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#charlotte writes
doomed-syko · 3 months
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Right Back Where We Started From | Robert Keating x Fem!reader
summary: Flying home for Christmas seemed like a great idea until you’re snowed in and stuck on an icy runway… for the foreseeable future. Even worse? The person in the seat next to you is the guy who broke your heart a year ago
word count: 3.5k
warnings: angsty, exes to lovers (kinda), fluff, swearing, mention of alcohol, my bad writing as always, the usual really
author’s note: i have returned to my roots and am back with a robert christmas fic, everyone rejoice. this time a bit different. as you can tell, i’ve rewatched normal people while writing this – to all my robert keating and paul mescal enjoyers, this one is for you x
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“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”        
You hadn’t thought it would be possible, but your already bad day had just gotten worse somehow, which was kind of an achievement in itself.
It was bad enough that you had slept through your alarm this morning and had rushed into work over an hour late (the sudden onset of winter and heavy snowfall delaying your arrival even longer), which was followed by your suitcase breaking as you were about to leave your flat for Heathrow and you had to quickly find something to repair the broken zipper with. The bad luck didn't end there of course. When you did finally make it to the airport - ten minutes before check-in for your flight closed - you almost got run over by some busy businessman who didn't look where he was going and, in the process, rammed his metal suitcase against your knee, which had been pulsating and in pain ever since. Your flight being delayed by an hour and twenty minutes was truly only the cherry on top.
But even then, none of those things could compare to the mixture of feelings you felt bubbling up inside you when you realized who had just sat down in the seat right next to you and who was about to sit right next to you for the next hour and a half or so.
None other than your bassist ex-boyfriend whose band was almost everywhere these days. Of course, it had to be Robert Keating.
For a few seconds, you thought about the best way to approach this whole thing. Ignore him and pretend he wasn’t there? Put on a happy face and try to be nice to him? Even though the mere thought of your breakup still made your heart ache and sting every time you thought about it, thought about him. None of those seemed like good ideas.
Before either of you could decide how to approach this awkwardness, a decision was made for you. In the form of the voice of a flight attendant over the intercom system.
“Welcome on board British Airways flight BA 838 to Dublin Airport, due to the heavy snowfall and an icy runway, our start is delayed by at least thirty minutes,” a murmur went through the crowd. “Our cabin crew will be coming around, handing out free drinks and snacks, we apologize profusely for the delay!”
You must’ve really pissed off someone in your last life because there was no way this was real life. How could literally everything possibly go wrong in one single day?
“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Robert echoed your words from earlier, the absurdity of it all was the last straw for you and you started uncontrollably giggling to yourself.
“You seem to be in a good mood.” Rob sighed and you knew without looking at him that his face was pulled into a grimace. It was safe to say that he was not having fun right now.
“Oh, believe me,” you stopped chuckling and turned your attention to your former lover, who did indeed look like he wanted to be anywhere but stuck on an icy tarmac right about now. “I’ve actually had one of the worst days of my life today.” You shrugged your shoulders. “At this point, I’ve just stopped trying to make any sense of it.”
Before you knew it you told him about everything that had gone wrong for you up until that point. Broke suitcase and all.
You even showed him your knee that had been massacred by that man and his heavy suitcase and realised that it actually had started bleeding. No wonder it kept pulsating with pain.
Those damn businessmen and their way too expensive, way too heavy metal suitcases
“I feel like I've been talking your ear off for way too long now,” you smiled awkwardly. Seems like 'put on a happy face and try to be nice' was the plan you had chosen. “Now tell me, why are you in London on the 22nd? Shouldn’t you be already home with the family?”
You hated that you still knew what he and his family did every Christmas. You hated that you still knew a lot about him actually.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Rob replied. And just like that, operation 'put on a happy face and try to be nice' was fucked. “We had a label meeting a few days ago, with the big boss,” He joked. Looked like you didn’t mess up your chances of keeping this civil after all. “The lads all flew home on Wednesday, but I needed a day just for myself, to decompress or something like that… It has been a long year you know? So much has happened in the last twelve months, and I’ve had almost no days for just myself.”
“Yeah, busy year,” you acknowledged. You couldn’t escape the band anymore; they were everywhere these days. And as much as it hurt to see or hear about him everywhere you went; it made you happy to see them doing so well.
You were about to say something when the voice of the flight attendant from earlier came over the intercom again, this time informing you that due to the weather, your delay would continue but that you had to stay on the plane for safety reasons. At this point, you wondered if you would even make it to Dublin before Christmas… maybe you just had to spend Christmas in London alone, so the bad luck that seemed to follow you around could not rub off on anyone else.
At least the cabin crew would – once again – make their rounds and hand out free drinks, food, and some blankets.
Realizing that you hadn’t registered how cold it actually was on the plane, you made sure to profusely thank the brunette flight attendant, who handed you one of the British Airways branded blue fleece blankets, wrapping it around your upper body and legs you had pulled up on the seat after taking your shoes off. There was no way you were going to be (physically) uncomfortable today.
You turned your attention back to Rob, only to see him already looking at you. Actually looking at you and not the 'barely holding eye contact' thing he had done earlier, now he was staring at you, his eyes rapidly moving like he had forgotten what you looked like and was now trying to commit every part of you to his memory.
It made that mixture of feelings you had felt bubbling up inside you when you had first seen him earlier, return. Just this time, the feelings of butterflies in your stomach, that you always used to get whenever you had looked at him, were more prominent than any other feeling.
Fuck… great work! Thirty-five minutes spent next to your ex and boom… you were right back to feeling head over heels for him.
You sat in silence for a few minutes, neither of you knowing what to say now, because what do you talk about with your ex-partner when you didn’t plan to see them never mind being stuck in an airplane that could not take off due to the sudden onset of winter. No one had ever written a handbook of how to act if you were ever stuck in a situation like this. No one. Especially not on how to act when you are actually still very much in love with said former partner, making the doubts you had always had about you going your separate ways, appear even greater.
The breakup had been mutual. You both barely had time for each other anymore and at that point in time it had seemed like the only reasonable decision to make. You had finished university that summer, he was practically always on tour or in the studio and when you had gotten that job offer for your current job in London you realized that things would only get harder from there on out. So, you moved to London, Robert stayed in Dublin – when he was not on tour – and then you broke up.
Of course, you had promised to stay in touch, to stay friends but you both knew that that was not happening. You couldn’t stay friends with him, not when you were still head over heels in love with him.
That’s why the breakup still hurt, even though you had not been with him in well over a year. You had tried to move on, had hooked up with a few people here and there, had gone out on the dates your new friends had set you up on but no one made you feel the way he did, so you gave up trying and slowly came to terms with the fact that you would maybe never be as in love again as you had been when you were twenty.
You sighed, trying to shake your thoughts as you fished your phone out of your jeans pocket.
20:21
Even with the initial hour and twenty minutes delay of the flight, you should’ve been long in the air by now, scratch that you should be more than halfway to Dublin by now. You sighed again, before typing out a message to your mother, telling her that you were still in Heathrow and didn’t know when you'd be home. Her answer came quickly, reassuring you that she would be there to pick you up from the airport when you landed, whenever that may be.
Putting your phone away you turned your attention back on Rob, who seemed to be so deep in his own thoughts, that even though he was looking at you, he was more looking through you.
“Are you alright?” You sounded more concerned than you were.
“Yeah yeah, I’m all right. Just a bit tired,” He smiled at you. “It's just– you know… I have missed you. A lot.”
Oh.
“I’ve been for a while actually,” He chuckled awkwardly. “The last year has been one of the strangest of my life. The juxtaposition of all the success with the lads, all the sold-out shows, festivals… all the fun and good stuff that has happened and then missing you all the time, missing us. It is a lot.”
Robert’s admission hit you like a ton of bricks. Holy fucking shit.
“Don’t say that.” Your voice was breaking. Why was your voice breaking?
“No, I mean it,” Rob's voice wasn’t steady, but he continued, reaching for your hands, and giving them a gentle squeeze. It was the first time he touched you that evening, leaving your skin feeling like it was on fire everywhere his met yours.
“No, you don’t get to say that shit after I spent over a year being heartbroken.” Your emotions were running wild now. “Not after I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that I’ll probably never love anyone like I love you.”
There it was. Your confession. Out in the open.
“We both decided it was for the better to call things off,” Robert cringed at the words. But he was right, it had been a mutual decision. “You can’t put all the blame on me… if I had known how difficult this would be I would’ve never done it.” You could tell he was getting worked up over this, but you could not blame him for that. You weren’t doing any better really. “I would’ve moved to this damn city for you!”
“Don’t say that.” There it was again. “Robert, you would have hated it here. You would have been away from the lads, you would have had to commute between London and Dublin all the fucking time,” you tried to keep your voice as low as possible, which proved to be difficult the longer this went on. “That’s no way to live, baby. We would have been miserable.”
He was silent for a while, his hands still holding onto yours as if you were the anchor keeping him grounded but he wasn’t looking at you anymore. Now you squeezed his hands.
“Bobby there is no use in pretending you wouldn’t have been absolutely fucking miserable here,” You sniffled trying not to cry. “I would not have had time for you, and you would not have had time for me. We would have lived two separate times, believe me, we would have resented each other after a few months.”
“Still,” he tried to argue. “I’ve been pretty fucking miserable this year without you too.” He was finally looking at you again, his eyes slightly glassed over.
You didn’t know what to say to that and before you could think of something, the intercom turned on again.
“Good evening, my name is Richard Jones, I’ll be your Captain tonight and I am happy to report that we’ve finally got cleared to take off.” Finally. “We will be making our way onto the tarmac in about ten minutes. Since we are obviously not the only plane waiting to take off, we will have to wait for a little bit longer, but we should be in the air in the next thirty minutes or so. We, again, apologise for the delay, if you have any more questions our cabin crew will be happy to answer them. We thank you for your patience!”
You felt like a weight was finally being taken off your shoulders. A weight you had carried around with yourself for almost a year now.
You got your phone out again, sending another text to your Mum telling her that you were finally about to take off and actually get home for Christmas. And then… then you took a deep breath turning your attention back to Robert.
Okay, here goes nothing.
“Well since we are sharing,” you smiled at him, still holding his hands. “I’ve missed you too. A lot!”
Before he could answer you, you got interrupted once again.
“Is there anything I can get either of you?” The brunette flight attendant from earlier smiled at you. “Any drinks? Food?”
“Yeah actually,” you turned your attention from Rob to the brunette woman. “Could we get two red wines and a pack of salt crisps? Thank you so much!”
You took the two wines and crisps, setting one of the wines down in front of Robert.
“I think we have a lot to talk about,” You grinned at him, who would have thought this day would end like this? You certainly didn’t. “Cheers!”
The both of you talked a lot. About everything that had happened since your breakup, about how much you missed each other, about your job and the band.
You told him how proud you were of him and the lads, that even though it had hurt to see them everywhere, your happiness for their success outweighed the heartbreak of – at the time – knowing that you would probably never get to tell them that in the way you had done for years before. That you missed your friends in Dublin but that your new job and friends in London were great. How much you had fallen in love with this city. And how much you hated not at least trying to stay in contact with Eli or Josh.
In turn, he told you about how much he loved touring, how he and the lads had grown even closer, how crazy eventful this year had been and how glad he was that they were taking a little break. Taking things slow but already working on album number three.
You talked about your confessions from earlier. That you both were obviously miserable without each other, that you still loved each other greatly and what it meant for you going forward.
With your head on his shoulder, you talked for the whole flight, in hushed whispers, laughing every now and again.
And if the confessions had taken a heavy weight off your shoulder earlier, this – the hushed talking, the little giggles, and the handholding – made you feel weightless. Made you feel like you were on top of the world again. All because the man you loved was still in love with you.
You were holding hands when you finally walked out of the airplane at 22:25. Finally back home in Dublin you thought. And you continued to do so when you waited to pick up your baggage, which of course took another fifteen minutes but at this point, what were those extra fifteen minutes? If anything, it was more time with Robert which you gladly accepted.
“Is anyone here to pick you up?” You looked up at Rob, while you were still waiting for your broken suitcase, to arrive on the baggage conveyor belt.
“Sent a message to my Ma while we were getting ready to land,” He answered. “Is that your bag?” He asked pointing to the black suitcase, which was indeed yours. “She should be here by now and if not, I’ll just have to wait a few minutes,” he grabbed your suitcase, grabbing your hand again and interlocking your fingers. “Your Mum is picking you up, right?”
“Hmm,” you hummed as you walked through the automatic doors. “There she is actually.” Your pace got faster after you spotted her in between the dozens of other people who were waiting for their loved ones to finally arrive. “C’mon.”
You felt your fingers slip out of Robert's hand a few meters before you reached your mother, practically running into her open arms. Only once you were back in your mother’s arms did you realize how tired you actually were.
“Oh my god I’ve missed you so much,” you sighed. “I don’t think I have ever been this happy to be back home.
“Oh, it is so good to have you back, sweetheart!” Your mother replied kissing your cheek before spotting Rob who had given your little reunion some space. “Robert it's good to see you again darling.”
She pulled him into her arms, just like she had done with you earlier but not before side-eying you. This was going to be fun to explain later.
“Okay let’s get you home,” your mother sighed, grabbing your suitcase. “Is there anyone to pick you up, Robert?”
“Yeah, my Mums on her way,” he smiled down at her. “I’ll wait outside for her; don’t worry she'll be here in a few minutes.”
The three of you walked through the airport, towards the car park, your mother in the front with your suitcase, Robert, and you behind her with the rest of your baggage.
“I’ll get the car,” Your mother said when you stepped outside, the cool air blowing through your hair. “You wait here I'll be back in a few minutes.”
Before you could answer her, she was already gone, leaving you and Robert alone. Smart woman, you thought to yourself.
You turned your attention back to Robert, smiling brightly, before resting your head against his chest. You stood in silence, the chilly wind still blowing through your hair. You did not feel the need to say something. Everything you needed to get off your chest you had talked about with Robert. You would rather just stay where you were right now, in his arms and pressed against his chest just like you had done a hundred times before.
“I’ll see you in January,” he smiled, carefully grabbing your face, and pulling it from his chest to look at you. “Right?”
“Yeah,” you hummed, hearing the honking of a car, and turning around to see your mother waiting for you. “I’ll keep my bed warm for you!” You chuckled, leaning into his touch. “I promise.”
“I’ll know you will love,” Robert grinned, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” another kiss. This time his lips landed on your right temple, right next to your eye. “I love you!”
The last kiss he pressed to the tip of your nose. Just like he had done on your first date, years ago.
“I love you.” You replied, kissing the skin right below his chin, before nuzzling your nose into his neck. It was crazy how fast you fell into old patterns.
Your mother honked again, which you took as your sign to let go of Robert and get into the car. Before leaving his warm embrace, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, his skin still feeling warm beneath your lips.
You walked to the car, put your backpack on the backseat and before she could even ask you answered the question you knew she was dying to ask you.
“It’s a long story.”
note: if you liked this imagine, don’t forget to like, comment and/or reblog, that’d be greatly appreciated! xx
taglist: (if you’d like to be tagged please let me know!) @tractorbeamofwoe @1twontalwaysbelikethiss @vanmccannsfridge
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charlottesbookclub · 1 year
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Nightmares (Armitage Hux x Reader)
Summary: Armitage has a nightmare but you’re there to comfort him.
Warnings/Tags: memories of child abuse, hurt/comfort, some angst but really mostly fluff, gn!reader (let me know if I missed anything!)
Words: 1,057
Author’s Note: so, uh, this is my first fanfic ever! I’m super happy to take constructive criticism but please be nice -- I’m sensitive 😅 This is just entirely self-indulgent because I’ve had this scenario in my head for months and I just finally had to get it out. I hope you enjoy it!
          Armitage was shaking. His mind had gone blank, no thoughts except trying to block his father’s next blow. It was useless of course. Brendol was so much bigger and stronger, and running now would only make the punishment even worse later. Armitage squeezed his eyes shut, trying to numb himself to the feeling of Brendol’s hands against his face again and again. His fists were so large and meaty and unbelievably hot. Or maybe that was just Armitage’s pale skin, reacting to both the violence inflicted upon it and the tide of anger and fear that was rising steadily inside him, flushing his extremities as adrenaline coursed through his blood.
           But then the steady pummeling began to fade, the feeling of his father’s fists growing fainter. Now there were new hands. Smaller hands. Cooler hands. And there was a voice.
           “Armitage!” the voice was so sweet, quavering with worry. The gentle hands pressed against his overheated cheeks, the grounding reality of the skin-to-skin contact slowly pulling him from the hell to which his unconscious mind had decided to deliver him.
           He blinked his eyes open slowly, adjusting to the soft darkness in the room. His vision was almost… watery. Had he been crying? As his eyes focused, they found your face in front of his, eyes wide with worry, your hands still pressed to his face.
           “Armitage…” you said again, more quietly this time, realizing your attempt to free him from his own mind had worked. You moved your hands, carefully brushing lingering tears away from the faint freckles that dotted his face. He had been crying.
           His mind gained clarity more slowly than his vision, portions of his thoughts still caught in the shadowy tendrils of the dream. He closed his eyes again, focusing of the feeling of your soft palms pressed against his skin. Reaching up, he cupped your hands in his, pulling them gently from his face and intertwining his fingers with yours. He took a deep breath, just like you had taught him, and opened his eyes again.
           The parts of his brain that had not yet broken free from the terror of the dream tried to convince him that you too were merely a figment of his dreaming mind, an imaginary balm sent to comfort him momentarily only to leave him all the more devastated when he finally woke up alone. But you were still there, looking at him with the same concerned expression. That’s when he noticed that there were thin, sparkling tear tracks on your own cheeks, faintly illuminated by the starlight that crept into the room.
           He lifted one of his hands from where it lay folded with yours to echo your earlier gesture. He cupped your cheek carefully, brushing the tears from your face. Your gaze relaxed a little then, and it was your turn to close your eyes, leaning into his touch.
           “Was it your father again?” you asked quietly after a moment, your gaze focused on his face again, searching his expression for the answer, even though you already knew it. Armitage nodded slowly, not yet sure he could trust his voice not to break. He swallowed, trying to steady himself. No one else ever saw him like this. On the bridge, he was composed and authoritative. With his engineers, he was organized and knowledgeable. With his officers, he was professional and controlled. But here, in his chambers, he was a frightened child again, helpless against his father’s rage. He was crying and shaking, unsteady and unraveled. But you folded him in the warmth that seemed to flow from you as easily as light from a star. You wrapped him up in your compassion, your understanding. Your love. a comfort he thought he would never feel, that he thought he would never deserve to feel. Yet here you were all the same. Holding him in the dark and pulling all his broken pieces back together again. He had to tell you.
           “It was my father, and…” Armitage had never been good at expressing affection, or even fondness. The example of his father and the strict professionalism of the Order had stripped him of his vulnerability long ago. But he could feel it beginning to bloom again, encouraged by the sunlight in your smile and tended by your gentle hands. So he tried again: “but the worst part was…” He faltered again, feeling his voice break. You didn’t rush him, just continued to hold his hands in yours, absently running your fingers in circles against his skin.
           “The worst part was that for a moment I thought you were just a dream as well.” It all spilled out in a rush, pouring from his mouth before he could choke on the delicate, vulnerable words. Your fingers stilled as you processed his hurried confession. When the full meaning of his words finally hit you, he barely had time to react.
           You launched yourself against him, wrapping your arms around him, completely enveloping him in your comforting scent and warm presence.
           “I’m here,” you whisper in his ear, the quiver in your voice suggesting that you might be crying again. “I promise. I’m here.”
           Armitage buried his face in your neck, letting his tears fall against your skin as he pulled you into him, wanting you to be as close as possible. This time though, the tears weren’t from anger or fear, but from a feeling that was so much lighter, so much more… lovely than anything he’d felt before. He didn’t have a name for it yet, but he knew he only felt it when he was with you.
           He wasn’t sure how long the two of you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other’s arms, just breathing. Eventually he laid back down against the mattress, bringing you with him and holding you firmly against his chest. You were real. You were real. You were real. The weight and warmth of your body against his helped him assure himself it was true. You curled into him, sighing contently as he ran a hand through your hair. After a few moments, he felt your breathing deepen as you fell back into the waiting embrace of sleep. He followed soon after, no longer haunted by memories of his past, but dreaming only of you and of your future together.
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iamanartichoke · 4 months
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I've been in a Sims 4 spiral for a few days (which happens every few years) and I spent like 12 hours designing Thor and Loki's dorm room from Set the Fractured Bone. The entire time I was doing it, though, this little voice in the back of my head was telling me how I'm wasting my time, this is stupid, people don't care about this, why am I not being productive, etc.
Then today I got a comment on the story from a reader, asking if I planned to finish the story. And it was like a fun little mood booster and a reminder that if I still have a story to tell (which I do), and aspects about it to share, then it's not a waste of time. And, I don't know, I just found it weirdly validating, so the moral of the story is, leave comments on stories even if they haven't been updated in years. (Nice comments, not entitled ones.) Chances are your comments make a difference to the author.
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thoughtkick · 2 months
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Take a shower, wash off the day. Drink a glass of water. Make the room dark. Lie down and close your eyes. Notice the silence. Notice your heart. Still beating. Still fighting. You made it, after all. You made it, another day. And you can make it one more. You're doing just fine.
Charlotte Eriksson
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thebookquotes · 4 months
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I'm not everything I want to be, but l'm more than I was, and l'm still learning.
Charlotte Eriksson, Everything Changed When I Forgave Myself
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thehopefulquotes · 6 months
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I'm not everything I want to be, but l'm more than I was, and l'm still learning.
Charlotte Eriksson, Everything Changed When I Forgave Myself
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perfectquote · 2 months
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Take a shower, wash off the day. Drink a glass of water. Make the room dark. Lie down and close your eyes. Notice the silence. Notice your heart. Still beating. Still fighting. You made it, after all. You made it, another day. And you can make it one more. You're doing just fine.
Charlotte Eriksson
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short-wooloo · 2 months
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Vox: ALASTORYOUPIECEOFSHITIFUCKINGHATEYOUNOTICEMEGODDAMIT!!!
Alastor: not now Vox, Lucifer dissed me so now I've got to go be a better father to his daughter
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sleepyconfusedpotato · 6 months
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🌹💀 That Time Ghost Almost Risked His Career 💀🌹
On the way to their date, Jade got mugged by three people. They obviously chose the really wrong target. When Ghost got the text message from her, he ran to the hospital to find her.
Masked Version (alternative storyline where he forgot to open the mask maybe? He caught a lot of people's eyes.) 👇
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Love me some Protective!Ghost (❁´◡`❁) (and yes that's also his worried face).
I miss drawing Ghost's unmasked face, so I kinda want to draw an expression, and it just pops out of my mind! (Might make a fic out of this 👀 who knows).
Hope you love this sketch! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧
Support me on Ko-Fi!
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hacash · 1 month
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the literally only amendment I'd make to pride and prejudice is a flashforward where charlotte collins née lucas is tragically widowed in her late thirties/early forties and uses the financial independence of her widowhood to move to london, buy a nice house, go to parties, take some dashing naval officer ten years her junior as a second husband and pretty much have the life she never was able to have when she was young.
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stay-close · 9 months
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Take a shower, wash off the day. Drink a glass of water. Make the room dark. Lie down and close your eyes. Notice the silence. Notice your heart. Still beating. Still fighting. You made it, after all. You made it, another day. And you can make it one more. You're doing just fine.
Charlotte Eriksson
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doomed-syko · 4 months
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Hey do you think you’ll do any rob imagines soon love them all x
yes i’m writing a lil christmas fic rn and the only reason i’m answering this is because i need to put some pressure on myself to finish it in time lmfao
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charlottesbookclub · 19 days
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like real people do (alistair x reader) 💜💜
Summary: honestly there's no real plot, just pure fluff. Alistair tries to adjust to having a human mate, and he's trying really hard 🥹
Warnings/Tags: gn!reader, mention of skipping a meal (not intentionally), mentions of eating, Alistair being awkward and a bit rude lol, basically just pure tooth-rotting fluff, but as always, let me know if I've missed anything!
Words: 1,634
Author’s Note: me, writing a twilight fanfic in the year of our lord 2024? it's more likely than you think. uhhh yeah I have no real explanation for this except that I have stumbled back into my Alistair obsession and I just wanted to write a cute little something for him. I don't think this is my best work, but at least it made me smile, so that's something. honestly I have no idea if there's anyone else out here reading fanfic for an incredibly minor twilight character, but if there is, I hope you enjoy whatever this is! I was thinking of making this a little series of Alistair trying his damndest to figure out human stuff, so do let me know if you have any interest in that. but okay I'll stop rambling now - enjoy! 💖
            A message pinged through on your computer, and you looked away from your work for a moment, pulling up the chatbox. It was Lucy from the front desk: 
hey – someone’s here to see you
who?
hard to describe – and i’m having a hard time getting his name
You chuckled softly to yourself, having a sneaking suspicion you knew exactly who it was. Odd that he would willingly put himself in a situation that forced him to speak with other people though. Your laughter turned into a small frown as you considered the fact that something might be wrong. You and Alistair hadn’t been together long, but you knew about his aversion to others well enough to wonder what could bring him into proximity of the possibility of needing to engage in small talk.
be right there
You pushed back from your desk and hurried down to the lobby. Lucy was obviously waiting for you to arrive, and she met you with a mildly panicked look, gesturing with her head toward the tall man standing awkwardly in the corner of the lobby. Thanks to his heightened senses, he had noticed your arrival long before Lucy, and was already striding across the floor toward you at a pace that was just barely slow enough to be considered human. You made a mental note to ask Carlisle to gently review normal human behaviors with him. You just managed to give Lucy a quick thumbs-up to indicate that you knew the tousled man before he bustled the two of you back toward your office.
“Alistair, what the hell?” you asked as he ushered you inside and closed the door behind him.
“What a truly awful system,” he muttered to himself, clearly continuing a rant he was already halfway through rather than answering your question. “I mean really, how many idiots should I have to go through to see my partner?” You just crossed your arms and leaned back against the edge of your desk, a bemused smile starting to fight its way onto your face. You knew it was no use interrupting him until he had gotten everything out. “’Would you like something do drink?’” He parroted Lucy’s question mockingly. “No I bloody well would not – unless you’ve got a few bags of blood stored away back there,” he retorted to this fictional Lucy sarcastically. “Zounds, how hard is it to just point me in the right direction and leave me in peace?” His words faded into muttering and soft curses in a version of English that hadn’t been spoken for hundreds of years.
“Alistair,” you said quietly, breaking him out of his monologue. His talking to himself had seemed strange at first, but the more you learned about his life before meeting you, the more it made sense. He had been his only company for so long and was only now slowly adjusting to speaking with other people again. You, however, found it incredibly endearing and hoped he didn’t break himself of the habit completely. 
His focus snapped to you instantly when he heard your voice, and he started murmuring apologies that you quickly brushed off.
“Alistair, it’s fine,” you assured him, sending him a warm smile and softly placing your hand on his forearm. Touch was another thing that was coming back to him only slowly. You had learned to proceed cautiously, gently, making sure he knew that you were about to touch him before making contact. The words stilled on his lips as his eyes focused in on the place where your warm palm met his cold skin.
“Alistair,” you said quietly after a moment of letting him adjust to the contact. His eyes traveled back up to your face at the sound of his name on your lips. “Is something wrong?”
“I—no,” the words tumbled out awkwardly, and you could almost see him trying to say three different sentences at the same time. If he still had blood under his skin, you were certain he would be blushing. Knowing that eye contact made conversation even more difficult for him, you flicked your eyes down toward your hand still on his arm, gently pulling it from where it hung limply at his side. You cradled his large hand in both of yours and began tracing mindless patterns on his skin, hoping this would give him enough of a reprieve to gather his thoughts. He took a deep breath and tried again. 
“Nothing is seriously wrong, but I— well I… worried about you.” This instantly caught your attention, and you looked up again almost without thinking, only to find his ruby eyes gazing back down at you with a softness you were just beginning to recognize.
“Alistair, I promise, I’m just fine,” you assure him.
“But… well… I noticed you didn’t eat breakfast this morning.” You tilted your head, wondering why that was such a cause for concern that he would willingly subject himself to the horror of checking in at your work.
“I was just running a little late and didn’t have time to make myself anything,” you explained, hoping that would ease his mind, “there’s always snacks in the break room, so I figured I’d have something when I got here.”
“I understand, but humans in your age group are supposed to eat three balanced meals per day, with the addition of one to three snacks. Lack of nutrients can result in many deficiencies, which in turn can lead to side effects like headache, dizziness, and trouble concentrating.”
You couldn’t stop the smile that was growing on your face as you listened to him recite this knowledge as though he had memorized it straight from a Wikipedia article. However, you seriously doubted Alistair’s ability to navigate the internet, since Carlisle had only recently convinced him to try using a flip phone.
“Where did you hear about this?” you asked, trying to remain serious and stifling the giggles that were rising in your throat.
“I’ve been reading Carlisle’s medical texts,” he responded with a furrowed brow, “I want to make sure I understand all the risks and ensure that I am prepared for every eventuality.”
If you hadn’t been completely in love with him yet, this would have undoubtably sealed the deal. He may be awkward and eccentric and even difficult at times, but he was trying so so hard to care for you in the best way he knew how. Although the whole situation was still incredibly amusing, you simply couldn’t bring yourself to laugh at him, even if it was all in affection. Instead, you raised yourself slowly to your tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.
“Thank you for thinking of me,” you said as you lowered yourself back onto your heels. Your chaste kiss seemed to have frozen him for a moment, as he stood there completely still, his soft squeeze of your hand the only indicator that he was still present in the room. You let him recalibrate, and as he came back himself, he made a soft exclamation as though he had just remembered something. Reluctantly releasing your hand, he swung a small backpack off his shoulder. 
“I brought you some breakfast,” he explained as he pulled a jumble of containers out of the bag and placed them on your desk, “I tried to make sure I balanced all the proper nutrients to ensure you wouldn’t suffer any adverse effects from not having eaten this morning.”
You busied yourself with looking at all the containers of food to hide the tears that were welling in your eyes. You had never had someone care for you so completely like this before. Unfortunately, your plan didn’t work, since the awkwardly yet earnestly prepared food only brought more tears to your eyes. You had never expected that strangely cut fruit, mangled pancakes, and soggy cereal sitting in its own milk would make you cry with joy, but the amount of thought and care that had clearly gone into each piece of the meal was about to reduce you to ugly sobs.
You could feel Alistair watching you intently as you opened each of the containers, seemingly trying to gauge your response. When he couldn’t bear it any longer, he finally broke the silence. 
“If you don’t like it, I—I’m happy to go out and buy you something. I haven’t had human food in so long and even—even then I didn’t actually prepare it so I tried reading some of Carlisle’s recipe books but I think I still didn’t get it right—” 
“Alistair,” you didn’t normally like to cut him off, but you refused to let his anxious rambling sew any seeds of doubt in his mind. “It’s absolutely perfect – I can’t wait to taste it all!”
Alistair beamed at you then, a rare sight, but a welcome one.
“I just have one question though,” you said, and he looked at you quizzically, waiting for your inquiry. “Can I give you a hug?”
Confusion turned to elation on his face, and he spread his arms in assent and anticipation. You threw yourself on him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you wiped away a few escaped tears. His arms closed around your back hesitantly, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them, but his uncertainty seemed to fade as you melted into his grasp, and he wrapped you even more tightly in his embrace. 
Both of you were smiling when you finally pulled away. You settled into your desk chair and motioned to Alistair to pull up another. He sat just close enough that your knees could touch as you surveyed the feast before you. 
“What do you think I should start with?” you asked him.
“Maybe the pancakes? I’m rather proud of those.”
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iamanartichoke · 2 months
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Anyone have any short prompts or idea nuggets for a short story with a creepy, spooky theme (ghosts, specifically)?
Asking for a friend.
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thoughtkick · 9 months
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I have lost and loved and won and cried myself to the person I am today.
Charlotte Eriksson, Empty Roads & Broken Bottles
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north-noire · 3 months
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What are you going to eat for dinner, dad?
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Drew this prompt between Henry and Charlie, with a bonus drabble! Think of it as a writing exercise for the AU itself (plus, I just found the prompt really lovely). I'm also trying to experiment with my art a little more!
Anyway, the full pentadrabble/writing I made for this prompt is under the cut!
--- Henry could hear Charlie talking behind him, her voice sounding curious. "What are you going to eat for dinner, dad?"
"Since winter is coming up again actually, I made your favorite soup." Henry replied warmly. He softly smiled as he stirred the ladle within the pot of soup he was cooking. He chuckled at the thought of her enjoying her favorite stew once again. It was the familiar feeling of fuzziness that came with nostalgia. He could still vaguely remember the times where Charlie came home from school feeling exhausted and drained from dealing with the day, only for her to perk up when she recognized the dinner Henry set on the table.
It felt warm and tender, like the soup he was making for her.
It didn't take long until Henry finally took a light taste of the soup he was making. He made sure it tasted just like how it used to be. He could still taste the familiar warm saltiness of the soup, and that was enough for him. He was sure that Charlie would like it too.
As he turned off the stove, he was already grabbing two plates near him to put them at the dinner table. "Well, dinner's ready."
Charlie chuckled in reply, but there was clearly a hint of sadness in her voice. "I really wish I could eat with you too, dad."
"W-what are you talking about, it's your fav--"
Then the realization hit Henry.
The reminder that she was just a soul confined within the Marionette felt so sudden, when Henry could've sworn that he was talking to Charlie - back to the person he used to know. Henry hated that he could still imagine Charlie herself just from her voice.
Charlie sounded distraught as she spoke to Henry again, almost ashamed with what she had said. "S-sorry, I appreciate that you made this all for me and everything, it's just that--"
"It's alright, Charlie, you shouldn't apologize," Henry assured her, trying to avoid showing any devastation in his tone. It hurt him to get reminded that she wasn't a person anymore, but at most, he appreciated the gentle reminder from her, even if it hurt to fully accept it all deep down.
As much as he'd rather see his own daughter's form rather than the Marionette itself, the last thing he wanted was for Charlie to feel bad for what had happened to her.
At the end of the day, she was still his daughter, and he loved her all the same.
As he put back one of the plates he was holding back in the cupboard, he hastily sat down on the table beside his daughter. He looked at Charlie and put a hand on her shoulder.
Henry tried to smile at her. "How about we go do something after this? Something we can do together."
Charlie's expression softened. "…yes. I'd love that."
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