#another drabble that might become something longer someday | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cno-inbminor · 4 years ago

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domus

a/n: here we have another short drabble dump! i wrote this up very quickly -- i’m still working on that long fic i’ve been talking about! i apologize for taking so long to put it together. pls take this short fic as an apology for now. stay hydrated, wear your masks, and be safe! love you all so dearly <3

plot: when kuroo tetsuro drops the hard-hitting truth that he’s fallen out of love with you, your first thought is to escape. but you find comfort in the least likely person: akaashi keiji, a boy you had grown up with out of forced family interactions, who always seemed so distant from you. yet you probably knew more about him than anyone else.

characters: fem!reader, ex-bf!kuroo, & family friend!akaashi

wc: ~3.7k, will probably have other parts in the future.

genre/warnings: angst with dashes of fluff; mentions of alcohol

pt. 2 | pt. 3

edit: now crossposted to AO3!

When you’re in love, you spend weeks and months wondering why time won’t stop. You sit and ponder over why you’ll have to die someday and leave behind the person you’ve dedicated your entire soul to, or what might happen if your death came early and you didn’t get to say goodbye. You wonder why the seasons seem to pass you by so quickly, that in the blink of an eye, you go from enjoying a cup of iced tea on the porch to holding a mug of hot chocolate inside watching snowflakes swirl in their journeys to the ground.

But when love ceases to exist, time seems to stop. The days drag for longer, the seasons crawl at a turtle’s pace, and the inevitable end feels less terrifying. You no longer fear the eventual sagging of your skin or the spider legs that grow at the corners of your eyes. You no longer cling onto a hope that there will be a lover’s hand holding yours at your bed of eternal sleep. You simply become, just you. Solitary, single, independent you.

It’s no longer you and someone else. The realization stings so badly that it physically hurts you, a whimper leaving your throat. You shakily reach over for the next blouse and fight back the tears, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip. The skin is chapped and broken to the point that you would need layers and layers of chapstick to save any semblance of it, a terrible habit that you wish you hadn’t possessed. It’s muscle memory, the way you fold the blouse in half, fold the sleeves in, bending it over your arm before it lands in a neat stack of other tops in your suitcase. Your eyes take a glance at the clock, and you gather you have about another hour before you needed to leave for the airport and make it on time for your flight.

You ignore the male figure hunched over on the edge of your bed, tuning out his pleas and broken promises. He begs you to give him time, to implore that it’s all his fault and he’ll make it work for the two of you. Tetsuro promises that he didn’t mean to and that it wasn’t anything you did, but you feel so empty inside that you can’t even find the energy to argue, to turn on him and say that he was pretending to take all the blame so it’d be a better explanation to all your friends. A relationship involves both parties, and while there were special exceptions, this wasn’t one of them. Something was clearly wrong with you, and you were okay with that. You were just tired of Testuro attempting to take everything onto himself.

“I thought it’d be best to come clean with you,” he says, throat hoarse from lack of hydration. “I know you would question it and I haven’t done anything, I swear, I know you’re amazing and don’t deserve to live a lie and—”

“Do you want me to say ‘thank you’?” You interjected quietly, morosely. Your hands slide open the underwear drawer and take out a week’s worth of underwear, bras, and bralettes. “Do you want me to express my gratitude in your honesty for telling me that you don’t love me anymore? You can easily buy a trophy online and make the inscription yourself. ‘Most honest man alive’? Is that what you want?” You ask, tone flat and not possessing the least bit of amusement and humor.

“Can’t you give me some time? I’ll try, I’ll try to figure out what went wrong, and I can love you again. We can still get married and everything, but please don’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving forever, Tetsu. I’m just gone for a week, maybe more.”

“Where are you even going?”

“That’s none of your business,” you quickly reply, defenses back up as you make a beeline for the bathroom. You pick up all the toiletries you can, the ones that would be allowed in your carry-on. Strangers won’t care about your missing skincare routine and your complexion not looking its best.

“What if you get lost? Or kidnapped? What if people ask—”

“Easy. Just tell them I had a last minute business trip, family emergency, whatever floats your boat.”

“Can’t you see that I’m trying? I—”

“This isn’t just about you!” You snap, whirling around to look at him for the first time in the last hour or so. Testuro notices with a pang in his heart that your cheeks have sunken in slightly since he broke his revelation to you just last week, the eye circles darker than ever. But your eyes are soulless, dead, no shine or spark that he’d wake up to every morning even muddled with sleep.

“You can’t just expect me to be okay and continue to bend over backwards for you without question. The least you could do is give me my time, give me some space to think about all of it. That’s the bare minimum.”

And with that, you zip your suitcase shut, grab your passport (even though you probably don’t need it), keys, wallet, and phone, and walk as quickly as you can to the front door. The scheduled Uber will arrive in just a few minutes, and as you slip into a pair of flats, you can hear the creak of the bed and Testuro’s padded steps nearing you.

“Just be careful, okay? Call me if you need anything, anything. You’re still one of the most important people to me, so just – text me at some point. Let me know you’re alive at least.”

“You need to rest. You’re on call tomorrow,” you digress while opening the door.

“(Y/n)—”

“I’ll text you. Promise.”

And the door shuts behind you.

Your relationship with Akaashi Keiji is…hard to explain. In fact, you’re not even sure what to refer him as in your life. Anytime you spoke of him or attempted to explain, you’d fumble over words and draw blanks. While it was irritating and aggravating at times, you learned to just accept it.

Akaashi Keiji was the neighbor down the street, two years older, and someone who had known you since you were 8. Your moms were attached at the hip not longer after you moved to Tokyo, and that meant holidays were spent together, impromptu get-togethers and dinners were a common occurrence, and you saw him frequently at school. He was a quiet soul, gentle, but reserved. In fact, most of the things you knew about him were secondhand conversations from your mother talking about the family, because honestly his mom was basically your second mom now, and your mother trusted you with everything. His past, his troubles, his personality all relayed through your mom from his own, and when you saw him in the hallways, he wasn’t much of an enigma to you. Many other girls had found the mysterious air around him to be attractive, that the pretty setter who only ever smiled around his volleyball team and kept a tight circle of friends had something significant beneath the layers.

Keiji grew up with you, playing Smash on the Wii to pass time as your parents gossiped away. Sometimes, you’d play an intense game of Monopoly with him, a game that typically tipped in his favor. He never said much about himself, always relayed more about others that overlapped in your lives. The most he ever spoke to you about was when it came to teachers at school, even giving you some of his old notes and pointers. But even you could tell that he kept his guards up, and you wondered if he even classified you as a friend.

Your go-to explanation of Keiji’s standing in your life was a family friend. But that insinuated you were close with him, which you weren’t at all. No matter how many times he walked home with you (mainly at the pushing from his mother), no matter how many times he was forced to entertain you at dinners and holidays, no matter how many times he gave you a small smile in school, there was such a large gap between the two of you. He always seemed so different around his team, like they had the privilege of knowing the real him, and at times, you felt…jealous.

And the weird thing is that you can rely on him somehow – whether it be because he’d get an earful from his parents if he didn’t help you when you asked it or out of the goodness of his heart, he was simply always there. Sometimes, you were bold enough to text him about a show he talked about in the past, and he would reply quickly as if your unexpected, rare text about something benign didn’t faze him at all.

Yet despite the distance, despite the lack of any semblance of an actual friendship with him, he was the first one you thought of when all this happened. He was the one you wanted to see – maybe it’s because he was the closest thing to home, and you didn’t want to go back to your parents explaining everything. It’s been a while since you’ve been back in Tokyo, ever since you moved to Sapporo for your job and Testuro got matched for a residency at a hospital there.

At 7PM on a Friday afternoon, past the baggage claim with the sunset beaming in through the sliding glass doors, you stare at Keiji’s contact on your phone, thumb hovering hesitantly over the call button. You could count the number of times you’ve called him on one hand, but this was an emergency, right? Is this why your heart is pounding against your chest, so anxious that you feel like you’ll break into a cold sweat any time soon?

You jump into the deep end.

Your hand nervously brings the phone to your ear, waiting with bated breath as the dial tone echoes in the chamber of your brain. Part of you wants him to miss the call so you can avoid this awkward conversation, but another part of you desperately wants him to pick up as if he’ll be able to save you.

Oh god oh god oh god, you panic as the tone stops, there’s a pause, a rustle, and then a hesitant, “—Hello?”

You didn’t plan this out. You’re not ready for this. Shit, what are you supposed to say?

“—hello? (Y/n)?”

“Have you had dinner yet?”

Wow, you’re a terrible conversationalist.

“…um, I haven’t actually. I was about to warm up some leftovers?”

Your eyes focus on the taxis driving by, picking up passengers as they get waved down. Maybe you should just find a cheap hotel nearby, continue this conversation tomorrow.

“Well…I’m in town, actually. I just landed about 30 minutes ago and realized I didn’t have anywhere to go and I don’t really want to call anyone else and I don’t exactly know who else to call so I just, um, thought about calling you and asking if you’ve had dinner? Which if you’re busy and stuff, that’s totally fine, I should’ve texted you beforehand instead of springing this on you and—”

“(Y/n), it’s okay, alright? It’s okay. I’m not busy, so you can stop by. Did my mom ever give you my address?”

Keiji’s brief attempt to calm you down works, surprisingly. You allow yourself to take a deep breath despite the stale airport air, but it was some much-needed oxygen. This is going to be okay, Keiji doesn’t hate you quite yet.

“N-no, she never did.”

“That’s fine, I’ll text it to you. My place is about 30 minutes from the airport, I’d recommend getting a taxi instead of an Uber. I’ll order some delivery—”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“You still like the miso ramen from that shop not far from your house, right? They opened up a second store not far from where I live.”

How did he remember that? You’re pretty sure your own mother had forgotten that fact by now.

“Y-yeah, I do,” you smile to yourself. “I still think about it sometimes.”

“Sounds good then. Get here safely then.”

“Okay. Thank you loads again. I’m sorry for all this—”

“Don’t worry about it. Keep me updated, see you later.”

“Yeah, bye.”

Not 30 seconds later, a text arrives to your phone with an address, a keycode for getting past the main door, and other relevant instructions.

Keiji’s apartment is exactly as you expect it to be – prim, proper, neat almost to a fault, with minimalist decorations. The apartment complex he lives in is rather high-end, if the security guards standing outside the main entrance indicated anything. You almost feel completely out of place or like a bug on the wall as you step in after him, a rather comfortable silence between the two of you. His kitchen is spotless and almost sparkles back at you, and the only thing that seems out of place are the containers of your ramen he so kindly ordered for you.

“Your place is really nice, it’s really…you,” you comment, setting your stuff down at the door. Keiji indulges you with a quiet laugh, making sure that there wasn’t anything that would be in your way. His glasses are perched on his head, an old monochrome t-shirt on his shoulders and sweatpants hung low on his hips, yet in this apartment that almost seems like it should be in an interior design magazine, he looks at home. His ethereal beauty, the softness in his eyes, the gentle up-turned strands of his hair – he belonged here.

“The ramen came not too long ago, so it’s still hot. I’ll go ahead and put it together, you can put your jacket on the couch.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Instead, you fold your jacket over your suitcase and quietly make your way into the apartment. Straight across from you are doors to a balcony – darkness had long taken over the city, so you see nothing but your reflection at first. But as you near the plexiglass, the reflection disappears into the view and you almost gasp from the beauty of it.

Blinking lights, flashing billboards, and the brightly lit Tokyo Skytree peer back at you. It only hits you now how much you’ve missed home, and that even though Sapporo was one of the largest cities in Japan, it still wasn’t Tokyo.

“I never get tired of it,” Keiji chimes in while carrying your bowl of ramen to the dining table.

“It’s an amazing view, I can see why you’d live here,” you reply while moving away from it. The table also has two empty wine glasses, and just as you’re about to ask him why they were there, he returns with a newly opened bottle of chardonnay.

“I haven’t had a lot of time to restock the wine fridge, but I knew I was going to kick myself for not having a bottle of that dessert wine we had before you went off to college,” he said with mirth and amusement. “You remember that one?”

“Yeah,” you nearly splutter, almost flushing that once again, Keiji was remembering details about you that you didn’t even know. “Your mom wanted to throw me a graduation dinner and you made it back in time after finals. And she had a bottle of it and between the two of us, we probably drank most of it. Our parents said it was too sweet.”

He nods and sits across from you, elbows on the table as you mutter, “Itadakimasu,” and start eating. You finish your meal silently for the most part, making small talk here and there. Keiji refills both of your glasses and the two of you sip the wine demurely, and while he seems okay with the lack of an explanation, you’re struggling to find the right words.

“So what’s with the impromptu trip to Tokyo? Are you going to see your parents?”

“Should I try to lie to you?”

“It’s up to you.”

Oh, okay then.

But he looks expectant, as if he knows you wouldn’t lie to him – in fact, you’ve never lied to him before. There was never any need to, but did that just mean neither of you ever cared enough?

“Something happened with me and Testuro. I don’t want to bore you with the details, but at the end of the day…I just needed to get away, as cliché as it sounds,” you laugh brokenly. Keiji continues to carefully observe you with a stare that you can’t escape. “I don’t want to tell my parents – you know them, they’ll ask a million questions. Without thinking, I booked a ticket to Tokyo and…now I’m here.”

That was a lie. How are you supposed to tell Keiji that he was the first person you thought of in an effort to run away? You and Keiji have never gotten personal before, he made sure of that. The last thing you want to do is weird him and scare him off.

“…did he cheat on you?” Keiji asked. His voice is darker in his inquiry, deeper than you’ve ever heard before. He has his hands folded in front of his lips and his eyes harden. Testuro may be an old friend to him, but you were in his life longer.

“Nonononono,” you quickly wave off. This isn’t the time to slander your…boyfriend? Could Tetsuro still even be your boyfriend if he no longer has any feelings for you? “Nothing like that.”

“That’s good to hear. If you want, you can tell me another time then. You’re welcome to stay here until you go back to Sapporo.”

You look up at him, eyes incredulous. Could Keiji really be this comfortable with you?

“I wouldn’t mind staying tonight, but I can stay in a hotel for the rest of the week that I’m here.”

“Nonsense,” Keiji refutes, standing from the table and taking your wine glasses to the sink. You follow with your bowl and he starts washing them before you can even offer. “Mom would kill me if she knew I let you pay for a hotel when I have a perfectly functioning bed you can stay in.”

“I mean, if it’s not a bother…”

“It’s not. The futon’s pretty comfortable, I’ve definitely fallen asleep on it plenty of times.”

“We can switch, I would never let you sleep on the futon for a whole week.”

“If you say so then. But for tonight, you can take my bed. Let me grab you an extra towel so you can shower. I’m sure you’ve had a long day,” he says while drying everything off, folding the kitchen towel neatly before heading off to his room. He returns with a large, soft grey towel and you shyly take it from him with a word of thanks, but he stays there in front of you, waiting for something.

“I’m really glad you picked up the phone,” you whisper softly, feeling the effects of the alcohol. You’re entering uncharted territory for the two of you, and this could either kill or strengthen this odd distant friendship. “I meant it when I said I didn’t know who else to call. You were the first person that came to mind and just…I don’t want to make this weird, like you can kick me out,” you begin to ramble. “Don’t feel like you’re obligated to take me in because your mom would be disappointed if you wouldn’t, you’ve already put up with me for over 15 years and it’s fine, I can be on my own and—”

Smooth, calloused hands delicately hold your face, large palms and nimble fingers cupping your cheeks. Your words die on your tongue as Keiji stares straight into your eyes, holding your gaze until your breathing calms down to a steady, languid pace. “You’re my friend, (y/n). So it’s good that you called me.”

“I’m your…friend?” You ask unsteadily, feeling a sense of disbelief.

“Yeah,” he confirms with the corners of his lips turning up slightly. “We’re friends.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Now go shower.”

“Okay.”

You’re fast asleep before Keiji finishes his own shower, his bedroom door left ajar as the hallway light beams through. He pauses in the midst of drying his hair with a towel, letting it bunch and hang off his neck as he cautiously pushes the door open. Keiji notices your even breathing and how much more relaxed you look in sleep. You’re curled up on your side with the blanket pulled up to your face and he can’t lie: it’s adorable and cute, and he shouldn’t really be thinking these things.

He sits on the edge of the bed in the little space that’s provided, lithe fingers reaching out to brush back a few stray wisps of your hair. Watching you sleep pulls him back into a fond memory he’s kept of the two of you, one that might’ve held very little significance to you but meant something so much more to him. He knows you know him well, he knows how much his mother babbles on about him, and adults were more prone to gossip than the rowdiest of teenagers – he’d be painfully oblivious if he didn’t think you knew that much about him, or more than the average friend.

But it’s comforting to him, sometimes. Knowing you, how kindly you think of others, he might not have to explain what he’s feeling in the moment. You would be able to know, and that soothes him to some degree.

Maybe he had a little bit too much wine as well, but ever so subtly, motions steady and unhurried, he deftly leans closer and closer until his lips brush the apple of your cheek. He lingers for no more than a few seconds and sits back up, gazing at you before standing. His hands adjust the blankets and make sure you’re properly tucked in. He pads away, shutting the door behind him as quietly as possible as to not wake you.

And when he’s found a comfortable position on the futon with his most comfortable throw blanket, he realizes, begrudgingly, that this week will fly by too fast for his liking.

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spnfanficpond · 4 years ago

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Pond Diving - Queen-of-deans-booty

Welcome to today’s Pond Diving Spotlight! We hope that you enjoy this little insight to our members and perhaps even find some useful tips for your own writing. Happy reading!

Want to volunteer, send us an ask! We’re looking forward to learning more about all of you! Not sure what PD is, you can learn more here.

“Don’t Be Koi About It” - All About You

Name: Jordan

Age: 23

Location: Arizona, USA

URL: @queen-of-deans-booty

Why did you choose your URL: Honestly, Dean is the first person I liked on SPN and his ass is so tight and I believe all women are queens so that’s why.

What inspired you to become a writer: I remember reading a book in middle school about vampires, and it’s the first book I remember reading that made me feel all sorts of emotions that books never used to do for me before then. It amazed me to feel these things from a book, and I realized that I wanted to do that for other people someday, thus, is why I became a writer.

How long have you been writing: Gosh, since 8th grade. Might have been a little bit before that, but I remember in 8th grade writing a full book at 20k words, which if I might say, is impressive for a thirteen-year-old.

What do you do when you are not writing i.e. Job/Hobbies etc? I actually am a security guard at a chemical plant. There is some down time to this job, and I try to spend it writing. I even gush to my boss about the stories I write and where I post, and he is all for supporting me about it. When I am not working or writing, then I am either watching Criminal Minds, Manifest, and movies while in my room. With this COVID thing going on right now, I barely leave my house as it is xD

How long have you been in the SPN Fandom? Since season 11 was on TV. It was actually after season 11 had ended and before season 12 had started, so in that four-month span, I managed to watch 11 seasons.

Are you in any other fandoms and do you write for them? Yes! I am in the Marvel and Criminal Minds fandom! I used to be in The Vampire Diaries fandom, but I lost my passion for it so I knew my writing was suffering, so I stopped it. I am doing series rewrites for all three of my fandoms along with one-shots and drabbles!

Do you do any writing outside of fanfiction? If so, tell us about it? Yes, I try to. I took a NaNoWriMo class in college that made me write my first real book, so that is exciting. I also took fiction classes that made me write poems and short stories. I do want to get into writing more original fiction, but right now, I am focusing more on fanfiction.

Favorite published author: I love Riley Sager, B.A. Paris, James Patterson, Ruth Ware, and there are specific books I adore, but they aren’t from the authors I mentioned. I tend to like books rather than authors.

Have you ever read a book that made an impact on your life? Which one and why?: Vampire Kisses by Ellen Schreiber. That's the book that I mentioned about inspiring me to write, and I dedicate my love for writing to her.

Favorite genre of fanfic (smut, angst, fluff, crack, rpf, etc): I really enjoy reading fluff, but I enjoy writing angst because I feel I can have a lot more emotions and feels when I write angst.

Favorite piece of your own writing: My SPN series rewrite. I am currently planning season 7, and I am in the process of releasing season 6. I have gotten so many good reviews of it, and that fuels my passion for it.

Most underrated fic you have written: I can’t think of any at the top of my head. I tend not to look back on my own writing too much. I’ll have an overwhelming need to rewrite it and fix it up, and I don’t need that right now xD

Story of yours that you’d most like to see turned into a movie/tv show: Is it bad to say my series rewrite? It’s already a show, but I’d like to see my version of the show. If I can’t pick that, then my original fiction novel that I wrote that has over 70k words. That would be pretty cool.

Favorite Tumblr Writer(s): @impala-dreamer, @torn-and-frayed, @crispychrissy, @kittenofdoomage, @acreativelydifferentlove, @saxxxology, and there are others, but those are some of the people that come to mind.

Favorite fic from another writer: Can I mention a few? Rock, Paper, Scissors by @impala-dreamer, The Curious Incident of Episode 14x09 by @luci-in-trenchcoats, On the Road by @notnaturalanahi, Cherry Surprise by @crispychrissy, A Change of Scenery by @cass-trash, and On the Case Files (Criminal Minds fandom) by @hotchnerfuckmeup.

Favorite character to write: For Supernatural, it’ll have to be Dean Winchester. For Marvel, it’ll have to be either Loki or Bucky. For Criminal Minds, it’ll have to be Spencer Reid

Favorite Pairing to write: I only write reader-inserts so the characters don’t really matter as long as it’s x reader.

Least favorite character to write (and why): For Supernatural, it’s Crowley. I don’t know why, but I can never seem to get him right. He’s more sadistic and hardcore sometimes and I just can’t get that right.

Do you have anyone you consider a mentor? I don’t really have anyone right now. It used to be my teachers/professors, but I graduated and I don’t see them anymore.

Do you have any aspirations involving your writing? I want to be a published author. That’s all I want. I want to see my books on the shelves, and I’d also love to be a fiction editor! I can’t do anything right now because of COVID, but hopefully one day!

How many work-in-progress stories do you have: More than I can count right now. Like seriously, I probably have over 100. I have a bunch of bingo cards that I have ideas for, but I have so many that they all just pile on. There will come a time when I get through all of them, but I don’t know when.

What are you currently working on? Right now? Some requests and my spn series rewrite.

“Pond Diving” - All About The Writing

What/who has had the biggest influence on your writing? Like I mentioned above, it’s Ellen Schreiber. She is the one person that made me want to become a writer. Also, all my followers on all of my blogs. They are the truest influencers because they are what gives me passion for my writing.

Best writing advice you've been given: Write as if you’re the only audience. I’ve learned that if you don’t like what you’re writing about, then your audience will certainly see it. You can’t please everyone, so please yourself. There will always be someone who loves your writing for what it is, so don’t go changing it to please others.

Biggest obstacle you’ve faced in your writing: Trying to pace myself. I’ve heard of people spending two or three days (or even longer) on a fic. It’s either all or nothing with me. I either spend two or three hours on a fic and complete it right there and then, or I don’t write it at all. Pacing is an issue for me, and I am always trying to spend longer on a fic. I guess I just type really fast, I don’t know.

What aspects of writing do you find difficult when you write fanfiction? I find that trying to keep the character as canon as possible is most difficult. While it’s not always super hard, it does have its moments. All fanfiction are AUs, so it’s okay to change the characters to make them your own. While I don’t think one should make them the complete opposite if they are wanting to stay within canon, I do believe it’s okay to change a few things around.

Is there anything you want to write but are afraid to (and why): I want to write ships. Now that I think about it, I’m not quite sure why I don’t write them. Maybe it’s time that I start.

What inspires/motivates you to write: Feedback!!! Reader’s don’t always see it, but every piece of feedback I get makes me want to write. I do better knowing there are actual people out there that are looking forward to what I write. I do better knowing that real people are reading them and judging it. I do my best knowing that there is an audience. If I don’t get feedback, then that motivation just goes away.

How do you deal with self doubt: I’m not so sure I always do. There is always a voice in the back of my mind telling me that my stories are complete and utter shit, and I shouldn’t bother writing anything. It’s why I take a step back from writing so often. When I first started my blog, I came out with fics every single day. I was always writing new stories. Now, I may get a story out per week. Maybe two per week. I know when it’s time to take a break for a few days because it gives that voice time to calm down. My best advice for someone dealing with self doubt is to just take a break. Separate yourself from the thing that your mind is telling you that you suck at. Take care of you before jumping back into it. Trust me, it helps.

How do you deal with writer's block: Kind of the same thing as I mentioned above. I have suffered from writer’s block a lot more than in my earlier years. Sometimes, I just don’t have the motivation or the passion to write, and I just get so mad at myself for not doing it. One of the things that help me is writing down my ideas. Yeah, I get ideas that float in my head about stories I’d like to write, but actually writing them down makes them concrete. Then, I am able to make notes and side notes and notes of my notes about what I’d like to happen, and before I know it, I’m writing it.

Do you plan/outline your story before you start: ALWAYS! Always, always, always plan your writing, especially if you’re doing a series. It’s good to know what is going on in your story. You don’t always have to follow it to the exact detail (you’re allowed to make changes as you go), but having a plan makes it easier to get through your story. You’re able to look back at it and remind yourself why you're writing that exact scene or if something needs to be added or taken away from it. If you have a plan, then you’re less likely to lose that passion since you know what’s going to happen. You’re able to see the finish line well before you start.

Do you have any weird writing habits: This may be weird, but I like to listen to Got U On by Darci feat. Nessly, Highest in the Room by Travis Scott, some music by Juice WRLD, and other loud rap songs. Don’t ask me why, but I find the music soothing when I write. Those rap songs sound the same to me, and their voices just drown out so I’m just listening to the music. There are other kinds of music I listen to like piano instrumentals and rain/thunder sounds, but it’s really any song I can tune out.

Have you ever received hateful comments on your fic and how do you deal with it? I don’t want to sound arrogant or snobby, but I can honestly say I’ve never received one hateful comment on anything I’ve written (knock on wood xD). I’ve only received good things about my stories, and I think it has something to do with how much good energy I am putting into the world. I believe in karma, and I tend to be nice to everyone regardless of who they are, and I think it comes back to the kind of comments I receive. However, I always think about what I’d do or say if I’ve ever gotten a hate comment. I wouldn’t encourage them to send more hate, but I wouldn’t apologize either. I write the stories I write because it makes me happy. If they don’t like it, they can go somewhere else. Though, I know those hate comments can get to some people, and here is what I have to say about that: remind yourself of when you actually wrote the fic. If you were truly happy about it, then it shouldn’t matter what that person says. You love it, and that’s all that matters.

Conversely: what’s been some of your favorite feedback on your fanfic? I have to pick a favorite? XD I have an album in my phone of screenshots I took of my favorite comments left by my followers. I’ve been compared to John Green, there have been comments that thank me for giving them an escape from their realities, people have told me they want to write just like me someday, people have told me that my work has made them smile and get chills, that my stories are the highlight of their week, and a bunch of other stuff. I am just shocked that there are people out there who think this. It means so much to me, and I get tears when I read them because this is literally my dream. I can’t thank my followers enough for the comments they leave, and this is exactly why it’s so important to leave feedback.

If you could give one piece of advice to a new and/or struggling writer, what would it be? Write for you. I can’t stress this enough. I’ve mentioned it before, and I’m going to mention it again. If you’re not happy, it will show through your writing. Your audience will see it based on how you word things and your flow of ideas. On another note, please brush up on your grammar. I can’t tell you how many times I read such an interesting summary, and noticed the story was full of grammatical mistakes. It made me not want to read it anymore. I’m sure it was a great story, but I didn’t want to put myself through that just to read it.

#pond diving #spnfanficpond

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aswallowssong · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Fine

In which Spencer is once again hiding the fact that he doesn’t feel well. The Big Kid Squad conspires to play a sneaky game from James’s “nerd-camp” to get their youngest to cooperate, but as most things do when you’re seventeen, it blows up in their faces. It’s okay though. James Blake is the dad no one expected him to be.

This drabble is based in @themetaphorgirl‘s Patron Saints AU (Patron Saint of Lost Causes), which is AMAZING and YOU SHOULD READ.

Read on AO3

------

In retrospect, they all should have seen it coming. It tended to start the same way. The eye rubbing always came first, as if the nine year old was trying to physically remove the discomfort sprouting there. Then there was the lack of chatter; the quiet that was so unlike their youngest member that even Emily and Dave started to get uneasy, instead of enjoying the fleeing silence.

By the time he hit the stage of general grumpiness and irritability, everyone knew exactly what was going on.

Spencer got sick all the time. It wasn’t new. It wasn’t surprising.

It was, however, really starting to bother the Big Kids that he would vehemently deny, deny, deny until he was melting down, and someone was physically scraping him off the floor.

And that was how they found themselves having a pre-movie night “Big Kids” meeting in the lounge while Derek, Penelope, and JJ kept Spencer distracted. Their youngest had almost thrown a fit when Hotch had said that no, he couldn’t stay with them, and no, they couldn’t just pretend he wasn’t there. He’d been assured that Penelope needed him for a very special craft, and while he’d pouted and grumbled, he hadn’t melted down. Not yet.

“I can’t do this,” Emily said, toying with the bracelets on her arms. “I can’t tiptoe like this all the time.”

“It’s not all the time,” Hotch said defensively from his spot on the floor, “It’s just when he’s being… you know.” He gestured vaguely, making it very apparent he didn’t quite know himself.

“When he doesn’t feel well,” Alex said gently, shifting her position on the couch to press closer to James. She hated when Spencer struggled, and judging by the way he’d become more and more irritable over the last two days, the weekend would be a struggle in and of itself.

“He’s literally sick all the time!” Emily shot back. “I love him, you guys know I do, but really? He could say something before he’s a ticking time bomb of grumpy, crying illness.”

“I don't know,” Dave said from his place in the armchair, “He’s made it pretty clear he just wants to be left alone.”

“Yeah, and we see how well that goes,” she countered.

Hotch sighed loudly, running a hand down his face. Spencer had ended up in his bed the night before, sometime around three in the morning, and he’d been too tired to confront the issue then. He’d have done it once he woke up, but by that time the child was gone.

It was made very clear at breakfast when Spencer denied that it had even happened that they were really in for it.

There was quiet between the five of them for a minute before James said thoughtfully, “Well. We could have him play.”

“Absolutely not,” Alex said as Dave quickly shook his head and said, “Not a chance.”

Hotch and Emily exchanged a look before Hotch looked to James.

“I’m lost. Play what?”

“There’s this game the three of us play called I’m Fine-”

“Spencer is way too smart for I’m Fine, Jamie.” Alex said, shifting away from him to look him full in the face.

James raised an eyebrow.

“You and Dave and I play I’m Fine. We have for years. He might be a genius, but no one is too smart for I’m Fine.”

“What the fuck are you all going on about?” Emily asked, arms crossing over her chest.

Dave chuckled quietly. “I’m Fine is a game James made us start playing Sophomore year that he learned from some girl at his nerd summer camp.”

“Hey!” James said, though he didn’t look offended. He was grinning. “Going to HOSA camp was cool! Kit taught it to our whole camp crew, and you guys like I’m Fine, so don’t bash.”

“Please,” Hotch said, just a bit loudly. “Will someone explain this game? And how you think it’s going to help with the Spencer issue?”

The three seniors looked at each other for a moment before Alex gestured, sighing quietly.

“Go ahead, Jamie, but I don’t think it’s going to work.”

James already had a grin on his face.

“Okay! When I was at HOSA camp between Freshman and Sophomore year - shut up, Dave! - I was on a crew with the girl named Kit from Vermont. She was in the healthcare pathways track at her high school, and none of that is really all that important, but she taught us this game they play in her cadre.”

“Which,” Dave said, one finger held in the air to cut off James mid-thought, “Is objectively not actually a game.”

“It is a game!” James defended. “There is a winner and there’s a loser. And there’s rules. How is it not a game?”

“I don’t care!” Emily said, hands gesturing wildly in the air as she grew more agitated. “Just keep going. We aren’t going to have them distracted very much longer.”

“Okay, okay,” James said, “so basically here’s what you do.”

It took a few minutes, but once James had laid out the rules, Alex shook her head gently.

“It only works for the three of us because we all agree to play. We’ve all agreed to play for years now. It’s more of a pleasantry anyway. Spencer’s too smart, he’ll see right through us.”

“I don’t know,” Hotch said, “Spencer is really competitive. And, he’s nine. He’ll probably miss the part where it’s only sort-of a game-”

“Hey!”

“And he’ll think he can trick us.”

“Or he’ll think he’s smarter than us,” Emily said, “He already does most of my homework. There’s no way he’ll be willing to admit we can outsmart him. And he’s been saying he’s fine for days, it’ll be easy to get him to say it again.”

They all looked to Alex, and after a moment she nodded, fiddling with the bow that had started to slip out of her hair.

“Okay. We can try, but if this doesn’t work, you all need to figure out another way to get him to admit he feels terrible. I don’t want this to end with a meltdown.”

James grinned, squeezing her upper arm gently, victory already in his eyes.

“Oh, this is going to work. You’ll see.”

-----

“I don’t wanna watch Toy Story,” Spencer whined. His voice was raspy, as if it physically pained him to grumble about the offending Disney movie.

They’d only gotten the Baby Squad back ten minutes before, and Spencer was in full-grump mode. He had pouted when Alex suggested he cuddle with her on the couch, insisting that he “wasn’t a baby” and “I want to sit on the floor!”

That’s exactly where he was, back pressed against Dave's armchair. His blanket had been retrieved by Alex and was on the couch, but when Hotch had offered it to him he’d nearly taken the older boy’s head off.

“It’s JJ’s turn to pick, and she wants to watch Toy Story,” Alex said patiently, frowning while looking at how pale he was under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the seventh floor lounge.

“But we watched Toy Story twenty three days ago!” He whined, louder than before. Dave noticeably winced at the sound.

A piece of popcorn flew across the room and hit Spencer just above his left eye. “Then when it’s your turn after JJ, don’t pick Toy Story,” Derek said, smirking just slightly at his own joke.

“But I don’t want to watch it at all!”

JJ rolled her eyes, but otherwise seemed unbothered by what was happening. She knew Spencer was sick. She knew the Big Kids would fix it. And she knew that Buzz and Woody didn’t really care about the grumbling nine year old behind her.

Hotch, however, raised an eyebrow, watching Spencer with new intensity.

He did genuinely look terrible. It wasn’t them being overprotective, or Emily being agitated. Spencer had been avoiding them all day, and now that they had a good look at him, it was easy to see why.

The baby of their group was as white as a sheet, save for the fever red flush across his cheeks. He was shaking too, though it was unsure if that was from the grumpy rage he was sending towards the TV, or because he was trembling as fever chills snaked up his spine. How the shadows under his eyes were so dark, considering he was out like a light when Hotch had found them sharing the older boy’s mattress, could be anyone’s guess.

There were probably things the others didn’t notice that James would, what with him so desperately and intentionally trying to become a doctor someday. That’s why James was the cornerstone of their plan. They just had to get all the right conditions.

“Spencer,” Hotch warned gently as the younger boy whined about Toy Story for probably the seventeenth time, “You’re being rude. JJ is allowed to pick whatever she wants.”

“I’m not! Toy Story is a stupid pick! She picked it last time!”

Hotch sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. He turned to make eye contact with Alex, and when he nodded, she got up from her spot on the couch.

She quietly knelt next to Spencer, right at the foot of Dave’s chair, and spoke just a bit louder than she normally would when she was trying to calm him down.

“Baby, are you sure you don’t want to come sit on the couch?”

“I’m not a baby, Alex!” Spencer whined, like a baby. “I wanna sit here on the floor! Like everyone else! You aren’t bothering anyone else!”

She worried at her lip for a second before sighing, turning to face James, and finally nodding.

“Spencer…” She said even more gently, pressing further when James nodded back, and moving to push his bangs off of his forehead, “are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine!” He shrieked, trying to swat her hand away.

Bingo.

Alex backed off as James leaned forward from his position on the couch.

“Hey, Spence,” he said gently.

James had a totally different approach to Spencer than the rest of the Big Kids. Alex had agitated him, but when he turned to look at James, his body language softened. James was goofy and usually didn’t treat Spencer like a baby, so he was the perfect candidate for their pseudo-intervention.

“What?” Spencer asked, though his tone was still harsh. It wasn’t as aggressive as it had been with Alex, though, so James pressed on.

“Do you want to play a game?”

There was a moment in which Spencer was quiet before his nose scrunched, squinting up at James with suspicion.

“I… I don’t…” He started, resolve almost cracking before any plan needed to be enacted at all. Then, there was a loud yell from the offending movie. Spencer sighed angrily, rubbing at his eyes fervently. “Anything is better than Toy Story.”

“Great,” James said evenly, “so you’ll play?”

“What game?”

The Big Kids seemed to collectively hold their breath, waiting for James to explain and hoping it wouldn’t all blow up in their faces.

Penelope and Derek had lost interest in the television, much more interested in what was going to happen now between Spencer and the Big Kids. JJ didn't seem to mind that no one else was watching, shoving handfuls of popcorn in her face and minding her own business as Woody and Buzz bantered back and forth.

"It's called I'm Fine,” James said simply.

Spencer squinted further, as if the glasses were doing nothing for him.

"That sounds stupid,” came his raspy whine, and Hotch audibly sighed.

Emily's eyes widened a bit, glancing to where Dave was sitting, and then to Penelope, who was swatting at JJ’s arm in an attempt to pry her attention away from the movie and onto the battle that was clearly unfolding right in their very lounge.

Alex's arms were crossed, lips pursed. She wore an expression that showed exactly how happy she was about the whole situation, and she was only going to be satisfied once it was all over and Spencer was cuddled in her arms.

"You haven't heard the rules yet. It's... a brain game," James offered, not at all affected by Spencer's tone and demeanor. If anything, he seemed to soften more to it.

Spencer shifted on the floor, clearly uncomfortable but not willing to move from his defiant choice.

"It is?"

"Sure. I'll tell you the rules and you can decide if you want to play me."

Now Spencer sat forward on his haunches.

"I'm gonna play you? In a brain game?" He sounded unimpressed as he rasped his skepticism.

Dave snorted from behind Spencer, not trying very hard to mask his amusement, but James still sat, unphased, and simply nodded at the grumpy nine year old in front of him.

"Yeah, you're gonna play me in a brain game."

"Okay, I like winning. Tell me the rules."

James sat back a little, biding his time. He knew the longer he waited Spencer out, the more tired he would get, and the easier the game would be.

"Well, the game usually starts when someone says "I'm fine," after someone else asks if they're feeling okay."

Spencer's eyes flashed with suspicion again.

"But I am fine."

"Right. That's what you said. So now, the game starts. Normally the person who asks if you're sick get's to play with you, and that's Alex, but I figured you'd maybe want to play with me instead. Is that what you want?"

Spencer looked up at Alex for a moment, seemingly weighing their intelligence against one another in his mushy, grumpy fever brain.

"I'd rather play you."

"You wanna play me?"

Spencer's eyebrows tugged together.

"I just said that."

"You have to say it officially. No take-backsies."

Spencer stared at him for a moment with the sort of incredible distaste that can only come from an ill child.

"That's stupid."

"Spencer. Rude," Hotch reprimanded gently, but James held a hand up.

"No, it's fine. Those are the rules, Spence, stupid or not."

Spencer rolled his eyes and sighed in a huff.

"Fine, yes, James , I want to play you and not Alex."

James grinned, nodding and humming quietly.

"Great. So here's how we play. I get to guess up to five symptoms you might be having, you know, because I think you're feeling pretty crummy."

"I'm-"

"I know, you're fine. That's what you said, anyway. So I get to guess, and if I get three right, you have to give in, and let mama over there in on how you're really feeling."

Spencer seemed to deflate, arms crossing around his midsection, paling further if possible.

"But I'm... fine." He frowned, seeming to not quite understand what was going on.

"Right. So that's the other part. If I get three or more wrong, we'll all leave you alone. You're fine. We'll let you be."

James sat back fully on the couch now, done with his part. Now it was up to Spencer to take the bait.

All eyes were on the nine year old, even JJ's, as he fidgeted and rubbed at his eyes roughly. He finally looked up at James and said, "You have to get three?"

"Yep. More than half."

"And if I win... you'll all leave me alone?"

The question was clearly more directed at Alex and Hotch, his eyes even darting up to the older girl nervously.

Alex nodded, head dipping towards James.

"If you win, we'll all leave you alone. But if Jamie wins, you have to let go, baby," she said gently, words feather light on the top of the thick, tense air that now blanketed the room.

Spencer now narrowed his eyes not at James, but Alex.

"I'm not a baby," he said with an air of finality that would have been intimidating if it wasn't obvious now that he was most certainly trembling.

"Great," James said, "ready to start?"

"Start?"

"Well, ready for me to guess, I guess."

James tilted his head in a way that was searching, but not confrontational. It took a minute, but Spencer gave the smallest nod.

Hotch, was quite frankly, amazed that Spencer was so competitive that he was about to let himself be called out. He also took a small moment to be thankful that Spencer was nine years old, and not fourteen, and that even though he was a genius, he really only had the processing power a nine year old's brain development could offer.

"Okay, so I'm going to guess that you have a fever, based on flush and shaking alone. If you don't, I’ll be more concerned, actually.”

When Spencer frowned and curled into himself slightly, eyes downcast, James offered a small smile. He shifted on the couch and patted the spot next to him. “You can come up here if you want.”

Spencer shook his head quickly, and then stopped with just as much force. Everything was too bright and the carpet was too scratchy on his fever-sensitive skin. He was cold, too, even though he was already wearing a sweater of Hotch's that absolutely dwarfed him. His stomach hurt and his head hurt and everything hurt and he just wanted to be held.

But he wasn't a baby. They always treated him like a baby and he could handle himself just fine. He was fine.

He shut his eyes tightly, taking a deep breath before he spoke in a weak voice.

“No. I want… I want to be on the floor. I’m not a baby.”

“I’m not a baby, and I’m not on the floor,” Emily offered, and Spencer didn’t even open his eyes to respond.

“Emily, you can’t solve basic trigonometric functions, you are a baby.”

Derek masked his laughter by clearing his throat, and Penelope by shoving a handful of popcorn in her mouth, but Dave laughed at Emily’s annoyed glare openly.

James didn't break stride for a second. "I'd also guess you've got a headache. You're rubbing at your eyes."

"I can't see well. I always rub at my eyes," Spencer whined defensively, though it was obvious some of his resolve was starting to crumble.

"Not like that, you don't," James said softly, "How am I doing?"

"I don't want to play anymore," the younger mumbled, tightening the arms he had wrapped around his midsection. It was an obvious attempt to self-soothe, and James shook his head gently.

"I'm going to say my first two guesses were right then."

There was quiet for a moment, everyone trying to decide what the next ten seconds would bring.

What happened was not what they expected.

James got off the couch, moving so that he could sit down cross legged on the floor across from Spencer. He kept his posture open, mouth tugging into a gentle smile.

"Can I have my next guess?" He asked, gently tipping his finger under Spencer’s chin to bring his head up.

Spencer took a shaky breath and looked up to meet James's eyes. Slowly he nodded, eyes already beginning to well with tears.

James gestured to Spencer's arms tightly clasped around his midsection, eyes kind and voice gentle, as if he was apologizing.

"Your stomach’s sick, isn’t it?"

That did it. The tears in Spencer's eyes absolutely poured down his cheeks, a loud wail bubbling up from his chest as he let all the walls he'd tried to keep up crumble around him.

He flung himself not at Alex or Hotch, who were both now standing, ready to move. Instead, he flung himself into James. His thin arms latched around James's neck, face burying in his shoulder as his body was wracked with sobs.

James heard Alex hum behind him, surely wanting to comfort Spencer herself, but holding back. Spencer’s wails were choppy and gasping, those of a much younger child than even he was, and there was nothing the group of teenagers could do as they watched him fall to pieces in James’s arms.

James appeared to be unphased. He simply gathered their youngest more securely against himself and stood up, careful to keep a defensive hold on the hysterical, and very warm child

"Shh, shh," he shushed quietly, falling to a slow rock-bounce he'd seen Alex perform before, one hand gently rubbing across Spencer's bony back. "It's okay, bud. I know.”

There was a moment in which no one moved or made a sound but James and Spencer. JJ had long since turned off her movie, and the fear of agitating Spencer’s meltdown was far too high for anyone to intervene. Alex, who was visibly upset as she watched her baby sob into someone else’s arms, moved to step in, but Hotch’s arm came up across her chest, his head shaking just slightly in order to dissuade her.

“You’re okay,” James was saying quietly, his voice barely audible under Spencer’s shuddering sobs.

He shifted his arms tighter around the child, glancing over to where Alex and Hotch were positioned. Hotch took a step closer.

“Do you want me to-” he started, but James shook his head, giving a weak smile.

“No, no it’s alright. We’re just going to go calm down.”

There was a beat in which he raised an eyebrow, clearly asking a kind of permission of Spencer’s surrogate parents. They both nodded quickly, watching with surprised expressions as James took even steps out of the lounge, Spencer wrapped around him tightly.

The silence continued for almost a minute before Derek said bluntly, “What the fuck was that?”

“I have no idea,” Penelope said, eyes still locked on the door.

“I do,” Emily said, flopping back on the couch and reaching for the popcorn bowl. “Spencer got his meltdown, and I’m Fine just became my favorite game. Give it, Jayje.”

-----

James walked Spencer up and down the hallway for a while, letting him cry and wail himself hoarse while James held him close to his chest. He’d known Spencer hadn’t felt well for a few days, but Emily was right in saying that Spencer was sick all the time. He easily had the worst immune system of anyone James knew. If he’d known the meltdown coming was going to be this catastrophic, he might have made an attempt to intervene sooner.

A few doors in the hallway opened, confused or annoyed faces glancing at James as Spencer cried on. They shut as soon as James set a laser-like glare on them, daring them to say something to either him, or his tiny charge.

“Okay, Spence, okay,” he said gently as soon as the crying lost its angry quality, only left sounding sick and sad and desperate. “Shh, okay kiddo. You’re okay.”

It took a moment for the cries to quiet, not dying entirely, but no longer rupturing his eardrums.

“There you go,” James cooed softly, hand still rubbing along Spencer’s back. He felt the shuttering turn back into trembling as his breathing evened back out. “Good, good job. Good job, Spence. Let’s get you in bed, okay?”

Spencer sluggishly nodded against James’s collarbone, the death grip around his neck slackening. James walked them down to Hotch’s room, knowing that the RA had his own bathroom. Spencer ended up in there a lot of nights anyway, he figured, so Hotch wouldn’t be mad. Hotch couldn’t be mad at Spencer if he tried.

James only let go of Spencer once he set him down on Hotch’s bathroom counter, flicking on the light and taking a small step back to take in the boy in front of him.

There were tear tracks still running down Spencer’s face, which was a color between stark white and pale gray, save for the deepening flush across his cheeks, ears, and crawling down his neck. His eyes were swollen and red from the tears that still fell, even though they had slowed. He was shaking as chills overwhelmed his tiny frame, causing him to gasp quietly every so often.

James frowned with empathy. He hadn’t been that sick since the flu season before, but it was a hard feeling to forget. Plus, he didn’t know if he’d seen Spencer look that awful in a while, either, and the shaking child in front of him was breaking his heart.

“Okay,” he said gently, “what do you say we get you out of your uniform and into… I can go get your pajamas, or, uh,” he thought for a moment, glancing out the door of the small bathroom and into the bedroom, still dark as he hadn’t thought to turn on the light. “I can find you one of Hotch’s shirts?”

Spencer’s hands palmed his eyes and he shook his head slowly.

“D’n le’ve,” he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper, eyes half-lidded.

“Okay, then we’ll do that. Here, stop rubbing at your eyes. Let’s…”

He trailed off, never having been in Hotch’s bathroom, and not knowing what he was going to have to work with. He didn’t think about if Hotch would be upset with him rifling through the tiny medicine cabinet, or taking the washcloth on the counter to wet under the tap.

“Come here, kiddo,” he said gently, pulling Spencer towards him a bit as he gently wiped off the boy’s face, cleaning the tear tracks and hoping to do something immediate for the fever he felt climbing steadily just by being in close proximity again.

In time he got Spencer out of his uniform, into one of Hotch’s large cotton tee shirts, and nestled under the covers of the RA’s dark bedroom. James sat down on the edge of the bed, pressing a palm against Spencer’s forehead.

“So, can we talk about it?” He finally asked. Spencer curled into himself, pressed against James’s side.

“Do we ‘ave to?” he rasped, looking up with glassy eyes.

James nodded a bit, giving Spencer a gentle look. “Yeah, we do. I won, remember?”

Spencer cast his eyes down at the blankets, one hand twisting weakly at the fabric. He sighed before he said weakly, “I d’n feel good.”

James let out one small chuckle. “Yeah, I can see that. Can you be more specific for me?”

He squirmed. “D’n feel good at all .” Little hands twisted in fabric, big tears creating dark spots on the already dark pillowcase. “Since We’sday, I guess.”

James opened his mouth to prod again, but Spencer kept going, voice going in and out and squeaks and rasps in a way that would have been comical if it didn’t sound painful.

“M’ head ‘urts. ‘N my throat ‘n my stomach.”

“Sinuses?” James offered. Spencer was perpetually sniffling.

“No. S’a habit.”

“I know, just checking.”

“I…” he sighed, a sharp tremor shooting through his body and cutting him off in a whimper. “I feel… wrong. ”

James nodded, running his hand gently through Spencer’s short curls. It was the moments that Spencer let himself be vulnerable that James remembered just how young he was. Just how little, and fragile. How much help he really needed.

“I know, kiddo. I know.” He adjusted the washcloth that he’d laid on Spencer’s forehead, not missing the way Spencer leaned into the touch. He took the moment of vulnerability while he had it. “Can we make a deal?”

Spencer’s eyes had flitted closed, but he nodded gently.

“Mhm.”

“I don’t really care if you tell Alex and Hotch when you don’t feel good. Really. I know how they can be, I get it. But I want you to tell me, okay? Maybe if it comes from me, it’ll soften the blow from them, huh?”

For a second, James thought Spencer had fallen asleep. He thought about getting out his phone and calling Alex. She was no doubt pacing the floor until she could gather Spencer in her arms. He reached for his pocket, but found his wrist being grabbed by weak, spindly fingers.

“‘Kay.” Spencer mumbled quietly, shifting so that he was closer to James, nearly in his lap. “Can… not yet.”

James read between the lines, moving his hand from his pocket and shifting back so that Spencer could lay between his legs, his tiny body curled in on itself, head resting just below James’s heart.

It was at least an hour later when the door cracked open, two figures stood in the doorway: one tall and lanky, the other small and dainty.

Hotch and Alex.

Spencer was sleeping, body twitching and shivering ever so slightly as the fever worked its way through his system. James had been counting breaths, wondering when he should find a thermometer or call someone or shift from under the kid. He just hadn’t been able to bring himself to move him at all, even when one of his legs had been asleep at least twenty minutes.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

Alex moved quickly, perched on the edge of the bed in a moment.

“Hey.” She matched his level, eyes wide and worried as she looked at her sleeping boy. “I, um. Can I… I have Blankie.” She held up the blanket that was normally life or death. “I’m surprised he’s sleeping without it.”

“So was I, but you should have heard him in the hallway. Basically screamed himself to exhaustion.”

She shifted, looking down at her lap.

“Trust me,” she said, “I did.”

“Cry?” He asked, knowing her far too well.

“Course I did. Can I have him?”

James nodded quickly, the two of them moving in perfect sync to get Spencer off of James and into the arms of Alex. Spencer seemed to relax further in the arms of his assumed mother, then further still when James draped Blankie over the top of him.

With Alex wrapped in her own world, a hand gently trailing through Spencer’s hair, eyes locked on his small frame, James found himself taking a step away. Letting them have their space.

He turned to look at Hotch, who looked stressed in his own right.

“Sorry I invaded your space,” James said quietly to the other boy, “I just thought, well, this is where he comes at night when something isn’t right.”

“No,” Hotch said, “I’m glad you did. I’ll keep him here tonight so I can watch him. He looks rough.”

“Yeah. I um, I found that washcloth in your bathroom, but I had no idea where anything else might be.”

Hotch shrugged.

“Thermometer’s in the bedside table. We use it enough, you know, so I keep it close…” He tilted his head slightly while peering over at Spencer, a confused look passing over his face. “Is that my shirt?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize,” Hotch said quietly. His eyes didn’t move from Spencer. “I should be sorry. You didn’t have to do that. I… thank you for doing that. You were really good with him.”

James looked at Hotch a little closer, really seeing how tired the junior looked. He carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and in the dark of the bedroom, it showed.

“Hotch, really? Of course. We’re all trying to keep this kid alive. You don’t have to carry it all.”

Hotch hummed, rubbing lightly at his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Yeah… yeah right.”

James clapped him on the shoulder gently, taking a deep breath of his own. His own eyes turned to watch the way Spencer seemed peaceful now. Sick, but peaceful. He would be alright. They’d take care of him.

“You okay?” Hotch asked.

James gave a humorless chuckle, nodding and glancing at Hotch with a very small smile on his face.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes looking less worried as they flicked back to Spencer. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

#themetaphorgirl #patron saints of lost causes #fanfic of a fanfic #fanfiction #Criminal Minds #we love playing in someone else's sandbox #Brenna writes things #or at least she tries #sickfic #James Blake is the best dad #Spencer needs a hug

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buckybarnesbingo · 4 years ago

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BBB Week 34 Roundup!

This includes a LOT of awesome content from the Discord party this past weekend, which is all kinds of excellent!

Title: Herbal Tea, Hikes, and Meditation Collaborator: Link: AO3 Square Filled: K2 - Image of Bucky meditating Ship: Stucky Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Meditation, Sneaky Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Alternate Universe - College/University Summary: Steve says he enjoys meditation but all he really does when he and Bucky meditate together is feel him up. Word Count:1401

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Title: Bucky’s Christmas Tree Collaborator: hawkeyeandthewintersoldier Link: Tumblr Square Filled: U2 - Holiday Fic Ship: Stucky Rating: Gen Major Tags: Christmas, Established Relationship Summary: Bucky decorates his Christmas tree, wondering if Steve will be home in time for the holidays. Decorating is a thing of pleasure for him, something he knows he deserves now. Word Count: 506

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Title: A Better Future Collaborator: TiBun Link: AO3 Square Filled: U4 - Bucky/Clint Ship: WinterHawk Rating: Mature Major Tags: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Murder, Loss of Parent(s), Adoption Summary: When Sarah and Joseph Rogers take in newly orphaned Clint Barton, they vow to give him the loving, supportive life all children deserved, help him to heal from the damage done. Years later when Clint returns home to Brooklyn after traveling the country with his summer job, he is reunited with his adoptive brother's best friend, and something new begins to spark between them. Word Count: 11,194

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Title: Lighter Collaborator: hawkeyeandthewintersoldier Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K3 - support group Ship: BuckyNat Rating: Teen Major Tags: Dissociation, Therapy, Bucky Barnes recovering, Established Relationship Summary: After he has had a bad week, Bucky talks to his support group and dissociates. It leaves him feeling a bit shaken and his girlfriend Natasha picks him up. Word Count: 1217

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Title: Siren, part 4 : Lost girls find a way Collaborator: writing-mermaid Link: Tumblr Square Filled: U1 - “This might as well happen” Ship: Bucky/Reader Rating: Mature Major Tags: Mentions of death, degenerative illness, abduction Summary: Y/N is a mutant, a Siren, the last of her kind, with deadly dangerous powers and a hidden past. If most of the Avengers likes and get along with her, Steve doesn’t, and it’s getting worse when Y/N and Bucky become close. After all what can bring two broken souls together if it’s not a dark past. Word Count: 2252

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Title: Unexpected Collaborator: pherryt Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Y2 - Wings Ship: WinterWidowHawk Rating: Gen Major Tags: moodboard Summary: none Word Count: 955

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Title: What's in This Coffee Anyway?! (moodboard) Collaborator: Faustess Link: AO3 Square Filled: C2 - Time Travel Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: Baristas, Time Travel, Alternate Universe - Office, Coffee, Time Shenanigans Summary: Bucky is a barista and Tony Stark is his favorite customer. Today is the same as any other day except the espresso machine makes a weird sound and... sends them both back in time. Word Count: 100

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Title: Star Camping Collaborator: ariasfandom Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K4 - Star Watching Ship: WinterWitch Rating: Gen Major Tags: Stargazing, moodboard, aesthetic, space, galaxy Summary: A moodboard of Wanda and Bucky stargazing from the back of a pickup truck

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Title: Coffee Time Collaborator: ibelieveinturtles Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K1 - Barista Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: moodboard Summary: When Bucky unexpectedly inherits an old friend’s run down coffee shop, he doesn’t expect much. Then he discovers that the ancient coffee machine is a time machine, sending him from one end of history to another, learning the secrets of the most ancient society of Time Travelling Baristas.

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Title: BBB November 2020 Round Robin Collaborators: fightingforcreativity, rebelmeg, ladydarkphoenix, ariasfandom, Faustess, LLightz, Politzania, ibelieveinturtles Link: AO3 Squares Filled: fightingforcreativity, B3 - Lost their Powers rebelmeg, K5 - gym buddies ladydarkphoenix, B5 - frenemies ariasfandom, K1 - Kidnapped! Faustess, B5 - Fortune Cookie LLightz, U1 - AU Office / Corporate Politzania, K5 - Role Reversal ibelieveinturtles, B2 - Language Ship: several hinted ships, up to reader interpretation Rating: Teen Major Tags: Alternate Universe - Corporate, Gym Buddies, Fortune Cookies, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Ambushes and Sneak Attacks, Injury, Kidnapping, Magic, Multiverse, Plot Twists Summary: A trip to the gym takes one wild turn when Ten Rings Incorporated attacks. Word Count: 2695

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Title: HYDRA's Dolly Collaborator: Fighting_for_Creativity Link: AO3 Square Filled: U3 - Graveyard Ship: Tony & Bucky Rating: Teen Major Tags: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Tony Stark needs a hug, Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, Soft bois, Songfic Summary: Bucky remembers some of his victim's names. He knows he remembers this woman. Not knowing how else to deal with his grief, he visits her grave. Remembering more of his life as Hydra's doll, he is surprised to find company and ultimately an unlikely friend. Word Count: 1312

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Title: Visions of Xmas Past, Present, Future Collaborator: lbibliophile Link: Tumblr Square Filled: U2 - Memes Ship: BuckySam Rating: Teen Major Tags: moodboard, blood Summary: Christmas Eve in his shity little apartment in in Bucharest, a recovering Bucky Barnes is granted a gift: a reminder of how far he has come, and how much more he still has to gain.

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Title: It’s a Bee Collaborator: Pyrone Link: Tumblr Square Filled: C3 - free space Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: If you don’t like insects. there are bees, moodboard Summary: After getting funds from unexpected places Bucky moves out and starts a hobby with the old frames and houses he finds in his new place.

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Title: FiveEver Collaborator: ariasfandom Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Y1 - Crack Ship: Stucky Rating: Gen Major Tags: Endgame, Crack, Drabble Summary: Forever is a long time to love someone, but fiveever is longer. Sadly, Steve couldn’t realize that until it was too late. Word Count: 100

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Title: Alternate Bucky Collaborator: writing-what-writing Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Y3 - alternate timeline self Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: alternate universe mumbo jumbo Summary: Bucky and the other Avengers watch Hot Tub Time Machine and one of the actors looks familiar… Word Count: 414

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Title: Workout Collaborator: lbibliophile Link: Tumblr Square Filled: B4 - Showoff Ship: Tony & Bucky & Steve Rating: Gen Major Tags: moodboard, dog!Bucky, dog!Steve Summary: If there were such a thing as supersoldiers in dog form, Bucky and Steve would be it. Tony loves them, but their energy will be the death of him someday.

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Title: Xanadu Collaborator: Ibelieveinturtles Link: Tumblr Square Filled: U2 - AU: Artist/Muse Ship: BuckyDarcy Rating: Gen Major Tags: moodboard Summary: The Xanadu AU no one asked for: Former Junior Swing Dance Champion Bucky Barnes is home from the army and struggling to reintegrate. He’s got a job as a teacher at his sister Becca’s dance studio but it’s not really what he wants to do with his life. On a night out at a new retro disco nightclub with his best friend Steve, he dances with a girl who matches him better than anyone except Becca. Unfortunately she disappears before he can get her name or number. The next day Bucky runs into an old dancing mentor who invites him to audition for a new musical he’s putting together. When he gets there, he’s thrilled to find the girl from the previous night. Can he win the girl and the lead role or will he bust a move instead?

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Title: Sweets for the Sweet Collaborator: Politzania Link: AO3 Square Filled: Y1 - Blind Date Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: Drabble, Moodboard, fluff Summary: Tony discovers something shocking about his blind date. Word Count: 100

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Title: Till Death Do Us Part Collaborator: pherryt Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Y4 - Marriage Ship: WinterHawk Rating: Gen Major Tags: moodboard Summary: none

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Title: breathe easy (take your aim) Collaborator: plutosrose Link: AO3 Square Filled: Y2 - AU: Sentinel/Guide Ship: Stucky Rating: Mature Major Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Sentinels & Guides are Known, World War II, Brief Mentions of War-Time Violence, Lots of touching Summary: Erksine stepped up to him and began poking and prodding him, taking his temperature, taking his blood pressure, looking in his eyes, his mouth -- he said something that Steve only understood half of in German, before he drew back and smiled. “It worked.” - The serum enhances every one of Steve's senses. He needs Bucky more than ever. Word Count: 4993

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Title: BBB November 2020 Round Robin - Take Two Collaborators: Ginger, eachpeachpearplum, Poliz, fightingforcreativity, Menatiera, ladydarkhoenix, Faustess, LLightz, Pyrone, ibelieveinturtles, Gavilan Link: AO3 Squares Filled: Ginger, B5 - magnet Peach, B3 - abandonment issues Poliz, C4 - Marriage Menatiera, K4 - passing notes ladydarkphoenix, B3 - comfort clothes Faustess, Y2 - Hand Holding LLightz, K3 - Dog Pyrone, K3 - magical girl ibelieveinturtles, B1 - “Kiss me” Gavilan, K5 - walking disaster Ship: possibly WinterHawk Rating: Gen Major Tags: comfort, coping mechanisms, supportive friends, therapy animals Summary: With the help of his friends, Bucky finds cuddly new ways to cope with his PTSD. Word Count: 3232

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Title: Advent Calendar Collaborator: writing-what-writing Link: Tumblr Square Filled: C2 - Fluff Ship: Bucky/Reader Rating: Gen Major Tags: Advent Calendar, Domestic Fluff Summary: Bucky doesn’t know about advent calendars Word Count: 256

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Title: Baby Steps Collaborator: ariasfandom Link: AO3 Square Filled: U1 - Bathing Ship: Stucky Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Smut, first time, fluff, aftercare Summary: Steve and Bucky had been dating for a while, and they'd been wanting to 'get together' for just as long. Every time they got the chance, Steve stopped everything dead in it's tracts. One day, Bucky brings this up him, and the answer wasn't exactly what he was expecting, so Bucky made it his mission to prove to Steve just how much he loved him and his body. Word Count: 3795

#buckybarnesbingo2020 #bbb2020 #bbb weekly roundup #bbb week 34

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jadeile-writes · 4 years ago

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Fanfic Progress Update 70

Greetings, my loyal followers~ It’s Saturday, so let’s do a progress update. Stay tuned to the end of this post for a spoiler-y glimpse into the next chapter of Adventure gone Mini AND the next Radiohusk drabble I’ll post sometime next week!

Current WIPs:

Adventure gone Mini

Fandom: Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild / The Minish Cap

Summary: Sidon is given his very own Sheikah Slate, the first replica Purah has managed to make, and sets out to travel with Link with the intention of registering warp points for convenient travel in the future. However, when a malfunction shrinks them down to the size of bugs, and they meet little people called the Minish, they have to change their plans from “fun adventuring” to “getting out of this mess”. Not that those two have to exclude one another. Link/Sidon.

Progress: Chapter 40 is the current latest chapter and was posted on 17th of June. Chapter 41 is 1/3rd written and the scheduled posting date is 15th of July.

I post a new chapter every three weeks on Wednesdays. These updates always include a sneak-peek for the next chapter, slowly getting longer over the three weeks waiting period.

—–

That month of the year

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Progress: I’m shelving this one indefinitely. It’s obviously not working out right now, so I’m better off writing something else and hopefully coming back to this at a later point in time.

—–

Experiment in Romance

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Summary (temporary): Husk’s afterlife takes an odd turn when a drunk Alastor knocks on his door and has no intention of going to his own room for the night. It only gets weirder from there, leaving Husk with a most unexpected arrangement with the Radio Demon. Either it’ll be the best decision in his afterlife, or he’s simply out to break his own damn heart dealing with the fickle asshole. Radiohusk.

Progress: Chapters 1 and 2 are done, though I will need to check them out to see if they’re still good to go, as it’s been a while. Chapter 3 has been started, but the same applies. I’m tentatively bringing this one up here now that I’m dropping That Month, but we shall see if this becomes the project I’ll work on next or not.

—–

Hah! Our afterlife is the most hilarious bushwa, dearest

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Summary: This is not a stand-alone story! This is a oneshot/drabble collection in the universe of “Shit, the Radio Demon is a part of my afterlife”. Read the main story before bothering with this one.

I decided to give my readers a chance to throw Radiohusk prompts at me, and had the Afterlife-verse as an option to set the stories in. Everyone liked that, so this fic is now a thing. Enjoy the extra mischief from these two dorks!

Progress: Chapter 20 is the current latest chapter and was posted on 26th of June. Chapter 21 hasn’t been started, but the scheduled posting date is 3rd of July. A sneak-peek will be posted on Thursday.

I have 16 prompts left.

This fic receives a new chapter every Friday.

—–

Secret drabbles and ficlets!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Summary: I’ve occasionally written completely random drabbles and shared them with a bunch of friends without posting them on AO3 or here. I’d like to rectify that and start posting them here at random for everyone to read. I won’t be posting them on AO3 because I don’t want to, so keeping an eye on this blog is even more rewarding than before for a while.

Progress: I have one drabble at the moment and I shall post it next week. I also have a few nearly finished ones that I’ll probably get done sooner or later, but since I don’t know when that happens I shall remove this thing from the list next week, unless the drabbles get done in time for this to stay relevant.

Here’s a bonus secret: I have a couple of things I won’t be posting here, because I don’t want them reblogged around - one that is unfinished and not likely to be finished at all (and which I would post on AO3 if I did finish it) and one that is slightly risque (by my very very ace standards, lol). I’ll eventually post them on the Radiohusk Discord server, if you want to see them. Asking me via DM might also work.

—–

Other WIPs I’m not currently working on but intend to get back to someday:

PoE Drabbles (Pillars of Eternity)

DC Drabbles (Justice League)

Diaphanous Relations (Forgotten Realms, R.A. Salvatore’s books)

That month of the year (Hazbin Hotel)

—–

That’s it for the WIPs! Here are the promised sneak-peeks into Adventure gone Mini and the random Hazbin drabble (Note: the text may end up slightly different in the fic itself due to more editing happening before publishing). Enjoy!

Mini

"I give you my tentative blessing to explore the shrine when you return, mister hero", Festari of the Abbey said once the children had been extracted from Link’s person and sent away. Again. This time Link wasn't actually expecting them to be truly gone; he liked to believe he learned from his mistakes most of the time. "However, we will have to have a serious talk about your conduct and carried weaponry when that time comes. I will not allow the shrine to be destroyed because of an unneeded exploration by a hero who isn't doing this for a grander purpose than curiosity. Are those a acceptable terms for you?"

—–

Random drabble

"I told you to leave me the fuck alone if you're not going to buy something", Husk growled, and leaned backwards to avoid Angel Dust's grabby hands. "Oh come on! I'm not even reaching for your ass, I just want to touch your ears", Angel Dust said, and wiggled his perfectly plucked eyebrows. "I'll even let you touch this in return."

—–

That’s it this time. See you next Saturday!

AO3 FFnet Purple Crayon Ko-fi Radiohusk Discord

#Fanfic progress update

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dolphin-bouillabaisse · 5 years ago

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GO-ctober Prompt, 7

Inktober except without the ink, and with drabbles instead.

Prompt #7 - Enchanted

(previous | next | beginning)

(find it all on Ao3)

(Note: A completely different thing this time, because this is only Chapter 1 of a fic now! I liked the idea so much I decided to run far, far away with it. The next chapters will get to Ao3 sometime this month, I hope.)

Crowley stared at the bag hidden inside a cupboard of Aziraphale's kitchen that he knew the angel never opened. (Why he had it then, he wasn't quite sure, but it had been a good place to hide everything from surprise baked goods to secretly stolen wine. Maybe it was his sheer stubborn belief that Aziraphale would never find it there that made sure he actually didn't.)

What was hidden inside the bag itself was a moral dilemma. Crowley was not a big fan of those. He usually left them for the humans to hem and haw over. Demon's didn't have morals, so there was nothing to have a dilemma about.

Except.

Except when it came to certain angels and certain relationships-that-weren't-really-relationships but might have a chance to become actual relationships if either of them had ever dared to talk about possible relationships.

As it stood, this was a moral dilemma for Crowley himself to work out.

And all because of that dam-bles- that witch.

-*-

They'd spent an almost agreeable afternoon tea with her and her boyfriend who'd only said something incredibly rude once, or maybe twice, without realising until Anathema had kicked him under the table hard enough. (That was always good for a laugh, the humans thinking they'd somehow insulted the two of them. As if either of them cared. Well, Aziraphale maybe, all puffing up and fiddling with his buttons. Crowley was, of course, too cool to care.)

They'd had tea and biscuits and some very sweet, very sticky little cakes Anathema had made after her great-grandmother's recipe and Aziraphale had practically swooned over. They'd made chit-chat, or at least Aziraphale and Newt had, while Anathema and he had dived down their on-going discussion about conspiracy theories. (This would've made round 15 of this particular debate, and neither would admit they liked it. They absolutely did. Aziraphale had caught Crowley re-searching the newest arguments for and against certain conspiracies prior to the last two times they'd met up.)

And then, for reasons beyond Crowley's understanding, Anathema had asked him to help with clearing the table. Usually it was Aziraphale almost falling over his own feet trying to get up and help, only to be put back into his seat with a stern smile of the witch and her assurance that she and Newt would manage just fine. (They never did, though, as Newt would end up dropping at least one of the cups or plates. He was lucky their pottery was already a random mix of donation store and flea-market finds.)

He'd gotten up, begrudgingly (but surprisingly fast, Aziraphale noted – it usually took far longer to convince Crowley to do some kind of help, unless you were a particular angel in trouble of course), and trotted into the kitchen with a full tray, Anathema and the plate of biscuits (minus two, which Newt and Aziraphale had quickly nabbed) behind him.

“Thank you.” She smiled in that mysterious, annoying way she had while putting the dishes into the sink.

“Don't thank me.” Crowley shuddered. “Tell me what you want instead.”

“What I want?” “You clearly had a reason for getting me alone. What do you want?”

Anathema sighed. “Do you always assume the worst?”

“Demon. Job description.” Crowley waved the now empty tray around, miraculously not hitting any of the shelves in the tiny kitchen.

“Yes. Alright. Makes sense.” Another sigh. “I only wanted you away from Aziraphale because I have something for you, and I know he'll be so delighted he'll rip it out of your hands before you even get to look at it. And that kind of defeats the point.”

Crowley watched her rummage through a cupboard, followed by a few whispered swears (there was a reason she was one of the few humans he might someday admit he enjoyed the company of), until she pulled out a little paper bag and held it up. They exchanged a pointed look between each other.

“Oh god, stop acting as if it's going to bite your hand off. It's a gift. Just take it.”

“Why would you get me a gift?” He took the bag, though, peering inside for just a second. It contained more small bags. Rather suspicious.

“It's nothing special, don't worry, I didn't think of you or showed you any kind of nicety with this, I know how much you pretend to hate that.” (Anathema's mocking smile was another point for the list of 'things I might actually like about this human'.) “I've started experimenting with tea-blends for spells, and I figured you had a better use for this set than I do.”

“Tea for spells? What am I supposed to do with that? I'm a demon, not a witch. I don't do spells.” He sniffed into the bag for a second, hit with a wave of all sorts of spices, herbs and tea. He counted six little bags, exactly enough for a pot of tea each.

“You drink them, you doofus.” (Daring enough to call him that without flinching at his evil glare that followed? Another point for the list.) “Or rather, you have someone drink them.” A pointed eye-roll into the direction of the living room, where Aziraphale was still chatting away as Newt only nodded and 'mhm'ed from time to time.

Another moment of shared looks, another sigh. “Crowley, for all I care, throw them in the bin as soon as you get home. Or not. Maybe just give them a try, and see if you like the results, is all I'm saying.”

-*-

And that was that. And now he was standing in Aziraphale's kitchen, having offered to make the tea this time, for reason beyond his understanding. Or maybe not completely beyond, but for a reason he did not want to actually admit. Thus, the moral dilemma had been born.

He could make some normal tea. He knew where the bags of Earl Grey were, or the box of loose leaf Darjeeling. He could make some tea, bring it back to Aziraphale, have him drink it while reading, watch him enjoy it from the couch, end of story. Evening spent as usual. No problem at all. No enchanting or magickying or bewitching or whatever you'd call it. No influencing the innocent angel. No pushing on the door to that whole 'relationship' business they'd so neatly packed away without ever mentioning it.

The little bags of tea in the big bag were also very neatly marked. Anathema's handwriting was squiggly and slightly off, and actually made it easier for Crowley to read, (a discover which he pretended to hate for a little while, before being busy hating the descriptions on the tea). He'd read the notes over and over and over again by now, and was glad for a short second that Aziraphale was once again too engrossed in reading to notice how long he'd been gone.

'Receiving Gifts', one bag said. 'Words of Affirmation', the other. 'Quality Time' and 'Acts of Service' had caught his eye at first, but were quickly interrupted by 'Physical Touch'.

At the bottom, slightly smaller and neater tucked away, lay the worst offender.

'Eternal Love'.

This is ridiculous. He stood up to put the kettle on. As if drinking some tea would have any effect like this. He took out the the angel-wing mug. As if a human was able to create something that would have any influence over an ethereal being. He stared at the paper bag now sitting on the counter. As if he was going to try to enchant the angel with something as ridiculous as a cup of tea. He dropped 'Receiving Gifts' into the cup.

Steeped and strained, with one spoon of sugar and a splash of milk, the tea found itself softly placed next to the angel, currently deep into a giant tome of something or other he'd found just last week and couldn't tear his eyes from ever since.

He tore them off of it now, though, to look bewildered at the cup, then, somewhat softer, up at the demon who'd placed it. He'd apparently all but forgotten that Crowley had said something about making a cuppa only – oh, fifteen minutes or so ago.

“Figured you might need a drink after breathing in all that bookdust.”

“Oh, dear boy.” Aziraphale curled his fingers around the cup, breathed in the steam coming from it. “That's very thoughtful of you.”

Crowley made a rough noise while staring at- the cup? The angel? Hard to tell. His thoughts were all over the place, yet he was definitely not thoughtful. Especially not this time. Selfish, more like.

“Don't go down that route, angel.”

“Sorry. But thank you, still. What tea is this?” Another sniff of the aroma, decidedly not Earl Grey. Something deep, something herby. Utterly lovely.

“Beats me. Something I found in your cupboards. Pour it out if you don't like it.”

Aziraphale gave him an almost scolding look (as if he'd ever pour tea down the drain instead of enjoying it thoroughly) before taking a sip.

“Oh, it's lovely!”

Crowley swallowed down the rising feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Nothing seemed to have happened. Why should something happen anyway? They'd returned to their places, Aziraphale over his book, Crowley on the sofa, trying his very best to hang off of it as nonchalantly as usual, and somewhat failing. Far too focused on watching the angel take sip after sip, until the cup was empty yet again. Waiting. Watching.

For what? Nothing was going to happen. It was tea. The witch had played a prank on him, or anyway her work was far too simple to have any effect on a non-human, and it's not like he'd actually expected anything to-

Aziraphale got up. Crowley's mind stilled.

“That reminds me!” (What reminded him of what, exactly? Aziraphale's train of thought was impossible to follow, as always.) “I have something for you.”

“You what?” Crowley only managed to stutter, but Aziraphale had already disappeared behind a bookshelf, returning with a small plastic box.

“Here, I found this at the same Antiques' store I found this lovely tome.” Crowley stared – at Aziraphale this time, definitely. He was still holding the box in his direction. “I remember, you said the last one had turned in your car again. I hope I got the right one?”

He wasn't quite sure what exactly he was doing as he took it from his hands. The thing. The box. He should look at the box. Not at Aziraphale. The box. Look at it, you doofus.

It was a cassette tape of the Velvet Underground. (Crowley wasn't sure if this record had actually ever come out as a cassette tape, but where there was an angelic will, there was apparently a way.)

“Well?” Aziraphale interrupted the myriad of thoughts racing through Crowley's mind. “Is it the right one?”

“It is.” His voice was surprisingly hoarse, as if he had been screaming. (He had, inwardly. Hopefully only inwardly.) “It absolutely is.”

Aziraphale gave him a smile, one of those smiles, the ones that made him feel all melty and soft and nice like he shouldn't feel. Especially not now. Especially not the way he had caused it.

“The right kind of Bebop, yes?” He joked, expectantly, and Crowley stifled a laugh, as he was expected to do. He didn't have much of a mind to play their usual game right now. Luckily, Aziraphale didn't seem to expect much more, as he went back to his desk and tome. Crowley went back to staring at the tape.

'Receiving Gifts', he thought. And then his mind raced to the other 5 bags hiding in the cupboard.

It was going to be a morally tough week. He was not a fan of those.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #my writing #prompts #october prompts

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werewolfdays · 5 years ago

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snippet - First Kiss revamp

little callback to the very first little drabble that I posted on here about a year and a half ago. pretty cool to go back and read my old stuff and see the differences and improvements. Anyway, enjoy some soft tender shit -

Just like always, my mind drifted to Nadya. I wanted her so bad that every step away from where I knew she was felt like the wrong step. That every room she didn’t occupy wasn’t worth being in. That every mention of her made my chest tighten painfully. Whenever I was in her presence, she commanded my full attention without even doing anything. My skin tingled every time I touched her, like I was losing control, but somehow not in a bad way. Every single part of me ached for her. I’ve never met anyone that could beckon both me and my wolf in such a way. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold out before finally doing something about this.

My sister’s snapping fingers right in front of my face shook me out of my day dreaming. The sounds of mingling wolves in the Den came flooding back to my senses. “Wow, you were in it pretty deep.” Skye mused, taking a quick sip of her drink, “Have you heard a single thing I’ve said?”

“Sorry.” I told her, taking a swig from my glass of whiskey.

“It’s because of her, isn’t it?” Skye guessed with a knowing smile.

Her way too accurate guess annoyed me. “No. I’m just tired, okay?”

She rolled her eyes at me, clearly not fooled by my lie. It made me uncomfortable. Sure, I could admit to myself what I was starting to feel, but Skye knowing it too without me having to say anything left me feeling too exposed. Too vulnerable. Not to mention the fact that it felt like I had to talk myself off of a cliff whenever I got the urge to act on my feelings.

“You’re reading too deeply into this.” I continued with a sigh, “It’s not a big deal, just an attraction.”

“Okay,” Skye replied sarcastically, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. I tensed slightly in my seat, knowing her enough to anticipate that she wasn’t going to let it go with a simple okay. Sure enough, she nonchalantly added, “So just fuck her and get it out of your system already.”

“Jesus, Skye!” The vulgar implication made every muscle in my body recoil in offense. If it was anyone besides my sister who had said that I would’ve throttled them. “Don’t- don’t talk about her like that.”

I tried not to come off as angry as I was because the shocked look on my little sister’s face made embarrassment bubble up in my chest and I had to look away. Skye wasn’t expecting me to go on the defensive with such intensity. I wasn’t either and I felt my body react to its own shock, blinking and leaning back in my seat. When I looked back up, I saw Skye’s face slowly brighten in a satisfied smile. Then I realized that she had said what she said just to get a reaction out of me. It must’ve been what she was hoping for if her shit-eating grin had anything to say about it.

I scoffed and shook my head, “I can’t fucking believe you.”

“What?” Skye taunted, “You can’t hide it as well as you think you can. And you shouldn’t have to. It’s okay to want someone, Jayde.”

“Not her.”

Skye raised her hands in exasperation, “Why? Because she’s human?”

My attention focused on the amber liquid held in my solid grasp. I swirled it around, watching a small golden wave slosh against the side of the glass. If I gripped it any tighter, I feared I would shatter it. All I did was shake my head again. The conversation was taking its toll on me. I was afraid and frustrated and the combination was painful.

“No, it’s not just that.” Skye suddenly became serious herself, “It terrifies you. You have deeper feelings for Nadya and that scares you because you think it will destroy you both.”

My gaze shot back up to her in astonishment. That was not the kind of reply I was expecting to hear from Skye. It was way more real than I was prepared for and I was left speechless for at least half a minute. It felt like my sister had just opened a trap door right under my feet and watched as I went plummeting into the dark. Of course she was right. I still feebly tried to fight my feelings. I thought maybe I could eventually convince myself to let it go. To let Nadya go. For both of our sakes. But this discussion began to make me realize that it wasn’t possible. Dread filled my heart, making it sink into the pit of my stomach.

After I recovered from my shock, I downed the rest of my drink and narrowed my eyes coldly, “Thanks for the insight.” I growled, getting up to walk away.

“Jayde,” Skye called, but I didn’t even bother to look back. She knew better than to come after me right now.

At first I wasn’t sure where my legs were taking me, but then it became obvious. I was looking for Nadya. It became a bit of a habit for me to go looking for her when I was stressed. She always helped calm me down. Just her voice, her presence, was usually enough to placate whatever restless demon was banging around in my head. Nadya had somehow become my greatest comfort. Of course I saw the irony in going to her to calm myself down now, but I needed her.

That thought made me stop dead in my tracks. I needed her. Without meaning to, I confirmed what Skye had said yet again. Without realizing it, I was in a deep hole, too deep to climb out of now. And I was the one that had dug myself in it. If I wasn’t careful, I would drag Nadya down with me. But selfishly, I couldn’t bring myself to change direction. I stood there like an idiot, willing myself to turn around, but it didn’t matter because I needed her. Guilt couldn’t stop me from moving towards her, but it filled my bones with lead.

I eventually found myself standing in front of the door to her room. My hand reached up and hesitated. There’s still time to walk away. I told myself. But I couldn’t. I simply didn’t have it in me. Three knocks sounded when I finally rapped my knuckles against the wood. A long breath expelled from my lungs as my arm fell back down to my side and I waited.

It only took a few seconds for Nadya to answer the door. As soon as she saw me, her face lit up in a gorgeous smile. Just like that, everything melted away to the relief I felt whenever I was near her. “Hi, Jay.”

“Hi.” I greeted, letting an easy-going smile spread across my face, “Just wanted to check on you.”

“Oh, thank you.” Nadya said sincerely, taking her glasses off and stepping back to open the door further, “Do you wanna come in?”

“Uh,” I hesitated again, knowing that if I crossed this threshold there might be another line I would attempt to cross. But there was no walking away even if I wanted to, “Sure.”

“Everything okay?” Nadya asked once she shut the door behind us.

I walked into the center of the room, checking how this new place was working for her. She hasn’t really been living in it long enough for her scent to be fully incorporated into the space yet, but it still hung in the air like a comforting blanket. Nadya’s medical textbook was lying open on the bed next to a pile of handwritten notes. I smiled to myself at her conviction. She’d been torn away from her school life and her career path, but she didn’t let that stop her.

“I’m fine, it’s just,” I reached down to run the tip of my finger along the line of a sentence she wrote, “My sister knowing me too damn well, I guess.” I glanced up to see her giving me an understanding smile. Nadya didn’t ask, but I could tell she was waiting to see if I would elaborate. I knew she wouldn’t make a big deal about it when I didn’t. That made me feel even better. To change the subject, I asked, “How are you settling in?”

“Well enough,” She nodded while she took in her room, “And I’m not getting as many weird looks as I was a few days ago. I think people are getting used to the whole human living here thing.”

I let out an amused breath, “You aren’t the first and I doubt you’ll be the last, but yeah, sometimes wolves like their space away from humans. If anyone gives you trouble, you tell me.”

Nadya half-shrugged dismissively, “Don’t worry, I don’t think it’s like that.”

“I hope not.” My biggest worry when bringing Nadya here was territorial werewolves. Especially ones that got a bead on a beautiful young human. As far as I knew, there weren’t any wolves like that here, but you never know. Someone like that might show up someday. One thing is for certain, I wouldn’t let anyone like that near her. Just the thought of it made me inch towards Nadya protectively.

“I was thinking,” Nadya started somewhat nervously, “Maybe I can help the people here like I helped you. I heard there’s technically a clinic, but nobody really goes to it?”

“A lot of wolves prefer to let their wounds heal on their own.” I shrugged, usually being one of them myself.

She pursed her lips, “Even if you guys have supernatural healing, that’s still dangerous. Things can heal incorrectly or you can take longer to recover if it’s not treated it right. I can help.”

“Nadya,” I sighed. It could potentially be a huge risk for her to play doctor to injured werewolves. I could think of a million different ways it could go wrong. Not only that, there was a part of me that balked when she said, like I helped you. I didn’t want anyone else to be touched by her like I was whenever she treated my wounds. It was personal and intimate between us. I wanted it to be only me. Then I realized what I was feeling was jealousy. That I was trying to take possession of her. Stupid wolf instinct. I cursed inside my mind. To spite that horrid emotion, I relented, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Her excited smile was stunning. It made the effort of fighting off that irrational jealousy worth it. I noted that I had subconsciously taken another step towards her. Drawn in by her entrancing warmth.

“Thank you.” Nadya’s eyes were brightened with encouragement, “I’ve just been needing to do something useful with my time here. You know, earn my keep? Maybe people might actually want me to be here if I prove my worth.”

Even with the amusement she expressed in that last sentence, I replied seriously, “I want you here.”

I couldn’t tell if she caught my deeper meaning, but her smile remained. “Good to know I have at least one person on my side.”

I shook my head at her self deprecating joke. “Everyone will see what kind of person you are soon enough. Then you’ll have dozens of werewolves on your side.”

Another step closer.

“What kind of person I am?” Nadya brow raised up in question.

“Yeah.” I nodded, standing just a foot away from her, “The kind of person that sees the best in everyone.” My eyes didn’t leave hers and I drank in the warmth of her comforting gaze, “The kind of person that brings light to the darkest places.”

“You sure you’re talking about me?” Her voice spoke quietly, eyes darting down for a split second, noticing the final gap between us closing.

I was close enough to feel her uneven breath against my skin now. Able to hear erratic thumping in her chest when I listened for it. The sound matched the feeling in my own. “You could make a dead heart beat with hope.”

The intent written all over my face wasn’t lost on either of us. I hadn’t really planned this far ahead, but I just couldn’t stop myself anymore. Not unless Nadya wanted me to. She didn’t step away. Didn’t say any words of protest. Still, it felt like I was cornering her. Maybe I had read her wrong all along and the rhythmic racing of her heart was panic. Now that I thought about it, I smelled a hint of fear on her. A fear that reflected my own, making my hands shake. The very last thing I wanted was to prey on her. Or make her feel like she had to do something that she didn’t want.

My entire body was tingling, buzzing like an electrical storm was brewing under my skin as my lips hovered inches away from hers, “Is this okay?” I whispered.

Nadya’s breathing was incredibly shallow, “Yes,” She said so quietly that I relied more on her nod than her voice for consent.

Unable to withstand the torture any longer, I leaned in. I brushed my lips against hers in the lightest, softest peck I’ve ever given anyone. A part of me was afraid that if I came on too strong it would scare her away. But the experience of contact like this for the first time sent my mind spiraling completely. Nadya let out a quiet gasp that I felt hot on my lips. I realized it was because she forgot to breathe. I must’ve forgotten too, because the buzzing made my knees weak. In an effort to not topple over, I set my trembling hands on her waist to steady myself. Finally touching her gave me enough courage to lean in for a second time.

The second kiss wasn’t as shy as the last. Nadya reached up to cup the back of my neck, pulling me closer at the same time I squeezed her hips and drew her deeper into me. To my pleasant surprise, it was Nadya that deepened the kiss. Her lips parted mine and I eagerly accepted the invitation. I got completely and utterly lost in how soft she was. Her sweet taste was better than I expected. My tongue brushed against hers briefly, causing the hand that wasn’t at the back of my neck to excitedly grasp at my right arm.

This was everything I ever wanted. It was more. It was exactly what I needed. I guess I’ve known that the entire time. With the clarity her lips gave me, I realized it was ridiculous to ever deny any of it. I was so overwhelmed by it all that the tingling made my body go numb, but I could still feel all of her. Every inch of her that was pressed up against me. The warmth of her body and her mouth. The way her fingers tangled in my hair. How her breathing got shakier in response to the galloping of her heart. It was all-consuming and remarkable.

Kissing Nadya made every doubt I ever had about being with her fade away. I knew things would be different with her. I could feel it with every stroke her lips made against mine. I could feel it in my heart. My wolf could feel it too. I sensed its presence come to the surface to experience everything that the girl in my arms made us feel, causing my senses to explode. That’s never happened to me before. Not like this. Not without a full moon. And it wasn’t a lack of control, which was mystifying on its own.

Buried in the intensity, under her usual scent of mixed autumn spices, I caught a subtle note of arousal. The scent excited both me and my wolf. I started to kiss her harder for a few beats, beyond my control. A growl itched the back of my throat, hungry for more of her, hungry for the kind of contact we had been starved of for months, but I didn’t want to push it. I was content with the gift of her intoxicating kisses. Nadya didn’t need my primal urges ruining the moment.

I reluctantly pulled away, only realizing now just how little oxygen I had been taking in. Nadya was breathing heavily too, leaning her forehead against mine almost like she was tired. We remained quiet for at least a minute, both of us still basking in the bliss. Each steady breath I felt her take reminded me that what just happened wasn’t a dream. It was real. I kissed her. And she kissed me back. Everything was okay for these precious few minutes.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a good while.” I finally told her softly.

“You shouldn’t have waited so long.” Nadya replied.

#ocs #original characters #original writing #original story #wlw #My writing #im in a soft bitch mood #been wanting to rewrite their first kiss for a while so here ya go #also I know I said it was cool to reread my old writing #but its also cringy as fuck #like its usually not as horrifically bad as im expecting #but still like... yikes lmao #my ocs #Jayde #Nadya #Skye #Jayde pov

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wroteclassicaly · 6 years ago

Note

Goodbye prompt please !!!!

Smut Prompts - Michael Langdon

69. Goodbye - Our muses have one last night before breaking up/leaving each other

A/N : Calling this one ‘Goodbye Means‘

Pretty happy with the turn out. It’s a lot longer than a drabble or a starter, lol. Most of the time my brain takes off. Fucking Michael. Anyways, hope you enjoy, nonnie! And I hope all of you like it too! Lemme know!

Warnings : Language and explicit smut.

You try not to look at him, not wanting to, not being able to tolerate it. Michael has this way, however, of changing your entire resolve. You know what is going to occur before the next sunrise, is for the best, necessary for you both to attend to the next stages of your separate lives. Doesn’t mean it feels entirely right or doesn’t hurt any less. You try to keep that suffocating choke back from clouding your senses.

You want to be open for this last stolen night with your boyfriend. This is the hardest fucking thing you’ve ever had to do, knowing you won’t get this anymore after it’s all over. He’ll find someone else when he finally reaches the purpose in his life that he’s always been meant to. And this is all you can think about, well, besides the obvious horizon. You no longer look forward to them, they’ll just remind you from this point on.

You feel the bed dip, Michael’s cologne attacking your senses and increasing the burning in your eyes. You turn your head, wanting to run from this, go with him, forget all of everything until you’re okay again. It isn’t possible. You don’t need his sigh to tell you that. He noses your shoulder, lips pecking your flesh.

“Please don’t shut me out, Y/N.” Michael pleads, his voice on the verge of cracking.

You want to laugh but you don’t. Shrugging him off you, you move in front of your dresser, wrapping your arms around yourself, his lips already a ghost to your skin. There’s this fleeting moment where you desire to push him out the door and forgo your agreement.

Look at you trying to tell yourself it’s a simple business arrangement to lessen the pain you’re denying.

You don’t have to turn around to be aware of the hurt you caused Michael. Rejection doesn’t bode well with him, especially when he’s already tangled in a sea of emotions, having lost Ms. Mead only days ago. It kills you to be the one doing it to him, but you can’t help it. If you two have sex then won’t it be harder to let go in the morning?

This is so stupid, fucking crazy and absurd.

He can’t choose you after you have been loyal to him, with him every step since you two met. You support what he has to do to finish this, begin his true mission, avenge Mead. But he’s leaving you behind and it’s more than you can bear. Thus, your heart begins to override your head, speaking for you.

“You might as well just end me before you end the world,” You whisper, eyes now fully glassed over by the hot tears.

Nothing but watery shapes are visible in your vision, everything losing all meaning, your heart splattered all over your feet. You can feel yourself detaching like you were before you met Michael, obliterated beyond repair. It has your soon to be ex who just wants to shove his cock inside of you one last time, on the verge of a panic attack.

No, he loves me, it’s not just sex for him. It’s becoming one together before we can’t be anymore.

Rationality is trying to reason with your painful anger. You can’t fight, too tired and defeated. You can’t go through with this, because that means it’s true. Michael has a bigger and better purpose than you. And you’re not fit to travel the journey with him.

He has disagreed but you state it fact. I’m nothing when it all boils down.

Michael is wrapping his arms around your waist from behind before you know which end is up, making your lungs stutter, stumble, trying to remember the simple art of breathing. It hurts, you’re scorching, skin singeing. You try to bite back how your entire body feels safe in his hold, how nothing can ever harm you, how you’re both at your best together. Your hands, how laying them atop his own sends an electricity so powerful through you that you can’t feel your feet on the hardwood.

You unravel quickly, panicked adrenaline twisting through you, poisoning out all emotions in a vile wash.

Michael tries to speak and you tug your jean skirt down with your panties, bending over to hold onto your dresser, watching in a sickly trance as your tears sprinkle the floor below. You’re sour, closing those iron doors off, wanting to slam them in Michael’s face, in fate’s smug form. Your lips stretch around a crackling chap, throat dry and wet with anguish, sending your heart back out to reveal. “Take what you want and get the fuck out of my life. It’s all just time after this, doesn’t matter anymore.”

It’s all still, like a fresh snowfall on a quiet morning when nothing exists but the cold beauty of nature. You take the opportunity to assume he’s done and you close the door but a crack, heart splintering in the first few shattered pieces. He isn’t fighting for you anymore. Relieved, disgusted, confused, you are at your bedroom door and you have it open, vice spinning every last ounce of strength you can create-out of you to look directly at Michael. His shoulders are rolled back, his breathing eerily husky, eyes dangerously glaring daggers through you.

You aren’t afraid of him, not really. But right in this moment? His lips are pursed, hands balled into fists. You might’ve just sliced his last rope of sanity. Something inside you is hungry to keep pushing him, make him hate you and go.

He will destroy you soon when he offs the world and that means you can collide into your solitude.

You almost turn your head from his heated lockdown when he’s biting back at you. “Fuck. You.”

The door slams shut, ricocheting off your entire body, leveling you breathless. You gape at him, suddenly wishing you’d kept your clothing on. You rudely wipe the back of your hand over your eyes and start to slide around the door to go, find your breath. Michael is there by your side in seconds flat. You jolt, a reaction so strong that your palm is snapping across his cheek before you can stop yourself. It doesn’t help you, it only releases the flood gates inside you that come barreling through you, forcing the gates back open.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I can’t breathe, I can’t–” You begin gasping, verging a double over.

Michael is clasping your cheeks in his hands, hit forgotten, forehead sloping to fit to yours. “Shh, shh. Y/N–”

“Please don’t leave me, Michael, please.” You begin to struggle, choppy gapes of air brutally clawing from your throat, puffing past your lips.

You fall into him and you both hit the floor, your lips meeting his in animal instinct, inhaling the air he shares with you, his breath warm, cool like the toothpaste he uses. You fist your fingers into his soft curly hair and pull, spreading your legs to secure him between. There’s a new mission, your hesitation gone. You do NEED this. You’re swelling, teetering into that violent ache.

Clipping your right hand around his neck’s nape, you break a wet kiss, saliva matted to both your mouths. You’re uncaring, Michael’s moving in to leave his marks behind on your neck, teeth scraping, lips sucking to soothe. You maneuver your free hand to his crotch and squeeze, sliding your hand back and forth to console his hardness. He attempts to unsnap your blouse and tires, ripping it open, tearing your bra down to free your breasts. You arch into his awaiting mouth, plump lips closing around your nipple, the stimulation spreading like wildfire down to your already soaked cunt.

You uncuff your other hand to yank at his belt, undoing his pants and shoving them down below his ass with a wild cry of starvation to have him. You’re more than ready to coat him and bring him inside you, legs trembling at the thought of his cock parting your swollen folds, leaving him sticky with your creamy arousal. He uses all his power to quit, pinning your hands in his gently, both of you panting endangered animals.

“I want to savor you, go slow, touch, taste every inch of you,” He brings his mouth down to kiss your jaw, nosing you. “fill every single opening with my cum.”

You lick at his mouth, getting him to part for a sloppy kiss, shaking your head.

“You said earlier before we made this deal for one last night, that maybe someday we’d have another.” His blue eyes drown in tears, he nods, brushing some of your hair off your forehead, letting you continue. “Let’s go slow after the world ends. If I find you, promise me that night.”

“Whether you’re with me or not, my nights are always going to be yours. My moments. I love you more than what is inside of me. Know it, Y/N, please say you know that.” You’re rapidly melting, uncurling with a crash.

Your heart spills out into Michael’s hands, forever with him. “You’re my whole world.” Is all you can get out, the sobs pounding your chest, launching out of you.

Michael slides his fingers into your mouth for you to suck and he’s preparing you, stroking, memorizing you so slowly it hurts. By the time you’re ready he is shaking, damn near falling apart. You hold him close to you, both of you locking eyes, you guiding him inside of you, relishing in that deep set pushing pull, that prickling stretch that causes goosebumps to puncture your flesh. You curl your legs around Michael and move in rhythm with him, tears dropping off your cheeks and onto your breasts. Michael intercepts, licking the salt off you, pressing his nose back against yours, not taking his eyes off you, neither of you daring to look away.

He’s so beautiful you smile through your cries, Michael kissing you through his breakdown, his cock swelling inside you. He looks at you in apology and you wrap an arm around his neck, hand resting in his hair. “Please…. please come inside me.”

Michael shakes, wanting you to have yours too. “Together.”

He has his hand hovering over where you’re joined, prepared to rub your clit but you opt out of it. “Just let me feel you.” You slide your fingers through his in a clasp, arching off the floor and clenching around him, jaw dropping.

“Baby, please come,” Michael whispers as if he’s drunkenly wedding your soul here and now, and fucking help you it hits you both that this is a turning point, that he is. The next time you meet things will be different, a new world. Your combined breathing is an echo surround sound in your sex steamed room.

Please.

Pleading pleas.

Please

You both can’t deny.

Your muscles lick you sated, holding Michael deep inside you, his cock pulsing, swelling. You’re holding each other’s hands so tightly your fingers are turning white to the knuckles. You let the tickle flame you down, your vision darkening around the edges until all you see is Michael’s blue eyes holding yours. His brows pinch together, innocent, he cries out, a warmth drenching your sensitive pussy, gifting you with every piece of his essence he can offer. He collapses atop you in a fit of sobs, both of you shattered.

Goodbye.

~*~

When the sun rises you find yourself tucked into bed, alone with Michael’s scent. You climb from your bed, sore, reminding you he was really here hours ago. You open your blinds to watch the pink sky catch golden hues in her blending magic.

Goodbye.

~*~

Some time later, many empty nights, you are following your unusual routine. With your chips, copy of your newly purchased DVD Misery and Big Gulp in hand, you head into your house for a night that means nothing in hindsight. But when you go to your dresser to pull out your pink cardigan sweater, an envelope is stuck to it. Your heartbeat gallops full speed ahead, taking your throat hostage.

You don’t think about possible intruders, danger, who could’ve gotten in here. You are opening its contents and sliding down into the floor, a disbelieving cry cartwheeling out of you. Your fingertips stroke the paper, wide eyes alert. Gates flashing a welcome sign.

Y/N,

Goodbye means I never left you.

From the ashes I will forge a paradise.

When the smoke of winter clears, I will bring into fruition, our promise.

Sanctuary is salvation, only if you are by my side.

Bring what matters to you, I have provided the rest that you will receive upon your arrival. Someone will be coming for you by sunrise.

You will be taken to a familiar place, one where you will be safe.

There’s a woman there, she has a face you will recognize, but she isn’t aware of what you and I know. She is under direct orders to make sure you’re taken care of. Trust her.

Things will be rough there for a while and you will not see me until it’s time. I have given your last name as Langdon. They’ll refer to you as such. What’s in this envelope, please accept it.

They won’t question how you got in, but in case they do, Ms. Mead left me a fortune that also belongs to you. I’ve used some to gain you entry. To them you are just another rich body of bones.

I dream of rebuilding the night with you.

Goodbye means I’ll see you after the world ends.

Goodbye means I will ask you after we go slow.

Goodbye means

I love you,

Michael.

You dip your fingers into the paper to pull out a gold band.

“Goodbye means I will ask you after we go slow.” You repeat out loud, rocking into yourself, holding onto what Michael left, reality settling in.

He chose me, he needs me.

“Goodbye means yes.” You answer, sliding his ring onto your left hand.

~*~

The ride was long, scenery catching you into memory lane. By the time the black limousine is arriving, you recognize this place as Michael’s old school. A woman with Miriam Mead’s face is greeting you as you stare, eyes sparkling in wonder.

“Welcome to outpost 3.” She speaks curtly, leading you. You focus on your ring finger, serene, whole.

Goodbye means I’ll see you soon.

#michael langdon #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon x you #michael langdon x reader

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i-dont-even-know-anymore921 · 5 years ago

Text

Outsiders Reclist

This is an Outsiders Fanfiction Reclist- This will be a constant work in progress(I’ll be adding to it whenever I find something I think is worth reading or if I get sent something from someone who wants something added) It will be organized by the main character but keep in mind the fact that just because a fic is under one character doesn’t mean it won’t have a very strong influence from another- I hope you enjoy:))

All of these are currently on Fanfiction.Net but I do plan on adding fics from here on tumblr in the future, i just have to go through and find them

*ALSO- If I don’t specifically state that a fic is unfinished, assume that it’s done*

PONYBOY

The Origin of Asthma - “After a small incident while on a family trip to the lake, a young Ponyboy gets diagnosed with asthma.” K - Words: 2,120 -

In the Depth - “In his school essay, Ponyboy reflects on his soul and the dark depths where it resides.” T - Words: 1,234 -

Home For Thanksgiving - “It’s 1969. Michelle Randle has been away studying at NYU but has come home to Tulsa for a big family Thanksgiving. It’s 1969. Ponyboy Curtis has been away studying at Columbia University but has come home to Tulsa for a big family Thanksgiving. Both of them are hoping for a nice, calm, happy Thanksgiving - especially as it’s their first one together as a couple.” T - Words: 1,934 -

Prom Nights - “Ponyboy and Angela both being dateless on prom night sets off very interesting conversations, and more” T - Words: 3,152 -

Sneaking In - “Pony takes a risk when he helps his brothers sneak back in.” T - Words: 2,631 -

The Bear and His Boy - “It is a truth universally acknowledged among children that there is no truer friend than one’s childhood doll or bear and after all even greaser’s were children once.” K - Words: 1,542 -

the clouds will drift away - “She’s barely on the edge of 14 and the world already feels like it’s ending.“ K - OC - Words: 2,649 -

Dumb Drunk - “Ponyboy comes back home drunk and the gang decides to find out what he’s been hiding from them.” K+ - Words: 2,050 -

Snakes - “Young Pony never intended on becoming a writer” K - Words: 4,081 -

Eye of the Storm - “When Ponyboy was a baby, he was taken away and adopted by another family. Years later, he meets his brothers again. One-Shot. Ponyboy is aged down at the beginning.” K - Words: 6,365 -

strawberry lips - “his first kiss left him with the taste of strawberry on his tongue.” K+ - Words: 473 -

Multi-chapter

Ten Years Later - “Just my take on what things might be like ten years after the setting of the book.” T - Chapters: 19 - Words: 87,146 -

Maybe Someday - “For Ponyboy, it was only the story of his luckless romance. But in reality, it was so much more than that. Ponyboy’s problems are far from over as he continues to grow up on the rough side of Tulsa, and life gets more complicated by the day.” T - Chapters: 30 - Words: 86,720 -

Esoterically Yours - “Ponyboy Curtis meets an acquaintance he has been trying to dodge for years” T - Supernatural - Chapters: 21 - Words: 52,860 -

On a Long Road - “Sometimes, I wonder what my life would’ve been like if I’d never written that stupid theme. If I’d been allowed to stay with my brothers. If I hadn’t been forced to move from home to home.” T- - Chapters: 30 - Words: 133,229 - *ABUSE*

Out of the Blue - “After constant attempts by Mr. Syme at coaxing Ponyboy into sending his theme off to a publisher, he finally does it.” K+ - Chapters: 8 - Words: 19,292 -

*Series*

Splintered Ties That Bind - “One letter sent the family in different directions, each seeking the peace that comes only from being together. Time takes its toll, and love is bound by nothing” T - Chapters: 62 - Words: 118,974 -

Braided Ties - “Continuation of Splintered Ties That Bind, the brothers have found each other, and their lives move forward…Will things ever be the same?” T - Chapters: 21 - Words: 52,860 -

Summer Adventures - “The school year is over, and the lazy days of summer begin. Adventures -good and bad- loom on the horizon.” - T Chapters: 47 - Words: 166,736 -

Autumn Leaves - “Crisp air, falling temperatures - the summer is over. The Curtis brothers face a new set of challenges, and each will be forced to confront a pain they haven’t felt in nearly two years” - T - Chapters: 42 - Words: 127,663 -

Winter’s Soliloquy - “A new season, a new story. Ponyboy’s adventures in growing up with only his brothers and the gang to guide him continue.” T- Chapters: 23 - Words: 57,901 -

Spring’s Resurgence - ”Letting go of the past is hard enough, especially when the future is filled with uncertainties. Spring is calling; new life, new chances, new possibilities. A new adventure beckons them all.” T - Chapters: 34 - Words: 99,873 -

Wealth Versus Class - “We were studying The Great Gatsby at the time and yeah, I got that the book was saying Jay Gatsby could never be a part of the elite no matter how rich he became- but I had been looking at my own life- at real life- at girls like Cherry Valance and guys like Randy Anderson- and thinking the only thing that made us really any different was money.” K - Words: 1,739-

The Quarter - “’“I’m sorry I bothered you,” I called after him. “Must be a real pain having the vending machine right out here. People shaking it at all hours?” He stopped and looked back at me almost curiously. “Well, I don’t mind when they’re as cute as you.” I don’t know who blushed more deeply but I’d probably bet on him.‘” K- Words: 1,581 -

The Other Version - “"This wasn’t the gentle giant that carried spiders to safety when I threw my shoes at them. This person was steady and determined; ready to hit another person in the face for the sake of a few dollars.“ After an attempted mugging, Lizzy isn’t sure she knows Ponyboy as well as she thought.” K+ - Words: 1,999 -

Love Me Tender, Love Me True - “Lily Smith isn’t your typical Greaser girl. She wears decent clothes and doesn’t drink or smoke. Lily has skipped a grade in school and now she is all alone. That is until she meets Ponyboy Curtis and the gang. She and him fall for each other. The road to happiness is a bumpy one, but is always worth it in the end. Part One of "Love Me Tender” series.” T- OC - Chapters: 35 - Words: 135,241 -

All My Dreams Fulfilled - “Part Two of the “Love Me Tender” series.” T - OC - Chapters: 20 - Words: 118,700 - *NOT FINISHED*

SODAPOP

Due Diligence - “Trigonometry. Already the bane of Sodapop’s existence.” K+ - Words: 1,757 -

Dividing Lines - “Now that Sodapop’s reached high school, he’s suddenly aware of Darry’s godlike status and isn’t quite sure of where he stands.” T - Words: 4,911 -

I Don’t Understand - “The one time Sodapop doesn’t get it. The one time he doesn’t understand what pain his younger brother is bearing.” T - Words: 2,117 -

Telling Soda - “Jo Curtis has some important news to tell little Sodapop Curtis. One-Shot.” T- Words: 2,660 -

Multi-Chapter

Windward Circle - “This is the story of Dallas Winston’s little sister, Brooklyn. When Dally dies, her world falls apart. That is, until Sodapop Curtis swoops in and forces her to see that there is still good in the world.” T- Chapters: 29 - Words: 46,506 -

Lightnin’ Strikes - “‘That was Joanne. Met her at work today.’ Seems like a sensible place to start. Tie in to, and overlapping with, 'Our One Rule’ and 'Love Me Two Times’, but don’t tell Soda and Jo. As far as they’re concerned, this was always their own story…” T - Chapters: 32 - Words: 109,002 -

STEVE

20 Reasons - “20 reasons why Steve Randle severely dislikes – or so he likes to think – Ponyboy Curtis” T - Words: 1,354 -

Lighter Fluid - “Twenty facts about Steve Randle, in no particular order.” T - Words: 2,313 -

Stay with me (Just a little longer) - “He can’t stay. He knows that. He knows the longer he stays, the more it will hurt… but then, why is it so hard to go?” T - Words: 1,689 -

Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair - “Evie wasn’t the only woman in Steve Randle’s life. It’s just that this particular one sort of haunts him.” K+ - Words: 3,073 -

STEVE/EVIE

Apple Blossom - “You get it, he’s good looking. But he knows it, and you can’t stand that.” T - Words: 7,089 -

Bite Me - “Evie has a little explaining to do for the strange mark on her neck.” T - Words: 1,244 -

Can’t - “And for some reason I can’t keep my mind off him, and I don’t mind that at all.” T - Words: 980 -

Never Again

Emotions - “Evie Sanders’ eyes were planted on Steve Randle, and his eyes were, unfortunately, planted on a car.” T - Words: 1,249 -

Next Contestant - “Everyone knows Buck’s can get wild and crazy, but what they don’t know is that the very people they are befriending and talking to are willing to take advantage of them at any moment.” T - Words: 1,428 -

Only One - “All the girls fell for Sodapop Curtis. All except one.” K+ - Words: 836 -

Single Girl - “She only ever had eyes for Steve.” T - Words: 3,687 -

Turn This Engine On - “Steve is working late by himself at the DX, and Evie stops by for some extracurriculars.” T - Words: 2,224 -

Multi-chapter

Fatherhood - “Steve experinces the joys of being a dad and pounders the moments that led up to it.” T - Chapters: 2 - Words: 2,325 - *NOT FINISHED*

let’s pause this moment in time - “and I just wanted to say thanks, you’re the only reason I’ve smiled in days. :: a series of stevie drabbles.” T - Chapters: 6 - Words: 1,469 -

*Series*

The Only Kind - “'I knew that look. That look had been pulling me into trouble since kindergarten… ’ When Sandy gets Evie a date with Steve Randle, things begin to get complicated. Because Sandy and Sylvia have a hidden agenda and Evie’s getting caught up in the lies, at the same time as she’s falling for the guy she thought she disliked. Set in the months leading up to the book.” T - Chapters: 24 - Words: 73,218 -

Our Kind - “'Maybe Sylvia was right. Whatever I thought about her motives. Whatever I thought about her actual relationships. She did get the guy she wanted when she wanted him.’ Sandy’s gone, their lives are about to be turned upside down. Whose advice will Evie take and how far will she go, to get Steve back? Sequel to 'The Only Kind’.” T - Chapters: 24 - Words: 86,927 -

Our One Rule - “Evie and Steve are back together and everything is great. Until it isn’t. Because revenge is a way of life on the North Side and Evie is about to find out exactly how that works. Third story in series, following 'The Only Kind’ and 'Our Kind’.” T - Chapters: 26 -Words: 95,907 -

Love Me Two Times - “'He didn’t say it often, but when Steve Randle told me he loved me, I believed him. Of course, when he said that 'nothing in this world’ would keep us apart, I believed that too…’ Fourth story in series, following 'The Only Kind’, 'Our Kind’ and 'Our One Rule’.” T - Chapters: 30 - Words: 96,521 -

DARRY

ETOH - “Darry learns what happens to Ponyboy when left to his own vices.” T - Words: 2,854 -

He’s Wrong - “As she prepares for her senior prom, Audrey Holden is forced to face just how much people - and their opinions - can change in just a year.” K+ - Words: 2,692 -

Vivere Pro Aliis - “’You see me every day. We share a room. I spend more time with you than anyone else on the planet. And right now, I’m going to a movie with my friends, and you ain’t comin’.’” K+ - Words: 3,496 -

Slippery - “Wet floors can be a handful and rather surprising. You’ll never know where you slip. Darry/TwoBit” T - Words: 1,667 -

First String - “Darry knows making the football team could change his life.” T - Words: 2,985 -

Multi-chapter

Sticky Leaves - “Darry has lost his parents. Diana has lost her boyfriend. Maybe, in the end, they’ll both find something they can hold on to.” T - Chapters: 32 - Words: 124,496 -

DALLY

Beneath the Surface - “There’s more to their relationship than jail and cheating. No one else knows it, and half the time they don’t know it themselves. A collection of real moments in Dallas and Sylvia’s relationship.” T - Words: 3,853 -

*Series*

Arrogance and Aggression - “Arrogance and Aggression’ is a frothy Jane Austen-esque AU about love and friendship among the greasers (and their sisters). Dallas Winston is aggressive. Lucy Bennet is arrogant. Though she vows to hate him for the rest of her life, she begrudgingly realizes she may be wrong about him and about herself.” T - Chapters: 15 - Words: 63,651 -

Impatience and Impulsivity - “Lucy Bennet is impatient. Dallas Winston is impulsive. Somehow, they are still surprised when these traits eventually catch up to them and bite them in their backs.” T - Chapters: 12 - Words: 92,530 -

See My Friends - “The year 1968 was signalized by a single piece of mail, a terrible and senseless request, which undoubtedly, no one would ever forget.” T - Chapters: 8 - Words: 79,766 - *NOT FINISHED*

JOHNNY

The Date - “Johnny had just realized that Hanna Matthews is not a little child any longer” T - Words: 1,602 -

Late Hormones - “After finding a place to stay for the night, Johnny discovers an unusual change in his body which Dally helps him relieve.” M - Words: 2,564 -

Multi-Chapter

The adventures of Jonathan Cade and Dallas Winston - “What if after the murder Johnny went on the run alone, not taking Ponyboy with him. What if instead of Windrixville Dally told him to run to New York. Perfect for all you Johnny and Dally fans as well as everyone else.” K - Chapters: 11 - Words: 29,770 -

TWO-BIT

Crescent Moons - “Or, how Two-Bit Mathews got it in his head that seeing his daughter kissing his buddy’s son in the Sunday school classroom on Easter was the worst possible thing that could happen. Also, said daughter may or may not have an obsession with whether or not she’s named after the Virgin Mary. In short, the Easter of 1989 was one of the family’s weirder ones.” T - Words: 8,774 -

The Society Pages - “The society pages the next day spoke almost exclusively of how Two-Bit Mathews had been seen gallivanting around town with the newly crowned prom queen. Everyone agreed that Miss Stevens looked dazzling in her pink formal, and could pull off a tiara. And no, we still don’t know who slashed Steve Randle’s tires.“ T - Words: 7,349 -

TWO-BIT/KATHY

What Chicks Really Want - “Evie’s conversation with Two-Bit, regarding Kathy and what he ought to be doing.” T - Words: 1,564 -

First Date - “Two-Bit picks Kathy up for their first date … half an hour late.” T - Words: 3,572 -

Love Fool - “Three toxic words change everything, but is it for the better or worse?“ T - Words: 3,979 -

TWO-BIT/MARCIA

Banana Clip - “I got the usual for Christmas, thanks for asking. Mostly more librarian clothes […] I swear I have enough for a week straight now without having to wear one twice. One of them’s in that pink you like, though, so maybe you won’t make too much fun of me—not that I don’t love your two-bits (I know you think I’m funny). (Or, Marcia writes Two-Bit, half a world away.)” T - Words: 6,256 -

Keeper - “A post-book oneshot about Two-Bit and Marcia.” T - Words: 1,353 -

Multi-Chapter

Unlikely - “Two-Bit and Marcia run into each other a few months after that fateful night. What happens is, to say the least, surprising.” T - Chapters: 2 - Words: 4,258 -

GIRLS

The Girlfriend Coalition - “They weren’t really friends. They were just girls who knew each other because of who their boyfriends happened to be. Evie’s left to wonder if she’ll ever actually get to meet someone who likes her for her, who doesn’t hang around her just to keep up appearances.” T - Words: 3,110 -

Multi-Chapter

God Help the Girls - “…But with the girls, the rivalry was played out in near silence; psychological warfare. Nasty rumors and snide remarks. Girls will be girls, just as boys will be boys. It was that way all over America, and surely Tulsa was no different. But, no. It was oh so different in Tulsa.” T - Chapters: 20 - Words: 118,775 -

CURTIS FAMILY

The Detective - “You’re a detective and his eyes hold a mystery for you to solve.” K+ - Words: 1,591 -

The Birth - “The Curtis parents prepare for the birth of their second child.” K - Words: 1,041 -

The cake thief - “ Mrs Curtis. Verging on, if not complete, fluff…” K+ - Words: 969 -

A Mother’s Love - “A summer trip to visit Grandma takes an unexpected turn when someone shows up earlier than expected.” T - Words: 3,123 -

Solemn Simplicity - “The boys cope through their first Christmas without their parents and the recent loss of their friends.” T - Words: 2,811 -

Little Liar - “It’s Ponyboy’s first ever rumble, and the Curtis brothers try to hide it from their parents.” T - Words: 4,647 -

That’s My Boy! - “Everyone thought Darry was named in honor of his dad; they’re wrong.” T - Words: 920 -

Multi-Chapter

The Beginning - “Ponyboy isn’t the only Curtis with a story to tell.” T - Chapters: 10 - Words: 33,863 -

TIM

the more is my unrest - “Being the man of the house is a job with few benefits, but someone has to do it.” T - Words: 1,582 -

Breakfast With Shepard - “…Once we even found Tim Shepard, leader of the Shepard gang and far from his own turf, reading the morning paper in the armchair… What if Tim Shepard had decided to stay for breakfast?” M - Words: 2,314 -

Multi-Chapter

Going Back Home - “Tim Shepard drove out of Tulsa and swore he’d never return, but 14 years later a phone call brings him back to face the past.” T - Chapters: 14 - Words: 29,319 -

CURLY

Spin - “Little did Katie Mathews know that she didn’t need the luck of a coke bottle to kiss a certain greasy hood.” T - Words: 1,962 -

Totally worth it - “Pony goes to visit Curly in the reformatory” M - Words: 1,416 -

Multi-Chapter

Wild Ride - “To Ponyboy, Curly was the love of his life. To Curly, Ponyboy was just an expendable sex toy. Will Ponyboy bring back the Curly he supposedly remembers from their childhood, or will Ponyboy be left even more heartbroken than he already is?” M - Chapters: 25 - Words: 90,809 -

Curly Shepard Has A Plan - “Pony and Curly started 'going steady’ for a month. Pony didn’t want to go further until he was sure of himself, to which, 17 year old, Curly, frustratingly respected. Can a game of Truth or Dare changes things for better? Or for worse?” M - Chapters: 15 - Words: 14,597 -

ANGELA

They Were Gold - “Angela and Ponyboy used to be gold. But then…he changed them.” T - Words: 2,790 -

Young Girls - “When’s the last you fell in love, Angel?” T - Words: 8,746 -

Multi-Chapter

Trust - “As the youngest in her family Angela’s got a whole lot of reputation to live up to. Usually she enjoys the challenge, but when things go badly wrong there’s only ever one person she trusts to make things right.” T - Chapters: 2 - Words: 7,618 -

OTHER/OC POV

A Work of Art - “She never expected anyone to understand her—she expected them to learn from her, for through expression and knowledge deep within the soul is what brought art to life.” T - Words: 5,454 -

Looking back on a burning ember - “It has been twenty two years since the Windrexvill fire but Barbara has never forgotten the hero who saved her from the inferno.” K+ - Words: 1,025 -

I spent way too much time on this and i still havent added fics from tumblr yet and sbahkfdsbjfbjvbfsdfjb but pls do send any fics y’all like to me and ill add them:))

@insanitycaver @sunny-impalas @staygoldponebone @sodapopsundae

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pulitzerpanther · 5 years ago

Note

Is cat alive in 2045 rofl

@merakielysium got a drabble no one even asked for

The year is 2045—

Cat Grant is alive.

While Cat pulled out of the Private sector in regards to Science six years prior amidst the newsof LCorp becoming a Governmentsubsidiary after the United States merged with the Global ConfederateInitiative, there’s no doubt that Science has still made its mark upon history.Lifespan has increased three-fold for humanity on average. This comes withstruggles and feuds—a call to Democracy andResponsibility by the world’s heroesand policymakers who understand mankind’s hubris and, worse, fear therepercussions of their greed.

For years there will be war and strife before society becomes a practical unified Utopia for scientific and creativeprogressive, all united under one political banner.

Which is likely a day to remember, by the two in attendancewho might one day remember it.

(Carter Grant’s voice will crack when he tucks up glassesand smooths back hair and shushes hisgranddaughter prior to suggesting to his mother in law that it’s something outof Star Trek as they watch from thecrowded, quiet Green room outside of the GCI’s assembled, makeshift councilchambers amidst the wreckage of what will eventually historically be known asthe Great Divide.

Olivia Marsdin, an elected representative amidst alienrefugees, signs the bottom of the document but not before dotting a quiet CG in the corner of her name, lookingtowards the sliver of two eyes like they might be watching)

And, eventually after that, be forgotten, entirely.

In 2045 lay other events without much historical importance.Who would write about them? No one will weave a book of them, someday. Cat will surprise Kara with a set of coordinates inlieu of a plane ticket—it’s not likethey really need one, even if peoplestill took planes, anymore—tocelebrate their 20thwedding anniversary,feet buried underneath sand, both of their communicators tucked out of sight.The exhaustion she’s felt lately is likely due to being thrown back into thereporting fray despite being retired—

Just because 70 is thenew 30 and I look hotter than I everhave doesn’t mean I expected to go back to warreporting, Supergirl

–But blood staining the wooden floor, dripping after hertowards the balcony, suggests otherwise.

Science has advanced—culture; art; society are all on thecusps of renaissance—but at the tail end of 2045, Lena Luthor’s fingerscurling into Cat’s shoulder, it’s clear it hasn’t advanced enough. Radiationsickness manifests itself in ways that even the brightest mind in the world will not have the research torecognize for a decade too late. After the wars. After the Divide. After CatGrant’s death.

History will never know the promise Cat made Lena make.Likely, neither will anyone else.

One day, a girl will dream of it and curl fingers so tightly into a bedroll that they bleed.

It’s at the start of 2046 that Cat tells Kara.

“I’m sorry.” It’s a breath—a rare apology. Cat’s fingers curl around the edge of the chair they’dbought three years ago after Kara had accidentally broken their last one and it’sjust one out of a sea of broken chairs, really. It’s boundto happen, isn’t it? After nearly thirty years, together. She can’t rememberthe last time she kept her distance from Kara intentionally—can’t remember thelast time she had to keep a world betweenthem so that she could keep her jaw from quaking. Could stay strong.

What’s it like, anymore? What’s it like?

Cat hates that Kara,ultimately, will be the one who finds out.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

And oh, Cat is. And isn’t.And is a thousand things and nothing all at once.

“You know I had to be sure. You know I always have to be sure—”

But normally those certaintiesinvolve them. There are manypeople Cat has lied to in order to protectthem—Adam; Carter; the American people and the refugees—

Never Kara.

“I told myself I wouldn’t do this. I’m not going to—there’sno excuse. And don’t you dare try toact like it’s okay, because it’s not. But I’m scared.” Cat admits to Kara—only to Kara—knuckles pale around theirvice grip and for a moment, it might look like she’ll snap the chair in half,as well. What’s another one to the pile? It’s bound to happen, isn’t it? Withonly one more year, together. “Not about dying or—oh, well, okay. I’m a little scared of that, too.” A quakinglaugh, “But not really. No, Divite. I’mnot worried about Adam or Carter or the state of the Union—I’m not worriedabout CatCo, which, hmm, well, I know I’m leaving in good hands. I’m—” Shesucks in a sharp breath before releasing the chair, crossing the distance,fingers far gentler as they skim upcheeks.

“Maybe it’s narcissistic, but the only thing that’s been onmy mind since I found out, Kara—the only thingthat truly scares me—” There’s noholding back the tears, now, or the quake of her jaw or the anger and worry that cloud her voice, “Isn’t that I’m going to die. But thatyou won’t live, anymore.”

Cat makes it longer than a year, but not much longer, after. For all her fame and contribution, history won’t remember her for longer than a Goddess might. Of death.

Of light.

“I don’t want to leave you.”

Kara makes it more than science might hope to advance.

The Year is not a year, anymore.

It’s the 2045thMoon.

There’s a grunt of annoyance from the dusty floor as asmall, knot-shaped human wrestles with a scrap of book, bruised knucklesstruggling to push a bent needle through the makeshift tome with bleedingfingers—old scabs and callouses ripped anew from rigorous intent—the noise ofit lost amidst the abandoned—

What was the word again?

Lie-brary.

Why anyone would call a house of words a mess of secrets andlies was anyone’s guess, let alone the seeker’s. But that’s what it is—that’swhat Kara’s told her it is, so that’ssimply what it is—and after a moment’s more struggle, another noise is lost:

One of whooping victory.

And just like that, scraps become a book. One that’s now bound and immediately tossed in front of Kara’s bent knees,Rina’s youthful beam nothing short ofsmug in its triumph. She looks, for amoment, like someone else before tucking up the dirtied needle in the edge ofher teeth.

Cat Grant would never do such a thing unless she wasapparently suturing in the passengerseat of a moving car being chased by kidnappers.

“It’s so…odd to me, you know?” Rina starts work on anotherbook, gathering up pages, voice barely muffled by the needle, “So many of these things all just—so many things. People. Music and…andart, and their families—so much of it, people forgot.” Her hand waves in theair a bit with a shrug, tucking her own knees up to her chest, focused on those pages.

It’s a little easier todistinguish what goes with who, these days, and who goes where.

The needle pierces the edge of the page meticulously, tonguepoking out where the sliver of rusted steel had been a moment before.

“Do you think any of them knew? That none of it would matterone day? Well,” A quiet hum and she looks older for a moment. Another pierce ofthe needle. “I’ve never thought that what we do in the past matters much of anything,anyways. What we do now does—what we do tomorrow does. For ourselves. For…”Eyes flick upwards to settle on Kara for a wayward moment before looking backdown, “…for people. And all.” Her gaze lingers on the book for a second,quiet. “You know. The people that…that matter. It’s important to makeit better for—” Everyone. It’s on thetip of her tongue, nose scrunching up with features, cutting herself off beforeit might seem like she cares: “You’llremember me. I’ll remember you. Maybe that’s all that matters.”

And now it’s clear she cares too much.

Rina pauses eyes going a little wide before she looks up—sheepishlylaughs.

“Not that I want that goin’ to your head, you old brute. I just mean…” The laugh softens and so doeyes, staring at Kara instead of the book. Smiling. “Nevermind. You…you know whatI mean. You always know what I mean.” Adding, softer: “I meant just what I said.”

She goes back to work on the book—one of tomes upon tomesshe’s woven; it’s bound to happen with a few years or so of living together.

Maybe someone will sit in one of those fixed-up old chairs in town and read them, someday.

“That’s all that matters. Being remembered by the people who care enough to remember you.”

Maybe then, they never leave.

#Anonymous #merakielysium #rina #literally no one asked for this #oops #tw: character death

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stirlingphoenix · 7 years ago

Text

Keitor Month Day 4 - Abandonment

<< Day 3

Here’s the fourth installment of my Keitor Month drabbles! Enjoy! It’s a little late, but it’s also a little longer, so... :3

Keith/Lotor | PG-13 | ~1.5k words

Keith's not great with relationships, or personal interactions, or people in general. Every once in a while, he comes across someone special, someone he can connect to, who makes him feel like maybe he's not so different from everyone else, almost like he's halfway normal.

It doesn’t matter how hard Keith tries to cling to that sensation and actually become anything resembling ordinary, it never quite pans out the way he wants it to, and one way or another, his failure to measure up always leads to an inevitable end to whatever relationship he has at the time. Sometimes he gets a reason and other times he doesn't, but no one ever sticks around for very long. Eventually, it gets to the point where Keith no longer waits for things to end without his consent—utilizing what little control he still has and breaking things off before whoever can do it first.

Either way, the heartache never goes away, but at least when he makes the first move he can keep his pain in the acute phase, quickly convincing himself ‘it’s for the best’ and that it’s how he wants it to be. He’s better this way, alone, without anyone else hindering his objectives—whether by directly opposing him or creating another empty void somewhere within his broken soul.

But then Lotor came along, and even now Keith still isn't sure how he got so lucky. Somehow, Lotor manages to bypass the steel barricades he’s built up around himself and find his way into his heart, creating the perfect niche right in the center of it, one that Keith’s not sure will ever heal if it’s ever abandoned.

Being with Lotor shouldn’t be as easy it is. With his dedication to the Blade and Lotor’s place as Emperor of the Galra Empire, they’ve both had more than enough opportunities to drift apart and never look back. Keith still doesn't understand why, but Lotor keeps coming back to him. Every time he's called away for a mission with the Blade or when Lotor needs to leave and take care of his diplomatic responsibilities, something dark and cynical in the back of his mind, the part that's fed up with the agony of being alone tells him that this is it, that Lotor isn't coming back this time, or maybe he won’t.

Cutting himself out wouldn’t be difficult—in fact with how busy he is it’s almost harder to make enough time to seek Lotor out—but every time he gets the notion to stay back, that maybe he doesn’t need to leave the base this time around, that he can go another a phoeb without seeing his friends, and even longer without Lotor, Lotor always ruins those plans by finding him instead. It's almost like they have some sort of unspoken arrangement for whenever Keith's insecurities grow a little too heavy to handle on his own, and when he can't muster the strength to chase after Lotor, then Lotor will come for him, proving that maybe whatever they have isn't as one-sided as Keith thinks.

He's been happy with Lotor, in fact, he can't help but think Lotor makes him a little too happy, to the point where if he lets himself fall for Lotor more than he already has, he won't have enough willpower to pick himself back up if their relationship crumbles apart someday. Unless of course, he does that one thing he tends to do and ends everything before Lotor can take it away. Self-sabotage? Perhaps, but Keith prefers to think of it as facing reality and refusing to indulge in a beautiful lie that would only destroy him in the end.

It's a night, one where he and Lotor have the rare opportunity to spend more than a few vargas together that Keith finally decides he can't take it anymore. If Keith's being totally honest with himself, he'll admit that he loves being like this with Lotor. He loves being curled up next to him, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps and running his fingers through Lotor's long, snow-white hair. But just like his happiness, he loves this too much, and he knows he's not going to survive the day Lotor no longer wants him—because it's coming, it always does.

So, he puts an end to it, climbing out of bed and getting dressed as quietly as he can, which proves more difficult than he'd planned with all the shuffling around in the dark. After a little while, he finds his Blade suit, barely managing to put one leg in before he hears the shifting of covers on the bed. His breathing comes to a halt as he dares to look over, meeting Lotor's cat-like gaze staring at him through the darkness.

“Where are you going?” Lotor blinks up at him, his eyes still bleary from sleep, yet Keith still spots a hint of confusion flashing through them.

“I-” Keith finds himself at a loss for words. He might have come up with some lame excuse, something that would allow him to take back his transgression and pretend like everything's okay. But he doesn't—he can't lie, not to Lotor.

When they're alone like this, Lotor doesn't have an expressionless mask to hide behind. He's raw and open, willing to let Keith see him for everything he is and share what he feels, and right now, Keith finds himself staring into a void of pure anguish, a feeling he's all too familiar with.

“C’mere.” Lotor reaches out for him, and Keith doesn't have the resolve to resist. He gives in, sliding into bed and curling back up with Lotor, and in spite of what he’s just tried to get away with, Keith can't shake the notion he belongs here. He lets out a shaky breath, feeling a sense of relief for being caught as he presses his face into Lotor's chest, not quite ready to explain himself.

After a few ticks, deft fingers start working through his hair—Lotor’s gentle touch is more than enough to make Keith relax against him.

“Even at my age, I still I find making connections with others exceedingly difficult, so when I come across someone special,” Keith doesn't need to look up, not when he can feel the pointed stare Lotor's giving him, making it obvious Lotor's talking about him, “I give everything I have to try and not lose them.”

Lotor’s words aren't accusatory nor explicit, but his voice says it all.

Keith pushes himself up to meet Lotor's gaze. “How did you know?”

“I’ve ruined my fair share of relationships,” the note of complete understanding in his voice tells Keith that Lotor's done the exact same thing he was trying to do several times over. “Leave before they can walk out on me, better they suffer than me.” Lotor gives him a melancholic smile as he reaches out to brush Keith's bangs out of his eyes. “I believe it's a method you're familiar with, yes?”

“That's the gist of it.” Keith nods, unable to say anything else.

“Listen, if you're ever unhappy with what we have and it's something we can't fix I won't make you stay,” Lotor's gaze drifts to the side for the briefest of ticks, and Keith can almost hear his heart break at the mere mention of losing each other, “but, from experience, what you're doing doesn't get easier, and if the fear that I'll abandon you is the only thing driving your desire to leave now, then I implore you to consider this:”

Before Keith can even think about what's happening, Lotor already has his arms wrapped around his body in a tight embrace, with his legs quickly following suit and securing them around Keith's waist, effectively trapping him right there in bed.

“You make a compelling argument.” Keith makes a futile attempt at wriggling out of Lotor's hold, emphasizing his claim. He finds that Lotor's willing to adjust his limbs for the sake of letting Keith move a bit and get himself comfortable, but otherwise Lotor remains unrelenting in keeping Keith close and protected.

“I thought so.” Lotor sounds way too pleased with himself right now, but Keith can't deny that in this case, he absolutely deserves it.

“For the record, I don't want to leave you.” He thinks that should be obvious, but nevertheless, Keith seeks to prove his claim by shifting in Lotor's arms just enough so that he can slide his arms around Lotor in turn, his fingers eventually weaving their way into Lotor's hair. Keith lets a content sigh pass through his lips as he relishes in the familiar softness.

“I know,” Lotor replies, placing a chaste kiss to Keith's temple before nuzzling that exact spot. He doesn't elaborate, but Keith doesn't need him to.

That's another thing about Lotor—not only does he always return to him without fail, but his total understanding of him, even when he fails to explain himself properly means everything, and he realizes then and there that this, what he shares with Lotor, is something he can't afford to lose. For once, he's giving Lotor his trust, and he's not going to run away. Even when things get overwhelming and his anxiety gets the better of him, he'll see this through, because deep down, he knows Lotor will always be there for him.

#keitormonth2018 #keitor #keith #lotor #keith kogane #vld lotor #vld keith #keith vld #lotor vld #keith voltron #lotor voltron #emperor lotor #voltron legendary defender #vld #vld fanfiction #vld fic #vld fanfic #sp/ar/nw/js #prince lotor

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pandoratheprocrasticreator · 7 years ago

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Month of Drabbles Day 10: Diplomacy (Super Danganronpa 2)

Summary: Sonia Nevermind has always had a way with words. But how much use, really, does a diplomat have in a killing game?

Words: 2295

Warnings: Mentions of death, violence, and suicide.

When Sonia Nevermind was five, she kept her twenty kidnappers entertained until she convinced them to send her back to Novoselic in a first-class jet clutching a suitcase of diamonds. When she was eight, she secured a trade deal between Novoselic and the United States which boosted Novoselic’s GDP by fifty percent within the first month. When she was eleven, she stopped a nuclear war with a tilt of her head and a few words from her lips. Her mother had asked her how she did it once. Sonia told her she said her “please’s” and “thank you’s.”

Sonia always found that she had a way with words. Of course, she had to if she wanted to be queen of Novoselic someday. Novoselic had the highest civilian to militia ratio of any country in the world, but its tiny size meant that a good leader must use words instead of brute force in foreign relations if she wanted her country to survive. Despite this, everyone was surprised when at age twelve; Princess Sonia Nevermind became the head of foreign relations in Novoselic.

There were people that called her the Ultimate Princess. Sonia thought that that would probably mean something a hundred years ago when there were more princesses in the world. It pained her to think that she only had this title from her birthright and not from any talent of her own.

When she was accepted into a school in Japan because of this birthright, she didn’t feel the excitement that she thought she should have. Here was another prestigious school that wanted Sonia Nevermind not for her skills but for her bloodline. It was richer and better staffed than any school in her entire kingdom, but she was about to reject the invitation when it hit her.

Here was the best school in the world. Everyone who graduated from it was set for life. Sonia would have been set for life anyway, but Hope’s Peak Academy might take what skills she had and amplify it by tenfold. She had to go to this school. After all, wasn’t it a queen’s duty to become the best person she could for the subjects of her kingdom? Sonia proudly entered herself into Hope’s Peak Academy as the Ultimate Princess. If she was going to become a leader, she should try to grow fond of the position before the end of high school.

Except…in high school, Sonia didn’t get to lead. She led a group of girls onto the sandy beaches to enjoy themselves, but that was the end of it. When the black and white bear appeared and announced that she and her classmates will be killing each other, a Byakuya Togami immediately took charge. Sonia didn’t have to worry about protecting everyone anymore-someone else was doing that for her. This newfound freedom was almost euphoric.

And then Byakuya Togami was found lying face down under a table and covered in blood. Teruteru Hanamura was the killer. If Sonia had been aware of what Nagito Komaeda was planning, would she have been able to convince him to put his knife down? If Sonia had beaten Byakuya to taking charge, would she be the one lying face down on the wooden floor of the old hotel?

Sonia had disarmed bombs with her smile. She had stopped armies in their tracks with just a few words. She had saved millions of lives with a firm handshake and steady eye contact. So why, oh why, could she not save the lives of two classmates?

After Teruteru was dropped into that volcano, Sonia decided that letting someone else take charge was a luxury she did not have. If she simply took absolute power over her class, there’s bound to be opposition. That was not the way Sonia Nevermind did things. A good princess-a good diplomat-was to find the core problem and to solve it while the smile on her face never wavers.

The core problem with this class was that they didn’t trust each other. That was a given, seeing how they’ve only known each other for a few days and one of their classmates just killed another. This class needed to do more activities together.

Sonia organized a “girl’s only” party. She took a page out of Byakuya’s book. What better way to unite half the class than to have a party? It was going to be on a beach in the bright daylight, with no circuits to break and no floorboards to stab through. When Hajime Hinata and Kazuichi Soda decided to tag along too, Sonia didn’t mind. As long as Kazuichi didn’t try to hit on her, she was happy to have more of the class along. Some of the girls were missing, but the classmates who were her were happy. What’s the worst that could happen?

The worst that could happen was Kazuichi finding the dead body of Mahiru Koizumi lying in front of a door in the beach house. As Sonia stared at the blood-soaked corpse, she wondered if Mahiru would still be alive right now if she had been more insistent that she joined her party.

At the trial, Ibuki Mioda revealed that she was going to go with Mahiru had she not already agreed to come to the party. So Mahiru’s death was all Sonia’s fault, then. If she’d never arranged this beach party Ibuki would have been there to stop Peko Pekoyama from swinging that deadly baseball bat and none of this would have happened.

Peko claimed that she was Sparkling Justice, the serial killer that Sonia admired so. Something was wrong. Sonia tried to say something, but her classmates all talked over her. She felt a rush of anger. Why weren’t they listening to her? Wasn’t she their princess?

Peko Pekoyama had been lying about being her friend the whole time. Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu had been lying about his history with Peko. Hiyoko Saionji lied about small things, but those small things had almost gotten Sonia’s entire class killed.

Sonia turned away as the straw robots on the screen plunged their swords deep into the body of Mahiru’s killer. She had seen through the lies of countless politicians and diplomats. Why couldn’t she see through the lies of her classmates?

Monokuma announced something he called the “despair disease.” Again, no one in the class was willing to lend their ear to what their princess had to say. Sonia decided then that if she was going to unite this class, she would have to start with individuals. And it seemed that most of the class was more than happy to be friends at Sonia’s request-except for one Hiyoko Saionji.

Hiyoko Saionji was a challenge, Sonia decided. The rest of her class had their differences, but they at least tried to get along, if only to survive. Hiyoko, on the other hand, had shut herself off from everyone. The only person exempt to her rotten attitude had her head split open with a metal bat.

Sonia wasn’t sure why she tried so hard to befriend this rude girl. Was it because she just enjoyed this challenge? Was it because she wanted everyone to get along that badly? Was it just out of pity for this girl who had lost the only person that cared about her on this island?

A day passed after Sonia told Hiyoko about that mirror in the studio. Ibuki hung from the ceiling. Hiyoko was strapped to a pillar. Once again, Sonia was responsible for the deaths of her friends. If only she had been kinder to Hiyoko. If only she’d volunteered to take care of her sick classmates with Mikan. If only she had done something.

Sonia gave up on being a good leader after Mikan left them. She would rather spend the night after the trial sitting on the beach, Gundham Tanaka at her side, chatting about hamsters or horror movies or demonic rituals. Gundham told her about the poison in his blood. Sonia smiled. Her blood was no good, either, not because of poison, but because of a family and responsibilities she was beginning to wish she never had.

If Kazuichi was glaring at her and Gundham angrily, then so be it. She was finished dancing around others with her words. Maybe if she was lucky, Kazuichi would realize that Sonia was no longer the perfect princess he thought she was.

Monokuma said that he was leaving Sonia and the others to starve to death in the Funhouse unless a dead body was found. Sonia decided then that she would accept her death with dignity.

Had it been a week and a half ago, Sonia would have taken her own life at the first opportunity in order to free her classmates from starvation. A princess should not simply sit and watch her people suffer, nor should a princess ever take an innocent life. Sacrificing herself for her subjects would have been a great honor for the Ultimate Princess.

But these were Sonia’s classmates; not her subjects. Sonia was not their princess. She had long since decided that her title of princess had no use on this island, but that didn’t mean she was allowed to panic and scream like a child. She found that she cared about her classmates, and so Sonia resolved to keep them calm in their final moments, so that they could slip out of the world of living not with a shout, but with a whisper.

Nekomaru Nidai’s metallic parts lay scattered on the floor. Hajime and Nagito present argument after argument of Gundham’s guilt. In the end, not even Sonia could prevent the truth.

Gundham told her to keep living, so she promised to do just that. As she ran into the execution grounds to scoop up the Four Dark Devas of Destruction, she realized something: if she had not helped convince everyone to ride that roller coaster that brought them to the Funhouse, none of this would have happened.

Sonia always found that she had a way with words, but now she realized that her way was simply making the poison that poured out of her mouth taste sweeter. How many people had she led to the deaths of already?

Nagito Komaeda was planning to blow up the entire island. Sonia searched for the bombs along with the others. She wanted to save her own life, but she also wanted to save the lives of her classmates. That feeling of responsibility towards these other Ultimates has not gone away. But this time, instead of protecting them as their princess, Sonia would be protecting them as their friend.

When she saw the streams of fireworks shoot into the sky in colorful bursts, Sonia thought her heart would stop with relief. Now that she was certain she wasn’t going to blow up in the next few hours, she went to study the weaponry on the fifth island. If any of that equipment worked, Sonia planned to use her expertise to fight her way out of Jabberwok Island. After nine deaths, she hardly had any patience left over for words-sweet or poisonous. A princess did not point weapons at the innocent, but Monokuma was not innocent.

A fire started in the warehouse, resulting in the discovery of Nagito’s mangled body. Sonia knew she should have been horrified. Maybe she was, but that feeling of guilt that lingered after every previous death no longer lingered here. All these horrible injuries on Nagito’s body could not have been caused by her. She was only responsible for finding the killer of this case and bringing them to justice.

She was responsible for suggesting that her friends throw the fire grenades that killed Nagito Komaeda. Why couldn’t they have just poured water? They were on an island, for goodness sakes! Because of Sonia’s carelessness-because of her sweet words-everyone on this island was about to die.

She told everyone to vote for her. She was the one that suggested the fire grenades. She might as well have been Nagito’s killer. She wasn’t sure if she was so willing to sacrifice herself out of love or responsibility but it didn’t really matter anymore.

Chiaki Nanami suggests that she may be the traitor that threw the poisoned fire grenade. No, Sonia decided. She didn’t care if Chiaki was lying or not. This was the final straw. She couldn’t let another classmate-another friend die from her mistakes.

Chiaki wasn’t the traitor, Sonia declared. Sonia didn’t care that pointing out that she knew about the fake bombs made her more suspicious. She was ready to die. Over the past few weeks Sonia’s words have caused so many deaths. Her lack of words has caused so many deaths as well. Maybe this time she could use her words properly like she used to and save just one more life.

Hajime refuted her every argument. Sonia wasn’t sure when tears started pouring down her face, but she didn’t attempt to wipe them away. If she were still in Novoselic, these tears would have tarnished her image. Now, she didn’t care.

Sonia stared at the screen in the trial room as it showed her images of Chiaki Nanami running desperately from her inevitable death. She was never going to be a princess again. She was never going to be a queen. She was just Sonia Nevermind, whose sweet and deadly words killed whether they were used or not.

Sonia always found that she had a way with words. With her charm and wit, she could almost control the world. She could save the lives of millions of strangers with her words, so why?

Why oh why, could she not save the lives of eleven innocent friends?

#MonthofDrabblesChallenge #sonia nevermind #sdr2 #pandora writes

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