#but yeah- this would be fun to write. It’s also consuming my every waking moment.

[semperama]

10 and 18 🙏🙏🙏

Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

To me, if I said a piece of writing "haunted" me, it would just mean that I cannot stop thinking about it/am obsessed with it to an unreasonable or unsettling degree, and yeah, that happens to me with other people's writing all the time!! Both with published fiction and also with fanfic. It's so basic of me, but I definitely felt that way after reading The Secret History by Donna Tartt, and also My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante. And probably others too, but those are the two books that first come to mind when it comes to things that consumed my every waking thought for days after I read them.

For my own writing, hmm. I feel like when I'm haunted by my own writing, it's only during the writing process, and it has a more negative connotation. I often get this feeling where I'm obsessed with the world and the idea of what I'm writing, but when I'm in that phase, I'm usually failing at actually putting words on the page, probably BECAUSE I'm overthinking. I'll lay awake at night drowning myself in little scenarious, but never actually write them down, or when I try to write them down, they don't live up to my imagination. That's a bad place to be!! As fun as it is to be consumed by something like that, I definitely don't do my best work when it's happening.

Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

Oh dear!! I'm so bad at these commentary things, mostly because, as I hinted at above, I think I do my best writing when I'm not thinking too hard about it, so it's often hard for me to go back and talk about how I came up with things or my thought process behind it, because...ideally I wasn't having too many thoughts! But I guess I'll attempt to talk about the opening paragraphs of A Praise Chorus:

Max gives him a birthday card. The envelope is blue, and Daniel thumbs it open carefully to find a picture of two cats in party hats and a hand-scrawled message inside about how he’s over the hill. He laughs and pulls Max into a hug, his mind racing a mile a minute about how—It’s weird, right? It’s so weird. The only people who send him cards anymore are his parents. No one else here got him anything. A lot of them have probably already forgotten it’s his birthday, too focused on their own plans for the weekend, getting laid or getting high.

“Thanks, man,” he says, squeezing Max’s shoulder as they break apart. He can’t look him in the eye. Something itches between his shoulder blades, where Max’s palm rested for maybe a second too long. “Let’s get a drink, huh?”

“I got it,” Max says. Daniel scoffs and waves him off, but later he catches Max slipping a credit card into the hand of a passing waiter. He’s a fucking kid, not even 20 for a couple more months, not even through his second year of F1, and Daniel can afford to buy his own bottles. But Max catches his eye and gives a thumbs up, two bright spots of red high on his cheeks that Daniel would think were sunburn if he didn’t know better.

So, I've recently talked about how the idea of the birthday card saved this fic, because I was totally lost about how to begin it when I first started writing. I originally was trying to open the fic with Max doing the shoey, but I think the reason it wasn't working is because that wouldn't freak Daniel out enough. Which is a weird thing to say about a guy drinking champagne from a shoe, but ultimately I think that's the kind of thing a guy can shrug off as just guys being dudes, you know? Whereas showing up to a San Tropez birthday party with a card of all things is just uncanny enough to send Daniel into a crisis, lol.

I think the part where Max insists on paying for the drinks really drives it home, because again, it'd be totally normal for your buddy-pal to insist on buying you drinks on your birthday, but since Daniel is already off-kilter, it takes on a different kind of meaning for him. I think it sets the tone for the rest of the fic, where Daniel starts to question what's normal and what's not and what it is he's actually feeling. The road to untangling his denial had to start with something he couldn't deny--the birthday card and how it made him feel--and then suddenly it became harder for him to cope with even normal friend stuff.

I hope all that rambling made sense, ahaha. Like I said, I'm bad at this!!

#writing asks

[emerald-chaos]

Daydream

**gif not mine! credit to the owner**

So, I couldn't help myself. This is a continuation of my previous Bucky fic Insomnia because I just really enjoyed the dynamic between Bucky and the reader. I had a lot of fun writing this part and I love building things up between the two of them. If you guys like this or are interested in seeing more - please let me know! I love talking with people and hearing their ideas and such.

Much love xo.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 2079

Warnings: cursing, struggles with mental illness, mentions of sex (nothing entirely explicit but better safe than sorry), alcohol use, and really poorly written jokes lmao

Fingers threaded into hair.

Hot, opened-mouth kisses marking every surface of your neck.

Nails trailing down his back leaving raised, red lines in their wake.

“Oh my god,” you groaned as you let your head fall back and continued to rock your hips into the man in front of you.

Strong hands tighten their hold on your hips, sure to leave purplish-blue bruises for the morning.

“C’mon, baby,” he grunted, face buried in your neck as he helped your body to grind against his, “I got you. Let go, fuck, let go for me.”

A pair of slender fingers snapped in front of your line of sight, tearing you from your daydream and bringing you harshly back to reality.

“Hmm, what was that?” You blinked a few times before you turned your attention to the redhead who you, apparently, had been having a conversation with.

“Are you serious?” She laughed, “I’ve been talking for the past 10 minutes! I looked over and you had that far off, glossy look in your eyes. Not to mention you’re bleeding.”

A hand found its way to your lower lip and you realized she was right. You had been so lost in wet dreamland that you chewed a layer of skin off of your lip. You hoped she didn’t notice the heat rising in your face as you cleared your throat, grabbing a tissue from the coffee table.

“Sorry,” you muttered, pressing the tissue against your injured lip, “guess I got lost in thought.”

“Is it one of those flashbacks again?” She asked kindly, facial expression softening.

You nodded quickly, knowing fully well that the statement was a lie. Your gaze drifted over the woman’s shoulder to the subject of your previous thoughts. It would be easier to explain the common occurrence of your PTSD than it would be to explain that you were reminiscing on the hot, steamy, passionate sex you had the night before.

Bucky was situated across the room, leaning against the counter as he talked to Rogers and Wilson. The unfortunately tight, black, short-sleeve t-shirt he was wearing left nothing to the imagination. It accentuated every muscle of the body you had gotten to know so intimately not more than 10 hours ago. His muscular arms were crossed at his chest and he was sporting his signature scowl. Everything about the sight sent a shiver down your spine. You finally had a taste and you wanted more.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Your friend’s voice gained your attention once more.

A small smile found its way to your lips as you met her gaze again. Apart from Bucky, Nat had always been a good trauma buddy of yours. From the beginning she had been someone you felt like you could confide in and someone who would understand your troubles. Sometimes you wondered if a requirement of joining the avengers was to have a fucked up, tragic backstory.

“I’m okay, Nat.” You reassured, “Just got lost in my head again.”

“Whatever you say. Maybe the party tonight will help you get your mind off of things,” She mused as she pushed herself from the couch to stand up. She paused briefly before she turned to you again, “you are coming, right?”

“Yeah,” you snorted, “Tony actually threatened me if I didn’t go this time, so, I guess I have to.”

After the last party you skipped out on, Tony cornered you in the hallway and gave you quite the interrogation. Then he went on a spiel about how staying in your room all day and all night was bad for you and that if he didn’t know better he would think you weren’t appreciative of what he’d done for you and blah, blah, blah. Tony really was a good person underneath all that hair gel. All he wanted was to help you break out of your shell and give you the family he knew you were lacking. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be a pushy asshole.

“Good, I’ll see you there. I’m sure Barnes will too.” A devilish grin painted her lips as she watched your jaw drop. Before you had a chance to say anything she was off down the hallway.

Fuckin’ Natasha.

*******

A pile of clothes littered your bed as you slipped another dress over your form. Not once in your life had you ever been concerned about what you were wearing or what you looked like, but there was something about tonight that made you want to turn heads. Your eyes raked down your figure as you twisted from side to side, admiring the way the black dress hugged your body in all the right places. Not to mention the thigh high slit in the dress showed off probably the only body part you weren’t self-conscious about. Tony, being the theatrical and over the top man he was, once said that you shouldn’t show up to his parties if you weren’t dressed to court a royal or to bring a man to his knees. Guess you were shooting for the latter.

As you put the finishing touches on your look for the evening, you felt that familiar heavy feeling settling into your chest. Your body always had a tendency to go into fight or flight mode when you became too familiar with anything or anyone. It felt like every fiber in your body was screaming for you to retreat into sweats and stay in your room, to not allow yourself this opportunity to enjoy the people you’d grown so close to. You know what happens when you let people in.

Grief, trauma, coping - it made it really difficult to live a “normal” life. Everyday tasks are daunting, it can be next to impossible to have intimate friendships or relationships, and not to mention the intrusive thoughts that infect your mind on a daily, if not hourly, basis. Here you were, the happiest you’d been in years. You were finally in a place where you felt loved, comfortable, safe - and yet your mind was trying to self-sabotage again.

You took a moment to close your eyes and take several deep breaths. When you opened your eyes you locked eyes with your reflection in the mirror and made a pact with the girl staring back at you. The intrusive thoughts and self-doubt couldn’t continue to have a hold over you anymore. You gave yourself a small smirk and nod as you made the decision to throw caution to the wind and give the party a try. What’s the worst that could happen?

*******

Come to find out, the worst that could happen would be your competitive nature overcoming the rational, thinking part of your brain; which in turn would lead you to enter in a drinking contest. Thankfully a small portion of your pink, smooth brain was still functional enough to tell you when you’d reached your limit. Now you sat comfortably on the couch, legs tucked underneath you as you joyfully watched your friends argue.

“Dr. Banner, my friend, you are one of the most intelligent people I know. However, you are wrong.” Thor stated simply as he finished the rest of his drink.

“Thor, for the last time, water is not wet!” Bruce retorted, throwing his hands up in frustration.

You let out a loud snort before thinking, “Oh yeah, water. I should drink some water.”

Your feet planted themselves on the floor and slipped back into your pair of shoes. As you made your way to the kitchen you were pleasantly surprised by your balance and coordination, considering how much alcohol you’d consumed. Seems that drinking with Thor has done wonders for your tolerance.

While you were busy searching the refrigerator for a bottle of water, you were also oblivious to the soft sound of footsteps coming into the kitchen. After retrieving the beverage, you closed the door and turned to leave. Instead, you turned right into the chest of a figure that was definitely not there a moment ago. You yelped as you clutched a hand over your chest dramatically, your face filled with horror as though you’d just come face to face with the grim reaper.

“Jesus Christ, Barnes!” you scolded.

Bucky was holding his abdomen as he leaned back, consumed with laughter at your reaction. You huffed and wanted to be offended, but he looked so damn cute laughing that you couldn’t help but join him. You pushed his chest playfully and grumped as you hopped up to sit on the counter, opening the water to gulp about half of it down. Bucky couldn’t help but grin at your pouty state as he finished up his laughing fit.

“My apologies, sweets. Didn’t realize I’d be makin’ ya scream twice in one day.” He teased, grinning even wider as he did so.

Your jaw dropped at the comment, quickly looking around to make sure no one else was in the kitchen to hear what he had said. After seeing that the coast was clear you kicked your foot at him out of annoyance, only for his metal hand to catch it smoothly. The two of you locked eyes, motionless for a moment before he moved closer, sliding his hand from your ankle to your thigh. In the moment, you damned yourself for choosing this particular dress. The closer he got, the faster your breathing became. The contrast between his cold embrace and your flushed, warm skin sent a shiver down your spine. Abandoning the water bottle, you ran your hands up his abdomen and chest until they rested on his shoulders. Following a small nudge from his knee, you parted your legs to allow him space to stand between them. The heat in your face at an all time high as he pressed his flesh hand to your cheek.

“Haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about you.” Bucky whispered as he stroked the apple of your cheek with his thumb. Each word that left his lips had you feeling way more intoxicated than any liquor you’d had all night.

As quickly as it started, his touch was gone and his back was turned as he opened the fridge. Before you had a chance to open your mouth to ask what the hell just happened, Tony was entering into the kitchen.

“Well, well, well. Surprised to see you here, Annie.” Tony beamed as he laid eyes on you.

Yes, Tony had nicknamed you after little orphan Annie. Yes, he also referred to himself lovingly as Daddy Warbucks. Yes, any person in their right mind would probably be offended, but you were just fucked up enough that you found it kind of hilarious.

“Wish I could say that it’s a pleasure, Tony.” You grumped back, upset that you’d been cockblocked and by Tony no less.

“Never lose that spunk, kid.” Tony winked as he turned to see Bucky retreating from the fridge with a beer in hand. “Inspector Gadget! Good to see you too.”

As much as you didn’t want to encourage him, you couldn’t help but laugh. Much to your dismay, Bucky simply raised his bottle to Tony as if to say “cheers” and padded out of the kitchen.

“He has such a way with words.” Tony teased as you rolled your eyes.

A sigh left your lips as you slipped off the counter and back onto the floor, muttering a “goodnight” before leaving the kitchen and heading back to your room. Although you wanted nothing more than to find Bucky and finish what he had started in the kitchen, you came to the conclusion that you were probably too drunk and definitely too tired.

Back in the comfort of your bedroom, you went about your normal nighttime routine. As you exited the bathroom, you couldn’t help but notice a piece of paper that had been slipped beneath your door. Grabbing the paper from the floor and plopping back onto your soft mattress, you opened it to read the note that was scribbled in black ink.

Never got the chance to tell you how gorgeous you looked tonight. Gotta say, I’m a big fan of that dress.

Sweet dreams.

- B.

When you finished the note, it felt as though you were floating on cloud 9. Even when you laid your head down and tried to welcome sleep, Bucky’s words were still replaying in your head over and over again - like they were lyrics to your new favorite song.

Turns out you were down for Bucky Barnes, and you were down bad.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan character #marvel fanfiction #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #white wolf #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan imagine

[petri808]

hiii i am absolutely obsessed with ur drabbles could u please do nalu #4 and #39 pls🥺

“Walk out that door and we’re through” + “Please come home, I miss you”

This was tough cause the questions could trigger a story similar to this one I also did for these prompt asks round. But I think I can make it different enough, albeit angst hell 😅 here we go! It’s a little rushed but longer then I expected for a ficlet lol

“Lucy,” Natsu knocked at the office door, “it’s time to go.”

“Where?” She answered without looking up.

“Levy’s birthday party.”

“Oh!” Lucy sat up in her desk chair and turned her body to face her husband. “Right! I forgot. Um, shucks, but I’m on a writing high right now and I can’t stop— tell her I’ll make it up to her, will ya?”

She always says that… Natsu sighed, “yeah, sure…”

Levy Redfox was Lucy’s childhood best friend and while the woman was also his friend, it just didn’t sit well with Natsu that she’d choose writing over the woman. But this had been an ongoing issue lately... Don’t get him wrong, he fully supported his wife’s career as an author, especially now that it’s really starting to take off. The issue was it had consumed her at the expense of everyone around her.

He knocked on their friends door, answered by Levy herself.

“Natsu!” Levy hugged the man excitedly, but when she noticed he was alone, frowned a tad. “Again, huh?”

“I’m sorry, Levy,” Natsu’s shoulders slumped. “Lucy’s in a,” he made quotation marks in the air, “‘writing high,’ and said she’ll make it up to you.”

“Well, I’m glad you came,” the woman smiled despite the sadness hiding behind her eyes.

All of their closest friends were in attendance and spent the evening talking, eating, and playing a few fun birthday games. It distracted him to some extent, but as the night wore down and the other guests had all left, Natsu, his best friend Gray Fullbuster, Levy, and her husband Gajeel sat around in the living room talking about the elephant in the room. Lucy.

“I’ve tried talking to her,” Levy said quietly, “but, I try not to make it sound too harsh.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what you need to do babe,” Gajeel chimed in. “Be blunt.”

“Yeah, I’m like you,” Natsu agreed with Levy. “It’s not easy to bring it up cause she’s oblivious about it.”

“But it’s hurting your marriage man!” Gray looked at Natsu. “And your friendship,” he switched to Levy. “I’m with Gajeel. If you aren’t honest with her, it’s not gonna get better.”

“Think I don’t know that?!” Natsu spat back. “Think I enjoy being the only one in that house in pain?! I don’t, but—” his voice cracked, “I’m worried I’ll push her away if I say something.”

“She’s already pushing you away dude. Do you still love her?”

“Of course, I do,” Natsu sighed. “I love her more than anything, but apparently it’s not enough… we haven’t even… you know, I can’t remember the last time.”

“Wow… Then you really gotta tell her. All of it,” Gray coaxed.

Levy who’d sat quietly through the back and forth, chimed in quietly. “Gray’s right. You should tell her, when you go home, just tell her how you’re feeling. And whatever happens, happens. We can just hope for the best.”

“You know you’ll be the first to hear from her if I do,” Natsu pointed out.

“I know. But… it’s time I come clean too.”

Natsu slumped back onto the couch and let out a depressed exhale. “And you,” he looked to Gray. “You know if it goes wrong I’ll be showing up at your door.”

“My couch has your name on it.”

“Gee, thanks.”

That had to be the longest drive home Natsu had ever taken, even though it was really just 10 minutes. He was a physical person by nature and never been very good at expressing his feelings in words. Words were his wife’s domain. There were a lot of things he wanted to say, but his biggest fear was saying things wrong. With his hand on the doorknob, Natsu took one last breath and opened the door to her office. He knew before entering, Lucy was still working by the clacks of the keyboard and interrupting would immediately cause friction. But he couldn’t wait anymore.

“I’m home,” Natsu called out… with no response. He sighed and spoke more sternly. “Lucy. I’m home.”

“Oh, welcome home,” she finally responded. “How was the party?”

He knew it was an empty question, because she never even looked up or stopped typing and it meant she wasn’t really listening. “Lucy… we need to talk.”

“I’m kinda busy Natsu.”

“I know, but you’re always busy Lucy. That’s part of the problem.” The moment the last word came out, Natsu knew instantly he’d picked the wrong one. Crap.

Lucy stopped typing, turned off the screen and shut the laptop. “Problem?” She turned the chair around with her eyes narrowed in a focused glare. “What do you mean, problem?”

“Lucy,” he ran a hand down his face, “I don’t want to fight, but we need to talk— there’s a lot we need to talk about.”

“Like what?” She crossed her arms. “What is so important that you need to mess with my job?”

There it was.

“I’m not trying to do that,” he sighed. “You know how proud I am of your career. But, it feels as if you’re choosing your career over everything else in your life. Me, your friends, we’re all just being pushed aside—”

“Are you kidding me?!” Lucy shot out of her chair shaking in anger. “I am not doing any of that! I’m not pushing anyone away! Y-You’re the one who’s acting selfish trying to tell me I’m not giving you enough attention! And don’t you bring Levy into this! If this was bothering her she’d tell me!”

“It does bother her! But she’s afraid of getting,” he gestured with his hands up and down at Lucy, “this reaction! Is it selfish to want to spend some time with my own wife?!” Natsu growled. “We never spend time together anymore! You’re just always hunched over that damn computer!”

“I’m doing my job!” Lucy shrieked. “I have deadlines to meet! This story ain’t gonna write itself! Research ain’t gonna materialize on its own! It’s a lot of work!”

“Lucy,” Natsu pinched his brows together, trying hard to stop from snapping further as well as to control the tears building in his eyes. “I love you, more than anything in this world, but I don’t know what happened to the woman I’d married. The old Lucy wouldn’t abandon her loved ones like this.”

“You’re just mad because I’m successful now.”

“That’s bullshit! And you know it! No job is worth losing the people you care about, and if you can’t understand that, then, I don’t know what else to say!”

“Then I guess there isn’t anything more to say,” she spat back.

“I guess not.” Natsu answered softly, turned and left the room.

He’d already assumed confronting Lucy about her precious career would not end well, and he was right. Staying would only cause more trouble. So, he quietly packed a suitcase to go to Gray’s house, making sure to bring anything he’d need because he had no idea how long he’d stay there. He’d said his peace; it really was all in Lucy’s hands now.

Back in her office, Lucy dropped back down into her chair as the full weight of what just transpired hit her like a ton of bricks. She cradled her face in her hands as the anger that had fueled her response suddenly mixed with sadness. Tears flowed free. Did that really just happen?! She could hear Natsu moving around in the bedroom, the opening of drawers, the closet, the zipping sound of the suitcase, each and every step driving a knife deeper and deeper. How dare he tell her to stop writing! This was her dream! Her livelihood! Why couldn’t he just support her instead of acting like a child who wasn’t getting attention!

When she heard Natsu walking towards the front door area, Lucy raced out of the room to confront him one last time.

“Walk out that door and we’re through!” She screamed. “Do you hear me? We’re through!”

Natsu ignored her words knowing it was the anger talking… hoping it was just the emotions fueling her rage. “I’ll be at Gray’s,” he simply responded with a hint of sadness in his tone. “You should really think long and hard about this Lucy, because if not, you’ll lose a lot more than you realize.” And with that, he closed the front door behind him.

Lucy crumpled to the ground and wailed— raged, banging the floor with her fists as the sobbing overtook her. She truly could not understand what brought this on. Hadn’t she been a good wife?! Faithful! Hard working! What more did he want?! All she was doing was trying to make it in the cut-throat world of publishing. Does he not understand how hard it is to make it in that world?! She pulled her phone from her pocket and started to dial Levy’s phone number. But just as she got to the last two numbers, she stopped. It was already 1 am, and it would be rude to wake her friend up. Lucy sniffled and hung her head in shame before dragging herself back towards the bedroom. She’ll just call in the morning.

When Levy answered the phone, Lucy was slightly taken aback by the response. Not a hello, just a, ‘I wondered when you’d call.’ Evidently the woman was expecting it, but she was too tired to let it add to her problems. She hadn’t slept much after Natsu left— no surprise. She was still angry, but also confused, sad, and just mentally drained of life. Her friend agreed to come over in a bit, so Lucy dragged herself into the shower hoping it would make her feel better.

“Wow, you don’t look good,” Levy remarked at her friend.

“Hi to you too,” Lucy mumbled as she moved to the side to let her friend in. “Who would after a fight?”

Once settled on the couch, Levy went straight to the point before Lucy could even begin. “I already know what this is about. I know Natsu’s side, so start with yours.”

“Wow— okay, well—” Lucy pulled her legs up and tucked them underneath her body in a protective mode. “He tried to tell me to stop writing and I thought that was bullshit,” she said bluntly.

Levy’s brow raised. “Is that exactly what he said? To stop writing?”

“W-Well no, but that what he implied!”

“What did he say exactly?”

Lucy looked away, a scowl growing on her face and to hide the renewed moisture in her eyes. “He said I’m pushing everyone away.”

“And you don’t agree?”

“No! I’m not choosing my career over everyone! It’s ridiculous to even imply that I would!”

“Lu, do you still love your husband?”

“Of course, I love him!”

“Are you sure he knows you still love him?”

“I—” Lucy crossed her arms over her chest and sunk further into the couch mumbling. “I don’t see why he wouldn’t.”

“I can tell you, he doesn’t. Lu, you’ve pushed all of us away.”

“So, you’re taking his side?!”

“No. I’m giving you reality. You’ve been wrapped up in your fictional world so much that you’ve forgotten this one and the real people in it.”

“I—” Lucy turned away to hide the tears slowly starting to trickle down her face. “I never meant to…”

“I know…” Levy placed a hand on her friends leg. “Lu, we all know. He knows, but he’s hurting and it’s in your power to fix this.”

“But how?! I can’t just stop writing. I have deadlines and— you know, its a lot of work to put a story together.”

“You have to find a balance. Right?” Levy coaxed. “You have to take breaks. You have to relax sometimes. Natsu’s not asking you to stop, and he knows there will be times you really can’t stop. But it can’t be all the time, and right now it’s all the time.”

“I know…”

“Girl when was the last time you…” Levy wiggled her brows and grinned. “You know.”

Lucy blushed. “Too long.”

“Well?!” Levy laughed. “Are you finally getting our point?”

“Yeah,” Lucy sighed. “I got tunneled vision.”

Levy leaned in, adding pressured from the hand on Lucy’s leg and a softening in her voice. “And it put your marriage in jeopardy. But it’s not too late to fix it.”

The tears exploded from Lucy. “I told him… when he left, I-I told him don’t come back.” She buried her face in her hands as the sobbing took control. “I-I was screaming at him… so angry, I just lost it and—”

Levy pulled Lucy into a hug. “Shhh,” she held tight. “I’m sure he knew you didn’t mean it. Shh, it’s okay. Sometimes we say things we don’t mean when we’re mad. But you can still get him back, I’m certain of it.”

“H-how?!” Lucy sobbed into Levy’s shoulder. “He’s gotta be so mad at me!”

“Hun, Natsu’s more sad then mad. He needs to feel like you still love him.” Levy pulled away and cupped Lucy’s cheeks, staring, searching the woman’s eyes. “Can you tell him you love him?”

“I can tell him I love him,” Lucy sniffled.

“Then go tell him that!” She hugged her friend. “You’ll be okay Lu, you two are meant to last.”

“Thanks, Levy.”

“He’s at Gray’s right? Want me to drive you?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Levy smiled. “Now clean up a bit, I’ll wait in the car.”

The whole ride over to Gray’s house was the most nerve wracking experience in Lucy’s life. As she sat there huddled in Levy’s passenger seat, all the ways she could ever apologize tried to funnel through her head. She was a writer, and yet for the first time in a long time, all the words dried up or mashed together like a broken verse. Levy did her best to keep Lucy calm, reminding her that it’s all about being honest— just let your heart do the talking for once and not her head.

“You got this,” Levy patted Lucy’s shoulder before she exited the vehicle.

Lucy sure hoped she did. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Seconds ticked by and with each chime, all the weight and worry crept closer to sending her over. He was mad. Too mad. He probably won’t answer…

Finally someone did. “You came?” Natsu’s voice was soft and low, his eyes still bloodshot and worn.

“I came,” Lucy hung her head in shame. “I’m sorry— F-For everything, Natsu please come home, I miss you. I love you more than my job, and I’m gonna make it up to you.”

“You always say that Lucy…”

Ouch. Straight through her heart. The tears broke free again as her knees weakened, causing her to fall against him. Natsu caught her, and she clung to him, gripped to his shirt. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please come home! I love you! Natsu please come home! I can change! I promise I’ll change!”

That’s when she felt his hold truly tighten around her body and his head come to rest against her own. Lucy sobbed harder from the acceptance, pouring her heart in her words. “I love you… I love you so much, I’m so sorry….”

Natsu cradled her head and closed his eyes, voice soft with an upbeat to its tone. “Now there’s the woman I married.”

He held Lucy tightly until her sobbing slowed, eventually pulling away just enough to wipe the tear trails away. “Shall we go home now?”

Lucy nodded. “Please….”

#fairy tail #nalu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nalu au #nalu fan fic #nalu ficlet #nalu fan fiction #angst #asks and answers

[melzula]

Life Changing Field Trip

*part of the Fire Lililes series

pairing: Zuko x Princess!reader

warnings: heavy angst, lots of tears, fluff, 3.6k words in length so it’s a doozy

notes: it’s finally here! I’ve had so much fun writing this piece and I hope you enjoy

summary: “You cannot bend something that is broken, but you can heal something that is hurt.”

“You can’t just show up like that, give me a location, and then not tell me why or where I’m going,” you grumble to the moon as you load your bags onto Appa’s saddle. You’re not sure how long you’ll be gone or how far you’ll be traveling, but’s it better to be prepared.

Your bending had dwindled ever since Zuko’s arrival, and no amount of training or meditation ever seemed to help you get back on track. Zuko was a part of your team now, and you hadn’t forgiven him yet, not by a long shot, but you had been good about keeping your rage and your fury locked away inside of you. Scaring Zuko off and creating unnecessary tension wouldn’t help Aang with his fire bending, and so you kept to yourself and avoided the boy at all costs. When he entered a room you exited, if he tried to start a conversation you gifted him your silence as a response, and when he tried to apologize or chase after you you’d freeze his feet to the floor. It was simple and effective and, unlike your water bending, it worked.

But Zuko wasn’t the only obstacle in your life, and you knew you had to figure out your bending issue soon before the comet arrived. Your struggle must have been great enough to draw attention from the spiritual realm, because sure enough that night you were visited by the Moon Spirit in your sleep.

Even in your dream-like state your first instinct upon seeing her was to fetch Sokka, but she made it clear that she didn’t have much time. She gave you a location and stressed the urgency of your arrival to the coordinates. She gave no real explanation and no real direction, just some weird proverb like piece of advice that you were too tired and too dense to understand.

“You cannot bend something that is broken, but you can heal something that is hurt.”

You weren’t sure what exactly Princess Yue meant by that or how it would help you, and for a fleeting moment you wished Iroh were there to help you understand; all you really knew was that there was no time to waste. Whatever this location was and whatever importance it held, you were going, and nothing was going to stop you.

“What are you doing?”

Okay, maybe someone was going to stop you.

“It’s none of your business,” you retort harshly, glaring at Zuko who stands before you with bead head and drowsiness present upon his features. “Go back to sleep.”

“Y/n, come on,” Zuko begs earnestly. “You really expect me to just go back to bed when you’re about to sneak off with Appa in the middle of the night?”

“Yes, I do. Now go,” you scowl whilst settling yourself in the saddle and taking hold of the reigns. Your gaze is fixed straight ahead, but you make no move to go. It’s almost as if something is holding you back from leaving Zuko behind, anchoring you to him in a way that makes you nervous.

“Let me come with you.”

“I have to do this by myself. You wouldn’t understand, you never have,” you argue.

“Then let me try to,” Zuko pleads. “Princess, you’re the only one who hasn’t forgiven me yet. Neither of us can be happy until we at least try to fix it.”

A tense silence washes over the two of you as you mull over Zuko’s words. Princess Yue’s voice echoes in the back of your mind: You cannot bend something that is broken. Your resistance to mend your broken bond only seemed to make things worse for the both of you. You couldn’t sleep, you couldn’t eat, you couldn’t bend, you couldn’t feel at peace with yourself knowing that each day you pushed him away only led to more heartache. Your stubbornness and your pride kept you from accepting his apologies, but your heart cried out to you every time you found yourself missing him, and that was often.

It seemed your decision was made up for you before you were even able to decide it yourself.

“Fine. But I’m in charge, and just because I’m letting you come doesn’t mean we’re friends now,” you answer sternly, your tough exterior crumbling slightly at the sight of Zuko’s hopeful smile. Curse him and his stupid charm.

“Thank you,” he breathes in relief before climbing onto Appa’s back and settling down amongst the many bags of food you packed. A gentle utterance of the words yip yip and you’re off into the skies, truly alone with Zuko for the first time since Ba Sing Se before everything fell apart.

The stars twinkle brilliantly as they watch over your little group in the sky, the night breeze gently flowing through your loose locks and sending your sweet scent straight to Zuko’s senses. Despite being Princess of the Southern Water Tribe, you always smelled of fire lilies. You were sweet and warm and familiar, and being close enough to smell the scent of lilies reminded the prince of your nights together in Ba Sing Se. He had been a fool to throw it all away.

“So where are we going?” He asks finally to break the silence. Without turning to face him you toss your map over your shoulder for him to see. ”The Earth Kingdom? This spot isn’t even marked on a regular map. Why?”

“The Moon Spirit came to me in a dream and gave me those coordinates so that’s where I’m going.”

“The Moon Spirit? Wasn’t she a Princess?” Zuko asks, recalling the story Sokka had told him on their way to the Boiling Rock.

“Of the Northern Water Tribe,” you nod, and before you can stop yourself an admission tumbles past your lips. “You know, I almost left you during the Siege of the North.”

“What?”

“I was homesick and lonely, and you were always occupied with hunting the Avatar. When I saw what the Princess did to save her people I soon felt guilty too. Yue sacrificed her own life, her own happiness, to help her people, and what did I do? I ran away with the boy who was trying to destroy the world’s only hope for peace among Nations. But my love for you overcame my guilt, and so I stayed.”

“Wow...” Zuko murmurs in astonishment. “I didn’t know...”

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot of things you don’t know,” you grumble, immediately closing yourself off again. Zuko sighs sinking further into the saddle, and the scent of fire lilies consumes him.

After three tense hours of flying Appa begins to tire, and you’re left with no choice but to stop for the night and rest. There’s probably only four hours of darkness remaining until sunrise, so you’ll be able to get a decent amount of sleep before you have to resume your travels. You say nothing to Zuko as you roll out your sleeping bag and immediately tuck yourself in for the night. However, due to the cool and frigid air, you find that you’re much to cold to be comfortable, and so you toss and turn for a good ten minutes.

“Cold?” Zuko asks gently.

“No, I just like to shiver in my sleeping bag for fun,” you retort sarcastically, and Zuko rolls his eyes. A small huff of air falls past your lips and it takes you a minute to muster up the will to apologize. “Sorry,” you grumble. “I’m very cold and tired.”

“Would you like me to help?” He offers carefully. A beat passes before he hears the sound of you shuffling around and pulling back the covers of your sleeping bag.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you point out firmly, and the Prince bites back a smile as he crawls in beside you. Already you can feel the warmth that radiates off of his body, and you can’t stop the little sigh of contentment that escapes you when Zuko wraps his arms around your trembling figure and brings you into his chest.

“Better?”

“Much,” you hum softly, face nuzzling into the crook of his neck as you try to soak up as much heat as you can.

You hate to admit it, but you really missed being in Zuko’s embrace. He was warm and safe, and it reminded you of the times before when you had still been together. During the first few weeks of your separation you had struggled to fall asleep, not used to being on your own and definitely not used to the absence of warmth that often slept beside you. Sometimes you’d wonder if Zuko also lied awake at night seeking your comfort, but your anger was quick to remind you that he was the one who had left you in the first place. It was Zuko who made you second priority to the Avatar, and it was Zuko who chose to turn against you in Ba Sing Se. Shivers tingle down your spine, and this time it isn’t the cold that has you trembling. He betrayed you once, and he could betray you again.

Zuko falls fast asleep with you in his embrace, but you find that you can’t sleep at all.

~~~

The snowfall is light outside as you anxiously sit through your healing class, constantly glancing towards the doorway in hopes of spotting a Fire Nation ship. The Fire Lord was due for another visit today, and that meant you’d get to spend the day with Prince Zuko.

“Princess, pay attention,” the healer chides, and you sheepishly turn your gaze back to the old woman before you.

“Water is a powerful tool for benders, used to hurt and to heal,” she explains. “Water benders fight to protect themselves and those around them. Soldiers with this gift learn how to use their power to defend our home. But these same soldiers cannot use the bending they would use in a fight to heal a wound.“

The little girls around her watch in awe as the water in her palms glows a gentle hue. She smiles, gracefully swirling the water through the air.

“A rough hand will only bring more pain and heartache. But a gentle hand? A gentle hand can mend even the deepest of wounds. As healers you must remember this: You cannot bend something that is broken, but you can heal something that is hurt.”

You wake slowly, eyes gradually adjusting to the sunlight that shines against your fatigued face. The ground underneath you has been replaced by the leather of Appa’s saddle, and you find yourself warmly wrapped in Zuko’s cloak. The boy in question is seated at the reigns, navigating his way through the clouds and towards the abandoned colony.

“Zuko?” You yawn, catching the prince’s attention. He smiles faintly at the sight of you sleepily wrapping his cloak tighter around your form.

“Good morning,” he says. “I didn’t want to wake you but I know how important it is that we get to the Earth Kingdom as soon as possible. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I... I guess I don’t,” you mumble as you rub the sleep from your eyes before digging into your bag for some breakfast.

“We should be there in about an hour.”

You only nod, looking down at the peach in your hand contemplatively. What awaits you at the abandoned colony? Will it help you regain your bending? Will you like what you find?

The journey goes by quickly when you’re lost in your thoughts, and before you even realize it Appa has landed on the ground and Zuko is helping you off the saddle.

“Good boy, Appa,” you murmur affectionately, gently combing your fingers through his fur as you feed him an entire bag of fruit. “You can stay here for now.”

Leaving the flying bison behind Zuko and yourself walk the rest of the way, finally stumbling upon the exact location the Moon Spirit had given you: a cave entrance.

“Spirits, not another cave,” you groan, and from beside you Zuko blushes in uncomfortable embarrassment. With a heavy sigh you grab Zuko’s wrist and give it a shake until he gets the message, a small flame igniting in the palm of his hand. Holding onto his arm as if he’s your personal torch, you begin your descent through the cave. This better be good.

Unlike your secret tunnel, there’s nothing seemingly special about this cave. It’s dark and dirty not romantic whatsoever, which you figure is good because this isn’t a romantic trip anyway. You’re here per Princess Yue’s instructions only and nothing else, and if Zuko doesn’t like it you have no problem freezing his feet to the floor for what will probably be the thousandth time.

“What do you think you’ll find?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m hoping that whatever it is, it‘ll help my bending,” you murmur thoughtfully.

“Maybe we’ll find another secret tunnel,” Zuko jokes with a quiet laugh that immediately fizzles out at your unamused glare. “Sorry.”

“I doubt that stupid tunnel is even there anymore,” you grumble.

“It is... I checked,” the boy murmurs thoughtfully, causing you to halt in your tracks.

“What?”

“When I returned home from Ba Sing Se I went to Elza’s end of the tunnel and found it still intact. I knew there was no way you’d be there, but I traveled to our meeting point and stayed there,” he confesses quietly, eyes soft and apologetic as they turn to face you. You shift uncomfortably under his gaze and look forward, continuing your pace through the tunnel. “I’m really sorry for how much I’ve hurt you, y/n.”

“Why did you do it?” You question. Your voice is weak and frail and your eyes glisten with tears, and Zuko doesn’t think his heart can hurt any more than it does now. “After everything we’d been through and everything we’d accomplished together, why would you betray me like that? I loved you Zuko.”

“I-“

“And then to betray Iroh? Your own flesh and blood?”

“I know it was wrong, and I wish I could take everything back. I never stopped thinking about you y/n. Even when I was with Mai, all I could see was your face in the cave looking at me with disappointment and-“

“Wait a minute, who’s Mai?” You retort, pulling away from the fire bender to look up at him with furrowed brows. Zuko’s face flushes and immediate regret fills him at having mentioned the girl.

“I umm.. After we broke up, I kind of started seeing someone else,” he admits sheepishly whilst nervously grasping at the back of his neck. The sight of your complete rage and fury makes him wish he was being swallowed whole by an unagi instead of having to face an angry Princess.

“I can’t believe you!” You cry in outrage. “I spent weeks crying over you and you just moved on to another girl like nothing!”

“She didn’t mean anything, I promise-“

“I don’t want to hear it, get away from me!” You demand, picking up your pace to try and get away from him as quickly as you can, but Zuko is hot on your heels.

“Princess, please!” You try to freeze his feet to the floor and let out a frustrated growl as your bending fails you yet again. “Just let me explain!”

“No! I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen!” You command, angrily jabbing a finger at his chest. “I left my people, my family, for you. When you pushed me aside on your hunt for the Avatar, I stayed even though I was unhappy. I stood by you despite all the mean and cruel things you did because I knew deep in my heart that you were still the same Prince I fell in love with. And when we got to Ba Sing Se I thought we could finally have the life we had planned together. Working in your uncle’s tea shop, taking walks through the upper ring at night, being able to enjoy myself without having to worry about what terrible thing you’d do next made me the happiest I’d ever been.”

“And then you threw it all away. For what? Honor? Approval from the man who abused you? Using my bending against you was the hardest thing I’d ever done in my entire life, yet you seemed to have no problem with fighting me the minute Azula asked you to. I knew then that you weren’t Zuko, not the Zuko I fell in love with.”

Tears steadily stream down both of your faces, your throat is raw and sore from yelling but you don’t care. You’re angry, you’re upset, you’re hurt, and you’re afraid of the emotions festering inside of you. But you also feel good, like a weight is slowly being lifted off of you.

“And then to hear you moved on to someone else so quick as if I meant nothing to you?!”

“I’m sorry,” Zuko offers weakly.

“You betrayed me, you broke my trust, you broke my heart, but no matter how hard I try I can’t bring myself to hate you because I love you Zuko! Despite it all I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything or anyone, and when I think about where we came from and where we are now I-I just...”

You burst into a fit of tears and welcome Zuko’s comforting arms that wrap around your figure and squeeze you so tightly to his chest. Your shoulders shake with each sob that falls past your lips, your hands clutch tightly at the fabric of his robes, and you bury your face into his chest to muffle your sobs. The boy says nothing for a long time, only holding you and soothing you to the best of his abilities as you let out all of your hurt, anger, and sorrow.

“I’m sorry I never realized how special you were and how much I truly needed you. Nothing I say can ever undo the hurt I’ve caused you, but I’ll do anything to show you just how much you mean to me. I love you y/n, you’re my other half. Uncle always said our love was a balance of yin and yang, and he was right.” You watch through your tears as Zuko takes both of your hands in his own and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Please, Princess.”

You sniffle, blinking away the tears as you gaze up at Zuko’a pleading gaze. The tricky proverb comes to mind again, only this time it isn’t as tricky. Ever since Zuko joined the Gaang you’d done everything in your power to keep him away to protect yourself, but it only made your heartbreak worse. Defensive maneuvers wouldn’t ease your pain, but offensive would. You cannot bend something that is broken, but you can heal something that is hurt. The water bender in you wanted to push him out, but the healer inside of you knew that this moment in the cave was exactly what you needed to finally feel okay again.

Without responding, you simply lean up and press your lips against Zuko’s in a loving kiss. His hands come to rest upon your tear stained cheeks as he bring you closer, kissing you so desperately it’s almost as if he’ll die if he doesn’t have his lips upon yours. The tunnel around you begins to glow, but you don’t realize this until after you’ve pulled away from each other. A tearful smile graces your lips and Zuko finds himself swooping in for another quick kiss.

“I know why the Moon Spirit sent us here,” you sniffle. “I know where we are now.”

“You do?”

“When I was younger my mother would threaten to send me to the cave of truths whenever I told a lie. It was a magical cave said to not only pull out the most personal truths of anyone who set foot inside but also grant them a lesson in exchange for their truth. My truth was my love for you, Zuko, and I learned that shutting you out is never going to fix things. Only by letting you in again, by allowing you the chance to redeem yourself, will we be able to fix our broken hearts.”

With a gentle smile, you pull the droplets of water from the air that surrounds you and swirl them gently in the palm of your hand until they freeze into snowflakes. Zuko watches in awe as the snow takes the shape of a butterfly, its wings flapping elegantly as it lands on the tip of his nose.

“My bending is back.” Zuko smiles.

“And so are you.”

~~~

The Gaang is waiting for you when you return, astonished at the sight of your intertwined hands and happy smiles on your features.

“What happened to you two?” Suki asks.

“Life changing field trip,” you reply with a simple shrug, smiling as Zuko wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Aw man, you guys are giving me the oogies,” Sokka groans only for Katara to elbow his side.

“What changed?” Aang asks, prompting you and Zuko to exchange glances.

“Our relationship has a really good track record with secret tunnels,” you giggle.

“We’re both ready to start over,” Zuko says. “It’s going to take some time for things to be normal again, but we’ll get there.”

“I’m really happy for you guys,” Katara smiles gently.

“Yeah, I was getting kind of sick of the two of you moping around,” Toph grins, and you can’t help but return the smile.

You’ve got a long journey of healing ahead of you, but with Zuko finally back by your side you know you can accomplish anything.

| tags: @titaniafire @dekahg @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @multi-fandomstan @eridanuswave @royahllty @lozzybowe @izzieserra @melacholy @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @kittenthekat1234567890 @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @coldlilheart @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 |

#zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #princess reader #atla #atla x reader #avatar the last airbender #forbidden lovers au #fire lilies #secret tunnel #life changing field trip!

[grilledcheeseandguavajelly]

maybe “I don’t dress up anymore. That’s for kids” for Mildred (and Gwen?) 🥺

Okay first of all, this is the first thing I’ve written for Mildred x Gwen and for some reason my brain went “hey you know what’d be fun? Let’s write it from Gwen’s POV” so yeah. That happened. And then this happened. I hope you like it!! I got a bit carried away 🙈

Special thanks to @welshdragonrawr for coming up with this idea and being so kind about me writing it down by accident. And also to @flungoutofspacebelivets for drawing Mildred and Gwen in these costumes and getting that incredible image stuck in my head.

~Happy Halloween, my little peaches! 🍑🎃✨~

“She’s Good and She’s Bad and She’s All I’ve Got” -- Gwendolyn Briggs x Mildred Ratched

World Count: ~3,000

Warnings: None

“I don’t want to do that.” 

It was maybe the fourth time those words had come out of Mildred’s mouth, always directed at Gwendolyn and always spaced out the same way. With the same inflection. 

And the same hurt followed in their wake every time. 

“Alright,” Gwendolyn tried, fingers playing over the seam at her knee. “Alright, it was just a suggestion. We don’t have to—“

“I don’t dress up anymore. That’s for children.” 

And the way it came out of her mouth, so simple, so nonchalant. Like it was a rule of the universe and Gwendolyn was stupid not to understand. 

She almost snapped, almost lost her patience. But for some reason the words wouldn’t come, and so she sat in silence, staring down into her lap as Mildred’s eyes bored a hole in her head. 

“I thought it might be fun, that’s all,” Gwendolyn tried softly. 

But Mildred didn’t respond, and the air hung between them, and it was only after Gwendolyn heard the rustle of fabric being pinched and pulled, the soft scrape of nails against skin, that she looked up. 

Oh. 

The heat under Mildred’s eyes was gone, gaze gathered up and toppled off and falling somewhere distant. Not quite past Gwendolyn, not quite at the wall. 

Her fingers skimmed up the side of her arm, scratching softly as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. 

“Mildred,” Gwendolyn tried carefully, hands smoothing over her knees. And when Mildred didn’t respond, Gwendolyn was up, crossing the room to her and bundling her up in her arms. 

There was a second’s hesitation. Just like there always was. Where Gwendolyn would pause and search her face and smooth her hands down her arms. But when no resistance came, she had Mildred tucked safely against her in seconds, holding her head against her shoulder and rubbing a hand slowly down her back. 

Mildred sniffled, fingers finding Gwendolyn’s waist and twisting tightly into the extra fabric that pooled there. 

“It’s alright, you’re okay,” Gwendolyn cooed, shushing Mildred softly and scratching lightly at her scalp. 

Another sniff, the smallest of whimpers, and then Mildred broke, deflating in Gwendolyn’s arms as the tears fell and she shook around gasps. 

“I don’t want to do that,” Mildred whimpered, her voice pitched up that soft way it always did when she cried, thick with tears and sticking against sobs. 

And as Gwendolyn held her tight and stroked her hair and pushed kisses to her temple, trying any and every way to calm her down, a light went off somewhere in her memory, and everything clicked together. 

She cleared her throat, pulling away from Mildred just so and ducking to meet her eyes. They were squeezed shut, though, so she hooked a finger under her chin and raised her face to look at her, kissing her nose. 

Mildred’s eyes fluttered open and Gwendolyn grinned at her, brow pushed up as she brushed a thumb over her bottom lip. 

Trying to distract herself from that hurt that came springing back into her chest, hot and sour and stabbing. Trying to distract Mildred from the inevitable pity that she couldn’t quite keep from her eyes. 

“Tell me?” Gwendolyn whispered, searching Mildred’s eyes. Because she knew. This was delicate. This fraction of a moment, where Mildred’s past was right here, consuming her from bottom to top. She had pulled her walls up tight, she had let them crumble down. And now, this was the third part. 

Either she would take a deep breath and open her mouth and let everything fall out, completely raw, or her hand would slide into Gwendolyn’s and she would close her eyes and close off her heart, and Gwendolyn would take her to bed or to the couch and hold her until she fell asleep. 

It hadn’t happened many times. Gwendolyn could probably count them on one hand. But there was something about this woman, something about the way she built herself up from ground level and pulled her layers on, starting deep around her heart and finishing with gloves and a matching hat. Gwendolyn couldn’t take her eyes off of her. And maybe she was going crazy. Maybe Mildred made her crazy. But she wanted to memorize every tiny detail until Mildred blinked and Gwendolyn knew exactly what she was thinking. 

So she made it a point to pay attention. Deep down, she had this instinct that it was what Mildred needed. Wanted. Someone to pay attention, who was desperate to learn. Someone who took the time and took the care and wanted all of her, no matter what. 

And so she tried her best with the masterpiece before her. Tried her best to be patient and kind and never push too far. Not after Mildred had been so vulnerable with her. 

It was almost funny, given how easy it had been to lose her temper with her at the beginning. When they had just started and she didn’t know hardly anything about her, had never seen those deep layers. That day her whole life had flashed before her eyes, Mildred standing right there in her sitting room, in the same shirt she had worn when she had broken Gwendolyn’s heart. When she had stormed out of that bar and looked at Gwendolyn with such... disgust. And then she was back, and so much time had gone by, so much had happened, and Gwendolyn was preparing to die. Slowly. Alone. And Mildred had walked straight through her front door and saved her. 

And from that moment, she had always tried to do her best with her. Had always tried to be patient, as Mildred always was with her. And she had always tried to understand, even though she knew she never could. 

Which is why, when Mildred’s fingers started falling from her waist down towards her hand, Gwendolyn mentally prepared herself to hold Mildred through the night, turning their porch lights off and cooing at her every time she inevitably jumped when the neighborhood children knocked on the door. 

Gwendolyn was already thinking about how quickly she could scoop Mildred up and take her upstairs before she completely shut down, when Mildred stopped, fingers skimming over her wrist, and took a long breath in. 

Gwendolyn froze, pulling back just so and waiting. Waiting. 

Mildred worried her lip between her teeth, fingers brushing absently over Gwendolyn’s arm and eyes pinned to the floor. And when she sighed the breath out and raised her eyes to Gwendolyn, pupils dilated and opening deep windows into her soul, Gwendolyn swallowed. Centered herself. And threw every single thought out of her mind until she was centered entirely in this moment, in this woman. 

“Do you remember,” Mildred started slowly, eyes flicking down to Gwendolyn’s shoulder as her fingers found the line of her blazer and rubbed up and down and up again. “When I told you about the puppet theatre...”

Gwendolyn nodded, that searing heat back with a vengeance and pressing against her heart. 

“And do you remember when I told you that Edmund used to have to—“

She cut off and Gwendolyn threaded their fingers together, nodded as she cupped Mildred’s cheek with her other hand. 

“I remember, darling. I remember everything.”

Mildred leaned into her hand, eyes dropping shut against tears that fell too fast and too hard against her cheeks. And when Gwendolyn reached out to swipe them with her thumb, Mildred bit into her lip and her fingers tapped over Gwendolyn’s jacket, pushing and pricking and letting out all of her nervous energy. 

“I never had a Halloween. Edmund nor I. Not until we got to their house. Sometimes, at the old houses, we would sneak a chocolate from the kitchen or go to the local store, and Edmund would distract the cashier while I grabbed a candy bar or two. I would hide them in my coat, under my bed, beneath a floorboard. Anywhere, as long as no one would find them. And then we would share them, deep into the night. Save them for those bad days where the future seemed impossible. Just for a piece of hope.”

Gwendolyn barely moved, barely breathed. Tried as hard as she could to keep herself still and let Mildred get everything out. 

“When she told me... that I got to dress up? I was elated. I was finally going to get to be a normal little girl. I was finally going to feel special. Pretty.”

“Mildred...” Gwendolyn murmured, thumb tracing her cheekbone almost against her will. 

But Mildred only shook her head, patting Gwendolyn’s jacket with a sad smile and moving towards the couch. 

She sat down effortlessly, just like she always did, and Gwendolyn had to physically stop herself from going into that deep introspective place, where she wondered and worried and wanted to understand just how someone so broken could seem so perfectly composed day after day, year after year. 

Impossible. 

Gwendolyn hadn’t realized she had hesitated until Mildred whispered her name, eyes wide and pleading as she pulled her knees to her chest and burrowed herself down into the corner of the couch. 

But then she snapped back to reality, to Mildred’s hand reaching for her and tears clouding her eyes with unasked pleas. 

Sit with me. Stay with me. Don’t leave me when I love you like this. 

Gwendolyn’s fingers were threading with hers in an instant, sitting down opposite her on the couch and holding her hand between them. Thumb brushing lightly over her wrist. But she didn’t dare pull Mildred closer. Not yet. She needed space to breathe if she was going to finish this. 

“I did feel pretty, you know. That first time.” Mildred’s chin wobbled, but she held her composure, nails digging just a bit too hard into Gwendolyn’s hand. “She came to my room with the biggest, kindest smile I can remember. Dressed me up in a beautifully simple white nightgown and sat me down at the vanity and brushed my hair.”

Her fingers came up and touched the neat little bun at the base of her neck, delicately, like she could still feel the woman’s hands threading through it. 

“I looked like a perfect little doll,” Mildred whispered, and suddenly Gwendolyn felt tears in her own eyes. Because oh this woman. This poor little girl trapped inside of a fully formed human. Still so broken and wanting and needy, grabbing for anything and everything to hold herself still and hold herself together. 

It had taken too long, but Gwendolyn had found the vulnerable little bird fluttering around in Mildred’s heart, almost too weak to fly anymore. Her hope almost extinguished. The darkness of those cages she had placed around it enough to suffocate the fragile thing and stop its wings from beating. 

And yet here she was. Never stopping. Never giving up, no matter how impossible life seemed. So strong and optimistic and brave from such a young age. Gwendolyn didn’t think she could have done it. Not when she was that little, focusing on things that seemed so trivial now, like school and friends and trick or treating— 

A knot twisted in Gwendolyn’s stomach and she cleared her throat softly, her other hand coming to cover Mildred’s. 

“We don’t have to do anything today,” Gwendolyn tried softly. “I am so sorry. I had no idea.”

But to her surprise, Mildred shook her head. “No, it’s not that— I want to dress up, Gwendolyn. I want to have the Halloween that I never got as a child. I want to do it because you want to do it. And I think... I think it could be fun.”

And just like that, it happened again. Gwendolyn was completely surprised by this woman. Shocked and flipped on her head and completely lost. Completely in awe. 

“You do?” She asked softly, afraid to scare her off, afraid to push her too hard and trigger something and hurt her in any way, however unintentional. 

But Mildred only nodded, a small smile playing across her lips. 

Gwendolyn was across the couch in a second, bundling Mildred up in her arms. And Mildred broke. Just like that. The tears came hard and fast and then she was clinging to Gwendolyn, fingers gripped so tightly into her arm that there would absolutely be bruises tomorrow. But Gwendolyn hardly noticed. All she comprehended was this enigma before her, so raw and open and vulnerable after closing herself off so many times, after shutting so many people out. She always let Gwendolyn in. She always tried. Somehow, after Gwendolyn had been shot, everything had changed. She was softer, she put so much effort into every decision that she made.  

Gwendolyn could see the way she constantly warred with herself. Could see it behind her eyes or in the little way her fingers would pick at her sleeve or pull at the seam of the couch or fidget on her fork when they ate. 

But no matter what happened, no matter how closed off she seemed, Mildred always tried, and she was opening up, slower and slower. Bit by bit. 

Mildred gasped against her chest and Gwendolyn cooed at her, stroking her hair so softly it could have been glass. She pressed kisses anywhere she could reach, her hair or her temple or her cheek. And eventually Mildred’s breathing steadied out.

She huffed out long breaths as her fingers loosened on Gwendolyn’s arms and then she was skimming them down, across, over her shoulders. Pulling Gwendolyn into a proper hug. 

“I want to do this for you...” Mildred whispered, and Gwendolyn’s heart skipped a beat.

“We don’t have to, darling. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. We can go upstairs and I can get a bottle of wine and we can have a nice night in—“

And this time it was Mildred who shushed her, pulling back to look her in the eye. 

“I want to. I want to at least try.” 

Gwendolyn found herself nodding at the sincerity of Mildred’s gaze. The soft, pliable way her words came out of her. So honest. 

“Alright.”

And Mildred smiled again. This time bigger. Wider. Her tongue peeked out behind her teeth and her eyes crinkled at the corners. 

“Good.”

And Gwendolyn found herself beaming, in spite of everything. 

“Good.”

~~~ 

It hadn’t taken long to get her upstairs and sat in the vanity chair. Hadn’t taken long to convince her to unpin the bottom of her hair and let it fall loose around her shoulders. 

It had taken a bit of convincing for Mildred to put on the dress Gwendolyn had bought for her, black and velvet and just a bit shorter than it should have been. 

It had taken even more convincing to get her into the fishnet stockings, Mildred looking at her like she had three heads before Gwendolyn smirked and laid them out on the bed, an idea forming. 

Gwendolyn had left her there with a small kiss to her lips, pulling her costume on quickly in the bathroom and fluffing out her curls. And when she returned, witch’s hat in hand, Mildred’s mouth practically fell open. And suddenly she didn’t seem to have an issue with the stockings, as long as Gwendolyn was kissing up her leg as she pulled them on for her. 

After that it had been easy. The heels, the little black ribbon tied around her throat. And Mildred even ducked her head with a small smirk as Gwendolyn set the cat-eared headband atop her head, careful to mind her pins and her curls and not to pull anything too tight. 

She had placed Mildred in front of the vanity mirror, pressing soft kisses to her neck as Mildred admired herself. 

“See? You’re beautiful.”

Mildred had scoffed, shaking her head and lowering her gaze, but Gwendolyn was right there, reaching around her and tilting her chin back up and turning Mildred’s head to the side so that she could kiss her properly. 

“You’re stunning.”

The doorbell rang before Gwendolyn could get Mildred’s dress off, as heated as the kiss had gotten, and Mildred had giggled as Gwendolyn huffed and fussed over her hair and her hat, trying to get it into something presentable after Mildred’s hands had torn through it like a lifeline. 

But as frustrated as Gwendolyn had been with all of that, cursing herself for picking out such a risqué dress for Mildred and for getting her into those tights when she would have to wait the entire night to get her to herself, everything melted away the second Mildred opened the front door. 

Gwendolyn was just at the base of the stairs, stopping in her tracks as Mildred’s eyes widened and she took a small step back, almost twenty kids piled on their doorstep. 

But instead of yelling “trick or treat”, they all stood silent, eyes big as saucers as they stared at her. And then one girl, no more than seven or eight, spoke up. 

“Wow... you’re beautiful.”

Mildred stiffened for a moment, glancing back at Gwendolyn for reassurance. But Gwendolyn only smiled, brow raised as she dared Mildred to question the child. 

And then Mildred beamed, reaching over to the credenza and grabbing the bowl of candy Gwendolyn had set out. She let out a soft “thank you” before dropping candy in the little girl’s bag, in each of the bags, one by one, complimenting the children’s costumes like she had done this a million times. 

And somehow, when Mildred waved goodbye and shut the door and set the candy bowl down, turning to face Gwendolyn with the biggest smile in the universe plastered across her face, almost dazed by the compliment and the experience and the normalcy of it all, Gwendolyn thought that they might just share a million more Halloweens after all. 

And that might just be the best thing in the world. 

Tag List: @thatgirlintheleatherjacket @shineestark @duchessfics @darling-dontforgetme @midnight-lestrange @nerdaroo @pradababey @mssallymckenna

#ratched #ratched fanfiction #Mildred ratched #nurse ratched #mildred x gwendolyn #mildred ratched x gwendolyn briggs #Gwendolyn Briggs #fanfic #fanfiction #Sarah Paulson #cynthia nixon #ratched imagine #Halloween #Halloween prompt #ask me anything #fanfic prompt #ratched Halloween #angst #fluff

[pasteljeon]

don’t need ur love (m)

❥ pairing: ot7/reader

❥ warnings: some vague descriptions of sex, just really angsty sorry :(

❥ based on this prompt: bts being in a relationship with y/n but then slowly all of them fell out of love with her and with another girl. from @/armyforlifelove :”)

❥ summary: four lessons on love.

❥ notes: exams are finally over so i’m super excited to share my upcoming projects soon <3 i hope you enjoy this little ficlet and lmk what you think!

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.

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One. Love is fickle.

There is not one boy, there are seven.

“Jimin, I’m not angry. I don’t blame you. You don’t feel the same for me anymore. I accept that. I can’t do anything about it, and I’m not going to sink down and beg you to love me. I know my own worth. I am worth loving, I am worth being cherished and treasured.” You give his cheek one last fond pat, smiling lopsidedly as you pick up the handle of your suitcase.

His lips are downturned, eyebrows pinched and body stiff.

They watch with mirroring expressions of guilt and sorrow as you give the place a final, lingering sweep. But there is also relief and gratitude. You have never been the petty type, never been vindictive. You have always been the mature one, the fun one, the level-headed one.

You say, “Thank you for the memories. I’ll see you around.”

Jimin opens his mouth, like he’s ready to apologize again, but all that comes out is an uncertain, “You too.”

The penthouse is the same as always, clothes scattered on couches and loveseats and hung over the dining table chairs. Yeontan’s toys lying in a pile next to his little bed. Your mug, your clothes, your books and papers, they’re all gone. It’s like you were never here.

The door shuts quietly.

.

.

.

You fall in love in summer.

They pluck you from the crowd, these gorgeous boys, and they carve a space in your heart and fill it with them, until your chest feels so full and warm.

You’re happy for a long time. Winters pass. Spring blooms, so lovely and sweet and it makes your nose itch. They’re soft and kind and their touch is reverent, sometimes bold and daring and always loving.

Then it stops.

He’s distant, shifty-eyed and avoids you like the plague. Slowly, they all become just as detached. And you realize.

Time’s up.

He cries and cries and begs for forgiveness, he buries his face in your stomach and his hands are shaky and cold. He’s sorry, he sobs. He’s sorry he fell in love with someone else.

Yeah, you think. You’re sorry too, because you could have saved yourself from it if you’d only looked hard enough.

Taehyung is the only one that stays with you that night. You send Jimin away, too anguished and defeated to comfort him.

He’s the last one, the one whose heart still flutters when he talks to you, touches you. But you know. You know that eventually, he will leave too.

He kisses your tears away and he holds you close, murmuring sweet nothings until you finally fall into fitful sleep, and his stomach hurts, hurts so much with the way you’re curled into him, so small and fragile, clutching at his shirt as your eyes flicker with whatever dream you’re having.

And he swears he’ll never let you go, never betray you.

.

.

.

“It didn’t break me. How could it? I loved them so much, yes, but this isn’t the end. It’s not the be all end all. It can’t be. I believe that there’s more out there.” You stare into the dark contents of your drink, your reflection rippling across the surface as you trace the handle absently.

The person across from you watches you with a startlingly intense gaze, fingers crossed as they lean in, arms braced on the table.

“It was like … there was a bullet to my heart and a hole in my chest, and sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night drowning in anguish and tears burning in my eyes and cheeks wet. Sometimes it’s a struggle to breathe when I think of them, when I do something that reminds me so vividly of them.”

.

.

.

Two. Love is painful.

There were seven boys, now there is only one.

You press your forehead against his. Your voice is soft, your breath is warm and your words are sweet. He thinks he’s dying. Your ache is palpable, your grief burns, lighting a dull pain travels, throbbing and expanding, at the base of his spine.

“It’s weird because it’s not like you wake up one day with this sudden revelation that you’ve fallen out of love. It happens slowly, over a period of time, when the things you did before and the things you liked about your partner no longer holds the same charm. Suddenly, the small things that had made you fall so hard for them are annoying. Their laugh is too loud, too ugly. They leave their utensils in the sink, they forget to separate the lights with the darks They look … ordinary. Just like everyone else you pass on the street. Suddenly, they’re just … somebody. Just not somebody to you.”

“It’s okay, Taehyung. You loved me, and that was enough.”

He sobs out a garble that sounds like your name. He puts a hand over his face, shame and guilt overwhelming him like a tide that threatens to choke the life out of him completely.

You pry them away gently, and you kiss him. It’s wet and uncoordinated, lips slick and salty with your mingled tears.

You stumble into the bedroom, and he presses you against the mattress, hands heavy and hot as he makes love to you one last time. He pours everything into it, everything you’ve been through together, everything he feels for you. Slowly, slowly, because he’s saying goodbye. For real this time, because he can never look back without this weight of failure and guilt.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, he chants, like a broken record, he sears the movement of his lips into your skin and you bear the scar even as you close the chapter for good.

.

.

.

Three. Love changes you.

“But then it starts to fade. The hurt, it lessens with every day that passes. The tightness in your chest loosens and the world starts to regain some of its colour, your body begins to stomach more, your taste buds remind you that food can taste brilliant.”

You find retain old habits and find new hobbies. You reconnect with old friends, make new ones. You go out for dinner, drinks, dessert, the movies, to their houses for barbeque, the skating rink, rollerblading, the occasional club. Not all at once, never in quick succession, but you go when called, go when you ask.

You are reminded that you still have a life outside of the all-consuming romance.

You learn how to draw the perfect wing, you shop, you redecorate, you work, and at the end of the year, you take a two-week vacation to travel somewhere new. You take pictures, write stories, finish your thesis and you graduate.

You enjoy your life.

You still see them, on billboards, TV shows, concerts, YouTube videos, articles, your friends buzz with news about them, at first hesitantly and apologetically, now eagerly and excitedly.

You are proud of them, of where they’ve come, where they are, who they are and what they’ve accomplished. They are an inspiration, legends, and you are grateful to have shared a part of your life with them, to have been born in the same era as them, because this universe makes no mistakes.

And you move on.

You are living.

.

.

.

Four. Love is worth it.

It is worth every tear, the anger and sorrow, the loss and the sacrifice.

And sometimes, the world works in mysterious ways.

Sometimes, you go full circle, only to end up where you should have been from the very beginning.

“Is it too late, have we been through too much, have I lost you? Is it unfair for me to ask if we could start again? The moment you left, I knew … I knew I’d given up something good. Something beautiful and I wasn’t ready to commit, couldn’t see all that I had in front of me. I was foolish, I was … a coward.” He reaches out to touch your hand gingerly, barely a graze, gauging your expression. You don’t move, and he curls his fingers over your palm.

“I thought … I thought that it was natural for me to follow, I thought I felt something for her, but I was wrong, I was so wrong. God, you have no idea how much I hated myself for hurting you like that. I … I love you, I have loved you all this time, and I miss you. I miss your smile, your laugh, the way you hold me, the way you touch me, the way you can comfort me with just your presence. I miss the way you loved me. I missed … you. I miss the colour of your soul.”

“So, I was wondering. If it isn’t too late, if we haven’t been through too much, if I haven’t lost all of you yet, would it be fair to ask you to start over again with me?” His warmth is familiar, his eyes are a burnished gold and the truth is, you are strangers. So much time has passed, he looks a ghost from the past, he talks like him, walks like him, still hates bitter things like him, but he’s not him anymore. You know this because his expression is wiser, he has looked in the mirror and found himself and he is ready to try again. To do better, to dare to become someone better.

But is it too late? Are you ready for the risk of your heart being broken all over again?

Isn’t life a game of risk and reward?

You squeeze his hand gently. “I would like that.”

Taehyung beams. His smile is still boxy, his jaw line sharper, silky hair permed, and it flops over his forehead. He looks older, is older. He pushes the black locks back and strokes his thumb over your knuckles. He’s more comfortable in his own skin, you think his chest is wider, shoulders broader.

“Can I buy you a coffee?”

#smutcentralnet #ksmutclub #btsghostie #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #ot7 x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #jin x reader #taehyung smut #ggukienet #poly bts #bts angst #taehyung angst

[duskholland]

Say Goodnight | Harrison Osterfield

Summary ↠ you and Harrison broke up before he left to chase his dreams in Hollywood. With 5,000 miles between you, you’re both struggling to adjust to life without the other; exes to lovers; prompt: “why did you call me at 2 in the morning?”

Warnings ↠ angst with a happy ending, a breakup, one curse word?

Word Count ↠ 2.7k

A/N ↠ I miss Harrison. A lot. And I haven’t written enough for him, so...here ya go! This is definitely inspired by Ariana Grande’s song goodnight n go, which never fails to hit me in the feels (listen to the version from her live album... it’s magic).

This is also my fic for @t-holland2080​‘s writing challenge! Thanks so much for hosting such a fun challenge Sammy - I hope you enjoy this :)

(a repost because tumblr decided to block me out the tags lmao)

You didn’t think it was possible to cry this much.

Harrison’s standing in front of you, glistening tear tracks running down his rosy cheeks. His eyes shift over your face, guiltily running the lines and curves of your cheeks and your forehead, trying desperately to stay away from your eyes, because you both know that seeing the heartbreak reflected in his icy blue gaze will be too much. Your chest hurts and you’re shaking, but you know that everything he’s said is true. You know that breaking up is for the best.

But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“I still love you,” Harrison tells you quietly. He rocks back on his feet, his teeth grazing his lower lip before he adds, “I’ll always love you, Y/N. The timing just…”

“The timing isn’t right,” you finish. With shaky hands, you reach up behind your neck and your fingers fiddle with the clasp of the necklace Harrison had draped around you, all those months ago. He makes a small sound of objection as the chain falls heavily into your hands and you hold it out in front of you. “Keep it,” you urge. You finally let yourself meet his eyes, and you try to stay strong as you grab his hand and push the chain into his palm. “So you don’t forget about me whilst you’re off being a movie star.”

Harrison reluctantly pockets the chain, his eyes lingering on the solid curve of the H. “I could never forget about you, Y/N.”

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that the only way Harrison can pursue his dreams is 5,000 miles away, across the Atlantic in America. It’s even more unfair that you can’t go with him because you’re enrolled in university in London. But worst of all, neither of you signed up for a long-distance relationship when you first began dating, and now you’ve had to come to the mutual, heartbreaking decision that breaking up is going to be easier than stringing out a virtual relationship together. It doesn’t matter that you love Harrison more than you’ve ever loved another person, nor that he holds you so closely to his heart that he’s certain you’ve somehow intertwined yourself with his soul: long-distance is too much, and you both think you’ll be too busy to maintain your relationship. Neither of you want to sit by and watch your relationship break down.

So breaking up is simpler, supposedly.

“You should go,” you find yourself saying, swallowing down the lump in your throat. Your hand rests on your front door knob, the cool brass feeling icy against your warm skin. You use your other hand to sweep beneath your cheeks, trying to stop the endless flow of tears from your eyes. “Don’t want you to miss your flight, Haz.”

He runs his hand through his hair, a grimace spread across his face.

“I- Are you sure this is the right choice?” He asks, echoing the words you’ve both been saying for days.

You shrug helplessly. “I don’t know,” you admit. “But I know that I can’t stand here waiting for you to walk away any longer.” You release a deep breath. “Just go, Harrison. Please.”

And he looks like he really wants to stay. His feet twitch, as if he’s about to push his way back into your flat and throw himself down on the sofa like he’s done a thousand times before. But his eyes pass over your tearful, heart stricken face, and he finally sighs, slipping his hands into his back pockets as he manages a weak smile.

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he says softly, his lips curving around the words with ease. The way he says your name so fondly causes the pain in your chest to crack and expand.

“Bye, Harrison.”

And then he turns, slowly, and you watch as he drags his feet down the corridor. Harrison pauses when he reaches the staircase, one hand on the door as he casts his eyes back towards you. Your mouth twitches into a smile instinctively: the sight of his face, his loose blond curls, and his friendly smile never fails to make you feel warmer - even now, as he walks out of your life, taking a piece of your heart with him.

You raise your hand in a final wave, and then Harrison steels himself and walks through the door at the end of the corridor, leaving you standing alone in your doorway, a lump in your throat and a weight hanging so heavily in your heart that you know you won’t be forgetting him any time soon.

[-----]

Life without Harrison is hard.

Before you’d started dating him a year ago, you hadn’t believed love could feel so fulfilling or right. But then you’d stumbled into him at Tom’s birthday party and you’d immediately hit it off, and everything had changed. You think it would be hard not to instantly fall in love with Harrison: he’s charming, witty, and he carries such a bright light in his eyes that he had you hook, line, and sinker within the first ten minutes of your conversation.

As you try to move on, you find Harrison haunting your every move. You open Instagram and you see his posts and stories staring you right in the face, broadcasting his life out in LA with his new friends and castmates, and it stings. When you strike out and find yourself in the pub with Sam, all you can think about is how you used to frequent the place with him, and your eyes find the corner booth you’d used to sit in, your figure usually curled up in Harrison’s lap. You can almost feel the presence of his slender, delicate fingers wrapped around your waist as you gaze longingly at the booth.

And the most frustrating part of it all? Harrison seems fine. He seems completely unbothered, which just serves to twist the knife further into your chest every time your thumb hovers over his contact photo, or you start writing out a lengthy, emotional text. You’ve heard nothing from him, and it makes you question everything you’d thought you’d had together.

Everything changes one Wednesday night, around six weeks after Harrison had left.

You’re woken up by the loud, shrill ringing of your phone. You try to ignore it at first, groaning as you roll over on your side and try to press your head into your pillows, but it just keeps going, and it seems to rattle louder against your skull the longer it prattles on. So, after releasing a stream of your best expletives, you roll over and snatch it off your bedside table, accepting the call before you’ve even had time to check the caller ID.

“Hello?” You croak, clearing your throat immediately as you hear the fatigue hanging heavy in your throat.

“Y/N.”

Suddenly you’re wide awake.

“Harrison?!” You exclaim, sitting bolt upright. You bring your knees to your chest as you pull the duvet around you, trying to hide beneath the warm sheets as if they’ll protect you from the way that hearing his voice unleashes an onslaught of painful emotions. “What’s going on?”

Harrison doesn’t reply for a few moments, but merely the sound of his level, familiar breathing is enough to bring tears to your eyes. You try to push them away as your heart races in your chest, so many emotions flying through your heart that it feels consuming.

“Uh, nothing,” he eventually says softly. “Sorry. It doesn’t matter.”

“Then why did you call me at 2 in the morning?”

The sound of his chuckle is forced, but it’s so lovely to hear him again that you can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Oh, I didn’t realise it was so late,” he says, “‘m sorry, love.”

“It’s okay. I missed your voice.” It slips out before you can really stop it.

“I missed your voice too,” Harrison admits, voice thick. “I miss you so much, Y/N.”

You swallow deeply, running your fingers over the crinkles of your duvet as you think. Your mind runs slowly, clouded with your fatigue and your emotions, and you really don’t know how to take this all, but you know that hearing his voice makes you happy - more happy than you’ve felt in weeks.

“I miss you too,” you mumble down the line. Your fingers ache from how tightly you’re gripping the phone. “How’s LA?”

Harrison chuckles, and you hear a noise in the background as if he’s climbing into a bed. You can almost imagine him: his lanky legs spreading out over the sheets, a low groan slipping past his lips as he stretches out his arms and back. That lazy pink smirk hanging freely from his perfect lips. The image burns into your eyelids.

“LA is mad,” he tells you honestly. “It’s a whole different world over here, Y/N. It’s… It’s exciting, but it’s so different to London. I wish it would all slow down.”

“You’re really busy then?”

He hums lightly. “Yeah. I’m either on-set or doing fittings or rehearsals.”

“Are you having fun?”

Harrison takes a while to ponder your question.

“Yes,” he says, bringing a swell of tears to the front of your eyes. “But I’d be so much happier if you were here too.”

You try to disguise your sniffles, but you’re almost certain he can hear them. “Well… I’m not,” you manage. “I’m glad it’s giving you everything you wanted.”

There’s a very awkward, very thick silence that envelops the line, and it makes you shift uncomfortably in your sheets.

“I should let you sleep,” Harrison says, guilt lacing his words. “I’m sorry for waking you up. I shouldn’t have called you.”

“Oh, okay.” Your free hand clenches into a hard fist as you try to stop your lower lip from wobbling. “Don’t worry about it, Haz. I’m always here if you want someone to talk to.” A small smile flicks out across your lips. “Doesn’t matter what time it is.” I love you - those three unspoken words hang between you. You can feel them, surrounding you, smothering you, and you can almost hear them on the tip of Harrison’s tongue, so you jump in to add, “Goodnight, Harrison,” because you really can’t bear to hear them.

You can feel his reluctance, but you release a deep breath as he says, begrudgingly, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You hang up quickly, your fingers trembling as you toss the phone down the bed. The blank screen stares at you, taunting you, and you’re overcome with such a strong sense of regret that you almost reach out and call him back. Your body craves him - his soft, melodic voice, his gentle words, his love.

Your phone starts ringing, and you snatch it back up, eyes taking in the image of Harrison’s contact photo as he flashes over the screen. You accept it without a second thought.

“I don’t want to say goodnight yet,” Harrison says immediately, words falling into one another. “I don’t want to stop talking to you, Y/N. Can we please keep talking? Just for a bit.” He pauses, his voice breaking. “I miss you.”

The relieved smile on your face shows no sign of budging. “I don’t wanna say goodnight either, Haz.”

[-----]

It’s a bad habit, but for the entire time Harrison is away, you end up on the phone with him each evening. The first few times had been fairly spontaneous, but soon it becomes a habit: every day, as Harrison finishes filming, he gives you a call and you have a long, rambling conversation. It breaks up your sleep, but you grow so used to it that you start setting an alarm at 1.50am just so you can grab a cup of tea and wake yourself up before he calls.

It’s definitely inadvisable to stay so connected to your ex-boyfriend, but it feels too good to quit. Harrison is your drug, and every time you hang up the phone, you’re left feeling sad and hollow inside. But it eases the pain of having him so far away, and maybe a part of you deludes yourself by reasoning that your calls are helping you get over him: cutting him out completely was too hard, but maybe sharing these phone calls will help you. Eventually he’ll stop calling, and you’ll be able to heal, because you’ll have practised saying goodbye so many times it’ll feel normal.

But Harrison doesn’t stop calling, and you don’t stop answering, and soon enough, he’s been away for six months, and he’s preparing to move back to London, his film complete.

You don’t really know where you stand with him, if you’re being completely honest. He’s still your ex - but you’re still helplessly in love with him, and you’re fairly sure that most exes don’t spend hours on the phone each day, chatting and laughing like you’re still together. You try to bring it up with him, but every time you start the conversation, your heart clenches in your chest and you wimp out.

You ignore the difficult conversation for as long as you can - which lasts until you hear a loud knock on your front door, and you know that it’s him.

It feels almost like a gravitational pull, drawing you back to his figure. You’ve spent all day pacing your flat, fussing over your hair and your outfit, but for the entire time you’ve spent waiting on his flight arriving, you haven’t been sure if you’d be able to open the door and face him. But now you know that he’s here, your heart seems to act of your own accord.

You wrench your door open, and immediately you’re pulled into a tight, crushing hug. It knocks the air out of your lungs and you wheeze as you feel that familiar set of curls brushing up against your neck, and you feel a few tears slip from your eyes as you take it all in. He’s back.

“Haz,” you exclaim, your voice choked with tears. His hands move over your back, clinging to you, drawing you as close as possible as his rich, earthy cologne invades your system. It doesn’t even matter that his jacket has a collection of chilly raindrops clinging to the leather, because it feels so fucking perfect to have him so near you again that you can’t focus on anything other than him.

“I missed you,” he whimpers, as he pulls away from your neck. His large hands fall on your shoulders as he stares at you intently, his focused eyes whipping the air from your lungs. He looks so cute that you can’t really stop yourself from shifting closer and pressing your lips to his. Immediately you relax, and he does too, and he kisses you back softly. Your mouths are tender at first, pressing together softly - testingly - but as you wrap your hands around his waist and bring him closer, it deepens. Your mind spins with dizzy, overwhelming happiness as you revel in the feeling of Harrison, enjoying him utterly, your heart thrumming happily against your ribs.

“I missed you so much,” you mumble against his lips, kissing him between each word. Your fingers drift into his hair, and you smile as he hums in agreement.

“We are so stupid,” he says, drawing a laugh from your lips. “Can’t believe we ever thought breaking up was for the best.” His mouth shifts up to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I love you so much, Y/N. Please, can we get back together?” His words are desperate, but they echo the things you’ve been feeling for months, and hearing them is such a relief that you simply have to kiss him again.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whisper, moving to rest your forehead on his shoulder. Harrison brings you into a warm hug, and you let him hold you as you breathe him in. “I missed you. I love you.” You tilt your head back, meeting his eyes gleefully. “I’m so glad that you’re back.”

Harrison reaches down and pulls a familiar, glinting chain from his pocket. Your gaze softens as you pull away from him and tilt your head, letting him wrap the necklace back around your neck. The H pendant settles gently over your chest, and it feels like coming home.

“Perfect,” he comments, and you’re not sure if he’s talking about you or the necklace, but you’re willing to accept either.

With a warm smile on your face, you move aside and welcome him inside. “D’you want a cup of tea?” You offer.

Harrison steps across the threshold and presses a final, loving kiss to your lips. “There’s nothing I’d like more.”

----

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#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x y/n #harrison osterfield oneshot #sammy's summer writing challenge

[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance, Chapter 7: Hangovers and Confrontations

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

AO3 Link

I’ve been crazy busy this week, so this one is a bit short, I’m sorry! Thank you for your kind, complimentary, and h*rny thoughts in my messages this week. They truly keep me going. Big shoutout, also, to the few people that have messaged me angry about how long it’s taking Hotch and reader to get together - you had ample warning I was gonna drag this out ;) Final bit of business: there will be no chapter next Friday. I’m going to take the next two weeks to get ahead on writing so I’m not panicking when the content starts to get longer and more ~intense~. I’m sorry for that :( Thank you so much for your continued support, truly. You’re all amazing. Lastly - shoutout to @honeyshores for your advice on this one <3

Summary:  You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter Summary: You try to determine whether it's the hangover or Hotch causing more of your headache. 

Words: 2320

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

Your phone’s ringtone blared into your ear, waking you up from a dreamless sleep. Opening it to check the notification, you groaned at the bright light emitting from the screen. Upon seeing it was a text from Hotch, all traces of unconsciousness dissipated, and you sat up in bed, head pounding.

Ok, so you were really fucking hungover.

After Hotch freaked out on you last night and you ditched Cooper, you’d made it your mission to have fun with the rest of the team, which involved you buying everyone many more drinks. It worked - you didn’t leave until 2 am - but you were about to pay the price, because Hotch apparently wanted everyone at the office in 30 minutes. You checked the time.

7:00 am.

If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he was doing this on purpose.

You showered and threw on a dress, praying the commute to the BAU would give the 3 ibuprofen currently digesting in your otherwise empty stomach time to work.

  It didn’t - in fact, it just provided ample time for the nausea to set in. But by the haggard looks everyone else was shooting as they settled into the meeting room, they seemed to be in the same boat. 

Garcia, wearing massive sunglasses and laying on the couch in the corner, spoke first. “I threw up in the shower this morning.”

Morgan raised his head out of his crossed arms on the table, probably about to make some quip about Garcia and showers, but seemed to think better of being upright and laid his head back down with a grunt. 

“I feel great,” Reid said with a smile, prompting groans out of everyone, including yourself.

“That’s because you had like, 3 drinks.” JJ said. “And 2 of them were beer.”

“It’s also because I drank an appropriate amount of water. Did you know if you consume 8 ounces of water with each alcoholic drink, you can reduce the incidence of hangovers by-”

“Kid,” Rossi interrupted, taking a break from gulping down a massive mug of coffee. “Know your audience.”

“Everyone here?” Hotch asked, walking in and flicking on the lights, which earned him a collective hiss from the rest of the team. His shock at the reaction quickly turned to faint amusement. “More importantly, is everyone capable of working today without throwing up in a trashcan?”

“I’ll do my best, Sir, but I make no promises,” said Garcia, who definitely looked the worst for wear.

“Well, good, because Internal Affairs requested the Use of Deadly Force reviews early this year.”

Another groan from everyone, with the exception of you, who had no idea what reports he was referring to. As if reading your mind, Hotch turned to you and explained, “Use of Deadly Force reviews are required reports we fill out annually in which we analyze and justify every situation where deadly force was used against a subject. I know you weren’t here for most of these, but you can still help type them up, and it’ll be helpful to go over the cases for your learning.”

You nodded, not thrilled to watch the team dredge up the worst moments of the past year, but thrilled that today’s task didn’t require you to move from your chair. Hotch slid a box of files onto the table, reminded you all that he’d be in his office if you needed anything, and took his leave.

“Doesn’t he have to go over these with us, seeing as…” you trailed off, unsure how to speculate that Hotch was probably the one to take the shot in at least half of these cases.

Morgan knew what you were trying to say. “He goes over them before we submit the reports to Internal Affairs.” He grabbed the top file from the box and grimaced. “The Toelle case, man, remember that one?”

Prentiss sighed and rubbed her temples. “Just when I thought I might get through the day without losing my breakfast.”

  ____________

  You pushed your laptop away and slouched back into your chair. “I need a break.”

It was a miracle you’d made it to this point, honestly - your headache was now raging despite pain relievers, and you’d spent half the day meticulously poring over the actions of some of the BAU’s most gruesome killers. (Prentiss was right - the Toelle file had been enough to make everyone, even Reid, turn a little green).

“You doing alright, kiddo?” Rossi asked, peering over the file he was reading.

“Just hungover. Went a little harder than I expected to, ya know?”

“What happened with Hotch last night?” Reid asked.

“Reid!” JJ admonished. 

Morgan shrugged. “Hey, we’re all thinking it. We saw him drag you outside, then he stormed back in and left. How’d you manage to piss him off so bad?”

“I’m surprised you noticed anything. You were pretty occupied,” Rossi said, raising his eyebrows towards Garcia, who flushed scarlet. 

You laughed and sent a silent thank you to Rossi for taking the heat off of you. 

“He just told me the guy I was dancing with was on coke and that I shouldn’t hang out with him.” You shrugged. “It was weird and I kinda freaked out on him at first, but I guess he was right.”

That didn’t get the nonchalant response you expected - everyone looked just as confused as you were when Hotch had initially approached you.

“Wait, hold on,” Prentiss said, sitting forward. “He told you not to dance with that guy because he was on drugs?”

“Yeah,” you replied, “He said after Garcia got attacked by that one man, everyone on the team needs to be more careful about who they associate with. Is that not… the case…?”

You trailed off, because judging by the looks the rest of the team were exchanging, it definitely wasn’t .

JJ shook her head. “Hotch has never really cared what we do in our private lives unless it affects our job.”

“Yeah, like remember that time you dated Will for a year without telling us and we had to pretend we didn’t know?” Prentiss asked, grinning.

“Or that time you hooked up with the mail guy and you made us sign for your packages for the next month?” Morgan ribbed back at Prentiss.

“I was drunk -”

“I think you should talk to Aaron,” Rossi suggested gently over what was quickly becoming a team debate over who had the craziest love life.

Still reeling over the knowledge that Hotch’s erratic behavior towards you wasn’t merely some standard attempt to keep the team safe, you nodded and stood.

It was time for some answers, god damn it.

  The righteous indignation that spurred you towards Hotch’s office was quickly being replaced by nervousness as you neared. You considered turning back, but you were sure he heard you stomping down the hall, and you weren’t trying to make a habit of awkwardly hesitating outside like you had at his apartment. Despite his door being ajar, you knocked gently, and he looked up from his standard mound of paperwork and nodded. 

“Come in.”

You obliged and sat down across the desk from him, twiddling your fingers. He waited for you to speak, never one to opt out of awkward silence.

“I think we should talk about what happened last night. Sir.”

He cocked his head slightly, setting down his pen and folding his hands in front of him.

“What are you referring to?”

You hated how he did this - it was an interrogation tactic, you knew that. He’d make the subject describe a situation with which both parties were clearly familiar to get their interpretation of events, which was usually very telling. And, more importantly, it made them uncomfortable.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m referring to you pulling me away from the group and telling me not to dance with that guy at the club.”

Hotch sighed and picked his pen back up, scanning his paperwork, making it very clear he felt this conversation wasn’t worth his time. “I explained my reasoning last night. If you take issue with the standards I expect of my team outside of the office-”

“But you don’t,” you blurted out, cutting him off.

“Don’t what?” he asked, now looking at you.

“Don’t expect that of your team,” you explained. “I talked to them about it just now. They said you’ve never acted that way before.”

“Their interpretation of events may be different-”

“It’s not their interpretation,” you interrupted for the second time. “They told me about all their dating escapades and you’ve never made it your business, not once. Why am I different to you?”

You hadn’t intended that last part to come out the way it did, and you cringed at the vulnerability in your tone. He was silent for one, two seconds, and you knew then he was making a decision, that the answer to your question wasn’t the simple truth he’d projected it to be.

“You’re the youngest member of the team, and the least experienced. I feel a responsibility to make sure you don’t make any decisions that you may regret. I’m sorry if you felt I was out of line.”

The detachment in his tone felt like a punch to the gut. Some part of you had been secretly wishing, you supposed, that his actions betrayed something deeper - that you were different to him, and not just because you were young and naive. And when the team had reacted the way they did, you’d gotten your hopes up that it had meant something. Just like him telling you about his past. Just like him killing Matthews. Just like… it didn’t matter . Even if he had been lying just now, it wouldn’t have changed anything. He wasn’t letting you in because he didn’t want to. You’d overestimated your significance in his life, but in reality, you were probably no more than a blip on his radar. Hotch was the sun, the central point to which everyone around him was drawn, and you were a lonely, distant planet that had somehow convinced yourself you were close enough to have gotten burned. 

Choking back undeserved tears, you left his office, fighting the bile that was finally rising from your stomach, realizing that this was about to be the second time in as many days that your feelings for him had made you puke.

  ____________

  When Matthews lunged at you, he hadn’t spared a thought, not a moment for consideration before breaking his neck. He knew, even as he felt the vertebra detach from its seat in the base of the skull, that there had been other paths - not that killing him was unrequited, of course, but it was a last-resort type of action, and Hotch had never been a last-resort type of man. Morgan hadn’t questioned it, not beyond a hushed, “You good?” after the whole thing went down, but he could sense his shock at the fact that Hotch was the one to go straight for lethality.

And your reaction - that was what kept him awake at night. Not killing the suspect; it was a sick truth, but he’d killed far too many people by now to have that same nauseous, horrified reaction he did the first few times. No, it was the way you looked at him afterwards. He’d expected shock, panic - hell, even complete disgust - but you’d looked at him like he was your hero. Like he was good, somehow. And he’d wanted to correct every day since, say, “No, you’ve got me wrong, I’m not what you think I am,” but he hadn’t mustered up the courage. He’d grown to need that look, if he was being honest with himself; needed someone to gaze upon him with the admiration and respect and doe-eyed awe that you did, because sometimes it was the only thing that kept him from going home alone to his apartment and shattering every mirror in the fucking place so he didn’t have to look at his reflection.

So when you’d asked him - all flushed face and halting words and twisting fingers - why he’d acted the way he did, he couldn’t be truthful with you. He’d answered with what should’ve been the truth, because he couldn’t tell you that he’d wanted to kick that boy’s teeth in from the minute he saw him touch you for daring to defile something so innocent and pure and good, even if you’d wanted it. Especially if you’d wanted it, if he was being honest with himself.

This was all twisted, of course. There were a million ways to profile a man in his 50’s who thought the way he did about someone your age (not to mention his employee, for fuck’s sake), none of them good. He’d deserved the raised eyebrow Rossi gave him before he stalked off to drag you from the dancefloor, and he’d more than deserved the constant, chiding internal voice scolding him whenever he paid too much attention to you, asked you an easy question just so he could see you light up at knowing the answer, divulged information he hadn’t talked about with anyone in years.

He saw how much his words affected you. You’d tried to hide it, but you were so endearingly bad at masking your feelings, and even though his stomach twisted to see you crushed, he felt a twinge of hope knowing you’d wanted a different answer. He could’ve given you one that would have made you happier:

“You’re important to me.”

“I was worried about you.”

Even, “I wanted to spend time with you last night, instead.”

But those were all too adjacent to a truth that he starkly refused to consider.

So he let you down, because letting people down was something with which Aaron Hotchner had plenty of goddamn practice. 

#hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch #criminal minds smut #Criminal Minds #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds headcanons #thomas gibson #thomas gibson fanfic #hotch fanfiction #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #derek morgan #penelope garcia #david rossi #spencer reid #mgg #sub!reader #dom!hotch #standards of performance #fanfiction #ao3 #writing

[apoguecalledjj]

Emetophobia

I know emetophobia (fear of vomiting) isn't an issue that many people face, so I expect it to not get many notes because it isn't as relatable, but I still want to write it. My severe emetophobia is something I used to be embarrassed of, and I'm finally comfortable talking about it openly and want to share that in my writing. I've been planning this piece for a while but was unsure of writing it, but I've decided to go ahead with it anyways. if you do experience emetophobia, know that you're not alone. I thought for a long time that I was the only person on this planet who felt this way, but that's not true. This piece will be based heavily on my own experiences, so anyone that chooses to read it will get some insight on what it is like :)

Summary: You deal with a fear that none of the pogues, including your boyfriend, JJ, know about.

Word count: 1812

Pairing: JJ x reader

Warnings: Vomiting, talks of vomiting, talks of emetophobia triggers

Requested: No

You had only known the pogues for 6 months, and had been dating JJ for 4, but you could easily say that the four pogues and Sarah Cameron were your best friends. They knew you better than you knew yourself.

There was just one thing they didn’t know: Your crippling fear of throwing up. You had been officially diagnosed with anxiety and emetophobia two years ago, and months of therapists and councillors done little to help you. You wanted to tell the pogues, tell them your explanation behind all your weird habits, but your family had reacted poorly when you told them and you were terrified they would react the same way.

JJ was the first to notice your weird little habits. How you briefly paused whenever walking into a new place, causing you to fall slightly behind and tug his hand gently that you were always holding. The truth was you were looking for the bathrooms, or a trashcan even, just in case, but you told JJ you were just taking in the new surroundings. He had accepted that, smiling at you and giving you a quick kiss before moving on.

How you constantly used hand sanitizer, even if you weren’t eating. You told him it was just a habit you had learned from your mom, and he just shrugged, but from that day forward anytime he seen hand sanitizer in a store he bought it for you.

How you glanced away whenever one of the pogues had a hangover. Squeezing your eyes shut, even somehow going as far as covering your ears. JJ didn’t understand, but he always let you bury your face in his chest.

Of course, there were instances that were more than just ‘little habits’. The times you were convinced you would have to explain to your friends the battle you were constantly having with yourself. But every, single time you managed to weasel your way out of an explanation.

~~~

“Are you drinking tonight, Y/N?” John B asked as him and Pope lugged the keg down to the beach. JJ stood next to you, and threw an arm over your shoulder. You felt your heart flutter, you had known this boy less than a month and he was already stealing your heart. But your stomach fluttered too, and not because of JJ, instead due to the fact you had to lie once again.

This was only the pogues third party since you joined the group, and the first it was easy enough to make up an excuse. The second they pushed a little harder, so you were unsure of what would happen tonight.

“Of course she’s drinking! We’re gonna have a good time tonight, right Y/N?” JJ said, a little too loudly.

You just shrugged. “I don’t think so guys. I gotta wake up early tomorrow.” Lies. You just didn’t want to risk a hangover.

“Oh come on! Just a couple drinks won’t hurt.” John B nagged, placing the keg down a few feet away from you and immediately grabbing some beer. “How can you have fun when you’re sober all the time?”

You tensed slightly and JJ noticed, rubbing your shoulder slowly. “I have plenty of fun sober,” You defended. “I just don’t feel like drinking.”

John B opened his mouth to say something else, but JJ cut him off. “She said she’s not drinking, John B. Drop it.” His aggressive tone shocked the brunet boy, and John B just nodded and walked away.

JJ turned you to face him, rubbing your shoulders to try and help you relax. He could see the imprints where you had been biting your lip. “Are you okay?” He asked, looking closely at you to make sure everything was good.

You nodded, and smiled at him. “Yeah JJ, thanks for that.”

“Of course.” He pulled you in tight for a hug, before pulling back. “Any reason you don’t like alcohol?”

Your smile faltered at the question. “Oh, uh... I just don’t enjoy it.”

JJ knew that wasn’t the truth but didn’t push it. Instead, he just grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the others, because even though you weren’t getting drunk, he definitely was.

~~~

The six of you stood on the dock, staring at the HMS Pogue. It was the day after a storm, and the wind had yet to fully die out, making the water rough. The pogues deemed it a perfect day for fishing.

While the others excitedly chattered and got their gear ready, you wandered off to the side, staring out at the rough waters. There was no way you’d get on that boat today, and risk getting seasick. Even though you spent a fair bit of your life out in boat, and you had never got seasick.

The possibility was still there, and you weren’t about to take that chance.

JJ noticed you stood alone and wandered over to where you nervously glanced out at the waves. He pulled you into him, wrapping both his arms around you and pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. “You okay?”

You weren’t entirely sure what you and JJ were, but the relationship you two had had definitely evolved from friends. There was a lot of flirting, and cuddling, and kissing.

“I don’t think I can go out today,” You whispered, your voice a little shaky. 

“Why? Is it because of the wind?” He looked at you, his face full of concern, he could tell you were uneasy just by looking at you.

“Yeah. I don’t want to go out in the wind.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. “But you still go, okay? I’ll wait here.”

JJ looked unsure for a moment, his eyes studying you as he tried to figure out the deeper problem. He knew there was something you weren’t telling him, but he never wanted to push you. So he was patient, something JJ never thought was possible.

Eventually, he nodded and pressed a quick kiss to your lips before running off to the rest of the pogues. You sat on the dock, your hair blowing in the wind as you waited for them to return.

~~~

“Hey, I got crab! Quite the deal for it too!” JJ shouted as he walked into the chateau. He plopped a bucket down in front of you guys, and sure enough, there was a few crabs inside.

It didn’t take long for the pogues to jump up, excited for the seafood that was too expensive to have often. Once it was prepared, the five of your friends immediately dug in.

Except all you could think about was the last time your family had crab, and how your father had got food poisoning. Over and over again, the thought of getting sick from the seafood ran through your head.

“You can have my share, JJ,” You muttered, even though the others seemed to be enjoying it. You loved crab. 

“Why baby?” JJ looked at you with concern, remembering how excited you got the last time you had it.

“Just not in the mood.” You looked anywhere but his eyes, not wanting him to see past your mask.

But that means you also didn’t see the worry in his eyes, as he tried to figure out what you were hiding.

~~~

You sat up abruptly in bed, your sleep disturbed by the dreaded feeling in your stomach. You knew exactly what it was. Five days ago, Sarah was missing from your daily adventures. She had a stomach bug. Then, of course John B caught it.

And you and JJ were staying at the chateau. You knew it was a bad idea, but JJ wanted you to stay so bad and he didn’t know about your fear. You didn’t know how to say no. You had been so careful.

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you rummaged through the nightstand for the anti-nauseant you always put there, but this was the one night you forgot them. Your hands started to shake, then your body as you felt the bile rising in your throat.

Swallow.

Rise.

Swallow.

JJ felt your shaking and woke up, sitting up so that he was next to you. “Baby?” He wrapped his arms around you gently. “What’s wrong?”

Your breathing was heavy, your body fighting to keep down what was also fighting to come up. There was no hiding it from him anymore. “I caught the stomach bug.” You croaked out, your voice barely working anymore.

JJ relaxed. “Oh that’s okay baby. I figured we’d all get it eventually. Go to the bathroom.” He started to lie back down, ready for sleep to consume him again, but quickly sat back up as he heard you whimper.

“No JJ I-” Swallow. “I have emetephobia. I’m-” Swallow. “I’m scared of throwing up.” 

He quickly thought back, all those weird little habits, excuses you made for not drinking, everything. He didn’t understand the fear, but he could feel how serious it was just by your reaction. The sobs coming out of you made his heart break.

“Okay, sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay. Let’s get you to the bathroom okay?” You were too focused on the nausea to react, so he picked you up and brought you in to the bathroom, resting you down gently by the toilet.

He sat down next to you and slowly started rubbing your back. “Okay, I know it’s scary, but the quicker it’s over with the quicker you’ll feel better. It’s okay. I’m right here. You’re okay.”

He didn’t leave your side once, constantly rubbing your back and holding your hair back once you finally stopped fighting it. You collapsed into his arms, ,exhausted and trying to slow down your breathing.

“I’m gonna go get you some pills, okay? Can you brush your teeth?” JJ stood, pulling you up with him. You nodded and he left, coming back a few minutes later with the pills you had been searching for earlier.

He handed them to you, along with a glass of water, and lead you to the bed.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” He asked, pulling you in tight to his chest and stroking your hair.

“People normally judge me. They think it’s weird. I didn’t- I didn’t want you to think I was weird.”

“It’s not weird baby. It’s okay. I wanna help you. I’m never gonna ask you to drink with us again.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, even though it was sweaty. “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” You whispered into his chest, the feeling of his fingers laced through your hair calming you down. “Thank you.”

“I love you sweetheart. Try to get some sleep.” JJ pulled you in close and you felt yourself drifting off, tight in the arms of the boy who would always be there for you, no matter what.

#outer banks #outer banks fic #outer banks one shot #outer banks imagine #obx #obx fic #obx netflix #obx imagine #obx one shot #jj #jj maybank fic #jj maybank #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank imagine #outer banks jj maybank #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #emetophobia

[writeseasonally]

Just My Type (Fred Weasley)

Summary: Wake, shower, eat, and study, that was (Y/n)’s weekly morning routine. She always studies before the start of class and tries her hardest to avoid all kinds of distractions. But when your best friends are the Weasley twins, it’s a lot harder than it sounds. Fred decides to disrupt her morning routine one time with words that leave (Y/n) all red and flustered. 

Prompt(s): “Well you’re fun.” “And you’re annoying.”

Pairing(s): Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw!reader

Warning(s): none

Word(s) : 1.5k

A/N: This is for @im-a-writer-right​‘s 2k Followers Writing Challenge (congratulations again on 2k Ria! Well deserved 💖). This isn’t the first time I’ve written for the Harry Potter fandom, but this is the first I’m posting, so there may be some possible errors when it comes to characterization and I apologize in advance for that; While editing, I also noticed that I used “as if” quite often so...yeah, but with that being said, you may now proceed reading :)

[ please note that english isn’t my first language ]

Noise filled the Great Hall as the students' voices merged as one because of how they talked with each other continuously. It's a wonder as to how they managed to understand what the other was talking about, considering the Great Hall was filled with students who either enjoyed their breakfast while conversing with their friends or were trying their hardest to do a last-minute study before their first subject begins.

Sat on the end of the Ravenclaw table was (Y/n), who was alone. All the other Ravenclaws were with their friend groups; honestly, (Y/n) wished she could do the same, but with the coming OWLs, and with the essays she wanted to revise last minute, she was stuck on the furthest corner of the table with books surrounding her instead of her friends.

Letting out a frustrated groan, (Y/n) thought of how much time she wasted just to rapidly skim the book that didn't even give her much additional information. She closed the book and let out a shriek as a response when she saw a grinning face, specifically, Fred Weasley's grinning face.

"What're you doing sitting all alone here, (Y/n)?" he asked, pulling his face away and grabbing one of the books she previously read. He looked at the book cover and opened a random page before closing it abruptly, a bored look on his face. "I get that you're a Ravenclaw and all but you still need to have at least a little bit of fun." 

"Sorry Weasley, but unlike you, I actually would like to make a good impression for the teachers this year," (Y/n) retorted, she paused to look at Fred before continuing. "Though, it clearly doesn't help with potions since Snape knows I associate with you Gryffindor lot, but eh, I don't mind. It’s not like anyone can actually appease him." 

Fred grinned and swung an arm around her, "Well, Snape's clearly a greasy git of a teacher who shows his distaste towards anything other than the Slytherins. So I would've taken deep offense if you implied that being friends with us lovely and absolutely charming Gryffindors instead of those Slytherins was a mistake you've done."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, "There we are again, Weasley. You and your overdramatic self making me feel guilty for saying something I meant differently." Fred's grin grew larger at the statement, though it dialed down a little when (Y/n) removed his arm which was wrapped around her. She smiled at him one last time before burying herself in her textbooks again.

Letting out a small sigh, Fred tried to eavesdrop on what the other Ravenclaws near them were talking about. His grin returning for the umpteenth time when the words he was hearing started making sense.

"Come on Romina, you gotta tell us what your type is!" one Ravenclaw exclaimed. She, along with two other Ravenclaws, looked at a black-haired girl who looked unsure in answering the question. Though, not even a second after, the look of uncertainty immediately disappeared and was replaced by an odd confidence.

"First off, I'd like him to be a Gryffindor, considering as everyone in this house's too preoccupied with studying, it'll be fun to have someone who doesn't worry as much around." the girl explained, a smile on her face. "Especially if it's one of the Weasley twins, then that would be wonderful." She looked around and saw him staring, making her look away with an embarrassed smile. Fred too looked away, satisfied with what he's just heard. He didn't know some Ravenclaws acted like that, he thought all Ravenclaws were too busy burying themselves in their books to even care about those kinds of things; he assumed that all Ravenclaws were like (Y/n). He was proven otherwise.

"Not all Ravenclaws bury their noses in their books, you know," (Y/n) said from beside him as if she's just read his mind. She closed the book she was reading. "I just happen to be very conscious of my grades."

"Why couldn't have I befriended that girl over there? She's clearly more interesting and more interested," he asked, face being playfully serious.

(Y/n) snorted and replied, "Please, that girl over there's too possessive of what she thinks is hers. I'm surprised she hasn't yet declared her love for you, Weasley."

"Well, even if she did, I wouldn't be at all interested. She isn't my type, and I've already got my eyes for someone else," he stated proudly, his tone as if he's just won the Quidditch cup single-handedly.

(Y/n) looked at him with a raised brow. Curiousity about what he meant by 'his type' consumed her mind. "Oh? Then may I know what your 'type' is, Weasley?" she asked, emphasizing the word type.

Fred stared at her for a moment, amusement in his eyes. He pondered on whether answering her question seriously or if he should be the opposite of subtle.

Considering he's Fred Weasley, he decided to go with the obvious choice.

"Well (L/n), that's a tad bit too personal, don't you think? But if you must," he sighed heavily, as if (Y/n) was forcing him to share what his 'type' was. 

She on the other hand tried to hide her genuine curiosity with an annoyed expression, though Fred can easily see right through her. 

"First of all, she's got to be able to play Quidditch decently, making George and I constantly target her with a bludger since we both know she can easily swerve past it. She's also got to be a chaser for her house team, if I'm being more specific." Fred started rubbing his chin, making him look like he was thinking of something very deeply, "She's got to have (h/l), (h/c) hair with matching (e/c) eyes. Also, she's a prefect who'll obviously be head girl in her seventh year; she's always got her nose buried in a book as she claims that having fun is a last choice because she'd rather study, but we both know it's a lie. She's also able to be courageous at times, not physically, but implying it with the use of her wits." he paused for a second, holding on to (Y/n)'s eyes as her face suddenly felt hot. He smiled, "Pretty sure Granger's following her footsteps. But most importantly, she's got to be the person I'm talking to right now, whose face is almost as the same shade as my hair, and is the person I'm asking to be my girlfriend."

(Y/n) stared at him for a few more seconds, mind processing the words that just left his lips: 'the person I'm asking to be my girlfriend'. Um, what? 

“What– who– me– why?” (Y/n) spluttered, completely flustered. 

Fred only rolled his eyes teasingly at the question. He thought that his declaration was enough for her, but he did catch her off guard so he understood that she was still processing his words. But instead of repeating his essay-worthy declaration, he opted to use just simpler words that he knew would get a rise out of her, “Well, you’re fun.”

“And you’re annoying!” She immediately responded without a second thought. This emitted a laugh from Fred because her response was all too sudden as if she programmed herself to say those words every time he says she’s fun (and now that he thought about it, maybe she actually did. He could vividly recall telling her she was fun during first-year and her responding with the same three words. Huh).

(Y/n) zipped her mouth shut, she still felt flustered as she watched Fred’s amusement to her reaction, he was clearly entertained. Perhaps he achieved his goal after all: to distract her from her studying and entertain himself. She groaned on the inside, thinking of a way to compose herself. And she did just that

She closed her eyes for a second to calm her racing heart as she took in an intake of breath before releasing it. (Y/n) hoped that it would help her understand his previous words easier. And somehow, it worked.

When (Y/n) finally composed herself and got her confidence back, she looked at Fred with a small smile, her cheeks still burning hot, "Well, Freddie, you're lucky that you're just my type." She kissed his cheek before grabbing all of the textbooks in front of her, which were already arranged, before heading off to her first class.

George was watching everything that happened between Fred and (Y/n) from where he sat on the Gryffindor table. And when he saw (Y/n) plant a kiss on his brother’s cheek before scurrying off with a small, shy smile, he took this as his cue to finally near his brother and ask him about what happened. And tease him afterward of course.

"So was that a yes or a no?" asked George as he made himself comfortable on the empty space beside Fred. He looked at his twin expectantly, who didn't return his gaze, rather, he continued staring at the Ravenclaw's figure until she exited the Great Hall; mischief was evident in George's eyes as he gave his brother a teasing grin, "Merlin, you are already smitten."

×××

gifs are made by yours truly unless stated otherwise

posted: 08-01-20

#riaswritingchallenge #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x ravenclaw!reader #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley one-shot #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagines #george weasley #weasley twins #weasley twins imagine #weasley twins imagines #weasley twins x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter oneshot #harry potter one shot #harry potter one-shot #ravenclaw!reader #*ally writes

[octupus-on-the-moon]

A roommate

~Hi :l I know, I know, I'll update regularly my ass. The good news are, that i wrote a lot. My Star Wars obsession is back and i started to write a fic about it and I'm writing a Short Story about Sam. Sooo i got distracted. But I sat down yesterday and got some writing done here aaaand I made a Masterlist, linked over here. I shut up now, have fun ;)~

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Seventh part of a nightmare

Word count: 1542

Pairing: Bucky × Reader

Warning: Mental health issues

It was a long rough night. For both. The silences and darkness prevented Barnes from sleeping, he doze off a few times just to wake up, sweating and panting. Thinking about all the horrible things his Alter Ego did, what he did. Even though Bucky really wanted to stand up stretch a little and turn on the lights, but he did not, because he feared he might wake up y/n and needed to explain himself. So, he kept sitting on the cold floor, waiting for the sunrise.

On the other side of the door y/n, wasn´t having a better time either. The whole thing with her father was slowly driving her crazy. She replayed every single memory she ever had of him. And suddenly there were little but clear hints about his other life. Strange man in black suits, that came to visit them. Her dad every once in a while, disappearing for a few hours just to come back with a present, telling y/n that he had work to do outside. And the panic he managed to hide in front of everyone but her, when S.H.I.E.L.D. fell and the media went wild. It started to make sense. Everything started to make sense. And it scared y/n, because a little part of her did not want it to be real. To calm herself down y/n was walking around the room, playing with her hair, picking on her skin. She was tempted to open the door, but on a second thought, y/n did not want to intrude in James’s space. She was already a burden enough.

Holding that thought y/n, decided to try and sleep. Under the blankets she stared at the ceiling. Y/n could hear almost anything that happened in the apartment. The quiet humming of the fridge. The steady leak in the bathroom sink. The fluttering of the curtain and obviously the sounds of the Big City, that came through the open window. The only thing she could not hear at all was James.

Finally, her curiosity won.

On tip toes y/n stood up and went to the door. Every little noise in this apartment could be heard from the bed. Everything but him. Was he meditating? Did he leave? Did he die from a strange disease from one moment to another? She was about to laugh about her own silly ideas. Preventing it by putting a hand over her mouth, while the other one slowly lowered the door handle. It opened easy without making any sound. Y/n took two light steps ahead and looked over the edge into the living room.

As she saw James leaning upright against the wall, she hid herself behind the wall. Nothing happened. Once again, she leaned over the edge. He did not move. He was sleeping. Y/n took a deeper look on to the scene before her. Mr. Nakajima’s Mattress was carefully placed on the wall, besides the TV. James was sitting on the opposite side of it, between the armchair and the only chair he had. The head straight up as if he were looking at the ceiling. Under the long-sleeved t-shirt, he was wearing, you could see the singular shapes of the metal arm. His legs stretched out in front of him wrapped in a dark blanket. The curtain was closed, but the window was open, so that the thin fabric flooded up every few moments and the street lights submerged the room in a strange light.

Y/n did not know how long she admired the scene. Every little detail consumed her in that quiet night. Then the magic broke.

James set himself up, struggling for air, gripping the blanket with one hand, putting the other one on his chest. Taking one heavy breath after the other. To just break down against the wall again. Y/n froze. She was not meant to see that, but she could not move without drawing his attention to her. Y/n kept observing the scene, that had lost all its charm. The room was cold, because of the wind that came through the open window. The furniture lost its shape, turning into threating shadows. In between, James suddenly seemed so small and lost. He forced his breath to slow down. It took him a few tries, and when he hesitantly drew his knees to his chest, something inside her broke. Her face grew cold. Eyes narrow, Lips pressed together. Her fist closed tight.

Even though she long thought of him as a monster, now she decided to make everyone pay, who was responsible for this. If this sudden feeling came, because it reminded her of someone long lost or because the person in front of her was scared child, instead of the strong Avenger she thought he became, did not matter.

James started to become more conscious of his surroundings as he calmed down. Y/n took the moment of confusion and escaped silently to her room.

The first rays of light from the morning sun, vanished the cold shadows of the moon. After sleeping a few hours, y/n got up of her bed full of zest for action. It was not enough sleep, but nothing that a good coffee could not solve. While she hurried to the bathroom, y/n noticed that James was still sleeping, rolled up in the same place she left him last night. With a smile she brushed her hair and teeth. Y/n planned a little surprise for him, that would work even better if he slept a little longer.

After y/n dressed up, made a good coffee, drank a cup and left a little note for James. She went out to buy some things for her host. The usual stuff. Food, easy to cook for one person; Some good wine; Toilet paper; soap, etc. As she passed a little Flower shop y/n had an idea and went inside.

 With all hands full of bags, she carefully balanced her way to the door of the apartment. Then it struck her. She did not have any keys. Rolling her eyes sighting, y/n slowly let all bags down to the floor. Taking a quick look on her wristwatch, that told y/n it was almost noon, she decided to knock.

Like the last time y/n heard some mumbling and quick steps behind the door. With the same sleepy face of the first time Bucky greeted y/n. When he registered all the bags on the floor, his face lit up in astonishment. It was a really long time ago someone went grocery shopping for him.

Y/n and Bucky brought everything to the kitchen, both equally excited about all the bags.

“Why and what did you buy?” Barnes asked with a soft smile and a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Oh, just some food aaaaand” Y/n was searching through the bags “Some little plants” she finished showing him a little pot with a tiny round cactus. “Because you need food and taking care of plants is fun, apart from the obvious fact that they look great”

“Wow” was the only response from Bucky. The little plants reminded him of Wakanda, they were not exactly goats, but y/n bought a lot of them so he would have enough to do every day.  

The Sunday rushed by between cocking their late-late-breakfast, eating and talking, repotting the plants, looking for the best place for all the little flowers, cactuses and little bushes and last but not least cooking their on-time-dinner. As the sun sets, both were sitting on the living room floor enjoying a bottle of wine, surrounded by little colorful pots.

“I didn´t think you could cook, it was delicious” Bucky commented looking down on the empty plates.

“Thank you. Yeah rich-girl-complex doesn´t work with me. I like doing stuff myself and I lived alone a few years.”

“Well, you really didn´t seem that kind of girl, but you also don´t seem that kind of girl that likes doing domestic tasks” He took a sip of his wine, without letting her out of sight.

“Good point, but I think that isn´t a gender-relevant-thing everyone should be able to take care of themselves”

“Agreed. I´ll cook the next time”  

“Agreed too, this place looks great by the way” Y/n praised as she took another look around the room.

“Yes, you were right plants do look fantastic” Bucky approved with a soft smile.

“Oh I bought something else” Y/n jumped up and went to the bedroom. He took another sip of his wine frowning. Then she came back with two Books “These two are my favorite” y/n explained holding them up “Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett and The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe from the Narnia Chronicles by C.S. Lewis”

“How did you? Never mind. Thank you” Barnes reached out for the books beaming as if it were Christmas. Y/n gave them to him, sitting down, studying his expressions. She was nervous at first, because she did not know if he would like them, but the smile told her everything. She relaxed, reaching for her glass.  

“Can we read them together?”  Bucky suddenly asked, after reading the backs and observing the covers awhile “No pressure, if you already…” His shy stutter got interrupted

“Of course”

All rights reserved.

~I loved writing this one, it was really fun and I love its vibe. If I'm intruding too much into the reader character, I'm sorry, I'm really trying not to~

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#bucky barnes #mcu #marvel #tfatws #sam wilson #anthony mackie #captain america #sebastian stan #bucky × reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier × reader

[tomiokai]

Drunk Words, Sober Thoughts || Spencer Reid

Masterlist

A/N: This is a fic I have wanted to write for a long time, and I have read this concept a whole bunch of times from different fandom so it isn’t my original idea. Kudos to whoever made this idea first, I love it, but I did want to write one with my own twist. So yeah, enjoy. I don’t drink so bare with me. Maybe a happy part two, possibly. 

Please don’t copy my works, but if you do want to use it as inspiration please give me credit, at least tag me. I do read a lot and when I see my ideas getting stolen and then turned into new stories it really hurts me.

Summary: After Y/n and Spencer’s one-sided breakup, Y/n gets drunk on their breakup anniversary and calls Spencer and admits that she still loves him and that she is mothering his child. This is after prison Spencer so he isn’t as nice!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Angst

Warnings: Angst. Not a happy ending, I really wanted it to be a happy ending but life sucks so whatever. Alcohol obviously. Have your tissues ready if you are sensitive. Swearing. 

Word Count: 3.2k

_

“I’m sorry Y/n but I don’t love you anymore. Everything about us is just so complicated. We’re always fighting and arguing, and my job is very stressful and time-consuming, our fire burned out a long time ago and we just don’t belong together anymore. I just can’t do this with you, I’m sorry and I hope you’ll find someone else and please forgive me one day” 

Those were the words that ended our 2-year relationship. Spencer didn’t love me anymore. He left me standing there in the rain outside of the BAU, 10 o’clock at night, in the dark, alone. He walked away from me, from our child that he didn’t even know about, I was going to tell him but he left before I could. And I knew that if I told him about our child I would burden him with our child. With me. 

Of course the team was devastated when they were informed that we had broken up.

 Garcia, JJ, Emily, and I still hang out regularly, we would go to nightclubs, and bars and all sorts of fun places together, we never lost our connection with each other. Spencer was a topic that was never brought up when we hung out, but when he was the whole mood would be killed. 

Rossi and I would meet up every second Saturday of the month and we would have a nice dinner together and talk, nothing romantic, only a father-daughter relationship. He was also the godfather to Spencer and I’s child. And of course Penelope was the godmother, it was a tough decision between the girls, but since Penelope had the least dangerous part of the job she was the best choice.  

Henry Y/l/n Reid was the beautiful baby boy I had given birth to on October 31 weighing 7.6 pounds. A coincidence to say the least, it was on Spencer’s favorite holiday. He took up almost all of Spencer’s facial features, only leaving Henry with my y/h/c hair, and plump lips. He looked too much like Spencer, anyone who looked at Henry would immediately assume he was Spencer’s. When I was in labor, practically the whole team came rushing to the hospital leaving Spencer alone at the BAU for a few hours. I had made everyone keep it a secret to not tell Spencer until I decided too and so when they had gone back they all had their own excuses. It has been two years since our breakup, I had raised him myself, along with the girls, and Rossi. It was hard being a single mother, 2-year-old Henry had definitely inherited Spencer’s genius brain and had on multiple occasions asked where his daddy was. Every time the answer would be, “Daddy has a very busy job and doesn’t have time, he travels a lot, but he’s coming back really soon”.  And that was how it went every single day for two years. 

On many occasions JJ would suggest I tell Spencer but every time I would decline and say, “not yet”.  

All this time I was still madly in love with Spencer. Every night I would cry myself to sleep knowing the person I loved the most other than Henry didn’t love me back. He had moved on, on several occasions Emily would come to tell me about the girls she would see Spencer flirting with. It wasn’t something I wanted to know, but I needed to know. A very small part of my heart suggests that if I had told Spencer the night I found out about Henry he would have never left me, but Spencer had stopped loving me long before that and telling him would burden him to me. I loved him, so so much, and it was all my fault he didn’t love me back. Rossi, every time we met up would tell me it wasn’t my fault that Spencer had fallen out of love with me, but deep down inside of me it felt like it was. Maybe it was because of Maeve, maybe not. 

Laying in bed crying, that is exactly what I was doing right this moment. The tears spilling out of my eyes staining the plush white pillow under my head, my body curled in the fetal position. Trembling, shaking, coldness, and the choked sobs from my lips filled the air. Henry completely oblivious of what's happening, was sleeping in the room next door. Whenever Henry saw me cry he would wrap me in a tight long hug, his small arms squeezing me tightly, his cheek on my shoulders, he never said anything, just hugged me. He truly was a smart little boy. 

Tonight's tears were different. They didn’t just come out of my eyes, they poured out. Today marked the official 2 year break up anniversary, two whole years knowing the person you loved the most probably had someone else on their mind. 

‘He never loved you.’

‘He’s too good for you.’

‘He hates you.’

‘He loves someone else.’

‘He wants nothing to do with you.’

‘He left you alone.’

‘YOU WEREN’T GOOD ENOUGH, THAT’S WHY HE LEFT YOU.’

‘YOU'RE A WHORE.’

‘YOU'RE UGLY.’ 

‘YOU DON’T DESERVE LOVE.”

The voices never stopped, slapping at my brain. The pounding just got worse whenever I tried to ignore it. 

That's it. I bolted up from my bed and started walking towards the kitchen. Wine, Vodka, Beer, all those sounded great right now. And you know what that’s exactly what's going to happen. To get wasted. I’m never this reckless, but tonight, tonight was an exception, it hurt too much, the pain jabbing at my heart was too much to handle. 

I stomped quietly down the halls of my apartment and swung the kitchen cabinet door that held the booze open. Nothing. 

Plan b. 

Grabbing the skimpiest dress I owned I threw it on and taped up on some light makeup. The dress I had on looked so slutty I almost decided to just cancel my plans, the dress was a deep dark shade of emerald green, it had almost the thinnest straps, a plunging neckline, and a skirt that stopped at the top of my thighs. For makeup a smokey eye with gold and blood-red lipstick. I grabbed my long y/h/c hair and pulled it into a slick, tight ponytail at the top of my head and turned to the bathroom mirror. I looked like a desperate whore, I had thought to myself as I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. The jabbing was not going to let me rest so I threw my stupid thoughts about being a whore out of my head and called Rossi. 

David picked up on the third ring.

“Y/n why are you calling me at 10:30pm?” David’s voice came from the other end. 

“I’m so sorry David for waking you up so late but could you please please please come to my apartment and watch Henry for a few hours? He’s asleep already! All you have to do is listen for him.” My voice pleaded, sounding more desperate than the time I begged Spencer to come back. 

“Fine, but you owe me a coffee tomorrow,” David answered shuffling around his apartment for a coat and his keys. “I’ll be there in 3 minutes. 

“Thank you, see you,” I said into the phone and hung up.

Three minutes passed and as Rossi promised he showed up. 

I swung the door open as soon as I heard the knock on the door. 

Rossi just stood there looking at me with a disapproving look on his face. I could tell he already knew what I was up to. After all he is a profiler. 

I stepped aside so David could step in. 

“I’m only doing this because I know you need this,” Rossi said stepping in. 

“Thank you,” I said a small smile on my face. 

“Be safe okay? And don’t do anything you’ll regret.” David said, taking off his coat and sitting down in the armchair by the tv. 

“Okay. I’ll be back in a few hours and the guest room is always open.” I said grabbing my purse and closing the door. 

I called a cab to take me to the most popular night club. The more people the better. The driver kept eyeing me throughout the entire car ride, and I get why, I did dress like a lady that wanted nothing but attention. 

When we stopped in front of the club, I jumped out and threw my money to the driver before he could say anything and walked away and into the club. 

The club was crowded as I had suspected, this was good this way I blended in. 

As I made my way to the bar part of the club, I felt insane amounts of prying eyes on me, but I chose to ignore all of them.

“I’d like the strongest drink you have here,” I said to the bartender as I slapped down a few bucks.

“Break up?” The bartender asked as he picked up the money. 

“You can say that,” I said holding the tears back. 

I waited as the male bartender, Elliot I had read on his tag, prepared my drink. All around me were couples dancing and grinding against each other. Jealousy. that's what I was feeling right now at the moment. 

The bartender brought back my drink and I downed it in a matter of seconds. What came afterward hit strong. The drink made my mind fuzzy and fluffy. That’s good. I wanted to feel the clouds. Right? 

“I’ll take three more of these.”  I slurred already dizzy. 

“I’m sorry miss but you can’t have more than three of these, they are very strong.” The bartender said back. 

“I’ll pay double,” I answered.

“I’m sorry miss, but it's against policy, and I have a good idea how you are feeling, and it may seem like a good idea right now, but it’ll suck later,” Elliot responds back. 

“Fine, two more than,” I said handing him more bills. 

He took the money without any words and walked to the back to prepare the drinks. I may be no profiler but I can sure as hell tell he thinks I’m psychotic.

Elliot brought back my drinks, and I gave him a quick thanks. I grabbed my second glass and stared around me again.  Happy couples everywhere. Ugh. I downed my second glass as an attractive man approached me. 

“Hey pretty lady, mind if I take you home for tonight?” The man asked. 

I thought about it. I really did. But I loved Spencer way too much. “No thank you,” I answered. 

“Come on.” The man said, grabbing my hand roughly. His face dangerously close to mine that I could smell his disgusting breath.

“NO THANKS,” I repeated trying to pull my wrists away.

His hand tightened against my arm. “Come on you whore! You're basically asking for it by the way you're dressed.” The man spat. 

I started struggling and pulling but the man wouldn’t let go one bit. 

“Hey let her go, the lady said no,” Elliot said approaching the counter towards us. 

The man looked at me in disgust and let go of my wrists and walked away stomping his feet. 

“Thanks,” I said as tears started spilling out of my eyes. 

“Yeah no problem, be safe okay?” He asked. 

“Yeah okay,” I answered as I chugged my last glass of alcohol.

I stood up, wobbling, and tried my best to make my way out of the club. 

I could still hear the music as I walked out of the club. It was pouring rain outside. Great. My stupid ass didn’t bring a jacket.  I saw a phone booth a few feet away and I quickly made my way to it, tripping and stumbling a bit. Everything around me was spinning and I felt like I could be flying right now. I closed the door to the phone booth and just clutched to the wall as I tried to sort out all my thoughts. 

Then an idea struck me. Call Spencer Reid. 

If I wasn’t drunk I wouldn’t have done it, but now it was too late, the numbers were already dialed, and the phone was already against my ear. 

On the fifth ring he picked up. He picked up. Picked up. He actually picked up.

“Hello?” Came Spencer's angelic voice, although he sounded pissed. 

“Spencer? Is- Is that you?” I slurred stuttering like crazy. I already knew but I had to make sure.

“Y/n is that you? Why do you sound drunk?” Spencer’s voice came.

“Of course dummy I’m drunk, why else would I be calling.” I laughed, bubbly hiccups erupting my mouth. 

“Why are you calling me y/n, it's one in the morning and I’m kind of busy.” He said, definitely pissed.  “Wait are you outside?”

“Y-yes,” I answered back.

There was a long pause. 

What I said next was not something I would have said if I wasn’t pissed drunk. “I really miss you Spence. And, and I love you so much and I hate that you left m-”

“Stop Y/n I don’t want to hear it. I told you two years ago that I don't love you.” Spencer stopped me.

“Spencer please, please, please. I’m s-s-sorry for whatever i- I did.” I sobbed tears, definitely pouring out of my eyes. 

“I’m sorry Y/n. I told you a million ti-.” Before he could finish, a female voice came on. “Hey babe who is that?”

CRACK. That was my heartbreaking. 

“I’m not your babe Amanda.” I barely hear,  my choked sobs were stopping me from focusing on anything. 

“Is-is that a woman?” I clocked out. 

“Yes it is, I told you I was kinda busy.” Spencer spat. 

That’s it. That’s when I snapped. “THAT’S IT IF YOU’RE GOING TO SLEEP WITH OTHER WOMEN, I WON’T LET YOU MEET HENRY, YOU BASTARD,” I screamed into the poor phone. 

My eyes immediately popped open in horror as I realized what I just yelled. I slapped my hand to my mouth in horror. Tears definitely still pouring out my eyes.

“Who’s Henry?” Spencer asked.

“NO. NO. NO. NO.” I screamed on the phone, still in denial. 

“Get dressed and get out of my house. GO!” I heard Spencer from a distance. “I’m coming to pick you up,” Spencer said to me.

“Why would you fucking do that?” I cried. 

“Because obviously you’re bat shit drunk Y/n. And plus if I left you to die in a random phone box somewhere. Rossi’s going to strangle me. Where are you?” Spencer exclaimed.

“I-I’m on third street in front of the club,” I answered calming down. 

“Okay bye.” He said and hung up. 

“BITCH!” I yelled into the deadline. 

Oh god I’m going to throw up.  I ran out of the phone booth and thankfully my hair is already pulled back. I basically threw up everything I ate for dinner. I rubbed my lips with my arm and saw that my red lipstick was rubbed on my arms which only meant one thing it was rubbed on my cheek too.

I stood by the side of the road both hands in front of me holding my handbag, drenched in rainwater, Mascara running down my soaked cheeks, lipstick smudged. And that’s exactly how I looked when Spencer pulled up on the side of the road. 

Spencer pulled the door open from his seat and motioned me into his car. I climbed into the car and grabbed the seat belt to fasten it but my head was so spiny it was impossible. Spencer grabbed the seat belt from my hands and roughly shoved it in. 

“God you look like a cheap whore,” Spencer stated as he pulled away from the crib.

“I KNOW YOU DON’T HAVE TO RUB IT IN,” I yelled, frustrated. 

“Jesus women calm down I’m just saying,” Spencer said calmly, eyes never leaving the road. 

I sat there in silence frustrated as hell. 

“So who’s Henry? Your new boyfriend?” Spencer sneered.

On any other day when I’m sober I would have played along with it, but no.

“No,” I answered staring straight ahead. 

“Then who is he?” Spencer asked, turning his head to me.

“No one.” I spat, making eye contact with him. 

“You can’t just bring a random guy up and not tell me!” Spencer said, clearly frustrated. 

“YES I CAN,” I yelled.

“JUST TELL ME JESUS CHRIST.” He yelled back.

I bit my lip as I started balling my eyes out. 

“Just tell me.” Spencer urged. 

“HE’S YOUR TWO-YEAR-OLD SON. OKAY NOW DROP IT!” I snapped. 

His eyes widened in surprise. I looked at him in horror, slapping my hand to my mouth. 

“I have a son?” Spencer asked, amazed, but also looking angry. “And you didn’t tell me for two years?” 

I just nodded covering the rest of my face crying into my hands. 

“When were you going to tell me?” He asked.

I didn’t answer.

“WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME?” Spencer yelled. 

I looked up at him and his face was all red and he was gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white. 

“I don’t know.” I choked out.

We neared my apartment building and Spencer parked his car. “Get out, I’ll call you when I’m less pissed at you.” Spencer managed between clenched teeth.

I just sat there cause I really didn’t know what to do.

“I SAID GET OUT OF MY CAR NOW!” Spencer yelled, his hands in the air now. 

“OKAY, BYE,” I screamed back and got out of the car and slammed the door shut. Spencer immediately drove away, no hesitation, and never looked back.

I climbed the stairs to my apartment, tears still pouring out my eyes, dress still soaked, and makeup all over. 

When I opened my apartment door Rossi stood up and looked at me. With one look Rossi knew and ran towards me to wrap me in a very tight hug

I dropped my bag onto the floor and hugged Rossi back, crying into his shoulder as he patted my wet hair. 

Part two?

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #mgg #mgg imagine #mgg x reader #angst #dr spencer reid smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #mgg fluff

[boneswriteswords]

And I'm not good giving ideas or prompts but mmmmmmmmm.... First kisses for Raphael or Leonardo and it's their s/o the one who initiated it???

A/N: Okay so I tried to keep it short but apparently I can’t do that. Thank you nonnie for sending this in. I appreciate it.

I picked Raph because I haven’t written for him in a while. 

Unbeta-d and probably horrible because I did not beta this and writing was more of a stream of conscious sort of thing so read at your own risk.

~~~~

It was a regular night.

Briefing for patrol. Patrol. Stopping a couple bad guys. Finishing patrol. Arguing with Leo over some stupid nitpicky thing. Stopping in to see Y/N as she closed up shop at 2am. Taking her home - part of the way on the tops of buildings with her tucked safely against him and the rest on the sidewalk below with her beside him. They had done this same routine for over a year, the night the same as the hundreds that came before it. He took the same path to her place so often that he is surprised that he can’t see his footprints embedded into the concrete.

And yet, tonight, something felt off. He couldn’t put his finger on it but there was something in the line of her shoulders and downward tilt of her mouth that concerned him, tension curling in his shoulders. Something has changed, if not their routine.

At first, he thinks that maybe it's because he is off. He thinks of the static building inside of him that makes every touch between them - every tiny brush of her fingers as she grips onto him, every bump of her shoulder as they walk - feel like lightning is hitting him. The touches linger for long minutes after they’ve ended.

She is lodged under his skin, a simmer wil-o-wisp flickering as it jumps from vein to vein. 

And he is scared that she knows. 

That she somehow found out about the thoughts that turn him over in his bed, wound up and unable to sleep. The thoughts that he spends most of his waking life trying to ignore because the suffocating sort of hope that he is prone to feeling is distracting and he doesn’t think he could stomach talking to Splinter about his inability to focus. 

If he was alone, he’d allow himself a few moments of self-pity, complaining about the cards he was dealt in this life and his inability to turn them around in his favor. He’d curse his form, his differences. He’d mourn for the life he never got to live. 

But he wasn’t alone. Y/N was with him, walking less than a foot away from him but still a hundred miles in the distance. She was smiling now though, the faintest upturn of colored lips, and he ached. 

“You alright?” he asked before he could stop himself, “You’ve been quiet all night. I was expecting the next installment of “Why wont my manager fire Nathan?”

She laughs and the sound rings through him. The blocks are quickly disappearing under their feet.

“Just thinking is all,” she responds, nudging him with her shoulder. He nudges back.’

“About what?”

“How to get Nathan fired,” she jokes, leaning into him and he can tell she is back in the present  completely. Her grin is brighter and he can’t help but grin back. He knew she was lying. Something was weighing on her heavily but he knew she wouldn’t talk about it until she was ready. 

The light from the street lamps cling to the line of her jaw, down the hollow of her throat, to rest on the edges of her collarbones. He wonders what it would be like to touch it. Would the light cling to him too? Or would it run from him?

He chooses not to respond but she nudges him again, adjusting her walk so she is touching him as much as she can while they walk, gravitating around him. His skin still feels electrified and he doesn’t want the sensation to stop. His brain is screaming at him to do the smart thing and take a step away from her, pull away so the static stops but his body disobeys. The hope valiantly tries to claw its way to the surface and he attempts to bury it in the hollow of his chest again. 

The silence that falls between them feels significant.

It feels like its building.

It feels like it's waiting for them to do something about it, taunting them with its weight. 

He knows she feels it too.

So he takes a breath, swallowing in an attempt to say Y/N’s name again, but before he can, she stops. He almost stumbles forward with the abruptness of her pause, only just realizing that they’ve made it to their destination.

His hope deflates like a balloon that hasn’t been tied off. Raph wasn’t a believer of fate, not in the way Donnie or Leo are, or in pre-established choices, like Mikey, but there is a sense that he’s missed a chance he will never have again. He keeps the disappointment off his face, the collapse can consume him later. 

He wouldn’t let her see that. 

Y/N swings her hand a little, her fingertips brushing the outside of her hands in the sweetest of touches. 

It feels like a snapped wire against his skin, sparking dangerously.

“It was a nice night. I had fun,” she says quietly and it sends a cacophony of thoughts through his head. It’s not something she would normally say to him when he took her home. It's not part of the routine. This part usually consisted of a smile, a hug, some variation of ‘good night,’ and him watching her enter the building  before climbing up to make sure she got inside her apartment. 

This is different. 

It also didn’t make any sense. 

“Yeah?” he answers once it becomes clear she is waiting for a response from him, “I -uh….”

“Yeah,” she interrupts, her eyes darting to meet his eye for a brief moment, “I always have fun with you.’

It feels like he swallowed his tongue. He tries to make his body move but it’s frozen. He can feel his heart stutter and pound and the blood rush from one place to the next and he can’t focus-

She pulls away, the smile still on her face, and starts up the stairs. He says something back but he isn’t sure what. It sounded garbled and distorted and he is fine with leaving it a mystery because he’d rather devote the brain power to watching her walk up the stairs. He didn’t have to justify why to anyone but if he did, he’d say he just wanted to make sure she got in the building ok. The stairs were a bit crooked too. She could trip and fall.

Yeah it sounds like bullshit in his head too but he knew the whole “I can’t bring myself to move because I’m too much a love-struck fool to move.”

Y/N pauses by the entrance, keys in hand - he can see them glittering, catching the light from the doorway. He’ll continue on the routine as normal and try to convince himself that nothing about tonight was anything different than all the others on the way home. He’ll put it out of his mind as best he can until tomorrow night, when he picks her up from work again. 

She remains still for a few moments, head bowed and he wishes he could see her face. He wants to know why she’s stopped. He wants to know why tonight feels so different. He wants to know why it feels like he’s going to collapse and reform in the middle of a New York street. The longer she pauses, the more it feels like the sidewalk has consumed his feet. He is rooted down, no longer in control of his body. 

He watches as she turns around, keys back in her pocket, and comes back down the steps, faster than when she went up them and it feels like all the air has disappeared from his lungs. 

So, when she’s back by his side, hand reaching up to tug him down to her level, whispering “Please?”, all he can do is nod. He’s wide-eyed when he feels her lips on his, the hope inside of him crashing against his insides in victory and relief as her hands come to land on his cheeks.

He leans into it completely, arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her bodily against him and tilting his head to deepen the kiss until there are colors flashing beneath his eyelids. Her lips are soft and smell like vanilla and he chases the taste of her, running his tongue along her lips until she lets him in. She sighs against his mouth and it almost knocks him to his knees. 

A small eternity later and she pulls away, looking small and awestruck and a bit dazed. She has the same look she gets when she gets stuck in a sentence because she can’t think of the right word. He’s smitten. 

“I wish I had done that sooner,” she says, voice nothing more than a wisp, moving her hands over his cheeks and down his neck, the static crackling as she does. Her eyes are roaming all over his face, looking for any sign that she overstepped. He could see the thoughts swirling behind her eyes, the perceived consequences of her boldness weighing sullen and heavy. 

“Me too,” he rasps, tugging her back into another kiss before she could doubt herself. 

By the time she makes it to her apartment, he’s lost count of how many times they’ve fallen back into each other, murmuring that they need to stop. Parting seemed to hurt her as much as it did him and her reluctance to let him go sent him into a fit of giddiness. He’s grinning as he watches her enter her apartment and slide down the door, her fingers pressed to her lips as she giggles.

Tonight was strange, he decides as he climbs up to the roof and jumps to the next building. There is new energy in his body. 

But it's safe to say that this break in routine was the best thing that ever happened to him. He couldn’t wait until tomorrow. 

~~~~

End

~~~~

#ask #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #raphael #raph #raphael x reader #tmnt imagine #My writing

[theladyofdeath]

Rags & Riches {15}

Summary: An A Court of Thorns and Roses Fanfiction. 19th century AU. Based on the prompt sent in by @cat5313 All characters belong to SJM, I am just a fan with a plot.

Warning: Mature content strung throughout.

A/N: totally cried while writing this chapter, and i have no idea why. so, take that as you wish..

Leave a comment to be tagged & tell me what you think! :)

They had been on the ship sailing to the continent, for Hybern, for four days. Nearing the port, Rhysand was near death.

“Who would have known that the Lord of Velaris had such seasickness?”

Rhysand groaned, opening his eyes to find Cassian, humor dancing in his hazel eyes.

“I hate you,” Rhysand murmured. “And your ability to be on the water without vomiting every five minutes.” 

Cassian chuckled. “Well, we should be there within the hour, they say.”

Rhysand rolled over on his cot. “I do not think that makes me feel any better.” 

Cassian nodded, fully in agreement. 

The journey had been tense, except for when the ale came out. When the ale came out, everything became better, if only for a little while.

“Training begins tomorrow at dawn,” Cassian continued. “They say they expect the first attack to happen soon after. So, tonight is our last night of freedom. For some time, at least.”

“I don’t care what happens,” Rhysand mumbled. “As long as I get off this fucking ship and back onto dry land.” 

Trying not to laugh at the miserable bastard in the cot next to his, Cassian took a clay pipe out of his sack and packed it with tobacco. “Have a smoke. You’ll feel better.”

“Every time you say that I do it,” Rhysand mumbled. “And every time I do it, I do not feel better whatsoever.”

“Not even a bit?” Cassian asked, igniting a match. A moment later, their end of the cabin was clouded with smoke. 

“Well,” Rhysand began, opening his eyes. “Perhaps a bit.”

Cassian passed his pipe across the way before leaning back against the wooden wall of the cabin. “One day I’ll be able to afford cigars.” 

“Yeah?” Rhysand asked, passing it back. “After the war, you think you’ll give the business a shot?”

Cassian shrugged. “I’ve got nothing to lose. I’ll send some of my soldier’s pay back home to my mum and sister, but, I’ll be able to save some. Not a lot, of course, but enough.”

Rhysand nodded, resting on his hands intertwined behind his head. “And what of Lady Nesta?”

Cassian remained silent for a minute, bonding with his tobacco. “I will keep my promise. Of course, we will see if she still wants me. We do not know how long this will last. What if years go by and I return then? She will most likely be already married. To a Lord. I am fully aware, no matter how I feel, that I am far outside her social class.”

“But you love her?” Rhysand asked, staring at the ceiling.

“Yes,” Cassian said. “I told her as much.”

“Did she say the same to you?”

Cassian snorted. “I do not think that Nesta has ever told anyone that she has loved them. But, she made me promise to come back to her. I like to think, in Nesta’s own way, that was her telling me that she loved me, too.” 

Rhysand nodded, taking the pipe from Cassian’s outstretched arm and breathing it in, before handing it back. “Feyre tells me Nesta is a difficult woman.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“You like that about her?” Rhysand grinned. “That she’s difficult?”

“Apparently,” Cassian laughed, keeping the pipe close to his lips. “She never bores me, that’s certain. She is wild, and passionate, behind a cold mask. But when we are alone...she is fierce.”

“Are we talking about in bed?” Rhysand asked. “Because I could see that.”

Cassian opened his mouth to say no, but then he reconsidered. Rhysand, seeing his hesitation, laughed. 

“Ah,” the violet-eyed Lord continued. “I suddenly see Lady Nesta in a whole new light.”

Cassian rummaged through his sack, pulling out a novel that was snuck into his bag the night before he left. 

The works of William’s Wordsworth. 

It was a beautiful book, pristine condition. She had placed it next to his old, beat-up copy of Keats.

He ran his fingers over the cover, taking another puff from his pipe. 

“When we make love, she takes the mask off,” Cassian said. “The only time she takes off her mask, completely. Her eyes grow soft. She unclenches her jaw. Her shoulders are no longer rigid. She lets herself feel when we fuck. She never lets herself feel anything, but she lets herself when we make love. Before I left, she was starting to take the mask off when we weren’t fucking, too. When we were together, no matter what we were doing...the mask came off.”

Rhysand watched him, having rolled onto his side. He nodded. “Feyre told me that she feels too much, much more than most people, so she pretends she feels nothing and cares for no one.”

“She is very good at pretending,” Cassian said, a smile growing. “But she does not pretend with me.” 

Cassian had told Rhysand of he and Nesta once they left days before, after Nesta had kissed him goodbye. Rhysand had not asked much about it then, surely not wanting to pry.

“We will come back from this,” Rhysand said. “You will keep your promise to her.”

Cassian nodded, leaning his head back as he blew smoke into the air above. He cleared his throat. “What of Feyre?”

Rhysand chuckled. “Are we back to talking about in bed? She is mad, but I am sure you assumed as much.”

Cassian laughed, finding the eyes of his friend. “I do not assume anything of your wife in bed.”

“She’s very dominant,” Rhysand purred. “She likes to be on top.”

Cassian swore. “I’m sure you love that.”

“What’s not to love?” Rhysand said, sighing affectionately. “I just lay back and relax. She does all the work. Very sharp nails, though, my chest still looks as if I was attacked by a wild animal.”

Cassian laughed, so loudly that a few others looked from their cots to the back corner where the two sat. “She is a good woman, Feyre.”

Rhysand’s eyes softened. He nodded. “She is. Perfect. I had to leave her too soon, my wife. We fucked all through the night, after the wedding guests left. No protection.”

Cassian looked sideways at his friend, passing his pipe along the small gap between them. Rhysand took it as Cassian said, “Trying for a child?”

Rhsyand blew smoke as he passed the pipe back. He shrugged. “I know we keep saying that we will come back from this, but if we do not….I know she has my estate, everything I have is hers, now. But...if she is with child, although I know that it is not a certain thing….I know it often takes time to get pregnant.” Rhysand cleared her throat, eyes shining in the dimmed light of the cabin. “We wanted to try, in case I do not come back. If I do not make it out of this, she may have a child to look at, and love, and think of me.” 

Cassian listened with a heavy heart. There were no words to say, none that would make a difference. They could laugh and joke and drink and smoke all they wanted, but they both knew what they were forced to leave behind. 

Cassian opened the golden-bound book of Wordsworth to a poem that had been bookmarked. She had underlined the first half, eight lines, from I Travelled Among Unknown Men.

Cassian put his pipe down as he read:

“I travelled among unknown men,

In lands beyond the sea;

Nor, England! did I know till then

What love I bore to thee.

'Tis past, that melancholy dream!

Nor will I quit thy shore

A second time; for still I seem

To love thee more and more.”

He unfolded the note, the note he had read countless times since finding the book within his bag. The note she had used as a bookmark. 

Dear Cassian,

I hope you find this soon. I know you only have Keats to read, and I thought you would like something else to help you pass the time. Wordsworth is one of my favorites. I think you will enjoy him.

Do not worry about me while you are away. I will be fine, I have Feyre to keep me company, as she also has to send away someone she cares for. But I will be worrying about you, every minute of every day. I fear for you, for what you will have to endure, for what you will have to see. 

But when you find yourself in despair, remember that I am thinking of you. Remember that I am at home, waiting for you to return. As Wordsworth reminds us in this poem, sometimes we do not realize how much we care for someone until they are taken from us. I have always known that I care for you, Cassian, but now, on the eve before you leave, my heart aches. The thought of you leaving me leaves a hollowness inside of me that I have never known.

(Even though you are snoring obnoxiously behind me. Try to control that. Surely the other men in your camp will poke fun at you for it.)

I assume you will wake again soon, and we will make love once more. When you are lonely, remember what it feels like to have my hands on your skin, to have my mouth against your own. I know that is what I will be thinking of when the loneliness consumes me. Of how it feels when you are inside of me, holding onto me as if I am far more precious than I am. 

I pushed you away. And because of that, we did not have enough time. So you must promise me, Cassian, every day, that you will come back to me.

Write to me.

Promise me.

Come back to me.

Nesta

Cassian folded up the note, and put it back in the book to mark the page. He had just put the book back into his bag as Rhysand grabbed a bucket from under his cot, and wretched. 

Cassian reached across the way and patted his friend on the back. “We’ll be there soon, Rhys. Almost there.”

He just didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse.

~~~~~

Feyre found Nesta in the library. She sat on the bench by the window, a book open on her lap, but her eyes were far away. As Feyre sat next to her, she realized her sister was staring out at the stables.

“Hey,” she said, quietly.

Nesta met her eyes but said nothing.

“We got a letter from Elain,” Feyre continued, and smiled. “She has news.”

She handed the letter to her sister, who read over it quickly. Her eyes were wide as she neared the end. She looked to Feyre, and laughed. “She’s with child?”

Feyre nodded, excitedly. “She’s with child.”

Nesta’s laughter faded and her eyes welled up with tears. She quickly looked away, back out the window.

Feyre leaned back against the glass, her hand resting on top of her eldest sister’s. She had given Nesta plenty of space, she knew how she operated. She had not said a word about Nesta’s goodbye to Cassian days before. They had eaten their meals together, but in silence. Otherwise, they had kept to themselves.

“Azriel had to go,” Nesta said, quietly. “Elain is now alone and with child.”

“She is strong,” Feyre said. “Stronger and far more brave than we ever gave her credit for.”

Nesta nodded her agreement. “It just is not fair, that is all.”

“I know,” Feyre agreed. “My husband left the day after we wed.”

Nesta nodded, eyes distant beyond the glass. “I am truly sorry.” 

“It is alright,” Feyre said, although she did not truly feel that way. Nesta knew it, too. “And what of you?”

“What of me?” Nesta breathed.

“Is it alright?”

Nesta met her sister’s gaze. They shared the same eyes, the eyes of their mother. “I have yet to decide.”

“Are you in love with him?” Feyre asked.

“He said he was in love with me,” Nesta whispered. 

“That does not answer my question,” Feyre said.

Nesta shook her head. “I could not say it back.”

“Because it is not true?”

“Because once you say it,” Nesta began, voice breaking, “it’s out there. And there is no taking it back. If I said it, and he dies in this bloody war….I could not say it.”

Feyre nodded. “I understand that.”

Nesta snorted. “How so? You married Rhysand the day before he left!”

Feyre sighed, not phased by Nesta’s rise in anger, by the emotion shining in her eyes. “Yes, I did. Because I wanted to be his wife. Even if he does not return, I will still be his wife. I will always be his wife. But, that does not mean that it does not scare me, Nesta. I gave my heart away, and he took it with him to the continent. The thought of my heart never coming back is terrifying.”

Nesta shook her head. 

“They will come back,” Feyre said. “Both of them.”

Nesta nodded, staring at their hands.

“Until then, I am here,” Feyre promised. “I will not go anywhere.”

“Nor will I,” Nesta said, jaw clenched. 

Feyre smiled, a comforting gesture that Nesta did not return. 

But she did not move her hand. Neither of them did.

~~~~~

Elain sat in an old armchair she had purchased from an elderly woman across the hall who no longer had any need for it, a black cat sitting on her lap.

She had found it, a stray, searching for scraps in town. Elain had immediately picked the underweight cat up, and taken him home. 

“Well, Knight,” she said, “we now have an armchair and a bed.”

She looked to the thin, rickety bed she had gotten after selling her jewels. Big enough for two, if they liked to cuddle. 

Which she and Azriel surely did.

Until his return, Knight would be curling up with her every night. For how many nights, she was not certain. 

She had written to her sisters, telling them she was with child. She knew they would be overjoyed. 

“Well, Knight, how shall we spend our evening?” she asked.

The cat meowed, softly.

“A lovely thought,” Elain agreed. “Perhaps we should read for a while, or go downstairs to the shop and talk to Miryam downstairs. She should be closing up soon.”

Miryam’s aunt owned the candy shop down below, but her aunt had grown ill so Miryam was running it for her. Elain and her had become quick friends. 

Knight did not respond. When Elain looked at her lap, his eyes were closed and he was breathing softly. 

With a laugh, Elain put her palm against her stomach. “Well, I suppose we will just stay in, then. The three of us.”

Elain closed her eyes and prayed to whoever was listening that Azriel arrived on the Continent safely. 

And she hoped that he knew that she was thinking about him, and that she loved him fiercely. 

Elain sat in the armchair in their quiet, little apartment, until she drifted into a deep sleep. 

~~~~~

It had taken Azriel a moment to steady his legs once stepping off the ship. He was not sure what time it was, but the sun was beginning to sink. He looked around. The continent did not look much different than home. 

Three ships had docked, and untrained soldiers were unloading. 

Azriel hadn’t gotten far when he heard his name being called. He quickly scanned the crowd until he saw Cassian and Rhysand, hurrying toward him, the latter pale and stumbling.

“I am glad to see you both,” Azriel said. He had just spent days alone in the middle of the ocean. “How was your journey?”

“Not bad,” Cassian said, as Rhysand doubled over and puked among the grass. “For me, at least. Rhys here gets seasick very easily, apparently.”

Rhysand stood up and wiped his mouth with his shirtsleeve. “Fuck.”

Azriel nodded, trying to rein in his smile. “Well, at least we are on land now.”

Rhysand groaned.

“We are meant to gather at the foot of the hill,” Cassian said, gesturing behind Azriel. “We will begin setting up camp, hopefully by the time it gets dark.”

Azriel sighed, hiking the strap of his bag up higher on his shoulder. “Shall we, then?”

Cassian clapped Rhysand on the back, who nearly fell over from the impact. “Do we have a choice?”

“Afraid not,” Azriel grumbled.

“I’m going to die before I even reach camp,” Rhysand mumbled.

Cassian met Azriel’s gaze with a grin. “I have also learned that Lord Rhysand is quite overdramatic.”

“Fuck you,” Rhysand crooned.

“Only if I get lonely enough, then I suppose you’ll do,” Cassian promised with a wink. Rhysand laughed and shook his head, pushing his hair back. “Until then, soldiers, we walk.”

Azriel nodded, keeping next to the others as they joined the line of men.

It had begun. 

~~~~~

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @mariamuses @a-happybird @amusicalbookworm @manoncrochanblackbeak @alifletcher2012 @candid-confetti @fandoms-everywhere-united @mis-lil-red@littlehoneyybee @abillionlittlepieces @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @awesomelena555 @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @tswaney17 @jemma-nessian-and-elriel @rhysandsrightknee @gendryaforthemasses @dayanna-hatter @thebluemartini @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @julemmaes @christiashadows @sleeping-and-books @itsme-malin @agnez312 @cat5313 @amren-courtofdreams @chemica @empress-ofbloodshed @islamonna @illyrianbeauty  @sleeping-and-books @queenofxhearts @sleeping-and-books @aedionashryver-wolfofthenorth @queenofillea1 @mynewdreamwasyou @levivlio @hellolenas @burritowithfeels @that-other-pineapple @girl-who-reads-the-books @raghad-50725@musicmaam @rowaelinforeverworld @negativenesta  @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @gloriouspaintercreatorbandit@sannelovesreading @nerdperson524 @ireallyshouldsleeprn @nerdperson524 @mariamuses @gorl-power @booklover242 @rowaelinforeverworld @regular-nessian-trash @izou1204 @aelin-rowan-whitehorn @opheliatheemerald @eversincebeirut @musicmaam @ladybookwrm​ @santas-dwynwen​ @starryandbooks​ @candid-confetti​ 

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm #nessian #feysand #elriel

[purplesurveys]

1198

Have you ever bought a YouTuber’s merch?  No. Most of the merch that had been put out when I was still into YouTubers were always underwhelming and overpriced, anyway.

Do you think oatmeal tastes better when made with water or milk?  Eugh, I don’t like oatmeal. Ate it everyday for breakfast as a kid and I just want nothing to do with anymore.

Have you ever left a note in a library book?  No. I’m pretty sure that counted as vandalism or at least under some kind of violation, so I never did anything to my borrowed books beyond reading them.

What time of day do you prefer to wash your hair?  There’s no time of day for me; I just wash it whenever I feel like showering.

Has anyone ever spread lies about you?  Just a couple times when I was in like middle school but it was all very superficial stuff that I never think about.

Have you ever taken a photograph with a celebrity? If so, did it turn out the way you wanted, or do you wish you could retake it?  Nah. I freak out about the idea of meeting celebrities and always turn down or pass up any opportunity I get lmao. I don’t handle nervousness well so I don’t trust myself to be able to behave or speak properly.

If you could move out of your home country permanently, would you? If so, where would you go?  Yeah, anything to get out of this shithole. I’d love to move to Canada.

Is there a celebrity that everyone else seems to love, but you find totally overrated? Why is it that you don’t like them?  Taylor Swift. Her music’s just never fallen under my personal preferences, but I don’t actively hate on her or bash her when there’s been no reason to.

If you could volunteer for any charity, which one would you choose? Do you think it’s more important to help humans, or are animal and environmental charities equally important?  I don’t think acts of charity should be compared. Personally though, I tend to lean towards causes for animals.

Do you prefer holidays where you relax, or actually do things? My family alwaysssssss makes sure our itineraries are absolutely packed when we go on vacations. Seems like a waste of money to travel to a new place just to stay holed up in our hotel room.

Do you think that after we die our spirit is still alive?  No, I don’t believe in those to begin with.

Has anybody ever told you that you could be a model? Yeah, usually because of my build. I hate posing and being in front of a camera, though.

Do you use different kinds of moisturizer for different body parts? ie. hand lotion for your hands, face cream for your face. Or do you just use one moisturizer for all body parts?  I don’t use skincare products, though I should probably start because my skin is finally biting me in the ass and giving me breakouts 23 years later lol.

Have you ever felt like you were someone’s rebound? Nope.

Has anybody ever broken up with you over something really pathetic? What was it? Have you ever been dumped in a disrespectful way? (eg. through text, through a friend..)  I wouldn’t say it was over something pathetic. She had her reasons and I respect that. Doesn’t mean I can’t resent her.

Did you have a lot of role models as a kid?  Not really.

Do you feel like anyone looks up to you? Why or why not? I don’t know, but this isn’t a compliment I get a lot either. I don’t actively try to be a role model, so I don’t care about maintaining such an image.

What was the last thing you found offensive? My mom often throws around subtle homophobic remarks in passing. She knows I hate them because I shoot her a glare every time she does it, but for some reason she never learns...

Who is the nicest person you know?  Angela.

Do you feel safe in your country?  In a country where the president is a blatant liar, misogynist, has anger and cursing issues, and enables extrajudicial killings? Safety is a dream here.

Do you feel safe where you live?  Very technically speaking, yeah I do since it’s a gated village so nothing ever happens here.

Have you been falsely diagnosed with something by a bad doctor?  Not necessarily misdiagnosed, but I’m pretty sure I was prescribed the wrong set of medicines for my UTI last year...nothing came out of taking those pills and I felt just as sick (and dead) as I was after a couple of days. The only reason I got better was Angels’s mom is a doctor and gave me the right meds to take, which worked on me within a couple of hours.

Have you ever had a doctor refuse to treat you?  No.

Name the strangest game you’ve ever played (video game or real game): WarioWare is suuuuuuuch a weird game haha. Doesn’t stop me from enjoying it, though.

Do you know anyone who has been struck by lightning before?  Not that I know of.

Which cartoon character would you want to keep as a pet? Gary from Spongebob.

Do you like marshmallows?  Haaaaaaaate them. I never got used to its weird, sticky texture so I always take them out when they’re included in like drinks and desserts.

What is your favorite flavor of candy cane?  I don’t consume candy canes much. Too sweet.

Have you ever fostered an animal?  Nope.

Do you still take hot showers when it’s hot out?  No, I want the water to be as cold as possible.

When writing $ sign, do you draw one line through the S or two?  I do two, though I rarely have any reason to write down the dollar sign in general.

What animal have you always wanted as a pet but couldn’t have?  We weren’t allowed to have dogs as kids because we “wouldn’t be able to take care of them” – which they were right about, anyway. But we have two now, so it all worked out in the end.

List three people you’ve had crushes on:  Gabie, Andi...and that’s it, really.

Have you ever thrown up from cramps?  No. Fortunately my period cramps have never been that bad, and the only time they can be a headache is if they’re the leg crampjp that sends me waking up in the middle of the night.

List three people you had a hard time forgiving.  I don’t really forgive. If someone fucks up badly enough that I feel the need to cut them off, that’s pretty much it for me.

Who is the most spiritual person you know?  I don’t know.

Would you ever start a vlog?  Sure. I’ve always wanted to try it, but I don’t have a decent vlogging camera and am not invested enough in the venture to spend on one. In general I’m also not comfortable being in front of the camera, as I’ve already shared several times here. Vlogging does look fun though, and I definitely would’ve already given it a shot if only I felt more comfortable.

Are your dreams coming true yet?  Some of the short-term ones, sure.

Do you struggle with depression?  I go through phases of it, but I’ve never been formally diagnosed just because I’ve never booked a trip to the psychiatrist.

Are you haunted by your past?  No

What medical conditions do you have?  Do scoliosis and lactose intolerance count? Those are the main issues I have.

Do you use a Magic Bullet?  Why did I think this was a vibrator...? Anyway, I looked it up and no, I’ve never used one.

What does your apron look like?  I’ve never had to use one regularly.

What are your favorite spicy foods?  Curry, tteokbokki, ramen, samgyeopsal with ssamjang, spicy fried chicken.

Which do you like better: being an adult or being a kid?  Being an adult has a lot more freedom to it even though I have to go through heavier and deeper shit, so it’s still more worth it to me.

Were you excited to be a teenager on your thirteenth birthday?  I was heavily depressed back then, and was for a while, so I didn’t have any feelings about turning 13. I don’t even remember my birthdays up until the 15th.

Did you feel insecure in high school?  In the first half, yeah. But I started opening up more and gaining friends by junior year, so at that point I wasn’t feeling too shy anymore.

Would you ever be friends with someone who was suicidal?  I hate this question that I am simply ignoring it.

Who was the biggest bully in high school?  My school didn’t tolerate bullies so no one ever dared to be one, in the grand scheme of things. But back in kindergarten Kaira used to love targeting me - she was my big bully before she became my friend, lol.

What was your favorite class in high school? History, of course. I personally didn’t like literature but I enjoyed English classes, just because it was easy and was a guaranteed A+ in my report card.

Would you rather have a daughter or a son?  Daughter. 

Have you ever written to an advice columnist? Nope.

Have you ever had a doctor not believe what you told him?  Not really, but I’ve had a doctor be a total asshole towards me before.

If you’re female, would you feel uncomfortable having a male gynecologist?  No.

Do you like Lisa Frank?  No.

What gives you nightmares?  I don’t really get nightmares.

Were you ever hospitalized as a child?  Nope. I was hospitalized one time, and I had been 11 then.

Did you get senior pictures taken?  Yeah, for both high school and college.

What color is your bicycle? The family bike is blue and silver. Not that I could ride it, lol.

Did you ever have to take home a fake baby in health class?  No...is that a practice in other schools? That’s so weird if it was.

Would you rather wear ivory or white on your wedding day? What color will your bridesmaids wear?  White. Ivory can be for the bridesmaids, actually.

Would you rather have a swimming pool or trampoline?  Swimming pool. Trampolines are neat, but I would get bored of them so quickly.

Do you think babies are cute? For the most part yes, the only exception being if I have to be exposed with a baby/toddler that is prone to screech-crying. My patience is an extremely thin line when it comes to children like that lol and I FEEL BAD for feeling like so... but I just can’t deal with harsh sounds like that one.

Do you dream about the future a lot?  I guess I daydream sometimes but it’s nothing obsessive.

Do you think about your past a lot?  I’ll daydream or feel resentful sometimes, depending on what or who I’m thinking about lol. But I don’t stay in the past for too long.

How good are you at living in the moment?  I’m a lot better at it. It’s nice to be in the now.

Have you ever questioned God’s existence?  I did starting when I was 10, and I also disowned my religion by that time.

Vanilla frosting or chocolate? Chocolate foreverrrrr.

What’s your favorite foreign cuisine?  It’s always a three-way tie among Indian, Malaysian, and Thai.

Have you ever moved to another state?  No. We don’t even live in states.

Did you do anything productive today?  Well I had work today, so yeah I’d say I was. I had two meetings and worked on a bunch of spreadsheets and decks, so it was a pretty productive day.

Can you say the alphabet backwards?  Nope.

Do you like flowers?  Sure, but I’m not obsessed. It always feels nice to receive them, though.

Have you ever thought you were gonna die?  Every single time I get catcalled by men I always have the fear that they’d go all the way and drag me away to my death. That’s why I’m usually in shock whenever it happens and I’m never able to retort.

What kind of mood are you in today?  Super relieved because it’s Friday. A bit guilty because I had Starbucks delivered when I had already spent a lot this week, but I keep telling myself I deserve it after working all week haha. I just wanna enjoy my coffee and salmon dill sandwich in peace lmaooooo

What are you craving right now?  This salmon sandwich I ordered, so I’m hella glad I got it.

Is there anyone you would seriously punch right now if you had the chance?  Maybe shove, but not punch.

What is worse, physical or emotional pain?  Physical. My pain tolerance is extremely low, lol.

Have you ever walked in on somebody doing something… questionable? I don’t think I have.

If you were to make videos on YouTube, what would they be of?  I think just doing the trendy games like the Lie Detector game would be fun haha. I wouldn’t take it too seriously.

Posting pictures of yourself in a bathing suit on the internet - ok or not? ...It’s 2021.

Do you typically laugh when somebody falls down?  If it’s a close friend or a relative I’m close with, yeah. Anyone else I would immediately try to help.

What is the most disturbing movie you’ve ever watched?  Eraserhead or Under the Skin, which I didn’t even bother finishing.

Your opinion of Katy Perry, please?  I like her older songs.

If you could say anything to your Mom right now… what would it be?  Stop acting like a brat when you don’t get your way. You’re literally reaching 50.

#survey #surveys