#she got mad as fuck at me and shes now holding a grudge against me like 😭 you can stay ignorant if you want

[robotpussy]

yea we are never making progress ever the more people I talk to about unions and striking the more I keep hearing the same excuse of "they're selfish, they should just find another job if it's not paying them well/the conditions are bad" because last night my cousin called the people that work for national rail and other train services doing a walk off/striking are selfish for doing so and when I tried to explain to her that no act of striking the workplace is selfish when this is done to change the workplace for EVERYBODY not just those striking she started saying I'm doing too much over a "fake scenario" because she said would never strike when I wasn't even addressing that I felt like I was in a twitter arguement but in real life because at this point it's willful ignorance if you try to flip over the tables and say what I'm fighting for isn't even real when you just said people that strike are selfish....

#shes one of those ppl that nobody can ever tell them they're wrong so when the one time everybody else was like #you're wrong striking isnt a personal thing ppl do it so they can eat and not be at risk of losing their homes due greedy ceos #she got mad as fuck at me and shes now holding a grudge against me like 😭 you can stay ignorant if you want #but just know the rights you have now at your job were there because people unionised. those ' #'selfish' people are the reason why you are able to even have breaks at work #this happened when a film and tv union came to my uni and somebody said it felt like a cult.... fighting for better #environments in the film industry is cultish? we are DOOMED.

[demadogs]

i never post tiktoks anymore and i have a big following bc i made videos of my cats like talking to each other with the text to speech thing and i hyped up that id be home for summer to post but i havent been creative so ive barely made any and i feel guilty like im depriving 600k people of wholesome cat content but i cant get myself to make one

#i also was gonna make merch when i was at my Peak but then i never went through with it and i always feel so guilty for not bc i worked with #an artist and everything and she was great #she still got paid but i feel like i didnt do my part but now im not even posting so they wouldnt even sell much #this is the epitome of first world problems but like yea #mot much other than fictional universes make me super happy #that and the sky. and music. and still photography but not like it used to #i used to do photography way more id go out with my dad and take pics but i dont really wanna spend time with my dad but i cant drive #i still hold a grudge against him for being mad at me for posting a happy pride video on my tiktok last year #that was the biggest fight ive ever had with anyone he thought that i wouldnt be hired anywhere if i had a gay pride video on tiktok #bc my tiktoks on my fucking resume bc im in the ONE major where having a big social media following is actually pretty beneficial #and he was like ‘now you wont get internships!!’ blah blah and we were in the car and i was fucking screaming at him i hated him so much #and he doesnt know it cuz i pretend but ive never let that go #so i dont want him to drive me to places so i can take more photos #plz like this if you read all that i just need to know

[its-time-to-write]

i hold it like a grudge - ch. 5

I don’t know why this fic wrecked me so much. I’m literally the author. I know what’s gonna happen. I decided what’s gonna happen. Maybe I’m just tired. also does anyone remember that time I said I hated writing chaptered fics and swearing that each one was an anomaly/the last time I’d ever do it?

table of contents you’re still everything to me

Jamie Tartt is in your kitchen, puttering around so he can make a pot of tea and with an eyebrow slit like it’s 2013 again.

He sent you to go change so you slip on sweatpants and curl up on the sofa.

“Here you are, love,” he says, setting the tea down on the coffee table. He sits on the opposite end of the sofa, a respectable distance away.

“Why didn’t I see you?” you ask, staring out the window. The room is illuminated by the streetlight glow from the kitchen.

“How d’you mean?” responds.

“I visited mum last year. I was there all day. Why didn’t I see you?”

Jamie pauses. “I went early.”

“No, no you didn’t. There weren’t any flowers when I got there, and you said you brought her flowers.”

He’s quiet long enough for you to turn and check if he’s even still in the room.

He is.

“I… saw you,” he says eventually. “Didn’t think we’d be there at the same time, but-” he raises an eyebrow as punctuation. “Anyway, I was behind a tree. Saw you sit down and at first I thought I’d just wait in the car, but you started crying and- and I didn’t know if I should say somethin’ or leave. Did neither, so I just stayed. Placed the flowers and paid my respects once you left.”

You sip your tea in silence.

After a long time you say, “I’m glad you didn’t say anything.”

“She always believed in me,” he says by way of reply. “Even when I was being a little shit, she still made me feel like she wanted me around. Three people I want to make proud the most were her, mummy, and you.”

“Wanted,” you correct. “Wanted to make proud. Mum’s gone, and we’re not even friends.”

“D’you think we ever could be?”

You consider. There’s a part of you that feels like you’re friends already. He’s in your flat for fuck’s sake. 

“I don’t know,” you say. “Honestly I don’t. I’ve only ever loved you, Jamie, and for a long time I couldn’t see the future without you. I still can’t see it, I’m just living day-by-day sometimes.”

He chews his lip. “How can I make it up to you?”

He’s asking all the hard questions tonight.

“I don’t hate you anymore,” you say frankly. “You were there for me when I needed you, and you leaving me was the worst. But it turned out good. And, I dunno, over the last few days I just keep wondering what’s gonna stop you from leaving again? Deciding you want someone else more, or my value means less?”

“Maturity.” He says it slightly drawn out, enunciating the consonants. He has a hint of a smile, which is stupid, because now you have one too.

“Seriously, though, I’m not like that anymore. Went of, was a prick, and it were shit. I’ve never heard mum that mad at me, Jesus Christ. Swore my ear off, she did. Didn’t have real friends, wasn’t happy, drank a lot of vanilla vodka. Keeley broke up with me for cheating on her, too, but not with sex, like; just on a date. Said shit about accountability.” 

He says it the same way he said maturity. 

“Hm,” you say. What else is there to say, really?

“Hm,” you say again as you reach to set your tea down and move to the other end of the couch so you’re pressed up against Jamie’s side.

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close.

“Stay the night?” you whisper. “I don’t want to be alone and I have a guest bed.” 

Jamie nods.

—

It’s 3am, and you wake up with the sound of your mum saying your name still echoing in your room. You’d been dreaming, showing her the life you’d created and she’d smiled the whole time. She wasn’t wispy, she was the same mum who kicked a football with Jamie, sang horribly off-key with Simon, and convinced Georgie to even give him a chance in the first place. 

Tears pool in the corner of your eye.

I am not drowning. I can do this.

There’s a light tap on the door. “Come in,” you croak.

Jamie pushes it open and sticks his head in. “You’re crying,” he states. “Woke up a minute ago feeling shitty.”

You pat the bed and roll over.

Jamie climbs in under the covers and reaches tentatively for your hand. You let him take it.

“Just because I’m emotionally fragile does not mean that I forgive you,” you tell him tearfully. “I’m just pretending you never left and everything’s fine so I’m not going to hate myself for letting you into my room and letting you see me cry.”

“Alright,” he whispers. “C’mere. We’ll forget about it in the morning.”

You both move closer under the covers. You blame sleep and grief for the kiss you press to his clavicle, and you’re sure you’re dreaming they way he murmured, “How the fuck did I ever leave you?”

—

Jamie is true to his word. He doesn’t say a word when you wake up, just extricates himself from your hold and goes downstairs.

“I’ll be here for today,” he tells you once you drag yourself out of bed. “After that, you can decide how you feel about me. You don’t have to think about it today.”

It’s a four-hour drive to Manchester, and you’re not sure when it was decided that a) Jamie was coming with you, or b) that he’d be the one driving. He stops to pick up breakfast and coffee and doesn’t say a word about eating in his fancy car. You stare out the window and let the music playing over the speakers flow over you. It’s still raining, less than last night but still heavily. 

You grip Jamie’s hand with white knuckles and cry, truly cry in a way you only allow once a year but this time, there’s a new component.

I could’ve had this, you think. You and Jamie, together.

Something new tugs at your chest and you turn to look at Jamie. Tears have gathered in the corners of his eyes, and he’s sniffling a but, trying not to let it show. 

You readjust in your seat so you’re leaning against his arm, and he tilts his head to rest on yours for a fraction of a moment. 

—

Your mum’s place is the same as it always is. Her name, printed in rounded letters. The dates, signifying that she did not spend enough time here. You place down your blanket and sit, back against the headstone as usual with your head tilted up to the sky. Jamie stands a good distance away, just watching with his hands shoved in his pockets. 

“Hi mum,” you begin, voice cracking. “Um, I’m sorry I don’t get up here much. But that’s what kids do, right? Leave the nest and only visit on holidays. 

Things are going well still. I’ve gotten offers for collabs with some brands, so I guess that’s cool. Jamie’s here, he’s by the tree though. I don’t- I don’t know what to do about it, mum. I wish you were here. You always saw things clearer than any of us, and I just don’t know. Turns out I didn’t ever stop loving him. Keeley thinks we have this weird cosmic connection or something. Do you believe in that? I think you might have. 

I- I think we’re going to see Georgie and Simon after this. I don’t really know. I haven’t been thinking straight today, you know. I just miss you.  I want to hug you again and I promise I’m okay on my own, it’s just hard sometimes. I thought- I thought-”

You’re unable to get the rest of the words out. It’s fucking sunny out and it feels wrong, like the world should remember this is a day to mourn a soul who should’ve been around longer. The sky should at least have the decency to cry along with you. 

A hand touches your face to wipe away a tear. You wrap your arms around Jamie’s neck and he just holds you for a minute, an hour, a year. Time might be passing but you’re unaware of it. He’s whispering in your ear, saying, “I’ve got you, it’s alright love, take as much time as you need,” but it’s only sounds to you. Sweet sounds, but not comprehensible words. 

It’s safe, here. It shouldn’t be, here on your mother’s grave with your cheating ex-boyfriend in your arms, but it doesn’t feel like that. 

It feels more like you’ve finally arrived home after years of travel. 

Jamie feels the same as he did before he made it to the Premier League, back when he’d nick flowers from a garden and climb through your window late at night, not like the prideful boy who broke your heart in five minutes over the phone. 

“I’m here as long as you need,” he murmurs, and you believe him. 

You pull away slightly to look him in the face. “I love you,” you say. 

He smiles, but only with his eyes as he swipes a thumb under your eye. “I love you too,” he says. “Don’t think I ever really stopped.”

It’s at that exact moment that the sun disappears behind a cloud and it begins to rain. 

table of contents

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

[frozenjokes]

Something Somber, But I Hope At Least I Can Do My Best To Help You

there are guns in this fic, this is the warning for that. she’s (the fic) is a tad angsty

“I’m going to kill you now.”

Grian stood in the shallow water, holding some sort of human device in his hands. He was alone today, but it was possible Scar was just recovering from his injuries at home. That would make sense. However, Mumbo did find it a little odd that Grian hadn’t brought much of his stuff, the bag left in the grass looking deflated in comparison to how full it usually was. Grian wasn’t moving very much, very stiff as he pointed whatever he was holding at Mumbo’s face. He looked.. a little upset? It didn’t really look like he wanted Mumbo to have it, he was holding it so tightly, but Mumbo was getting a little confused about what exactly the purpose of this was.

Mumbo leaned a little closer to sniff, but Grian winced, taking a couple steps back. Well. Guess that answers that. Mumbo’s fins rose and fell on his back and head, twitching with annoyance. Why did Grian call him over if all he wanted to do was stare?

“What,” Mumbo said, hoping Grian would at least try to explain whatever it was he was holding and why he wanted to show it off, but Grian remained stiff, lips pursed.

“You don’t get it. You don’t- I’m going to kill you, and you don’t understand. Do something. Get mad or hiss at me or lunge or something. Defend yourself.”

Ah, so he was upset. If he was trying to communicate why, he wasn’t doing a very good job. Mumbo wasn’t even sure if this was about Scar; he didn’t think so, Grian never said Scar’s name, but he wasn’t sure what else. Wait, could he still be mad about the whole bag stealing thing? That was so long ago! If that was the case, that was sufficiently a Grian problem, learn to let go of a grudge, buddy.

“What,” Mumbo asked again, hoping Grian would do a better job at explaining himself.

Grian huffed as if his own inability to be clear was Mumbo’s fault, “This is a gun. Gun,” Grian moved the device a little in his hands, but didn’t hold it any less tightly, “I am going to shoot you with it. I am going to kill you.”

Mumbo stared blankly. Alright, the thing he was holding was a ‘gun.’ Great. Was he going to show him what it did, or were they just going to sit here for another twenty minutes. Mumbo didn’t mean to be so impatient, but honestly, Grian was being stupid and Mumbo’s tail was still in quite a lot of pain, worse in the shallows.

“I can’t- you don’t get it. And you know, it’s nothing against you. It’s not. Well..” Grian paused, thinking, then shook his head, “No, it’s nothing against you, even if you stole all my shit and fucked up my ankle- I might have a limp for the rest of my life, y’know! I probably won’t. But I might! You tore through all sorts of important shit in there.”

Mumbo wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be understanding what Grian was saying, but the human didn’t look like it planned on stopping, so Mumbo let it be. Still, he kept a slightly warier eye.

“And I’m not sorry, by the way. About your tail. You deserved that as far as I’m concerned, stealing my stuff then trying to sing me into the water after I was injured- I know your game. That’s what you guys do. You kill people. At best you’re like- like a public nuisance. But you’re dangerous, I know you’re dangerous and I..” Grian trailed off, looking away, “I’m just afraid Scar doesn’t know.”

Ah. There it was. So this was about Scar.. oh, Mumbo hoped he was okay. Scar hadn’t looked like he was hurt too badly, but then again, anything could have happened. The bite could have gotten infected or was deeper than Mumbo had thought, or any other number of things. Given how upset Grian seemed to be, something must have happened.

“Scar doesn’t have a very strong sense of self preservation, he never has, and it drives just about everyone in his life up a wall. I don’t know why or what’s wrong with him or if he’s got some sort of mental health issue he isn’t addressing, but it’s always been this way and- and he just gets so focused. Like he gets an idea in his head and he literally can’t think of anything but pursuing it. And when I say literally, I mean it. He doesn’t think about anything else! I don’t even know if he can! You would not believe how much he talks about you, it’s all ‘Mumbo Mumbo Mumbo! Mumbo this, Mumbo that,’ and because we have to keep you a secret, all of this goes to me and-” Grian cut himself off, taking a second to breath.

“It’s not that I care. Scar can talk my ear off all he wants about anything he wants. Sure, it can be a little much and I get frustrated with him from time to time, but at the end of the day, he picked me, y’know? There’s a guy that can talk his way into anything he wants, who can make friends with basically anyone, and he still.. he wants to talk to me. And that’s a special thing, y’know? Scar is a special kind of guy. And it just kills me when he tries to throw his life away!” Grian kicked up sand and water as his voice rose through gritted teeth, and Mumbo jumped back, startled, though he immediately regretted the motion, hissing in a soft whine at the pain that pulsed through his tail. Grian stared at him for a long while, still pointing his ‘gun,’ but his shoulders fell.

“He’s going to be mad at me. For killing you. Doesn’t matter how many times I said I was going to or how many times I told him he couldn’t interfere if I let him come and see you. He’s going to feel bad, then I’m probably going to feel bad, and we’ll probably both feel very bad for a while, but it’ll be fine because Scar will be alive. That’s what matters, in the end. Not mermaids, not money- well, actually I won’t go that far. I’m going to sell the shit out of your body and I’ll probably be very well off for the rest of my life. I think I’m allowed to want that too! I think that’s fair.”

“And I’ll have you know, Scar’s not innocent either, he still wants you in his zoo even if he doesn’t talk about it around here anymore. As if you’d even understand. I’m telling you to your face I’m going to kill you and sell all your body parts and you couldn’t give less of a fuck. It’s impressive almost, how neutral your face is right now. You look a bit like one of those dogs from those kennel ads? All of them looking all sad with the sad music trying to make you feel sad so you go out and adopt. That’s how you look all the time. It’s the eyes. All big and dark like that. Ugh.”

Mumbo wasn’t sure what to do. Clearly this human was in some kind of distress, but the more it talked, the more he was sure he had no clue what was actually going on. Had it come looking for some sort of comfort? Why Mumbo? Out of everyone Grian knew, surely Mumbo was the least qualified by far.

Did.. he know anyone else? Humans were social animals, Mumbo knew this, but mermaids were too, and even despite this, some had trouble fitting in. Mumbo had never seen another human other than Scar hang around with Grian.. maybe while Scar was healing and resting, he just didn’t have anyone else to go to.

Well, Mumbo knew a few things about humans. They liked to talk (loudly) and yell at each other (loudly) and call each other’s names and be obnoxious to each other for fun. Though, given Mumbo did not speak human, this seemed out of the question in terms of things he could do to help.

Humans.. liked touch. Mumbo was pretty sure of that, no matter how foreign it always seemed. Scar was always touching Grian affectionately, and despite the latter never looking all too thrilled, he never really reacted negatively either, sometimes even visibly relaxing. Is.. that what Grian was looking for?

Mumbo steeled himself, less for the pain of maneuvering in shallow water and more for reaching out his hand toward the human ahead. Sure, maybe they’d had a rocky start, but Grian was clearly in distress. If Mumbo could show him that he cared, maybe Grian would understand he meant to be friendly? Even still, he found his head and body cringing back in anticipation of The Touch, though he kept his arm extended, one eye still watching anxiously.

Grian looked.. well, honestly, Mumbo couldn’t tell if he was any more or less distressed than before, but it felt a little bit different than before?

“What.” Grian said, looking rapidly from his gun to Mumbo to Mumbo’s hand, eyebrows pinched, “What is this. What are you doing.”

Ah, yeah, that made sense. This was pretty radically different behavior for Mumbo; if he was on the other side of it, he’d be wary too. Though, he didn’t quite have the words to explain himself. For a moment Mumbo considered singing, something soft and somber so Grian might understand his intentions, but given how the human reacted last time he sang.. no, that would be a bad idea.

‘Red,’ he whistled instead, “Grian.” Mumbo’s gills flared gently, frustrated. Why was this so hard. Maybe Grian was put off by how uncomfortable Mumbo looked.. maybe looking a little less like touching Grian was one of the top ten worst things that could possible happen to him would be a start.

Mumbo strained to get a little closer despite the pain, holding out both of his arms instead of just the one, palms up. He managed to open both of his eyes, though they were still pretty narrowed in the bracing anticipation of something unpleasant. He even tried to face Grian completely instead of shying away, though he couldn’t quite force himself to manage that entirely. Grian’s mouth hung open, like breathing that way might give him more information on what exactly was happening here. Unfortunately, intention was not something humans could smell.

Grian slowly, slowly lowered his gun, not letting go, but not holding so tightly either, leaving it in one hand at his side. His arms were shaking- actually, mostly of him was shaking.. Mumbo wasn’t quite sure what that meant. Likely a symptom of human distress; it didn’t seem voluntary, quite unlike the quivering of mermaid fins when they were very angry.

Mumbo snapped back to reality when Grian moved, taking a slow step forward. Then another. Then another.

‘It’s okay. This is okay. I’m sorry about Scars, and I’m sorry you’re worried. I think you’re worried. That human seems like it’s survived quite a few injuries though, I think it’ll be okay. I thought you were going to hurt each other, and even now, I’m not entirely sure you weren’t. Mermaids have thick skin. You do not. Humans are too fragile, you can’t be fighting each other like that.’

“You’ve been watching us, haven’t you. I mean, of course you have, but this is.. I guess you’ve really been paying attention. Is that what we sound like to you, just all sorts of nothing speech all day? I bet that gets annoying. I’ve never heard you talk this much. I guess your language is also pretty complex. It must be, unless you’re just repeating the same few concepts. It’s hard to tell. Are you really that intelligent? Wow, if you knew what I just said you’d probably be offended. But I just- I mean you’re just a big fish, yeah? It would be crazy to just assume you had comparable intelligence just because you kinda look like a person. But that’s what Scar thinks of course.”

‘I have no idea what you’re saying, but I’m pretty sure this is how human conversation works. You take turns talking for long periods of time and stare very uncomfortably at each other’s faces. This is a foreign concept to me, Red. Humans are extremely weird.’

“It’s funny how when you’re saying one of our names the clicking stops. Did you do that just for us? So we’d be able to say them? I just assumed some mermaid words didn’t have clicks, but you don’t stop. You don’t stop at all actually, it doesn’t even look like you breathe.”

‘Is this the appropriate time to speak. You humans don’t pause for very long before another one starts talking. My arms are getting tired, are you going to touch them and feel better or not.’

Mumbo almost thought Grian understood, because at nearly the same time Mumbo spoke, it moved forward another step, far closer than what was comfortable, though, to be fair, this entire experience was uncomfortable. Couldn’t Grian just reach out and touch Mumbo’s hands from as far away as possible? What was the point of getting this close?

“You look. Uncomfortable.” Grian cringed back, demonstrating the word and gesturing vaguely to Mumbo before his neutral expression returned. “Uncomfortable.”

Uncomfortable! How did he know? Mumbo had gone through so much effort to look friendly and inviting, he hadn’t even bared his teeth once! Mumbo took a moment to inspect himself, a few quick embarrassed clicks escaping his throat when he saw every single one of his fins across his back flared out and on end. Even the big one at the end of his tail was all spiky and sticking out of the water, goodness. Mumbo forced them all down at once, re-presenting his arms.

Grian laughed, which Mumbo was 90% sure was a happy sound, and then relaxed a little more, waving his hands in a ‘no’ gesture.

“I’m not going to touch you if you don’t want me to, Mumbo. I’m not- Do you just think that’s a human thing? Lots of animals enjoy physical contact y’know, we actually domesticated a ton of animals for the sole purpose of petting them. I have to think you guys also enjoy it, at least with each other. You’re just flighty with humans, and I’m guessing lots of other stuff in the water. Do mermaids get eaten a lot? I can not imagine that being an issue. You’re huge.”

Grian backed up a little, but not out of fear. Just.. stepping away. Mumbo dropped his arms, somewhat relieved, but a tiny part of him was also a little annoyed. Clearly there was something magic about human touch, and Mumbo was kinda starting to want to know what the fuss was about. But Grian kept its distance now, and Mumbo didn’t think he would be able to convince it to approach him again. Shame. Though, admittedly, it was nice to not have his personal bubble be so thoroughly invaded.

“Hey,” Grian said, grabbing Mumbo’s attention back, “This isn’t- I’m still going to kill you. I’m going to.” It raised its gun half heartedly, but stopped, dropping it with a huff and a little stomp of its foot. “If you hurt him. Scar. Again. If you even touch him I’m going to- I won’t hesitate. If you kill him I’m going to- I’ll be really upset. So don’t. Do that. Clear? Are we clear?”

Mumbo stared. Grian stared back.

“Are we clear? Yes or no.”

“What,” Mumbo said, deeply confused, but Grian only huffed. Mumbo flicked his tail fins with a short hiss, ‘I don’t speak your dumb language, if you want me to understand then tell me clearly.’

“Don’t sass me.”

‘I don’t like your tone.’

“Shush!” Grian drew a finger over his mouth and Mumbo copied the gesture, flicking his fins. Grian threw up his hands like he’d been mortally offended, turning immediately on his heel. Humans. So dramatic. Internally, Mumbo noted the gesture for later as something to use when the humans were being particularly annoying.

“Whatever!” Grian declared, not looking at Mumbo as he spoke, “I’m leaving!” He marched away out of the water, stomping and splashing as he left in what Mumbo was sure was a conscious effort to be as obnoxious as possible. Amused, he began his careful backpedal into deeper water, sighing contentedly. After a minute, Grian seemed to be quite offended when he looked back to see Mumbo also leaving, yelling and calling out and being a total nuisance, but Mumbo ignored him, relieved to be out of the shallows.

Scar was all kinds of odd, but Grian felt like a different beast sometimes. Scar was predictable in his weirdness, completely baffling, but consistent. Grian felt like he reacted differently to the same exact situation every time, the one exception being when he felt he was in danger, in which he would just scream. Loudly. Shrilly. Only sometimes justified.

Maybe it would just take a little more time.

Scar was easy; easy to impress, easy to speak to, and easy to watch- Mumbo would say Scar was easy to be around, but that wasn’t quite the case with his chronic lack of environmental awareness, always swinging his arms and moving erratically. But at this point Mumbo was used to it. In a way, that erraticness was predictable too; Mumbo knew to keep a little more space between the two of them because of it. But Scar was an open book, and Grian clearly wasn’t.

He was guarded like Mumbo was, and that was a good thing. Scar’s carelessness was written all over his body, and Grian had his moments of impulsive stupidity, but Mumbo didn’t worry for his life like he did for Scar’s. Briefly, he wondered if Grian worried about Scar as well.

#the last of these I have written so far #thank you for the support :) #hermitcraft #grian #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #mumbo jumbo #hermitcraft fic #do I dare tag this as grumbo #I won’t but if you see this then YOU know that’s where it’s going #tw: guns #cw: guns #mumbomaid au #hermitfic

[merowkittie]

More Jole x blackfem!reader please!!

OH BABY I GOT YOU! <3

This is based on the end of TLOU 1 and start of 2 ! (Will not be 100% accurate) sorry it’s so late 😭

Talk It Out — Joel Miller

Ever since what happened with the fireflies and Joel deciding to save Ellie instead of getting a cure, the two were never the same again.

Hell, Ellie was mad at you too, but you patched it up as best as you could. Ellie understood you were just following Joel, but she still knew you were a big part in it too.

Now, you were sitting in your shared bed with Joel between your legs and his head on your stomach. He’s been asking you for advice on how to get her to talk to him lately and he feels like shit.

“She.. she’s being fuckin’ difficult. ‘M Trying my best to talk to her or do anything and she either ignores, gives me a look or walks away.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. You’ve noticed it as well but Joel.. doesn’t have the best approach for this type of stuff. He says he “doesn’t know how to handle like this”.

“Well.. Joel, are you sure you’re being nice? What exactly are you saying to her? You know you’re kinda..” you trailed off, looking down at the man laying on your stomach.

He raised his eyebrows at you, giving you a silent go ahead.

“Scary, gruff..you know. Look baby, it’s been years but we all know Ellie can hold a grudge..” you furrowed your brows as you continued to think.

“But How do you want me to work with that? How does she expect me to talk to her again and be there for her? You saw what happened in the bar.”

Oh you definitely saw what happened in the bar. Who didn’t? You talked to Ellie about that after those events. She told you to fuck off so you left her alone. Albeit you were a little hurt but there’s nothing you can do about it. Ellie is a tough woman. She doesn’t need anyone there for her if she doesn’t want it, but being alone all the time isn’t good.

You sighed and let your head fall back against the headboard. You were drained. This whole situation was complicated. Everyone was at fault here. Maybe not Ellie completely but she could’ve just talked to the man to better understand him.

Then an idea rang through your head like the church bells you used to hear when you were younger.

“Joel, why not let her come to you? Or, better yet start to ignore her. She hates it.” You laughed at that, Joel just gave you a non amused face.

“You really think that’ll work? How’d you get her to start talking to you again?” His eyes connected with yours and you thought for a moment.

It was very very very fucking hard to speak to that girl.

“Well, I made her sit down with me and talk. I explained why we did what we did and that yes, maybe she should’ve decided that she either lived or made the cure herself but in my eyes.. she’s like a daughter to me— to us.” The way your eyes softened was a tell tale sign of how you felt for her, “She understood but she was still mad. I’m sure she still has a bit of a grudge against me but.. no way were we gonna let that precious girl die for a cure that they couldn’t even fucking promise would work.. what if we let her.. what if we let her go through with it and it didn’t work Joel? What if she did die for nothing?”

The words started to come choked out and you couldn’t help but feel distraught at the mere thought of that.

Joel’s hands caressed your sides and he leaned up to press a kiss on your jaw.

“That’s why we were not letting them Fireflies touch her. I’ll.. try to go along with what you said. Maybe she will approach me.” Joel nodded to his words and you gave him an encouraging smile.

The two of you sat in bed for a while longer as you talked Joel’s ear off about your day and how you almost cursed out his brother for trying to make you do his work for the day.

Listening to your voice was something he loved. It helped him concentrate, ground him. You always had good advice for him too.

So like you said earlier, he thought about how he was gonna go about Ellie, and decided once she came to him, they’d simply talk it out.

#Joel Miller #joel miller x reader #x black reader #Ellie Williams #joel tlou #tlou #joel x reader

[yellowcry]

Garish au, cracks moment

"What are perfect night…" Isabela muttered under her breath, taking the way out of Antonio's room. She scoffed, leaning against the wall in a dark silence.

The stars shined in a dim sky, the patio was covered in moonlight. If anyone would see her upset like this, they would tell her to get over it. For some reason, she couldn't hold a grudge after growing up. The thing is, she did. Even if it had been years, Isabela still was hurt with her Abuela. She was trying her best, but the only way for her to get attention like she did back when she was the golden child seemed to cause troubles more than it was physically possible. As in reward, Isabela kept being pissed off. In Abuela's eyes, she would never be good enough even if she had turned into some princess with royal manners by some magic force.

Deep inside Isabela understood that her behaviour didn't make her look better in Abuela's eyes. But it wasn't like she cared about it.

Something cracked. Isabela winced from the sound, staring down. A roof tile broke against the floor. This was… odd. Casita had never done anything like this in her memory. Isabela clutched the carved railings but jumped back as they started to shake in her grip as if they were about to fall to the first floor. The cracks paced all over the patio, climbing onto the walls, spreading from one lambing door to another. Light in them began to flicker like a candle on the wind. In fright, Isabela tried to summon her plants to cover the damage, maybe it would stop whatever was going on. But her vines faded like a withered grass. Shit! This was bad! Casita looked like it was about to fall onto them, burying everyone down. And no one even realized it.

Isabela burst into the party room, yelling loud enough for everyone to hear. "Casita's breaking! We have to get out!" Right now it wasn't time for her to be mad at Abuela. No matter what she felt, she didn't want anyone to get harmed or, what's even worse, die under the rubble.

The room tensed, townspeople looked at each other in panic. Abuela tightened her grip on her black shawl. "Show me."

Just in time when everyone got out in panic, the cracks were gone just like they had never been in here in the first place.

"What the fuck…" Isabela muttered in disbelief, before turning to very displeased Abuela. "I saw the cracks, the entire house was sha-"

"Enough!" Her grandmother cut her off, "The house stands strong! Just like our drinks! Music!"

Isabela didn't even bother to look at how Dolores started to play a melody on her tiple. People got back into Antonio's magical room. And only faded vines along the walls stated that something had happened at all.

#encanto #fanfic #garish au #isabela madrigal #alma madrigal

[pics-and-fanfics]

I'm sorry. I had a bad day and took offense to something you said. I didn't mean to actually hurt you, I just wanted to take out my anger on you and I guess make you feel angry too? That's why i sent that ask.

I'm 16 and I'm just having a really hard time in school and I'm scared of senior year and I was hurt really bad recently. I hope you can forgive me and forget about what I said. I'm just some dumb teenager who forgets how powerful words are I guess. I'm so sorry girl or nb or w/e you prefer. I hope you feel better by now, life is amazing and I hope you surround yourself with people who make you happy. Please go over this with your therapist.

I'm really sorry. I'll be more thoughtful next time i send people ask. I'll try and be a better person

Understandable, everyone has bad days, but maybe a better way to let out that anger would be to write it down and then rip it up or destroy it? Idk, I just isolate myself and hug my stuffed animals until I feel better tbh.

And yeah, I did get upset, but I wasn’t mad, I was just a little taken aback, maybe hurt? I get that school is hard, I’m still in high school too (it fucking sucks ass, I feel you there) and I’m terrified about the future. But I’ve got my friends and family and an awesome support system, in person and online, maybe find people that can be that for you, and vise versa?

Don’t call yourself dumb, that leads down a very dark hole that’s hard to climb out of and it forms into a very very bad habit, trust me. I’m working on that myself, but like everything, esp bad habits, it takes time and effort to fix. I still say stuff like “I’m so dumb” a bit too often, but I’m working on saying “no I’m not, I’m smart, I’m just having trouble” afterwards.

And yeah, words hurt. I’ve learned that the hard way, driving away people that I didn’t learn to appreciate until later, but I can’t apologize bc I have no idea where or even who they are now. Friends, strangers, even my niece (I’m working on not doing that with her tho, I love the little kid, she’s so awesome and smart and kind, at least when she doesn’t have her moms shitty attitude).

And I can forgive, but I will not forget. Kinda like the quote “The lumberjack forgets the pain he causes, but the tree always remembers.” I’m working on that too, trying to forgive others. I’m working on a lot about myself lately, I’m just realizing. I still hold grudges, esp against the person who sent the ask last year telling me to kill myself, but I don’t know if I have or haven’t forgiven them. I don’t know if I have or haven’t forgiven an old friend after what she pulled at my birthday 2 years ago, and I don’t know if I can. There are some things that can’t be forgiven, but this is so small, but it hurts so much still.

I forgive you, and I hope you have some better days coming, honestly.

If you want, you can keep sending asks when you have a bad day? They can stay anonymous, and I can try to help, if that’s okay with you. I can be part of your support system, if you want.

I’m working on a lot of things, and I hope maybe this can help you start working a little to be happier, less full of anger all the time?

But please, be kind to yourself, and if you can’t always be kind to others, then try to find a way to avoid them or ignore them. (I don’t know if I can do that with the boys in my math class tho, they are so loud and I got basically punched in the arm by one of them today, it hurt)

I love you, anon. Please be kind to yourself, and I’m here if you need to talk again. ❤️

You are enough. I love you.

(Also sorry I took forever to respond to your ask, but I saw this right before class, and then school basically drained all of my energy 😭 and then I had a shit load of homework I had to do, at least I get out for break tmrw thank god)

#apologies #apology #follow up #follow up ask #anonymous #anon ask #apology ask #it’s okay anon I forgive you #and i love you

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

hi, so I was re-reading chapter 11 because I’m thirsty for more of your writing my queen, so a girl gotta do what a girl gotta do and it got me thinking about now we know how murderous Daemon can get when his B A B E Y is hurt, can you imagine if babey is poisoned when she was in dorne after chapter Brat? can you imagine the man warning everyone that sending his wife to Dorne would risk her life and the absolute worst happen right before his eyes? imagine the shit storm that would happen. Imagine her dragon????

Daemon would show up uninvited at old palace, sunspear during the welcoming feast for the Targaryen Princess, walk towards the table in the feast hall while dragging a chair behind him to sit beside his babey with nothing but a fuckery smug smirk on his face knowing who in their goddamn mind would deny and throw out Prince Daemon I-do-what-I want-and-you-can-fuck-off Targaryen. He looked at babey and think now that he’s here no one would dare harm her let alone breathe the wrong way towards babey. he’s here and surely nothing will go wrong, and BOOM would you guess it? one sip of the famous dornish reds had babey slamming the glass loudly to the table, she looked over at a startled Daemon before coughing up blood to his face, and collapse to the floor.

The hell that Daemon would unleash to the dornish scumnobles, demanding not one soul leave the palace until they found the culprit. Carrying babey to a secluded room as she writhe in his hold, blood all over his chest and her mouth. Screaming for maesters, healers, or anyone who could help his wife, and if by the time babey is laid down on the bed and no one is by her side to tend to her, by gods he would burn the entire Dorne to ashes.

Daemon having a dilemma between tearing the entire palace apart to find the culprit or mounting Caraxes to burn everyone alive or stay by babey side as she writhe and convulse and cried out in pain on the bed. but when they advice for someone to force babey to throw up the poison, Daemon was quick to cradle babey and force his fingers down her throat.

The internal turmoil going inside his head as he watch babey in pain and can only do nothing but wait. Then them telling Daemon that if babey survives the night, she would live on, and so Daemon kneeled beside her all night long gripping her hands, staring at her and asking her gently ‘you would wake up in the morning for me, right? sweet girl?’

Nobody dared enter the room as the prince wait for his wife and Dorne fate depends on whether or not the Targaryen Princess survives the night. They didn’t even dare imagine what would happen to them if she dies, perhaps they would finally witness the true Targaryen Madness

The aftermath of the incident leads to Daemon to personally drinking babey’s wine before her, having the servants taste her food before serving it, the paranoia he went through each time babey gets sleepy after drinking wine, and ooooh the misery the entire Dorne has to suffer after poisoning Daemon Targaryen precious wife

and and A N D (and just bear with my masochist ass pls) imagine Athfiezar feeling her pain??? wreaking havoc, and climbing the roof of the palace demanding to see babey? clawing the walls? crushing everyone in his way? roaring just as hard when babey screamed in pain? the dragon never wanting to fly to Dorne again? holding a grudge against it for what it did to his rider? and if Athfiezar ever fly across Dorne again, it’s only to fry them crispy. Gods help the Dornish.

yea I like pain if you can guess correctly. and if you write an au to this, my queen I would simply a s c e n d

Oooooh, I might say that something dramatical will happen in this current instalment? Kinda, um, in this vein? Not necessarily Dorne, and not necessarily poison, but, like, if y'all love unhinged-maniac!Daemon you might enjoy what I have in store.

But oh my gods this would make Daemon an absolute literal fucking nightmare. He'd quite happily threaten to slit Qoren's kids' throats if Babey dies from poison, I think. You bet the Prince'll be working double-time to get Babey fixed and find the damn culprit before Daemon tears Dorne a new asshole.

And the aftermath? Man, if they thought Targs were fucking paranoid, well, let's add a new milestone to the record-book. Daemon Targaryen, King of Cray-Cray-Town, population one. I betchu he'd never let the poor girl out of his sight - he might even make good on those threats to lock her the fuck up and limit all access to her, ain't nobody getting through that he doesn't have triple-verified before they're allowed to breathe in the same air space as his Babey. Viserys has to threaten him with an annulment and exile for him to pull his head outta his butt and chill on the psycho just a little bit. Still, her guards are tripled, and I reckon he might seriously consider having a manor built right the fuck near the Cannibal's nest to ward off anyone who's stupid enough to attempt harming his wife. He can put up with the aggression from the damn dragon, he can even put up with the smell of rotting flesh and the clink of bones. He be crazy.

Oof, but literal chills at the thought of nutjob Daemon. I do like it when Targs be crazy.

#fanfiction comments #follower headcanons #future au ideas

[kaijuconfessions]

alright here's one: i get so genuinely fed up and pissed off when people or media try to make big deals about "making up" or letting go of "grudges" in regards to abusive family like it's a one size fits all shoe, like not saying that it doesnt work since im sure for some people it does help!! but i hate when it gets branded as like some cure all

im currently live with my dad and it's been the best decision in my entire life since we were both abused by my mom, although i got more of it since my dad left when i was a teenager (not that i hold it against him, he was on the verge of suicide bc of how stressful she made everything) which to give a vague idea of how bad the abuse was, my siblings should have been taken out of that house a LONG time by cps but due to all the failures of the system we weren't

to give a laundry list of all the shit she did to us (not all of these happened to me specifically but happened to my siblings)

• took our birthday money and sold our birthday presents to buy herself drugs (i think hers was either meth or heroin, all i know is it came in needles)

• physically pushed around and slapped us (one time when my mom was very mad at me about my hair [i am afab and i wanted short hair] she pushed me into a bathtub and i hit my head against the wall of the tub)

• sold our possessions for gambling and drug money

• call us fat disgusting worthless ect. told us we were going to hell once for lying about something we didn't even lie about

• throw dishes at us

• idk ab my siblings but made me babysit her drug friends kids and instead of me getting paid she took my money

• yelled at us when we didn't do chores and when we did chores (i now have a chronic fear of cleaning and being yelled at for it :) )

• locked food in a vanity and made us pay for it

alot of it had to do with money now that i think about it

but idk why people expect me to talk to and even forgive this sort of behavior like, idc if she was on drugs or mentally ill- im mentally ill and id fucking kill myself before id exhibit any of that type of downright sick and exploitive behavior. like don't get it wrong, i WANT her to get better and to be happy and find peace in her life, I just refuse to be apart of it since every step of the way where i had tried to support her bettering herself (which is very hard to do as a minor) she has stepped on my toes without learning or even saying sorry

unrelated but i also hate it when people accuse me of lying about this shit, like idk how to politely communicate "fuck off, this is my life and you have no place saying it's not real because you weren't there to personally see it" since i recently had to deal with an asshole calling bs on my trauma

like i said im in my 20s now and living with my dad since i refuse to see or contact her, which is one of the best decisions in my life since every moment that i was with her i just wanted to truly die, and it has give me my new mindset which is i just refuse to put up with bullshit or people who won't support me since I can't be bothered to put change into a vending machine that doesn't work

tldr: i hate when "making up and forgiving abusive family" gets branded as some ultimate cure to family dysfunctions by people and media, not that its bad, it just doesn't work for everyone

Holy shit I’m glad you’re out of that situation

[andordean]

OTP Asks for Cahir/Ciri (and maybe Ciri/Tankred you want to do them as well): 3, 9, 12, 13,14, 20, 51, 58

I saved this as a draft and then Life Happened, sorry it took me so long!! 💜

I'm likely gonna do three versions of it for canon/modern AU Cahir/Ciri and the. CIRI/TANKRED AS REQUESTED (Blood Times got to 300 kudos, celebratory post coming! 🥳🥳🥳)

3. Do they wear the other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.)

Ciri steals their clothes aplenty; shirts in canon verse, a particularly soft hoodie in modern!AU that's hers now, thanks for asking, and a particular robe in black and red that used to be Tankred's but it brings out her eyes, and also, it's incredibly warm, perfect for the wretched Koviri weather.

9. What are their thoughts on having children?

Canon!Ciri is not comfortable with the idea At All. Too much has happened, too much has been done to her, too many times she's been treated like a breeding mare for this to be something she actively wants.

In the Queen of Cintra verse, she grows to accept it as part of the package, but delays it for as long as possible.

In Pieces verse, she gets pregnant by accident, and is considering aborting the child. Ultimately decides against it.

Modern!AU Ciri isn't mad about the idea, but can be convinced. Maybe.

Cahir wants kids in any and all verses; Tankred accepts it as an integral part of being a royal. He doesn't have any strong feelings about it one way or another--until he does.

12. Do they have many heated arguments? How do they smooth things over?

Ciri/Cahir in Witcher-verse: not too many. Most often over Ciri being reckless and putting herself in danger. (Ciri never acknowledges she's at fault here, but she does promise to do better. Then she goes and breaks this promise.)

Ciri/Cahir in Splinters verse: nothing worse than their breakup fight

Ciri/Tankred: not really. Tankred is a good negotiator, and he doesn't let her wind him up too often. They have heated discussions, but they rarely escalate; too much is at stake. (To smooth things over, they fuck.)

13. Who’s the bigger tease?

Cahir/Ciri in Pieces: Ciri

In modern!AU: both are equally bad

Ciri/Tankred: smug boi is a hedonist through and through.

14. How do their personalities compliment each other? How do they clash?

Cahir/Ciri: he's calm to her storm, he's the one emotionally open, he's the one who knows what he wants. Clashing: she can be reckless and impatient; he can be unwilling to take risks.

Ciri/Tankred: her intuition with his strategic talent; her courage with his cunningness; her fierceness with his (cold) calculation; her imagination and idealism with his pragmatism. Clashing: her hot-headed attitude; his pride and arrogance

20. Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

Ciri/Cahir Pieces verse:

Ciri/Cahir modern!AU:

Ciri/Tankred:

51. What’s a non verbal way they say I love you?

For Cahir/Ciri, answered here.

Ciri/Tankred: little gestures in public, invisible or innocent enoguh to the onlookers. Touch. Massage after a particularly draining day. Tankred likes to give her jewelry with rubies to represent his house colours; Ciri isn't entirely against the idea.

58. Who’s more likely to hold a grudge after an argument?

Ciri, in any verse, in any relationship. 😆

Thank you so much for the ask dear 💜💜💜

#thank you ❤️ #ciri/cahir #ciri/tankred

[speakingagain]

So I got that Shadow Work journal that's all over tiktok, but I got it like 6 months ago and then lost it till last week. I'm good at doing that.

Anyways, i did a few of the first exercises in the book and it asked about things from my childhood that still upset or make me angry. And as I filled out a few pages worth, I realized that I'm mad over something I had no control of from when I was like 6 years old. If I do my math right at 2:30 in the morning, that's 16 years. No. Wait...18? Hold up. 24-6.....18 years. Yeah. Okay, I was close.

Eighteen freaking years of being pissed off. That's shit that you would hear from the grumpy old man dying from liver failure would say. Not a 24 year old. That's a lot of hate to hold onto. And I had several pages of shit I'm still upset about.

I would never have considered myself to be an angry person. Ever. But my examples of "angry people" has been pretty... extreme. My sperm donor (father) is a very angry person. He always has been. I remember we came home one time from getting groceries and he threw a frozen solid box of lasagna at the family dog because it pooped inside because we had been gone for hours and had no way to get outside.

That was one of his calmer episodes too.

My little brother (step that technically doesn't count) used to run around screaming and breaking things because he wouldn't get his way. He once got so mad over something when he got picked up from the bus stop that he burst a blood vessel in his nose and had a really bad bloody nose. I didn't think that was actually possible, I thought it only happened to horny teenage boys in anime.

My soon to be ex husband has the emotional regulation skills of a toddler. He used to boast about how he put another kid's head through a window because they made fun of his sister. Or when his mom's car (that we had been using while she was out of town) got repo-ed, I was on the non emergency line too figure out what happened to the car and he came in screaming and breaking things. The woman on the other line asked if I needed help. That was when I first realized I was experiencing domestic abuse but I thought it was just a moment of weakness and her could change and I loved him so much that I would stand by him through these trials. "But Daddy, I love him!" Right? Yeah I know.

Anyways, that kind of thing was always normal for me. That's what I used to think of when they said 'angry person'.

But that's me. I am the angry person.

Now granted, I never hit anyone, or broke someone's stuff or anything like that. But that's honestly just kind of the bare minimum for being able to regulate your emotions. And I don't want to be angry. I hate being angry. It's so much effort. So I made a plan to work on forgiving.

First, I wanted to learn more about what it actually means to forgive. My father always told me that "God wants us to forgive and forget." And that never made sense to me because of someone hurts you, why would you forget they did it and just let them do it again? Turns out he's actually just a manipulative asshole, who knew?

My ex, when I would call him on his bullshit used to ask me, "how long are you going to hold that against me?" (My favorite was when he asked if we could take turns sleeping on the couch after I found out he was cheating on me for the last 2 years and I laughed and told him 'fuck no'. He genuinely couldn't understand why I would disagree to that, so I told him, "because I wasn't the one who couldn't keep it in my pants". He left the house for an hour and came back pouting.) He also was a manipulative asshole but he was also really bad at it. But him always asking this made me question what the difference is between holding someone accountable and holding a grudge and learning from the pain they caused you.

So I've been doing some research. And there's a lot of differences of opinions on the topic of forgiveness. Mainly between the religious definitions and the basic definition I found in Webster's dictionary. And then there's the psychologic mumbo jumbo to understand too. I actually haven't come up with a solid answer on when it crosses the boundary between remembering and learning from the pain to holding a grudge.

And I imagine I will get probably the same confusing answers if I ask those around me. Everyone has different beliefs and experiences so no one will have the same opinion on it. I'm wondering if it is a subjective concept, and it will have to be something I can only judge in the moment.

Or maybe I'm just still feeling the effects of being manipulated over it. Who knows?

The next step for figuring out how to forgive and move on is to look at things I need to forgive, and figure out if I need to forgive them, or forgive myself. So, I made a shit list.

So far, I have a few people on it because I kept falling asleep while writing it (shh don't tell my boss). I plan on adding more once I have more of a decent brain process and more than 3 hours of sleep.

I had three columns:

Who?

Did what?

Why should I forgive?

And it was really kind of cathartic and eye opening to write down things like "I deserve to be happy." "I deserve to be safe." "I deserve to be seen and heard." " I deserve to be healthy. " My 'Ah-ha!' moment or my 'oh shit' moment I guess.

I now need to decide how I'm going to get myself closure. For example, I can talk to my mom and tell her that her making comments about how much I eat makes me feel like shit and that some things just don't need to be said. But I'm not going to reach out to my sperm donor and say "hey, remember when you called me a wh**e because I wouldn't let you hold my hand?....the fuck you mean no? I moved out that night????" I'd get no closure and I'd probably just end up more pissed off than I am now.

It would be a waste of my time and effort and quite frankly, it would be like talking to a really dumb brick wall. So what else could I do?

Kick him in the shin? That's called assault and I wouldn't make it in jail.

Make a voodoo doll of him and have someone else kick him in the shin? While that sounds hilarious, I don't know any voodoo and I ain't messing with the shadow man.

So maybe I'll just write out a long ass letter and light it on fire while screaming "suck my dick" into the abyss. Seems cathartic enough? I dunno, that one may also require years of therapy. But we will get there eventually. Hopefully.

Any suggestions?

[when-ramona-cries]

My Old Friends Suck

I figured I should start with that just in case I fill in half of this blank sheet and in the middle of it all, I get swayed by my soft heart again, willing myself to forgive then without them even apologizing for what they have done to me. I mean, I'm not really a person who likes to hold grudges against people. I'm normally the oh-I-don't-have-the-energy-to-deal-this-drama-right-now-fast-forward-two-weeks-later-oh-was-I-mad-at-you-sorry-I-forgot person. Maybe that's why I'm mostly taken granted by the people I love (or maybe that's just my superiority complex victimizing myself, I'd like to think it's the former still). Maybe that's why I always get thrown under the bus. People always just think that I'd understand. Or that I'd be the more forgiving one. That I have much more wiggle room to provide so I should be the one adjusting.

At first, of course, when I started to realize it's coming this way, I cried to my sister. I was like, twelve, or somewhere around that age, definitely still in elementary. I cried to her and asked why people are like that to me when I just wanted to be friends with them. My sister, the ever-so nonchalant she is, dismissed it like it's no big deal, and told me that if it doesn't matter in the next five years for you, then you shouldn't bother with it at all. I remembered taking it to heart, thinking that's the first-ever sisterly advice I received from her, and just like how it is in the young adult novels I've been feeding myself despite me not fitting yet in that genre-category, I imagined myself and how I was going to carry that as I grow up, apply it to situations that will come at me, and be like her, oh-so cool and oh-so unbothered. I'm betting now she probably just read that around Tumblr or Twitter.

Anyway, it doesn't matter because no matter how much I forced myself to regroup my way of thinking into that line of thought, I was just so much a people-pleaser that I always end up either making people extra like me or spite me to death. I never really had childhood friends back at home. I graduated elementary with no secured friendships that I won't even be bothered to join reunion events. By the time I got in high school, wherein I entered an unchartered territory, where no one knows me, and everyone else knows my cool sister, I figured that was my chance. I'll be the cool girl who's friends with everyone and who's so nice that even if I keep rejecting their invites because of my strict parents, they'll keep inviting me in hopes that one day I'll come. At some point, I was that. I was part of a large group of friends in my class and every seniors know me as the Little sister of my sister. I joined clubs, ran for office in the class, and then later, in the whole department. I'll say I thrived. But it was the sort of thrive that comes from the validation of others.

Maybe that's why by the time I moved up Senior High School, I got tired of socializing, going out, and just... people-pleasing. Even though I brought some friends with me back in High school, I never really bothered keeping it tight because I was so focused in myself, in my drama, and nothing else. People still got something to say, of course, and I started to get people hating at me again for no reason. But I was too caught up with myself to give a fuck, and so I never really did. For them, Senior High School was this memorable part of their youth, bunch of teenage angst and fleeting memories of wild and adventure. It was just really like a time filler for me. If you ask me what was my favorite thing about it, I wouldn't really be able to say anything substantial.

And so when I moved out of the country, I had zero elementary friends checking up, wavering ties with my high school friends, and nothing much really with my Senior high. At this point in life, I just started to blame myself for not being able to keep them aflame. Maybe I was too intimidating. Was I too timid? Did I offend them? Maybe I showed less interest than they want. Or maybe more and then I started to creep them out. Whatever that is, people seemed not to bother with me anymore. No matter where I go, or how much I have achieved, it felt like I'm floating and I wasn't really there.

Of course it bothered me. I'm still a people-pleaser deep down despite me getting tired of the act. I grew up sort of like the golden child. I get awards for my parents in exchange for validation. I guess their words of affirmation defined what love is for me. My Mom isn't really into physical affection and my Dad is rarely in the picture for that. I have two other siblings and we weren't brought up materialistic. But my parents and the other people around did really love comparing us with each other, mostly me to my sister, and my brother to the both of us. Maybe that was it. What I'm trying to say is that words coming from them really hit differently towards me. So at a young age, I already knew how words worked and I learned how to play with them.

My old friends really do suck. By old friends, I'm pertaining to the high school ones, the wavering ones. Now that I'm self-evaluating, I'm wondering if I even should call that as friendship. I mean, we were in that young age, so caught up with the internet and self-image patronization. I don't know if we're being friends then, but I'm sure we were trying so hard to be cool. At least to the people watching. By that, I mean our Instagram followers.

It's not that they did me dirty. I mean, they did. But I feel like now, our friendship was so shallow that whatever they did to me is so detached that it practically feels like dust to me now. See, I'm the forget-it type, not the hold-a-grudge one. Though there are times where I will myself to remember the nasty so that I replant that fading grudge. It was that bad that even if I'm so detached and I'm never the grudge holder, I force myself to. I'm petty. I just won't allow whatever they did to just get past. They should at least know that it wasn't okay before I forgive them. But to be honest it has never really reached a point so far where they do ask for forgiveness. I think they're either too self-absorbed or I just don't matter to them that much. Both are depressing facts, by the way.

I grew up on novels of friends growing together, growing apart, then reconnecting and rekindling, to achieving their younger versions' dreams made together. I craved for the hanging out after school, learning about the mature stuff together, discovering things together, crying in bathroom stalls, throwing up in bathroom stalls, all that shit. But I guess those are just for some kind of people. And I'm never going to be in that kind.

While writing this, I originally thought of writing how much I have changed now that I'm in college. That I learned how to let go and cut off, how to move forward without stepping back just so I know I can keep up. I do acknowledge these growth. Still, I know in most parts of me, I still blame myself for me.

You see, I'm still a people-pleaser. I give a damn about what other people would say. I will always take hundreds of pictures so I could have the perfect one to post. I will always cater myself as the cool one.

What changed though, is I know now that my old friends suck. I know now who to cater myself to, who to only give my damns to. Sometimes I slip up, but I don't entirely crumble. I only try to those I consider. The rest, I don't give a shit, though I still assume that most look up to me. Now that's my superiority complex talking.

[weuschoiceheart]

hi wow i haven't been on here for a long time lol, but rn i just want to rant and feel comfortable in a space where i feel like i actually belong

tw: negativity, lots of cursing, school drama

so i'm part of two dance clubs at my school, and we're gonna have a major showcase tomorrow, after school. i'm in three different dance groups: choreo, chinese traditional, and a kpop one for Itzy Wannabe. I don't have high expectations for this show because one, it was majorly delayed (the board said it was gonna be in May, now it's a whole ass month later and still no show), two, the board of directors this year are absolute jackass seniors who don't give a fucking shit after getting into college. Meetings are usually canceled or delayed, and the different dance groups themselves get broken up throughout the year as people don't practice and stuff. My Wannabe group was one of the few that was salvaged from the wreckage. I'm the vice president for my choreo group and we're scrambling to get stuff together last minute cuz the board didn't tell us when the show is gonna be until like, two weeks ago??? And me and another girl teamed up to direct traditional because if we hadn't told the president anything, then traditional dancing wouldn't have been on the program this year. They only told us the order we're performing TODAY and we had to do a rehearsal TODAY TOGETHER to prepare. AND GUESS WHAT?? Tomorrow's technically the "last day of school" for us (our school schedule is kinda wack cuz we have separate weeks for tests), the show's starting later than we expected because we need to do another rehearsal beforehand to make sure our show doesn't fall apart, the location is the gym where there's no AC even though tmr's like, 80 degrees, so who's even gonna show up?? Why couldn't they have picked a different day, and be, idk more prepared and responsible, actually communicating with us properly instead of ignoring our emails. I was also supposed to be in the singing division as well, and perform a song with another friend, but the fucking singing coordinator dipped right before auditions LAST YEAR. I have and will continue to hold a grudge against that girl, istfg.

The last straw for my (barely concealed) rage was when I saw the FREAKING PROGRAM. THE PROGRAM THEY WERE GONNA DISTRIBUTE TO THE AUDIENCE. I don't know WHAT they used to make it, but my name was only found for the choreo group. As I mentioned before, I'm part of three fucking dance groups, and my name only got listed for ONE even though i WORKED HARD FOR EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM. I bet they only remembered my name for choreo because I'm the vice president for that division, and if i hadn't been, i wouldn't even be credited at all.

and idk about the other groups, but afaik, my name was the only one excluded.

it's like an artist not getting credit for their work even tho they poured their heart and soul into a piece, a songwriter or producer not mentioned even tho they worked just as hard on the song. idc if i'm exaggerating, but i'm so fucking mad rn idek anymore. And I know it's not some stupid mistake because one of my friends EXPLICITLY SENT THE PRESIDENT OF THE BOARD OF DIRECTORS A MESSAGE ABOUT WHO'S IN THE WANNABE DANCE GROUP, AND I- YES, ME- I HELPED MY FRIEND ORGANIZE THE TRADITIONAL DANCE GROUP. I PERFORMED WITH THEM LAST WEEK DURING OUR CULTURAL DAY AT SCHOOL. AM I JUST "CASUALLY FORGOTTEN" THEN?? HOW MESSED UP AND IRRESPONSIBLE CAN YOU BE??

and guess what! the programs are all printed out and neatly folded now so no changes can be made!! everyone will just be wondering who's that weird girl dancing with the rest of the group! does she even belong there?

[clairecrive]

Hi could we please get a really angsty fic with nikolai (with a happy ending pls) where reader and he has had a fight so they maintain the facade on the outside bc they're royals but in private it's just ignoring each other/angst?

Young Royals

A/N: ahh, this is angsty alright but it seems I'm only capable of writing hurt/comfort lately. This took a life of its own and it's long af but I hope you like it anyway x

Warnings: miscommunication, angst, fighting, hurt/comfort, Nikolai is a bit absent, you're a bit jealous of his relationship with Zoya

Tags: @jupiterandbutterflies, @agentsofsheilds , @for-bebbanburg , @randomoutsiders , @pansysgirlfriend , @hannaxmaria , @vintagebitc , @story-scribbler , @crowssixof , @odetostep,@lizzie-he4rts, @korol-lantsov, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @gallysonegoodlung, @a-c-lee, @mriddlemethis, @carnationworld,@thanossexual, @luvxginger, @sanna2020,@partiesandblurrypolaroids, @edithsvoice, @wafflesandschemingfaces (tag list form)

SHADOW AND BONE MASTERLIST

"Do not put words into my mouth, Nikolai."

"Please, you already have so many, my love," he scoffed and the use of the term of endearment hurt the most.

"You're making me sound like a brat while I'm providing you with a viable solution," you insisted with a flare of your hands, frustrated by his unwillingness to listen to you.

"No, you're not. What you're doing is being childish."

"I'm your queen, Nikolai. I'm only asking to be more involved."

"You're my wife, y/n, and you know nothing about politics or running a country." He retired, putting emphasis on wife. This felt a lot like being put into place. And the fact that it was your husband doing so, hurt. It was also the most you had seen him this week.

"Neither did Zoya, nor Genya or anyone who's currently running the country."

"That's different and you know it."

"Only because you're making it so," you exclaimed finally exploding. His despondency got on your nerves and this conversation was going nowhere anyway.

Surprised by your raise of voice, Nikolai stood before you just blinking at you.

Sighing, you took a step toward him, holding your hands up, "look, you're right, I don't know about running a country but teach me. I'm not stupid, I'll pick it up."

"Why are you insisting so much? You've never shown any interest in politics before." He gave you a puzzled look like he didn't really believe your intentions.

"I've never wanted to be queen before." before meeting you.

"Ah, I see," he chuckled mirthlessly, "I put you in this situation and now you're taking your revenge."

To insinuate that your marriage with him was you "being put into a situation" rather than a consensual decision you had made out of love was absurd.

Nikolai was right. You had never cared about politics or diplomacy before meeting him. You were a soldier. There was no reason for you to meddle with something that didn't concern you.

But now you were queen and you felt a responsibility towards your people. You wanted to help but so far, Nikolai hadn't allowed you to take part in any meetings. He said that anyone who needed to be there was already involved. What he didn't tell you was that while Grisha made excellent soldiers and even good councillors, one of them being a royal was a very different matter.

He had indulged his love for you by marrying you. You were his vice and he simply couldn't accept the idea of being without you anymore. He had married you, consequently making you queen, going against what his advisors told him.

While he ignored his warnings he was painfully aware, however, how difficult it was going to be for a Grisha on the throne. It was the first time something liked this had ever happened and unfortunately, the country was filled with people who resented Grisha for their powers.

Nikolai feared that the people were never going to accept you. Hence why he'd been keeping you secluded in the palace.

To be fair, you were doing a wonderful job. Like he had pointed out, you were not accustomed to politics but you made up for that with empathy and kindness. You started to interest yourself with the problem of poverty and lack of provisions for some parts of the country.

And while no one was aware of it, Nikolai often turned to you for military strategy. You were an apt soldier and had fought bravely alongside him and everyone else in the battle of the Fold. You were the very reason why he was still alive, to be honest.

While this arrangement worked for the first months of your reign, it was starting to feel an inadequate effort. You needed to do more, you wanted to do more. You didn't expect Nikolai to oppose it so vehemently.

"If I didn't want to be here I wouldn't be, Nikolai, you'd do well to remember it," you pointed out coldly, straightening your spine.

"Since you seem so adverse at spending time with me or including me in important matters, I'll find someone else who will." And with that, chin held high, you walked out of the room.

You missed him. It felt absurd to say this but you missed your husband. He was always busy with meetings or official visits to some noble across the country. For most of them, he went alone or with Zoya.

You knew that she was his first in command but you couldn't help but be bothered by it. It was one thing to accept the fact that he hadn't given the role to you "because the queen cannot have that role as well", it was a whole other thing to accept the fact that another woman spent more time with your husband than you did.

Countless were the fights you had with him in this regard. But they were pointless. Nikolai was still set on not bringing you and he and Zoya were always found together.

You didn't know what hurt more. The blow at your pride for being denied a position you deserved because of who you loved, the jealousy or being punished for your identity.

One thing was sure though, it was getting too much. At first, you pulled thought for Nikolai but now that you didn't have him anymore, your efforts seemed to be in vain.

So, like you had told Nikolai, you looked for someone who was willing to teach you. You wanted to help and if Nikolai wasn't going to let you here at the palace, then you'd find somewhere else.

Count Kirigin had always been nice to you and he was a very generous host. You knew that he played a central role in Nikolai's plan so you thought that there was no one better than him.

You reached out to him, wrote him a letter in which you showed interest in his activity and asked him if he was willing to show you. Of course, anything that came from the queen or the king couldn't be denied but you knew that the Count truly enjoyed your company. If your position didn't put so much higher than everybody else, you'd even consider him a friend.

You waited for his reply before putting in motion the preparations for your departure.

In the meantime, you and Nikolai kept conducting your separate lives. Usually, you'd only see him at night when he returned to your chambers if you were still up. Now, you had decided to sleep in separate rooms too.

If he wanted a wife, then a wife he'd get. But kings and queens do not sleep together.

If the new arrangement was bothering him, you didn't know. He hadn't reached out to you nor made any move to rectify your decision.

Turns out that he wasn't even at the Palace. He had left for a mission near the border with Shu Han and wouldn't be back for at least a week. Well, then. Of course, he didn't even bother with telling you. Not even a small note.

Jokes on him though, you thought, since when he was going to come back, he'd finally get what he wanted. You weren't going to be there to bother him anymore.

Differently from him though, you did indeed left him a note. Nikolai found it a week after you had set it on his pillow. Its presence made him furrow his eyebrows since he had already been wondering where you were. You usually came out to meet him at the gates whenever he'd come back from a mission and even though you had fought before he went away, you weren't one for holding grudges. So e guessed there was something holding you.

Unfolding the paper he was met with your familiar chaotic writing.

"I don't know when you're going to find this letter but if I'm not there yet it means that I'm still at Count Kirigin's. Do not bother with writing or visiting, I'll come back when my business with him is done.

Y/n"

What in the name of every sweet loving saint???

The letter wasn't dated, no dear, no yours no nothing. Fuck. You were still mad or worse, hurt.

Asking one of the servants, he learned that you had been away for a week already. But what business could you possibly have with the Count??

Nikolai had nothing against him. Seeing Kirigin get all flustered as he tried to flirt with Zoya amused him to no end but the idea of him and you in the same house? Alone?? Unacceptable.

Not even bothering to change clothes after his long journey, Nikolai headed to the stables to ask for a well-rested horse. Luckily, Count Kirigin's estate was not too far away. A couple of hours ride.

Turns out that the Count had a lot to teach. Despite his aloof reputation and extravagant clothes, he was very observant. He lacked ambition, which was why Nikolai trusted him and had a curious way of behaving in social situations.

But Emil had been born and raised in high society. He knew how things were run even if he had no desire to be in charge of them.

So far, you'd be having a wonderful time. Emil was a wonderful host, as you remembered, but without Nikolai's presence, he was even more extravagant. He had an unexpectedly dry sense of humour and a never-ending list of jokes.

Being in the open and in the company of someone who saw y/n instead of the Queen of Ravka proved to be even more needed than you thought. You felt reinvigorated and much lighter than you'd ever been.

You had also been learning a lot. Emil had been teaching you about diplomacy. About the best ways of formulating a sentence so that you wouldn't offend anyone but still get what you wanted. He had also been talking to you about your husband's ministers. About their weaknesses and vices and what was the best way to approach them to get what you wanted.

So far, it was proving to be a wonderful decision to come here.

Whenever your mind strayed on Nikolai, you willed it to focus on something else. You didn't know if he had already come home or seen the letter. A part of you thought that if he had, he would at least write one back. But the thought felt a lot like hope and seeing as how little he saw you even before you left, you didn't think it safe to harbour it.

When Nikolai reached the estate, he was met with Kirigin's servants. They welcomed him inside and profusely apologised for the Count's absence. They told him that at this time of the day, Kirigin and his guest would usually go out on a ride but that they were also about to return.

So Nikolai waited, sitting in the most comfortable chair the Count owned, fuming at the thought that his wife had felt the need to go away and be in the company of another man.

"If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be Nikolai. You'd do well to remember it."

Your words haunted him. They were the last thing that you told him. How stupid had he been to let you walk away. How utterly careless of him to disregard you like that.

He had promised himself to truly talk to you about it once this pressing matter of state was taken care of. Apparently, he had waited too long.

But Nikolai knew that the problem was at the source. He noticed how hurt you had been when he made Zoya his first in command. Or how sad you seemed everywhere he went somewhere with her and didn't ask you to join.

He was doing so to protect you from the inevitable slander you'd be met with. He should have known though that putting you aside was going to be even worse. You were a fighter just as much as Zoya was, if not stronger.

She hid behind her veil of indifference and superiority while you had never lost that emphatic verve that made everyone love you so much. In his attempt to make you safe, he had only managed to hurt you.

You were a warrior. You had accepted the role of queen only because it was the only way for you to be with Nikolai. And instead of praising you by making you a warrior queen, he had decided to hide you away.

Well, no more.

If his mistakes had not ruined everything already, he was going to make everything better.

Lost in his musing, he didn't hear the sound of hooves approaching but he did indeed hear your laugh. It immediately brought him back to the present and a wave of ugly jealousy hit him.

He couldn't remember the last time he made you laugh.

"I shouldn't even laugh Emil, the joke was terrible," Nikolai hear you giggling from somewhere in the hall. So now he was Emil, huh.

"You know you can't resist my charm, your highness," Emil replied and Nikolai had to call on every bit of his self-control to not barge out of the room and punch him.

"Stop it, you know you can call me y/n."

Before Emil could reply, they had both made it to the sitting room where Nikolai was waiting for them. It looked like no one had warned them of his presence because Kirigin looked surprised then utterly mortified.

"Your majesty, I wasn't aware you were here. Please forgive me for making you wait."

"Don't fret Kirigin, it was an impromptu visit. I came to see how my lovely wife was doing." No matter how green he was feeling right now, he knew that Kirigin was loyal to him and the crown. Whatever was happening here wasn't one of his schemes.

"Of course! I'm going to send for some tea while you two get reunited." Kirigin quickly bowed before hurrying out of the room.

Nikolai met your eyes for the first time since you had arrived. If at first, you were surprised to see him, now you couldn't help but be a bit sceptical about this visit.

"What are you doing here?" you asked breaking the ice.

"You leave with only a few lines on where you're going and you expect me to just accept it?" He scoffed, his hands curling on the armrests of the chair.

"It's more than what you gave me," you quipped, crossing your arms on your chest.

Nikolai sighed while his gloved hands run through his hair. You were right and he knew it. He had been a horrible husband lately.

"I know you're mad at me, honey, but listen-"

"I'm not mad. You didn't want to give me what I wanted so I went looking for it somewhere else." Scrolling your shoulders, you interrupted him without meeting his eyes. A list of excuses was not what you wanted nor what you needed from him.

Nikolai didn't miss the innuendo. His jaw clenched, his hands closed in fists. But he willed himself to stay calm.

"You think Kirigin can give you something that I can't?" Nikolai was a master in diplomacy. Never did he get frustrated or angry or raised his voice, even with the most aggravating people. Here though, with you, he didn't have to keep a façade. He spoke through his teeth barely containing his anger.

"Well, so far, he's been giving me attention and interesting pointers that no, Nikolai, you refused to give me."

"So this is how you solve your problems? Running away in the countryside with Emil?" Nikolai sneered, his tone souring around Kirigin's name.

"Don't you do the same with your precious first in command?" Tired after your ride with Emil, you plopped down on the chair in front of Nikolai's. Completely ignoring his tone, you pointed out calmly. The perfect image of aloofness even when it was the last thing you were in this moment.

"That's different," he snapped trying to meet your eyes that were carefully analyzing your hands.

"Yes," you signed, "it seems that when I'm concerned everything is different."

"There's nothing between me and Zoya, y/n and you know it." Nikolai was getting more frustrated by the second. He came here to apologize, to make things right and so far, the conversation was going in the opposite directions.

"Maybe now, but you spend more time with her than you do with me. It's only a matter of time before it happens and you're sorely mistaken if you think I'll just stand by and watch."

"This is not about Zoya," he insisted but so far, he wasn't getting the reaction out of you he wanted. You seemed... resigned at the situation. And that worried Nikolai to no end.

"It never is."

"Why did you run away?" Opting for a more direct approach, he bit the bullet and went straight to the point.

"I did not run away," you scoffed in contempt at his choice of words, "I told you I wanted to do more and Emil is teaching me. Not everyone is so against spending time with me, you know." You shot him a glance.

It was the first time that you had looked at him since you had been left alone.

"I married you, y/n. How can you possibly believe I don't want to spend time with you?" As desperation slipped through his words, Nikolai leaned towards you in his seat. As if he couldn't bear the distance between you anymore. But you knew it wasn't that. You and he had been distant for months now.

"Because that's what's happening, Nikolai," you clipped back and Nikolai had to refrain from wincing at your tone.

"It's not intentional, my love, I've just been busy." His tone softened. It was a poor excuse of an apology but it was sadly the truth.

"But when I say that I want to join or help you with it you strongly oppose?" Again, there was that suspicious implication in your words that Nikolai just couldn't stand. To think that you believed he'd ever cheat on you with another woman when he had done so much, taken so many risks, to be with you.

"It's not what you think, y/n." He insisted again but immediately realized he had said the wrong thing when he saw you leaning back into your chair shaking your head.

"I don't think anything, anymore. Do whatever you want. You do your thing and I'll do mine. I won't be a bother to you anymore." Holding up your hands, you gestured as you spoke.

A beat. Nikolai froze in his seat at what you were suggesting.

"You're never a bother to me. Never." He leaned even forwards in his chair, basically only propping on it now. The desperation was now clear in his voice. He reached out to you to try and take hold of your hands but you were too distant.

"I love you more than anything in this world and if you think that I'm going to let you go without a fight, you're sorely mistaken." The steel determination of his words caught you off guard. Nikolai was strong-headed, you knew that better than anyone else, but it had been a long while since that determination had been directed to you.

"You already did." It was barely a whisper. The sad truth about your reality, the downfall of your relationship. The wavering of your voice, the pain in your eyes were enough to tip Nikolai off the edge.

"Milaya, please."He fell onto his knees in front of you. Leaning forward he reached for your hands that he could now hold. "I'm sorry. I put you in a difficult position when I married you and I tried my best to protect you."

"I don't need protecting, Nikolai, especially if it's by pushing me away."

"I was keeping you away from danger and I know that you're strong and capable but I hate to think of you as the object of public slander." His eyes darted between yours, frantic, desperate to make you understand.

"I'm Grisha, Nikolai. It's nothing new to me," you pointed out but then it hit you.

"By difficult position, you meant a Grisha Queen, didn't you?" Your eyes hardened at the implications, your hands going slack in his hold. You would have pulled them away if Nikolai didn't tighten his hold.

"Please, do not think I'm regretting my choice or I think you're not worthy of the title because that's not true." Pulling your hands, he tried to get you closer to him. "I fear that there will be repercussions among the people." And there it was, at last, the truth.

"And among your ministers," you added remembering Emil's lessons on the people at court and their role.

You scoffed when he stayed silent. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought I was doing the right thing, my love."

"So Zoya can handle it and I can't?"

"For the millionth time," he groaned, "I don't care about Zoya."

"I only care about you and I know you can handle it. I just didn't want you to. You deserve happiness and peaceful life and I know it's impossible to have in this saints' forsaken country but I can at least try." His eyes lowered in shame and his confession sent a pang through your heart. You took a moment to take in what he said.

Never had you thought about the possibility of Nikolai's distance was a form of protection. You were a soldier of the Second Army, after all. But being a queen, especially a Grisha one, was a delicate thing.

It was the first time in history that something like this happened. Nikolai's worries were not unfounded since even after the destruction of the Fold, anti-Grisha movements were spreading fast.

It was sad to see the General's attempt of assuring safety for Grisha, provoking exactly the opposite thing.

"Oh, Kolya," returning his grip, you leaned towards him, "I just want a life with you by my side."

"As do I. I want you always and forever but above all, I want you safe. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, you know it right?"

"I just ask that you tell me the truth and let me play the role I've been given."

"It's not going to be easy. People at court-"

"I know. That's why I'm here. Emil's been teaching."

"Well, no more. I'm going to take care of it from now on."

"Is this a promise or a threat?"

"Rest assured my love, the difference between the two is almost nonexistent." He flashed you a smirk and you couldn't help but smile at him. Here it was, your beloved Nikolai.

"Things are going to change, aren't they?" you murmured softly as he gently rested his forehead against yours.

"We're going to show everyone what a "power couple" is." Here was his promise. Sealed with the gentlest nudging of his nose to yours. The action made you smile and your heart soar. You missed these little moments of intimacy with him.

One of his hands came to cradle your face as the other kept hold of your left hand. Your rings softly clicked as they touched. A form of reassurance.

"I love you, y/n."

"And I you, Kolya."

You were completely lost in your little bubble, even more so when Nikolai's lips finally met yours, that you had forgotten where you were. And that there was an embarrassed Kirigin outside the door waiting for the right moment to come in with tea.

#nikolai lanstov #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai lanstov x you #nikolai lanstov angst #nikolai lanstov fic #nikolai lanstov imagine #nikolai lanstov imagines #nikolai lanstov one shot #nikolai lanstov fluff #grishaverse #shadow and bone

[watchmegetobsessed]

The Hottest Avenger - Bucky Barnes

a/n: im warning you, i will probably not stop for a while with the bucky fics so... brace yourselves lol! also i wrote this before ep 5 came out so its placed in that time

pairing: Bucky X Reader

warnings: TFATWS spoiler, some violence? nothing extreme

word count: 1.8k

summary: Being locked together with Sam and Bucky brings the worst out of you, picking on each other constantly. Following an arguement Bucky accidentally calls you his girlfriend in front of Sam when your relationship was supposed to be a secret.

masterlist

“Did you fucking eat the last dumpling?” you accuse Sam, holding up the empty takeout box where you thought were one more dumpling, one you’ve saved for yourself, but now it’s gone as Sam is eyeing you with his mouth full.

“Thought it was mine,” he mumbles, his words barely understandable from all the food in his mouth.

Taking a deep breath you’re trying not to jump at his throat right then and there. You’ve been locked up together all damn day in the trashy apartment across the street from the building where’s Zemo supposed to be hiding. Sharon had a tip about a possible place where he might be found, but you’ve been waiting to no avail for now. You’ve been growing stressed and impatient. You lost track of Karli and her people and now you can’t seem to find Zemo either. If it wasn’t for the Dora Milaje, you wouldn’t bother to be so after the asshole, but Bucky said if Ayo finds him first, he is dead and every useful information he holds goes to the grave with him so now you are forced to look for him. One failed mission has been following the other these days, that incompetent dickhead John is on the loose too after murdering that man in front of civilians and you feel like control has slipped out of your grip a long time ago. Now you’re stuck with Sam and Bucky in this crappy place, waiting by the window, watching out for Zemo and on top of everything… Sam ate your last dumpling.

Just when you’re about to snap at him, you feel a strong grip on your shoulder. You don’t have to look up to know it’s Bucky right behind you, but not just because he is the only other person in the room beside you and Sam, but also because you know his touch probably more than anyone. Only that most of the times it’s not your shoulder he is gripping…

It’s been going on for a long time between the two of you. Started with just some innocent flirting and you never thought it would grow into something more significant, but it did. And now you are officially in a relationship with none other than the Winter Soldier, only that no one else knows about it and you plan to keep it that way. You don’t need the teasing and jokes and the Avengers are known to be dicks sometimes, especially Sam.

Glancing up your eyes meet Bucky’s blue irises and he sends you a look that says “just let it go”, and though every fiber in you wants to whoop Sam’s ass, you let it slip.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna get mad about a dumpling,” Sam chuckles as he chews on the food that you should be enjoying right now.

“I can get mad about whatever I want to,” you growl back, growing quite irritated of him at this point.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” he huffs under his breath, clearly not as bothered as he should be. Before you could do any harm in him, you leave your spot by the window, needing a breather from… well, from him.

“Hey, it’s still your turn!” he calls after you.

“I need a break,” you growl back.

“Get your ass back here, we agreed to switch every two hours!”

“Sam! I’m walking out because I’m way too tempted to punch you in the face right now!” you snap at him, losing your patience. He rises from his seat with a hard expression, not quite a fan of the way you just talked to him, but you couldn’t care less.

“You think you could actually throw one? Because last time we fought you couldn’t really get a hold of me,” he narrows his eyes at you, coming to stand tall in front of you, trying to intimidate you with how much taller and stronger he might be, but you both know you’re a better fighter.

“It’s easy to talk with your fancy tech stuff. Why don’t we see who wins in a simple battle?” you challenge him with faked boredom.

“Guys, stop. We should be looking out for Zemo, not tearing each other apart,” Bucky tries to end the staring contest, sticking his metal arm between the two of you in case any of you decides to launch at the other one.

“Then tell her to stop bitching!” Sam nods in your way.

“I’m not bitching, I’m just fed up with your bullshit!” you spat back at him, leaning closer, your chest coming in contact with Bucky’s extended arm.

“Don’t talk to her like that, Sam,” Bucky warns him, but Sam snorts dryly.

“Don’t tell me you are taking her side, she is throwing a fit for a fucking dumpling!”

“I’m not taking sides, just trying to settle this stupid disagreement here,” he defends himself and you roll your eyes.

“You can’t tell me she is not overreacting it, Buck!” Sam laughs in disbelief, taking a step back, dropping the act that he wants to fight you. He probably knows he would come out as a ridiculous loser. “This is fucking insane, I’m not in the mood to deal with your shit, Y/N,” he shakes his head.

“Hey!” Bucky snaps at him. “Don’t talk to my girlfriend like that, okay?!”

“I’m just—wait, what?!” Sam’s eyes widen and you freeze too.

Your dumbass boyfriend didn’t just out the two of you, did he? What else is about to come?! Sam’s shock turns into a cocky grin as his eyes shift between you and Bucky.

“You guys… you guys are fucking?” he asks with a delightful laugh and you close your eyes sighing, already tired of his shit.

“That’s not—We’re not fucking, I mean… It’s not like that,” Bucky stutters, but it’s just making it worse. He looks at you with terror in his eyes, but you are way too drained to deal with it the right way.

“Yes, we are fucking! And we are in a mature adult relationship! Get yourself over it!” you bark at Sam before turning around and walking out.

You faintly hear the two men talk inside, but you don’t make out the words. You don’t go too far, sitting on the steps leading up to the third floor. Soon enough you hear the door of the apartment open with a creak and a moment later Bucky shows up in your sight. He sits beside you, remaining silent for a little before speaking up.

“Sorry for running my mouth,” he mumbles, his head hanging low.

“It’s… fine,” you breathe out. Bucky fidgets with his fingers and you know he wants to touch you in any kind of way as a reassurance that it really is fine. You don’t want to hold a grudge, it was an accident, you’re just a little bummed it’s not gonna be just the two of you anymore. Reaching out you take his hand, the real one that’s flesh and meat and you lace your fingers together as he peeks at you, still reserved and hesitant.

“Is it really fine or are you just bottling it up?”

“It really is fine,” you chuckle softly and leaning closer you kiss his scruffy cheek. “The only reason I wanted to keep it a secret is because you know how vickery the guys can get. I just didn’t want them to pick on us.”

“They do it because they are just jealous,” he smirks playfully, his shoulder bumping against yours.

“Yeah? Of what?” A soft chuckle slips through your lips.

“That I scored the hottest Avenger,” he replies smugly and you can’t help but laugh with your head snapping back.

“I didn’t know you were fucking Thor!” you retort and immediately see his smirk vanish from his lips as he stares back at you, not enjoying your joke as much as you are.

“Thor? Really? Not this shit again, Y/N,” he narrows his eyes at you. Back when you were just skirting around each other, you loved pulling his leg, joking about how much you are into the hottest Avenger, aka Thor. He never appreciated it, usually earned you a tight-lipped smile before he mumbled “Tarzan’s got nothing on me” before walking away, leaving you laughing like a hyena.

“Come on, you know I’m more into super soldiers,” you grin, leaning closer as he pepper his sharp jawline with more small kisses.

“You know, it’s not the best thing to say to your boyfriend when there are now about eight more super soldiers running around,” he huffs.

“But none of them has a metal arm,” you point out, finally making him laugh.

“So that’s your kink? A vibranium arm?” he asks with faked shock and you curl your arms around his bicep, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“How haven’t you realized yet?” you chuckle. Bucky turns his head until his lips can capture yours in a sweet, lighthearted kiss that makes you forget about everything that’s been clouding over your mind these past days. All the failures, the mistakes and chaos fades into nothing, because you have him and he has you.

Walking back into the apartment Sam stares back at you, neither of you entirely sure how to act after what just happened. He then grabs his phone from the dusty table before holding it up.

“I could order some extra dumplings,” he offers and you crack a smile shaking your head. This was his peace offering, both of you knows he won’t straight up apologize for the way he talked, but this is already more than what you were expecting from him. Bucky must have had a few words with him before joining you outside.

“It’s all good.”

The three of you get back to work, taking your previous spots, returning to the task on hand as silence falls on the room once again. You catch Sam glancing at you and the Bucky and you can tell he is about to make a snarky comment on your relationship. And just as he is about to open his big mouth, Bucky moves to silence him, but you’re faster. With a simple move you throw Sam to the ground, keeping him down with your hand wrapped around his neck.

“Don’t even think about teasing, understood?” you hiss at him as he gasps for air, his hands wrapping around your wrist as he tries to fight you off, but you hold him a second longer to emphasize the importance of your words. Then you finally let go of him and he coughs for air, fixing him up from the floor as you simply walk back to your spot by the window.

“Hottest Avenger, huh?” he breathes out, revealing that he heard what you talked about out on the stairs. “More like the Avenger with the most anger issues…”

You just grin, glancing over at your boyfriend who is now standing with his arms crossed over his chest, not even bothered by his friend’s struggles on the floor as he smirks back at you, nodding proudly as if he was saying: “That’s my girl.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#the falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #TFATWS #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky #bucky imagine #bucky au #bucky fanfiction #bucky oneshot #bucky angst #bucky fluff #bucky one shot #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan

[winchester-girl67]

The Long Way Home (Part 3)

Summary: The reader heads inside ready to have it out with her brother, but things don't go to plan and she winds up in the middle of a situation she never could’ve imagined.

Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x Shy!reader

Word count: 2,995

Warnings: (may contain some fic spoilers) language, violence/blood (minor cuts with a knife/a slap), injury, scary situation (restrained reader), scared!reader, anxiety, angst, demon possession, mentions/implied car accident/death, loss of consciousness

A/N: Here's part 3! Things are starting to get scary in this chapter. Enjoy.

_____

You anxiously tugged at Dean’s purple flannel, wrapping it tightly around your waist as you opened the front door to your brother’s house. It smelt like Dean or at least his detergent and you found that calming. You were kicking yourself now for letting him go so easily, you should’ve insisted on getting his phone number at the very least, but you didn’t want to force something if he wasn’t feeling it. Although, it was a little hard to believe he didn’t by the way he kissed you goodbye. Maybe you could make a day trip up to Lebanon in a week or two; it was a pretty small town so you figured someone would have to know where the Winchesters lived.

"What are you doing here?" Snapped your brother, Simon, from the other room when you walked into the foyer.

"I-I'm staying with you, r-remember?" You stammered nervously, meeting him in the kitchen.

"The hell you are, get out of here." He demanded, glaring at you from where he leaned up against the counter.

"B-but-"

"I'm not going to tell you again, brat. Get out!" He yelled and you’d finally had enough.

"You can be such an ass sometimes. So what, I think you made a mistake breaking up with June, since when do you even care what I think?" You scowled, it wasn't like your brother to hold a grudge against you for this long for something so trivial. But then again it wasn't like him to leave you behind across state lines with no way home either. "I get it, you’re mad. I just don’t understand why, did she cheat on you or something?”

“Last warning, Y/N.” He said, oddly extremely calm.

“You know what, if anyone has the right to be pissed, it’s me. Do you even care what I’ve been through or how I got home... You left me in the middle of nowhere with a fucking tornado on my ass and a dead cell phone and no money. I had to hitch a ride and spend the night with two guys in a very ominous looking muscle car because my brother is a complete and total jerk. Luckily, they turned out to be really great but things could’ve gone a lot worse if Dean didn’t come along.” You rambled, you were missing him already.

“Winchesters, of course.” Simon groaned to himself and rolled his eyes, “where are they now?”

“They left,” you shrugged and shook your head. “Wait, how do you know their name?”

“Should’ve known they wouldn’t leave a poor, helpless, defenceless little girl on the side of the road.” He sneered, his brown eyes turning to pure obsidian with a blink of his eyes.

You thought you were imagining it for a moment and your knees locked in fear as you continued to stare. It couldn’t be- It had to be the way the sunlight hit his face, it was casting a shadow under his brows making them look black. That made sense, right? Yeah, that had to be it. You were desperately trying to convince yourself that you weren’t crazy.

Your brother watched you with a sinister smirk and volcanic glass eyes, waiting for a reaction from you. One that wouldn’t come as you stood frozen in place.

And after what felt like minutes which was probably a matter of a seconds, he grew impatient and his face twisted into an expression of displeasure. He expected something more along the lines of running and screaming, that’s what he wanted and that’s what he was going to get.

He made his way over to the knife block on the kitchen counter, pulling the largest one from its place and feeling the weight of it in his hand as he slowly made his way over to you.

“S-Simon?”

“Simon’s not home right now but you can leave a message after the beep.” He snickered. Whatever the hell that meant. "He’s still hanging around up here," he said, tapping his temple with an index finger, "-somewhere. View-only though.”

“You’re hilarious, Simon. Now cut it out, you’re scaring me.” You said, stepping backwards as he approached you until your back bumped into the wall.

“Oh, I’m gonna do a lot more than that, brat, and your brother is going to have a front row seat to the show.” He smirked at you, leaning on his free hand against the wall next to you, the other still holding the knife that you kept glancing down at.

“It’s really creepy how you keep talking in third person. You know only psycho killers do that, right?” You stated, frowning when he dragged the knife up to your stomach.

You didn’t think your brother would ever hurt you, but now you were starting to doubt that theory.

“What’s more plausible, goody toe-shoes Simon suddenly snapped. Or someone, or rather something is possessing him. Like it's not even him." He laughed, waving the knife in front of your face for emphasis.

“S-stop, I’ll scream.”

“Timid little thing like you, bet your voice doesn’t even go that high.” He cackled and you felt your fear morph into anger.

“Fuck you!” You shouted.

“There we go, that’s more like it, Y/N!" He shouted back in your face twice as loud, following it up with another dark chuckle.

You'd had enough and grabbed his hand with the knife trying to steal it away. He may have been taller than you but he was skinny and lacking in the muscle department so you usually weren't too unevenly matched.

Except the grip he had on your arm bruised instantly and he ripped the knife away from you effortlessly, grazing your palm in the process and slicing the skin.

You retreated and glanced down at your palm, watching the blood seep into the wound until you felt light-headed and dizzy. You looked back up at your brother to see his eyes still pitch black down to the whites, then the next thing you remember was the hardwood floor quickly rising up to meet you.

_____

It could've been seconds, minutes, hours; you didn't know. You blacked out and when you came to, you were bound to a chair in your brother's kitchen. There was something wrong with him, something not natural. He was soaked in that smell from the car, the rotting eggs and his eyes... Or was that your imagination? You still didn’t know. And that was another thing, your brother was never that strong but it felt as though his fingers had bluntly bruised your wrist down to the bone. How was that possible? And did you really just pass out because of a little blood? You tugged at the tape on your wrists but it didn't budge and you groaned, attracting your brother's attention.

"It's about time you woke up. I was getting impatient but we wouldn't want to start the fun without you present and accounted for, right?" Simon said, you weren't sure if he was addressing you or himself. He pulled up a chair in front of yours and sat on it backwards facing you with the biggest knife in the kitchen held in his hand. His eyes back to their natural colour. "I'm not gonna hurt you just yet, as long as you're a good little girl and do what I say. Got it?"

"Simon. What happened to you?" You asked, unconvinced by what you suspected was your mind playing tricks on you. "Why are you doing this?"

Simon mocked you in a degrading tone and you glared at him hard. His eyes flashing from their regular brown to pure black with a blink, a grin spreading across his face as you swallowed thickly. He was toying with you.

"What's wrong with your eyes?" You breathed, the question coming out of your mouth before you could stop it.

He looked like a monster. You couldn't still be hallucinating or imagining things, could you? But Simon was your brother and he was human just like everyone else, right? What else could he be?

"Aww, did your little boyfriend not tell you? I'm a demon, Y/N." He said. Was he talking about Dean?

"What the hell are you talking about? Demons aren't real." You scrunched up your face. You were getting irritable yourself and your shoulders were starting to ache from being tied behind the backrest of the chair. The supernatural was a fantasy like magic and fairy-tales, you didn’t understand why he was trying to convince you otherwise. "You're my brother, Simon, I know you. You've always protected me even when you're mad at me. You wouldn't touch a hair on my head and I'd bet my life on that."

"No?" He reached over, plucked a strand of hair from your head and tore it in two. "You were saying?"

"Just cut it out already, huh? This isn't funny anymore," your eyes welled with tears that you managed to blink away. All the emotions you'd felt simmering in your veins for the past twenty-four hours were finally bubbling to the surface. "Don't you think you've put me through enough already, leaving me on the side of the road like that."

"Funny, that actually was Simon." He snickered to himself mostly, "it's hard to break the bond between siblings, he managed to take control of his meat suit just long enough to save his baby sister. And yet, here you are whining about it. See he knew you were just a loose end for me... Although, now you might actually have some worth. Maybe I should keep you alive... for now." You didn’t want to know what he had in mind for you.

"Cut the crap, S-Simon-"

You were starting to have second thoughts on whether he was telling the truth or not. Maybe there was something to this demon thing.

"I. Am. Not. Simon." He snapped, harshly poking a finger to your forehead with every word. "Get that through your thick skull, little girl."

"You're freaking me out," you breathed, this time the tears fell from your eyes. You believed him, he wasn't Simon, not anymore. Whether he be an actual demon or not.

"You, you, you. It's always about you, isn't it?" He ranted, plunging the knife into the seat between your legs.

You let out a nervous breath when it just barely sliced through the jeans on your thigh. You felt a slight sting but ignored the pain as you watched him intently. He left the knife there lodged in the wood and you looked up at him teary eyed.

"At least, that's what your brother thinks."

"Untie me. Now!"

"More orders," he chuckled. "Where would be the fun in that, baby sister?"

"You are such an asshole." You hissed through gritted teeth.

"Demon, actually. Tell me, do you really think this is Simon speaking." He grabbed the knife again, wrenching it from the seat of the chair and brought it up to your cheek. A drop of blood running free when he nicked the skin over your cheekbone. "Simon slicing through your flesh. Maybe Simon just snapped, is that what you think?"

You flinched at the sound of his fingers snapping in your ear and he backed off to see the fear in your eyes before he continued.

"I suppose after what you put him through the past five years it's not entirely unlikely. You do know that he still blames you for your parents' death. Thinks about it everyday, every time he looks at you. You just had to have them at your college graduation, otherwise they never would've been on that particular highway, on that particular day. You're the reason he can't be happy, you're the reason why he'll never get married to that pretty little blonde, June. And remember that promotion he said he didn't get, he lied because he promised your parents' he'd always look after his baby sister. It would've taken him out of town too often and you needed him."

"You're lying." You whimpered, tears easily escaping and wetting your cheeks.

"You wish but being a demon gives me certain abilities. Being able to read your brother's mind while I wear him as a suit is one of them." The smile he gave you sent a chill down your spine and you sunk back into the chair, trying to create more space between you. "Things that go bump in the night are very real, Y/N. And if good old Dean really cared about you, he would've warned you. He should've stayed with you, seen you to the door at the very least. But instead you walked right back into the grasp of your demon big brother.” What the hell did Dean have to do with any of this? “You've always been a meek little thing, shy, and lacking determination, confidence, passion-"

"Screw you." You snapped, a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins and you spat in his face when he leaned in. "How's that for meek? You black-eyed bas-" 

"You bitch," he snarled, slapping you across the face and you tasted copper when the inside of your lip split. Heat and pain radiating and numbing the skin of your cheek. "Come on, Y/N/N. You've seen it in his eyes. The way he looks at you especially around this time of year."

You couldn’t deny the irrefutable truth any longer, the man sitting in front of you was not your brother. Sure, he looked the same and sounded the same, but it wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. You’d gotten into fights before with Simon as kids and if he ever did hurt you, which was only ever by accident, he would stop immediately to make sure you were okay.

This man didn’t give a shit about you and you refused to believe that that was still your brother. Besides, the lack of an explanation for the way his eyes unnaturally flipped to solid black at a moment’s notice was really starting to trouble you. Not to mention his new found strength and his entirely alternate personality. Demon made the most sense out of all other possibilities.

“I don't believe you," you said, although if you were being honest with yourself, you had seen that look in your brother's eyes before. Even if you didn't think he actually blamed you for what happened, you’d seen it cross his mind; hell, it even crossed yours from time to time. “Say I believe you, you’re a demon wearing my brother’s body as some sort of costume?”

“About time! Welcome to the party, Y/N.” He snickered, tapping your cheek with the side of the knife so it slapped against your skin but didn't cut. “I prefer to think of it as a meat suit but the implication’s the same.”

“And my brother is he-?”

"Oh, sweetheart-" you never thought you'd cringe at that endearment, but here you were. "-your brother is just fine, for the time being but test me and that will change. Now, tell me how well do you know the Winchesters? Did you get all comfy-cozy with Dean on your sleepover?" The demon questioned, back on the topic of Dean.

Sure the guy was good looking, kind, sweet, and the best kisser you’d ever had the pleasure of knowing but the demon's interest in him bordered on obsession, minus the undertone of jealousy. It confused and annoyed you.

“What the hell is your obsession with the Winchesters?” You asked, scrunching up your face.

“You really have no idea what you’ve stumbled into; do you, darling? The Winchesters are famous and no, not like movie star famous... more like infamous. At least in my line of work and if I could bring even one of their heads back to hell on a platter- oh, the praise I would get. Everyone would know and fear me and you see, baby sister, that’s every demon’s dream. So, what d’you say, wanna help a demon out?” He explained, you still didn’t understand but you weren’t about to do anything to hurt Dean or Sam.

“No thanks, I’m good.” You grinned sarcastically, tugging at your wrists again and managing to stretch the tape slightly.

“Wasn’t really a question, Y/N.” He growled, gripping your hair and forcing you to look him in the eye.

“I don’t really care.” You insisted, loving how easy it was to get on the demon’s nerves. Sure, you were still scared as fuck but adrenaline does something to you in a situation like that.

“Oh my, you are a hard headed one, aren’t you? Maybe you’ll care if I hurt your precious big brother,” the demon said, redirecting the knife to your brother’s throat playfully.

“Okay, okay. Just fucking stop.” You bit out but he just smiled back at you. He looked twisted, like he was an entirely different person; which technically, you supposed he was. “What do you want me to do?”

“All in due time, Y/N.” He grinned from ear to ear, satisfied that he’d finally broken you; found your weak spot, your brother. “Do you hear that? Lover boy’s back. Time to shine, baby sister.”

You didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, you didn’t hear anything, but you weren’t about to question it when he stood up and circled around you, cutting your wrists free. It was almost like he wanted you to run, you weren’t sure if it was a thrill-of-the-chase type of deal but you couldn’t not take the opportunity.

You made a break for the front door, tripping on the carpet along the way and scrambling to your feet as fast as you could. You ripped the door open and jumped down the steps sprinting down the path and glancing back to see if your brother was chasing after you. But you didn’t see him and ran straight into a solid body that grabbed onto your waist tightly.

You were about to scream when you saw who it was...

_________________________

A/N: Read Part 4 here

_________________________ 
 Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278​ @laycblack​

The Long Way Home: @dark-night-sky-99​

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