#but they would never try to tell everyone else that we can’t call ourselves those things bc they’re our words!!!! those are for us!
protector
*takes place in season 4 with mild spoilers. gif is not mine. credit to owner.*
Being in Hawkins High when you were a student was brutal. Being in Hawkins High after hours when some creepy killer was on the loose was terrifying as hell. The only sound you could hear was your footsteps.
After all of the crazy shit you’d gone through these last couple of years, you would think you’d be able to handle a dark scary hallway.
You didn’t plan on breaking into your old high school when you woke up that morning. However, it was your only option to try and figure out what the hell was going on.
Steve was ignoring your phone calls. Every time you called his house, it just rang and rang and rang. You didn’t expect for his parents to be home. They honestly never were.
Because Steve was ignoring your calls, you definitely knew that something was going on around Hawkins again. There had been two mysterious murders and the town was on edge. It seemed like everyone was scared out of their minds.
You had finally had enough and got into your car to go to Steve’s when you passed by Hawkins High and saw his car outside of it. It didn’t make any sense for him to be at his former high school at that hour. You parked by him and walked inside.
It wasn’t chilly inside but you still had goosebumps. Just as you rounded the corner to try and go to the gym, you ran into Steve, Dustin, Max, Lucas, Nancy and Robin.
They all screamed which made you scream also.
“(Y/n)! What the hell are you doing here?!” Steve shouted.
“What am I doing here? What the hell are you guys all doing here?! Wait, were you just going to try and attack me with…. a lamp?”
Steve set the lamp down, “I wasn’t going to attack you! I didn’t know you were here!”
Your heart rate was still racing because of the scare, “Will someone please explain to me what’s been going on?”
They all froze for a moment, looking around to see who would be the one to fill you in.
Dustin stepped forward, “Uh, well, it seems like we’ve found ourselves in another predicament.”
————
A half hour later, you found yourself sitting in Steve’s car outside of the Wheeler household. Everyone else was down in the basement. Steve asked for you to stay behind.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you what was going on.” Steve said as he turned the car off. It was quiet around the two of you. The night seemed more ominous since Dustin and Max filled you in on what was happening.
“You let me worry about you for days. I was there when we fought that demogorgon at the Byers’ house. I was there with you again in that junkyard and when we were in those tunnels. Last year, I was there in that mall standing right by your side. Why would you leave me out this time?”
Steve seemed to snap in that moment, “Because I can’t let you put yourself in danger again!”
You’d seen Steve upset before but not at you. Never at you.
“I’ve never willingly put myself in danger!”
Steve gave you a pointed look, “Do you not remember what happened last year?”
“Max was going to get hurt. You saw how strong Billy was. She wouldn’t have stood a chance against him.” Steve was still angry at you risking your life to save Max at the Mall. He knew that he would do the same for any of those kids but he felt like he’d dragged you into his mess years ago. If anything happened to you because of him, he’d never be able to forgive himself.
“When I found you, he had knocked you unconscious. I know that he wasn’t himself. I know that. But, I can’t get that image out of my head.” Steve looked down at his hands and you reached over and placed yours on top.
“I’m sorry that you had to see me like that but I’d do it all over again to save the kids.”
“I know you would because you have a heart of gold.” He was always telling you that because you were the type of person that would save a kitten from a tree or help an elderly person crossing the street. It irked him sometimes because he didn’t want you to get hurt.
“I thought that’s what you love most about me, Harrington.”
“No, it’s definitely your boobs.”
You scoffed and smacked his shoulder, “Steve!”
“I’m kidding! Of course I love how much you care about everyone and everything.” He reached over and cupped your left cheek lightly with his hand. He rubbed his thumb gently on your face, “I just wanted to try and keep you safe this time.”
“Steve, your first instinct tonight was to try and grab a lamp to ward off an attacker. I think you’re the one that needs protecting.” You giggled.
“The craftsmanship on that thing was ridiculous! That lamp would’ve taken anyone out!”
You rolled your eyes, “Yes, you’re right, Steve. That lamp was the perfect weapon.”
He pointed at you, “I feel like you’re being sarcastic right now and I really don’t appreciate it.”
“I’m sorry,” you moved closer to him, “I just want to help out. I don’t know much about this Vecna creature but I do know that it’s scarier than anything we’ve encountered thus far and you’re going to need my help.”
Steve sighed, “I know but I can’t let anything happen to you.”
“And I can’t let anything happen to you either. Would you think that I’d rather be at home wondering what is going on? I’d make myself sick with worry. I want to be there with you. With everyone.”
Steve smiled a little at your determination. It was yet another thing that he loved about you. He could write novels filled with the things he admired about his favorite girl.
“Come here.” He said softly. Steve pulled you closer to him until you were straddling his lap. He stared at you for a moment before pressing his lips against yours.
It had only been a couple of days since you were both together but it felt like an eternity. Steve kissed you as if it was the last moment you were going to spend together.
It didn’t take long for the windows to fog up or for the two of you to feel breathless. Steve’s lips went to your neck and started to trail down. You felt his fingers on the hemline of your shirt as he started to pull it up when someone knocked on the passenger window scaring the both of you yet again.
“Uh, guys?”
Dustin.
“What do you want, Henderson?!” Steve shouted.
“I sort of have a feeling on what’s going on in there but we need you guys back in the house. Nancy has a plan.”
Steve sighed and leaned forward, his forehead resting on your collarbone, “Those kids never let me have any fun.”
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You remember that whole Umbara Arc, when Kix lost his cool and so desperately tried to pull his brothers to safety and render aid, even though it was hopeless and at risk of his own life? Everybody was present with him that day, given a little insight into his perspective. Or, who remembers the medic from Saving Private Ryan, who did the same in more graphic fashion, risking his life and losing it because it was better than watching others suffer?
I know how they felt. Not in the sense of my brothers and sisters are dying in a war, though we fight a different type or war. But in the perspective of watching the inevitable clutches of death take your patient, no matter how you fight, no matter the highly trained skills, no matter the expensive equipment and priceless experience brought to bear. Or when you realize that perhaps you’ve gone past the point of humane, trapping a soul in a broken body that can no longer support them. When no one listens to you, when you want to help but have your hands tied. When that ONE THING eludes you that could have helped. When you’ve moved so past the point of desperate that your team’s humor takes on a dark shape and you can only laugh to stave off the feelings of insanity at what you’re doing, how hopeless you feel, how much you’d like to leave and scream in a quiet place. When you feel invisible because everyone else has such tunnel vision they can no longer hear a voice of concern or reason.
It’s not because people don’t care. Rather, everyone cares so much that they really no longer know what to do. And so every team member walks away wondering if they did enough. Did they fail the patient? Did they miss the piece that could have fixed it all? Were they too afraid to speak up when that would have helped? Could they have saved that patient if only they’d done a little more, had some other idea, pushed that blood faster… anything. At the end of it all you’re left in silence, trying to recover and make sense of the storm. You’re left with ghosts, which will never leave you. Haunted by those you couldn’t save, who whisper to you in the quiet.
It’s not really even their voices you hear - it’s your self condemnation for not beating Death, for not being enough. Or at least, that’s what a good medic hears. The ones who care enough to let it drive you to save the next one. The ones who fight on in your memory, learn from the mistakes and the pain and the loss, who willingly carry your ghost with them for the rest of their lives and to the end of their usefulness.
I once had an experienced coworker from another specialty tell me, “You’re not normal. This unit is not normal. You should not walk among the dead like you’re in a war zone, and just go on to the next patient. How do you do this job?”
Because there’s always the next person you COULD save. Because life is worth fighting for. Because even after all the grief and failure and loss and heartbreak, somehow we stand up to try again. Because we have hope. Or at least, that’s what we tell ourselves when the call comes out for the next run. When we pull ourselves back together, shut our eyes to the devastation, and try again. This time we will win.
In the silence, I know what Kix felt, when Rex wrenched him from the line of fire. We can’t save them all, but by god will we try.
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Fanfiction Recommendations! As the summer comes to a close, I want to highlight some of my favorite authors and their beautiful talent with all of you.
Take a moment, read their work, and support them by commenting and reblogging—all to let them know their work matters and their contributions to their respective communities are valued and heard. Heed all warnings before consuming content, the authors and myself are not liable for the content you interact with.
Cherry Blossom Colored Kisses // @queers-gambit [Eddie Munson x Reader]
I am normally a streamlined reader. One of those who doesn’t venture into supernatural, folklore-esq fics but something spurred me to read this and all I can say is that it was perfect. There are few words beyond perfection to describe this work. It is simply phenomenal. I never wanted it to end; the writing was beautifully heartbreaking and lovely, and the emotions—God! The emotions! I have re-read this multiple times and will be reading it until the end of my days. I only wish I could be as brilliant a writer as you. Thank you for sharing your gift with us.
For you, I’ll Go into the Woods // @aniqua [Eddie Munson x Reader]
If you continue reading this rec list, you’ll also see that Aniqua is in the masterlist category too. She is simply amazing. Every work she’s ever produced has been excellent. A true, exquisite talent that I am so happy to call my mutual. Not all writers take time and care into how their readers are represented, but Aniqua shows that with impeccable kindness and strength because in the end, all we want for ourselves is to be the best version we can be—and well, she writes that. Aniqua, you are the best. Your writing transcends from the page and into our hearts. We are so lucky that you continue to write and produce work that we love. Thank you for sharing your gift with us.
My Favorite Henderson // @luvfae [Eddie Munson x Reader]
Listen, I love Henderson!Readers. I do. Plain and simple and very much a fantasy because 1. Dustin is my fav and 2. I adore Eddie. This series is fantastic. It’s long (which is an absolute plus), well written, and totally engaging with great dialogue and a really wonderful representation of Eddie as a character beyond the scope of what we know of him. I tagged the whole masterlist of the series for you to check out—you can’t stop at one, you need to read them all and stay up all night because you can’t stop reading it. Fae, thank you for sharing this with us.
Detention // @mycurrent-hyperfixation [Eddie Munson x Reader]
While I like the good ‘ol canon fic like everyone else, imagining characters outside what we’ve seen is so interesting and goddammit I love this one. First, Eddie would definitely be stuck in detention more often than not because he’s a non-conformist and that bugs teachers; second, he would absolutely fall in love with a student he wouldn’t expect to see in there. This fic is so cute and wonderfully crafted. This author knows how well to write Eddie and the kind of character he is supposed to be—which makes all the contexts that they put him in all the better to be read. Thank you for sharing this with us.
High School Sweethearts // @uselesssomebody [Eddie Munson x Reader]
This is a [ongoing] fic series that just started and I cannot wait to see where this goes. I love the dynamic–Eddie on the outskirts of society while Reader is woven within it trying to find an out. It’s got that enemies to lovers, faking dating trope that we all love and let me tell you, one ‘chapter’ in and this author has me in the palm of their hand. Their username is uselesssomebody and while I don’t know the context for it, I can tell you all (who decide to venture this far and actually read everything I wrote) that this author is far from useless and is certainly not just somebody. They’ve created conflict and empathy and the foundation for the story in a few thousand words while understanding the motivations of reader and Eddie so well. I cannot say enough, and maybe for the second time now, that I am jittery thinking about how this story will progress and I hope all of you will join me in enjoying this journey. I am simply smitten. Thank you for sharing this with us.
Night Moves // @eagerbby [Eddie Munson x Reader]
Oof did I love this. I’m a sucker for exes to lovers and the way Nicole wrote this is not only a beautiful, comprehensive story but the innate ability to be a storyteller in the most amazing sense makes this fic a perfect combination. Reader and Eddie have a realistic, palpable connection and the angst that slowly evolves into the revelations and resolution of the story is just fucking wonderful. And I don’t know at what point I begin feeling like a broken record, but there are phenomenal writers on tumblr (as well as Ao3–in particular) and being able to discover them through fandom is a great honor. They understand characters and their motivations (dare I say) better than the original authors or creators and that says something about the creativity and intellect of them. Nicole is one of those writers. You will also find her masterlist under the ‘Masterlist’ section of this fic rec list because it’s just that fantastic. Thank you for sharing your gift with us.
Spring Break // @strangermarvelss [Eddie Munson x Reader]
This fic. I want more! I want MORE! Enemies to lovers besties and goddamn does Sava do this well. I’ve read this three times because it makes me feel something and that is a testament to her writing. It’s fantastic and I love that authors are taking Eddie and adapting him into different types of scenarios. Like sure, is Eddie a golden retriever type who’s got big brown eyes and is a softy inside? Yes. BUT! Eddie could easily be irked by someone who doesn’t mesh with him in the way others have. Having Eddie in an enemies to lovers situation with a reader who is in the fruity four’s circle is just *chef’s kiss.* So, one, thank you for writing this and I, like many others, would love to see a continuation of this dynamic because you write it incredibly well. Second, thank you for sharing this with us because if it hadn’t been for you posting this, I wouldn’t have known what it felt like to love a fic so much.
Never Have I Ever // @me-gongoga [Eddie Munson x Reader]
Angsty fics that resolve with fluffy romance are bloody brilliant. They can make you feel ten different emotions if it is written well and shit, I’m here to tell you that yes, this fic is written exceptionally well. Not only do we feel every emotion and slight second hand embarrassment from the question Eddie thinks he has stumped everyone with, we also feel so profoundly rewarded by the end. UGH the satisfaction of that is amazing. As a reader who is getting older and who has been doing this *thing* for a decade, I adore when I come across stories that touch me in ways I wish I knew were possible ten years ago. So, thank you. Thank you for sharing this with us and creating feelings that are realistic and sound to the point where I kick my feet and giggle at myself. You make me feel sixteen again.
Right to the Bone // @havecourage-darling [Eddie Munson x Reader]
This fucking fic blew my nonexistent socks off. I loved it so much. Not only is it more than one part, it is incredibly written and the characters are wonderfully crafted. V, it’s not enough to simply recommend this story because I need to scream about it from the rooftops. Lovers to exes to ??? Exactly. Exactly what I’m looking for and because we are all simps for Eddie, only happy, complicated ends for this man and V gives that to us. It’s also not short. I love when fics are long so knowing that I’ll be reading it for more than a few minutes is the best, exciting feeling to have before actually jumping in. Thank you for writing this and sharing it with us. I hope those of you who take the time to read it simply adore it as much as I do.
I am a top gun girlie simp. It’s not something I will apologize for.
Bad Habit // @seasonsbloom [Jake Seresin x Reader]
There is no reasonable place on earth for me to sit and enjoy something this much. One, I love Jake. He’s exactly the guy I shouldn’t like but I do anyway and you know what? Fine. If he was real I’d hate him but I’d love to hate him… get the gist? This little series is amazing. Great writing, great use of the characters, and totally feels in canon too. All the top gun writers are great—and it’s fucking wonderfully long! I love long fics because I write long fics and to see other authors embracing the wc’s over 6 thousand words is amazing. Thank you, May, for taking the time to write this and sharing your talent with us.
Small Doses // @purelyfiction [Jake Seresin x Reader]
Again, here with another Jake fic but let’s be honest, this whole section will be Jake x Readers and so long as these fantastic writers continue to bless us with their work, it will a solely Jake list. Knockout. Not the call sign, but the code name for the fic. It’s a fucking knockout of a fanfic and I’m so happy to have come across it. It’s sexy and makes my heart do leaps because it has snark and steam and love and thrill. Hit the goddamn trifecta here, Ashley. Thank you for sharing this work with us.
Save a Jet, Ride a Pilot // @bradshaw-fanclub [Jake Seresin x Reader]
Please. The name for this fic alone should make you want to read it. There is a commonality between many Jake fics and I’m not mad about it (the “you hate him but love him at the same time” trope) and this fic… this fic does it brilliantly. I literally feel like kicking my feet from under by comforter because it’s just so fucking good. I signed my name with a heart in Hangman’s whorehouse just for this fic and I don’t regret it. Won’t apologize either. Thank you, Hayley, for sharing your talent with us.
Wine-Eyed // @whirlybirbs [James Norrington x Reader; POTC]
I used to sell myself as solely a Will Turner kind of gal but the older I got, I realized that Norrington was totally my vibe. I will die on that hill now. So, as any sane person does, I read all the fanfics I can and when a new one comes along, I read it, I love it, and birbs—listen… you knocked it out of the park. Absolutely wonderful, phenomenal, brilliant, amazing, life changing, awesome-ness. You keep this small fandom living for content alive. Thank you for sharing your work with us.
Ride or Die // @writefightandflightclub [Santiago Garcia x Reader; Triple Frontier]
I am 90% sure I’ve recommended at least one fic, if not the whole masterlist, of Luna’s before and every time I’m looking for something good, I come back to older fandoms I’ve been in and find new or past fics that I adore. Santi is a whole man of mixed emotions and complications that just make you want to say “I can fix him.” Ride or Die is that. Ride or Die is Santi at his antithesis and Reader being at the center of everything. I love it. And I highly suggest if you read this one, you’ll love all the fics that they’ve ever written because it’s not just Santi but many of Oscars other characters that are written perfectly. Thank you for continuing to write and share these wonderful stories with us.
Hot Summer Nights, Mid July // @luxurybeskar [Johnny Soprano x Reader; MSoN]
I went back through my archives to see what fics I may have forgotten to recommend in my last list and this is definitely one that I should not have looked over. Actually, probably all of Thea’s fics should be on here too. I love the Sopranos and while The Many Saints of Newark wasn’t the best film in the universe, the cast was sizzling and JB’s Johnny was certainly one of them. Thea writes him so well and self-indulgent too which is the best kind of writing tbh. If you enjoy this one, check out Thea’s other Johnny works and other writings because the catalogue is vast my friends. Thank you for sharing this with us.
Aniqua’s Main Masterlist // @aniqua
From Moon Knight to Shadow and Bone to Stranger Things, Aniqua’s writing will take you from universe to universe and leave you in love. Take the time to explore the masterlist she has created for all of her works because they are absolutely terrific.
Masterlist // @eagerbby
Everything on this masterlist is gold. It’s slowly growing with more content every week and I seriously cannot wait to see what else this author produces. Please, if you’d be so inclined, check out this author because their work is great and just like Aniqua’s work above, they’ll transport you to a little island of happiness for as long as you stay.
Masterlist // @masterofmunson
From Eddie to Peter Parker, everything is amazing. Amanda knows how to write these characters that I’m sure she could do it in her sleep, but I couldn’t pick one that I loved more than the others so I just smacked the whole masterlist on here for everyone to enjoy. Enjoy it, dear readers. They’re phenomenal and deserve all the love and support.
Um. How did we get here?
I’m a writer too, I guess… and I’d like to plug my own work—because Jesus Christ if no one else will, then I’ll do it myself! My name is Kelsey, I’m 24, and have been writing and reading fanfics for nearly a decade. Below are a couple of fics (and my masterlist) that I’m immensely proud of. It takes a lot for me to admit that I like my work—and certainly not all of it—but there are a few that I can’t help but love.
Thanks for all the support. Go check out the authors above and show them unconditional tumblr love.
Masterlist // @inknopewetrust (aka me!)
This masterlist contains every written fic I’ve ever posted on tumblr. You can find some of the work on Ao3 and different fandoms on my Wattpad.
Exile // @inknopewetrust (still me) [Darkling x Reader; Shadow and Bone]
This is a short series based in the shadow and bone world. Darkling x Fem!Reader that kind of set me on a path here on tumblr. It was the first mainstream series I’d ever done and the attention brought to it was very kind. I am very proud of this fic. I think it represents me as a writer very well and I was able to explore different themes of sensuality, romance, heartbreak, pain, and hatred, all in one.
The Hideout | It’s You and Me | Secret | Electric Music | and The Denim Vest // @inknopewetrust (oh yeah, still me) [Eddie Munson x Reader]
These are all of my Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader fics. Eddie is a comfort character. He’s the guy I would have been crushing on in high school and just like millions of other people on the planet, completely swept me off my feet. A few of these fics contain scenarios deeply personal to me—conversations I’ve had, situations I’ve been in—and to be able to therapeutically write about them through fiction has been a great pleasure. I’ll always believe Eddie to be one of my favorite characters to write for. He’s wonderfully odd—just the way we all like him.
Resolutions // @inknopewetrust (do you wanna guess?) [Marc Spector x Reader; Moon Knight]
I grew up loving Marvel. After a very traumatic experience writing for the fandom, I decided to take a step back a few years ago but I found a connection with Marc and Steven. There was an acceptance that I hadn’t been privy too, so it makes me incredibly happy to have extended my hand back into the pond. I am proud of this little series because I feel it dives into the complexities of what it means to be a partner—a loving, committed person when so much is going on. I hope that shines through for you too.
Volition // @inknopewetrust (Mhm… me) [Rafael Barba x Reader; L&O: SVU]
Rafael Barba is my favorite SVU character. Maybe that’s because I’m a Broadway girlie and RE is an absolute legend, but Barba is a whole deal by himself. I wanted to write a story aligned with canon and this is what I came up with. A complicated, dueling interest fic with a sequel that leaves lingering potential for the hypothetical future to be happy. I love Barba; he deserved better in the end.
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march
I don't lie anymore, but I change. I am unreliable. I still can't consolidate my identity. I can’t just be one thing. I’ve grown, and become better, and yet i catch glimpses of myself in the rear view mirror, and miss it. The mess, the chaos, the gravity. And i like the peace I have built. I do. And it has to be better for me. But, it always feels slightly hollow. Like I'm pretending. that i'm naive. that it's all just another game, that wastes away the days. I don't really know, anymore.
Sometimes, I am just a child. Sometimes im a monster. Well, never in action, but sometimes in thought. Not recently though, not for awhile. But I can't say its not there. And I have been insane. Strangely, i find myself missing it more and more, lately. Because at least then, i seemed to be driven by a mission, or goal, despite its lack of grounding in reality.
I’ve been seeking out me in other things. Looking for the things that stop me in my tracks, and i can point to it and say, “look, do you see me?” I am not this body, or this face. I am the colors of the pictures i paint, and the songs that sing and vibrate through my body. I find myself in the insane. Sometimes, in the tragic. I find myself in the idea of love. But not love itself. or, maybe i do. I just cant feel it, right now.
I am the songs of the 60s. The songs that sound like sunshine and white walls bathed in blood. Changing times. Youth destroyed by false idols. worshiping those who give you love when you need it. I see myself in the yellow patterned wallpapers, and shabby carpets that smell of lives lived. I am free and all encompassing love, of no boundaries. Body and soul. But also the sinister darkness that emerges in the shadow of the lack of it. I am that starved child, who just wishes to be held. A child that sits in the solace of parents that don’t say what they really think. a child that grows up believing everyone is a puzzle. and puzzles always need to be cracked.
Sometimes you hear something for the first time, and wonder how it has existed along side you all this time, only now discovering it. I heard a song last night, mama, that made me turn, and twist my head. my memories are aloof, and don’t tend to stick around. They need to be inspired, or called forth, to be seen. Im looking out a window, from another time. I remember the parallels of my thoughts. I remember considering when future me would look back through my eyes, of these moments. Often, i remember the thoughts more clearly than the memories themselves. Everything painted in the color of emotion.
But all i have is who i am. Right? Isn't that how this works? We cant separate ourselves. Maybe we can. Maybe I will try to do that. To write of myself without myself. Maybe i can be the backdrop, or the stage on which stories play out.
Why can i only hear planes when the sun is out? Why do they sound like summer?
And sometimes i realize i don't really have anyone else to talk to. No one that i can really be honest with. I wonder how many others feel the same. But you can't just open up with anyone. you need certain people. i must just need to keep waiting. and working. i guess. because i can't do anything as casual as find what i need out in the wild. or maybe i can. but i don't want to play in the desperation of seeking. i don't want to waste my time trying to find someone to keep my bed warm, because it won't be enough. i don't think i can let anyone else in, except one person. and maybe the people that read what i write. But even then, i avoid writing about the ugly things. Because still, i do not want to burden you with the darkness from which i come. I won't tell you so you won't have to take it in, and ingest it, and face the truth. people are happier when they think you're happy. but when you aren't, they usually don't care enough anyway. it depends where you meet them, though. there are those solid, and made of love. they are just unfortunately, seemingly an endangered species.
i think we do everything for the exceptional moments. those things that only happen 1% of the time, or maybe even only once. Our lives tend to be shaped around these moments, defined by their before, and after. that's just what i've come to believe, because i've seen it. i think this world is tied down to numbers, statistics, and percentages. i think things fall into three categories, while simultaneously falling into all. it goes like this: 50/50, 80/20, 99/1. the first category, are the doers, and the do-not’ers. out of the ones that do, there will always be a top 20% of the highest achievers. and then, even deeper, we will find the one, who’s aptitude is only rivaled by all others, their capacity exponentially larger. But i don't intend this in a broad meaning. i think these talents are micro systems of ourselves. even a genius lacks in other areas - but perhaps that also means that there must be one person in the top 1% who is yet the top 1% of that group, and perhaps it is their knowledge that rivals that of the entire world. maybe simply, that one is god. maybe that is how our ultimate hierarchy is structured. and though i have come to believe in the numbers, i too believe that other realities must be categorically different. our system is a simple example of a fundamental truth of a subjective reality. it is my experienced truth, but other realities, by the nature of infinities, must be structured in a variety of ways (well, really an infinite amount of ways). perhaps even within this shared reality, others do not experience life in the same code that i do, the same number patterns. but then again, it can be parsed into the numbers, now only for personality traits, upbringing, and all the other factors which make us who we are. but maybe my gods are different than yours, to which i argue there must be reason in. statistically, we do not all agree in our beliefs. maybe my views are niche due to the mathematical statistical probability of it arising from a specific upbringing. perhaps there are other recipes which arrive at the same result. different fractions of ingredients to make us who we are. and you know what i mean, when you meet someone from another life who shares your same soul. but you might also not yet know, because maybe you are still in the before part of your life. maybe your match has not yet been made. you would know it if it has.
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When Colette made it down to the kitchen, she was pleased to see homework books open and being worked on. One less thing to stress about. Dinner though. She called in an order for takeout. Colette didn’t cook. Actually, that was another thing Jordan left them to deal with on their own. As it turned out, he cooked more than she did. And even when he didn’t cook, he often brought leftovers home from the hotel kitchen or brought the boys in after school for dinner.
So much for that. But Colette wasn’t broke, and they would eat somehow.
“We can go on the train,” Milo suggested after she’d hung up the phone. “We can ride it by ourselves. You don’t even have to take us.”
“No,” Colette said. “You can’t, actually. Not until you’re ten. And I’m not sending you to live in a camper. But since you all love to go behind my back, why don’t you tell your dad to get a real place to live? He doesn’t even have electricity—did he tell you that? Could you live without all your video games for even a weekend? Just finish some of that homework. I do not want another email from your teacher. C’s are not acceptable. And I hate your hair like that, it’s too long.”
“God, Mom, chill,” Felix said. “Maybe if you weren’t so crazy all the time, Dad wouldn’t’ve left.”
She felt that one like a dagger in her gut.
Milo didn’t chime in, but he didn’t defend her honor, either.
Those boys would never know how close they’d come to seeing their beloved game console spiked through the center with the sharp heel of her pump, shattered into pieces, then scooped up in a dustpan and thrown into the bay.
But she didn’t do that, because she was a grown-up. She was the one who held everything together and cleaned up everyone else’s messes.
To hell with both of them. To hell with everything and everyone.
She closed her eyes, balled her fists so tight that her fingernails made crescent-shaped indents in her palms. “I’m having a bath,” she said. “That homework will be finished by the time I’m done or God help me, I will throw your games into fucking bay! And if you don’t think I can throw that far from here, I dare you to try me.”
There was tension in her shoulders that she needed someone to pound out. She could also use a good pounding, but she couldn’t begin to imagine how to make that happen now. Jordan had been good at giving both, once upon a time. Shame he had to fail her in absolutely every other possible way.
She had her yearly checkup that morning.
Your blood pressure is high. Are you getting any exercise? Eating fresh fruits and veggies? Making time for self-care?
Please. Her children’s father fucked off to the wilderness on a journey of enlightenment or some bullshit and excuse me, fucking self-care? Can you just get the exam over with and get me out of this paper gown?
Colette didn’t have any date to go on. She did match with a trauma surgeon on her dating app, and he did sound very successful. She had been hopeful that he could administer a good pounding, or at the very least, maybe he could help with her high blood pressure. But she didn’t have a babysitter for the boys, because their father was a flake.
The boys were asleep and their homework books were stacked by the time her bath was finished. She wasn’t going to check the homework. She knew there was no possible way Milo could complete his fifteen missing assignments in one night.
They had eaten the takeout she ordered, and she didn’t order anything for herself. She would eat rice crackers from a paper bowl.
Self-care? She cleaned a whole man out of her house, and maybe that was her self-care.
What few things he left here she threw in the trash—a toothbrush, a small pile of dirty work clothes, a pair of muddy boots. As it turned out, she never let him keep much here in the first place.
But the couch smelled like him, like orange soap and wood chips and campfire smoke. So she trashed that, too. And she bought another one. She spent a whole paycheck on it, and she framed the whole room around it. This wasn’t the kind of couch anyone would ever sleep on. The leather was cold and hard, the angles sharp, the color was an eye-searing fuchsia, and the design was exquisite. It was like a piece of art.
She bought a flamboyant vase for a very fake plant. She bought a thin bookcase for books she wouldn’t read. The room felt beautiful and hollow.
— from “boxes and squares #4.1: first fall apart” (4/5)
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Sim-Modernism
I've been thinking about the endless war between Modernism and Post-Modernism. Not even a debate, since so much of the discussion is about even defining the borders and who is on what side. To restate things:
Modernism is the James Scott sense of a belief that we can figure out the rules and principles - behind the universe, life sciences, sociology, morality and ethics - and our leaders can apply them to create an ordered and just society. The Enlightenment was big on Modernism, and really Marxism was its apex.
Post-Modernism is the post-WW1 understanding that none of these rules ever consistently work and the world is nigh-impossible to understand, and any rules we *think* we have about the world are really just stories we tell ourselves, to justify our position in society or to advance one political side over another. It's very meta, often in the Bulverist sense. This is what current Marxists actually sound like.
(Pre-Modernism just being the regular traditionalist "I do this because my ancestors' ancestors were doing this hundreds of years ago. And because God, speaking through His divinely chosen ruler, tells me to or else He will strike me dead.")
A key thing about both of these philosophical schools is that they can't really be disproven. If a modernist regime fails, obviously they just had bad laws instead of good laws, or the people didn't try hard enough to stick to these principles. And post-modernism never fails, it's failure is just a story *you* tell to justify your opposition to it.
(Really you should think of both of these as tools to analyze situations with, sometimes even using both tools on the same situation and asking yourself which is more useful in this moment. But anyway.)
I'm not going to resolve the war between these things today, but just talk about another *modernism I see that is neither of these.
***
Let's talk about World of Warcraft.
It's the extremely big MMO that has had millions of players for well over a decade now. In the beginning, we knew nothing about the undercarriage of how the game worked (what items dropped from what, how good they were, etc.) Over time we figured out some principles, and we got large forums called "Elitist Jerks" where people argued over the best classes, the best ability rotations, the best gear, etc etc. They referenced guides and came up with general theories and had vibrant conversations. This is clear modernism.
Then almost all the conversations died, and people talk very little on the forums last I checked, compared to years at its prime.
What happened? Politics and post-modernism?
No, what happened was Big Data.
Eventually someone built a downloadable tool called simcraft. It knew every spell, boss, item, and talent in the game. You could just input all your gear, the skills you used, the order you used them in rotation, the general style of fight and... hit a button and it would tell you how much damage per second (DPS) you would do with perfect execution.
This is in some ways a cludge. Few of us have perfect execution, after all. And this doesn't cover utility, tanking, and healing and so those needed other sims with more assumptions. And there were a number of errors anyone could find with its assumptions. But it at least gave a concrete answer to argue over.
Now anytime anyone had a question of "is this talent underrated, because combined with this weapon, on this fight you could..." and the only answer would be "sim it." If sims reliably showed your new idea was better, the top raiders would drift to that, and then the way they did things would trickle down to everyone else. No one really had to argue about which class was the best - there were numbers for it.
The "skill" of the world of warcraft community got better, and the discourse of it dimmed. Just sim it.
Now this would just be an anecdote about games, except for the fact that Big Data is entering more and more of our life.
If you have any problem that can be addressed by throwing it at GIANT FUCKTON OF DATA, now people do that. We often don't know *why* the correlation between two things is the way it is, but we know it's correlated now.
Our incipient AI's aren't Asimovian entities built on three principles taken to their logical conclusions. They're neural nets trained on a ton of data and reinforced with adjustments to hell and back. They give very good answers (and beat us at boardgames.) We generally don't have any modernist explanation for what they are thinking or what rules they are following.
While manipulating training sets is as old as data science, with big data we are talking about sets too big for naive actors to change a few datum and get the answers they want (plus part of this mythos is that anyone can run the simulations themselves if they want to.) The simulations are still built very much on human error, but they are too large and incomprehensible to be easily hijacked by postmodernists into giving the simple answers they want (or rather, that they claim ideologues want.)
This is Sim-Modernism.
We don't just see it in videogame sims and GPT outputs. We see it when someone asks our favorite route from NYC to Philadelphia and we answer "...I just follow whatever Google tells me to." We see it in the most famous political prognosticator of our era not making a simple political model (like Sam Wang would), but rather the model with the most inputs they can imaginably throw in, run the simulation 10,000 times, and see what the results look like. Nate Silver has some idea why his models will favor one party or the other, but he still is in the dark often on what is going on "under the hood." And most of all we see it in algorithms on social media and video sites, that are trained to get the most "engagement" from audiences, and so start throwing up bizarre recommendations that no tech executive would have predicted or even wanted.
A lot of the answers Sim-Modernism gives are pretty good! And even more useful, they are plentiful. Sim-Modernism isn't limited to theorizing what a good novel is, it can generate a new one in seconds, or hundreds of new novels for you to read, once it gets good enough.
I'm not celebrating this as "WE HAVE THE ANSWER that cuts the Gordian knot of modernism." Sim-Modernism does get more accuracy than either regular Modernism or Post - but it's obviously scary in its own way. It means running or being a part of a system that you don't know how it works or where it is really leading you.
(Has anyone else had the experience of driving well out of your way because Google says this path is faster, only to find it eventually requires you to drive through an area you wouldn't have - either because construction means it's really blocked, or it's a suburb that feels like cheating to treat as a bypass?)
And, it will feel sad, in a humanistic way, to live a life that is more efficient but not to understand any of its underpinnings. Do this because "the sim said it is optimal" is not a lot more satisfying than "because your father did and your father's father did..."
And of course, we will have to deal with "whether a computer code that is just regurgitating predictions based on a very large sample of text" is a person or not when it answers questions.
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I posted 8,845 times in 2022
506 posts created (6%)
8,339 posts reblogged (94%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@fabulousvelociraptor
@managerie76
@hacash
@1989nihil
@nerdswithanxietysaywhat
I tagged 1,902 of my posts in 2022
#ted lasso - 450 posts
#mash - 161 posts
#cats - 150 posts
#jason sudeikis - 106 posts
#star trek - 97 posts
#ofmd - 81 posts
#sga - 78 posts
#my writing - 53 posts
#fanfic - 52 posts
#theodore lasso - 42 posts
Longest Tag: 133 characters
#he should be smushed between beard and rebecca on a couch with a cup of hot chocolate (with marshmellows) watching well loved romcoms
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
Ted Lasso is so relatable because he’s literally like “I can’t handle my own issues, so I’ll avoid them by handling everyone else’s.”
Never before have I felt so called out yet so seen.
122 notes - Posted October 12, 2022
#4
Ted Lasso very pointedly does not do redemption arcs.
A redemption arc features a character’s atonement for their mistakes and misdeeds.
Rebecca very clearly does some horrible stuff in the larger part of S1. You love her, I love her, but it’s undeniably true. She tries to ruin AFC Richmond and the lives of everyone who works there (probably what, 50-75 people would at AFC Richmond?) with the hopes of causing her ex-husband “as much pain and suffering” as she felt from his abuse and cheating. That’s 50-75 people who could lose their jobs, which which would ripple on to affect their families. That could end the careers of many if not most of the players. That’s not even counting the disappointment of the fans losing the team that she just run into the ground.
And she focuses on doing this through Ted, a man she barely knows. If those pictures she had taken made the papers, it could have destroyed his marriage (she didn’t know it was failing at this point but even if she did, that doesn’t mean it was any less bad). It would have hurt Keeley and Jamie too. Her attempt at getting a hit piece written on him was also cruel. Maybe pulling Jamie as a step below in scale (it was less of a personal attack at least) but it still hurts Jamie a great deal (more so than Ted actually).
If the show was about Redemption, Rebecca is not redeemed. She has done no acts of atonement. No public confessions, no acts to make up for the damage she did or attempted.
What we do see instead is a show with, what I feel is, a more realistic and better arc. Accountability arc we can call it. You realize you fuck up. You apologize for the fuck up to those most affected, and you move on. You try to do better. This is what we see Rebecca do. She apologizes to Ted and Higgins (I still feel Jamie should be apologized/told why he was traded back). She moves on trying to be a better person than she was.
And that’s really the best you can do in life sometimes. There isn’t always a way to redeem ourselves of our past sins in most cases. We can’t always make up for the way we hurt others. But we can hold ourselves accountable and then work to move through the world in a kinder, carefuller way.
This is why I think we won’t see Nathan redeemed, but we will see him learn to hold himself accountable and do better.
130 notes - Posted February 3, 2022
#3
Elizabeth:. We have an emergency situation.
John: *Strapping a nuke on his body* On it already.
167 notes - Posted November 8, 2022
#2
Okay imagine you’re just hanging out, being the top life form in your environment with the rest of your species, when it comes to your attention that a particular species of ant not only evolving at a remarkable rate, but also spreading everywhere. I mean all over the freakin’ place. And you can tell, at some point in the still distant future, it will evolve to a point that it’ll be a potential threat or rival to your own species.
So your like “Hm...we should check this out.” So you get a guy. This guy, he’s a bit of a dick but maybe this will keep him out of your freaking hair for a bit - so you have this guy set up some sort of test, like a trial, to help learn a few things about how you should proceed with this species going forward. Like, should you wipe them out now before they get too powerful? Should you confine them a localized environment and stifle their progress? Should you just let them continue to spread and evolve? You got to figure this out, right? And if nothing else, you’d get this asshole out of your hair for a minute which is good because he’s always making a fucking mess of things.
So you send this guy out and he comes back and it turns out one of the ants seduced him by accident.
This is what qcard is like to the Q.
178 notes - Posted August 9, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
"Well, I play a jerk, so it's really easy to approach that yet again. It's not difficult," de Lancie recently said of reprising Q. "It was nice to do. It was not difficult to bring it up again. We all play pretty close to who we are… at least I am. The material had a lot of the same vibes about it… The intentions are still the same. I'm still Picard's main squeeze. And I'm pushing." X
Update: Jean-Luc’s asshole boyfriend’s back in town.
214 notes - Posted January 19, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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Friendofhayley's Top Books of 2022 Pt. 4 Non-Fiction
This Book Rec is on Non-Fiction books. It includes 4 books. Let’s go!!
Becoming by Michelle Obama | Memoir
This memoir follows Michelle from childhood until 2018. Her voice, her sweet family members, and the tidbits of secrets of what happened behind the White House's closed doors were the highlights of the book. Also, her strength, while the media tried to tear her to pieces for being a strong black woman in power, was really amazing to read. So many parts of the book must have hurt to write and relive, but I'm so glad I was able to glimpse all of these moments
"It was one thing to get yourself out of a stuck place, I realized. It was another thing entirely to try and get the place itself unstuck."
Untamed by Glennon Doyle | Memoir, Self-Help
I've never read Doyle's earlier works, but they were apparently about how to strengthen your marriage. And then before this book, she came out as a lesbian and divorced her husband -- talk about a career move. This book really feels like a homage to stop giving fucks for anyone other than yourself and those you love. It made me laugh and think about my life, and also cheer whenever she talked about her current partner. Definitely recommend to lesbians or those who want to learn how to put themselves before anything else. (Or anyone with religious trauma).
"And my way of life is to dare to imagine the truest, most beautiful life, family, and world—and to then conjure up the courage to make real what I have imagined."
Them: Adventures With Extremists by Jon Ronson | Non-Fiction
Jon Ronson, a Jewish journalist, hangs out and observes different extremists from different cultures and countries in a pre-9/11 world, and interviews their "enemies". This book might not be for everyone, but I think everyone should try to read it. Before social media, there were already bubbles of different groups getting terrified of "them" and dehumanizing the other until they are the boogeyman. The reason I read this book was that my parents are extremists (who would make some people in this book cringe) and I just wished I could know why they see the world that way. It's kind of funny that Leftist and Alt-Right people both believe the government don't care about us and that corporations are controlling things in a scary way. The only difference is the foundation of the Alt-Right argument is based on racism and intolerance. It makes you think.
“Young people are seeing this big task before them,” explained Ali, “trying to combat economic global corporatization. And a lot of them have read David Icke and thought, ‘Hey! He’s on our side. I’m looking for answers and he seems to have them.’ And we’ve made them feel stupid, like they’ve done something bad by getting sucked in.” Ali paused. “And now they’re saying to us, ‘Don’t tell me I’m stupid!’ What we should have said to them was, ‘You’re not stupid. We understand why you thought he was OK.’ But we didn’t. And now they think we think they’re stupid.”
Sister Outsider by Audre Lorde | Essays, Speeches
This is a collection of essays and speeches by Audre Lorde ranging from topics of black feminism, black power, lesbian life, eroticism in real life, and more. It was incredible to read speeches in which she called out people there on their biases and bigotry. This collection should (and in some parts is) be considered a classic.
"That we not hide behind the mockeries of separations that have been imposed upon us and which so often we accept as our own. For instance, “I can’t possibly teach Black women’s writing — their experience is so different from mine.” Yet how many years have you spent teaching Plato and Shakespeare and Proust? Or another, “She’s a white woman and what could she possibly have to say to me?” Or, “She’s a lesbian, what would my husband say, or my chairman?” Or again, “This woman writes of her sons and I have no children.” And all the other endless ways in which we rob ourselves of ourselves and each other."
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Mum’s the word.
Are you in need of being uplifted? As a Mum you are probably needing some encouragement right now. Perhaps you feel like you’re doing your best but it isn’t quite good enough? Perhaps you’re struggling with a challenging stage for your children? Perhaps you’re in a comparison trap where everyone else seems to have it all sorted but somehow you don’t measure up? Perhaps you’re exhausted after a difficult week, month or a season.
Sit back, relax and enjoy a cup of tea and read on.
I want to tell you that it is a myth that you are all alone in this journey. You are not. There are countless mums out there who feel what you do sometimes. You are not alone.
How does it feel when you scroll social media and you see all the happy pictures of picture perfect families and you think that’s just not me in real life? It’s true, we all do it – we show our highlights without all the truth behind the scenes. Perhaps in your daily challenges you compare yourself to other families or you compare your children to other children?
Don’t compare yourself. You and your family are unique with all your strengths and weaknesses.
Often you can feel like you are not doing a great parenting job at any of it. I want to tell you these feelings are normal: some days you feel average. And on low days you might feel discouraged. So many mums feel like this.
Adverts and social media are thrown at us all the time – as mums we are told we need a constant upgrade and need to do better.
Deep down we want to do our best for our families, but we can’t be perfect. Don’t measure yourself against other people. Did you know in the Bible it says we are God’s masterpiece created for good works we are called to do? You are amazing and have incredible gifts and strengths inside of you. There never will be another version of you and you are created to make a difference. Don’t wish yourself to be someone else. Be you. You are valuable and amazing just the way you are. You might not be perfect and your life might not be easy but who you are matters to those around you. There is always room to grow in each of us, but something powerful that we can do for ourselves is accept who we are and our value. Our kids are often accepted for who they are and our instinct is to put others first. But you matter too. By accepting yourself this is a gift to your children. My advice to you would be to steer away from comparison and steer toward encouragement for others.
When you think of your capacity perhaps you struggle with fitting it all in? Perhaps you often feel a sense of overwhelm and stress. Your plate is different to other mums plates. Your capacity is different to others and that’s ok. You can only do what you can do. You learn this through your journey as a parent and you can start putting boundaries in place if you feel you are overdoing it.
And mum guilt! That’s common to all of us too - all mums struggle with this. You can’t afford a lovely cake for your wee one’s birthday, you can only buy a small present for you sons friends party, you’re tween falls of the trampoline and twists their ankle and it’s a hospital trip, you’re teenager says they hate you. Oh the guilt we all feel that we have failed our kids. Be gentle with yourself, you are doing you’re best at the time.
You might not feel like you are surviving. Perhaps it’s time to call in the cavalry. What help do you have around you to take the pressure off? Is it time to be vulnerable and ask friends for help? We can try and do it ourselves but we need people along the way to help us. It might not be comfortable saying it out loud that you need someone and you might be too embarrassed, but sometimes we have to be courageous and ask for help. Do you need to ask to share the load on the school run for example with friends? It often takes one person to get the ball rolling to take that step and be vulnerable. Can you step out and do that and ask for help?
It’s really nurturing for us to have friends at a different ages and stages than we are. Perhaps there’s mums who are older than you who can offer wisdom and life experience. Friendship is such a gift to us. Perhaps you have some single women friends who don’t have children and can help you to be a better mum. It’s good to be open to friendships that might be a bit different. Hearing other people’s stories helps connect you to other people who also might be having other challenges. Think of one or two people you can trust who you can share your struggle with and you can be vulnerable and this can help you.
When was the last time you laughed and made memories? Had fun or listened to some great music. Often in the winter seasons we go through in life, we have some memories we can hold onto when things were brighter. Our children will leave home one day and we will become empty nesters, so cherish the good times together while you have them. Be present in the small and big moments with your kids. Often as kids growing up we remember the small things that we treasure the most. I remember eating chocolate donuts in McDonalds with my Dad as a teen, this was so special for me, a time of connection. Don’t overlook the ordinary moments with your kids. You’re building something significant in the lives of your children.
But you might have some days you have dismantled rather than built and gone to bed feeling discouraged, you’re not alone in feeling that. You’ve yelled at your kids and it’s not worked out. This is normal. Tomorrow is a new day with new opportunities to try to build again.
Every day you make sacrifices and you do your best. Whether you are a person of faith or not, you’re sacrifices are not unseen. God sees your sacrifices, the cupcakes you made to give something nice for your kids, the room you tidied for your son, putting the crafts out for the umpteenth time, the pizza you made for your daughter at 10pm at night, listening to the 5th breakup story or the maths homework. We are all building great cathedrals. You might not feel you get applause for all of this but remember the small things. We are always there for our children. They are accepted for who they are and although far from perfect we are a safe place where they belong.
So remember accept yourself, you are not alone, don’t compare, share the load, laugh and remember your sacrifices don’t go unnoticed. Rest in that today.
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Falling in love with a revolutionist was terrifying. And utterly thrilling. Every time he spoke, he inspired masses, and you had the chance to observe— always close enough to appreciate, close enough that you were in real danger of getting burnt by the bright flame that shone from behind his eyes.
He had a real gift for speeches, and he always knew exactly when to use them to evoke whatever emotion he had to draw from those around him. It reminded you of a puppet master, pulling the strings to make the marionettes dance. You blink, and you almost catch a glimpse of each silvery thread as he marches his way to the front of the gathering. You worry his charisma and draw will be the death of him. He never knows when to stop.
Words dripped from his lips like honey and everyone reached out for a taste of the liquid sugar. You find it enticing, but you know behind the honey is venom. He saves the real sweetness for when you’re alone— tells you about how he made these plans for you both. He whispers about going off the grid and nurturing the revolution, and it lulls you into a sense of fuzziness where you aren’t quite asleep, but not in control.
He shows you glimpses of what he calls your child— the proof of your love and devotion, the masses that buy into the shit that he’s selling— and you watch as they parrot his hollow words back to him. They go out and cause problems. They go out and draw attention. They go out and get shot.
You come back to yourself for a bit, distraught that your child has begun imploding. That these impressionable minds that you have been shaping have forgotten what it means to be human. They don’t get it and you finally realize that you have lost control.
“But we’ve been following our heart— our primal instincts. They’re the predators. They are the ones swallowing us whole. We need to protect ourselves by any means. Only the best of us can survive their attack. That’s you. And that’s me. We don’t need no one else.”
He’s whispering, but you don’t remember him coming into the room. That’s been happening more often lately, and you haven’t seen your third for lack of a better word in a couple days. You already know he’s found a way to silence her.
“She was trying to get between us.” He spits the words at you, and you vaguely register that you are no longer in the kitchen surrounded by the others. You aren’t really sure where you are. You start sleeping more.
“It’s survival of the fittest baby.” He whispered softly. “Don’t we love our boys? What happened to taking care of them?”
“You’ve revolutionized them. Hell, they don’t even know their own names anymore.” You can’t cry. You’ve been feeling numb lately.
“I’m just trying to keep us safe.”
It echoes around you.
Safe. You start to run.
Safe. He doesn’t chase. Just laughs. It follows you as you jump over the porch steps and run through the streets. It takes a couple minutes, but you register the screams first. They’re primal and ugly— like an animal struggling to take each breath. You register the tears next, as your cheeks grow cold.
Finally, you collapse in the middle of the street. He’s there not too long after.
“Come on. Let’s get you home.” He wraps his warm arm around your neck, and you don’t fight as he drags you up and towards the house. “I’m sure that felt great.”
It feels like you should scream for help, but you’ve been out of air for so long that you are scared you are going to lose it all again if you let go. Besides, he would never hurt you.
You wake up a few hours or maybe a few days or it could even have been a month later. You’ve been lying in the plaid sheets for a while, wrapped in a fluffy blanket of ignorance. He’s gone— inspiring and spreading his message. You aren’t even really sure who’s in on it and who isn’t at this point. Everywhere you turn is another knowing smirk, another threat, another lost cause.
You feel empty noticing them.
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Love Me and All My Anxiety, Please
When I say love me and all my anxiety, it doesn’t mean you have to embrace my anxiety because even I hate it. But, love me even if I have anxiety and panic attacks. Love me even more when I’m having these attacks.
What do I look like when I have “it”? It’s thinking a lot and keeps going over it again and again but it doesn’t make sense. It’s hashing out something or the same thing you did ages ago. It’s an irrational fear. A dark side. So dark I needed you to shed me some light. Please, love me through my anxiety.
Love me when I’m crying in fear because my anxiety flared up and depression is screaming that I am better off alone. Yes, it’s a lie that in a second I would believe in to and I have to face every fear each day and pull myself together regardless how scared I am. I have to manage to keep going through endless tears and sleepless nights and expensive meds and therapy that I can show up and be at my best like anybody else does.
Truth is, we with mental illness don’t want you to carry us and add up to your burden. Specially that I am an alpha. One that people sees as a “strong independent woman”, it’s kind of a fear of disappointing those people who look up to you so we stay hidden and just keep “it” to ourselves but it doesn’t work either. We don’t want any family member, friends or even partners or for those who have, their children to suffer pain just to protect our “vulnerability” which often is called “exaggeration” by the unloving society. We are after your love and support during the breakdowns and attacks. Love me and all my anxiety within your safe arms.
When you find me running to you during episodes of “it”, it’s because I see you as a safe person who would care and love me without judgment, without anger, without getting pissed and making me feel stupid or a trash. Love me during my anxiety because I trust you that much.
I trust you that you would give me space when I seem to be shutting people out but listen to my almost the same crying moments just because anxiety creep up on me in the middle of our candle-light dinner. I trust and I choose to believe that you are not going anywhere and you constantly remind me of that, because you truly love me and all my anxiety.
You know, anxiety tells me I am difficult to love. It’s easier to believe that I should remain alone forever. It’s never easy to manage my mental health but it is even harder for when having a particular people involve because of this anxiety I can’t control or don’t have a hint of it coming. It is easier to get messed up when no one sees your ugly dark moments. I came to the point that it seems I am beginning to lose everyone who cares about me. So love me, despite my stubborn anxiety.
My anxiety is my worst enemy and I willfully desire to cast it out. It sure takes time and tremendous amount of effort to manage it but I always hope and pray to find the cure before I ruin anything or anyone else. My depression and anxiety are true but I am not my mental illness. Love me and help me get rid of all my anxiety.
I am caught in this cycle of defeat where my anxiety tell me that I am difficult to love and it really does take over me and for me to change that is beyond challenging, but I’m trying and doing my best best right now. But love me, and let your love be greater than all my anxiety.
This is not a beg for love. This is a cry for help.
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… but you took it to heart as God’s true word to you, which it is, God himself at work in you believers!
Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 2nd chapter of the book of 1st Thessalonians:
So, friends, it’s obvious that our visit to you was no waste of time. We had just been given rough treatment in Philippi, as you know, but that didn’t slow us down. We were sure of ourselves in God, and went right ahead and said our piece, presenting God’s Message to you, defiant of the opposition.
God tested us thoroughly to make sure we were qualified to be trusted with this Message. Be assured that when we speak to you we’re not after crowd approval—only God approval. Since we’ve been put through that battery of tests, you’re guaranteed that both we and the Message are free of error, mixed motives, or hidden agendas. We never used words to butter you up. No one knows that better than you. And God knows we never used words as a smoke screen to take advantage of you.
Even though we had some standing as Christ’s apostles, we never threw our weight around or tried to come across as important, with you or anyone else. We weren’t standoffish with you. We took you just as you were. We were never patronizing, never condescending, but we cared for you the way a mother cares for her children. We loved you dearly. Not content to just pass on the Message, we wanted to give you our hearts. And we did.
You remember us in those days, friends, working our fingers to the bone, up half the night, moonlighting so you wouldn’t have the burden of supporting us while we proclaimed God’s Message to you. You saw with your own eyes how discreet and courteous we were among you, with keen sensitivity to you as fellow believers. And God knows we weren’t freeloaders! You experienced it all firsthand. With each of you we were like a father with his child, holding your hand, whispering encouragement, showing you step-by-step how to live well before God, who called us into his own kingdom, into this delightful life.
And now we look back on all this and thank God, a geyser of thanks! When you got the Message of God we preached, you didn’t pass it off as just one more human opinion, but you took it to heart as God’s true word to you, which it is, God himself at work in you believers!
Friends, do you realize that you followed in the exact footsteps of the churches of God in Judea, those who were the first to follow in the footsteps of Jesus Christ? You got the same bad treatment from your countrymen as they did from theirs, the Jews who killed the Master Jesus (to say nothing of the prophets) and followed it up by running us out of town. They make themselves offensive to God and everyone else by trying to keep us from telling people who’ve never heard of our God how to be saved. They’ve made a career of opposing God, and have gotten mighty good at it. But God is fed up, ready to put an end to it.
* * *
Do you have any idea how very homesick we became for you, dear friends? Even though it hadn’t been that long and it was only our bodies that were separated from you, not our hearts, we tried our very best to get back to see you. You can’t imagine how much we missed you! I, Paul, tried over and over to get back, but Satan thwarted us each time. Who do you think we’re going to be proud of when our Master Jesus appears if it’s not you? You’re our pride and joy!
The Letter of First Thessalonians, Chapter 2 (The Message)
A set of lines from the same chapter in The Voice:
Brothers and sisters, you yourselves know that our coming to you was not a waste of time. You remember how we had just suffered through brutal and insulting attacks in Philippi; but because of God, we boldly stepped into the open to tell you His good news, even though it would likely mean more conflict for us. For we haven’t approached you—or anyone else for that matter—with some error or impure motives or deceitful agenda; but as we have been approved by God and entrusted with the good news, that’s how we are telling the world. We aren’t trying to please everybody, but God, the only One who can truly examine our motives. As you know, we didn’t sandwich the truth between cunning compliments—we told it straight—and before the eye of God…
The Letter of First Thessalonians, Chapter 2:1-5 (The Voice)
A note from The Voice:
It’s only by the leading of the Spirit that these first-generation church planters find themselves in this most disagreeable city (although it seems there’s no place Paul can go without causing a commotion). Likewise, it is neither by chance nor by any human power that these people are drawn out of their comfy old habits into a radical new way of living. A miracle really takes shape when, by trading in their old ways of living, believers take to heart the message of Jesus, and their unshakable faith shakes up conversations everywhere.
Kingdom work begins at the surrender of life, by giving yourself away and expecting nothing in return. Real change is then ushered in by the loving touch of the Spirit, moving out from people living transparently faithful lives even in the middle of commotion.
Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 6th chapter of the book of Leviticus that deals with lies and further instructions for the priests:
Then the Eternal One told Moses:
Eternal One: The following are instructions regarding liars and cheaters: Anytime someone commits a sin and violates his covenant duties to Me by deceiving his neighbor in financial or security matters, by stealing or by extortion, or if a person finds something that is lost and lies about it and makes a false claim, or in anything that someone does, and if he has sinned and comes to realize it, he will give back what he has stolen or extorted, or the deposit entrusted to him, or the lost object he found, or any other object he lied about. He will repay it entirely plus ⅕ of its value. He must give it to its rightful owner the very day he gives his guilt offering. He is to bring to the priest an unblemished ram or its equivalent value as his guilt offering to Me. The priest will make atonement and cover the guilty person’s wrong before Me, and the guilty will be forgiven for anything that he did wrong.
The Eternal One spoke again to Moses.
Eternal One: Give Aaron and his sons these instructions regarding the ritual of the burnt offering: The burnt offering must stay on the wood-fire all night until morning arrives. The fire on the altar is to be tended and kept burning during the night. The priest must dress in his ritual linen clothes and undergarments, and he must take the ashes from the burnt offering on top of the altar and place them next to the altar. Then the priest must remove his ritual clothes and dress in other clothes to transport the ashes to a ritually clean space outside the camp. The fire on the altar must burn continually; it must not be allowed to go out. The priests are to feed wood to the fire every morning, arrange the burnt offering on the fire, and offer up the fat portions of the peace offerings. The fire on the altar must burn continually; it must not be allowed to go out.
Here are the instructions for the ritual of the grain offering: Aaron’s sons must offer it to Me in front of the altar. A priest is to take a handful of the finest flour from the grain offering, together with the oil and frankincense that are part of the grain offering, and offer it as a memorial portion on the altar. The smoke of the sacrifice will rise and be a pleasant aroma to Me. Aaron and his sons get to eat whatever is left over. They must eat it without yeast in the holy place or in the courtyard around the sanctuary. It must not be baked with yeast. I am assigning this as their portion of the fire-offerings. Their portion is most sacred in the same way that the purification offering and guilt offering are sacred. All of Aaron’s male descendants are allowed to eat of it. It will be their portion of the fire-offerings presented to Me. This directive stands throughout all generations. Anything that touches them will become holy.
The Eternal One continued to Moses.
Eternal One: Here are instructions for the ritual sacrifice which Aaron and his sons are to offer Me on the day Aaron is anointed high priest: bring four pints of the finest flour as a grain offering. Offer half of it in the morning and the other half in the evening. Prepare it with oil and bake it on a griddle. After it has been mixed with the oil and thoroughly cooked, offer it as a pleasant aroma to Me. This directive stands for all time. The priest from Aaron’s line who is selected to be his successor must bring this same offering when he is anointed, and all of it must be burned. The grain offering from the priest is not to be eaten; all of it must be consumed on the altar.
The Eternal One continued to Moses.
Eternal One: Go, talk with Aaron and his sons, and give them these commands for the ritual of the purification offering for sin: The purification offering is to be slaughtered in My presence in the same place where the burnt offering is slaughtered; it is most sacred. The priest who presents the purification offering is to eat his portion of it in a sacred place inside the courtyard around the sanctuary. Anything that comes in contact with the flesh of the sacrifice will be made holy. When the blood of the sacrifice gets on any clothing, you must wash the bloodstain out in a sacred place. If a clay pot is used to boil the sacrifice, it must be shattered and discarded. If it was boiled in a bronze bowl, however, then it must be scrubbed and rinsed with water. Every man who is a priest may eat it; it is most sacred. But none of the offerings from which blood is brought inside the congregation tent as a covering for sin may be eaten. All of it must be consumed on the altar.
The Book of Leviticus, Chapter 6 (The Voice)
A note from The Voice:
Holiness is contagious. We’re accustomed to thinking about it in the negative. “A bad apple spoils the barrel,” our Western wisdom instructs us. But the Scriptures are clear that holiness, too, spreads from contact. Essentially, holiness refers to whatever is set apart for God’s purpose and use. The act of setting apart creates a reality that can transform anything it touches. Holy bread consumed in the holy place by holy priests created a holiness that could spread throughout the community.
A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for friday, may 20 of 2022 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms
A post by John Parsons about being reborn:
No one wants to say they are needy, broken, weak, and so on, and indeed such a confession is abhorrent to the heart of the proud. The truth, however, is that we are indeed all these things, and Yeshua told us we were blessed if we understood this (Matt. 5:3-6). There is great danger to pretend you are strong and capable of living life on your own terms, since eventually you will be blindsided by the truth about your condition. On the other hand, the confession of our weakness opens the way to God's power, as Yeshua said to Paul in his affliction: "My grace is sufficient for you (דַּי־לְךָ חַסְדִּי), for my power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Cor. 12:9). Paul came to see that the various trials and afflictions in his life taught his profound dependence on God: "for when I am weak, then I am strong."
Access to this grace, however, comes at the expense of our pride. We must humbly confess who and what we are, and therefore we must entirely abandon hope in our own strength and virtues. "We are only as sick as the secrets we keep," especially those secrets we keep from ourselves - those self-deceptions and illusions we use to defend ourselves.
Suppose, for instance, that you have the bad habit of complaining and even cursing when you are beset by troubles, and you want to stop doing these behaviors. You may resolve to be more optimistic and grateful, or you may read self-help books -- or even take anger management classes -- but nothing will do you any lasting good until you know "in your bones" that you are powerless to change your heart. That is the first step to being set free. Or suppose that you are habitually unhappy, troubled, anxious, and in pain, yet you want to find inner peace and joy. Again, apart from the miracle of God there is no lasting remedy. You must be honest with yourself and confess the truth of your condition, asking God to do in you what you cannot do for yourself. As Yeshua said: "What is impossible with man is possible with God." So in this way God uses your sins to correct you or bring you to the end of yourself, and in that way awareness of your personal weakness is a blessing from God.
Recall that Yeshua said out of the heart proceed “evil thoughts," or more literally, "evil dialogs" or "reasonings within yourself" (διαλογισμοι πονηροι). You are tethered to yourself - you cannot escape yourself - yet a divided house cannot stand. Attempting to relate to yourself apart from a relationship with God leads to ongoing despair -- either the despair of resigning into yourself or else the despair of fleeing from yourself -- but either way, to a condition of anxiety derived from not being grounded in the life of God... “Unless a seed of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it abides alone...” (John 12:24). Yeshua is the source of all life, and we find nourishment, strength, and the meaning of who we are as we connect with him. By faith we affirm: “I have been crucified with Messiah, and it is no longer ‘I’ who live, but Messiah who lives in me” (Gal. 2:20). There is a new self that comes from above, known only in spiritual relationship with the Savior. The miracle of the exchanged life comes as we surrender to the truth of what God does for us (2 Cor. 5:17). That is the essence of the gospel, “the power of God for salvation for all who believe” (Rom. 1:16). Therefore we do not attempt to crucify ourselves, or labor to reform our corrupted lower nature, but we instead accept that we already have been crucified and healed by the mercy and miracle of God. We clothe ourselves in the robes of His righteousness as we celebrate God’s redeeming love for our lives. Only then are we miraculously empowered by the Spirit to truly “love the LORD and keep his charge” (see Deut. 11:1).
The gate is narrow that leads to life, and few there be that find it (Matt. 7:14). That is part of the offense of the cross, after all - the confession you are lost, in darkness, and in need of salvation. Few receive this truth into their hearts because they want to be in control and refuse to let go; few regard their weakness as a blessing that opens the gate to God's strength. Let the weak say "I am strong" because of what the LORD has done. God’s grace is sufficient, and his strength is perfected in weakness: "So then, I will boast most gladly about my weaknesses, so that the power of Messiah may reside in me" (2 Cor. 12:9). “I can do all things through the Messiah who strengthens me” (Phil. 4:13). Amen. [Hebrew for Christians]
and another about man-made fences:
Didn’t Yeshua condemn the “traditions of men” in His day? Didn’t he reject the traditions of the elders of Israel (Mark 7:5-13)? Didn’t he rhetorically ask the religionists of his day, “Why do you break the commandment of God for the sake of your tradition” (Matt. 15:2-10)? Yes he assuredly did, though it is important to understand the historical context of these sorts of statements. First, he was certainly not condemning ���true traditions” that are outlined in the Scriptures themselves. Yeshua’s entire ministry was predicated on the “appointed times” of the LORD and their fulfillment in him. “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them” (Matt. 5:17). Indeed, when he was asked what was the greatest commandment of God, Yeshua quoted the Shema: "Hear O Israel, the LORD is our God, the LORD alone; and you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength" (Mark 12:29-30), something Jewish tradition had affirmed since the time of Moses (Deut. 6:4-5). So no, Yeshua did not object to all traditions, but rather took issue with dogmatic interpretation of various aspects of ritual law and with the rabbinical interpositions that “built fences” around the simple meaning of the Scriptures. These man-made “fences” (i.e., gezerot) created unwarranted restrictions that obfuscated the teaching of Scripture and effectively relocated the source of interpretative authority to the religious leaders of the day... This was the crux of the disagreement between Yeshua and the Pharisees. For more about this, see the article: “The Heart of the Law; the Law of the Gospel” (link below). [Hebrew for Christians]
5.18.22 • Facebook
Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research
May 20, 2022
Pay Attention
“Those things, which ye have both learned, and received, and heard, and seen in me, do: and the God of peace shall be with you.” (Philippians 4:9)
From earliest childhood, we learn by watching the actions and lives of others. First, of course, our parents, then our peers and educators, politicians, business leaders, musicians, celebrities—the list is nearly endless. We learn by what we receive, hear, and see.
Jesus said, “They shall be all taught of God” (John 6:45). The foundational learning process that enables the receiving and hearing of further truth must come first from God, through His Word and by the born-again believer. Paul’s young protégé, Timothy, first learned from his mother and grandmother about God, and then under Paul’s tutelage from the Scriptures (2 Timothy 1:5; 3:15).
But the key to learning is active attention! One must first receive, hear, and see. Paul commended the Thessalonians because they “received the word of God which ye heard of us, ye received it not as the word of men, but as it is in truth, the word of God” (1 Thessalonians 2:13). The Bereans were “more noble” because they “searched the scriptures daily” (Acts 17:11). The wise preacher “gave good heed, and sought out, and set in order many proverbs” (Ecclesiastes 12:9).
Information, however well absorbed, is worthless without applying that which is learned. The philosophers of Athens were scorned because they “spent their time in nothing else, but either to tell, or to hear some new thing” (Acts 17:21).
All of us must first be learners. Soon, however, we must work out our “own salvation with fear and trembling,” since God has chosen to work through us (Philippians 2:12-13). HMM III
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if you’re still taking prompts, can you do happiness #1?
Before we launch into 6b next week, here's a small fantasy of a scene that I wish the cw would give us. Happiness #1 from this prompt list again.
“I’ve loved you since the day we met.”
“Alex calls it The Honesty Policy.”
Lena takes the mug of hot chocolate Kara offers, cradling it between her hands. “The Honesty Policy?” she asks, as Kara sits down on the couch beside her.
“I imagine Kelly probably fed it to her,” Kara says. “But she was helping me try to figure out how we could get ourselves… well, back to normal, after everything, and she was really insistent that this one was worth a try.”
“What is it?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. No more secrets,” Kara says, tapping her own collarbone, then fixing her gaze pointedly on Lena. “No more lying. We tell each other things. We’re honest. We trust each other with our secrets.”
Lena nods, looking down into her mug of hot chocolate. The dim lights of Kara’s loft glow orange across her cheekbones, and in the silence, the sounds of late-night passing cars rumble up from the street below. It’s the first time they’ve really spent time truly alone together since… well everything.
There’s still a lot of awkwardness between them; turns out secrets and betrayal and double-crossing—and the fact that forgiveness was barely hatching between them when Kara was banished to the phantom zone—will do that to a friendship. There was the initial hug, of course, after Kara was rescued, when Lena wrapped her arms around Kara and buried her face in Kara’s neck and held her so tightly that Kara was certain she’d never let go, her breath coming in ragged gasps and her whole body quivering. It was somewhat surreal, the warm shock of having Lena in her arms after so many months, her hair against Kara’s cheek, the muted scent of her shampoo. They’d sank to the floor, still holding each as the ship creaked around them, and stayed there for god knows how long in each other arms.
But since then, since that initial wordless embrace that felt as much like coming home as anything, they haven’t known what to say to each other. They work together easily enough, the animosity between Supergirl and Lena finally gone, but it’s more difficult when they’re just Kara and Lena. They’ve forgiven each other, Kara thinks. Or at least agreed to forgive each other, even if there’s still work to be done. But it’s weird. It’s not like they can snap straight back into how things were before.
Hence The Honesty Policy.
“Okay,” Lena says finally. “Yes. No more secrets. A clean start.”
A clean start. It’s what they need, after an entire friendship where one or the other of them has been hiding things. For the first time, everything between them will be out in the open. Nothing left to hide.
It’s oddly freeing.
Kara takes a sip of her hot chocolate. “So, where do we start?”
“Start?”
“I think we should have just an honest conversation. I don’t want this to be awkward anymore, I want to be able to talk to you like we used to. So, in the interest of honesty, tell me something you’ve never told me before. It doesn’t have to be big—” she adds hurriedly, when Lena’s eyes widen in alarm. “Something small. Something tiny you’ve never had reason to tell me.”
Lena nods slowly, thinking. “In the interest of honesty…” she starts. “In the interest of honesty, I… I really think that those bangs were a mistake.”
Kara makes a noise of offended disbelief in the back of her throat. “I—Rude!”
“You said to be honest!” Lena says, biting her lip like she’s holding back a laugh. “They’re growing out now, anyways. It looks much better.”
Kara gives her bangs a self-conscious pat. They’re still at a slightly awkward length, but they’re long enough to blend in semi-decently with the rest of her hair now. “If we’re being honest, then,” she says. “I think that blouse is really ugly.”
Lena looks down at herself. She sounds slightly hurt when she says, “What’s wrong with it?”
“Everything! It’s—the pattern! The sleeves! The collar! It looks like it’s made of cheap polyester.”
“It’s designer!” Lena pouts.
“Who designed it?”
“Well, I thought that blazer you wore last week was kind of hideous. I didn’t say anything at the time, but in the interest of honesty…”
Kara laughs, and Lena’s irritated expression melts away at her laughter, something in her eyes softening. It’s an expression Kara’s been seeing on her more often, in moments she catches Lena watching her when she thinks Kara isn’t paying attention.
She’s always paying attention to Lena.
“Maybe we should just agree to say that we both have questionable fashion taste sometimes and call it a day,” she says, downing the rest of her hot chocolate and placing the mug on the table.
Lena takes a dainty sip of her own still mostly filled mug. “Fine.”
There’s a long pause, and Kara taps her fingers on her pant leg and tries to think of a new conversation starter. She finally settles on. “In the interest of honesty… how are you holding up?”
Lena shrugs. “I’m okay, I suppose. I’m anxious about Lex—I know it’s only a matter of time before he’s back on our heels. Mostly, I’m just glad to have you back.” She looks over her mug at Kara. “I think that’s more a question I should be asking you, though.”
The look of intense concern in Lena’s eyes makes her feel hot, and Kara squirms slightly, pulling her collar away from her neck with a finger. She wants to say I’m fine, but honesty is the whole point of this exercise. “I’m… still not great. Being back there it… brought up a lot. Brought back a lot. I’m still having a really hard time with it all. It’s—it’s hard to talk about.”
“We don’t have to talk about it right now.”
“I want to talk about with you at some point. I just… don’t want it to ruin every conversation I have, you know? I want some things to be normal, still. I want to pretend things can be normal.”
“That makes sense,” Lena nods. She looks small when she says, “In the—in the interest of honesty, are you still mad?”
“At you?” Lena nods again, and Kara sighs, looking away. “It’s complicated, I guess. A little, maybe? I meant it when I said I forgave you, but there’s still part of me that’s a little angry. You did a lot of things that were… really bad, Lena.”
“I know.”
“Are you still mad at me?” Kara asks, and Lena’s shaking her head before she even finishes the question.
“No. No, I’m done being mad at you. I get it. I get why you hid your identity, and I wish you’d told me sooner, but I’m not angry anymore. I don’t have enough energy to be angry anymore. I’m happier if I don’t hate you.”
“Well, I’m glad for that.”
“I would have done anything to get you back, you know,” Lena says in a rush, words spilling out like she can’t stop them. “You say I did bad things before, but I would have watched the world burn if it meant I could have brought you back.” She looks down at her lap. “Who knows what I would have done if Alex hadn’t been there to stop me.”
“Lena.” Kara reaches over to take her hand. “You know I can’t possibly be mad at you for that.”
“No?”
“Of course not.”
“Okay,” Lena whispers. Kara watches her swirl around the dregs of her hot chocolate and takes a deep breath.
There’s still one more secret between them. One more secret that has the potential to ruin their friendship. Kara thinks they’re both aware of it, on some level. Aware of the way the weight of it shifts their every interaction. The others are aware of it too, have maybe known longer than Kara has. Alex certainly has. It was she who looked Kara in the eye when they were discussing this whole honestly policy and said, “You have to tell her this. You know you do.”
She can’t risk another secret in their relationship.
“Um, in the interest of honesty,” she starts, and finds she can’t quite meet Lena’s eyes. “I have to tell you—in all honesty, I would probably just keep it a secret, if I could, but I don’t think we should do secrets anymore, so I just need to tell you that I, um, have feelings for you.”
Lena straightens. “Feelings?” she says, her voice cautious.
Kara closes her eyes. Takes a breath. Steadies herself. Opens them again. “I’m in love with you,” she says. “Um, nothing has to change if you don’t want it to, but I need… I need you to know.”
“Oh,” breathes Lena. She opens her mouth, and it seem to take several moments for the words to catch up with her. “Well, in—in the interest of honesty, Kara, I’ve—I’ve been in love with you for years.” She gives a wry little half smile. “If we’re being honest.”
“What? You have?”
“Darling,” says Lena. “I’ve loved you since the day we met.”
“The day we met?”
“Why do you think it hurt me so badly when I found out who you were? Why do you think I was so deep in denial about it that I never figured it out myself? Do you really think you were that good at hiding it?”
“I mean, I thought—”
“The disguise. The hair. The glasses.” She puts down her mug, then reaches over and gently tugs the glasses from Kara’s face, folding the arms in and placing them on the table. She brushes a strand of hair behind Kara’s ear. “You mentioned Supergirl far too much as Kara and Kara far too much as Supergirl and one time you told me you flew to my office on a bus.”
“That’s—yeah, that’s fair, actually.”
“You’re in love with me? Honestly?” whispers Lena.
“I am. I really, truly am. Why do you think I refused to give up on you when everyone else was ready to?”
“I thought that just how you are. You don’t give up on anyone.”
“I try not to. But you, I could never bear to, even when it seemed like the only logical option to everyone else. Why do you think I waited so long to tell you in the first place? I was so scared to ruin things between us.”
“Why do you think I bought you an entire media empire?” Lena murmurs, and she’s so close, hand fisted in the collar of Kara’s shirt.
Kara giggles. “Why do you think I flew all over Europe to get you lunch?”
Lena laughs, and it’s such a relief to hear her laughter again, to let the conversation flow between them. There’s a bud of hope for the future that’s been sitting in Kara’s chest for years now, and under Lena’s adoring gaze, it starts to open.
“In all honesty,” Kara says, “I’d really like to kiss you right now.”
Lena slips a hand into her hair, runs her thumb over Kara’s cheekbone. “In all honesty?” She leans in, pressing their foreheads together. “I’d like that.”
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Bring It On Home
Summary: After one of her regular customers catches her boss stealing her tips, the reader gets a job from Jensen. She figures he’s just being a nice guy but after a run in with a stranger they both learn exactly what they really are to one another...
Pairing: Jensen x daughter!reader
Word Count: 10,500ish
Warnings: language, angst, mention of death/drug use/smut/scary situations, fluff
A/N: Felt like putting a little spin on this one! Enjoy!
______
“Mr. Ackles,” you smirked as he wandered up to the counter with a big smile. “I thought you told me not to sell you anymore donuts. I thought you were slimming down for your next role.”
“Oh, I never said such a thing,” he smirked. “You got any of those maple cinnamon creme filled ones left?”
“Looks like we got one left,” you said. He set his starbucks cup and sunglasses down on the counter and pulled out his wallet. “Anything else?”
“Yeah. I’ll take a butterscotch for De and a dozen of the minis for the kiddos,” he said.
“Anything in particular?” you asked as you started to put together his order.
“Surprise me,” he said.
“I’ll go with glazed and chocolate to be safe,” you said. You set the bag and box down, ringing him up. “Oh and I gotta say, I really liked the new album. You guys were really good.”
“Well thank you very much, Y/N,” he smiled. He stuffed a big tip in the jar like he always did and you gave him a look. “Oh I know you saved that donut for me. Don’t pretend.”
“The fact you come in here every single Thursday at 10:07 in the morning when you’re not working and order the same donut every single time? Oh I don’t know who thought to do that,” you said.
“Mhm. See ya next week, kid,” he said as he headed out.
“Bye, Mr. Ackles,” you said. You saw your manager give you a side eye and you pouted.
“I thought I told you to stop bothering him,” she said.
“He’s nice. It’s a small place. He comes in every week,” you said. She took the money out of the tip jar and shoved it in her pockets. You sighed and heard the door open again, Jensen shaking his head.
“Sorry, left my sunglasses,” he said. He picked them up and paused, staring at the jar. “I just put twenty dollars in there.”
You looked at your manager and she pretended to have to go sign for something. You wiped down the counter and saw him still standing there.
“Can I get you anything else?” you asked. You straightened up and his lip was pursed.
“Does your boss take your tips?” he asked.
“We pool tips here, Mr. Ackles. You know that,” you said.
“Yeah but you make minimum wage. She doesn’t. Does your boss take a cut of the tips?” he asked. You didn’t say anything but apparently you did. He grumbled and pulled out a twenty, sliding it across the counter. “That’s yours, not hers. While I’m at it, I’m gonna say what I’ve been thinking for like, the entire time you’ve waited on me and just go to school. You are way too smart to be working a job like this the rest of your life.”
“Mr. Ackles you don’t-”
“You don’t ring people up. You do the math in your head. You always give me a total before it pops up on the screen. You got a brain. Use it for something better than this, kid,” he said.
“Not everyone is fortunate enough to do that,” you said.
“How old are you?” he asked.
“Twenty two,” you said.
“You got a car?” he asked.
“Yeah?” you said.
“Congratulations. You’re the newest bartender at my brewery. Starts at fifteen bucks an hour,” he said.
“Is that in the morning?” you asked.
“It’s probably evenings, afternoons. Why?” he asked.
“I have another job,” you said. “I can’t work later than noon.”
“You can work in the brewery in the morning then. We got a deal?” he asked. You nodded and he pulled a card out of his wallet. “Call me when you’re done with work today and we’ll get you set up, okay?”
“Thank you. This is gonna help so much,” you said. He smiled and nodded.
“Just hang in there for now. It’ll get better.”
Three Weeks Later
“Good morning,” you heard as you dropped a sack on the floor. You were panting and sweaty, Jensen smiling as he saw you. “Whoa, what are you doing moving those by yourself.”
“My boss said they need to get moved. I was getting started without him was all,” you said.
“Okay your boss is my business partner so I’m like your boss too and no we do not move seventy pound bags by ourselves, understand?” he asked.
“Sorry,” you said, wiping your hand over your face.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “It’s just a bag on the floor.”
“Yeah. I just don’t want to screw this up,” you said. “I really need the money.”
“Well relax. It’s only your second week,” he said. You nodded and he squatted down, hoisting the bag over his shoulder. He walked it over to where they were being moved and tossed it down. “Come here.”
You scurried over and he crossed his arms, looking back at the pallet of raw hops and the bag by his feet.
“Figure out how to make this more efficient,” he said.
“What?”
“I didn’t hire you because I felt sorry for you and I didn’t do it because you’re stronger than the grown men here. You got a brain and I want you to use it. Figure out a way to make this process better. Tell your boss when you got something,” he said.
“Yes sir,” you said.
“None of that sir shit, kid. Just Jensen, okay?”
“Yeah, sorry,” you said. He rolled his eyes and walked away, a pit forming in your stomach. You were so getting fired. You should have just sucked it up and stayed at the donut shop. You’d quit there and your pizza shop job went away when they closed up last week. You knew you could squeak by until you found another part time job. “Jensen?”
He spun around halfway across the room and you swallowed.
“I’m available in the evenings now. I can bartend too if you still need that,” you said.
“I can give you two shifts a week. Same pay. That work?” he asked.
“Yes that’s great,” you said.
“Good. Figure out the bags, Y/N,” he said before he went off. You felt a little better at least. You stared at the bags and pallet, trying to figure out the best way to get the bags over with all of the equipment in the way.
One Hour Later
“So you figured it out,” said Jensen with a knowing smile after you’d told him about your idea to use the forklift to drive around outside and then back in through the other smaller door to bring the bags over to the other side of the equipment. “Took a little longer than I was expecting.”
You frowned and he chuckled.
“Relax. It was a test,” he said.
“A test?” you said and he hummed. “For what?”
“I think your talents would be better suited for stocking management at the moment. You’re gonna track orders as they come in, manage storage, help the workflow stay on track. Sound good?” he asked.
“Yes. Definitely,” you said.
“People are around to help but I think you’ll do just fine,” he said. “I gotta run. Don’t forget to take a lunch break at some point.”
“Jensen. Thanks for the job. Really,” you said.
“You go to college and then you can thank me,” he said. “See you around, kid.”
One Month Later
“Mmm,” you hummed at the end of your shift tending bar. You were sipping on a can of beer and eating a slice of pizza on the quiet patio, a few people finishing up with their drinks before the place closed up for the night.
“Excuse me,” said an older man, probably in his fifties. You stopped mid-chew and he put on a friendly smile. “I’m sorry to bother you. You just look a lot like someone I know. Well I didn’t know her but…”
“Howdy,” said Jensen as he wandered out from the taproom. It wasn’t lost on anyone how he put himself between you and the man. “Enjoying your night sir?”
“Yes. I was just chatting to the young lady here. I thought I knew her from somewhere…” he trailed off. Jensen looked back at you and you swallowed down the pizza in your mouth.
“She must have one of those faces,” he said. “We’re closing up for the night soon sir.”
“I’m not trying to bother her,” he said.
“I know you’re not,” said Jensen. The man didn’t leave though and he stiffened up. “Sir. The young lady doesn’t want to talk to you. She doesn’t know you. Please return to your table.”
“I do know her though,” he said.
“I’m sorry, I don’t…” you said.
“Y/N, go inside,” said Jensen.
“Okay, this is a very awkward situation. But I need to talk to her in private,” said the man. Jensen chuckled but you heard the dark edge to it.
“I need you to leave,” said Jensen.
“I’m a cop.”
“I don’t care if you’re the Easter bunny. You are making my employee uncomfortable,” said Jensen. The man stared at him and then you. Jensen grabbed your arm and started walking inside with you when the man grabbed your hand. “Get your fucking hands off-”
“Y/N, I know your mom,” he said. Jensen kept pulling on you but you shook him off.
“You’re a cop?” you asked as he nodded.
“You’re Y/N, aren’t you,” he said.
“What the fuck is going on?” asked Jensen.
“Y/N, sweetie, we need to call up the Dallas police department right now. There are things you need to know.”
“Things like what?”
Four Hours Later
“Hey kid,” said Jensen as you sat at a conference table in a police station. You stared blankly at the shut file, Jensen setting a candy bar down in front of you. “Didn’t know if you were a chocolate kinda chick.”
“Thank you Jensen,” you said quietly. You didn’t touch it and he bumped your arm.
“You okay?” he asked.
“No,” you said. “Thank you for coming with me to the station and staying. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah well no offense but I was serious about what I said. I wasn’t leaving you alone with some random dude,” he said. “Eat something.”
“I thought I had shitty parents before,” you laughed. “Turns out they fucking killed my mom and took her toddler and pretended I was theirs. What the fuck.”
“I’m not going to pretend to know how you remotely feel right now,” he said. “It’s fucked up. It’s so fucked up.”
“I know,” you said as a detective came in.
“Y/N, this is the file we worked up on your mom,” he said. He opened a page and you saw Jensen stand out of the corner of your eye.
“That’s her mother?” he said.
“Abigail Leandry? Yes,” said the detective. Jensen shook his head. “Mr. Ackles, what-”
“Kayla. Kayla,” he said.
“Mr. Ackles, why do you know the deceased’s middle name?” asked the detective. Jensen was practically white now and you stood up, holding onto him.
“Did you know my mom?” you asked. “Jensen, did you know her?”
“Who’s her father?” asked Jensen.
“There’s no father on record. Mr. Ackles are you-” said the detective as Jensen ran his hand over his face. “What is your relation to the victim, Mr. Ackles?”
“I had a one night stand when I was twenty years old,” he said as he looked at you. “She said her name was Kayla.”
“What?” you said. The detective looked at the both of you and stood up. “Where are you going?”
“I think we need to do a paternity test as soon as possible.”
Two Hours Later
“I…” started Jensen for the fifth time as you sat in his passenger seat. You stared at the dashboard, Jensen opening his mouth again. “Y/N...if I knew…”
“I know,” you said. “Can you drive me back to my car now. I want to go home. It’s been a long day.”
“It’s after midnight. Why don’t I drop you off and we can swing by to get your car in the morning,” he said.
“Whatever.” You rested your head on the glass and shut your eyes. He started the truck but it didn’t move.
“We used protection. I wasn’t…” he said.
“It’s not a guarantee. Dude, you’re my dad. Whatever. Just take me home. Please,” you said.
“Where do you live,” he asked quietly. You gave him the address and twenty minutes later you were outside of your apartment, Jensen looking around. You put a hand on the door and he sighed. “Wait.”
“Jensen, I’m tired.”
“I know. I’m about to have a very fun time telling my wife about this. I just...this is not a safe neighborhood for a young woman to live alone in,” he said. “There’s stabbings and shootings around here all the time.”
“I grew up with methhead parents. That was kind of par for the course,” you said.
“I’m a stranger. I understand. Would you consider…” he said and you opened the door.
“I’m fine, Jensen. Go home. You have a long night still,” you said.
“I’ll pick you up at nine,” he said. You hummed and he leaned over. “Wait. Can I have your number?”
You gave him your phone and he put yours in his before putting his in yours and handing it back.
“Hey,” he said as you started to head inside. You groaned and turned around. He took a deep breath and swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
“Goodnight, Jensen,” you said. You went inside your unit before he could say anything else and locked the door shut. You wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge, nothing in there but a six pack of beer from the brewery. You shook your head and looked in the cabinet, half a bottle of vodka still there. You took it out and poured yourself a glass, wincing as you drank it down.
Maybe you’d be lucky enough to wake up in the morning and find out it was all a nightmare.
“Y/N,” said Jensen as you started work the next morning. You saw Danneel talking with her brother across the room, both of them glancing at you. “Can we talk?”
You nodded and he wandered out back to the employee area, taking a seat at a picnic table. You sat across from him, Jensen bouncing his leg like crazy.
“I thought I should at least tell you...I met Kayla at a club when I was twenty. I was home visiting family and went out with some friends. She was from Houston. We talked, flirted a bit, she was...forward with what she was interested in and being young and stupid like I was, I felt as though I should have at least one one-night stand in my life. I wasn’t...comfortable with it at first but it happened. We used protection and I left and I never really thought of her ever again. Until now obviously.”
“What’s your point, Jensen?” you asked. He bit his bottom lip and stilled his leg.
“We both learned some things last night. We know your mom got involved with drugs. We know that’s why she was killed. The people that raised you probably did it. She has no family left. The people that took you weren’t good and they’re dead and you have no family out there, anywhere. I know you were in a group home when you were sixteen after they died. I know you bounced around a bit and wound up in foster care until you aged out last year. I know your home isn’t safe and your car is older than you.”
“Jensen.”
“I’d like the chance to give you a real dad. I’d like to be there for you the way I should have always been. De and I both do. We can give you everything you need or want,” he said.
“I understand,” you said. He smiled and you rolled your eyes. “This would look horrible for you if it got out that you have some stray, wouldn’t it. Your grand idea is to pay me off?”
“What?” he asked and you stood up. “Y/N, that’s not-”
“I did just fine my whole life without a real dad. I don’t need one now,” you said. You headed back towards the entrance and he caught up to you grabbing your shoulder.
“Stop. Wait a second. I-” he said as you spun around.
“Leave me alone. I shouldn’t even exist. I will do just fine without you like I always have.” You started walking again and headed to your car, sliding behind the wheel before you knew it. You drove home and sat in your apartment, expecting a call that you’d been fired.
Five minutes after being home you heard a car pull up out front. The doorbell rang and you ignored it. A text came in on your phone which you also promptly ignored.
“Y/N. It’s Jensen,” he said as he knocked on the door. “Kid, I...we don’t gotta be the fucking Brady Bunch. You don’t have to do anything. Just let me try. I’ll do all the work, I swear. I just...I just gotta know you’re okay. I know you’re not. This is so fucked up. You should have had a better life. You should have had me. I would have stopped you from living through all the shit you have. I’m sorry this happened to you.”
You stared at the door and pursed your lips.
“I want to know my daughter. I want to be part of her life. I don’t want to hide you from anyone,” he said. “Let me give you what you deserve.”
You walked over and slowly opened the door, Jensen wearing a worried smile.
“I’m not calling you dad.”
“You don’t have to,” he chuckled. “Can I come in?”
You swung the door open wider and he stepped past you, pausing in the hall as you closed up behind him.
“You live here?” he asked.
“No, I stay here for shits and giggles. Yes I live here,” you said. He stepped past the kitchen and into your family room where you took a seat on the old couch, Jensen spinning around. “Yeah, it’s shitty. I get it.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s in violation of health codes,” he said. He took a seat on the couch and made a face. “Can I push my luck and convince you to move out of here?”
“I don’t need charity, Jensen. You’ve given me enough already,” you said.
“Parents put a roof over their kids' heads. I’m a few years late so sue me but we gotta get you somewhere better than this,” he said.
“I drink. I swear. I walk around in my underwear and I have adult friends sleepover so there’s no way in hell I’m moving in with you.”
“I have a guest house,” he said. “It’s private. You’re not a child and I’ll do my best to not treat you like one. But it’s safe and nice and you can have your own space...just forty feet from where I live is all.”
You crossed your arms and he put on a pair of sad eyes.
“You’re milking it a bit don’t you think,” you said.
“I’m not acting,” he said. “I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want. I’ll give you money for food and gas and pay for the rest if you don’t want to talk to me. Just give me this. Let me get you out of this shithole.”
“I don’t need saving.”
“I didn’t say I was going to save you. I want to protect you. There’s a difference.”
He set a hand on his leg, turning it palm up. You watched it and after a moment set your hand in his.
“Don’t fuck me over,” you said.
“Not gonna happen,” he said. “Why don’t we run to the store to get some boxes and we can pack up your stuff?”
An hour later you were following Jensen in your car down the driveway of a very nice house. You parked behind him and got out, staring at it and the yard and turning your head to see the multiple cars in his garage.
“Y/N,” said Jensen. He was standing closer, giving you a smile. “We can move the boxes in a minute. Why don’t I show you the guest house first?”
“Okay,” you said. You followed him around a path that went behind the garage, a two story building back there.
“It’s only one bedroom. But it’s got it’s own office on the first floor,” he said. “It’s not that big. You can always stay in the house with the rest of us if you change your mind but I understand wanting your privacy.”
He unlocked the door and you stepped inside, Jensen mentioning something about dust but you were still floored by how nice it was. The kitchen was beautiful and open to the family room. The large wood dining table sat in a cute breakfast nook. There was a fireplace and big windows with a staircase in the back heading up to a second floor.
“...I know it’s a bit plain,” he said and you turned your head, Jensen smiling back at him. “You haven’t heard a word I said, have you.”
“This is too nice. Jensen this is way too nice. I gotta pay you rent for-” you said but he shook his head. “Jensen.”
“I have some contingencies for you staying here. You follow those and I’ll pay for this place and your food and gas. Okay?” he asked.
“What are they?” you asked.
“No big parties. You want to have something small that’s fine but no big blowouts,” he said.
“Do I look like I have a lot of friends?” you asked.
“I want you to go to school. You can keep your job at the brewery but you’re gonna go to school. I will pay for it but I want you to have an education.”
You pursed your lips but nodded.
“I’m getting you a new car, one much safer. Lastly, if you see the kids, please try not to swear in front of them. They’re young and we do our best to not do that around them,” he said.
“Fine,” you said. “Don’t expect me to start having big family dinners or that kind of thing.”
“I understand. I’ll move the boxes and um, maybe you can make up a list of things you need for me to get at the store.”
“I have everything I need in the boxes,” you said.
“You have one pan and like three plates,” he said.
“Yeah?” you asked.
“Y/N, that’s not normal.”
“You realize this isn’t normal right?” you said as you looked around.
“If you change your mind...I’m gonna get your things, let you unpack,” he said. He left and ten minutes later you had four boxes by the door, Jensen excusing himself away. You unpacked your kitchen items, knowing he might have had a point. But he was buying absolutely everything for you and it was a little ridiculous.
You took your bag of clothes upstairs, swallowing when you saw the bedroom and bathroom up there. It was like it was out of a magazine. There was even a small balcony off the room. You stepped out and looked around at a yard and saw a pool off in the distance.
There was no way in Hell you belonged in a place like that.
That Evening
You were cooking dinner for yourself with the over abundance of groceries Jensen had left at the door earlier when you heard a knock. You moved the pan off the heat and opened up, Jensen standing there with a smile.
“Can I help you?” you asked.
“We’re about to have dinner if you’d like to join us,” he said.
“You said I don’t have to talk to anyone if I don’t want to.”
“I know. I just wanted to offer. It’s your first...are you cooking?” he asked as he saw into the kitchen.
“Yes. I appreciate the offer but no thank you,” you said.
“I literally just gave you some extra pantry staples for the night before I can run to the store in the morning. You’re making dinner out of that stuff?” he asked.
“Yes?” you said. “You gave me pasta and olive oil. I will survive for the night.”
“You’re making pasta in a pan?” he asked.
“Yes. You put water in the pan and put in some pasta. It’s like magic,” you said.
“Alright. I’ll see you in the morning then,” he said. You shut the door on him and went back to the stove. You stared at the messy pan and turned the stove off. You sat down on the couch with your head in your hands.
He had never, never been anything but nice to you when you were a complete stranger. Of course he was going to go overboard since he found out you were his kid. You were being bitchy for no reason and he was still being nice.
There was a knock at the door but you saw him walk past the window. You got up and opened the door, a large pot sitting on the small bench by the door. He was halfway across the grass and you swallowed.
“Jensen?” you called out. He spun around and smiled.
“Keep it,” he said.
“What...what are you having? For dinner?”
“Pork roast with mashed sweet potatoes and roasted veggies. S’pretty good,” he said. “We got ice cream for dessert.”
You bit your bottom lip and he walked over to you, frowning as he stared down.
“I don’t blame you for not having much faith in people or being cautious of me. I really don’t. But I am your dad and you are my daughter. To you that means nothing. I understand. But you’re one of the most important things in my life now. It can be one sided if you want that. It can be that simple if you want that. Like I said, you can ignore me the rest of my life if you want and I would never blame you. But I can give you more than a place to stay and money. There’s shit a lot more important than those things. You can have it if you want it. Just come on inside if you decide you do.”
You crossed your arms and looked down. He didn’t leave yet and you took a few deep breaths.
“I’ve never really trusted anyone before,” you said. “I’m not...I do want a family, Jensen. I do. But my life isn’t like this. I dropped out of high school and got a GED. I have hookups most nights. I’m probably going to get pregnant, marry the guy, have another kid, get divorced, live in a small old apartment while working two jobs and that’s my life. That’s gonna be life, Jensen. I’ve known that’s gonna be my life since I was a kid. I don’t have goals or dreams. I’m just here because you feel guilty and I can take advantage of that right now. I’m gonna push back and push back until you throw me out or I leave because I’m not gonna trust you. I’m never going to trust you, Jensen. You don’t have to feel bad about this situation. You don’t. You did nothing wrong. I’m not supposed to even be here. I think it’s better if you just gave me some money and I’ll leave and you never have to think about me ever again.”
“I’m gonna think about you everyday for the rest of my life,” he said. “You deserve a better life than what you described. You deserve a good job and to fall in love and have children because you want to. I want you, Y/N not out of guilt. I only feel guilty I wasn’t there for you. I want you because you’re my daughter and I love you. It’s all there is to it.”
You sighed and heard thunder in the distance.
“You can stay in the house. You can live with us. We’d love it if you did,” he said. You looked back at the guest house. For the first time you noticed the bags of concrete stacked up on the side.
“You were gonna tear it down, weren’t you,” you said.
“We didn’t need it. It was gonna be an extra garage space. But that’s-”
“Will I have my own room?” you asked quietly. “In the house.”
“Yes. Your own room, bathroom, big closet. Your own part of the house.”
“...How do I know you’re telling the truth?” you asked.
“You don’t. Have dinner with us. Talk to your siblings. Maybe they can give you some insight,” he said. You walked past him as a light rain came down, Jensen showing you in the back door and up a set of stairs. There were a pair of toddlers at a table, an older girl in the kitchen with Danneel as they dished up some plates. “Y/N’s going to join us.”
“That’s great,” said Danneel as she handed the girl a plate. “JJ, would you give that to Y/N and get her some silverware?”
“Sure,” she said. She walked over to you and you took the plate. “Are you mom and dad’s friend?”
“She’s your sister,” said Jensen as he helped in the kitchen. He put down a glass at an empty chair and you took a seat, JJ returning quickly with a fork and knife.
“You’re kinda old,” she said as she set them down.
“You’re kinda short,” you said.
“Am not,” she said as she went to her seat.
“Yeah you are,” said the littlest girl. Jensen had brought her in to get donuts a few times and you saw her recognize you. “Hi!”
“Hi Arrow,” you said with a smile.
“JJ, Arrow, Zepp,” said Jensen as he leaned over the back of her chair and poured a glass of water for you from the carafe. “This is Y/N and she’s gonna be around quite a bit more we hope.”
“Okay. Who’s your favorite princess?” asked Arrow.
“Hm. That’s a tough one. I don’t know if she qualifies as a princess but I always liked Rapunzel,” you said as Jensen and Danneel carried over their plates. “Who’s your favorite?”
An hour later you were still discussing Disney characters with the kids, Jensen scooping up the twins under each arm.
“Daddy,” groaned Zeppelin as he was spun upside down. “We were playing.”
“You two and your sister need baths, stinkers, and then a bedtime story. How’s that sound?” he asked.
“Can Y/N read it?” he asked as he looked at you.
“Sure,” you said.
“Yay!” he said.
“We’ll be about half an hour with these guys. If you want to come up I can show you your space,” said Jensen. You nodded and followed them all upstairs. Danneel went off with JJ down a hall, Jensen nodding towards one end. “That’s me and De over there. Kids are down that hall and the guest suite and loft is to the right.”
“Thanks,” you said. You wandered down the hall and found a large open space with a couch and TV, more of an adult hang out space from the looks of it. There was a door nearby and you opened it, walking into a large bedroom with a canopy bed. “Holy shit.”
It was nicer than the guest house and you walked around, stepping into a beautiful on suite bathroom with double vanities, a separate shower and a giant ass tub. The walk in closet was huge and you were absolutely in love with the wide window bench and bookcases.
“Hey,” said Jensen behind you. You spun around and saw him sporting a partially wet shirt. “You like it?”
“It’s warm,” you said.
“Well feel free to move some clothes and stuff in for the night. There’s a few raincoats in the front hall closet downstairs. I gotta try and get these three washed before the storm hits,” he said.
“It’s no problem,” you said. He smiled and started to leave when you took a step forward. “Jensen?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry about before, how I acted and what I said. No one’s ever taken care of me and not wanted something in return,” you said.
“Apology accepted. All I will ever want is you to be happy. We’ll get there eventually,” he said. He left and after exploring the room for a few more minutes, you took a raincoat from the front closet and went outside, packing up most of your things and bringing them up to your new room. You’d just set a box down when a toddler in a pair up pull ups ran into your room.
“Y/N, can I have a story now?” asked Zeppelin.
“Zepp...Zeppy…” you heard Jensen call from somewhere else.
“You wanna show me your room and then I can tell you a story?” you asked. He grabbed your hand and pulled you out, Jensen sighing as he found you in the hall. “I got him.”
“Well someone needs his pajamas on,” said Jensen. Zeppelin grumbled but he did tug on his shirt at least once you were in his room. Jensen tugged his pants on and Zeppelin rushed over to his bookcase, picking out one and handing it to you. He crawled up in bed and you sat on the stool nearby, reading and showing him the pages for about ten minutes before you watched him close his eyes and huff quietly.
“Night, little guy,” you said. You put the book on his nightstand and set the stool back. Jensen smiled and flicked the light off by the door, a nightlight keeping the space dimly lit. He shut the door and you were quiet as you saw Danneel duck out of a room. He nodded and you followed the two of them to the loft area, taking a seat on the end of the couch as he settled into a chair, Danneel sitting close by.
“I think Zepp’s a fan,” she said with a smile. “I think they all are.”
“Kids don’t tend to be the problem in these situations,” you said. You looked at her and she nodded. “Are you...okay-”
“I would much rather have you stay in this house than out there by yourself. You’ve been on your own enough,” she said.
“What was your reaction?” you asked as you quickly glanced to Jensen.
“A bit of shock. But I saw the test results and he has…” she said, Jensen nodding. “He mentioned once when you first started working at the brewery about feeling protective of you. We both assumed it was because you were young and on your own and trying to get by. I’ve never been quite that bad but when he first started out after he left home, things were tight for him. We understand struggling a bit. Not to the same extent as you obviously but we get it. Now with what you know, I think there was some paternal instinct coming out he didn’t quite see.”
“In my experience, parents aren’t good things. My life got better after them,” you said. “But I’m willing to try if he is.”
“All of us will,” said Jensen. “It’ll take time which will be the hard part probably but if you allow us, we can be parents to you too. We won’t make rules for you. You’re an adult and we’ll treat you like one. But we’ll treat you like our child too. De and I will probably screw that up sometimes so all I ask is that you let us slip up from time to time and hopefully this can turn out the way we hope it does.”
“Do I have to go to college?” you asked. Jensen glanced to Danneel and back at you. “I don’t have the best grades and I literally dropped out my senior year. Does a community college even take a GED?”
“I was thinking more like UT,” he said. You laughed and he raised an eyebrow.
“You’re serious? I didn’t even take SATs or ACTs or…” you trailed off as you turned to Danneel who shrugged. “I can’t.”
“Yes you can.”
“No, I can’t,” you scoffed. You gripped the corner of the armchair and he sighed. “I can’t-”
“Shh,” he said as he got up. He squatted down in front of you and smiled. “Don’t be scared. We’ll figure it out together, all of us. That room over there? That is your bedroom now and no one will ever kick you out of it. I don’t want you leaving until you’re ready and I think we all know you’re a long way away from that. I believe you can go to school and do anything you want to. I’ll believe for the both of us right now, okay?”
“I’m too stupid. I don’t fit in aside from with sleazy guys,” you said.
“I disagree with that,” he said. “Trust me?”
You sighed but gave him a nod.
“I know it’s been a long day and you didn’t get a lot of sleep last night but there is a bowl of ice cream downstairs with your name on it if you’re interested,” he said.
“Maybe. I’d like to wash up,” you said. “I know today was kind of busy but I still have work in the morning right?”
“Don’t worry about work right now. We go it covered,” said Danneel. “I can show you where stuff is in your bathroom.”
You swallowed but nodded, following her back into your room and the bathroom. A part of you was expecting her to say something about wanting you gone. After all you technically weren’t hers. You were barely Jensen’s.
“There’s a bunch of stuff like soap and shampoo and that kind of stuff in here,” she said, opening up a tall cabinet door. “Towels are up top. There’s not a hair dryer in here but I can just drop mine off outside on your bed if you want?”
“Air dry is fine,” you said quietly.
“Honestly I do the same most of the time,” she said. “There are some pads and tampons under the sink but I gotta run to a few stores in the morning anyways so maybe you can come with and we can get whatever brand you like.”
“I don’t…” you said as she cocked her head. “I get all my supplies from a free clinic. I can’t...I couldn’t afford that brand name stuff before.”
“Oh,” she said. She made a strange face and shook her head. “Well we can try them out until we find one you like.”
“Okay,” you said.
“If you need anything just let me know,” she said. She walked past you but you heard her pause in the doorway. “Y/N a bit of advice.”
You turned around and waited for her to drop the nice act.
“Yeah?”
“Stay away from sleazy guys. They just want sex. They don’t care about you.”
“I know that.”
“Then do me a favor and the next time you spend the night with a guy, do it cause you feel a connection with him. There’s a difference.”
“I get that too.”
“Then why sleep around?”
“Because I’ll take a fake connection over no connection.”
“You don’t need a man to be happy,” she said. “Jensen and I spend a lot of time apart.”
“What is your point?” you sighed.
“Don’t fuck random guys cause you’re lonely. You might not realize this yet but you’re never gonna be alone ever again. Get used to us cause you’re fucking ours and we want better for you than a random fuck. You got that?”
“You don’t talk to me the way Jensen does,” you said quietly.
“Because he’s in pain right now and he is so scared of setting you off. I on the other hand know what it’s like to be a young woman. I won’t tell you not to have your fun. But have it with somebody special. Good guys do exist. Good dads exist. He’s not gonna hurt you. You said you’d try out there so please try.”
“Do you wish I would go?”
“I wish someday you realize what a silly question that is to be asking,” she said. “I might barely be old enough to be your mother but you didn’t just get a dad with this. You have him and you have me and three half-siblings and a whole shitload of other people. So the next time you’re lonely, you come to one of us and maybe the next guy you sleep with you can do it cause he’s a good guy. Understand?”
“Yes,” you said. She nodded and started to leave when you cleared your throat. “Danneel?”
“Yeah?” she asked as she turned around.
“Where do you meet nice guys? I haven’t had much luck,” you said.
“You’re young. Don’t worry about it, sweetie,” she said as some thunder shook the house. “Wash up at the sink. Jensen gets a wee paranoid about showers in thunderstorms.”
“I’m the same way,” you said.
“You two must be related or something,” she smirked.
“Seriously,” you said.
“Aw, you got his bitch face too,” she laughed. “Come down when you’re ready. We’ll save you some ice cream.”
“Thanks,” you said. She shut the bedroom door after herself and you took out a few things from the cabinet along with what you’d brought along. Fifteen minutes later your face was washed and you’d changed into pajamas, a pair of old sweatpants and a free shirt you’d gotten from the brewery. You threw your hair up in a bun and took a deep breath.
You wandered out of the room and down the hall, getting mixed up for a moment before you found the stairs down. Danneel was sitting on the countertop with a bowl in her hand, Jensen busy decorating his own with crumbled up cookies.
“Hey,” he said. He slid the bowl across the counter and stuck a spoon in it. “Prepare to be amazed.”
“Mhm,” you said. You scooped up a spoonful and took a bite, tilting your head. “Is that...whiskey?”
“Just a smidge. That, vanilla ice cream and some cookies on top? So good,” he said as he started to make himself a bowl. “We were away once back in De’s neck of the woods and had it at dinner once. Obviously my version is superior…” he said as he got a whack from Danneel. “It’s a pretty good knock off.”
“Jensen always manages to pick out the best desserts. Meanwhile I always pick the weird ones,” she laughed.
“Oh next time we’re in New York we gotta take her to that hole in the wall place,” said Jensen.
“New York City?” you asked.
“Mhm,” he hummed. You sat up on the counter across from Danneel and sucked on your spoon, Jensen taking a spot near you when he’d finished. “How’d you end up down here. You were in Dallas up until last year weren’t you.”
“Yeah. A couple friends were gonna move down here so I went with them. I thought a new place might be good for me. They turned out to not be great friends so I wound up in an assisted place,” you said.
“Well I’m glad you came,” he said. “You been a lot of places yet?”
“Not really,” you said.
“You ever been to Franklin’s?” asked Danneel. “The barbecue place?”
“I’ve never been out to eat,” you said.
“Ever?” she asked.
“Sometimes we’d sit in McDonald’s,” you said.
“Well we’re definitely going out to dinner tomorrow,” said Jensen. “We can get whatever you like.”
“That sounds good,” you said. You took a few more bites and watched the lights flicker.
“Uh oh,” he said just as the power went out. You stilled as he slid off the counter in the dark. They both moved around as you sat still, a lamp turning on nearby. You jumped and Jensen chuckled. “Ah, there we go. That’s…”
You jumped off the counter when he ran a hand over your head.
“It’s-“
“I don’t like the dark,” you said. You set the bowl down and started to walk around, bumping into him and then Danneel. “I don’t…”
You stepped over to the lamp on the table, taking a seat and a few deep breaths.
“Jay.”
Jensen went off into another part of the house, returning with two more camping lamps. He turned them on and the room got brighter.
“There we go, that’s better isn’t it?” asked Jensen. Danneel brought over your ice cream and you took a deep breath. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just don’t like the dark,” you said. You squeezed your leg and relaxed, Jensen wandering off, returning with a flashlight. He sat it next to you as you picked up your spoon and began eating again. There was a flutter of feet upstairs for a moment and you heard a whimper come from the top of the steps. Danneel got up and went over to the bottom, looking up with a frown.
“How about you sleep in your sister’s room tonight?” she asked as she went up. You finished with your bowl, Jensen leaning back in his chair.
“He’s scared of the dark too,” said Jensen.
“I’m not scared. I said I don’t like it.”
“Alright. It’s not an interrogation,” he said. He ate from his bowl, keeping a side eye on you. “You know we have a security system and protection here.”
“You’re rich, of course you do,” you said. You stared down to an empty hall and he grabbed the flashlight. He clicked it on and pointed it down there. You rolled your eyes and sat back. Jensen set the extra cookies on the table, adding more to his ice cream as you stared down the dark hall again.
“Y/N. There’s nobody here,” he said.
“I know that,” you said.
“It’s okay to be scared of the dark you know.” He popped a cookie in his mouth and you gave him a glare. Thunder cracked and you jumped in your seat. He moved over to the chair next you and you shut your eyes. “Can I give you a hug?”
“What?”
“Is it okay if I give you a hug?” he asked.
“No,” you said.
“Okay.” You got up and flinched when it thundered again. You started to wander around the kitchen, Jensen watching you like a hawk. You found a seat at the counter and stared down the hall, pouting when you heard him get up. “Don’t kick my ass for this.”
“Kick your ass for what?” you said just as he stopped by your seat and wrapped his arms around you. You took a deep breath and he turned you so you weren’t facing the hall. You looked up at him and he smiled.
“Come on,” he said. He pulled you out of your seat and walked over to the couch with an arm around you. You sat down next to him, Jensen pulling a blanket draped over the back onto you.
“Don’t…” you said when he hugged you again. He leaned back and you took a deep breath. He nodded and moved his arms away.
“I think I understand why you don’t like the dark,” he said.
“I just...I don’t know you either.”
“I know but I’m your dad.”
“That doesn’t mean jackshit to me.”
“In my world it does. If you want a hug and me to sit with you while we wait for the power to come back on, that’s up to you.”
“Fine,” you mumbled. You turned to him and groaned. “I said fine, you can hug me.”
“I see you’re just as stubborn as I am sometimes,” he said. He moved closer and pulled you into his side. After a few minutes you relaxed, watching the lightning outside the windows. “Feelin’ better?”
“There was a drug dealer my parents owed money to once. He took me when it was storming one night as collateral. They didn’t pay him back on time but he felt sorry for me or something so he dropped me off at a fire station. I said I ran away.”
“How old were you?”
“Five, six. Somewhere around there,” you said.
“He took you from your house?” asked Jensen.
“I mean, we never lock a door. It was a roof and four walls. I’d barely call it liveable,” you said.
“Did you tell the police?”
“Jensen,” you said, tilting your head up at him. “My parents were big druggies. We didn’t call the cops. That sort of thing just didn’t happen in our environment.”
“Have you ever…” he asked.
“No. I mean...I’ve had a hit or two off a joint before but no, no drugs. I didn’t like the weed that much either to be honest,” you said.
“You said you drink earlier today.”
“Like a beer a night, not even.”
“Just getting to know you...and see that there must have been someone that taught you not to be that way.”
“I had a grandma. She was nice. She was normal. She tried to get custody of me a few times but my parents threatened to stop letting her see me. I guess they weren’t really my parents, were they.”
“No, not really,” he said. He ran his hand over your head and you saw Danneel come back down. She took a seat in the corner with the package of cookies and set a lamp down on the coffee table. “How’s the boy?”
“Tuckered out in lil sis’ bed,” she said. “The battery on his nightlight was dead so he woke up in the dark.”
“Well the dark can be scary. I guarantee at least two of them wind up in bed with us by the time the night’s through.”
You were quiet as they talked about plans for tomorrow, who was going to do what chores, talking amongst themselves about where to take you for dinner. Jensen nudged you and you glanced up, a smile on his face.
“You want to go shopping with De tomorrow?” he asked.
“Sure,” you said. You listened to the rain come down harder and breathed deeply. You tensed up when Jensen shifted but he put his hand back on your head and shushed you. “I’ve kinda always wanted to try brisket.”
“I think we’re getting barbecue for dinner then,” he said. The lights turned back on and you let out a sigh, Jensen rubbing your back as you sat up. “Go ahead and keep one of those lamps and the flashlight in your room in case it happens again.”
“Thanks,” you said as you stood. “I’ll uh, see you guys tomorrow then.
“See you in the morning, Y/N.”
Six Months Later
“Jensen,” you said as you leaned back against the outdoor grill.
“Y/N…” he said as you scooted over more towards the countertop. “Yes honey?”
“Who’s that guy, the young one,” you said as you nodded out to the yard where a few tables were set up, people standing around.
“Baby face over there is Alex. He worked on the last couple seasons of the show with me. I’ve been meaning to have him and the rest of the wacky nutjobs over for awhile now. You’re a big girl, you can say hi to my friends if you want,” he said as he flipped a burger.
“Mhm,” you hummed, looking over your shoulder. You saw him talking to Jared with a beer in his hand. His head turned and he saw you, flashing you a quick smile. You returned it and heard a grunt.
“He’s six years older than you,” said Jensen as he sipped from his can.
“I literally dated a like forty year old last year.”
“Gah, why, why do you tell me things like that, I…” he trailed off when he saw you giggling to yourself. “Okay you little shit, how about this?”
“How about-”
“Hey Alex! Y/N wants to talk to you!” shouted Jensen out to the yard so just about every person there turned in your direction.
“I’m eating your brownie now,” you said. You grabbed the chocolate square off the plate nearby and popped it into your mouth as he put his hands on his hips.
“You’re making me more later, missy,” he said. He ruffled your hair and messed it up just as you caught Alex walk over.
“I am so sorry for him,” you said as you tried to fix the strands.
“You have to live with him. I feel sorry for you,” he laughed. “Alex.”
“Y/N,” you said. You took your beer and walked over towards the pool, Alex smirking to himself. “What? How bad did he mess up my hair?”
“Oh you’re perfect. It’s just nice to have someone to share the pain with,” he said. “He was really excited to find out about you you know. Like obnoxiously excited.”
“He’s alright,” you said with a shrug. You turned and looked back at the grill where he was working, Danneel coming out with Arrow on her hip. “They’ve grown on me. You must be an actor then if you’re at the first annual SPN whatever he and Jared are calling this.”
“They told me free beer and I was sold,” he said. “But yeah, I act. Kinda model every once in a while but that sounds really douchey so I try not to talk about it much.”
“Legit both Jay and De did it so my shock of all things Hollywood has kind of wavered by this point,” you said. “What’s California like? Is it as hot as here?”
“Not as bad. I’m from Canada actually,” he said. “The not too cold part which is nice.”
“I would take a cold day every once in a while,” you said. “How long are you here for?”
“About a week. I was gonna roadtrip down to a place called Galveston one day. Apparently it’s a beach town on the gulf. I thought that’d be fun,” he said.
“We went last month. It was so cool. I’d never been to a beach before or seen the ocean. There’s this place with amazing chili cheese fries. You gotta try them at night when it gets a bit cooler out,” you said. “My dad knows the name. I’ll have to…”
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’ve never called Jensen dad before is all,” you said. You bit your bottom lip and Alex smiled.
“Between you and me, he’s really grateful you guys found each other. He loves you a lot. I know it’s gotta be a thousand kinds of weird but he is really, really proud of you. He brags about you all the time in the group chat.”
“Of course he does. He’s a dork.”
“Oh I one hundred percent agree with that,” he chuckled. He took a sip of his beer and tilted his head. “I know this is like super spur of the moment but would you want to like, go to the beach with me? Some of the guys were gonna come that were sticking around here but if you’re free…”
“I don’t know,” you said as you rubbed the back of your neck. “Like I would totally hang out with you. It’s just like the adult trip, you know? It’s for you guys. Besides I was supposed to watch my siblings that day,” you said.
“Well of course you can come,” said Jensen as he popped up behind you. You flinched and he had two plates with burgers on them, handing you each one. “She loved the beach. Turned into a little kid. She made a sandcastle that-”
“Jensen,” you groaned, your face hot as he cleared his throat.
“We’ll get a sitter. You can ride with Alex,” he said. He patted your back and walked off as you sighed.
“Oh my God,” you said. Alex just laughed as he took a bite of his burger. You knew you were blushing and prayed that he didn’t notice.
“So how’s school?” he asked.
“You see that one up there? That’s Leo,” said Alex, hours and hours later. You were sitting on the edge of the pool with your feet in the water, everyone else hanging out on the other side of the house around the bonfire.
“If I ever take Astrology as an elective I’ll be sure to call you to help me study,” you said. You leaned back on your palms, Alex laughing.
“You’re the one smarter than me,” he said.
“When I apply myself it turns out I actually am,” you said. “Mostly. A business degree isn’t very fascinating though.”
“No but it’s security which I think is really good thing for you.”
“Why?”
“Sounds like you grew up rough was all. It’s not a bad thing to have something solid to fall back on, something safe,” he said.
“This is very true. There is a guy that runs one of the food trucks that comes to the brewery, he keeps trying to convince me to open up a restaurant with him once I get my degree.”
“Do you want to?”
“No but he’s sweet so I try to let him down gently.”
“He your boyfriend?”
“No. Don’t have one,” you said.
“Cool.”
“Was that your subtle way of seeing if I was single?” you asked.
“Seems to have worked,” he smirked. You moved closer and he did the same until you paused. “Sorry. I read this wrong.”
“No, you didn’t. I just...you’re the kind of guy that takes someone out on dates and waits and is slow and nice and...you’re a good guy, right? I can’t deal with a-”
He pecked a soft kiss to your lips, lingering for a moment before he pulled back. He smiled and kicked his feet in the water.
“You’re cute when you blush,” he said. You bumped his arm and he bumped yours back. “You are.”
“Loser,” you said.
“Gonna push you in the ocean for that,” he smirked. He gave your hand a squeeze and pulled his feet out of the water. “Let’s hang out by the fire. It’s getting cold over here anyways.”
“Okay,” you said gently. He pulled you to your feet and you giggled. “I don’t know why I just did that.”
“It’s alright. I like that sound,” he said. He let go of your hand as you got closer to the fire, Alex stopping with you at the table with some leftover desserts still out. “I uh, I’m not perfect...or have a degree...or am tall.”
“Don’t really give a shit about that stuff,” you said.
“Good,” he said. You swiped some cookies for yourselves and found an empty pair of chairs together, the group getting quiet when you sat but Jensen shockingly not using the opportunity to tease you.
“That it?” you asked as you came back inside from taking out a bag of trash a few hours later.
“Yup. Thanks for helping us clean up,” said Jensen. You stretched and headed upstairs, hearing a tut from him along the way. “He’s a good friend. Just go slow, okay?”
“I know,” you said. “Goodnight. Dad.”
“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said with a smile.
___________
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Kiss me quick
Pairing: Spike x Summers!reader
Request: Hi! Can I request a Spike x Summers!reader, where the reader is trying to keep their relationship on the downlow since none of the Scoobies really approve, but after a big win the reader finally kisses him in front of everyone, proving that they do care deeply for one another and everyone just has to accept it.
Requested by: Anon
Warning: Reader gets injured but nothing serious. sex references/implication of sex.
You looked out into dimly lit street, the dark had surrounded you now but ever since you had been meeting this way you couldn’t help but smile whenever the sun began to descend from the sky. You were stood, under a streetlamp, three streets away from your house. Just far enough where nobody from your household would catch you meeting him this way. You had been meeting like this for a while now.
He got a kick out of coming up behind you and immediately pressing you against the nearest wall and crashing his lips to yours. His favourite greeting entailed leaving you breathless and ready to pull him closer no matter what your surroundings were. He often mumbled his hellos through stolen kisses. His passion never died, he was all in. Completely yours.
You couldn’t shake this feeling. That you were completely in love. You had silently tried to fight it to begin with, knowing that those around you wouldn’t approve. That Spike himself may not even reciprocate your feelings. But soon it became clear that there was no hiding these feelings that always bubbled to the surface whenever he was near.
You had started fooling around to begin with, before it all changed. For the better, both of you agreed. Your feelings had taken hold of you both, fuelled by the touch of skin. The depth of mind. Unspoken emotions kept the two of you in a chokehold before you finally spilled your feelings for the other.
Ever since you quit college, you had spent all of your free time sneaking around with Spike. It was, honestly, as thrilling as it was annoying. As much as you wished you could just tell everyone how much you loved Spike - how amazing he was with you, you couldn’t. You had to hide it, the implications of your friends and sisters finding out would be a fate worse than death. In fact, for spike it may mean actual death this time.
Unfortunately, you were the middle child. You were a year younger than Buffy and she never let you forget about it. Meaning, Buffy thought she was the boss of you. Not to mention Dawn basically clung onto your leg to stop you from leaving the house (and thus, preventing you leaving her behind where she couldn’t follow you around). This meant that, often, you didn’t get much spare time for sneaking around with Spike. But, God, did you make it your biggest priority. After… saving the world… obviously.
When you did manage to share these intimate moments, it was everything. It felt as if you were the only people in the world. The only people that had ever felt anything close to this. Nobody had loved this deep. Cared this much. You were both so sure. These feelings, they were eternal. He vowed it to you, one early morning you had spent with your naked bodies pressed together, baring your souls well into the night.
Any emotional scars you harboured seemed to heal just by speaking to him. By having that soothing voice share his own darkest moments with you in return. How that voice, those eyes could have seen and done so much and still make you feel undeniably safe you weren’t sure. But, you trusted him. Even if danger appeared to surround him at every turn. You wouldn’t change him for anything. You loved the good, the bad and the oh-so-attractive parts of him.
Vulnerabilities turned to strengths when you were together. Rough edges appeared smoother. Promises held meaning. You adored him and he confessed to you that he had never been so comfortable in a relationship. He could be himself, could express his feelings without being concerned you would turn away from him.
The first night you invited him into your home made him elated. You had to make him swear not to tell Buffy because you knew she wouldn’t take it well. Like, at all. As much as he would have loved to rub it in the slayer’s face that he had been given access to her house – he loved you too much to even think to upset you in this way. So, you carried on this way, unable to keep your hands and lips from each other for more than an evening at a time. This meant mostly, he stayed at the Summer’s residence or you left to the crypt. Sometimes, you even went for real dates – so long as you were sure that everyone else you knew would be busy elsewhere.
Tonight, you were going to the Bronze together. It was a little more of a risk than usual, but he had insisted on taking you somewhere he knew you would enjoy. Muttered something about not keeping you in the shadows before taking your hand and leading the way. The truth was, Spike was in fact just very smitten with you. And he pretty much wanted everyone to see that you were with him. This was ‘everyone’ except the scoobies and any family members you happened to have crawling out of the woodwork. It was safe though, everyone else was going to some college party and Buffy had told you that it was uncool to have her younger sibling come along.
Buffy was the only one that viewed you as the ‘younger sibling’ the others were friends with you because they were fond of you. Because, well, sometimes you appeared more mature than Buffy did – not that they would ever say that to her face. Although there was always that slight worry that if they hadn’t been friends with Buffy they wouldn’t have been as close with you. You were barely a year younger than Buffy but she was still incredibly protective of you as she was the oldest.
What you hadn’t banked on, whilst you rubbed Spike’s thigh under the table, was that Xander hadn’t been invited to the party. He saw you immediately and made his way over to you with Anya close behind. You almost choked on your drink as you saw them come up behind Spike. You snapped your hand away in shock much to Spike’s displeasure.
“Hey, Y/n-” he started and then stopped when he saw Spike’s presence, “He bothering you?”
“No, he’s just-”
“Warming you up, right pet?” His eyes glistened as he spoke, an eyebrow raising which made Xander scowl. You tried your best to hide the smile at your boyfriend’s words as Xander looked between you both. Xander liked to think of himself as your older brother and had decided you needed defending. You opened your mouth to say otherwise but ended up being cut off by a very urgent ex-vengeance demon.
“It doesn’t matter that they’re dating right now, we are all going to get ripped into pieces if the demon finds us!” Anya shouted. You hadn’t been as secretive as you thought then.
“An!” Xander hissed, sharing a look. At the exact same time you and Spike shared a look too. You wondered who else had seen straight through your sneaking around and longing glances you shared through scooby meetings.
You were sharing looks for different reasons though. They had obviously discussed what not to say beforehand and Anya had characteristically ignored his warning. There was some kind of demon threatening the town. Again.
“What’s going on, Xander? Anya?” you tried for your ex-vengeance demon friend when Xander didn’t speak. There was definitely something odd going on. At her name being called, despite Xander’s warning, she launched into an explanation.
“Xander got annoyed at our sex-spell and ripped a page out of my very rare copy of ‘magic, sex and me’ which ruined our entire evening!” She scowled and crossed her arms before continuing, “Now we have to kill it instead of having our sexy time” she pouted.
“We’ll pretend we didn’t hear about a sex spell-”
“Well, I want to hear about it. Can’t get it up, mate?” Spike taunted which only made Xander redden further after Anya’s admittance. Xander stepped as if to hit your vampire but you stepped in the way and wheeled Xander away, changing the subject.
You asked instead about what this demon was like. Anya explained that it was a Scorn-demon. Ridiculously hard to kill and bound to the pages of a book as no mortal prison can hold it. It looked as if you were in for a long night. Which is exactly what you and Spike had planned although for a very different reason.
“If all of us are looking, we’ll find it quicker” You offered, Xander had been embarrassed to explain because of the reason they were doing a spell. But now Anya had told anyone anyway, he was grateful of the help. You got to your feet, ready to follow them out as Spike got up beside you.
“Looks like no bugger’s getting any tonight” Spike muttered, rolling his eyes as you apparently volunteered you both to assist your friend.
“Just working ourselves up… right?” You offered which made him smirk. God, he had been rubbing off on you. You almost felt yourself mirroring his smirk at your words. He wanted to pull you in and kiss you until you admitted just his presence could get you worked up enough alone, but he knew the importance of hiding this from your friends. Which, really was the only reason he didn’t take you right there in the middle of the Bronze.
Instead, you just trailed behind Xander and Anya’s bickering and tried to locate this demon. You called Buffy’s cell and left a message. You knew this was probably going to end with a battle you were unequipped for. You just hoped that you ran into your sister before you ran into the demon. By all accounts he sounded nasty.
As you walked, you and Spike kept sneaking glances at the other when you hoped the others weren’t looking. It was hard, having to maintain this distance when all you wanted to do was reach for him. Show him your affection freely. When you caught the other’s eye, you couldn’t help but smile. You felt so lucky, to have someone that cared so deeply. Someone who wasn’t afraid to share their love so freely.
You wanted to slide your hand in his, tell him just how lucky you felt. Just how much you felt for him, although you were sure he must be sick of how often you told him you loved him. He never was, of course. It was the sweetest music hearing that phrase from your lips. He kissed them a thousand times just to catch the remaining sweetness from your tongue. With those words, nothing should be wasted. He wanted to savour every syllable of your love.
You kept walking until you had to come to an abrupt halt. Dawn turned a corner and crashed straight into you. Turns out, your hopes came true: you did come across your sister first. It just happened to not be the one you expected.
“Oh, I didn’t know you guys were ready for, like, double dating yet” Dawn teased. She, too, had decided that you and Spike had to be dating. She often brought it up to annoy you but she believed it all the same. Spike never corrected her and you had stopped bothering too. You would only come off as defensive and she would tease you for that. You honestly couldn’t win living under the same roof as Dawn, she could be relentless.
Spike leaned in to whisper something in your ear, his lips so close to your ear you could imagine the way they would feel if he leaned in further and pressed against your skin. You smiled at his comment, he always made you laugh. He liked to hear your laugh and it passed the time while he waited for the fight that was coming.
When you looked back up, Willow and Tara had caught up with your group. They gave you a knowing look at how close you were stood to Spike. You wanted to lean on him, inhale deeply and press kisses against the curve of his neck. You loved the way he gripped you closer when you did that. But you had to snap yourself out of this thought at the arrival of your sister. Buffy immediately started giving orders, not before she gave you a warning look for letting Dawn come with you after she scowled at Spike for his mere presence.
“I brought the research – I think there’s a spell, but we’ll have to weaken him first” Willow muttered, frowning at Anya and blaming her for this spell and putting her best friend in danger.
“The spell needs lovers to complete it. Do you think you could help us Anya? Xander?” Tara asked softly, “But I’m not sure if that’s enough to hold him”
Because the demon was attracted to love and sex, couples were needed to cut off his power at the source. It fed from lovers and by concentrating that power it could reverse and thus weaken the demon within a certain spot.
“Well, if we need couples we have at least three pairs here. Maybe that would be enough?” Willow asked. Making everyone look around to count the pairs. Everyone’s eyes then landed on you and Spike. The last to look was Buffy who raised an eyebrow between you both.
“Does everyone know we’re dating?!”
“Pretty much, sweetie” tara nodded.
“We just didn’t wanna embarrass you. It’s… Spike” Buffy cringed at even the thought of it, “I, uh, thought you would have kinda got it out of your system by now though” Buffy hitched her nose up at the idea of the two of you, but shrugged. She saw it as a meaningless relationship. The kind she had with Parker in her first year of college but more often.
From what you gathered as they didn’t correct her, nobody really thought Spike capable of any kind of meaningful relationship. And with him not being able to actively harm you, they just decided to avoid the topic entirely until one or both of you got bored of the sex. The only one that hadn’t thought anything of your sudden proximity with Spike every time he turned around, was Xander. He really would have said something if he had known. But he still wasn’t convinced now – no matter how often Anya insisted.
You slid your hand into his, now that everybody appeared to know that you were together at least. He smiled at this, looking down at your hands back to your face. This smile, it was softer than he would usually show in front of the Scoobies, it was one only for you. Where he felt such genuine happiness. Such adoration.
As usual, nobody really wanted to discuss your love life (rather just ignore and hope it went away) and so began to look away from you and discuss the demon again. You began following the trail of destruction. He wasn’t so hard to locate really and Buffy immediately attacked him as Willow and Anya set up in a large triangle around the fight. Each couple was at each point of the triangle as the recital occurred. A flash of light surrounded the demon and Buffy before it faded, showing the demon now fighting sluggishly.
You tried to protect Dawn the best you could while Spike and Buffy took it in turns to throw punches at the now marginally weakened demon. You and the others helped when you could but he was so strong even now the spell had worked, that humans barely affected him.
Somehow the demon broke from Spike’s hold and started for Dawn - who he had sensed as the weaker member of your group. You charged in front of your younger sister to try and distract him. This lead to him twisting you and throwing you into the air and crashing into a nearby storefront. You were flung straight against the wall and hit your head quite badly. He watched you falling like a ragdoll, appearing limp due to the blow.
His gut dropped. He left Buffy to the fight. All that mattered now was that you were okay. He had never been so scared. Spike rushed over to you, dropping to the floor so that he could cradle your head in his lap. There were a few seconds where he didn’t know what to do.
But then just as he thought he may have lost you, hope was restored again. You open your eyes, your smile a little dazed as you looked at him from your position in his lap. He looked up to the sky in relief, as if silently thanking the powers. His eyes danced with emotion as he looked back into yours. He wouldn’t know what he would do without you. Couldn’t even imagine it less his heart would begin to ache with phantom loss.
He was so overcome by the thought of losing you that he immediately caught your lips with his. Pouring every single feeling he had ever experienced for you into that one kiss. His hand cupping your cheek, the other on the small of your back – pressing you closer to him. As if this kiss may well be your very last. You reciprocated without hesitation, your lips felt as if they had been moulded just for this very moment. This kiss, it said everything. Promised everything and you smiled into it. Your lips moving against his urgently, insisting he feel your love for him. Even in your weakened state, all of your energy went into kissing him.
In the same moment, Buffy managed to finally slay the beast and Tara and Willow muttered some words that sent him into the book he would now again call home. Buffy whipped around to catch you both kissing so desperately. The rest of the group stopped still and staring too. Every mouth agape in shock. At just how much you appear to feel for the other. This wasn’t just a quick shag when the feeling struck. One wasn’t taking advantage of the other. This was love. The truest kind. And nobody could deny it now, not even Xander.
After you parted, reluctantly on both parts, he took on your weight as you all walked back, everyone except him in silence. He doted on you, pressing a kiss against your temple every few paces – just because he could now in this company. He wanted to offer you all of the comfort he could. He was whispering to you trying to make sure you didn’t fall asleep. He was sure you had a concussion (I mean, you kissed him that way in front of all of your friends without any worries after all).
Buffy didn’t even object when it appeared that Spike was walking their way home. She didn’t know what to think anymore. Everyone could see just how deeply you cared for each other. It was undeniable, even to your older sister.
Spike was just pleased you would make it and be okay. And… he began to get smug that he was finally able to show the slayer that he could access her house this entire time.
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Prompt: Ok so we all know Coco is touch starved, and would be clingy af in a relationship. What about Coco x wife!reader, while she’s trying to do basic errands/chores and Coco is her shadow?
A/N: I’ve been waiting for this one. I really have. Hee hee. I just adore Coco. <3 . This piece sort of follows the story of the last two Coco x Reader pieces I have written, but it will stand-alone, just fine. And, I swear, these things just have a mind of their own. I can continue to apologize for length, and content, but, in the end... I let the story tell itself. ;) . <3 .
As a warning, I come from Vermont, where we have a plastic bag ban. Last I knew, California was the first state to have one. I don’t know how that would translate to Santo Padre, but… When I mention fabric bags, I mean reusables, and the ban is why. ^^;;;;.
Title: Worthwhile
Teaser: He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it.
“Okay…” you murmur, slowly, eyes scanning over the paper in front of you. Fifteen items, nothing crazy. Shouldn’t take you more than an hour, tops, and that includes travel to and from the store. “I think I’ve got everything we need… And, specials included your beer, and those little frozen cream puffs.”
Beside you, Coco groans, deep and guttural. “Fuck, I love those things.”
You giggle, but keep reading. Your man is too damn cute. “Feminine products.”
“Do those count as special?” Coco genuinely sounds thoughtful, as he steps up behind you, where you are leaning over the counter top. He wraps his arms around your waist, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “Kinda’ a necessity, ain’t they?”
Tipping your head, you glance to your husband. Seriously. This man is a treasure. “Why don’t you run for political office?” you tease, pleased when Coco chuckles.
“Yeah, my record’ll look great, on the campaign trail.”
You shrug. “You can tackle pink tax, and tax evasion, at the same time.”
Coco grins, and steals a peck off your lips. “What else you got on there, muñeca?”
“Hmmm, let’s see…” You turn back to your list, tapping the pen against your lips, thoughtfully. Spying the next item on it, you try not to let out another giggle. He’s not going to like this one. “Letty asked if we could have that cauliflower pizza thing for dinner, tonight.”
As expected, this groan is decidedly not from food lust. “Fuckin’ vegetarians. When the hell is she gonna’ get over this shit?”
“It’s just a phase, Coco,” you remind him, for the… Well, honestly, you’ve lost track. It started shortly after the wedding, Letty’s change in diet, and you’re still not convinced the two aren’t related. You’re just not entirely sure how. But, two months in, and she’s still looking healthy, so you won’t send up any alarms. “It’s very popular at her high school, right now.”
Coco scoffs, disgusted. “When the hell’d she start copyin’ other people, anyway? My girl ain’t no follower.”
The words send a shot straight to your heart. He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it. The love he has for Leticia is the greatest proof. They may carry on like cats and dogs, but when push comes to shove, there is nothing they won’t do for one another. My girl. It brings a warmth to your soul, and a smile to your lips.
You shake it off, enough to formulate a response. “She’s figuring out how to be her own woman. Trying new things.” You shrug, not wanting to make a big deal of it. You were Letty’s age, once, of course. And, a girl, to boot. Some things, Coco just won’t be able to understand. “It’s a process.” He hums, still disgruntled, but doesn’t push out another word. “You want anything else?” you ask, holding up your list. “I’ve gotta’ get going, before I run into the football widows.”
Before you can even take a step away, Coco tightens his arms around you. “You sure you gotta’ go, though?” he asks, leaning in to brush his lips against your neck. “With the house all to ourselves, like this?”
“If I don’t go,” you start, as Coco’s touches gain intent, becoming teasing kisses. Damn him. It feels nice, you won’t lie, but there are other things on your mind, right now. Priorities.
You’re just… having trouble remembering what they are.
Oh. Yeah. Shopping.
“If I don’t go, we won’t have anything for dinner.”
Another kiss, accompanied by a barely-there swipe of tongue. You shiver, and Coco moves his lips to your ear. “We can order in,” he whispers, breath so invitingly warm against your skin.
Oh, this asshole.
“And, what are we supposed to have for breakfast, tomorrow?” you try, again. “Half an Eggo, and a pack of Skittles?”
Coco cuddles you closer, again. “Ain’t you never heard about livin’ on love, baby?” Some of his smoothest work, that is. And, it’s almost convincing. Almost. You can imagine the afternoon ahead, if you give in. Your clothes will come off, and won’t be back on until the last second, before Letty walks back through the front door. By that time, you’ll be too tired to roll your ass off the bed, let alone go grocery shopping. And, you promised Letty you’d talk Coco into that cauliflower pizza.
“Great as that sounds,” you agree, preparing to capitalize on the truth. You ease yourself away from Coco’s stubborn hold, and give him one more smooch, just to soften the blow to come. “I don’t think Letty will appreciate the sentiment.”
A third groan. You must be going for a record. “C’mon, (y/n).” Oh, he’s whining. It’s so cute, it’s unreal. “We’ll find some place that delivers that rabbit food shit.”
Unfortunately for Coco, you’re already grabbing your bag. Lucky for you. You’re still two seconds from giving him what he wants. (He just doesn’t need to know so). “I’ll be back in a while.” God willing. “If you think of anything else, call my cell.” You rush out the front door, and don’t look back. If you see the look on your husband’s face, you know you’re as good as done.
*
Well, what the shit? Coco stares at the front door as it closes, you on the wrong fucking side of it. His arms are at his sides, palms turned toward the ceiling. That went so well. He kind of can’t believe you just walked away, like that. Left him alone, and wanting. In your big, empty house.
He probably should have volunteered to tag along, instead of just chasing you off.
Fuck.
Glancing around, Coco tries to find something to do. Something to clean, at the very least. But, that’s the trouble with having moved in with you, after the wedding, he supposes. Ain’t nothing to tidy up. Not that the three of you don’t have possessions. They’re all just in their proper places. Probably Leticia’s doing, in the end. He’d had a long talk with her, before the move, that she absolutely has to keep her shit where it belongs. Your house isn’t like their house. There aren’t burn marks in the carpet, or gouges in the coffee table. Dishes go in the damned dishwasher, not left to pile up on the counter, or in the sink. Beds get made. Laundry gets folded, and put away. No more wrinkled heaps in the clothes basket. So far, the kid’s been doing good. Real good.
Coco, though? He’s never felt so unnerved in his life.
It was different when he just visited. Spent a night or two, here or there. He’d almost felt at home, then, stupid as it sounds. At home, with the knowledge he wasn’t staying. But, now? Now, the reality has settled in, and he feels so-so… out of place. There’s so much he’s struggling to adjust to.
You have a purified water system installed under the sink, where Coco is used to buying bottled water.
You have a dining room, where Coco and Letty are used to eating on the couch.
You have an extended cable package, whatever the fuck that is.
You kind of have it all, here, certainly by comparison to what Coco is used to. The best of everything. Which really makes him wonder – not for the first time – what the hell you’re doing with a dirt-poor biker for a husband? You’ve had this conversation, on multiple occasions, and you’ve explained yourself, every time. But, this time… This time, you’re not around to give that speech. You’re not around to hold him, and kiss his face, and reassure him in a way that only you can. No, you’re at the grocery store, shopping for Coco, and his kid, which was apparently a better offer than staying home with him.
Oh, nope. Nope, he’s doing it, again. He can feel it. You love him, he reminds himself. You’ve got his ring on your finger, his last name, and – God-willing – his baby in your belly. By choice. All by choice.
Coco takes a deep breath, in. Lets it back out, slowly. Tries not to get sick, for all the nerves coming up to greet him. He wraps one arm around his own torso, free hand moving up to cover his mouth.
Fuck, he hopes you get back, soon.
*
You let out a deep sigh, as you park your car in the garage. Oh, it is so good to be home, at long-last. Talk about Old Home Week. You’d run into everyone, and his brother, at the grocery store. Shopping had taken nearly twice as long as you’d meant for it to, and you just know Coco must be losing his mind, by now. You hate to think about it, in such terms, but, sometimes… Well, sometimes, Coco reminds you of a new puppy. You can’t really leave him alone, without some kind of separation anxiety creeping up on him.
Ah, well. At least he isn’t ripping down the drapes, and shredding the couch cushions.
You blink. Well. That you know of.
Shaking your head, you climb out of the car, mentally preparing to unload armloads of bags. Maybe, if you really, really try, today will be the day you can finally get all twenty bags in, in one trip.
Right. And, shortly thereafter, you can have both forearms set, and casted. Be a real turn-on, in the bedroom.
You’ve managed to grab half a dozen bags, when the door to the mud room opens. “Hey, don’t grab too many!” Letty warns, as she comes hopping down the steps. “Let us help!”
Glancing up, you smile. For having had such a rough start, Letty can be a sweet girl. You know she gets that from her father. “Well, thank you,” you reply, resting a few, fabric handles onto her outstretched hands.
Letty grins, lowering her hands to her sides, before leaning in. “Did you talk him into it?” she whispers, conspiratorially.
You snicker, and whisper back, “He isn’t getting a choice. He’s outnumbered.”
“Yes!” Her hiss of victory is hardly subtle, catching Coco’s attention as he pokes his head out the door.
“You two plottin’ against me, again?”
“Yes,” you and Letty reply, in unison, leading you to erupt into a fit of giggles.
Coco is all grins. “’Course, you are.” He strides closer, he and Letty dancing around one another as she moves into the house. You lean into the car, and retrieve a few more bags. If Coco’s out here, he might as well assist. He’s peering into the car, once you stand back up, and lets out a low whistle. “Damn, (y/n)! You buy out the whole store, or what?”
“Hardly,” you reply, dryly. You hold up your hands, offering Coco the bags. “Here you go.”
“Oh, don’t mind if I do.” Thankfully, your hold on the bags is solid. Instead of grabbing the groceries, Coco’s hands are suddenly groping all over you. One hand is settled firmly at your ass, the other sliding into your hair, at the back of your head. He wastes no time diving in for a slow, deep kiss, and, damn, does his timing suck. He could have at least let you put the bags down, first. The contact makes you tingle, and has you regretting your decision not to stay home. Coco pulls back, after a few seconds, and hums. “Mm. Best delivery ever.”
You can’t help the small snort of amused laughter that leaves your throat. “Good try, Coco,” you praise, easing back far enough to offer him the bags, again. The look of disappointment on his face is just pitiful. “I’m not banging you in the garage.”
He has the grace to mock gasp. “I’d never!” It’s a crock, and you both know it. He looks too amused to be repentant, and you look too aware to be angry. You just raise your hands, slightly, in a third offer. Coco sighs. “All right. All right.” He takes the bags from your hands.
“Thank you.” You grab another load for yourself, rounding the open car door to follow Coco’s lead, into the house. One more trip for each of you, and you should have it covered. So much for only buying fifteen items.
Coco might be right about buying out the store.
*
Watching from the dining room, Coco has a good view of you and Letty unpacking the last of the groceries. Damn kid, she’d thrown him out, about ten minutes prior.
“Less groping, more helping, Coco,” Letty had warned him, after he’d tried to pin you against the sink.
It had been his last warning. Now, he’s been banished. Not the worst thing in the world, not really. Over the last few weeks, he’s really learned that there are some tasks he’s not so fond of. Pruning roses… Yeah, he’s pretty sure you’ll never let him do that, again. And, hey, nobody told him what to fill the bird feeder with. Unpacking groceries goes on that list, somewhere between line-drying laundry, and a streak-free mirror. He’s not sure why. Goodness knows, it makes him feel like a kid at Christmas, most times. Since being with you, though…
Since being with you, he feels like he’s taking advantage of something.
Yes, groceries are a strange place to let that feeling land, but he can’t help it. Coco’s been responsible for feeding himself since before he cares to remember. The only time anyone provided his meals was during deployment, and half that shit barely passed for edible. You, though… You keep the house stocked with more food than he’s seen anywhere, outside of a corner market. Letty always has options to take to school, and there’s a nutritious dinner on the table, almost every night. (Some nights, he actually does win the battle for delivery). If Coco goes on a run, you send him along with snacks for the road. And, yeah, he kinda’ likes that. He also likes the energy bars you picked out for him, last week. Something with cherries, and dark chocolate. He wonders, for a second, if you picked up any more. Come in handy during his mid-week trip outta’ town.
Coco blinks. Then, he does it again, just for good measure. That’s it. That’s what’s so fucking weird about this whole thing.
It’s you.
Okay, no, it’s not you, you. But, it’s you. It’s you, taking care of him. It’s you, seeing to his needs. Letty’s needs. It’s you, being his wife, his partner. It’s you, slotting into the place of role-model for his teenaged daughter. Welcoming them into your home. Not treating it like it’s your home. It’s you, being so fucking perfect for him, it’s taken his mind all this time to catch up with reality.
Coco doesn’t get perfect. Perfect doesn’t want him.
Except, now, it does.
Before he knows what he’s doing, Coco strides into the kitchen. He doesn’t wait for you to put the box of pasta in the cupboard. He just takes it from your hand, ignoring your confused look, as he tosses it onto the counter.
“Coco!” Letty admonishes, but it’s no use. He’s already lifting you off the floor, arms around your perfect backside. The kid gives a long-suffering sigh, he hears it, but pays it no mind.
Nothing – nothing – is going to keep him from holding you in his arms.
Your own arms go around Coco’s neck, and you smile down at him, surprise still lingering in your eyes. “Uhm… Hi, there.”
Coco grins. “Hey, muñeca.” Leaning up, he pecks you on the lips.
“Can I help you with something?” you ask, to which Coco shakes his head. Closes his eyes, as your fingers play in his hair.
“Nah. Got all I need.”
*
Pulling a package of mixed vegetables from the half-unpacked shopping bag, Letty rolls her eyes. You two… God, you’re gross. Coco always has his hands on you, no matter what you’re trying to do. It’s a wonder you don’t carry a damned fly swatter around. Actually, it’s a wonder you ever accomplish anything. He’s always smooching, and smiling, and snuggling at you. It’s disgusting. It’s pathetic.
It’s so damned cute, it’s sickening.
Really, Letty’s enjoying seeing Coco so happy. Like, genuinely happy. Not the false pride he carries around with his kutte. He’s more relaxed, nowadays. He drinks less, and he spends more time at home, both of which mean he’s not hanging around with those skanks at the clubhouse. He eats more, he’s healthier… Nothing to complain about, there.
And, hey, she has no complaints about you, either. You’re pretty cool, all-around. A woman who takes care of herself, and her family, and doesn’t bitch about either one. You’re not using Coco for money, or status, none of the shit she’s always been worried her father would fall into. There aren’t arguments, every night, not even between herself and Coco, as of late. No hostilities, nothing to avoid the house over. Just good dinners, and movies, and a new fish tank in her room. (Okay, so, you’d earned some major points with that birthday gift. She hadn’t actually expected to get one, when she’d mentioned it). For the first time, she understands what a peaceful, happy family feels like. It feels nice. It feels like home.
Glancing back to where Coco now has you perched on the counter top, stealing the most syrupy-sweet smooches… Letty can’t help but smile. Home is A-okay by her.
*
The sound of the air conditioner humming in the bedroom usually lulls you right to sleep. Tonight, it’s just providing you with white noise, a low background track to your thoughts. You don’t mind, not really. It gives you a few minutes to reflect on the day that’s just ended. To plan your day, tomorrow. To weave your fingers through Coco’s hair, and listen to him breathe. That, alone, makes it worthwhile.
Coco has been asleep against your shoulder for nearly an hour, now. Your arms are wrapped around him, comfortably, his own around your waist. You’d urged him up to bed, after he’d fallen asleep on the couch, his head in your lap. He’d snoozed from the middle of the movie, to the end of the nightly news report. Letty had tsked, and complained that no one had any business, whatsoever, in falling asleep during Zombieland. (How he’d stayed asleep was still a wonder to you, both, for how hard you’d been laughing at Tallahassee). With your fingers in his hair, Coco had been blissfully unaware for a couple of hours.
Glancing down, you take in the sight of your husband’s sleeping face. He looks so damn peaceful, the kind you’d outright murder to preserve for him. Coco’s still struggling with sleep, and relaxation, even though you’d hoped it would ease up, once your nuptials had passed. Most of it, you know will never go away. Anxiety doesn’t have a magic wand, or some perfect little on/off switch. And, all things considered, today wasn’t a terrible day. You’d been able to leave the house, with minimal panic on Coco’s part. Granted, it had taken extra time to get the groceries put away, and dinner made, but… You understand, as much as you are able to, that Coco needs the reassurances. It doesn’t cost you anything to carve a few moments from the day, every here and there, to give him what he needs.
Okay, so it did cost you that first batch of pancakes, this morning. They’d burned on the stove, and set off the smoke alarms, when he’d insisted on a dance through the living room. But, Coco loved the song you’d been playing on your Spotify, so there was really no denying him.
Oh, and… Yeah, you’d missed that phone call from the bank, the week before. Your husband had slipped up next to you, on the porch swing, and snuggled you to within an inch of your life. An easy fix, and you still got the business loan, but…
And, sure, you’ve been late to work, on numerous occasions. Coco has a habit of sneaking into your morning shower. And, after that… Well, hell, you own the company. It’s not like you have to explain to the boss that you’re late to your shift, on account of baby-dancing. (Fucking forums).
Point is, you’re more than happy to take care of Coco’s emotional needs. It may take you an extra hour to pay your bills. Daily tidying may have become every-other-day-if-you’re-lucky tidying. And, your ass may have gone numb, tonight, while he slept on your thigh. During which time, you could have loaded the dishwasher. Taken out the trash. Any number of tasks that have been neglected, in the name of Coco. They can wait.
Leaning in, you press a tender kiss to your husband’s forehead, before settling back in, and closing your eyes. Yes, chores can wait. Work can wait. The whole world can hold it, with both hands. So long as you’re around, Coco’s well-being will never have to take the back seat.
*
P.S. If Coco denies it, he’s full of it. He fucking loved that cauliflower pizza. Fucking vegetarians, indeed.
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