Random Things I Write

Writer Please request fanfic ideas! :) 20 y/o

[enormities-writes]

Welcome To My Blog!

Call me whatever you want name-wise, I don't mind - I could care less about what pronouns you use for me - Pan - Hufflepuff - ENFP -

- About my Blog -

Hi everyone! I really wanted there to be an account that works on characters who have little to no other fics about them. That being said, I've never written fanfiction before so I'll probably be shit lol.

What inspired me to create this page was honestly because of the lack of WLW and MLM as well as few specific characters that don't have any fics about them.

That's it, thank you so much to the people who have read this far and please bear with me.

Requests open!! <3

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[enormities-writes]

I’m sorry but I just clicked on someone’s profile and an ad popped up on my screen??? Excuse me? Wtf

[enormities-writes]

I’m so gay for Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt in Mr. And Mrs. Smith. They’re just so hiebfucons 😩

I won’t be speaking on real life situations with them two for obvious reasons, however they are so HOT in that movie.

Would you guy be down for a fic with them or are you not interested? Also, I’ve never made a poly fic before so would you want one or the other, or both? 😏 I obviously have a preference but I wouldn’t mind either way!

Also, if you would like a specific gender for the reader to be, please comment that below!

Sign up for my tag list while you’re at it :)

Would you read a Mr. And Mrs. Smith fic?

Yes (with just John)

Yes (with just Jane)

Yes (both)

No

Voting ended onJan 29

Here is the link!

[enormities-writes]

May or may not have done it hehe

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[enormities-writes]

Therapy | Mr. and Mrs. Smith x GN!Reader

Summary: The average day with your husband and wife.

Warnings: Cursing, rocky relationship, throuple tehe, probably ooc, not proof read, suggestive language I guess at one point?

Words: 2.1k

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Please do not copy or translate any of my work. Thank you! ---------------------------

The almost clinical smell of their lavender mister fills your nose, the dark of the wood paneling on the walls creating a sleek, welcoming atmosphere. You take a deep breath, the lavender air cooling your lungs and calming your nerves.

“See, Jane and I have been married five years. And we’ve been married to-”

“Six.” Jane's smile doesn't falter as she looks into the eyes of Dr.

John sighs softly, almost imperceptively as his hand just slightly tightens on the arm of the rough gray chair, a smile still plastered on his face despite his emotions just barely showing through.

“Five, six years. And we've been with them for 4 and a half years.” His light blue eyes flick over to you in your chair placed in the middle of theirs. “This is like.. A checkup for us. Um, a chance to poke around the engine. Maybe change the oil, replace a seal or two.”

Jane swallows. “Yeah.” She plays with her hands, a habit of hers when she's nervous and trying to mask it. Your hand easily comes to sit atop her digits, sweeping a gentle thumb over her fingers, the metal on her ring finger warming under your touch.

“Really, everything's fine. We just need a little guidance.” The words slip from your lips as you sit back in your chair, catching when your wife and husband's attention is averted over to you for a second, smiles on their lips. Their eyes twinkle with adoration before turning back to the therapist, nonchalant masks slipping back into place.

The conversation stills, the doctor's gaze flicking down to something he wrote down in his notebook earlier before looking back up. “Very well then. Let’s pop the hood.”

“On a scale of one to ten how happy are you together?”

“Nine and a half.” “Nine.” The words come out of yours and Jane's mouths without any hesitation under your words. John stalls.

“Wait.” You and your wife turn your heads over to look at him. As she turns, her jaw sets and she sighs, the exhale just a bit too sharp to be anything other than annoyed. Her shoulders tense with her action as she tries to calm herself. 

“Ten being perfectly happy and one being totally miserable? And how happy all together or individually? Or..” John trails off.

“Just respond instinctively.”

“Okay. Ready?” He directs the question to us.

“Mhm.” “Ready.”

“Eight.” “Eight.” “Nine.” Your brows furrow and you look over to your spouses, but their attention is solely on the Dr.. His eyes look at all three of you before nodding and jotting something down in his notebook, the pen lightly scratching at the small pages of paper.

“How often do you have sex?”

The question is blatant and leaves no room for interpretation. Laid out on the table. And so, when you hear how Jane's answer differs from yours, confusion swirls around in your head. You knew they had their problems but you thought it wasn't like this. You were perfectly happy. More than happy.

“Often.”

Silence. “I don't understand the question.” Your wife says. 

“Yeah, I’m lost. Is this a one to ten thing?” 

Your palm cools around the sleek glass of cool water sitting on the table. Condensation moistens the outside, wetting your palm as the ice cubes clink against the inner rim. You take a sip, trying to keep yourself occupied with something.

“Like is one very little or is one nothing? Because, you know, technically speaking, the zero would be nothing. And are we answering like when we’re all together or just two of us or..”

You set the glass down, it clinking against the circular ceramic coaster sitting on the varnished wooden table. You settle back in your chair, adjusting your sweater, the fibers hugging the tips of your fingers.

“That’s right. And if we don’t know what one is- What's ten?”

“Yeah, ‘cause 10, you know,”

“Yeah, I think he gets it. Please, give.. Clarification.” You cut through their rambling, the cheeks of your face feeling slightly warm.

“Well, you’ve already given your answer. How about you, Jane? John? How often do just the two of you have sex?”

The silence is louder than anything they could have said. His words hang in the air, anticipating some type of response.

“How about this week?”

..

“Including the weekend?” “Sure.”

…

The quiet settles in your bones. The hesitation and the admission of something unsaid, the confirmation that things are more dire than initially stated.

Never once did you ever think- they kiss and smile at each other every day. Not to mention you are beyond happy. Just the sight of them brings a warmth to your chest, a feeling indescribable other than the word infatuation.

They never told you they weren't happy or whatever was going on here. The two people you love more than anything on Earth, the people who are your home, aren't each others.

“Really? You guys never told me- I mean I thought we all.. I have sex with you all the time. I didn’t know you weren't..”

Summery light streams in through white curtains covering large windows, the faint scent of linens and something uniquely Jane fills your nostrils as your eyelids flutter open. 

Warm air caresses your shoulder in long breaths. Brown silky hair frames Jane's face from where she lays hugging you. Her arm lays over your waist, yearning to be near you even in sleep. 

You look down, her long eyelashes laying over the soft curve of her cheek. Her face is devoid of any wrinkle or crease, and the line of her shoulders slouched and relaxed into you. 

She's so beautiful like this. A natural beauty that you have trouble even comprehending sometimes. Truly breathtaking, and even better as the first sight you see after waking up and dreaming of her and your shared husband.

A hum comes from her throat, a smirk stretching across her plump lips, your first and only sign that she wasn't sleeping. “Finally awake?”

You huff a laugh and press a soft, chaste kiss to her forehead. “Mhm.”

She finally opens her eyes, the blue of them taking your breath away. Like the sky on a sunny day, a bright blue lake rippling under the sun's rays. “Goodmorning, love.” “Morning, sweetheart.”

The soft blankets shift on your skin as she leans in and presses her lips to yours, the warmth of it making the moment all the more sickly sweet. You two meld together and she moves just enough to ghost her tongue across the seam of your lips.

The touch of her palm travels to your cheek. She lets it move and tangles her fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck.

It’s like she wants to be as close to you as possible, content with just laying here and letting you caress each other. She hums against your lips, the vibration welcoming.

It's deep, and content, and perfect. You let your teeth just barely brush her bottom lip as she pulls away.

She sighs against you before moving to sit up. You whine, immediately wrapping your arms tighter around her. She laughs in surprise, her body pressed snugly to yours. “What? I have to get up. I have work, honey.”

“What? And leave me? You get to leave as I sit in this big house all by myself missing you all day?” You give your best imitation of puppy eyes at her, your bottom lip pouting just so. The sight makes you look all the more kissable in her eyes. The smile on her lips light up her eyes, her cheeks perking up round with her delight. “No! Well maybe. But you can read or write or draw to your hearts content until I come home. And when I do, we can cook dinner together and bathe and do.. other activities to each other."

“...Well I can’t pass that up when you put it that way.” “That’s what I thought.” 

Her smile quirks up on one side, the glint in her eyes morphing and becoming sharper, contentment in her gaze.

She moves to get up and you begrudgingly let her, your arms loosening slipping from her skin, letting them dramatically plop onto the bed.

“Do you think John’s made coffee yet?”

The smile on her lips sobers a bit at your question but she tries to keep the smile for your sake, a mask you know all too well slipping back into place.

“Probably. I’ll get you a mug.” She slips her baby pink silk robe over her shoulders as she walks through the room, tying it into place. Her footsteps fade as she walks out of the room and down the hall. You try to steal just a few more minutes to face the day.

You let your eyelids slide close, not sleeping, just basking in the warm rays of the bright sun.

You hear the footsteps of someone entering the room, they walk across the hard wood in a lazy stride. “Thought you might still be in here.” 

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth when a large hand cups your cheek. You let your eyes open as your husband lovingly looks down at you. 

“Gonna lay here all day?” “Don’ know. Still debating i-”

Your words are cut off as he puts his hands on your thighs, pulling you down the bed as he plops down on it to position himself between your legs.

“Jesus-”

He leans down in the midst of your surprise, dramatically making a growling sound as he buries his head in the crease of your neck. You squirm and try to pull away, shocked laughter being punched from you as his barely-there stubble scratches your skin.

Johns fingers dig at your sides, finding places you didn't know you have as cackles force their way from your lungs.

He pulls back swiftly, a large smile stretching his lips. You both pant for a second.

“What the fuck? You’re using your powers for evil, you know that right? You’re lucky I love you so much.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You like it.” He leans his body over yours, resting his left elbow down by your head, using his other hand to cup your jaw in his hand.

He gives you a kiss, gooey and quick. Your lips smack in protest when he pulls back just enough to mumble into your lips.

“You have to get up-” kiss “at some point, honey.” smack “You do know that right?” He backs up a little more, mischievous eyes looking into yours.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” You throw his words back at him. He rolls his eyes, backing up to sit on his knees overtop the plush bedspread, pulling on your arms to pull you up with him.

“Go brush your teeth. You have morning breath." He gets up, his white robe lazily opening at his movement. He starts to walk across the room, his socks and the rugs Jane picked out laying flush on the floor softening the sound of his steps on the hardwood.

“Oh shut up.” You lug yourself out of bed, slipping on the slippers they got you with the fluffy lining as John slips through the doorway to the master bathroom, disappearing from your vision.

That morning was filled with tense words and short answers, the silent aggression louder than any quiet. They talked but it was all unaffectionate, like speaking to a distant relative. No “I love you”s, barely even touching each other. All disguised by smiles and the illusion of being a happily married couple. Well, that all was between John and Jane. With you, they acted completely differently.

They put warm hands over your waist, smiles and soft eyes. With you, they were almost completely different people. And, of course, with you around they tried to be more civil and warm to each other, even though it was just imitation. Maybe they didn't even realize it was fake. Maybe the lines just started to blur along the way.

Jane and John loved each other. They really did, and wanted the other to be happy. They said pet names and gave the other smiles, but it wasn't the same as how they treated you. Sometimes, there was a bite underlying their words.

Their looks turned into glares at a moment's notice. Words turned to venom on their tongues. They had no guilt for lying about their lives to each other. But with you? They felt a pit in their stomach and minds, telling lies was ripping you apart. Everything you knew about them was a lie. 

But they wanted to keep you safe. And nothing would come between that.

[darlingsblackbook]

⚠️ I took a look at my settings and noticed something. Please check your too! ⚠️

THERE IS A SETTING YOU HAVE TO TURN OFF! OTHERWISE YOUR GIVING PERMISSION TO TUMBLR TO SHARE YOUR ORIGINAL CONTENT WITH THIRD-PARTIES INCLUDING THOSE WHO TRAIN AI!!!

⚠️ REBLOG this so others can check their settings. I don't know of this is something new or has been here for some time, I only noticed it just now. Share this so others who might not know about this see it too ⚠️

Also before anyone comes at me for using these tags, I am tagging x readers so other fanfic writers will see this too.

[enormities-writes]

When you so badly wanna post a fic for Valentine’s Day but you work every day of the week

[enormities-writes]

Did u drew your profile pic?? If not, may I ask where did u get it from??

I did not draw my pfp! That would be cool but unfortunately I did not lol. I got it from Pinterest!

Here is the link: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/12455336471396353/

Pin by ~`ジェラルディン ~` on Pines creados por ti | Funky art, Punk character art, Celestial art

Nov 23, 2025 - This Pin was discovered by ~`ジェラルディン ~`. Discover (and save!) your own Pins on Pinterest

[yasministration]

until the nineties - robin buckley

set in s3, hopper!reader summary: there's one lucky thing about you and robin being a lesbian couple in the eighties - you don't have to keep your door open three inches. wc: 2.3k+ cw: sensitive themes (talk of homophobia & same sex couples in the 80's) but it's all in a positive way! suggestive themes - heated moment. a/n: this fic means so much to me so treat her kindly

With your father’s presence comes the slam of a door. You’ve been conditioned to associate him with the sound, so when the front door slams open, Robin immediately puts a few inches of space between your faces. Her lips no longer brush yours as she flirts with you quietly, her hand slipping from your waist so she can rest her second arm on the mattress. You glimpse up to the mirror at the other end of your bed and nod to yourself approvingly. In the reflection, you don’t see a pair of lovers, but good friends.

Another door bangs against a wall, and you scoff in amusement as you hear your dad begin yelling before cutting himself off. Robin squeezes your hand which grips the corner of the magazine’s page, but she quickly lets go, moving it away a safe distance. Her soft touch averts your attention back to the magazine — something that had lost your focus many minutes ago, when Robin had decided to press the first kiss to your jaw.

“So I take it you prefer the plaid over the floral?” You mumble, a single manicured nail tracing over the advertised bikinis. “Yeah, I like the funky patterns.” Both your eyes flit up towards the end of Robin’s sentence as the door eases open. Jim Hopper’s gaze is sceptical, but his shoulders slump in relief at the sight of you and Robin, innocently laying on your stomachs on your bed, flicking through a magazine.

“It’s like a time machine in here.” Your dad starts, hand still on the doorknob as he looks back and forth between your room and El’s, where she and Max are in the same position, except on the floor. And also, very much just friends. “Both of you girls with your friends, no boys around.” He leaves the second part silent, but it’s clear that he thinks about how for the first time in years, he doesn’t have to worry about either of his girls and their boyfriends. He nods approvingly before slowly closing the door, and for a moment you just stare at the dark oak, contemplating getting up to lock the door behind him.

Robin slings an arm over your waist, ducking her face next to yours and muttering “You know how I like fun patterns on you.”

“Robs, you just like fun patterns.”

She brings a hand up, resting her chin on it and looking into the corner of the room, thinking deeply. “Well, yeah, exactly. That’s why I like them on you. You make things I already like a hundred times better because they’re combined with you.” Your chest swells with adoration at your girlfriend’s words, and you lean in close to press your lips to hers despite the unlocked door. “I love you.” You whisper quietly, and she echoes the words back to you without a moment’s hesitation.

Pushing the magazine away from you, you roll onto your side, resting your head on a propped up hand. Robin’s gaze drops down to where your shirt rides up, exposing a sliver of your abdomen, and she lets her fingers wander there, tracing absentminded shapes onto your skin. “So you’ll get the bikini?” She asks hopefully, eyes trailing up your body to finally land on your face. “Yeah, I probably will.”

The grin that makes its way onto her face is slow and hard for her to fight off, so she lets it conquer, flashing it in your direction. She leans in close to you, but just before she can kiss you, you interrupt her. “Robin, go lock the door.” She flies off the bed in such an eager manner it makes you giggle to yourself, but Robin winces as she turns the lock, hoping its click doesn’t alert your police chief of a dad. She tiptoes back to the bed, climbing onto the mattress so close to you that she layers her body above yours, intertwining your legs together.

Shimmying onto your back, you smile up at your girlfriend, a chill running up your spine when she runs her fingertips up the side of your neck. Robin leans down, pressing a long and teasing kiss just underneath her fingertips, and you can feel the way her lips quirk up into a smile against your neck when your back arches off the mattress. She laughs to herself when your fingers sew into her hair, pulling her head up and closer to your face.

“Kiss me, Robin.” You plead, eyes flickering down to her lips. You admire the moment her tongue jots out to lick her lips, but don’t have time to process the fact that she’s already leaning down to kiss you with an obedient “Yes ma’am.”

She moans when your fingers scratch at her scalp, but she tilts her head and slackens her jaw to deepen the kiss nonetheless, her lips parting. Your fingers tighten around her golden locks when her tongue finally meets yours, and you hum in satisfaction, pushing her closer to you by the back of her head.

Robin leans most of her weight on her right arm, letting her free hand trail up your body. When she finds the edge of your jeans, she grips the denim fabric in her hands, fingers expertly working to unbutton them. She doesn’t bother undoing the zip, only slipping her hand under your jeans and down your panties. You let out a sharp breath at her cold touch, hand flying to grip her wrist, stopping her movements. She pulls back from the kiss with a wet string of saliva connecting your lips to hers, a silent question lingering on her lips.

“Risky.” You breathe out, and she nods, an unwavering look of content on her features. “What?” You laugh at her lack of response, a hand tightly clutching the fabric of her t-shirt. “Not if you can be quiet.”

She laughs even as you push her head back down into the kiss, tongue immediately tangling with yours, muffling her sounds into mere moans. Her fingers wiggle beneath your underwear, and you loosen your hold on her wrist to let her do as she pleases to you. She trails her hand down, lips suddenly breaking from the kiss so she can avert attention to your neck instead. “No, Robin!” You gasp, twitching away from her mouth. “You know you can’t leave any marks!” She leaves her lips on your neck, letting her head drop down so her forehead rests onto the mattress as she grumbles disappointedly.

“Let me break the rules just one time.” She murmurs, voice laced with dismay. You gently push at her chest, and she instantly rolls off you, letting you swing a leg over her hips to straddle her. She pouts underneath you, hands coming to cross over her chest, but you pull them down, tilting your head at her in question. “No, don’t be upset Robs.”

Robin shrugs, huffing to further showcase her emotions to you. You lean down, pressing your lips to hers once, then quickly again before moving to press kisses onto each of her cheeks. Her cheeks tense under your kisses as she breaks into an unwilling smile, but her hands come up to grip yours hips anyway. “I’ll let you leave marks sometime, okay? Somewhere my dad won’t see, when literally any other person could be the suspect, okay?”

Robin groans, throwing her head back onto the mattress and squinting her eyes as though deep in thought. Then, she shrugs her shoulders, one hand shooting up to cup the nape of your neck and harshly pulling you down, slamming your lips down onto hers. It’s a violent kiss, one that all teeth and tongue, and Robin easily flips your positions back around, hands working to push your shirt up. “But for now, somewhere he won’t see.” She tells you, one hand snaking underneath your back and unclasping your bra.

Her mouth immediately meets your breast, lips wrapping around your nipple, and your hand returns to your girlfriend’s hair, biting down on your bottom lip to avoid making any sound.

“Rob-”

“Hey, what do you girls want for dinner!?”

Robin jerks up away from you at the sound of your dad’s voice on the other side of the door as he knocks loudly, and you scramble up to clasp your bra again and pull your shirt down. For extra measure, you pull the closest hoodie to you over your head before opening the door and facing your dad. El and Max stand in the living room, and El stares at you for a long moment before turning to look at Jim. She pokes him in the side, whispering “Ask her.”

“These two want pizza, that okay with you and Robin?” He asks you with a sigh, and you nod. “Alright, the four of you take care, I’ll order the pizzas for you and go, I have something to do. You’re in charge, hon, alright?” You nod again, pocketing the money he hands you.

Robin comes out of your room just as Jim shrugs his jacket on, and the four of you watch as he leaves. “Should we watch something?” You ask when the door shuts, watching as Robin slumps down on the couch in front of the television. El and Max stare at you for a long moment, and you gesture your hands as to ask what’s going on.

“I didn’t know girls could kiss each other like girls and boys do.” The gasp flies from your lips before you can prevent it, and Robin’s head snaps towards your sister so fact that her neck might have snapped. “El… Where did you - what do you mean?”

“El spied on you and saw you and Robin kissing.” Max clarifies with a shrug of her shoulders, moving slowly to sit in your dad’s armchair.

“El, I thought we agreed you wouldn’t do that.” You gulp, unable to think of anything else to say. Robin stands, turning around to face you, panic written all over her face. The living room is silent for a long and uncomfortable moment as your brain races to find a solution. “Okay, El sit down. Max, next to her on the couch.” You demand, bringing a hand up to your mouth so you can bite at your thumb nail anxiously. The younger girls scatter to sit on the couch in front of the television, nervously glancing at each other before looking back up at you and Robin.

“Are you girlfriend-girlfriend?” El asks, and you freeze, shooting Robin a side glance. She shrugs, and you decide in that moment to be truthful, so you turn back to your sister and nod. “But it’s really important that you don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Because dad would get mad that you keep your door closed?” El hypothesises, and despite the laugh that wants to escape you, you shake your head. “No, El. Look, a lot of people - most people aren’t open to the idea of two girls or two boys being partners. You know, it could really get us in trouble.” You crouch down in front of El and Max, though your gaze doesn’t move away from your younger sister’s face. “Does that bother you, El? That Robin and I are together?”

El shakes her head, looking back at Robin and smiling softly. “I like Robin. She gives me free ice cream sometimes. And she is funny. And you spend all your time with her so I know she is a good person.” You nod in relief, moving your attention to Max. “What about you, Max?”

“No, I think it’s cool. I sometimes hear people talk about couples like you but I didn’t think they actually existed.” Robin chuckles at Max’s words, then looks at you. She notes the stress on your face and brings a hand up to rub your back, furrowing her eyebrows when you flinch on instinct. “You really can’t tell anyone.” Robin echoes your previous words, taking her hand off you and looking at the younger girls with the most serious face she can muster.

“Why don’t people like when two girls or boys go out?” Max finally asks, looking between you. Robin brings her shoulders up to her ears, holding them there for a moment before letting them drop low in a sad shrug as she kneels down beside you. “I wish I knew, Max.” She offers, sighing deeply. She glances towards you, hesitantly extending her arms out to propose a hug. You let yourself fall into her arms, bringing your hands up to hide your face as you whine anxiously, crying “Fuck, we messed up Rob!” Robin tightens her hold on you, caressing your back in slow circles.

“I’m sorry I spied.” Apologises El, eyes clouding with distress. “Will you two promise not to tell anyone? And I mean anyone at all, in the whole world.” Asks Robin, keeping you close to her.

“Promise.” They echo in unison.

“And when the pizza comes, you can pay.” Robin decides as punishment with a sense of finality in her tone of voice. Both Max and El’s heads snap towards you, panic etched onto their faces. Digging your face out of the crook of Robin’s neck, you glimpse at the younger girls, laughing quietly at their expressions. “Can spy through people’s minds but can’t pay for pizza.” You scoff, staring at them longly.

“This is serious, you get that right?” You emphasise one last time, deeply exhaling when they both nod again. “Robin, let me speak to you in private for a moment.” Robin follows you back into your room, standing by the closed door for a long moment in utter silence. At the sight your stillness, she walks towards you, spinning you around and walking you back to the door until you’re pressed up against it. She takes a minute to look at you, then presses her lips against yours in a passionate kiss that has you melting in her arms.

“And here I thought Steve was going to be the only person to know until at least the nineties.” You mumble against her lips, feeling her chest rumble with a silent laugh. She pats your thigh twice at the sound of the doorbell, muttering “Yeah, like any of us will still be alive by the nineties.”

taglist: @bxuzi, @rory-cakes, @dlljdhsh, @aouoo, @fandomhoe101, @sharkers00, @joonbread, @paankhaleyaaar, @bearymuchso, @princesstiti14, @challengers4ev, @selenewowww, @lunavelha, @iceyyhyeji, @doiki3, @maymo0, @daisylove3, @ballylagginblues, @cosm1cpiink, @laufeysvalentine, @eyantice, @cheetoscmj

[enormities-writes]

I know I don’t usually repost fics but omg this is so good, I had to

[enormities-writes]

Goodbye | Lemon and Tangerine x GN! Reader Part 2

Summary: Lemon drives home to you since losing his brother.

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of violence and blood, grief, angst, character death, not proof read.

Words: 1.3k

Part 1, Part 2

Masterlist Taglist Navigation

Please do not copy or translate any of my work. Thank you!

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

A heavy breath leaves his lungs, his mouth warming with the air. His fists come up and swish down to slam on the reflective leather of this steering wheel, his skin stinging with the impact.

His hold on the wheel is too tight. Veins protrude and dance on the surface of his skin. The bite of the friction in the leather pinches his palms.

“FUCK” Lemon yells. The silence of the night and deserted street echoes with his sound, reverberating in the sky.

What am I going to tell ‘em? It’s their fucking dad for fucks sake. We said we’d be back. Said we’d take care of ‘em.

He turns, the screeching of the wheels doing nothing to break him out of his own head. He's thinking 100 miles a minute, thoughts coming in one after another.

He passes under another street lamp, the leather interior of the car illuminating for a second before he passes it, being swallowed by darkness once more. 

The only thing he can see is the headlights shining on the bumpy road. But the image is skewed, blurry. He doesn't even realize he's crying until he feels the cold wetness of his shirt and the slick of the steering wheel.

He thinks of your smile. Of how you hug him on the couch underneath the softest blanket you can find, the TV making your eyes shine all the brighter, Thomas playing in the background.

He thinks of the day Tan- no, not Tan. Aaron. The day Aaron brought you home. Just a little bundle in his arms, cooing coming from your tiny form. Aaron wouldn't tell him where he got you.

He could've had the itch to take you because of your rosy little cheeks, klepto bastard. No. He wouldn't do something that heinous. He couldn't. It must've been because someone wasn't taking care of you. 

Aaron's hair was disheveled, his collar wrinkled. Lemon could guess all day what could have happened. How someone could've looked into your big eyes and done something bad enough that you were in the better hands of two assassins than them.

But Aaron would never tell him. And he told Lemon- Brian. He told Brian everything.

As you grew, they became painfully aware that they would do anything for you. Kill for you without blinking (not that they would ever let you see it). They would do anything to make sure that you are safe, happy, and cared for.

The second Brian laid eyes on you, he was infatuated. He cradled you to his chest, and his heart felt full.

The air in his lungs became lighter and wispy. He thought he was going to pass out when your little hand wrapped around his pinky, your fingers barely being able to touch because of how small they were. 

You fit in one hand, though he would always make sure your head and neck were supported. He didn't give a shit about having to change your diaper, or when you would wake up and have that little pout on your bottom lip before opening your mouth wide and wailing.

He watched as you grew up. As your hair got longer, you eventually asked if you could cut it. You got so big so fast.

Clothes stretched before they had to get you new ones. The tiny pitter-patter of your feet gets heavier as you get bigger. How your giggles got deeper.

He was always worried. People always said moving around too much wasn't good for children. You needed to stay at home without moving every month. So, they tried to stay in one place for as long as possible.

But you took everything in stride. Didn't care where you were or if you had to lose your friends and go to a new school, as long as you were with your family.

That's what makes this all the harder. You’re perfect. You never deserved to know that your dad died with love for you in his heart. That his last thought was getting home to you. Begging to be able to hug you just one more time.

Even as blood spewed from the hole in his throat. As his mouth filled and he choked and his skin got stained with crimson. As his legs gave out and he slumped to the floor, the metal wall behind him did nothing to support his weight.

Through it all, he was picturing his brother and his kid. The two people he couldn't imagine without. And now you would be without him. You should never know what that feels like.

An empty chair at the dining table. His favorite mug is left empty. Instead of three bedrooms, there's only going to be two. Two pairs of shoes. Two people holding onto each other for dear life, as the third was forced to let go long ago.

Lemon can't imagine the silence. No more bickering. No one telling him that his stickers are stupid and that he should shut up. No one helping to tuck you in at night.

How was he supposed to tell you that shit? How was he expected to let you know that your dad was gone, and he was never coming back?

His breathing becomes labored and forced as his nose fills with wet snot. A sob tears through him, his shoulders shaking with grief and regret.

He was supposed to get home. His usual place for comfort, and sit you down, and tell you that his brother's body was smashed under a train. That he got shot in the neck, and that Lemon had to leave him there. 

You can’t have a funeral. You can’t act out of the ordinary and attract unwanted attention. You have to pretend that everything is okay as you leave for a new apartment again.

He has to box up Aaron's belongings and leave them in a box in a dumpster. You can't take his belongings with you. Can't leave a trace that he ever even existed. 

You just have to grieve and move on. 

The car rolls into the parking garage, the sound of the engine reverberating off the concrete walls. Bryan pulls into a parking space, the tires slowing to a stop between two white lines. 

He stares at his hands, not moving to get out of the car. Dried blood lines the crevices of his knuckles. He takes in a shaky breath and lets it out, his shoulders slumping.

He brings his hands up to wipe the wetness from his cheeks. His tongue peeks out to moisten his lips, and he tastes salt and metal.

He doesn't remember leaving the car or riding the elevator up to the 13th floor. He barely remembers walking down the hall until the room number stares back at him. 

Before he can reach up to put his keys into the lock, he hears your footsteps. You know what they sound like when they get home. And you’ve been waiting the better part of a week for them to get back.

It doesn't even register that you only heard one set of footsteps.

You swing the door open with a smile on your face, excitement in your eyes. You’re wearing comfortable clothing. An oversized shirt and soft sweats. He recognizes the sweats as his, and the shirt as Aaron's.

The upturned corners of your mouth falter as you see him standing in the hallway by himself. Even more so when you notice his puffy eyes. Your mouth falls in a line as your eyebrows scrunch, creases forming in between them. 

“Hi, love.” It's barely louder than a whisper.

He gives no answers to any of your unsaid questions. The look on his face says it all. Tears start to gather in your eyes as you step away to let him in. 

[enormities-writes]

Ai Writing

I just went on Ao3 for the first time in a while, and I see a tag thats something like "AI generated writing" or "AI assisted writing"

...

What?! Im sorry, you took time to post and its just ai slop? Really? Like you took time out of your day to put your effort in something just to waste water and use ai? Why is this becoming normalized? omggg

[enormities-writes]

You guys have NO IDEA how hard it is not to vote on my own poll because I’m too impatient to see the results

The poll in question: link

[uniicorns-arereall]

you know what, fuck it be free, keep reading that bad fan fiction, keep writing that bad fanfiction, keep using y/n, keep staying up to 4 a.m reading x reader, to be cringe is too be free

(just NO a.i)

[enormities-writes]

THIS! Idc if it’s the worst, most cringiest shit ever (hell, I know most of my stuff isnt he best). A person wrote it! As long as it isn’t ai, who cares

[enormities-writes]

I’m so gay for Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt in Mr. And Mrs. Smith. They’re just so hiebfucons 😩

I won’t be speaking on real life situations with them two for obvious reasons, however they are so HOT in that movie.

Would you guy be down for a fic with them or are you not interested? Also, I’ve never made a poly fic before so would you want one or the other, or both? 😏 I obviously have a preference but I wouldn’t mind either way!

Also, if you would like a specific gender for the reader to be, please comment that below!

Sign up for my tag list while you’re at it :)

Would you read a Mr. And Mrs. Smith fic?

Yes (with just John)

Yes (with just Jane)

Yes (both)

No

Voting ended onJan 29

Here is the link!

[rafeandonlyrafe]

well 🧍‍♀️ as a reminder this blog is NOT a safe space for trump supporters but it IS a safe place for women, queers, trans ppl, people of color, undocumented people, and any marginalized group.

[enormities-writes]

Is it Love or Hate? | Penelope Garcia x Gn!Reader

Summary: Reader thinks Penelope hates them. Will a Christmas party change their mind?

Warnings: 3rd POV, not proof read, kissing, Penelope doubting herself, probably ooc everyone tbh, Penelope and Spencer being the besties they are, reader is smart

Words: 3074

Masterlist

Please do not copy or translate any of my work. Thank you!

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

You started working at the BAU just a few months ago and had felt a kind, welcoming connection with everyone (even if Hotch is a bit scary). 

But Penelope always seems not to want to talk to you. Always looks the other way and finds excuses to leave the room when you enter, leaving a cold and awkward air behind her. 

At first, you thought maybe she was just stressed or nervous about a new face on the team but the more time you spent at work, the more it seemed like that wasn't the case.

It made you feel so defeated and upset because the instant you laid eyes on her, you thought she was amazing. Her hair was swooshing around her shoulders, a brightly colored plastic accessory pinned to her bangs. A cute, soft cardigan warmed her arms as an adorable dress adorned her body below it.

Gorgeous, funny, goofy, nerdy, smart, her whole personality was just warm and wholeheartedly kind. 

Except for how she acted around you. 

For some reason, she can barely stand the sight of you. At least that's what it felt like. So harboring a crush on someone who basically hates your guts doesn't feel too good, believe it or not.

“I don’t know what I’ve done wrong, JJ,” You say, groaning exasperatedly, tilting your head back to look up at the ceiling in defeat and frustration. “You’ve done nothing wrong!” Her high-pitched voice fills the air of the meeting room, a warm hand being placed on your shoulder. 

You sit up and spin in your chair once she withdraws her hand. “I must’ve done something! She's so nice to everyone but avoids me like the plague.” 

“You’re misreading the situation. She doesn't hate you.” JJ sighs as if she’s talking to a child that she just put in timeout, shaking her head, her straight honey-blonde hair swaying in the air.

“What could I possibly be misreading? Her body language is always closed off when I’m around. Crossed arms, turning away, tensed muscles. Not to mention increased heart rate, strained voice if she even decides to speak, dilated pupils, shall I go on?”

JJ sighs, her head tilting to the side as she crosses her arms. You see Reid's crisp button-up as he passes by the door, his soft brown hair bouncing as he walks. “Whoever you’re talking about, it sounds like they have a crush”

His voice is highly analytical and precise as if he were solving a complex case. “Wait, what?” You call out, sitting up straight in the office chair, pointing your body towards the door, eyebrows furrowed together as your brain races with possibilities and answers to unanswered questions.

Reid pivots on his feet, coming back into the frame to accentuate his point. “Well, increased heart rate, strained voice, and dilated pupils are all signs of attraction. Actually, The National Library of Medicine did a study on it. Physical features, such as pupil size, gaze directionality, eye color, facial symmetry, and nonverbal displays, are encoded by human minds.. Um yes, it- it sounds like they have a crush.”

Reid stops himself short of a tangent of some study about behavioral science that he surely has memorized all the words of.

You blink, shaking your head. “Ya know, usually Reid, I would thank you for being a human Google Search but there's no way Penelope is attracted to me.” You awkwardly chuckle, mind racing a mile a minute. 

Spencer goes stiff at the information that they're talking about Penelope. He tightens his fingers around his coffee mug a little tighter, his skin taking on a whiter yellow-y color. His posture a little straighter, his eyes a little wider as he gulps down the saliva in his mouth nervously. 

“Spencer? What is it?” You ask, picking up on the difference in his demeanor. 

“W-What? Oh, It’s nothing. I just didn't know w- we- we were talking about her. So it’s probably not attraction. Not- not that she hates you or anything of course! An-anyways, I have some paperwork to get to so..” He tails off, slowly but briskly leaving the doorway. 

Me and JJ stay silent for a second, staring at the doorway where Spencer once stood before slowly turning to each other.

“That was weird.” JJ's eyebrows are furrowed, her mouth open so her lips have a little gap between them, a blank and confused expression on her face.

You both get up to go to our desks, the warm lights of the stringed bulbs that are hanging in the main area shining in our eyes. The whole BAU was decorated to the nines for Christmas, with lights and tinsel every which way.

You plop down at your desk and start on a stack of paperwork. You take a pen out of your cup full of them, hearing the tink of it hitting the surface. You press the small button at the top of it to make the pen tip come out with a mechanical click as your eyes see Spencer walk out of Penelope's bat cave with an anxious and regretful look on his face.

Deciding to overthink that tad bit of information later, you get started on the migraine-inducing stack of paper.

After hours of coffee, computers, paperwork, and thinking, Hotch walks into the main area. “Go home early, everyone. The parties tomorrow.” He announces, referring to the Christmas party at Rossi's house tomorrow night and not bothering to mention the few days of work you guys have off. Without further thought, he walks back into his office and begins to clean up his desk.

Finishing up on writing the last paragraph down, JJ passes by, being seen in the peripheral of your vision. “Hey, do you wanna get some dinner?” You decide to call out, barely glancing up from the last sentence.

“I can’t, I'm too tired. I’m probably going to go home, put something in the microwave, and pass out.” She shrugs, her eyes tired and almost defeated.

“No worries, I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Bye!”

You finish your work and grab your bag, making your way to the elevator. You see the doors closing, only a foot away from each other, inching closed. “Wait, hold it please!” You shout, jogging towards the big metal doors.

A manicured hand stretches out, wedging itself between the shiny doors. They retreat from their path, sliding into the open position.

You huff, sliding into the elevator, the doors shutting seconds after you do. Penelope stands, wide-eyed, realizing who she is holding the door for.

“Oh, hi.” You swallow, trying to make the space a little less awkward with a little bit of small talk. Instead of replying, she just nods, redirecting her head to look straight forward, inwardly praying for the elevator to move as fast as possible.

You take a breath, letting the silence sit for a moment before you look over at her. Her hair is curled, pretty waves cascading over her shoulders as red and green hair accessories pin her hair back on either side.

“I love your dress.” You decide complimenting her is probably the best course of action. It might make her a bit more relaxed, more at ease. 

Instead, it only seems to make her more nervous. She bites her lip, her posture stiffening as if she is the most uncomfortable she’s ever been in her life. “Thanks” The words almost sound choked as they leave her mouth.

The second the elevator doors open, she's hurrying out of the building, speed walking as fast as she can to get out of the clear doors to the street outside.

You sigh. No matter how hard you try to be friendly and make her feel more welcome, she always seems like you're contagious or something. A ball forms at the back of your throat and you clear it as you make your way out of the building, saying goodbye to the receptionist and wishing him a happy holiday. 

The next day you take it slow, sleeping in and making easy food before starting to get ready way before the actual event, not wanting to rush anything. You know it's probably fruitful but you decide to dress your best, doing everything you can to look as good as possible.

In the back of your head, you think of scenarios where Penelope compliments you, saying you look cute. How you’d all of a sudden hit it off and you’d ask her out on a date and she’d be overjoyed at the idea, a blush highlighting her cheeks.

But at the end of the day, you also know that theres no way that would ever happen. She would never compliment you, much less talk to you on her own free volition. 

She’d most likely ignore you all night if nothing else. 

And you tried not to think about that too hard. You didn’t want to be depressed today of all days. You didn't want to feel bad about yourself. And so, you put on your very best clothes in hopes that it will make you feel better and that the party will go better than planned. You lied to yourself.

That night you made your way to Rossis, and when he opened the door for you, you were quickly welcomed into his lavish home. High ceilings, expensive furnishings and appliances, and when you followed him into his living room, one of the largest Christmas trees you’ve ever seen in your life was on display.

The team seemed happy, carefree, and relaxed. You wander over and join the lively conversation. You talk adamantly about random topics, funny stories, jokes, and past jobs. 

“Jesus, you look amazing!” JJ brings you into a tight hug, a big beautiful grin gracing her face. She squeezes you, her hand rubbing your back for a few seconds before she pulls back, looking at you, her eyes scanning your face like she was trying to see all the detail and hard work you put in tonight.

Looking to your left for a split second, you spot Penelope, looking as gorgeous as always. Her face is pulled up into a smile as she hits Morgan's arm, responding to some retort he just called out. 

She still has her coat on over the dress she's wearing but it all ties in perfectly. The way her hair is done expertly and the way her glasses frame her eyes, almost showcasing the beautiful color. 

Her cheeks lift again to laugh, adorable little creases forming around her mouth, her eyes almost closing at how hard the joy takes over her face. Her hair swooshes with the movement of the vibration of the laugh, her shoulders rocking.

“You did this for her, huh?” You snap your head back at JJ, her voice knocking you out of you staring.

Her facial expression is knowing, almost scolding as she squints her eyes at you. 

“No.” It sounds unconvincing, even to your ears. You cross your arms as JJ tilts her head with an eyebrow raised, a silent question on if you’re really trying to lie to the both of you.

“..Maybe.”

JJ shakes her head knowingly but says nothing, a quiet conversation being noted between the two of you. 

The night goes on as everyone has fun. But miraculously, every time you and Penelope are in the same conversation, she manages to slip away. Deciding to give up, you decide to head to the restroom, only to find a small queue has formed. 

Someone is in it, the door shut and locked as no one other than Penelope is waiting for it to open. You awkwardly clear your throat, deciding to lean on the wall across from her silently to wait for the bathroom.

The silence is palpable, the stench of it filling the air, making the oxygen almost thick. The blank sound lingers, a contrast to the lively music and talking faintly heard from the main part of the house.

You heave a sigh, not knowing what to do, your mind grasping at ways to ease the tension. “You look great.” You decide to give her a compliment to which she gives a halfhearted smile.

“Thanks.”

She looks away, obviously trying to not engage in conversation. The pit at the back of your throat starts forming again and maybe you’ve drank too much champagne so your next words are completely unfiltered.

“Why do you hate me?” The words come off as exasperated and almost meek, like you're grasping at straws but you couldn't care less right now. The words have always been at the back of your head but the nerve to ask such a thing has never presented itself. And if it has, you chicken out immediately.

Her head whips back to you. “What?” Her eyebrows are furrowed, and her eyes wide, surprise evident in her features.

“What have I done wrong? Is there something I can do? Is there something I need to apologize for?” 

“What? Of course not.” Her answer is immediate. Like the answer to your question was a no-brainer. You step a little closer.

“Then why do you never talk to me? Or leave the room when I enter? Or act as if I don’t even exist? Or when you do, act as if I’m contagious?” The words fly out of your mouth like word vomit. But It’s not as if you’re not telling the truth about how you feel. On how her actions affect you.

“I just-” She cuts herself off, being caught in a corner by your words.

“Just what? Why do you have such disdain for me?”

“I don’t I just-” 

“Then why?”

You pester her, wanting the answers to your questions, the conversation became slightly heated, the back and forth becoming faster.

“I don't, I just have a crush on you!” The words spill over. Her eyes go wide as she hears them slip past her lips.

There's a beat of silence, the words soaking into each of your brains.

“What?” The words are soft as they come out, confusion evident in their tone.

“Just forget I said anything. Ya know what? I’m sure Derek-” Before she can figure out a way to escape the situation, you step closer, slightly crowding her space. Her eyes frantically search down the hallway, hoping for someone to walk by or for an out to this.

“Wait no, you like me?” 

At the confrontation, she turns mousy. Her head ducks down and her voice cuts off. Both of your hearts are beating in your ears, afraid the other can hear it.

Your mouth involuntarily breaks into a small smile. There's no way she feels the same about you. Every situation from the past few months flashes in your mind. She has such a big crush that she has had to leave rooms and try to mask her flushed cheeks and flustered expression. She's been forced to look away and not talk to you, afraid you’ll pick up on her feelings.

“Jesus Christ, you really had me scared that you hated my guts. Fuck, I think you’re amazing, Penelope.” You step a little closer, both underneath the closed doorway to the bathroom. 

Her glassy eyes look up at you from their place transfixed on the floor. In those Irises hold amazement. Doubt. Shock.

“What?” Her mind's going a mile a minute. There's no way that you could like her like that. She goes through all her flaws and all her quirks. 

The fact that she plays MMORPGs, her love for fashion, the small trinkets she puts at her desk, and her personality is less than conventional. I mean, no one likes her. Right?

(for people who don’t know or don’t understand what that means: Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Games. Think of things like World Of Warcraft, Runescape, Final Fantasy 14, things like that)

“Penelope, I think you're perfect. I mean, how could I not? You're smart, funny, charming, quirky, bubbly, beautiful. I’m just surprised you like me.”

It’s her turn to be bewildered. “Of course I like you” She breathes a deep breath, realizing that you don’t see her “faults”. Well you do, but you see them as good things. You see them as cute little puzzle pieces that fit together to get her.

Her eyes glance up, a tiny plant being held up by a ribbon hanging in the frame of the tall door. Your eyes follow hers, seeing a little mistletoe above your heads.

Building up the courage, your eyes travel down to her. Swallowing, you say tentatively, “Can I kiss you, Penelope.” 

Her eyes are big like a puppy, looking at you as if you're just a dream. Her head jostles as she nods a silent yes.

Your lips meet gently, the soft skin pressing to each other. The simple touch feels like it puts air into your lungs, like it’s your first time truly breathing. And when you go to pull away, your eyes open a sliver and colors seem brighter than before and sounds feel clearer.

Her head tilts towards yours and she quickly reconnects your lips, your eyelids slipping closed once more. And this time, everything fades out but her. Her soft hands reach to your jawline, her soft lips caressing yours.

Her dress is soft in your hands and you bring them up to her sides. Her perfume was in the air, wafting delightfully around her. The way she moves her lips against yours; anxious but yearning and loving. Warm.

Your brain swims with thoughts of her. As if you two were the only things that existed, before a throat clearing pulls your lips away from each other, eyes opening and looking over to the cause of the sound. 

Only to find Spencer scratching the back of his neck. “I’ll just uh, sorry.” He tensely slips between you two, speed-walking down the hallway. As you hear his footsteps recede, he pops his head back into view from the corner he turned. “Congrats.” Before he ducks his head, escaping the scene.

Penelope giggles, a hand coming up to go in front of her mouth to contain them. You turn your head her way, a laugh escaping your own lips.

With the warm feeling still in your stomach, you smile as you ask, “Penelope, would you like to go on a date with me?”

Your question is answered immediately with a bashful expression. “Yes”

[glittersokka]

TODAY IS THE ONLY DAY YOU CAN REBLOG THIS

[enormities-writes]

Goodbye | Lemon and Tangerine x GN! Reader Part 1

Summary: A regular morning turns heavy when the people you love most have to leave.

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of death, not proof read or edited, sadness? idk

Words: 800

A/N: This is in no way romantic! More of a reader insert than any love interest being involved. I wrote this just now so I am sure it is ridden with errors and the writing isn't great lol. I used the actors names as their real names! I feel like calling someone you love a code name they don't even have yet is.. bizarre

Part 1, Part 2

Masterlist Taglist Navigation

Please do not copy or translate any of my work. Thank you!

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

You stand in the kitchen, the metal ridges of your butter knife scraping against the piece of toast balanced in your band. The jam spreads over the light brown, staining it magenta. Once you decide it has enough, you twist close the jar, the metal top clinging against the glass.

A high pitched British voice echoes from the living room. The distinct voice of Thomas echoing from the TV.

Shuffling feet and clattering fills any empty space, murmuring of insults and arguing is muffled through the walls of the apartment. 

You finish plating your meal, a simple breakfast even though it’s already 1:30 pm.

“Honey?!” A male voice calls out. The corners of your lips raise despite yourself.

“What?!”

“We’re about to leave, come in ‘ere!”

You wish you could be annoyed or roll your eyes. But even the mention of them leaving, again, creates a tightness in your chest. They’re not just leaving. They’re leaving you.

Your bare feet pitter patter across the wooden paneling of the floor, walking out into the hallway. You traverse the apartment easily, even though you've been staying here only 2 weeks. The last flat was only 1.5 before you had to get moving again.

Pack. Pay. Move. Unpack. Repeat.

You brush past the large wooden arch leading to the main family room. They’re there, standing in the suits they have freshly ironed, affection softening the edges of their eyes.

“What are your code names this time?” You come to a lazy stop in front of them, eyes darting from one to another.

This is the worst part. Saying goodbye yet again. Dread overcomes you before you can even think about it. They can try to reassure you, broken promises laced in their words. But you all know that each and every time they leave, they may not come back.

You'd be stuck in the empty apartment, Thomas’s voice filling the silence. But that would only be an empty reminder that they're not there. No more “I love you’s no more arguing, because even though it gets annoying and you hate them fighting, it's better than silence. They’re brothers, they would do anything for each other. Most importantly, they would do anything for you.

Every single time they leave, it's a reminder that your words to them could be the last.

“Lem-”

“Its too dangerous to tell you, love,”

Aaron's voice overlaps Brian's, forcefully talking louder to drown him out.

Brian looks over to the taller male. “Ex-fuckin-scuse you?” “What? They don't need to know. What if somethin’ happened? It’s best if they know as little as possible. Didn't think you'd be that fuckin’ stupi-” “I think silly names are the least of our worries, mate.”

They start to bicker, voices overlapping the others. “Hey.” Silence falls over them as they turn to you once more.

“Sorry, love. C’mere.” His blue eyes gaze at you lovingly as he opens his arms to you.

There is no doubt in your mind as you melt against him, his strong arms wrapping around your figure. His lips peck against your forehead, the thick hair of his mustache lightly scratching against your soft skin. “I love you, sweetheart. You be good, okay? This is an easy job. Get a dickhead back to his father. We will be back before you know it.”

“Doubt it.” The words leave your lips, the air escaping before you can think about it.

He pulls back, his brows drawing up. “I’m sorry, love. We’ll be back as soon as we can. We will be thinkin’ of you the whole time.”

He pulls you back in, giving you one last squeeze before stepping away, the heels of his expensive dress shoes clacking against the floor.

“Alright, now that he's stopped hoggin’ you.” Brian tackles you in a hug, gentle all the while. His big arms warm your sides even through the fabric of his jacket.

“I love you. More than anything. You better not spoil the next episode of Thomas for me, okay?”

The laugh you let out is wet, eyes stinging as tears rise to the surface.

“Hey, none of that. We will be back super soon. And then we can sit on the couch and cuddle and watch the new episode of Thomas, and make fun of the bellend over there.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. More than anythin’.”

Pulling away is hard, but eventually his hands leave your body, brushing the fabric of your soft shirt on their way.

Every goodbye is hard. Each one is harder than the last. One day, inevitably, they won't come back. Every time is a toss of the odds. Every single time, the odds rise. 

They start to leave, the car already packed.

Right before the door swings closed, you call out, “Bye Dad! Bye Uncle Brian!”

Lemon will never forget the look on your face the night he came home without his brother.