#i've had the first few words sitting in my doc for forever

[bigassmoonchild]

The Hearing

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

The first four parts give context, but may not be required for this read.

Summary: Being stuck in hearing sucked. Especially when Price revealed things about yourself you hadn't even known, and now Ghost was unsure of the choices he'd been making.

Content Tags: Separation, Mentions of Violence, Mild Storybuilding, Scenting, Mentions of Possible Pregnancy, Ghost Walking Out, Ghost being Unsure, No Use of Y/N, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost

A/N: This took me half of The Wolverine, 16 minutes of Hamilton and 12 episodes of Bluey to get through. No sex yet, but if y'all don't want the pregnancy ark do let me know. This series may be coming to an end soon, but that doesn't mean Doc is going away forever. As always, content under the cut and requests are open <3

P.S: I was going to adjust part of this, but I've figured out a way to extend this story a little further, so I'm removing it from being privately posted. My apologies!

Part 1 | Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

This keeps fucking happening. It took four months before you and Ghost got in trouble again. Instead of having each other, now you were stuck without the other. The rest of the 141 was busy smuggling items between yourself and Ghost, it finally having gotten out that the two of you were mated.

That you were an Omega.

You were removed from training your squad for the time being, currently being investigating for the incident that had happened. Too many times you had seen the same people for hearings. Too many times you were stuck sitting in the same room and looking among the same people.

"Can you explain to us how no one knew that Michael wasn't taking his suppressants?" Was the question posed to you.

You adjusted in your seat, smoothing down the pair of nice pants you'd thrown on and smelling the thick perfume you'd put on to block the distressed scent you'd been throwing off. "No one in the compound is capable of scenting other people, those abilities are blocked with the military grade suppressants we are given. Scents are also dulled with the suppressants, so no one would've been able to tell," you explained. Short and simple, not nearly as scientific as it should've been.

"And you couldn't tell? Being mated means off of suppressants, which means you should've been able to scent him."

"It takes a minimum of two days off suppressants for a scent to begin coming back and another week before the androstenone in an Alphas body to increase dangerously high. I was on leave for three weeks prior to the incident, so I had to have returned back to base at nearly the two week mark," you wanted to see Simon.

You each had a babysitter, swapping out in shifts so neither of you were unattended for more than five minutes. You'd began self-soothing, rubbing the gland on your wrist aggressively against your neck gland, the clothes you were receiving weekly from Price wasn't doing enough.

No matter what, you were still stuck in this god damn hearing. Until you could smell Simon. You spun in your seat, searching the general room for him, watching as he was led forward, taking a seat across the aisle from you.

"Now, Mr. Riley, what caused you to attack Michael?" You were still watching him, only his balaclava to protect his face from those around you. You could just barely see his side-profile, his hardly blinking eyes as he stared down the person questioning him.

He glanced briefly at you. "My Omega was being attacked, I could smell her distress from a few halls down so I was going to find out what was happening. I heard him screaming at her and threatening her life, so I did what I had to to protect her," he answered, no hesitation. They hummed and nodded, glancing at you before looking back to Simon.

God, he smelled so much better than his clothes.

"Doctor, please try and pay attention," you looked down into your lap, giving a small sorry before the hearing proceeded. "What caused Michael to attack you?" At this you had to pause. It all happened so fast and you'd shoved the memory to the back of your head.

"He wanted to get out of the squad, he didn't want a Doctor ordering him around. I assume Mr. Riley said something to him, as he was causing problems with the soldiers covering my squad while I was on leave. He tried to press for information regarding my relationship with the Lieutenant, but I wasn't going to allow him insight he didn't need to know," they were writing everything down, clacking of keyboards and scraping of pens and pencils against paper.

"Do tell us what happened next,"

Looking away, you had to take a deep breath. You could feel the panic setting back in. "I told him that he wouldn't be able to remain in the military or find a new branch if he left. He had too many infractions and I pulled his file to show him, and he lunged for it. Michael was trying to take his file from me, and he could smell I was an Omega. That's when I realized he was going feral," you picked at your fingers, not looking at the group of people as you tried to remember what happened.

They glanced back at their notes, speaking with each other for a moment. "How would you know he was going feral?"

"I have medical documents of my squad. I know when their last heat or rut was, and I decide when they go on leave to ensure they aren't on suppressants for too long that it becomes dangerous, such as what occurred between myself and my Alpha. The androstenone inside an Alpha increases, albeit being dormant, the longer suppressants are taken without a natural rut occurring," you explained. This was the easy part, the things you knew exactly the ins and outs of.

They nodded along with you, fingers still clacking on keyboards as you explained.

"Once someone stops taking suppressants, the androstenone becomes active again. The longer they go without the rut, the more that become active. If they don't rid themselves of the androstenone, it'll force them into ferality to keep the increasing hormones from severely hurting them," they interrupted you for a moment.

"What does ferality do for the Alpha?"

"It ensures that they mate with the nearest Omega in or out of heat to naturally expel the androstenone. If they don't, their rut gets worse and they begin to have different areas of the brain shut down until they are no more than an animal, looking for the next thing to breed," you explained. "Most cases are euthanized, to ensure they don't suffer for long," you added, ensuring they would understand why it was so dangerous.

You had zoned out once they began talking with Simon again. His scent was washing over you every now and again as the AC unit blew cooler air into the room. This room had no windows and was in the middle of the building so they installed AC's for the stifling summer, which meant scents were wafting around with each other and mixing.

But Simons? It was amazing, being able to get it damn near straight from the source. You were waiting for all of this to be over so you could crawl into your nest with Simon. Your heat had been due a week ago, but with the proceedings dragging on you had been far to stressed for your body to allow it to happen.

And you could feel it building within you. You were exhausted all the time, eating more and building a larger nest, moving things in your room around. Now that you had your Alpha near you, you could feel your mind slowly slipping away from you.

You had to think harder, trying to remember how long ago your heat was and when you had to expect it. To be honest, you didn't really want to think that hard right now. You were still exhausted, you didn't get much sleep, considering you'd been without your Alpha for weeks now.

"That should wrap today up, we'll reconvene tomorrow. Same time and location, we'll review what we have learned from you two and Michael and give you our final decision in one week. For now, you two will stay separated and we'll have people watching to ensure you don't meet up," you wanted to argue. So badly, you wanted to tell them that he was your Alpha and he was supposed to be with you.

Even then, you knew that they wouldn't rescind their decision. You watched as Simon was led out, giving you one more look before leaving.

"Listen, kid, I'm really sorry," Price leaned in next to you, whispering as you waited for Simon to get far enough away that you could leave as well without possibly getting in trouble. "I know another week is going to be hard on you," he looked away.

You sighed, leaning back. "It's no harder than the first few weeks mated to him. The only problem is my heat isn't coming and I'm past due," he gave you a weird look before nodding with you.

Standing up, he gestured for you to follow him. You stood and followed him out, allowing him to lead you back to your room. It stayed quiet between the two of you, you figured he was deep in thought and you were just thinking about the nap you were gonna take in your nest.

Quite the exciting life you held now, being stuck back in hearings. You could only do paperwork and most of the work for the week you'd finish right away. It was so boring, the task force only being able to come by every now and again.

When you walked in, he handed you a bag. You looked down and back up at him, brows furrowed. Price gave you a smile and walked back out, the door shutting behind him. You sat on your bed, running your hands down your face and sighing deeply.

You reached into the bag, pulling out another of Simons hoodies. The amount you had at this point made you wonder if he had any left, just about the entirety of your nest was made out of his shirts and hoodies. The scents on some of them were fading, but you didn't remove them just yet.

Without him to be in the nest with you, the scents were fading quicker and quicker. You hated it. You had grown accustomed to having him scenting you at night and before he had to leave in the morning, him remarking your gland every now and again when you were able to.

Moving to throw the bag in the bag of bags, you felt something move inside it with your movements. Setting it back down, you opened it to look inside.

A pregnancy test.

"Price!" You shouted, his office door slamming open. You were heaving, having run straight to his office after finding his last little gift. "What the hell?"

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was talking to my own Omega and they mentioned giving you one. A lot of the symptoms you'd been mentioning had lined up with their own pregnancy. You don't have to use it, obviously, I just figured you'd want it," you stopped to think.

How had you been exhibiting all the signs of a pregnant Omega and yet you'd been unable to recognize it? You were a bloody biologist, so you'd already known exactly what the signs were. Intense nesting urges, increased eating, increased amounts of sleep.

Jesus, were you pregnant? Maybe you should take the test, just to be sure. Price opened his mouth to say something before shaking his head and going back to his paperwork. You were going to pester him about what he was going to say, but you didn't.

"You could get this hearing pushed off if you're pregnant. They'll consider it an Alpha protecting his pup. You didn't hear this from me,"

The next day Simon was back where he'd been sitting, in the back of the hearing room waiting for them to call him forward. He could see you, some rows ahead of him. Your scent had become more delectable to him over the last few weeks, even if he hadn't been able to smell you directly.

The rest of the task force was playing a dangerous game, smuggling items between the two of you. He knew that, if caught, they could be put on a probationary leave and investigated to figure out if it was more than just items.

Simon watched as you stood from your seat, hands folded in front of you. He could smell you better than when you'd been sitting, the scent sweetening to something he couldn't explain.

All he wanted to do was scent mark you and hold you in your nest, maybe find you some food and feed you. What the hell was up with him? He'd been stalking as close to your room as he could get, snarling at every Alpha who walked near.

"I haven't made you aware yet, but I have been in for a pregnancy test," everyone went silent and Simons eyes widened. "The results should be coming in another day or two, depending on who will be finalizing them. I'd like to request that the current predicament be pushed back so my mate and I can speak about possibilities," he watched as the group leading the hearing leaned together to speak and his eyes never left you.

He could smell your distress from where he was, and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Pregnant? He thought you'd been on birth control, even if it you'd still gone through your heats.

To be honest, Simon was terrified. A father? Him? All he could do was walk out, even if he heard his name come from you and your scent changing sharply. Winding through the halls, he found himself walking outside with a cigarette lit, the slight burn as he inhaled the smoke.

Neither of you had talked about this. You'd been mated for a few months, not even hitting a year yet and prior to that you'd only spoken professionally. He knew you, but you hadn't even shared a room yet.

Was he wrong? For biting you, when neither of you had agreed upon being mated. For getting the two of you in that situation in the first place, he should've been the one who had gone and swept the building to make sure everyone was safe.

Simon knew exactly where his life would be had the two of you not been stuck in that situation. He'd never imagined his life moving this way and it terrified him. He was almost... regretting the choices he'd made.

Regretting mating with you.

Next

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #small bit of angst #mentions of violence #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #modern warfare ii #no use of y/n #task force 141 #call of duty #simon riley #call of duty x reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #alpha/beta/omega verse #Maple Syrup #mentions of pregnancy

[writtenbyred]

Something Bad // A Matt Murdock x Reader fic // Slow burn

Note: Okay so I finally decided to post something I've had in my docs as a draft for forever, because why not. A slow burn matt murdock x reader romance with a whole lot of original storyline and plot building in this first chapter if you're willing to stick with it until you get the entrance of wonderful and rageful Matt.

Warnings: Reference to sexual violence/assault in this chapter.

Disclaimer: I have, since writing up lots for this story and planning it out and becoming attached to my character, seen other fics using an 'empath' OC, but I have become very attached to 'Ana' and I guess daredevil and all its angst lends itself well to an empath story so I'm sending this out into the ether anyways.

Go forth and read if you would like to <3 - Red

Chapter 1. Emotions.

Sat at a cold, metal table on a particularly uncomfortable chair, you looked intently at the person sitting opposite. There sat a young girl. In her file it said she was 21, but if you hadn’t seen that and had to hazard a guess, you’d have presumed her to be around 18. The way her eyes were cloudy with tears, her hands shaking slightly as she held them up to her chin, elbows lent on the cold metal, it all contributed to making her look younger - small, in that moment. 

“It’s okay, Emma” You spoke, edging your hands forward on the table in a subconscious show of support. “You can take your time, we’re in no rush”

Emma looked upwards, then. You watched as a single tear slipped from her eye, only briefly tumbling down her cheek before Emma reached to wipe it with her sleeve. 

“I’m sorry,” Emma stuttered a little over her words, her voice raspy from emotion. “I’m being silly, I just-”

As her words cut off mid sentence, you reached your hand forward quickly to place a comforting hand on Emma’s arm. The dark tumbling of vivid feelings - sadness, shame and fear, that you were already feeling inside your chest (or stomach, mind, just about everywhere? You weren’t 100% where the feelings of others ended up locating themselves within you) multiplied until she felt overwhelmed, having to shake her head with an exhale to push through them.

“Do not apologise. You are not being silly, and have nothing to feel sorry for. This is something incredibly difficult you’re doing, and I’m here to help you through it.” You grasped the girl's hand at that point, and in the way that you still did not fully understand, a wave of whatever calm you could find within yourself washed over you and towards Emma for a moment, and the girl let out a sigh as you watched some of that pain leave her. In that moment you felt good, happy that she could provide this sort of relief for somebody, even if only temporarily and not without an increase in your own anxieties.

“Thank you, I… I think I’m ready to talk now” And Emma’s words came at a perfect time, as a few moments later your head turned to the door, a soft knock floating through. 

“You can come in” You called out to the officer you knew was standing on the other side, and then the door opened. 

A police officer with a kind face stepped into the room, you had spoken with him earlier when you had first arrived - You were pretty sure he had said his name was Brett. He sent a small smile towards you both, and his empathy for the girl's situation shone through, even if you knew he would never be able to understand her emotions quite as well as you could.

“Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to see how you were getting on” He walked towards the table and you realised then he was holding a mug in his hand, placing it down in front of the girl, he then gestured towards it. “It’s tea.” Emma reached her hand out to grasp it and looked to give him a smile in thanks.

“Sorry Miss Johnson, I didn’t think to get you anything-” You cut off the officer - still unsure if it was definitely Brett he had said, definitely something with a B - before he could finish.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” You shifted her attention back to Emma as she released the hand you had half forgotten she was still holding in order to bring the mug to her lips. She seemed more relaxed now, the awful panic of hopelessness and shame creeping in having dissipated slightly.

“So, do you think we’re ready to make a full statement, or?” He trailed off slightly, looking from Emma to you. You looked to the girl, letting the silence continue for as long as necessary, giving the girl the opportunity to make her own decision. You knew her ability to say yes or no had already been taken from her at least once that day, and you weren’t about to do it again. 

“Yes, I’m ready to talk now” Emma seemed to sit up a little in her seat, lifting her head higher in her decision. 

“Okay, great. I’ll be taking it from you, if that’s okay? We can try to find a female officer if you’ll be more comfortable.” Brett added, pulling the lone chair from the corner of the room to the table in order to sit in between them.

“No, that's fine. But, could Ana stay, please?” Emma’s eyes shifted to yours, and the subtle plea held within them was noticeable, even if you couldn’t feel the emotion rolling off of her. 

“That’s okay with me, If Miss Johnson-”

“Of course” You spoke to the room, and then to Emma. “I’ll stay.” 

And so you did. 

You stayed and listened as Emma spoke of what happened early that morning, when she had been finishing a night shift at around 5am. What had happened when the sky was still dark and Hell’s Kitchen still shrouded in shadows as she made the short walk through back streets towards a bus route. As she had been grabbed, attacked by rough hands who pulled her into an alleyway. You felt fear, panic rising in bubbles from her stomach, to her chest, to her throat. And so you leant forward, taking the girl’s shaking hand in yours when she’d faltered over her retelling, stopping to catch her breath through tears, the emotions intensifying as she worked to calm them. A subtle nudge from your mind, some quiet ringing in your own ears, and you saw as Emma’s shoulders seemed to relax slightly, her rapid breaths slowing and stabilising, allowing her to continue on. You offered her a weak smile in encouragement.

There were many times in your life where you had hated the fact that you were capable of this. When things had become overwhelming when you were younger, when emotions would feel like they were strangling you in some situations.

You hated hospitals, always. The fear, the pain, the hopelessness from so many had twisted painful knots into your stomach, caused your chest to tighten and your eyes to burn, when your Mum was sick, you had avoided the hospital as much as possible, often unable to visit her. your own home, after your mum had died, now that was simply unbearable.

But in rare moments like this, You were grateful for your ability to take some of the girl’s pain away, even if you had to feel it in turn. 

Once the difficult conversation was done, Officer Brett Mahoney (you had read his name tag) had stopped the recording and explained to Emma what would happen next. Through this, though, and whilst they left the room and left Emma waiting for whoever she had contacted to come, You’s world was blurred. your body was exhausted, and a deep ache had built within you as you still felt all the painful emotions, now overwhelming your mind after such time. you had to stabilise yourself against the wall in the hallway for a moment whilst Officer Mahoney had gone to talk to an officer, closing your eyes to wait for the momentary dizziness to pass.

Hearing your name made you open your eyes, stand up straighter to face Officer Mahoney.

“Miss. Johnson, thank you for coming down.” His face was serious but the warmth shone through his eyes, as well as his feelings of appreciation, which washed over You like a hot shower, a momentary recess from the dark and cutting emotions you still had swirling within your. “Honestly, I don’t know how you do it, but you really managed to calm her down. She was a mess before, understandably. I don’t know if we would have gotten that statement until morning otherwise. Gives us a much better chance of finding the guy”.

“It’s no bother, I’m happy to do it” You sent a smile at him, your head slowly returning to functioning more capably. And as much as it did take a lot out of you, dealing with the overwhelming emotions of these difficult situations and the police station in general, you really were happy to do it.

“We’re getting a lot of similar cases at the minute” He shook his head at that and a grimace came on You’s face. you knew that, you’d had to do this for far more people lately. “It would be useful to have you there in future.”

A wave of nausea passed over you as another rush of panic and grief washed over you. You stole a glance back to the room you’d just been in, only a few feet away, and you realised you needed to get as far away from it as possible. So you reached your hand into the pocket of your jacket and quickly picked up your card, handing it to Brett with a forced smile.

“Call me here if you ever need someone again” You spoke before lifting your bag on your shoulder and turning to head towards the door, as quickly as you could without causing alarm. On the way out you felt a mixture of anger, grief, happiness, and then some more fear thrown in for good measure, all flowing out of the people sitting in the station.

Once you reached the large entrance doors, finally pushing outside into the cool air, you breathed in a deep sigh of relief. Your hands anxiously patted at your thighs, leaning your whole upper body forward as you shut your eyes, willing your brain to just calm. The emotions within you started to simmer down, as the outside air filled your lungs, it seemed as you exhaled a lot of the pain went with it, and you welcomed that calmer feeling, though some of the dizziness remained.

You hadn’t always been able to do this. As a kid you could remember people praising your empathy, a kind warm child who always wanted to make people feel better, so you supposed maybe it had always lived inside of you. Not that you really understood what ‘it’ was, but it was as you got a little older that it really started. As you started hitting teenage years, it was… overwhelming. 

As other kids started being aware of themselves; feeling emotions more deeply, feeling embarrassment, starting to explore romantic interests - You felt it all, except not only for yourself. You supposed one of the first times you realised what was happening to you wasn’t normal was in 8th grade. A girl had come into class after a couple days away, her eyes looked a little lifeless, dark circles and redness that indicated she had been crying, but none of the other 13 year olds seemed to notice this, but You did, because as she walked into the room a pit opened at the bottom of your stomach, seemingly making room for the dark horrific feeling of a sad pain mixed with guilt, fear, hopelessness and anger to enter, taking You’s breath away. As it turned out, the girl had lost her father. That was the first time you had known what grief felt like, and it certainly wasn’t the last.

You checked your phone for the time, seeing it was 5:45pm, you’d spent far more time in the police station than you had expected to, and it was time for you to call it a day. You mostly worked alone, the card you handed over simply stating your name, and a description of Emotional counselling/Advocate/Representative to try and encompass the range of things you did for people. In reality this was everything from working with somebody to calm their nerves before giving a large presentation to, what you did far more often, coaching people who were scared and traumatised giving statements and later testifying in court. You were also part of a company who provided advocates to those who were vulnerable in any legal proceedings or meetings with law enforcement, but often once you had worked with somebody, you handed them your personal card, as agencies tended to pay jack shit.

You had desperately wanted to find any way you could put this curse some would call a gift to use, to try and help people if you could. You had too much experience of not being able to help people, especially the ones you loved, which was still eagerly eating away at you. 

Near the station was a coffee shop you’d been to a few times before or after similar trips, and as much as caffeine may not help the banging headache that you had building, in that moment you really didn’t care. 

On your short walk to the shop, the fluttering of different feelings inside you that you’d grown used to continued. Somebody on the phone was clearly in love, a warmth spreading through you as you pushed past the woman smiling at whoever she was talking to. Another was stressed, walking with purpose and tension in his shoulders which had passed through to you for a moment. You shook your head, willing yourself to try to tune it out for the moment.

You reached the shop, and headed to join the queue of people also craving their caffeine fix. 

You browsed the menu as you took shuffling steps as the line kept moving up, your eyes falling on a sweet caramel filled coffee, your heart tugging towards it. When you stepped up to the counter, however, you ordered a large black coffee. You had a guilty pleasure of sickly sweet coffee, however your life wasn’t so much about what you wanted anymore. 

You took a large gulp of the bitter and hot liquid that scalded your throat slightly, but it was better than feeling the remnants of the acidic feeling of panic you’d felt there all afternoon.

Back at your one bedroomed, simple apartment You had chucked your coffee cup into the bin, your body now slightly electrified by the caffeine content, of which you were glad. You expected the night ahead of you may be a long one, and the more awake you were for it, the better.

Grabbing your laptop, you placed it on your rectangular coffee table, taking a seat on the somewhat battered hard leather couch. You then pulled the laptop onto your lap, pressing the power on button.

Once the light finally flickered on and the screen illuminated, you opened up a document you had, very cleverly you thought, entitled Mom’s recipes. Scrolling past the few simple recipes you’d stolen from the Food Network, you came to the page on which you were keeping the information you had gathered. You bit your lower lip as your eyes darted back and forth to scan the things you had previously written.

There was only just under a page of short sentences, but it was a better position than you had been in 6 months ago, so you would take it. 

“Daniel - Previous chef at Le Frère Juste restaurant had been known to have fallen into the criminal network of Hell’s Kitchen, believed to be due to a substance abuse problem Mr.-”

You stopped reading that particular sentence, which was a quote from a police report you had obtained a couple months back through means that some would possibly frown upon, including the police that it came from, which meant that perhaps it wasn’t entirely legal. What you had been more interested in was the name attached to said report. One Officer Jenkins, who you had spent time trying to track down for more information, but was so far unsuccessful.

You weren't empty handed, however. 

At the beginning was the hardest, not knowing where to look for information,how to recognise the snippets of clues that could lead to more. But once you had finally gotten one name, you’d tumbled into another, then another. you should’ve been more shocked to discover the dark, tangled web of criminal factions that underpinned Hell’s Kitchen, but having lived here since you were 6 years old, you’d already seen (and felt) much of the darkness that shrouded Hell’s Kitchen. 

The names you had gathered were few, but you were hopeful one of them could provide you with information you needed. So far you had only approached one of the men on your list, who had been unable to give you any information about Daniel or what he was involved with before he had died. You had half expected that however, having picked what you presumed to be the weakest first, to test whether you would be capable of approaching them, if you could use your ability in the right way to cause them to fear you enough to hand over information. Information you may not have gotten, but the sight of the guy running away at full speed once you’d lightened your effect on him certainly improved your confidence in the matter.

You had attended some form of fighting sport since you were a teen on and off, completing a couple years of boxing, some karate, kickboxing also. You’d figured out that punching, kicking, generally throwing yourself at things in some way was a great method for releasing some of the intense emotions pent up inside you that spilled out from everyone else into you. However, you were not technically a fighter of any kind, so 6 months ago when you’d decided this was something you would have to do, for Daniel, you’d started taking self defence lessons, and then deciding you wanted something a little more on the offensive, you’d started one-on-one kickboxing. Of course, you hoped to be successful enough at using your ability against people, but you weren't stupid, and knew you were getting yourself into something dangerous, and thought it best not to rely on simply scaring gang members into not killing you. 

Even with trembling hands, you thought, surely a gun shot would eventually be on target.

Tonight, however, you were hoping for a more successful night. you eyed the second name on your list, and the information you had gained on where this Alex Peters would be this evening by doing some, as some may say, light stalking of Alex a couple of nights earlier this week. you’d known his favourite bar hangout, and after frequenting there many times, you finally got lucky and spotted him at the start of the week, and now you knew he was going to be meeting with some others tonight in Hell’s Kitchen. 

Planning on getting him alone, and asking him what he knew about Daniel, you slipped into your darker, more athletic clothing hoping to blend into the shadows. Once you had what you needed, including a small pen knife and mace on your keys, the only physical offensive weapons you had, the last thing you did before you left was pull up your dark hood over your head.

The air in Hell’s Kitchen was cool as an inky darkness had fallen over the sky, illuminated only by the light pollution spilling out of New York City. You sat crouched on a fire escape, one you’d had to wrestle with a pull-down ladder in order to get up on to. It provided you the perfect vantage point to watch what was happening below. You held a small digital camera in your hand, nothing special since you weren't exactly rolling in cash, however it took better quality pictures than your phone did. you weren't exactly sure why you were collecting photos of the criminal rings you had been tipped off to, or what you may use them for, but it made you feel like you were doing something.

Down below, you were watching 5 men interact. One of these was the guy who’s name you’d been given, with a possible connection to Daniel: That was Alex Peters, a relatively short man with a shaved head and tattoos littering his large, muscular arms and seeping on to his neck. Typically exactly what you’d expect from some sort of intimidating muscle man for a gang. Great, You thought, you weren't exactly looking forward to trying to get information from him.

The others seemed to be a mix of associates of Alex and another group. They were discussing something in tones too hushed for you to be able to make out what they were saying, but considering the fact they were a bunch of criminals attached to everything from drugs to murder, you’d hazard a guess that it wasn’t anything good. 

They stood within a half decrepit building, either a warehouse or an old multstorey car park of which only metal bones remained, You weren't sure, but either way the damage, which was presumably a result of The Incident, made for a great hotspot for criminal activities, but also thankfully allowed you a great view from your vantage point.

Alex started to split from the rest of the pack, and your attention peaked, quickly placing away your camera into the small over shoulder bag you had, standing yourself up, a little, in preparation. 

He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, shouting back to the others whilst he walked in the opposite direction to where they were headed towards a car trunk.

He shouted something incomprehensible, and you started to move. your footsteps light and you shimmied yourself back down the ladder you’d used to climb up in the first place. you could hear your own heart beating loudly in your ears, your chest thudding as you tried to control your breath before approaching this man. For somebody with the ability to manipulate somebody else’s emotions, you sure could struggle with your own sometimes.

You pulled your hood over your head even further, more as a comfort action than anything else. Alex had rounded the corner of a half broken down wall, You watching the light from his cigarette as you circled round in the shadows, crouching hidden behind a large metal waste bin as you ran over and over in your head what was about to happen. You would approach as quickly as possible, the minute he turned the opposite direction and then… Well you hoped that some muscle memory from your far too few kickboxing lessons and the somewhat unpredictable emotional manipulation powers would come into clutch in the moment.

In the distance, there was the loud sound of the other men, clattering of metal as they looked through their trunk and laughed together, but you couldn’t hear that. The world around had slipped away, a dull pressure building in your ears that made everything around your seem slightly slower, it built further as Alex Peters pulled his old phone from his pocket, his attention now turned away from your direction, and the fullness in your ears seemed to suddenly pop, and then everything was moving fast again; too fast.

In a swift movement, you stood to your feet, and gliding steps took you suddenly right to where Alex stood. He started to turn towards you, a breath of an almost word leaving his mouth as he instinctively raised his arm to push you away, but you stepped back, and threw your knee up quickly, your full body weight behind you as you jutted it into his stomach, winding him. 

“What the F-” Alex’s breathless words came out quickly, but you couldn’t have him alerting the other men to your presence, because then you’d seriously be screwed, so you quickly reached your hand out to his shoulder, and let an intense jolt of fear out of yourself. 

The man before you went rigid, confusion seeming to pass his face before a look of terror enveloped it. You had felt scared more than enough times in your life, and still carried enough of that around to pull it from yourself and throw it into him. So that’s what you did.

A continuous pressure of terror sent between two minds, and soon it was easy enough for you to grip him harder, bringing your other hand to his opposite shoulder, shoving him back against the brick wall. 

“Alex Peters.” your voice came out more gruff than you’d ever normally hear yourself sound. It was laced with anger, and presumably adrenaline, but you had to keep it quiet. His stuck wide eyes darted back and forth between yours and the vice-like grip of your hands. He seemed to try to speak, but was unable to, so you continued. “I’m going to give you a name. And you are going to tell me what you know.”

He just looked at you, so you moved your hand to his throat, reaching deeper within yourself to channel more intense feelings into him. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead he gave a quick nod, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead.

“Daniel, Daniel Johnson. Do you kno-” you couldn’t finish your sentence as your adrenaline fueled trance was suddenly broken by the clashing sound you heard from just past the wall. you whipped your head towards the sound. Your concentration was broken, your mind losing its grip on the channelling emotions for just a moment. But it was long enough for Alex Peters to regain some of his composure, clearly finding his voice enough to shout out, and push you backwards, causing you to stumble over your own legs. 

Your eyes were back on him just in time to see his still shaking fist coming towards you, ringing in your ears a moment later as you were too late to fully avoid his hand connecting with the side of your temple. you doubled over for a moment, and suddenly the nerve endings in the front of your face exploded in pain, his knee having connected directly with your nose. you leant back against the metal you originally hid behind, the coolness aiding the heat burning through you. You mustered up the adrenaline to lift yourself up, going after him. 

However, as your fingers were just grasping his jacket to pull him backwards, your eyes focused ahead and saw that the other men were now approaching. your fuzzy mind had only enough time to pull into focus one word; Shit.

All of a sudden, with the distant sound of a soft thud, there was another figure standing before you. In the dim light, it seemed like just a shadow of a man. But all of a sudden, one of the men was on the floor, and the others were now focused on a new target. 

The new development didn’t keep your attention long though, with the others now running to throw punches at the shadow figure, you could turn back to Alex and throw your arms at him again. 

You grabbed his forearm, and let your mind kick into action in a way that was becoming more practised, more perfected. you threw your body weight at him, stumbling you both back against the brick wall, Alex’s back thudding roughly against it at which he let out a small cry. 

“Daniel Johnson, tell me.” Your voice was rushed, desperation sneaking through into your tone, your need for answers burning at your already gravelly throat. His eyes however were focused to his right, where over his shoulder, the other men he’d been with were either choosing to run or being beaten to the ground. His fabricated terror seemingly having found a new perpetrator in the shadow man. And he fought back against you, clearly desperate to join his fellow cowards in escape. You were pushed backwards once again, your smaller frame at your disadvantage, and for a moment your breath caught in your throat, the flash of dark metal catching your eye, the gun in Alex’s hand being lifted up towards you, but almost instantly, Alex disappeared from before you.

You could feel your shaky breaths coming back, faster than usual, the quickened beats of your heart in your ears at full volume again. The gun was gone from Alex’s hand when you looked back to him, and instead he was being hit swiftly around the head with it, knocking him sideways. you watched as the shadow of a man grabbed Alex by the neck, his other hand clasped into a fist, quickly connecting with the side of Alex’s temple. Once. Twice. A third hit, and Alex’s eyes had fallen closed, his body grew limp, and it fell to the floor as the man released his hold on his neck.

For a moment you just stood there, watching the back of the man clad all in black, your quick and shallow breaths seemingly mirroring his as his tight shoulders heaved up and down in steady rhythm. For a moment, he just stood there also. Still, unmoving. 

Slowly, he turned around to face you. You weren’t sure how you were meant to feel, having seen this man just take out 5 or more men in the space of a couple minutes, standing alone in an alleyway with him, but the large amount of adrenaline was clearly still coursing through your veins because you didn’t take much notice to how you should feel. 

What you did feel in that moment, though, was a deep seated rage. you hadn’t the functioning brain power in that moment to ponder whether that emotion was bubbling up inside of you or flooding out of the man before you. 

You watched him as he seemed to consider you for a moment, his head twitched to the side, and you tried to study him also, but the majority of his face was covered by black cloth. You took a momentary glance over his all black attire, the thin material splayed across his thick torso severely lacking in protection. Before he had the chance to say anything, the thick and red hot rage was clawing at her throat to be verbalised. 

“What the hell.” Your voice was gravelly, pitched low as you stood in some sort of standoff with this shadow of a man. You couldn’t see his facial expression, only the slight tick in his jaw as he slowly cocked his head in the other direction.

“Excuse me?” His voice was deep. It was rough and came from deep in his chest, which was still rising and falling in rapid respiration. You simply narrowed your eyes at him, reasonable thought and any sense of self preservation clearly out of the window with the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. 

“I said, what the hell, man” You lifted a hand to your hair, roughly pushing away the wisps of it that had fallen in front of your face. “I was just about to- well, whatever, but you jump in here and ruin it.” Your voice was somewhat hectic. 

With Alex Peters having run off, your chance of getting some more information about Daniel had gone with him, and at that moment, all of your negative feelings about that outcome were being filtered and thrown straight at the man before you. It seemed those feelings were mostly anger.

His lips seemed to press into an even more grim line, as he shook his head in a movement ever so slight, it may have been a subconscious reflex in his disagreement.

“If I hadn’t jumped in when I did then you’d most likely be dead right now.” He stated matter of factly, causing you to scoff.

“I can handle myself just fine, thank you.” Your hands rested upon your hips, trying to hide the way they still shook slightly from the man before you, an attempt to exude confidence, despite the way your heart rate was still racing. 

“I’m not sure I would call having a gun pointed to your head, handling yourself, exactly.” Although his lips remained in a line, his voice still grim, it gained the slightest lilt of teasing to it, and flames of annoyance built up in your chest, escaping in the way of a groan of exasperation. 

“I would have been perfectly fine, without you showing up and chasing away my- That guy.” Words flew from your mouth a little quicker than you could filter them, realising you probably shouldn’t be telling details of your plans to the stranger in front of you. 

“Sure you would.” His voice and the feelings that flew off of him held no ounce of truth. “You need to be more careful, what are you doing out here trying to talk to these guys?” His head cocked to the side once against, an almost questioning taunt to his positioning. 

His near chastising tone brought a laugh from your lips. 

“What’s it to you?” You narrowed your eyes at him, taking a small step back from him, looking him up and down from clothed face down to a tough black boot, and it clicked for you where you'd seen this shadow man before. You drew in a sharp breath. 

The Man in Black.

You’d seen the papers as you walked past the stands, you’d seen the news and heard local radio all talking about this Man in Black. A vigilante sort, who seemed to be travelling around Hell’s Kitchen and regularly beating the shit out of people.

“Well, I’m just trying to-” He started again, less gravel to his voice now he seemed to have calmed a bit, but you cut him off before he could impart his opinion on to you. 

“Stop it. I know who you are” He stilled for a moment, taking you in as you purposely rolled your shoulders back, standing a little taller before him, still feeling those sparks of rage flickering. “The Man in Black” You added emphasis to his given title with the lilt of sarcasm in your voice clear. 

“I don’t need to take advice from some vigilante, going around and spreading violence. You have no idea what I’m doing, who I am,” For some reason you hadn’t quite realised, a lot of vitriol was building into your voice as you addressed the man in black. Thinking of the many people you’d heard of him having fought. The people he’d hurt. How was he to know if the people he fought deserved it? What if it was somebody just caught up with the wrong people. Someone like Daniel. “You’ve screwed things up for me here tonight, I have a banging headache from being punched, and also knee-d actually, in the face, and now no information, so thank you very much, Man in Black, but I think this is where I’ll be bidding you goodnight. 

His lips parted slightly, which was just visible to you under the dim glow of distant street lights down the alley. It looked like he was about to speak, but before he could you heaved your bag further up your shoulder, a wince as you jolted your head with your movement, and spun on your heel. 

“You’re hurt…” His gruff voice trailed off, but you simply waved a hand in his direction, exhaustion suddenly pulling at your mind, and knowing vehemently that you did not need saving by some guy in a black mask. 

You continued to retrace your steps towards the ladder that led you back to your vantage point and a way home, empty handed. However, the deep voice stopped you again whilst you were only a few metres away. 

“Wait.” You tilted your head slightly back in his direction. “The name you said, Daniel Johnson was it-”

Anger shot through your veins, your voice coming out as more of a growl. “Don’t say that name” You simply said, watching as the man in black stood still, his lips still parted in question. But you simply turned and walked away, having had enough of the night. 

Your legs dragged heavy beneath you, feeling like logs as you battled each step. Now the adrenaline was wearing off, every step felt more difficult, and exhaustion was truly trying to pull you under the whole way back to your flat. 

As you walked down dark back alleys and hidden streets, you tried not to think about the fact that you’d had a gun pulled on you this evening, the cool metal of it still a phantom feeling against the skin of your head. Tried not to think about the fact that you could have died, and that for all of that, you still had no new information, thanks to the Man in Black. 

A couple of blocks from the location of your night's altercation, you paused, a heavy stone in your chest as you lent your head back against the cold and rough brick of an alley wall. A couple of shaky breaths escaped you, and much to your dismay, now that you were alone, surrounded by nobody’s emotions but your own, a tear slid from between your lashes down and over your cheekbone. You shook your head, and pushed off the wall with a kick of your feet, desperate to get yourself home. 

You pulled your jacket closer around your body, your hood still tight over your head, and walked quickly through the darkened and unsafe streets of Hell’s Kitchen at night, in the direction of your apartment. You kept your head down, trying your best to avoid any trouble. You didn’t think you had it in you for another fight of any kind this evening. 

You weren’t aware, however, that were you to encounter one, the man in black would be right there with you.

#matt murdock #fan fiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock fanfic #here goes nothing #sending this out into the ether

[waterfallofspace]

One Is Not Better Than None

Soooo I was scrolling through my google docs and remembered this little AU that I started writing (with the help of @themiseryandcompany) a few months back when I first joined snzblr~

And well, the actual 6 part story where they meet isn't finished, and reading it back... the parts that ARE finished could use a lot of editing~ it was one of my first attempts at snzfics, but I did find this little drabble/side story from the same AU~

It's not good, definitely not up to my current standards, but I did a little editing to make it hopefully readable, aaaaand since I've been a bit slow with content, I'll throw it out there incase anyone wants it!

~For Context: In this AU B/akugo is a doctor, and S/hoto is his boyfriend/a barista~ Word Count: 1.3k of utter nonsense that I'm posting because why not~

All Characters Written As 18+ In This Story, (picture late 20's)

~~~~~~~

Katsuki’s days off are few and far between, so when he does get time to spend at home, he finds that he often has a shadow.

Shoto seems to require constant contact, as if he fears that should their bodies stop touching for even a second, Katsuki would be out the door again. It would be annoying beyond belief, if it was anyone else. But it’s not anyone else.

He smirks over the journal he’s reading as Shoto lets out a breath that borders on a whine. He’s been trying to beat that level for an hour, and it seems like he’s just had to restart once more. 

“It’s not funny,” Shoto starts, catching Katsuki’s eyes as he glares up from his perch on Katsuki’s lap. A half-hearted gaze at best. “I’ve been at this forever. I just wanna beat it but this one boss has a frankly offensive level of regen. I know the strategy but I keep messing up the timing.”

With another sigh of frustration, the glare is long forgotten, instead replaced by a look that leaves Katsuki fighting the urge to kiss him until all the breath is sucked out of their lungs.

“Why don’t you just take a break and come back to it later when you’re less frustrated?” Katsuki offers, running a hand through Shoto’s mismatched hair. “Isn’t that what you always tell me when a recipe I’m trying for the first time isn’t going the way I want it to?”

“Yeah, but…” 

“What, too proud to take your own advice, Icy-Hot?”

It’s a nickname that came into being the first time Katsuki stayed over. Shoto had been sick at the time, and it was one of the first nights of pure vulnerability they’d experienced. 

With a fever, his body gets incredibly hot, but at the same time, he’s always swearing it’s freezing, shivering to make his point. During the night Katsuki tried to get him to take some blankets off, lest he smother himself to death, and Shoto’s reply was “I’m an icy pop”.  (To this day he still blames the fever talk for that little nugget).

To which Katsuki responded with a lighthearted “Oh yeah? Then why is said ‘icy pop’ so hot he nearly burns to the touch? Icy pop, more like Icy-Hot” and it just stuck from there. He normally saves it for playful teasing, such as today, but occasionally it slips out with a touch of softness when Shoto falls asleep in his arms. 

“No, this is different. I’m not frustrated, I just wahh!-” He breaks off, and Katsuki glances at him to see his eyes glossing over, mouth hanging slightly open, right on the brink for a few seconds until-

“heH-! hH’KESHHiew!”

A beat passes, Shoto’s eyes still unfocused, Katsuki biting a blessing back on his tongue.

“Snff- Bless me.” And with that, Shoto’s back to the level, leaving Katsuki to stare at him with a mystified expression. 

After several minutes of silence, and Katsuki’s eyes never leaving his face, mouth still slightly ajar, Shoto finally breaks away from his level to glance up at his boyfriend. “Uhh… what’s wrong..?”

“Y-you… sneezed…”

Shoto lets out a small chuckle, letting his phone rest on the couch as he sits up to meet Katsuki’s gaze. “Yeah? And? I do that quite often, you should know that by now.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, as Shoto continues with a smirk. “And even if I didn’t, it’s a perfectly normal bodily function. You’re a doctor, I’m worried for your patients if hearing someone sneeze shocks you this much.”

“But… you… it was…. only one?”

“I guess so, yeah.”

There’s another pause, then Katsuki begins again, his words coming out uncharacteristically timid. “It’s… it’s never just one…”

The dumbfounded nature of Katsuki’s voice is enough to make Shoto burst into laughter. The joyous sounds finally snap his boyfriend out of the trance that the single sneeze had put him in, as he lightly punches Shoto’s arm. 

Shoto pulls away, still shaking with the joyous tune dancing from his chest, rocking the couch with each burst. For a minute, Katsuki feels his heart start beating through his throat, mind running wild. His full laughter is so rare… I’d do anything to hear it for the rest of my life.

Finally coming to his senses, Katsuki fires back with, “Hey, don’t laugh at me! I’ve never heard you sneeze just once before, it’s always at least two, more often in the hundreds”

This earns him a very weak punch, laughter still dancing through Shoto’s eyes. “I’m not that bad!” Sniffling lightly to test the waters, Shoto shrugs. “But yeah, just the one, I don’t feel any more. I’m sorry, I’ll make up for it next time I’m sure.”

Shoto reaches forward, touching their lips in an apology for the harm that his lack of a fit had apparently caused. Katsuki leans into the kiss, but his eyes still seem a bit far away.

~~~~~~~ 

The rest of the day, it felt as if Shoto was under constant surveillance. Every time he looked over at Katsuki, his boyfriend was watching him, and would quickly avert his eyes, pretending to be doing something else.

Finally enough is enough. Shoto stands from the chair he was lounging in, and walks over to Katsuki who’s currently trying, and failing, to pull his eyes away long enough to read an article on his phone.

Wordlessly, Shoto leans down and rubs his nose against the cat-infested couch. Usually his meds are enough to starve off any really desperate attacks, but living in an apartment with your allergens is enough to set anyone off.

Add to that Shoto’s already sensitive nose, and it’s a sure thing that you’ll get at least a couple small fits per day. However, right now he needs that fit immediately, and his meds seem to be working a bit too well, so it’s time for drastic measures.

Rubbing his nose at all was a sure fire way to form a tickle, but add to that rubbing it against an allergen, and the reaction was certain to be quick and merciless.

“What are you doi-” Katsuki starts, but is cut off by Shoto’s breath catching, as he holds up a finger, attempting to explain himself before the fit can start.

“You... w- were... hehh- ihh... st- staring... at m... ESH’shiew-! Ishh’yu-! kishh’oo-! tishh’iew-!” 

Still trying to catch up, Katsuki can only blink, muttering to himself, “I was staring…” 

“huh- ishh-tishh-kESH’iew! Tishh’oo! Heh- hH’kschh!” 

“Bless you-”

“hep’kschh-kshh-nggxt’shiew! hehh… hH’ngnt! G’nxxt!uhh Hh’ ihhh… hDT-” 

Shoto pauses for a second, watery eyes pointed at the ceiling, seemingly stuck in a hitchy agony, caught between the overwhelming urge to sneeze, and the denial taunting him. 

With a shaky exhale, and a snff, he tries to finish the sentence he began earlier, “Staring ahahh at-”

-which the sneezes pick as the perfect time to release themselves. “ihh’keschh’oo-! hH’ISH’hieww-! Staring at me. Oh, bless me. It was starting to scare me a little."

Katsuki flushes at the accusation, admitting to himself, and only himself, that there may be a touch of truth in it. He sheepishly hands some tissues to Shoto, who takes them with a wink and a chuckle, cleaning himself up as Katsuki averts his eyes.

Once finished, he drapes himself onto the couch, lips hungrily capturing Katsuki in a deep kiss, only stopping once he needs to take a desperate breath and duck another “hh’kssh-! Ihh… heH! hahh’keTSH’iew-!” into his shoulder.

“Bless you… Ya know, you shouldn’t have done that, you’re gonna be sneezing for hours now ya dumbass.” The words may sound harsh, but there’s no fire behind them. 

Shoto lets his head rest on Katsuki’s chest, looking up at him, eyes alight with mischief. “Well worth it in my book. As much as I enjoy you watching me, I was starting to worry you’d forgotten how to blink.”

This earns him another light punch, but the laughter that comes with it makes his statement even more true. 

Anything is worth getting to hear that laughter. The true kind, the kind he doesn’t let other people hear. I’d do anything to hear it for the rest of my life.

Slowly he lets his eyes close, drifting off to the sound of Katsuki’s heartbeat, their breathing falling in sync, exactly how it was meant to be.  

La fin.

#waterfalldrabbles #because this is not a fic as much as a... #'tosses it at you and scurries away' type of drabble #it's not very good but hey! it doesn't need to be! #just a little bit of nonsense as a light apology for taking so long to fill requests or post anything worthwhile~ #i am currently in the middle of a specific collab with a beautifully talented person #and I'm INSANELY excited to share our baby <333 #buuuuut for now~ have this nonsense and please forgive me for it #(i will say tho~ reading it does make me a little happy because I can definitely see improvement now!) #(whiiiich does mean that it just looks even worse haha~) #okay okay ill stop stalling and hit post #b/akugou & s/hoto doctor AU #incase i ever finish/post the actual fic theres a tag for that now

[ellegreenawayslover]

20 Author Questions

I was tagged by @blackbird-brewster and @tedwinisconfused :) (This took me too long haha)

1. How many words do you have on AO3?

I have 12 works, two are not finished, and the rest are mostly one-shots. I also have like 4 or 5 other works in my docs that I really need to finish.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

74,082!!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly criminal minds.

I do have a few fics from other shows, but that is just because every time two women look at each other for a couple of seconds, I like to write them being in love. I haven't necessarily watched the show they are from. And most of them are just sitting in my docs and will probably will stay there forever.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Happy birthday!

Bedtime stories

Home

Paris is lonely in the mornings

Hope (is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

YES!! Every. Single. One.

My heart melts every time I see that someone commented on one of my fics. I would love to hug every person who takes the time to comment on one of my fics and give them a little kiss on their forehead, but I can't. The only thing I can do is reply to those comments and let them know how much it meant to me! :)

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I haven't written much angst that I like enough to post. And I usually write more hurt/comfort than angst, but I have a few of them.

The angstiest I have written so far is Paris is lonely in the mornings or (and if I didn't know better) I'd think you were still around. But I think once I finish the jemily fic I'm writing based on Is it over now? they won't be the angstiest anymore :).

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Like I said, I usually write hurt/comfort or just fluff, so I don't which one has the happiest ending, but here are the softest fics I have written: Personal prayer, Home, Happy birthday! and When Elle falls in love.

Not the happiest ending as such because it isn't finished yet, but my Elle fic Hope (is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have) is on its happy Elle face, and it will have a happy ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't (and I'm really grateful because I wouldn't know how to react, to be honest).

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I have written a few fics with smut, but I haven't written enough to know what I like to write if that makes sense.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I have. But in the sense of taking a character from another show/movie and making them appear in a fic of another one. Most of the time, I make them into a sort of original character and keep their name.

11. Have you ever had a fiction stolen?

Nope.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

(Unless you count me translating them into Spanish and keep that somewhere in my docs and forgetting they exist until months later and then delete them. I don't know why I do this because even though Spanish is my first language, I haven't really written in Spanish for years.)

13. Have you ever co-writtten a fic before?

Nope. I don't think I'd be able to because I write the ideas that have been stuck in my mind, but I can't explain them until they are finished (I don't know if it makes sense).

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Jemily!! I love them so much!

I also love Elle with any other female character, and lately, I've been writing more of Elle/JJ and Elle/Emily.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have too many WIPs in my docs, and I hope to finish all of them, but I don't know if I will or when I will.

One I don't know if I will finish, and it breaks my heart because I really loved it at first, is one about Emily in Paris when she is "dead," and although I wanted it to have a happy ending, it is pretty angsty, and I don't have the energy to go back to it.

16. What are your writing strengths?

If I am writing a fic about a little idea I had, I have all the details of what I want to write in my head and in a little notebook I take everywhere. I think I'm pretty good at describing the emotions the characters are feeling. So that, I guess.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

It usually takes me so long to write, but in the I can write 70% of something in 4/5 hours but spend twice the time for the other 30% way. I always have too many things in my brain, so focusing on just one to write is the most difficult thing sometimes, and my dyslexia won't let me write the things I want to write in a way that makes sense.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I love it, but when it is a language I don't know, I'm too scared to do it haha.

I do love to write some parts in Spanish in my fics.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

It was for a Spanish show about doctors that my best friend and I were obsessed with back when I was 11/12. After that, I would say a few other Spanish shows.

Criminal Minds was the first fandom I wrote that wasn't just for my best friend and me

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

I have an immense amount of love for Hope (is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have). That fic is my baby.

I also have a special love for The first step toward healing and Happy birthday! They are the first fics I wrote that I let other people read, and they are so special to me.

Tagging: @introverted-author @scorpsik @prentiss-theorem @5ivebyfive @alexblakeisgay (no pressure though)

#thanks for the tag! #tag game

[spikybanana]

fic writer tag game

@to-proudly-go thank u for the tag pal <3<3 (I very definitely love your poetic angst & your art)

How many works do you have on ao3?

25 :) 15 for hp and 10 for star wars

What's your ao3 word count?

144,107!

What fandoms do you write for?

hp and star wars, though I've definitely brought the marauders fandom habits (delusional obsession w main character's dad and his best friends) straight to the prequels

What are your top five fics by kudos?

"trust" the inscription said (hp/wolfstar)

then he came home (hp/wolfstar)

don't let's die as heroes (hp/jegulily)

the prophecies spoke of you and I (sw/obikin) (which is also my most recent work, so it's crazy to me that it's up here)

slipped back in (hp/wolfstar)

Do you respond to comments?

I always do eventually!! even if it's the smallest comment I like to send a smiley face in reply. It's just that I might take forever coming up with what to say, especially for the super nice ones ;3;

What's the fic you write with the happiest ending?

hmm I'd say don't let's die as heroes for the marauders (literally turns 3 canonical funerals into a wedding) and Designation for obikin. & I usually write happy endings (minus canon fics) even if they're more "the future is uncertain but bright" rather than happily ever afters

Do you get hate on fics?

none so far! & they better not because if I do get hate I will cry

Do you write smut? What kind?

listen. listen. this is a whole Thing. as your neighbourhood ace, smut is like science fiction/horror to me. which is to say I have written both mlm and wlw sex scenes lol. it happens very rarely, but it has happened before & will happen again.

Do you write cross-overs?

I hope you know that I'm constantly thinking about how sirius/remus and anakin/obi-wan are homomorphic creatures and I really want them to meet. but also, so far, no. except if you count the wolfstar sw au sitting in the docs.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not afaik!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

not afaik either!

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I don't think so, but I would absolutely love to try

What's your all time favourite ship?

wolfstar and obikin are the same ship actually, so both. (unserious)

What's your WIP you like to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I read back on What You Will earlier today and scared myself so possibly that. (it's a jegulily parody of Shakespeare's twelfth night, and has already been rewritten from scratch twice, so maybe mayyybe there's a sign)

What are your writing strengths?

errrrr. occasionally poetic-ish description? I like writing pretty vibes. and occasionally punchy-feely stuff. where you stand above & survey a life through tiny poignant snippets far apart. quite a few of my fics are like that

What are your writing weaknesses?

so many. definitely more than I'm aware of too. I feel I'm awful at pacing & easily get bogged down in tiny details, which is why long fics have not worked out for me lol. It's also hard for characters to feel real to me, like I'd just stop in the middle of a story and think "my darling I do not understand you at all"

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I definitely love when I see them, but I've not tried it myself. it feels impossible to merge Mandarin and English in a way that feels natural (or write it down in English characters), even though come to think of it I do it with my brother all the time. huh.

First fandom you wrote for?

drarry! and I still wanna go back sometimes

Favourite fic you've ever written?

awh but I always like them better before they're words on the screen/on ao3. ideas are just pure vibes and potential yk? rather than a dozen annoying imperfections you're not good enough to fix. lol sorry, if I have to pick, Once Upon a Green Haze. it's unfinished & only has 3 chapters for now, but I like them.

I've seen this going around the dash for a while now, so open tag :)

#tag game

[mccall-muffin]

Love vs. Hate - Part 22 // Joe Liebgott x OC

Summary: While Liv has to recover from her being hit, another Patrol is planned and First Platoon is leading it. The war takes more and more its toll on Liv's mental as well as physical strength.

Warnings: Language, War wounds, slight Angst

A/N: These chapters are really hard to write tbh. Takes its toll on me too ;) And sorry Babe!

Here is my Masterlist

Tags: @brassknucklespeirs, @liebgotts-lovergirl, @lieutenant-speirs

My head hurts. It feels like my brain is pulsating against the top of my skull. What happened? Slowly I try to open my eyes. Something is blocking my left eye, but I don't know what it is. When I finally open at least my right eye entirely and my left a little, the sun blinds me. Damn, how long have I been gone? Carefully I try to sit up, but now the pain spreads from my head to my whole body. Groaning, I sit on the floor and grab my head with my hand but immediately jerk back as a sharp pain jolts through my cheek. "Fuck," I grumble to myself.

Then it all comes back to me. We were attacked. I was going to join Joe and Alley in the foxhole, but... Something went wrong. I quickly push off the coat lying on me and examine my pants, but nothing is on them. However, when I run over my legs, I feel the wounds. "Fuck, did someone take off my pants?" I ask myself. Only now do I look around. I am in the CP. "Fuck," I mutter again and sit down on the edge of the barrier. Now the headache has come back. I prop my head up in my right hand and rub my forehead. And then I am overcome by nausea. I stumble out of the foxhole, fall on my knees, bend over and vomit into the snow. The buzzing in my head doesn't get any better. I wipe my mouth and sit back down.

"Well, look who finally woke up," I hear a voice, but I don't look up. I know it's Winters. "How long was I gone?" I ask, caring little for formalities right now. The pain is too big for that. "About three hours. Another hour and we would have taken you away." Now I look up and look the captain in the eye. "Well, Merry Christmas to me. How bad is it?" I ask, and Winters presses his lips together. "Dick, please. How bad?" Dick lowers his gaze before picking up a mirror and holding it to me. Hesitantly, I take it and try to look at myself.

I swallow once. A thick stitched wound is emblazoned under my left eye. My whole left eye is blue and swollen, and there is still blood in my hair. My lip is also cracked, and I look like I've just been god-awful beaten up. "Jesus Christ," I mutter. "It'll get better, Liv," Winters assures me. "Thanks for the pep talk, Dick, but this..." I point to the wound. "Will never go away. God dammit!" Winters takes a deep breath and looks down at the floor. "These aren't my pants," I say then, and Dick looks me in the eyes again. "No, they're not." Questioningly, I look at him. "You had all sorts of shrapnel in your legs, Liv. Doc had to treat the wounds and stitch some up. Your pants were useless, so I got you new ones." "Doc changed me...?" I ask, looking down at myself. "Don't worry... Joe changed them.“ "In front of you?" Dick looks at me with amusement. "I know you don't think I'm stupid, Liv..." "It's okay. I'm sorry, Dick." "Here," he then says and throws me my flask. "This was in your pocket, along with that." He puts something in my hand. When I open it, it's my compass. The one I got from Don, Penk, and Skip. When I open it, it has a slight crack in it. "Thank you," I say thankfully and look at Dick.

"Okay, let's send someone to the boys and let them know you are awake." "Oh, that's not necessary. I can go myself..." "No," he interrupts me immediately. "I want you to stay back here for a while. Not forever, but certainly for a few more hours." "But..." "That's an order, Sergeant!" "Yes, sir," I say immediately, hanging my head. "Do you have a pen, Captain?" I then ask, and he looks up in confusion. "I just want to write a few words to Don and Joe, nothing more," I say, and Dick takes a pencil out of his breast pocket and tosses it to me. "Oh, and can you let Doc know that I need something for the pain?" "Sure."

Don's POV: I sit convulsively in my foxhole with Bill. My thoughts keep circling back to Liv. We still haven't heard anything, and it's been hours. I'm starting to get worried. Doc came to see us an hour ago and said they'll take her away if she doesn't wake up soon. I sincerely hope that does not happen. I can't go on without her. "She'll be fine, Malark. Don't worry," Bill says when he sees my worried look. "I hope so, Bill... I hope so."

Suddenly we hear footsteps behind us then I see Doc coming toward us. He crouches down to us and looks at me. "What's the matter Doc? Is something wrong with Liv?" I ask immediately. Doc looks me in the eye for a moment. "She woke up..." "What?! And how is she?" "She has a headache, probably a concussion, but that's to be expected. Winters is keeping her back for a few more hours so she can recover. I just went to see her and checked her out. I expect she'll be her old self in no time." Relief spreads through me. "See, what did I tell you?" says Bill, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Here, I'm supposed to give you this. Do you know where Liebgott is?" Eugene then asks, holding out a piece of paper to me while holding a second one in his hand. "I think he had to take a piss," Bill breathes, "Okay, give this to him when you see him, will you?" We nod, and I take the second piece of paper as well. "What is it?" asks Bill when Eugene has disappeared. "It's from Liv."

I'm fine! Don't die, or I will kill you! Love you -L

I have to smile at her words. It's just Liv. "And what does she say?" "That I shouldn't die." Behind Bill, I see Joe coming back. "Hey Joe," I call out to him, and he comes over to us. "What's up?" he asks immediately. He, too, is worried about Liv. "Liv woke up. Here, this is for you," I say and hold the note to him. I can see relief in his eyes before he takes the message and disappears into his foxhole.

Joe, I'm fine. Please don't worry about me. I hope to be back with you soon! Thank you for everything! Love, -L

Liv's POV: When Dick finally lets me rejoin the others after several hours, I feel the stares at me. My eye is still swollen, and the scar looks terrible.

"Liv," I hear someone call after me, and I turn around. It's Buck walking toward me. I notice him falter briefly when he sees me. "How are you?" For a moment, I just look at him. "Are you sure it's okay?" I nod, then bite my lip. "It has to be." For a moment, we stand there. "Where's Don?" I ask, and he points his head toward the front. "Thanks," I say, turning away. "Liv?" he calls after me, and I turn to face him. "Yeah?" "Good to have you back." I nod and then continue walking.

I quickly find Bill and Don's foxhole. They are both asleep, and I slide into the hole with them. Don wakes up immediately and looks at me. "Holy shit!" he curses, waking Bill up and taking me in his arms. "You don't know how glad I am that you're okay." I force myself to smile as he pulls away from me. "You must have gotten something there," Bill says with a smile, and you raise an eyebrow.

Don eyes me, then grins. "You look like shit." "Wow. Thanks, Don!" I say, unable to suppress a small smile. He puts an arm around my shoulders. "Come on, sweetheart. You know what I meant."

After a while, I look toward Joe and Ally's foxhole, but I can't spot Joe anywhere, so I turn back to Don and Bill. "Where's Joe?" I ask, looking at the two of them, who exchange a look. "Guys?" I ask again emphatically, already imagining the worst. "Winters called him into HQ as a runner. After you got hit, he couldn't think too clearly, and it all got a little too much for him."

I look at Don and let his words run through my head. "He'll probably be there for a few days," Bill now adds, and I nod. "Okay... I uh... I'll head to First Platoon, then," I mutter, climbing out of the foxhole. "Liv? Take care of yourself, okay?" I nod and then join the others.

I last saw Joe a few days ago. Dick kept him behind all the time, but at least he was safer there than at the front. Still, it hurts not to see him.

I received a few pills from Doc that should help if the headache gets too bad. However, he pointed out to me that I should only take them if they were unbearable since he doesn't have any more of them.

That's easier said than done because regularly, it feels like my skull is about to explode, and nausea overcomes me again and again.

January 1st, 1945 - Bastogne, Belgium

With folded arms, I stand leaning against the jeep and listen with half an ear. I don't believe all this holy crap anymore. The priest had just finished the service. "Fight well for God and your country. God bless you all. Stay safe." I snort in amusement and shake my head. "You're not much of a believer, are you?" asks Peacock, who has come to stand beside me. "Why should I, after God gave us all this?" "Point taken."

"That's it. Nothing to worry about. We die now; we die in a state of grace. Isn't that right, Babe?" Muck shouts, and I have to

I later round up the guys and explain everything about the planned patrol. "We go until we make contact."

"Peacock's leading," Bull mutters, looking over at Peacock. "That asshole couldn't find a snowball in a blizzard," George adds, and I look at them both. "Stop it now, George. He's not leading - I am," I say, and they both look at me. "Oh hey, Liv. You sure? We don't wanna screw up that pretty face any more than it already is." "Luz, just shut up, okay?"

"Sarge?" then Julian walks up to me. "Julian." "Let me be the lead scout." I exchange a quick glance with Johnny, who raises an eyebrow. "Back in line, private," he says, and I nod. "Move out. Tactical columns, men."

Behind us, I see Gene about to join the patrol, but I stop him. "Gene, it's a combat patrol. Why don't you stay back and keep out of trouble?" He looks at me for a moment, then nods. "Yes, sergeant." "Right. Move out. Go."

We walk silently in one direction for a while. Again and again, I exchange glances with Johnny, who seems as tense as I am. Suddenly, we hear gunfire aimed at us. "Fire! Get down! Get down!" I shout, and we take cover behind some logs. "Shit!" I quickly realize that one of our men is hit and completely caught in the crossfire.

"Johnny! We got a man down!" I call out to him and then see that Julian was shot in the neck but is still alive. "Fuck!" I curse. "What have we got?" shouts Johnny back over the noise. "Kid's down," I call, and he looks past me at the bleeding Julian. "We gotta make a move."

"I can get him, sarge," Babe calls out, lying on the floor in front of me. I nod at him. "Suppressing fire! Suppressing fire," I shout to the men.

Babe somehow tries to get to Julian, but the Krauts reopen fire every time he scrambles forward. "Stay there. Don't move. Stop moving, or they'll keep shooting," he shouts at his friend. "Babe, for fuck's sake!" I now yell at him, who keeps trying. "I can do this!" Babe assures me, but I see black.

"What's happening, Liv?" Johnny then calls out to me, and I give him a slightly exasperated look. I have the decision to make. "We're pulling back. We made contact," I then call out. "I gotta inform Peacock!" Babe's shocked look hits me as he hears my words. But then he turns back to Julian. "Don't move. Don't move, or they'll keep firing. Stop moving!" "God dammit!" I curse again as the fire doesn't diminish. I also fire again in the direction of the Germans.

"Fuck. Sarge, what--?" Babe then shouts, but I interrupt him. "Pull back! We gotta pull back!" Johnny nods and grabs the first soldier next to him. "Let's get the hell out of here! Let's go!"

"Come on, stay with us. Hold on! Stay with us! Look at me. Stay with us! Hold on," Babe still calls out to Julian, making no move to retreat. "Babe, move! Now!" I shout to him, but he ignores me.

"Don't move; we're coming back. We'll get you out of here. Hold on." Now I grab Babe by the collar and pull him to his feet. "Go. Let's go! On me, move! Come on, let's go." I push him in the direction of the others, and reluctantly he allows himself to be pushed. "Come on, Babe!"

"Where the hell are we?" shouts Johnny a little later, and I look around. "Straight ahead. Straight ahead."

I walk right up to Peacock when we return to the others. "Tom, we got a casualty," I inform him, and Johnny stands beside me. "Who?" he asks immediately, looking at the men. "Julian. He got hit in the neck. He was still alive, but we had to pull back. We made contact at the enemy line," I explain to him. Meanwhile, he turns to George. "Okay! Set the radio up on the rock." George executes the order, and Peacock radios into the CP. "Easy CP. Easy CP. Lightning, over. I need a jeep at the CP. Eyes sharp!"

A short time later, Peacock is gone, and suddenly Winters comes up to us. "Martin? Liv!" We both look up. "Sir?" asks Johnny, and Winters looks at us before spotting Babe, standing behind us but still entirely out of it. "What's going on?" "They got Julian," Johnny says. "He's alive. We gotta get him," Babe interjects, and I give him a stern look. "We don't know that," I say sharply.

"Did you hit an OP or their line?" Winters asks. "Their line." "We gotta get Julian!" Babe says again, and I give him another admonishing look. "No! Now fall back." "Where's Peacock?" asks Winters then. "At the CP," Johnny says, and Winters looks thoughtful. "We couldn't get to him, captain. Babe tried. We couldn't get to him," I say, hanging my head.

Winters nods understandably and then tells us all to pull back. My gaze wanders to Babe, who gives me a disappointed look. I suspect he blames me for not being able to get Julian. I take a step toward him. "Babe..." I say, but he immediately turns away.

Johnny puts a hand on my shoulder. "He'll get over it," he says, trying to smile at me encouragingly. I rub my eyes for a moment, then sigh. "I don't know what he expects me to do. He would have died just the same if I had let him go. It was an impossibility." "I know that, Liv. And Heffron knows that, too. Give him time." I hang my head, then nod.

#Band of Brothers #Joe Liebgott x OC #Joe Liebgott #Don Malarkey #Babe Heffron #Band of Brothers fanfic #Bobedit #hbo war #hbo series #bob #Joe Liebgott fanfic #Part 22 #Love vs. Hate

[die-schwanenkoenigin]

20 questions for fic writers

I was tagged by @lilolilyr 🥰💕❤️ thank you so much!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

85!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

409,668, more than half of which I've posted this year---210,056 words, to be exact, which is absolutely insane!!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently only Mirandy (Devil Wears Prada).

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Well, this is going to be embarrassing, lol:

bad things (487)

nightly encounter (469)

Too Soon, Not Soon Enough (434)

unexpected (410)

Stalling the Inevitable (377)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Absolutely! I respond to every single comment I receive. I love interacting with people, hearing their thoughts and ideas! Every time I get a comment, it reminds me of the fact that there are actual, real humans out there that read my writing??? And that's still so crazy to me, even after 6 years???? So I always feel the need to let them know how much I appreciate them!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

That would be two:

Thank you, baby (for loving me like you do)

unrequited

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Ohhhhh, I am SUCH a sucker for happy endings. You'll find that---taking away the two outliers from the previous question, obviously---all my works have happy endings!!

8. Do you get hate on fic?

I can't remember ever receiving any. That said, people do sometimes comment things like "hmmm this is weird" or whatever but, like, I pretty much just ignore that.

9. Do you write smut?

Oh, I am very much into writing smut, yes! In fact, I've currently got The Kink Series going on which... is exactly what it sounds like, lol. Smut, smut, and then some more smut; though, in this case, I'm actively trying to dive into things I haven't explored before.

Also, I've just noticed that out of the 16 works I've written/posted for the DWP fandom, 13 have been explicit. Whoops?

10. Do you write crossovers?

I haven't so far, no!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I had someone repost some of my works in a smut collection a few years back. They mentioned my username, but did not ask me beforehand---or even tag me properly. I ended up asking them to take it down, and they did. My finding it in the first place had been a complete fluke, though.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, though I've attempted to translate some of my own works. It didn't work. (I realized I suck at writing in German, lmao.)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope! But I've just recently talked about a potential collab with someone whose writing I really enjoy! So that's exciting!

And just in general, I'm very open to trying out new things---i.e. collaborating on fics.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Well, I'm going to have to say Mirandy here. This ship really has me in its grip. I love the dynamics, and I thoroughly enjoy playing with their characters. There are so many things to explore!

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?

Okay, so, I do have this one idea. And I've written... a tiny little amount. Maybe around 3k. I realized, however, while I was writing, that it would most likely take 20k+ words to make it anywhere near enjoyable. It just wouldn't flow otherwise, I don't think; plus, I wouldn't be able to properly explain everything. Unfortunately, I'm just not really one to write multi chapter fics, and so I've come to the conclusion that it'll probably just sit in my docs forever and collect dust.

Sorry @ Assignment WIP.

16. What are your writing strengths?

As soon as I've got a good sentence to get me started, I can usually just keep going and get all my ideas out in one or two sittings. I'm also an exceptionally fast typer, which means I can write things down as quickly as soon as they pass through my head. Very good, considering my memory is absolutely crap.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I have no organizational skills. So if I realize a fic idea would have to be explored in multiple chapters, I usually retreat and abandon the idea.

That also means I just...do not plan fics. Ever. Not even my one shots. I'm 100% serious when I say I would not have the patience to plot out, say, a slow burn fic. They either get it on, or they don't. (And in my case, they pretty much always do. 😏)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I did this all the time when writing Mariana/Ana fanfic. Madre Solo Hay Dos was, like, my first fandom earlier this year; effectively letting me reconnect with fic writing; and it was right around the time when I was obsessed with learning Spanish. So I constantly included Spanish text conversations, as we all as---occasionally---dialogue. 10/10, would recommend and do again.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Camren (Fifth Harmony). That's what got me into writing back in 2017, and it stuck with me for quite a while.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Hmmm... that's really hard. I love soulmate AUs, and considering my obsession with Mirandy at the moment, I think I'd have to go for Too Soon, Not Soon Enough.

Though I did also very much enjoy writing Pretty, Dirty Girl as well as the other, kinkier fics, including, for example, Four Play. The latter was challenging at first, but ultimately a great exercise.

Thanks again, friend, for tagging me!!! ❤️

I'm going to go ahead and tag @harrytoad, @sporkmetender, @guardianrock, @awomanontheverge. None of you have to feel obligated to do this, though. 🥰

oh, and if any other writers see this post---you're welcome to do this as well!!

#aaaaaaaaaaa i loved doing this so much thank you!!!!!! #💗✨️❤️💕 #fanfiction #myfanfic #tagged:sk

[words-and-seeds]

8 from the kiss prompt for whoever you’d like hun! 💜

I know this is old as hell, but I've had this sitting in Docs forever, just trying to get the nerve up to post it.

~~~

The moon was hanging, fat and yellow, over the bay at Clemens Point, and the rest of the gang was still singing around the fire. It was a celebration - a job concluded without a hitch, a change in luck for the Van Der Linde gang - loud, off key, and grinding to a halt from the amount of whiskey imbibed. 

Jack had been hustled off to bed early on, and Jessie couldn’t help but wonder how he was managing to sleep through it all. Practice, she concluded. Lots of practice. She certainly wouldn’t be able to, no matter how hard she tried. 

But she was going to try.

She was still new, still an unknown element to the rest, and she had a long way to go to prove herself. All of Sean’s praise and commendation hadn’t gone far, but the job she had scoped out for the next day would go a long way. Provided she could pull it off. If she did, it would put a fat wad of cash into the coffers everyone was so worried about, not to mention her own pocket. If she didn’t...well, she wouldn’t be around to hear anyone say ‘I-told-you-so.’

It took a minute to get off the log she’d been using as a chair. Maybe the world was a little blurry around her, but she thought she would be able to make it to the lean-to and cot she had taken as her own. Two minutes later when she was leaning heavily against a tent, struggling to keep herself upright, she thought a bit differently. 

“You alright?” 

She couldn’t place the voice, not at first. Not until she shifted to glance over her shoulder. 

Arthur Morgan. 

The gang’s main muscle. And aside from a hard look and a few sarcastic words tossed in her direction after Sean’s effusive praise, he hadn’t much to say to her. Which was a damn shame, Jessie thought, because the man had a face that made her lady parts sing, and a body to match. 

It took a minute, but when he continued to sit and stare, with one hand on his belt buckle in a way that couldn’t help but draw her eyes, Jessie realized that she still hadn’t answered. She nodded.

“Need some help?” 

Before she could shake her head, he went on, “only, that’s my tent you’re hanging off, and I’d like to get some sleep.”

She made a valiant attempt to stand on her own, only to topple, and would have hit the ground, hard, if his arms hadn’t closed around her. 

He scooped her up, and if she swooned, Jessie reasoned, it was only because she was slightly more tipsy than she realized and not because he hoisted her around like she weighed no more than a pillow.

The trek from his tent to hers seemed to last forever, but at the same time, it seemed only an instant later that he was setting her on her bed. She was sitting up, swaying slightly, as he worked at the little black buttons on her boots. When he cursed, mostly under his breath, and jerked her foot away from the cot, she fell back onto her hands.

“Y’know, you look pretty good down there,” she told him, delighting in the way the tips of his ears turned red, and his bad tempered grumbling as he fussed with her boots. 

“Goodnight, Mr. Morgan. Sweet dreams.” Jessie leaned up to press her lips against his whiskered cheek, but her aim was woefully off. Instead of his cheek, her lips brushed his.

For just one moment, everything seemed to crystalize around him.

He froze, but Jessie was already sinking back into the cot, the embrace lasting no more than a second. He remained right where he was, crouched down next to her cot, for another moment before he rose. He pulled the blankets up around her before he stomped out of the lean-to, muttering under his breath about “damn fools”. 

He wasn’t sure if he was talking about himself or her.

#rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x oc #oc: jessie

[sluttyhenley]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @starrybouquet (thank you!!)

1. how many works do you have on Ao3?

50 (actually 51 if you count the one that hasn't been revealed yet)

2. what's your total Ao3 word count?

269,637

3. what fandoms do you write for?

I have posted in 18 different fandoms on ao3 but most recently 911, Top Gun and The Old Guard

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

my heart is working overtime (e, 911, buddie, 4k)

is forever enough (e, 911, buddie, 10,4k)

lover good be good to me (e, the old guard, joe x nicky, 20.4k)

a twister to blow everything down (t, 911, buddie, 17.2k)

when one plus one equals three (t, 911, buddie, 3.6k)

(gonna also say how blown away i was by the reception to my heart is working overtime, considering it really is one of my sillier fics)

5. do you respond to comments?

yeah, it typically won't be right away, but i do tend to reply to comments definitely! on a multi-chapter fic it doesn't tend to be until i'm posting the next chapter

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

the sound of glass (kate daniels, m, hugh d'ambray x christopher steed)

i wrote this fic for the kate daniels series last year for yuletide. i kept it within canon parameters and therefore there was no way for this pairings ending to be anything but angsty. to this day my fic is the only one in that pairing tag.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

either is forever enough (mentioned above) or put a hold on my heart (e, tgm, rooster x phoenix, currently sitting at about 31k) which i haven't finished posting yet, but like i did finish writing it and let me tell you that ending is some of the sappiest shit i've ever written

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i have. both times i deleted the comment with the intention of moving on, the second time the commenter didn't let me do that so i responded with a rocky horror gif

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i didn't used to but boy howdy those scenes sure do seem to be finding their way into my fics. i have a wip in the works that opens practically right out the gate with two explicit scenes. it took me a bit to get back into m/f smut after writing so much m/m for buddie. (i haven't posted any f/f but i have written it for an original work)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

yep! only one and it was a cross between the old guard and leverage and it was such a fun time actually

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

if so i don't know about it

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

nothing beyond bouncing ideas back and forth with others

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

oh god. i have like. the ones that scratch an itch in my brain and ones that i love writing for. i got new ones this year (icemav and rooster x phoenix) i love writing buck x eddie and i have had a lot of fun writing book of nile.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i have a couple of ideas that i started and then kind of moved on from those fandoms (i had a couple of hp wips that i was excited about but will now never finish) but really a lot of what i have sitting in my docs that are unfinished are things i would like to come back to someday

16. What are your writing strengths?

dialogue, probably. and humor

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

i've had to spend so much time developing my imagery skills, and describing action. explicit scenes are such a challenge for me, from vocabulary to action. but as i work on them more i find myself developing those. but all of that are still very much weak points for me

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i won't really do it unless it's just a few words. i did it in a book of nile fic a while back, but i kept it to a few french phrases that i could translate in text.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

the first fandom i ever posted fic for was the librarians. i actually wrote some doctor x rose stuff that never went beyond the privacy of my own docs.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

i'll do three that i'm really proud of (and a bonus one that i can't name because it hasn't been revealed yet) put a hold on my heart (i just am so fond of it and all the little details that i came up with for the story some of which will be expanded on in other fics) words i've never said (it was fun to write a mistaken identity christmas fic for buddie and i really do like how it came out) let's get lost (and let the good times roll) which i wrote as a companion to lover be good to me (mentioned above) and i just really liked getting to explore and expound on another facet of that story and i really liked the character dynamics i created

tagging (no pressure of course!): @natashatrace, @reachingforaspark, @ladywaffles, @redbelles

#things i wrote #tag games

[antilocaprine]

4! 6! 11! 25! 40! 44! 81!

(Ask Game)

Oh my gosh, that's so many! Thank you!

4. what is the plot bunny you’ve been carrying for the longest? Technically? Some Stars - the Among Us crossover. But that one's in progress, so it might not count. Unpublished would probably be the post-canon bittersweet story where Gordon realizes Benrey is still alive, but trapped on Xen, millions of lightyears and multiple dimensions away. It's really tough for me to balance bittersweet moods, so it's stuck in development hell for now.

6. do you have any kind of consistent writing schedule or just hoping for the best? I try to sit down to write every day after work. It doesn't always happen - sometimes I talk to friends for a few hours, sometimes I'm too tired to even stay awake a few hours. I try to get something done every day - but no, no consistent schedule, unfortunately.

11. what’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? also, how much do you worry about doing research in general? Most of my research is incidental - I'll usually put something in my writing that I already researched for another reason, like the entire Suez Canal fic. I'd been following the news reports, so I already had a decent idea of what had happened, and I think I only looked up some specifics of how the canal pilot system operates. I like having things be accurate, so I tend to do quick lookups for some things, but I am also easily distractible, and so have to be careful not to get sucked into reading something when I'm supposed to be writing.

25. what’s your revision or rewriting process like? Almost nonexistent. I am really bad at writing multiple drafts - I write one draft then go back and reread, nitpicking as I go. It worked for school essays and it's been working for fics as well.

40. best piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten. Any time someone tells me my writing made them feel something. That's the ultimate goal, honestly.

44. any writing advice you want to share? You gotta write. You have to sit down and put words on the page. I know, I know - daydreaming about the plot is SO much easier and more fun and better - but I'm telling you, you gotta write it down or it will go away. I have so many ideas in my "for later" doc that I was surprised by on a reread because I had completely forgotten about them. If I hadn't written them down, those ideas would have been gone forever.

81. if you could go back in time and give your younger self a piece of writing advice specific to you, what would it be? Honestly, get into fanfic writing earlier. I've been reading fanfic for ages, but never felt like I had a worthwhile idea to add until my first HLVRAI fic. And now that I've thought about it so much, I can look at other media and go "hmm...what if...?" Plus, I've met so many wonderful people through my fics, and it just makes me think I could have met so many more if I'd been writing fanfic for half as long as I've been reading fanfic.

#askbox #on anon #writing #behind the scenes #thank you! this was very fun!! #hlvrai

[dangcommaannie]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Not necessarily tagged, but I saw @dadvans do this and I wanted to too lol

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

104!

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

453,629, which is way more than I thought!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mainly Haikyuu right now. I used to write a fair amount of Yuri on Ice, Miss Sherlock, Overwatch, and Dream Daddy. I've got some Leverage fics too as well as some one off fics for some other fandoms.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Yes, Professor? (Yuri on Ice)

Bro? (Dream Daddy)

Read Between the Lines (Haikyuu)

Everybody Loves Toshi (Haikyuu)

All In (Haikyuu)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Absolutely! It might take me a minute, and I may read it and forget to respond, but I do try to respond to everything.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmmm I don't usually do angsty endings, so this was hard. But probably Like We Used To Do (Haikyuu) or Silver Bells and Cockle Shells (Dream Daddy.)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably To This Ordinary Day (Overwatch.) It's just all fluff.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not usually. I actually only got my first rude comment the other day, which, given how much I've written and for how long, is very good. Good on you, readers!

9. Do you write smut?

Yes, but not well lol

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you have written?

No full fics of crossovers so far, but I've written a few drabbles that had some crossovers when I used to do requests for Miss Sherlock.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know and I can only hope it never happens.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! It's so shocking to me that people want to translate my fics! As a polyglot, I know how hard it is to translate things and it's wild to me that people would pick to translate my fics!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I have not.

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

You think I, a wild multishipper and rare pair lover, can choose? In this economy?! Nah, but really, if I had to pick, probably yeehan (Overwatch), ushisaku (Haikyuu), ushiten (Haikyuu), ushioi (Haikyuu), and the ot3 (Leverage). There's definitely a trend there lol 😅

15. What is a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oh, no, sorry to my Yuri on Ice fans, but probably Kiss Kiss Katsudon! and Hey Mister DJ. I've had the docs for them sitting around for forever and I want to say that they'll at least get updated someday, I know it is highly unlikely right now. I'll still try, though. I'll still try. 👍

16. What are your writing strengths?

I would hope my characterization is good. I think I do well with dialogue too. I don't plan it, but I do unintentionally write a fair amount of character study that I think are good and I'm pretty sure that stems from me being an English literature major. Even though I have long since graduated, I still can't help but over-analyze and write essays. 😅

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Finishing anything and smut, which are kinda the same thing lol

18. Thoughts of writing dialogue in another language in fics?

I don't think I mind it. I can't recall if I've done it for a fic, but I don't have particularly strong feelings about it, I guess.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Probably Naruto. Quizilla is gone, but I know there are definitely still Naruto and Death Note fics on my FF.

20. Favorite fic you have written?

Time for me to promo some fics I feel deserve more love!

Nah, but really, though, Sleepless (Haikyuu) holds a very special place in my heart as does Yes, Professor? (Yuri on Ice). Neither are perfect, but they are influenced by some aspects of life, so they remain dear to me.

Legato (Haikyuu) was the first fic I wrote for @theorangecourt exchange and it was just way better than I had anticipated. Goshiki Tsutomu's Fool-Proof Step by Step Plan on How to be the Coolest Kid in Town (Haikyuu) was also inspired by my lovely friends in the Orange Court.

a book elegantly bound (Good Omens) was written on a whim and it's the first fic I wrote that got fanart.

Last, but definitely not least, 20 Questions (Haikyuu). I feel like this is one of my most underappreciated fics, and I need people to read it and appreciate it because I absolutely love and adore this fic so much. There is more of me in this than I had planned, but it still remains true to itself as well. I would not want to turn a fic into an actual published work, but if I had to, if someone forced me to, I would choose this one.

Tagging: Whoever wants to do it!

#personal post #about me #annie writes updates

[razzle-zazzle]

I want some royal au Cole and Lloyd interactions. Him discovering the truth first sounds fun.

Literally wrote this whole thing just now, but here you are!

1295 Words; Royal AU, s1

“C’mon, where is it…” Lloyd muttered, shoving various boxes to the side. “It’s gotta be in here somewhere.”

He kept his voice quiet, not wanting to be caught digging through Cole’s stuff. Most of the others were out, currently, but Wu was still lurking around on the Bounty being all mysterious, so Lloyd had to be careful.

But he pretty much had to dig through it, if he wanted to find Cole’s chocolate stash. And he knew Cole had a stash somewhere, he had to. The guy had a sweet tooth almost as big as Lloyd’s and more than enough allowance to indulge it (and how unfair was that, that Cole got such a big allowance while Lloyd’s own mother had abandoned him?), there was no way that Cole wouldn’t have a secret candy stash when he almost always had one sweet or another on him.

So here Lloyd was, perched precariously upon a stack of books atop a stool he’d dragged into the room, searching the top shelf of the closet for Cole’s supposed stash of sweets. But no such stash had revealed itself, and the frustration was getting to him.

Carelessly, Lloyd shoved a shoebox full of letters aside. But he shoved a little too hard, and it sent the box and its contents tumbling to the floor.

“Damn it.” Lloyd muttered, carefully climbing down his tower to start picking up the letters. Rule Number One of going through someone else’s stuff: leave it as you found it.

Of course, normally that would mean looking at the dates on the letters to put them back in the correct order. But Lloyd was in a hurry, so he just put them in the box as neatly as he could.

Or, well, he would have, but one of the letters had unfolded while fluttering to the floor. And because it was partially unfolded, Lloyd just barely noticed the sender’s address in the top right corner, stamped over with the royal insignia.

Since when was Cole getting letters from the Emperor?

“No way…” Lloyd unfolded the letter fully and started reading. His eyes only widened further as he read.

The search for sugary goodness forgotten, Lloyd sat down more comfortably and grabbed another letter to read. This was a Big Secret Cole was hiding, and Lloyd wanted all the details.

He was on his fifth or sixth letter when—and he really should have expected this—Cole entered the room, catching Lloyd red-handed.

“Uh… whatcha got there, squirt?” Cole asked, making Lloyd jump in surprise. Cole was standing in the doorway, face halfway between stern and surprised.

Hurriedly, though he already knew it was futile, Lloyd shoved the letter he was currently on behind his back. “Nothing.” He asserted, though his wobbly voice would have most certainly given him away had the cat stayed in the bag.

Cole frowned, unimpressed. “Lloyd,” he started, stepping closer, “I’m not stupid.” Cole closed the distance easily, and Lloyd shrunk back a bit. Why did Cole have to be so tall and imposing?

Lloyd considered his options. He could continue to lie, but he’d already been found out. There was no sense in digging himself deeper. He could try to redirect Cole’s attention, but that was just as likely to work as continuing to lie. So Lloyd took a breath, prepared to be yelled at, and brought the letter out in front of him.

“Here,” he handed the letter to Cole, and, after a second of thought, sneered and added, “your highness.”

The change was immediate. Cole’s eyes widened, his hand clenching around the letter. “Lloyd,” he hissed, “That’s supposed to be a secret!”

“Wasn’t a very well-kept secret.” Lloyd muttered. And then flinched as Cole glared at him.

Cole stooped down, sorting through the letters still on the floor and shoving them into the box with less care than Lloyd expected. “Well, normally,” Cole began, through gritted teeth, “people have the decency not to dig through other people’s mail.”

Lloyd cringed. He hadn’t originally intended to read through Cole’s mail, but that didn’t stop the fact that that was exactly what he ended up doing. But he wasn’t a total jerk—he’d keep Cole’s secret.

That didn’t mean he was against using his knowledge to leverage the occasional sweet out of Cole, though.

“Why were you even looking through my stuff in the first place?” Cole asked, setting the box back up on the shelf where it belonged.

Lloyd couldn’t think of a convincing excuse fast enough, so he went with the truth. “I was looking for your candy stash.”

“My… what?” Cole was staring at Lloyd now, confusion written all across his face.

“Don’t deny it!” Lloyd accused, “You always have chocolate on you, you’ve got to have some kind of stash squirreled away somewhere!”

“Okay, first off,” Cole closed the closet door, “I don’t have a candy stash. Second,” he stooped down and poked Lloyd in the chest, “even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you where it was, you gremlin.”

Lloyd growled. “Then how do you always have sweets on you?”

“I don’t?” Cole stood up, and, before Lloyd could make any attempt to leave, grabbed Lloyd’s arm and dragged him out of the room. “C’mon. Let’s find you something to do that isn’t completely disregarding someone’s privacy.”

Lloyd stuck out his tongue, but allowed himself to be dragged out onto the deck. Once they were at the bow (and Lloyd’s arm had been freed), he had to ask—

“Why do you keep it a secret?”

Cole paused, giving Lloyd an appraising look. “Because I don’t want people to know that I’m the crown prince?” He said it like it was obvious. But Lloyd didn’t get it.

“But why wouldn’t you want people to know? Being the prince is awesome! And they’d just like you better.”

Cole sighed and sat down. “Well, yeah, there are upsides to being royalty, but it’s not as great as you seem to think it is.”

“But everyone would like you better.” Lloyd pointed out.

“I don’t want them liking me based on something so superficial!” Cole pinched the bridge of his nose.

Lloyd frowned.

Cole sighed, leaning his head back. “Look, kid,” he began, “Everyone judges you based on who your father is, right?” He cringed, “Heck, even we did, at first. I’m not shitty enough to not admit to that hypocrisy. But the point I’m trying to make here is that people assume who you are based on your father, right?”

Lloyd nodded, understanding slowly dawning.

“It’s basically that.” Cole continued, “I don’t want people making assumptions based on my title.” He fixed Lloyd with a look that Lloyd couldn’t decipher. “I’d rather they know me as Cole first. Just Cole.”

“Oh.” The more Lloyd thought about it, the more it made sense. People probably expected a lot from Cole because he was the crown prince, and Cole didn’t want to deal with that. Lloyd understood that—everyone expected him to be some great evil in the making, and he’d always hated that.

How he had missed that Cole’s situation was pretty much the same, he didn’t know.

Lloyd curled up where he was sitting, wrapping his arms around his knees. “Sorry I dug through your mail.” He offered.

“Eh, you’re forgiven.” Cole shrugged, “Just don’t go telling anyone what you found out, okay?”

Lloyd nodded. “Of course not!” He was good at keeping secrets, and it was exciting, being privy to something so big. But now he had questions. So many questions. He scooted forwards, shifting so he was sitting criss-cross applesauce, and grinned. “Okay, but what was growing up in the palace even like?”

Cole fixed Lloyd with an appraising look, then shrugged. “Let’s take this conversation somewhere more private, okay?”

#ask zaz #zaz writes #royal au #ninjago #cole ninjago #lloyd garmadon #lego ninjago #i've had the first few words sitting in my doc for forever #and then today i typed out the rest of it in one sittiing #also sorry lloyd but you're not the only one who knows #zane found out first

[scuttle-buttle]

Chapter 11

WC: 2077

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: full on angst, discussions of emotional trauma, mild depictions of blood/gore, mentions of self h*rm & su*cide, mentions of child abuse, discussions of physical disabilities, institutionalization, some dialogue & plot canon to TV show, hurt/comfort

🧠

The rest of the conference went by much like the first day did. Both you and Laszlo bought a few books for your collections. An ease had settled over your conversations with the help of Sara and John's presence; you spoke more freely with each other. You tell yourself it is not because he's going soft on you or vice versa, but rather that you have found yourself in this imaginary bubble where you happen to get on well. It's inevitable that it will pop once you’re back at school and Laszlo will revert back to his usual callous state.

Laszlo. It still felt odd to think of him like that, rather than by his title. You couldn't lie, it gave you a sort of thrill. Even in your dreams you had only called him by his honorific. Thankfully you didn't have another dream after Friday. You couldn't escape the feeling that you'd said something incriminating in front of the man in question. So you chose to pretend it didn't happen.

Monday morning came and you headed to the train station. Once again he had secured a private cabin for the journey. This time you came prepared with a book since you had yet to replace your broken phone.

"Thank you again for inviting me to this, I really enjoyed myself. It was really nice of the department to foot my travel expenses, the hotel was really fancy. I may have helped myself to a mini-bottle or two," you joked.

"There is no need to worry about the department's finances; they were not involved."

You pause. He paid for you? Laszlo did say he would take care of the arrangements; but the four-star hotel, the private compartment train tickets, the admission to the conference, and every meal? Shit, that must have been a fortune, hundreds of dollars at least.

You don't know what to say, so you settle for an awkward "oh." A moment passes before you add "I appreciate that, um, I can pay you back. Might take some time but I can."

The professor is flippant in his reply. "There is no need, it was well spent for the research and knowledge acquired." He opens his book signaling the conversation is over.

You lick your lips. Fine then, I'll just consider it payment for emotional suffering and damages of the last eight weeks.

The first few hours of the journey were spent reading one of the new books you picked up at the convention. Occasionally you would peek over the pages at the professor. He was engrossed in his own selection; sometimes he would pause to write down a thought.

Around the seventh hour of your journey you had given up on reading anymore in favor of looking at the fields outside. The silence was comforting.

Laszlo had trouble concentrating on the book in his hand. He saw you as a conundrum. One minute you could be sociable and teasing with your comments, then next you were biting at his throat with your quick wit and fierce ideals. He decides that he wants to know what made you into who you are today. Now is as good a time as any.

His eyes on you cause a tingle up your spine but you ignore it. Laszlo breaks the silence; "may I ask a personal question?"

"You just did," you answer, still peering out of the large window. He huffed once, amused. At his following silence you face him. You raise your eyebrows to signal him to go on with his question. Curiosity grows at the thought of what he intends to ask.

"Twice now you have made implications of a traumatic past," he begins.

Bubble popped.

Interrupting, you snark "is this the part where you psychoanalyze me, doc? Because trust me, I've been through enough of that." You pick at the lint on your jeans.

Laszlo tries to choose his words more carefully the next time he speaks. "What I mean to say is, the first afternoon in the classroom where you defended that student you implied you had been witness to a trauma. You then displayed signs of anger and embarrassment before leaving prematurely. Yesterday you mentioned having entered a psychiatric facility. As an alienist I can't help but find myself curious about your experiences."

You slide your eyes to meet his from across the cabin. Your face is devoid of any emotion. "We all have our demons. Even you can't argue with that."

Your jaw clenches. Everyone had warned you. They all said he would try to worm his way into your head to figure you out. All the reviews, the gossip, everything. It was a big fat 'I told you so'. You give a pitiful laugh at the situation. "You know, everyone told me that you would pull this stunt."

He seems confused by your statement. "And what is that?"

"That you'd get inside my head and try to figure me all out or whatever. You already know I googled you beforehand, what everyone says about your methods. By now I assume you've done a little research yourself. I promise you there is nothing exciting here," you scoff and point to yourself.

"You would be correct in your assumption." You chew at your cheek as he starts. "I do know some of what happened in your past. Yet I also know that society likes to dilute the truth into something either more palatable, more entertaining, for people to consume greedily. What I want to know is what you have faced. How you have not allowed the experience to overcome you so much so that your humanity is erased like the characters I lecture on."

Eyes closing of their own volition you are thrown back in time to that night so many years ago. You didn't talk about it anymore. Bitsy knew of course, but that was the extent.

Laszlo waits. He knows this is likely to push you over the edge if your history with him means anything. Quite frankly, anyone would be tossed to their limit at his interrogation had they gone through what you had. John always told him that he needed to work on his bedside manner; that he had a habit of coming on too strong in his pursuit of learning the intricacies of the human mind. But your earlier comment about being sent to a so-called 'nuthouse' rubbed him the wrong way. It left a bad taste in his mouth. He needed to know. He needed to understand.

Laszlo can imagine the reprimand that he would receive from John and Sara for this. Just as he considers apologizing for his intrusion you open your eyes.

"She was fine. None of us suspected anything was wrong. I came home from having dinner with some… boy, and she had locked herself in the bathroom. She- she must have started over the sink and moved to sit on the side of the tub. She was hunched inside it when I got the door open. I pulled her out. Blood was… everywhere." Your voice is clinical as you explain.

"After, I shut down. So I checked myself into a psych ward a few days later when I couldn't get the feel of her blood off my hands. It's slippery, you know. And it smells. You wouldn't think so but it does." You clear your throat. "I did the therapy, took the meds they prescribed, all the standard treatments. Later I started watching true crime documentaries. I'd heard about exposure therapy so I figured the more I saw the gore, the less the image of my dead roommate would bother me. And it did help. The nightmares stopped after a while, I came back to school. I was better, just not the same.” You had watched the passing landscape as you explained. Turning to face him you speak again. “That's why those pictures didn't bother me. They weren't anything I hadn't seen before."

He contemplates you. The discovery and subsequent loss of your friend in this manner would no doubt cause lingering effects to your psyche. A stain that would forever remind you. "I offer my sincerest condolences. I do not presume to know what that would be like to experience, but I am glad you sought help afterwards. To make the choice to alleviate yourself of your own suffering where possible.”

As he says this he realizes that your anger towards the idea of being enslaved to unconscious impulse makes perfect sense. It explains why you focused so much energy on defending your belief in free will. That you have the power to choose how you carry your joy, your anger, your healing. It reminds him of how he held onto his own guilt and hurt, ignoring how it festered within him for so long. He feels as though he needs to share a piece of himself with you.

“I played piano as a child, quite well too. My mother hoped I would someday make a career of it. I vividly remember playing Mozart’s Concerto for Piano No. 20 in D Minor at a holiday party when I was seven years old. It was my favorite to play.... It requires two hands." You finally look at him. "My father...” He pauses to gather himself.

Now it is the doctor that cannot meet your eyes. As you listen you feel your confusion grow. How could he have been a talented pianist if he only had full use of his left hand? Unless..., the realization dawns on you just as he continues, his words slow.

“My father had two sides. One loving and the other brutal, the two often coexisting. It was something as trivial as putting me to bed, I recall... A game of tug of war. We were laughing…” He inhales a sharp breath. Already you can feel the tears begin to blur your vision. “I don't remember if he was drunk or if I said something that offended him. He must have pulled my arm behind my back.” Laszlo exhales shakily. “In small children, fractures can often affect…” he trails off, unable to finish. You can hear how he barely holds himself together.

Your heart aches for the broken man that sits in front of you. He never let on how much his arm bothered him, at least not within your presence. Suddenly you don’t see him as this rude, insufferable, obsessive man, but instead as someone that spends his life trying to protect himself. He projects his own anger and hurt so that he may, just for a minute, forget about his own demons. He wants to help others even when he feels he cannot bear to help himself.

But unlike you, he has to live with the physical reminder of his past every day of his life.

You stand and move to sit on his right side. Before allowing yourself to think too much of your actions, you place your hand atop his own, curling your fingers around his palm and squeezing delicately. You don’t bother wiping away the tears on your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Laszlo;” the whisper is barely heard above the sound of the train. A second passes where you fear you have overstepped and offended him by touching the affected limb. When his thumb tightens against the backs of your fingers you know he is not. He holds you in place.

“You asked me how I kept my humanity. How does anyone really? We learn to take what we get and we carry it in a bag. Sometimes you have to drag the damn thing behind you. But eventually the weight gets less and less if you allow yourself to move forward, even if it’s still there with you all the time. I dealt with what happened years ago and it does still haunt me. It’s easier now than it was, but… I- I suppose I’ve learned from you too. Sitting in those lectures and hearing you talk. We can either let it haunt us for the rest of our lives… or we can accept it… and use the memory of our pain to help ourselves and others.”

“I’m not sure the choice is entirely in our hands.” His tone is mournful.

You turn to smile at him through your tears. His own eyes are bloodshot. “I disagree. If it weren’t, if we didn’t have the freedom to choose that, we’d all be murderers.”

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams

#the interpretation of dreams #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo x reader #laszlo kreizler #the alienist #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler daniel bruhl #scuttle-buttle #tw self harm #tw suicude #tw child abuse

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter four - mri’s & other modern commodities

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.8k

synopsis: bucky faces his first day of treatment, and discovers some new things along the way: some scary, some awesome, some maybe slightly embarassing.

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: not my gif

When he woke up, he scanned his room, making sure everything was the same as how he left it the night before. Making sure no one came in while he was asleep and poisoned his brain. Making sure he was waking up in his living quarters in Wakanda and not a damp cell in some secret Hydra base. It was just something he did now.

Some may call it paranoia, others may call it adaptation. Either way, once he stepped outside and made sure he was alone, he allowed himself to take a breath.

Today was the day, the first day of official treatment. He had no idea what to expect; he was just hoping to high heavens that it would end up working. Freedom. That's all he wanted. Liberation from the chains Hydra had had around him since he fell from the train all those years ago.

He was apprehensive for sure, but he tried his best to keep himself optimistic. Bucky was sure that Shuri was smarter than any Hydra scientist he once came in contact with. So, if they can tear apart his mind, perhaps she can put it back together. Right?

Her in addition to (Y/N). That psychologist woman. He had spoken to her the day before at the lake. She was funny, and she seemed decently easy to talk to. That's a good sign, he guessed. She told him that she hadn't minded relocating to assist in his treatment, but he honestly couldn't make out her true feelings. She was rather hard to read. Perhaps it was a psychologist thing; he tried not to look too far into it.

He waited outside his door until two Wakandans came to escort him to Shuri. Bucky noticed they were armed. Guards. He wasn't surprised nor did he blame them. However, that didn't make it any easier to trust. He hadn't had that luxuy in a very long time. The former assassin fought against the voice in the back of his head telling him to analyze their every move in order to ensure that he wasn't in any danger. That any minute they weren't going to strap him down and rip his brain apart the way it had been so many times before. So many times. He gave the slightest wince at the thought. His brain suddenly felt prickly, painful memories creeping up on him.

Not now, don't think about it.

Sometimes, if he fixated on the thoughts for too long, he would drive himself to this panicked state of fear and constriction. He wasn't sure exactly what this thing was. All he knew was that these things - these episodes - were extremely unpleasant, and utterly unnecessary at the moment.

He shook his head (somehow hoping that this would rid him of the prickly memories like a dog shaking off water), strands of long brown hair swaying quickly in front of his eyes, and fixed his gaze to the floor.

Floor. Floor. Floor. Floor. Just the floor. The floor. The floor. The floor-

"Sergeant Barnes!" Shuri welcomed him happily.

Oh. He was in the lab now. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Let's do this.

"Good morning," he smiled, "and just Bucky's okay."

"Of course, of course. This is my lab! Best place in Wakanda in my humble opinion. Today's only the first day of treatment, so nothing too intensive. But, we will be working all the same!"

He glanced around the lab. The guards were at the doorway and they didn't look like they were leaving anytime soon. Again, he wasn't surprised. Moreover, sitting at a table a few feet from Shuri, was a familiar face. This familiar face soon met his gaze.

"Hi, Bucky" (Y/N) greeted, offering a polite smile. "See! I remembered this time."

Bucky grinned. "Are you still (Y/N), or is it Dr. (Y/L/N) since we're in the lab now?"

"I'm always (Y/N)."

"I don't know, if I went to school for as long as you did, I'd make everyone call me Doctor," Shuri added.

(Y/N) laughed. "Well, if you want to call me Doctor you're more than welcome, Shuri."

"That's the spirit, Doc," she declared before turning to Bucky. "Now, follow me and we'll get a quick MRI done."

"A what?" He quickly caught up to Shuri who already started walking away.

"An MRI. It stands for magnetic resonance imaging. Basically, scanners use strong magnetic fields, magnetic field gradients, and radio waves to generate images of the organs in the body."*

Yes, very basic.

(Y/N) leaned over to Bucky, explaining softly, "It's used to form pictures of the anatomy and the physiological processes of the body."**

"Oh."

"You just lay down and it scans you. Y'don't even feel anything."

"Thats... not too bad, I guess."

"It's a bit of a tight fit though, so I hope you're aren't claustrophobic."

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, after cryo, I doubt tight spaces will be too much of a bother for me."

"Right," said (Y/N), "but it's still decently in your personal space. Just so you know - so there's no surprises."

He nodded. They didn't say anything until Shuri stopped short in front of them. She stood a couple feet from a shiny metal table which was lined up in front of an equally shiny and metallic semi-cricle arch. It was long enough to fit - well, would you look at that - a body.

"Oh. I guess there is a surprise," (Y/N) blurted, turning to Shuri, confused. "That isn't like any MRI machine I've ever seen."

"That's because you're in Wakanda," Shuri flashed a proud smile. "Tech's a bit... advanced here."

(Y/N) turned to Bucky. He thought he saw something resembling self consciousness flow across her features, but he wasn't sure.

"Sorry, I guess I was wrong. But, honestly this is way better than a typical MRI set up. It's much more open... and wide. Regularly, it would be like a super narrow tube with hardly any space inside. This way, you'll even be able to see us and the rest of the room."

That's good. More space. More freedom. And he'll be able to see her- them, see them.

Shuri clapped. "Alright! Shall we get started then?"

He had no idea how any of this worked; he was way out of his element here. He just barely learned what a damn MRI was, and had to hide his shock when he found out. Medicine has changed dramatically since 1945. Although it is helpful, he is completely clueless. Great.

"Do I jus-just lay on the table?" He asked, unsure.

"Yep! Just lie there and be absolutely still, and I'll do the rest," Shuri replied, reassuringly as she walked around to a control panel next to the machine, preparing to start.

Bucky took his place on the thin metal table, and he thought he was seeing things. Was it was levitating? Honestly, from what he's seen so far he wouldn't even be surprised. He stared up at the ceiling, getting lost in thought. A string of various questions and uncertainties fluttered through his battered mind.

Would the metal arm interfere with the magnet- oh. Right. No arm. Just a scan, no need to worry. (Y/N) said it would be fine. Can I even trust her Then again, can I even trust anyone yet? She's the best I got right now. Damn it, I wish I wasn't so wary of everyone.

"Hey," a gentle voice pulled him out.

He looked over to the left of him, the side with no arm. (Y/N).

"I can practically hear your brain whirring around right now - which is justified - but do you need anything?"

'Do you need anything?' He hadn't heard that phrase in a while.

He adjusted his body on the table. "I'm alright, just... a bit out of my element here."

She nodded, knowingly. "Honestly, me too. This lab looks like somethin' out of a sci-fi movie for me, so I can't imagine what it must feel like to you."

She was looking down at him. He felt vulnerable, exposed. It seemed like she noticed.

"Here, I have an idea."

With that, she turned and grabbed something from a nearby table. Rotating around to face him again, she displayed what she had taken: a pair of headphones... but without a wire? What the hell?

"Are they broken?" he asked, feeling perpetually confused.

"No, they're wirelessly connected to my phone. It's called bluetooth."

The look on his face was almost laughable.

"Bluetooth? What kind of name is Bluetooth?"

"The kind of name that I didn't invent nor should I be blamed for," she chuckled. "Do you want to listen to music while you're in there? It might help to keep you down on Earth with us."

Music. The thought was almost surreal. He hadn't been privileged with such a pleasure in longer than he'd care to admit. It actually seemed... nice.

"Y-yeah," he said, pondering. "That'd actually be nice."

"Awesome."

She leaned over him to put the headphones on his ears, causing him a very conflicting series of emotions.

First of all, close. She was very close to his face. His face, his eyes, his nose, his lips. It almost seemed a tad bit intimate. And then he realized he hadn't been this close to a woman in forever. A real woman, not some fellow assassin he had to take out. He hoped the shy embarrassment he felt didn't show on his cheeks.

Second of all, she was wrapping something around his head, his brain. He tried not to, but he couldn't stop the muscle memory of what he'd been conditioned to feel. Hydra's machine would wrap around his head and rip his psyche apart. His mind expected pain, the worst pain, the dehumanizing, out of body, mind splitting pain. He hoped the way he flinched ever so slightly didn't offend (Y/N).

She didn't seem offended, and her voice was soft. "You're good. Just music and a scan. Then you're done."

He looked up at her face, reassuring and calm. He took a deep breath.

"Good?" she asked.

He nodded. "Think so."

"If it's too much at any point just let us know, and we'll pull you right out. It's your comfort level, your choice."

His choice. Choice. Control. The prospect gave him comfort.

She gave him one last look before stepping away and signaling Shuri to start the machine. The seemingly levitating table began a smooth descent into the machine when the music started playing. It almost startled him, but he then he was pleasantly surprised by what he heard.

There were loud drums, guitar riffs with attitude, and voices that had so much emotion they were almost screaming. It was like no music he had ever heard before, and he loved it. In fact, he was so into it that he didn't even notice when the MRI had finished. That is, until he felt a feather light hand on his shoulder. His eyes opened, and (Y/N) had the biggest grin on her face. While taking the headphones off of him, she looked very pleased with herself.

She looked at Shuri but declared to no one in particular, "Bucky likes Rock and Roll!"

- - -

* = from wikipedia

** = from wikipedia

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky headcanon #marvel #steve rogers #bucky blurb #bucky drabble #bucky fic #bucky imagine #bucky reader insert #avengers #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

[snarkwrites]

13 | gangsta ; sweetpea

NOTES:

It's been a while. I've had these two chapters written for a while now but I haven't had time to sit down, edit them a little better and post them. Since I have time now, I thought I'd go ahead and do that, whether you guys asked for these next two chapters or not.

Sorry this took forever! Sorry I'm so slow, I've been settling into a new house and taking care of some IRL stuff / taking a little break. I swear, I'm going to update everything sooner or later. >.>

I love you guys.

WARNINGS:

NON/ LOOSE CANON COMPLIANCE - this is the biggest warning, so if you’re into things that follow exact canon plot you are… definitely not going to like this. ANGST & SLOW BURN, HEAVY SEXUAL TENSIONSTARTING NOW, ACTUALLY - this is just so everyone who started reading this thinking the smut would transpire in a hurry knows that apparently, it is not. VIOLENCE / SWEARING & FIGHTING, POSSIBLE UNDERAGE DRINKING AND OTHER SHENANIGANS- look.. it’s high school. shit happens. also apparently, my ofc Alyssa uses the word fuck like all the time?…EVENTUAL SEXUAL CONTENT / A VIRGIN ORIGINAL CHARACTER- this one is self explanatory. yes, i plan to write a smutty chapter in this at some point. when? i don’t rightly know. it’s got a while before we get there. STALKER TW - this chapter marks the true appearance of Alyssa's ex, Dave Novak. It's hinted heavily that he's a gross asshole who likes to play mind games. ATTEMPTED KIDNAPPING TW - This chapter contains an attempted kidnapping. If this is gonna bother you you're best off not reading it.

If you're under 18+, probably not a good or wise idea to continue reading this series. Because there are going to be a few dark and adult themes within. I'll warn here, of course, but you need to understand that I don't control you. If you continue to read after having read the warnings and you're upset or don't like something... Totally on you, friend.

PAIRING:

Andrews!Sibling OFC x Sweet Pea.

TAGGING:

@brithedemonspawn is the only person on my Riverdale tag list. If you want to be added, the link to do so is below.

OTHER PARTS:

ONE - TWO - THREE - FOUR - FIVE - SIX - SEVEN - EIGHT - NINE - TEN- ELEVEN - TWELVE - soundtrack

OTHER STUFF:

[ about my writing - tag list doc ]

THIRTEEN.

[773 - 589 - 7956] Quiet sleepy little town you’ve got here. I can see the appeal, scarlet.

[773 - 589 - 7956] I saw you last night. If I didn’t know what a treacherous bitch you were, I’d say you look more beautiful than ever.

[773 - 589 - 7956] Have you shown that new boytoy of yours all the dirty little photos you were sending me? I bet he’d fucking love to see that… Or did you actually let him see the real thing?

[773 - 589 - 7956] You can say what you want to the cops, scarlet. You and I both know you enjoyed sending me those dirty little pictures. Do your parents know what a teasing whore their daughter really is? I know mommy wasn’t too thrilled when you went running to her to snitch just because things got a little too real for you…

[773 - 589 - 7956] I’ll see you soon. It’s like I said, scarlet. You owe me. I intend to collect. You think this is a game? You can just promise things and then betray me like that? That’s not how this works, scarlet.

The second my phone was powered on again after school, it immediately started to go insane. The texts came in a flood. They were so disgusting and scary that I dropped my phone because my hands were shaking so hard I couldn’t hold it. I quickly picked up the phone and took a few deep breaths, attempting to pull myself together.

,, I can’t keep this to myself. I have to tell someone what’s going on.” the thought nagged at me for the thousandth time in two weeks and I decided that as soon as I finished my tutoring session for the day, I was going to go to the construction site and show my father the texts. Tell him that somehow, Dave was out of prison and apparently, he was here in Riverdale.

My stomach was churning and a bitter taste filled my mouth at the thought. I felt like a dead girl walking. How could I have been so fucking stupid? I should’ve told my father the first time Dave texted me. I should’ve done something.

I felt anger at the situation too. I came here to get away from everything, to put it behind me. I just wanted to forget any of it happened. How dare he show up and ruin everything? He was supposed to be in jail right now, not walking free!

It wasn’t fair.

I knew I’d never be brave enough, but I found myself thinking that if I did see him again, I wanted to strangle him. To give him a reason to be afraid of me for once instead of the other way around. To get even for the hell he put me through in Chicago.

I stepped out into the parking lot, taking a few deep breaths to calm down. Leaning against the brick wall beside the doors that lead into the building. Waiting. Trying to pull myself together. Half hoping that my brother was still here, still in wrestling practice.

Then I remembered that he didn’t have it tonight and that he’d left earlier with Veronica, Betty and Jughead.

Cheryl and Toni were already gone too. I’d stayed over because I was tutoring some kids in the grade below me. I didn’t think it’d take as long as it did. When I realized just how late it had gotten and that I’d be walking home alone in the dark, I’d panicked.

I could always call my dad.

That’s what I wound up doing. About halfway across the parking lot and just as my father’s phone went to voicemail , Dave stepped out and grabbed me, clamping his hand over my mouth before I could do anything other than scream.

My phone fell out of my hands and hit the pavement . I fought him off, managed to get out of his grasp and took off at a run. He caught up to me and grabbed me, trying to drag me towards his Chevelle that was parked nearby, idling. I fought tooth and nail, making as much noise as I could. Grabbing hold of anything I could to try and wrench myself free from his grasp.

I spotted Sweet Pea walking towards the school and I screamed louder. Fought harder.

“Sweet Pea!” I screamed his name, biting at any exposed skin I could get my mouth on Dave’s body. Clawing and scratching. Determined not to go quietly or without a fight. Sweet Pea disappeared from sight for a few seconds in the scuffle between Dave and I, and I was fighting so hard that Dave was struggling to keep a good firm grip on me…

XXX

He’d come back to school because normally, Alyssa was done and at Pop’s within thirty minutes, an hour tops. It had almost been two. Something felt off. Sweet Pea tried to tell himself the entire walk across town to Riverdale High that he was just being paranoid or overprotective. By the time the school was in view, he almost had himself convinced that he was just being a paranoid idiot.

Until he heard her screaming.

Sweet Pea took off at a run in the direction her scream came from, watching as a guy grabbed Alyssa and started trying to pull her towards an idling Chevelle nearby. He locked eyes with Alyssa before slipping out of sight. Getting himself into a position where he could slip up on the guy from behind and hopefully, distract him enough that Alyssa could get away.

The second she managed to smash her head into the guy’s nose hard enough that he dropped her, Sweet Pea spoke up. Firmly. “Run, Cherry. Don’t stop running.”

“No.” I stubbornly refused to leave. I wasn’t going to leave him to fight Dave off on his own. Not when this was my mess to begin with, my own stupidity coming back to bite me in my ass.

“Damn it, woman. Fucking go!” Sweet Pea practically growled as he lunged for the guy in front of him, spearing him against the side of his own car. The fight took to the ground, the two rolling around. For a second or two, Dave had the upper hand because he managed to get his hand on Sweet Pea’s throat. Sweet Pea used his legs, flipping them so that he was on top, swinging his fists with no real thought other than the sheer rage he felt about the guy trying to grab Alyssa. Dave managed to get the upper hand again, holding Sweet Pea against the concrete, Sweet Pea’s hand wrapped around his throat as he tried to squeeze harder.

Sweet Pea swore in frustration when he saw Alyssa slipping over to the open rear door. She emerged with a baseball bat, making her way over to the fight.

“What the fuck do you think you were gonna do, man?” Sweet Pea snarled in anger as he got in a few hard and fast punches.

“I was gonna get my hands on that little bitch you call a girlfriend and teach her a lesson.” Dave grunted out the words as Sweet Pea’s hand closed around his throat tighter and he managed to get Dave on his back again.

“The only one who’s going to learn a lesson tonight is you, asshole. Don’t fucking touch her.” Sweet Pea got the upper hand again, holding Dave against the concrete, smashing his head against Dave’s head as he sneered, “I’m gonna fuckin kill you, putting your hands on my girl.” and really tightened his grip.

Dave managed to shove him off and stood, the two of them fighting. Alyssa swung the bat at Dave’s lower back, almost connecting with it but Dave stepped out of the way at the last minute, making a grab for her.

“Cherry, I told you to run, damn it!” Sweet Pea growled as he lunged at Dave, sending Alyssa stumbling back, barely managing to keep herself from falling on her butt on the pavement. The two were rolling around on the ground again, punching and choking wildly and Alyssa spotted her cell phone and she dove for it, dialing 911.

Just as she was about to hit call, Sweet Pea choked Dave out and grabbed for the rope that had fallen out of Dave’s jacket pocket, tying his arms together while he was down. Then he rushed over to her, checking her over in concern, wincing at the pavement burn on her cheeks and the few scrapes.

“What the fuck happened to run, huh?” Sweet Pea asked, trying to catch his breath.

“I wasn’t leaving you here with him.” Alyssa panted. Sweet Pea took her cell phone and hit call, keeping his foot on Dave’s head to keep him down as he made the call.

Two minutes later, a cop car came racing around the corner and pulled to a stop behind the idling Chevelle.

The cop got out and wandered over. Glancing from Sweet Pea to Dave.

Alyssa spoke up.

“Sweet Pea was trying to save me, officer.”

“I’m going to need you two to come to the station and make statements.” the cop informed them after getting Dave into the back of the cop car. Alyssa nodded, hugging herself against Sweet Pea’s side. Sweet Pea slipped out of his leather jacket,draping it around her, because at some point during her fight with Dave, her shirt had gotten torn down the front.

The cop left, leaving the two of them alone.

Sweet Pea took a few deep breaths, pulling her against him. Squeezing her tight. Holding her in place. “Thank God I decided to come by here. If something would’ve happened…” he muttered against her hair quietly.

She pulled away to look up at him and he locked eyes with her, leaning in closer…

XXX

My heart was still hammering away at my chest. The adrenaline was starting to wear off and I was starting to panic a little as I began to realize what almost happened to me. How close I came to disappearing, having God knows what would be done to me by Dave.

I wasn’t thinking about how awkward me kissing him would be. I wasn’t thinking about anything if you want the truth. I rose up on my toes, grabbing hold of the front of Sweet Pea’s t-shirt, pulling myself up. My mouth brushed against the corner of his gingerly, trying to avoid the portion of his lower lip that was busted and bloody because it had to hurt like hell. His hands dug into my hips and he growled quietly, his mouth latching onto mine just as I went to pull away, stop myself before I went for it and kissed him in the heat of the moment.

The kiss deepened and I raised my arms, wrapping them around his neck. Dragging my fingers through his hair. My back met the side of the Chevelle with a soft smack and he pressed himself into me more firmly. His mouth continuing to hungrily devour mine.

The kiss broke a few seconds later, we pulled apart breathlessly and stared at one another in a daze. Sweet Pea wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and cleared his throat. Going quiet again.

All I could do was melt into him and try to wrap my head around what almost happened and what had just actually happened. He curled his fingers under my chin, tilting my face so that I had to look up at him.

“Who was that? Wait.. was that your ex?”

My jaw dropped. I blinked at him and then I nodded quietly. He swore under his breath and held on a little tighter. Pulling away again, his hands on my upper arms as he stared down at me. “I should’ve fucking killed him.”

“H-how’d you know about Dave? Did my brother tell you?”

“And Jughead. I don’t know everything. I just know that I told myself if I ever actually saw the asshole, I was going to kill him.” Sweet Pea answered quietly. Taking a few deep breaths and then adding a few seconds later, “We need to get to the station.”

I nodded in agreement. Sweet Pea scooped me up when he saw me take a step and wince, then try it again with the same outcome.

“I can walk.” I protested weakly.

“You fell. You probably twisted your ankle. Just… let me carry you, Cherry.” he muttered quietly, his voice a soft and concerned whisper as he gazed down at me.

All I could do was nod. Lean my head against the space between his neck and shoulder.

As we worked our way towards the police station, it poured out of me. Every single thing I’d gone through with Dave in Chicago. I grimaced as I told Sweet Pea exactly what had gone down and why I thought Dave had come to town and tried to grab me tonight and Sweet Pea’s jaw set firm.

I could tell that hearing it bothered him. And at one point, he muttered quietly, “If you don’t want to talk about it you don’t have to…”

“No, I need to get it out. I shouldn’t have kept the fact that the asshole was texting me to myself. Blocking his number obviously didn’t work because he reached out with a new one. I thought if I just ignored him, he’d lose interest. I thought it was just him, trying to scare me. I didn’t think he’d be stupid or brave enough to show up here.” I muttered, shaking my head at how stupid that sounded now that I was really stopping to think about it.

“He’s not gonna bother you again, okay? I’m going to make sure he doesn’t.” Sweet Pea muttered after a few seconds, just as we stepped into the station and made our way over to a sitting area to wait.

“You need to call your dad.” Sweet Pea spoke up after a few seconds that felt like hours.

I nodded. Taking my phone back from Sweet Pea, I dialed my dad’s number and I could hear the relief in his voice when he answered.

Static crackled and popped on his end of the line so I strained to hear.

“I’ve been riding around town looking for you for over an hour, tiny. What the hell happened?” my dad asked in a rush.

“Dave was waiting outside of the school tonight when I came out… If Sweet Pea hadn’t gotten there when he did I… he tried to grab me tonight, Dad.” I grimaced as I said it, bracing myself for all the questions and the lecture I knew I’d be getting because I hadn’t told anyone the second all this started.

,, to be fair, I definitely deserve it.” the thought came and I let myself have it. Leaning back in the chair, resting against Sweet Pea’s side slightly. Taking a few deep breaths.

My dad swore and I heard him punching at something, probably the dashboard of his truck. After a second or two, he spoke up. “Where are you two? I’m on my way, tiny. Right now.”

“We’re at the station giving a statement.” I explained.

“Thank god. So Novak got arrested? That’s good. I’m going to be sure to find out what I can do to make sure that little prick stays in a cell this time.” my dad responded as I heard him rev the engine on his truck.

The call ended and I leaned my head against Sweet Pea’s shoulder. He slipped an arm around me and took a few more breaths as if he were trying to calm himself down again because he was still angry and tense.

The cop who made the arrest found us and ushered us back to his workspace and we sat down. Telling the cop every single detail of what happened tonight. The cop let me finish and then spoke up.

“We’re holding him for Chicago. He apparently escaped. Attacked another girl… A Claire Watson… Then he came here. But everything you’ve told me will help keep him behind bars, Alyssa. Do you have a parent you can call?”

I nodded.

“She already called him.” Sweet Pea answered calmly as he folded his arms over his chest and glared at the cop suspiciously.

The cop eyed him, nodding. Managing a cordial smile. “That was quick thinking on your part tonight kid. Also stupid as hell. If he’d had a weapon, that could’ve gone wrong. Next time, call the station.”

“And do what? Let an asshole make off with my girl? Yeah, no thanks. I’m good. I’ve seen how fast you assholes respond to any call you get from the South side.”

“Not all of us are bad, kid.” the cop pointed out in a calm and even tone.

“Yeah, well… I wasn’t going to stand there and let him take my girl either. I did what I had to do.” Sweet Pea took a deep breath, rubbing his forehead. Calming himself back down.

I spotted my father and Archie coming into the station, heading right for us and I let out a ragged breath. Squeezing my dad so tight he almost couldn’t breathe when they got over to where we were sitting in the back.

My father spoke up, addressing the cop. “We will be pressing charges. So, whatever I need in order to do that, just tell me and you’ve got it.”

Sweet Pea cleared his throat.

“If it helps, here’s her phone.” Sweet Pea held my phone out to the policeman and he took it, nodding. “If there’s anything on here, that’ll help. If you’ll come with me, Mr. Andrews, we’ll get that paperwork drawn up to start the proceedings.”

My dad gave me another hug and stopped in front of Sweet Pea. “If you hadn’t been there tonight, kid… Thank you.”

“I wasn’t gonna let anything happen to her, sir.” Sweet Pea muttered, awkwardly letting my dad hug him too.

My dad made his way to an office with the policeman who’d taken our statements and I glanced up at Sweet Pea, grimacing at the bruises and scraped starting to form on his face and neck. The black eye and the busted lip.

“Archie, can you go get some ice or a soda can? His lips really swelling up..” I muttered. My brother nodded, taking some change from me to go do it. And this left Sweet Pea and I alone again.

“About that kiss.. I’m sorry, I.. the last thing I wanted to do was make anything awkward. I just got caught up in the moment and I can’t keep fighting the way I feel and I… Sorry.” I spoke up quietly. Prepared to give him an out. Afraid that I’d gone way over the line.

“Yeah, about that… I’ve been wanting to do it for a while.” Sweet Pea admitted quietly. Making me look up at him as he chuckled quietly. “You wanna repeat any of what you just said?”

I felt my cheeks burning. I pouted up at him and gave him a dirty look.

He smirked in response and spoke up. “I’m being serious. You were doing that mumble and babbling thing again.”

“You heard me.” I answered, biting my lip as I looked up at him.

“A little, yeah… But maybe I wanna hear it again, cherry.” he pulled me close and gazed down at me for a few seconds.

“Wait.. you wanted to kiss me?” I realized what he’d admitted. Gazing up at him, a little shocked.

“You’re trying to change the subject now?” he questioned, slipping his arms around me. I gave a soft laugh and muttered quietly, “Maybe a little.”

“When you say you can’t ignore the way you feel.. What’s that mean?” he questioned again, making me look up at him. I took a deep breath and toyed with the front of his shirt, trying to figure out the best way to put it to words.

The truth. Simple and direct.

“I care about you a lot. I lo--” I started to say that I loved him, but Archie cleared his throat behind us, holding out the soda can to me. Then promptly excusing himself again to go find our dad. I gently guided Sweet Pea down into a chair and sank down to sit on his knees. Gingerly pressing the cold soda can against his lip. And after a second or two, I finally got myself to say it again. “I love you, okay?”

He chuckled quietly. Locking eyes with me. Lowering the soda can to ask quietly, “Like a best friend or something.. Right?”

I shook my head. “More than, actually. Since that day at the car wash when I drenched you with the hose, I’ve… It’s been hard to make myself not look for you in a crowd. Yes, yes.. I know this is mushy and you don’t do mushy, I..” his mouth crashing against mine cut off the flow of my words and he muttered in a daze, “Say it again. Tell me you love me, Cherry.”

“I love you.” I managed to get the words out breathlessly. His mouth was latching onto mine all over again. The kiss deepening. His arms enveloping me tighter. Squeezing til I thought I’d get lightheaded between the deep and heavy onslaught of kisses and the way he was holding me.

“I love you too.” he mumbled quietly. Gazing down at me. Panting for his next breath as the kiss broke yet again.

“Okay, are you two done with whatever yet? Because dad told me to get Al back home. You can come with us if you want.” Archie surprised me by inviting Sweet Pea. Sweet Pea eyed him and nodded, standing after I’d finally managed to pry myself away from him.

As we walked out of the station, he slipped his hand down between us, lacing his fingers between mine. Giving my hand a squeeze as he glanced down at me.

#sweetpea fanfiction #sweetpea imagine #sweetpea fanfic #sweetpea imagines #sweetpea fic #my writing; sweetpea #my fanfiction; sweetpea #my fics; sweetpea #// stalker tw #// attempted kidnapping tw #// violence tw

[mandelene]

Sorry to be a bother, but I hope it's fine if I ask a few questions. With real life, how do you manage to write fanfiction? What I mean is where do you find the time and motivation? I've never finished even a one-shot because motivation is rare, and even when it's there, I lose it in the middle of writing because I find my writing so... lacking. You've been writing fanfiction for years now, did you experience the same issues when you were starting out and how did you deal with it?

Please don’t apologize, anon! It’s never a bother – I promise! :D I’m always happy to receive questions, and these are fantastic questions because this is an issue I still struggle with and I think all writers can relate. 

I think the first step to getting over writer’s block is to accept two big things: 1) that sometimes you’re going to have to write even when you’re not motivated if you want to get things done, and 2) writer’s block is usually caused by our need for perfectionism – you have to accept that the story is never going to be exactly how you imagined. And usually, what you initially think is terrible writing isn’t actually bad after you let it sit for a day or two. A lack of motivation is something I struggle with 85% of the time when writing. Sometimes you’ll have the motivation to write one scene and not the others, and that’s totally normal. But if you want to have a finished piece, you have to plow forward and just will your way through it. Tbh, it was less of a problem when I was first starting out because I was less critical of myself and wasn’t really sure what I was doing half the time lol. As I got more into writing and had a better grasp of story elements, I found it harder and harder to find motivation because I set higher standards for myself. 

Also, my personal life is far busier than it was when I first started writing fanfiction, and so, I can’t really wait for inspiration to strike – I just have to go for it. For example, if I know I’m going to have two hours of free time in the evening, I’ll set that time aside to write and make myself sit in front of my computer for 2 hours in front of the Word/Google doc. Whether I write 300 or 3000 words in those 2 hours isn’t important, but I make myself stay there for the full time. I get rid of all distractions (put my phone aside and turn off wifi on my laptop unless I need to research something).

So I think the best advice I can give you is to just make writing a priority. Schedule time for it and hold yourself accountable. I’ve found that even when I’m not motivated, once I get a few paragraphs in, I’ll find some momentum and keep going. Some of it is honestly discipline. As an aspiring journalist, my editor isn’t going to care whether I felt motivated or not to finish an article by my deadline. xD I just have to make it happen whether I like it or not. Ideally, you don’t want things to be this way every single time you write – and sometimes it’s good to just walk away from a piece for a bit and then come back, but don’t wait forever to get back to it either. 

I hope that helps a little. :) I wish I had an easier solution tbh. If anyone has a magic pill for writer’s block, I’ll gladly take it lol. Happy writing and best of luck! Don’t give up! I believe in you! :D

#writing #writing tips #writer's block #motivation #inspiration #writer problems