#but sometimes I get these dreams of scenes and I have to write them down before I forget and they haunt me

[bubba-luz]

Do you have like a summary of petals somewhere? From what i can understand from the comics its a zosan centric infection au and i wanna know more

Hi, thank you for the question.

Petals was an au for a now defunct fic I was writing earlier this year called “petals, a bloodied tongue” . I had published the first chapter and was working on the second chapter, but due to lack of interest from others and not really knowing what I was doing with a big story I wanted, I deleted it. I did make art for it, as you can see, and some notes when I was trying to map out the story.

You got it mostly right, it is an infection au, though I considered it be more Zoro centric, since I planned it to be told majority from his pov. I got the idea from One Piece Movie 6 Baron Omatsuri and the Secret Island and a 2008 film called The Ruins. It was a plant-based horror story with some cosmic elements. I mostly wanted to write a story where Zoro couldn’t really protect anyone. Zoro makes it his job to be the strongest and always protect the crew. But this is something beyond his control and he can’t slash his way through it.

The Strawhats end up on a mysterious island after a strange storm the night before. The island looks peaceful and has weird animals and creatures on it, but overall nice temporary vacation spot. Then Chopper goes missing. Then Nami and Robin. They find Robin, but shes sick? Nami is no where to be seen. So they eventually get picked off one by one. I made a numbered list of who goes first:

And manner of “death”:

The island itself is alive, it is it’s own being/animal. The souls of those that are consumed are trapped at the heart of the island, and their bodies are essentially fertilizers, some people grow into trees, or flowers, etc. There was a scene I wrote as a test run, of zoro finding a tangerine tree, the tangerines taste metallic like blood, and the juice is a red orange. So their blood also runs through the island.

For humans and the like it tends to infect them, they may cough up blood, sweat, hallucinate. They grow weaker in a matter of hours and lose mobility and the ability to speak, as there are plants growing inside them. Eventually they bloom and are consumed by the island.

Majority of the arts I did were scenes from the story, like Zoro giving the flowers to Sanji, Sanji telling Zoro he’s sick, Frobin having a moment.

This is the full layout notes I did:

I had some in between stuff planned, like Robin’s group exploring abandoned ruins which is where they are attacked and Robin is infected. Zoro and Robin have a conversation about some groups believing that when they die they become a star in the sky, so, eventually, they’ll see their loved ones again. Zoro digging into the ground hysterically after he realizes Sanji is gone.

The infection hits Sanji the hardest and slowest because of his genes and he’s the last to leave Zoro.

As for why Zoro never gets infected, I had this weird idea that the island recognizes Zoro as an animal like the island is. This would tie back to Sanji telling Zoro that he “doesn’t think Zoro is a mindless wild animal, even if he fights like one sometimes.”

Also I forgot to post this:

This would be Luffy’s death, but he comes back as the little dancing monkey orchid that Zoro sees when he’s all alone. Zoro believes he has lost it from grief.

Chopper turned into the little bean guys you keep seeing, he’s the one with the broken leaf. He seems to still remember Zoro.

Sanji turns into a field of dandelions and daisies. He got infected when he smelled the flowers Zoro gave him. The field seems to protect Zoro from any hostile animals.

Zoro has these recurring dreams of Sanji running away and leaving him, much to Zoro’s efforts. His final dream Sanji places a hand on Zoro’s heart and smiles and disappears, Zoro wakes up to Sanji gone.

Zoro also sleeps more now, since he sleeps with Sanji. He feels safe with Sanji, so he let’s his guard down.

Here’s chapter one, unfinished two, test run

If you have any specific questions, please send an ask in the inbox.

[luckydicekirby]

would love any director's commentary you may have on The Only True Thing if slightly older fics are on the table here bc lowkey it changed my brain chemistry forever. I read it on a whim like four years ago at 1 in the morning and ever since then I've been hooked on making all my fav pairings miserable for no reason. this sounds like sarcasm but I'm being completely sincere the schadenfreude is exquisite

okay first of all I’m SO glad to hear this because making your favs miserable is I think one of the most rewarding activities on this earth so I’m really glad I could help share that joy. thanks also to sylvain for just making it so easy. anyway, here’s some assorted thoughts, hopefully some of which are edifying!

(the only true thing for reference for anyone playing along at home.)

this fic affectionately named the darkling au due to this tweet which I feel like I should put in a hall of fame someday. anyway this entire thread showcases the origin of this fic which was me catie and lily bullying each other on twitter about sylvix, a pastime left behind in 2019 which i really miss.

the thing that really first made me Crazy Cuckoo about sylvain is his B support with Byleth--I'm obsessed with that moment where he very coldly threatens to kill you and then laughs it off, and that was pretty much the jumping off point for Sylvain's characterization in this au--what if he was like that all the time? answer: it would be bad, but also pretty sexy!

One thing I miss about writing for fe3h is the hero’s relics were sooo nice as like. shortcut symbolism. the lance of ruin comes preloaded for you! It’s familial cycles of violence! Easy! and there's a mechanic for it breaking ALSO preloaded into the game mechanics! I wrote like three versions of the ending and the lance getting busted moved around a bit--it originally happened a little earlier.

For a while when I was still femblempilled I was idly thinking about two sequels to this—a sylvain pov sequel about the war, which would have been fun but also Yikes, and then epistolary dorothea/ingrid ideological divorce fic. sorry to dorothea and ingrid who really get the short end of the stick in this universe.

oh there's a playlist. I can’t claim to have put a ton of thought into it it’s just all my fav bad ya boyfriend songs <3 actually dead girl walking reprise is like. yeah that's the fic.

ANYWAY. I feel like a lot of my commentary on this has been washed away by the sea (the passage of time) so a few extras. I apparently wrote like 400 words of sylvain POV of the training yard scene also? Last edited September 26th 2019, here you go:

Felix has always been smaller him, ever since they were kids. Still is these days, to Sylvain’s delight. He wondered about it plenty, these past two years--maybe Felix had a growth spurt. Maybe he caught up to Dimitri. Maybe Sylvain would meet him at the monastery and they’d see eye to eye. Of course they don’t. Felix is a head shorter than him, and he’ll never see things the way Sylvain does. Still. Sylvain thought about it. He’s had a lot of time to think about Felix since the last time he saw him, since Felix ran away. Still a crybaby at heart, no matter how sure he was he’d grown out of it. Not much has changed, Sylvain figures. Felix might have everyone else fooled with that delightfully sharp-edged exterior of his--a pretty decent feint, Sylvian should know--but Felix can’t hide from him. Sylvain sees him down to the bone. The two of them are a matched set: liars at heart.  Like right now. Felix is trying so hard not to cry, his back to the wall of the training yard, his grip tight around the wood of his training sword like he’s actually going to use it. Sylvain hopes he will. He hasn’t gotten to see Felix fight yet, really fight. He bets he’s gotten better. He bets he’s elegant and controlled—maybe less so with Sylvain, and wouldn’t that be nice? That’s how it goes sometimes, when Sylvain dreams about their last day together. Felix’s sword at his throat, biting and cold, ending all this before it began. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble. Sylvain wouldn’t have had to spend such an awfully long time missing him.  He bets Felix could make him hurt. Nothing seems to do that anymore, except for thoughts of Felix, the ones he can never stop worrying at like a bruise.  Sylvain doesn’t want much these days, and maybe that’s why it’s so hard: he wants Felix in a way that aches, delirious and unstoppable. It doesn’t matter so much how. Felix is welcome to cut him open or kiss him quiet or anything in between. As long as he never stops looking at Sylvain like he is now, hateful and just on the edge of tears, so clearly focused on nothing else. As long as Sylvain can have that, the rest doesn’t matter.  That’s love, Sylvain figures; the cheerful facade he gives the girls is nothing. He forgets about a new one every week. But Felix? He’ll be dead someday, and Felix will still have a grip on his heart, as tight as he’s holding his sword and just as dangerous.

and what exists of the sylvain POV sequel I never wrote:

Felix looks like shit. Of course he’s also beautiful. He’s radiant, for all that his hair’s a mess and his face is drawn and he’s got the kind of dark circles that only come from weeks and weeks of exhaustion. He’s Felix, right? He can’t be anything else. “You look like shit,” Sylvain tells him, because honesty is what Felix thinks he wants from him. He hasn’t seen Felix in six moons, but that probably hasn’t changed. “What are you doing here?” Felix asks. His horse stamps her feet and shakes her head, moving uneasily under him. Felix has never been a good rider. It’s clear he doesn’t appreciate his mare, and she doesn’t appreciate him. Sylvain wonders how long Felix has been making his way across Faerghus like this. He wonders if he stole the horse. It’s awful not to know. “Looking for you,” Sylvain says. “They say you’re searching for the king.” Felix never could stop himself from chasing ghosts. Sylvain hates that about him. It’s just as unfair as everything else: it’s the only reason Sylvain is still here, after all.  “I am. And you should be defending Gautier territory.” “Got a message from your father,” Sylvain lies. He slides off his horse, patting her flank. Felix, clumsily, does the same. “He wants you to come home.” That part’s probably true.  Felix scoffs. “My old man can send all the messages he wants. I’m going to find the boar.” He means it. Sylvain can see that he means it, in the flinty look in his eyes, the fold of his arms, the jut of his chin as he looks up at Sylvain. It’s the saddest thing Sylvain’s ever seen, and he’s seen a lot of shit. “Felix,” he says. He reaches out. He can never help it, not when Felix is like this, not when he believes. Felix doesn’t flinch from Sylvain’s hand on his cheek anymore. “Sweetheart. You know he’s dead.” “Don’t call me that,” Felix says. But when he swings himself back in the saddle and Sylvain does the same, he doesn’t tell Sylvain not to follow. That’s more than good enough. 

[theroguedragons]

Drabble for @dragynfire

Daemon felt how it had become harder and harder for his queen to keep on living this lie. Of course they had managed over the years to deal with it somehow. They found ways to meet up secretly. The prince was somehow even able to raise their children from the back by training with them and teaching them high valyrian to control their dragons but all of it never changed that the eyes of his brother were always burning on their skin. While Daemon could deal with the fact of sharing her sometimes to keep their lie intact, Alicent was crumbling under her hard facade and there was nothing else he wanted more than finally releasing her from all this weight on her shoulders and protecting her from having her body used like other men wanted. His jealousy he could control, but he couldn’t bear to see her suffer. Since the beginning it was her who had to make so many sacrifices and having him every now and then was somehow the only thing she really owned and decided by herself. It wasn't enough though and therefore the prince had promised her to take care of it as he always did. “I'll find a way. I'll ask him to release you so I can take you as my wife.” It was a whisper he left in her ear during their last embrace and even if he noticed that Alicent wanted to believe him, she couldn't stop the scoff from her lips since she probably thought he was just trying to calm her like he always did. But Daemon wasn't a man of shallow promises. He was either all in or would let go of something when it wasn't worth his time, but his queen, the mother of his children was everything that truly mattered and he knew he had to at least try to make her as happy as he felt when he had her.

After asking for a hearing with the king, something that would be formal and official, Alicent and their kids joined them in the throne room where Rhaenyra and everyone from the kings council was already waiting. As Daemon had asked his brother for this Viserys just chuckled, saying “You do not need an audience to talk to your brother. What could be that important to bring it up in front of everyones noisy eyes and seek such an absolution for it?” but his brother convinced him to do it nevertheless even if he appreciated his support he knew would be tested on this day.

“What is it you came here to ask for, prince Daemon?” his brother asked, sitting on the throne with Alicent and their three kids standing close by on the stairs, watching him with constant fear glowing in her eyes. No matter how many times Daemon tried to convince her to trust him, he knew that sometimes love wasn't enough to trust someone that could act so reckless. Still he was calm himself and after a reassuring glare to his secret lover, his eyes wandered over to the princess before he kneeled down with a smirk. “I ask for the hand of princess Rhaenyra.”

A murmur went through the room and Daemon noticed the confusion and shock on Alicents face without even daring to look at her while Rhaenyras surprise turned into a pleased smile immediately. Viserys needed a moment until he suddenly scoffed, a reaction Daemon had hoped for secretly cause he knew what would follow. “You really think I would allow you to marry my daughter? The heir of the throne?” Daemon was aware that there was a secret fear in his brothers mind. That Daemon only ever wanted the throne no matter the cost and that's why his request would just play into that fear what got obvious in the way Viserys looked at him in full despise and anger. “My dear brother, we all mourn the loss of your beloved wife Rhea...” Words that only made Daemon silently scoff himself. “...and we all wish you happiness and a wife by your side, but I cannot give you my daughter. You must have known that and still you came here to ask?”

It was Rhaenyra who stepped forward, trying to adress her father while Daemons eyes were now focused on Alicent to assure her that everything went like he planned it. While his queen was still confused, he was glad that her grip around their daughter tightened to prevent any further reaction from their kids who probably didn't know what to think of this either. Viserys stopped his daughters words that tried to perceive him and looked back at his brother who now slowly raised to his feet again. “My answer is no, prince Daemon. But considering your bravery to step forward to ask for this, I will allow you something else. Someone else.” Now it was getting interesting and Daemon folded his hands in front of his hips to seem as innocent and surprised about his offer as he could. “Name someone else. And I will gladly accept any name you will come forward with.” Any. Exactly the word he had hoped for.

The smirk on Daemons face increased and now he knew that Alicent must've understood what he was really aiming for here: a compromise. When the king denies him something first, his kindness will make him offer something better. Something else. The prince created an impossible situation the king had to decline just to offer him something he couldn't say no to again. “I want Alicent.” The roaming that went through the room now was louder than before but then stopped as the king suddenly raised from his chair with fury written on his face he tried to suppress as good as he could, but Daemon knew anger when he saw it in his brother.

“How dare you?”

Daemon just shrugged and looked at his kids whose eyes were focused on him. “You said I can have anyone else. I want Alicent. I want to be with her and my kids.” Alicent shielded Helaena in her arms in that moment, but Aegon II just gasped and looked back to his mother in confusion. They had never told them the truth to protect them from the consequences, but they both knew that their smart girl would probably knew it through her dreams while Aemond had always looked at Daemon like a father figure already, that's why his expression probably didn't even shift at all.

“Everyone leaves the room.” the king declared with coldness in his voice and waited for everyone heading to the door besides Rhaenyra and Alicent with their kids. “You too.”

Neither the princess nor the queen wanted to leave, but they had no chance to disobey the kings command and slowly moved down the stairs to head to the door as well. “It’ll be fine.” Daemon whispered as Alicent passed him close enough to hear his words and lightly touched his fingers with her tips under strict glares of the king whose stare probably wanted to kill the prince right here. Just as the door closed Viserys approached his brother who lowered his head in respect, but the firm “look at me” forced him to raise his eyes again in the moment as Viserys fist hit him right to his face and brought him to his knees since he simply wanted him to have that moment of control when he was so close to losing it forever. “Your kids? How can you even dare of disrespecting your king like that, Daemon?”

Daemon needed a moment to recollect his thoughts but instead of getting up again he just spit out the blood in his mouth and looked up at his brother with full determination. “It is the truth. Or do you really think you’d be able to produce heirs at this point?” Another angry kick hit him right into his stomach, but this time it wasn’t something he didn’t expect to happen and could just laugh about. Pain was always a known thing for the prince, it pleased him in a way even cause it reminded him of how alive he truly was.

“This is my wife you’re talking about. My children.”

“A wife you never loved? A wife you only chose for her youth, for her beauty and name when it should have been me taking her.” Daemon wasn’t completely wrong in saying that even if he knew that Viserys probably had no other choice back then. The king had to remarry, but why did it have to be her? The only woman he truly ever wanted?

“And you love her?” Viserys spatted and reached down to Daemons collar to pull him back on his feet to face him. “Say it. Tell it to my face.”

The prince had many devious expressions, but in this moment the former evil smirk shifted into something soft just like his eyes that started to sparkle from the tears of awe he felt for the queen. “I love her. She’s beautiful and fierce and much smarter than both of us will ever be. She has gone through so much always with her head held high and you know what’s the only moment for her where she can be weak and let it all go to be herself? When she lays in my arms at night after I fucked her. I bet you’ve never seen her look at you the way she looks at me at night because she loves me, brother. She loves me and I love her and there’s nothing you can do about it. I love her like you only ever loved Aemma.”

It was too painful for the king to listen and Daemon respected that he saw at least some form of emotional reaction now that it was about the woman he adored so much and who never got anything from him as honest as the love Viserys had for Aemma. But the prince also knew in the moment that his brother let go of him in despise, that he would never give in to his request. Not even now. Instead he walked passed him and stopped with his back turned on the prince, eyes closing from the heaviness the realization brought that these kids indeed were never his. “Marry Rhaenyra then. But do it where I can’t see it. And never come back here or to my wife.”

Daemon couldn’t believe this, that even in this moment he would rather have him marry his daughter than to give up a woman he didn’t even love out of duty. “Even now you belittle your only daughter because of spite? Do you think she’ll ever forgive you that you favor a woman you don’t love to her? Give Alicent free, brother. End this madness for her, can’t you see your wife is suffering?” It didn’t seem that Viserys cared or maybe he was just too weak to settle this in another way that could make him lose his pride, but without another word he left the throne room to speak to Rhaenyra who waited outside.

Daemon shook his head in disbelief, angry about himself and his failed plan that he only could come outside with a lowered head, heavy from shame. It didn’t matter anymore. If he really had to leave kings landing for good, he didn’t care about any other consequences anymore and he should at least have the right to say goodbye to the love of his life, didn’t he? While the king was distracted by the argument with his daughter, Daemon approached Alicent with a defeated smile but before he could say something it was Helaena who released herself from her mothers embrace to wrap her tiny arms around the prince. “I always knew.” she murmured and left him no other choice than holding her, his hand caressing her long white locks which made all of this even more bittersweet.

“Why did you do that?” Alicent asked and knew that she probably was right, but still he could just shrug and murmured “I had to try. I promised you.” It was Aegon who was the only one still standing there with suspicions towards his real father, while Aemond just looked at him with respect and nodded. Even if he was the youngest and still too small to leave him behind, he often behaved like the most grown up and filled Daemons chest always with pride. Helaenas arms released from his waist and in the moment he approached Alicent to rest his hand on her cheek, Viserys head finally turned to sent them a last threatening look, but Daemon couldn’t care less anymore.

He was too busy with wiping away the tear that rolled down her cheek and leaned in to have their foreheads rested against each other. “Do not cry, my love. It’ll be worth it, time is on our side you have to believe in it.”

“Let me come with you.” Aemond suddenly said, his eyes firmly on his father who just shook his head.

“No, you have to stay with your mother. She needs you. All of you.”

“But Dragonstone might offer me a dragon. I might finally be able to…”

“I said no.” Daemon interrupted him with a commanding voice, his eyes now focusing on the small boy he kneeled down to now. “You can visit me. Visit me with your mother. For now I need you here. Help her to calm his mind. It is my fault that his blood is raging now, but it won’t be me who will be able to calm it. You will.”

The princess steps in their backs were the reason he got up again, a deep breath later allowing him to turn back to his queen so he could cup her face and lean in for a kiss to her cheek, her ear close enough to whisper in it. “Visit me. I’ll always wait for you.” Alicent nodded and what first just was meant as his goodbye, shifted now into an urge he couldn’t suppress and led him against her lips for a kiss of bittersweet devotion and a promise that even a marriage with the princess couldn’t break. “Find me.” he said to the family he had to leave behind before the king would behead him and even if Rhaenyra had witnessed the kiss with her former best friend it didn’t even seem to unsettle her. Maybe it shouldn’t have surprised him since her confidence was always her biggest strength.

“Let us leave, uncle. I have no interest in staying at a place where I’m constantly reminded that I’m worth less than anyone else to my father.” It was a reaction that was understandable and somehow Daemon felt regret for ruining her relationship to her father even more, but at least all truths were spoken now and hopefully everyone would know where they truly stood. Time would tell how it would solve itself, but for now Daemon couldn’t wait to mount his dragon and escape the mess he had created, even when the outcome wasn’t the one he hoped for and the woman by his side wasn’t the one he wanted to marry truly.

At least he tried. At least he made his promise come true that he would try and ask for her hand to prove her that she would always get anything from him no one else would ever offer her. That at least one person in her life would risk it all for her and that what they had was true. Not her father, not her husband. But him. There would never be anything he wouldn’t do for her, even if it caused a war or the final loss of the man he called his brother.

[dduane]

Do you have any recommendations on what to do when you can’t write?

I’ve been struggling to write for years, but telling stories is all I want to do. I have ideas and plots and characters all figured out! But actually getting the words onto paper? I just can’t do it. There’s a mental block or something getting in the way.

I want to write, I so badly do. I want to tell my stories! But no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I love the story, the words never work properly. I can day dream scenes up perfectly, but as soon as I’m near paper the words all vanish.

I guess what I’m actually asking is: how did you defeat the blank page?

Well, first of all, I can confidently tell you that your storytelling per se is working just fine. You just told me a perfectly cogent story right there, in writing. So that's good to know.

Now let me put your mind a little at rest by telling you something reassuring about the Writer's Brain:

It's not the sharpest knife in the block, if you take my meaning. It can be tricked. It can be fooled. It can be bamboozled into working when it doesn't want to... sometimes with embarrassing ease. (And this approach is, by and large, far preferable to sitting around over-analyzing one's interior life to figure out what went wrong with your developmental process somewhere in the dim lost past. Just hornswoggle the silly thing into working and then do the analysis later, if you can be bothered.)

Sometimes just changing something basic in the process the Writer's Brain is expecting is enough to make it lose the plot (so to speak...) and let you get on with work. And in your case I'd say, more or less immediately: Have you tried telling the story to yourself out loud, recording it, and then transcribing the recording?

Because this problem is a commonplace among storytellers. Sit them down in the pub and give them tea or a drink and start them going, and you'll get half an effortless hour of hilarious prose about What The Cat Did In The Middle Of The Night or When The Neighbors Were Fighting In The Street Again Yesterday. But show them blank paper, or an empty screen, and (now that the pressure to perform is suddenly in place) they freeze.

So try doing an end run around your writing brain. Borrow or otherwise procure a little recorder of some kind. (Or if you've got a smartphone, add a voice recording app to it.) Go get comfortable somewhere and get yourself into that daydream state, and then—making sure the recorder's on—start talking.

It doesn't have to be perfect unblemished prose. The pursuit of that comes later, after draft zero-minus-one. Just tell the story... or some of it. Or a fragment of it. Even a few paragraphs is a triumph, in a situation like this. You may, during the recording, have to talk yourself into the story stage by starting out talking about something else first. Let that happen.

Then when you're done recording, listen to it and transcribe it (typed or handwritten, as you please).

And maybe a day later, do this again. And a day or two later, once more. And so forth.

You're going to have to keep at this, because your Writer's Brain may start suspecting what you're up to, and try throwing spanners into the works. (Its favorite being "Oh, this isn't working, I may as well give up..." Pay no attention to that nagging little voice behind the curtain. Just keep doing what you're doing. Persistence is a superpower.)

The thing to keep reminding yourself, as you settle into this process, is that sooner or later the WB's resistance is going to flag, because you really do want to tell stories. It does too. What you have to teach it is that—to coin a phrase—resistance is useless. :)

Anyway: give this a try. You'll need to be doing this daily for at least a couple of months to find out whether it works or not. So let me know how it goes.

(BTW: once you've broken through the barrier, you may well find that dictation is a good routine way for you to generate your first draft. At that point—should you feel inclined to go a little higher-tech than recording and hand transcription—let me recommend Dragon Anywhere. This is a month-to-month subscription version of Dragon's flagship text to speech program—the one @petermorwood and I got Terry Pratchett to use when he started having difficulty typing. I use Anywhere a lot, on days when it's easier to write stretched out or lying down than it is sitting up. It transcribes what you say, and then you can just email it to yourself and cut-and-paste it into your writing document. Very handy.)

Hope this helps!

[good-griief]

losing game pt. 1

HEYYYY i'm actually back with a lil smutty angsty ellie fic bc i needed to write for this woman... anyway here's part one its only a lil angsty i just wanted an excuse to write rly gay smut so enjoy and p2 tmrw!!

as most of yall know any reader i write (as a poc writer) has no race, i just wanted to use a picture of taylor momsen bc i love tpr and that's definitely the vibe of the music in this fic

part two part three

read me click me

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Being in the rock scene was your dream. You started with small gigs, then small venues and festivals, and now you had a band to go along with your music. Your career was kicking off and it felt like heaven; every performance, every song, all the adrenaline made for some of the best nights of your life. 

When you picked your band, you hand-selected each member, and to say you picked your guitarist for any reason other than how pretty she was would be a lie. Yes, she was amazing, but you also couldn’t speak when she walked in for her interview. She just smiled, laughing at the way you stared at her before your manager started talking for you. He often did, she came to realize. 

She still accepted the moment you offered her the position, but she made it clear that she didn’t like your manager. She accepted for you; to be with you.

And she slowly became your favorite part of performing. You had this way of connecting with each other — of course, you were close with all of your band members, but she was different. You’d spend time together one-on-one, smoking a joint and talking about nothing until one of you had to force yourself to go. You’d get coffee together, have dinners, and even spend the night at each other’s apartments. Whenever someone asked about you two, you said you were best friends. Even when she was waiting for you at the end of the carpet, and you both laughed at your answer like it was some kind of inside joke. 

Even when you were onstage, on your knees, singing your most sensual song to her as she melted to your level, smirking as her hips thrust against the electric guitar. Sometimes, she even sang with you. You’d hold her face, or thread your fingers through her hair as you held eye contact or rested your forehead against hers with shut eyes, and if there was a break in the song you’d kiss her hard — a stage kiss that the crowd would erupt in cheers over. But they happened offstage, too… after a shared joint or during a party. Nothing more.

She’d let you place your fingers on the strings of her guitar to find the chords as you stood behind her, her head leaning back on your shoulder in a way that showed the muscles on her neck as she breathed in heavy, hot breaths. She let you wrap your hand around her throat, groaning in your ear as fans caught pictures of you dragging your tongue over her sweat-ridden jaw or biting her shoulder as she grinned. 

There was one night you let her take over the mic as you danced along. She played her guitar, singing and watching you until you sang with her. Your hands drifted down her thighs as you kneeled behind her, the crowd screaming as you lifted her shirt and came around to kiss the line of hair below her belly button. She smirked, stopping her playing and fisting your hair to pull your head back as you laughed. 

Nights when you’d take off your shirt, tossing it into the audience and pouring your water on yourself before she came to lick it up, tongue dragging over top of your breasts as you sang breathlessly. There were times she had to wrap her arm around your back to keep you standing when she did that, the action so intimate, so arousing, that it was hard to remember why you were on stage and not in your dressing room, alone with her. Some nights she’d take her shirt off and give it to you if she didn’t want anyone else to see you, smiling at you with her shirt on before you came over to kiss her cheek. 

There were moments with other band members, but none of them were like her. They didn’t make you feel the same — none of them were her. 

So, when the end of her contract came up and she talked to you about leaving to pursue other things, you were devastated. You didn’t think she’d leave, but after a talk with your manager, her decision was set. 

“I think you should,” you told her anyway. “Whatever makes you happy, Els, seriously. I’ll support whatever you do.” She smiled, taking your hand to kiss. On the inside of her fingers, and yours, you could see the matching tattoos you got months ago, threading your fingers together so they match up. 

You dedicated your last show with her to her. It was a surprise, and she cried when you said it in the beginning, but she just turned away to shake it off quickly. At least, she did until you started crying during a song you wrote for her — it was another surprise from you and the rest of the band, but the minute she saw you crying she couldn’t keep it together. She came over to hug you, kissing the top of your head as she let you hide your face in her chest. The crowd awed, but Ellie took the mic to say you’d be back. She set it down and lifted your head to make you look at her. “I love you, pretty girl,” she said, away from the microphone so no one heard her, but they could sound it out if they wanted to. “Please don’t cry.” She wiped beneath your eyes, ignoring the camera flashes and screams from the crowd. “I hate that I can’t do anything about it right now.”

You smiled. “I’m gonna miss you so much.” 

She laughed at you. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” She nodded to the microphone. “Finish my song, I wanna hear the rest.”

“You’re an idiot,” you said, now standing at the mic and making the audience laugh. 

You were such an idiot. 

She never told you what other things she wanted to pursue, but you should’ve known. 

Of-fucking-course she was pursuing her own music. Of-fucking-course she was starting her own band. With yours. Of-fucking-course all of their contracts ending over the course of a few months would amount to this. Of-fucking-course each last show you dedicated to them meant nothing. 

You couldn’t even be mad. It was smart. But you were beyond hurt. 

And she still dedicated her first show to you. She texted you herself, asking you to come. 

When would you learn your lesson?

“I just want to thank you guys for coming,” she said to an audience of mostly your fans. “You might know me — us — from a backup band, but we got a little tired of being backup, didn’t we?” The band laughed. “So, uh, my name’s Ellie if you don’t know… probably don’t,” she laughed as if you’d never thanked or introduced your band before. “And I just want to dedicate this show to the previous artist I worked with. I wouldn’t be here without her, so she means… a lot,” she said it so fucking snarky, “to me, and… I have a few songs for her… if you all wanna guess which ones they are.”

And her first song was the biggest Fuck You song you’d ever heard. 

Still, she texted you after the show. 

She didn’t ask you to come to another show, and maybe that was because you announced a break from music, or because she was getting so much attention that she didn’t care. You saw her at award shows sometimes, and she would cheer when you won. Of course, you’d cheer for her too, but it never went beyond that. Almost like it was an unspoken rule that you weren’t on speaking terms. 

But the minute you came back to the scene, almost a year later, she texted you for the first time since her first show. 

You didn’t reply at first. You hadn’t kept up with her at all during your break, your manager telling you to stay away from any of her and her band's promotions and interviews. He had you block all of them and their numbers, but you couldn’t bring yourself to block Ellie’s. And you were glad you didn’t. Usually, you didn’t have your phone on you until late at night, your manager having your assistant handle your messages and social media, but you were about to fall asleep when she texted. As if she remembered your schedule. 

And it prompted you to look her up. Then her and you, and you could see countless videos. 

every time ellie has mentioned “her” compilation was what you decided to click on. It was made by an account that was clearly a big fan of hers, so you readied yourself for any hate that’d be thrown your way. 

The first clip was an interview, asking her why she split from your team. “You know, I really loved her and her team,” she said, “still really love her. It’s just hard being reminded, constantly, that you're a stepping stone and your time is running low, you know? We might’ve held her back if we stayed, and she was moving on to better things,” it sounded like she was quoting someone else. “—I mean, she always wanted us to shine, and I’m so grateful for her. I really miss being on stage with her, but I don’t miss anything else besides her and I think that says a lot.” 

Another was on her way into a hotel, a reporter asking if you congratulated her on an award. You could remember seeing her at the show before your manager called you over just as she was walking your way. She laughed, “haven’t talked to her in months.” 

Another of a sit-down interview with the whole band, your name being brought up and Ellie snapping at them, “You know I really wish people would stop asking me about her.” She got choked up as the others answered, nose reddening when the question finally circled back to her. “We’re not friends, we don’t talk, she doesn’t want anything to do with us, so...” She shrugged, pissed off. 

The next was another interview. It seemed she was just having to get used to being asked about you. “I’ve tried to reach out,” she said, “maybe she changed her number.” 

Another. “She was my best friend, I miss her a lot. I hope she’s doing okay.” 

And another, asking about her songs. “Yeah, I wrote a lot about her — No, I don’t regret it. I feel like it reflects a moment in time, you know? It was a really nice moment — I mean, I still have our matching tattoos,” she laughed, showing the tattoos on the insides of her fingers. 

Another, after a show. She was always emotional after shows, and it made it harder to watch as she wiped her eyes when the interviewer asked what your relationship really was. “I don’t fucking know,” was her answer before she walked away. 

Some of them were sweet, memories you shared that made you laugh. Others made you sick with guilt, like when she mentioned your lack of response or you blocking the band. Some just made you sad. And you felt like an idiot for doing this, but after reading the comments, some defending you for not running your socials or phone, or angry with you for the same reason, you played a compilation of the two of you together from the same account. 

Then you called Ellie. 

It rang once before sending you to voicemail and you just hung up. You kept your attention on the video to distract yourself from how much that stung. 

But she called right back. 

You stared at the phone for a moment, seeing the contact poster of the two of you at her last show with you lighting up your screen and feeling your words get caught in your throat as your eyes stung. You grabbed the phone, answering quickly. “Ellie?” It was silent, “Ellie, I just wanted to say, I had no idea… I understand if you never want to talk to me again, but I—“ You cleared your throat, trying not to sound like you were about to cry. “I’m really sorry.”

“I thought — I didn’t think you were going to — It feels so good to hear your voice,” was what she settled on after stammering through a few sentences. “You have no idea how much I’ve, just, wanted to talk to you…”

You bit down on your lip as you listened to her. She didn’t sound angry, but she clearly had so much to say to you. Her voice was filled with feeling as she went on, trying to get everything out as if she thought you’d hang up the phone at any minute. You just listened, shutting your eyes and bringing your hand over your face as hot tears spilled down your cheeks. You couldn’t bring yourself to understand why you were so emotional, maybe it was the fact that you misunderstood her so easily, or that your manager had ruined your relationship with her, or maybe it was even that you were just getting to hear her talk after so long, but she paused the moment she heard you trying to calm your breathing. 

“Please don’t cry.” She already knew. “I hate it when you cry and I can’t do anything about it.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “Keep talking. What were you saying?” You looked at your computer, auto-playing something else of the two of you. It was clips of you on stage and during interviews, heads on each other's shoulders, hugging, kissing each other’s cheeks, singing together. You pursed your lips, tears coming quicker as you slammed your laptop closed. “Ellie,” you cut her off, biting at your lip as you looked at the empty spot on your bed she used to take some nights, “what are you doing right now?” 

“I’m on my way,” she said quietly, and you could hear her shuffling on the other line. She was probably getting ready to go to sleep, and wake up to no response just like every other time she messaged you. And you would have woken up with no idea she even texted you. “Do you want me to stay on the phone?”

“If you’re already headed to sleep—“

“I’m coming over,” she said. “I’m already in the car, I’ll be there in ten, okay?”

“Okay…” Now you felt bad for making her leave her house, looking outside at the snowfall and sniffling as you tried to wipe your eyes. “I’ll see you soon.” You hung up the phone and groaned at yourself, shoving your head in your pillow. 

You opened your laptop, typing in the song names people speculated she wrote for you and queuing them all. Not one was the one you heard during her first show, and it made you feel even worse by the time the doorbell rang. You moved off of your bed, wiping your eyes and going to the door to buzz her up to your apartment. 

You waited by the door, balls of your feet kicking at the floor as you crossed your arms and waited for her to knock. It was the same rhythm she used to knock in, and where it usually made you smile, it made you cry more. God, you missed her, and you didn’t even realize how much until now. You took too long to open the door and you heard the lock click. She still had her set of keys, and that made you feel worse, too. She’d probably texted you about returning them, and you never got to see it. Nothing was making you feel better as she opened the door, and seeing her face just made it worse. 

“God,” she muttered, immediately bringing her arms around your waist. She tucked her head into your shoulder, shutting her eyes as your arms went around her shoulders. Her hands held you like you’d disappear the minute she let go, thumbs running soothingly back and forth over your shirt. “I missed you so much,” she said. “They all wanted me to get over it, but I knew there was no way — I knew we had something more than just — fuck, I know you better than they do. I know I do.” Her lips brushed your skin with every word. “I missed you so fucking much,” she repeated, hugging you tighter. 

Just her touch made your tears slow to a stop, relaxing into her hold and hugging her so tight, but she didn’t care. She was happy to be back in your arms. Your hand drifted to her hair, cradling her head to your shoulder. You could remember the nights you spent playing with her hair until you fell asleep and the thought made you run your fingers through it. She sighed, pulling her head back but refusing to let you go. 

There was a silence as you moved her hair out of her face, tucking the strands behind her ear. Slowly, your hand cupped her cold, flushed cheek. She leaned into your touch, eyes falling to your lips as your thumb stroked her cheek. 

“Ellie,” you muttered and she hummed, turning her head to kiss the inside of your palm. “I missed you, too,” was all you chose to say despite the wanting in the way you said her name. Her hand took yours as she kissed the inside of your wrist. “So much…” Her kisses trailed up your arm, with more of a meaning behind them than any of the kisses you’d given each other before. 

You moved your hand back to her face, turning her head toward you. She met your eyes, hers shining in the low light. They fell to your lips again and she leaned in, kissing your cheek. She kissed away every tear stain, still wet and warm. She moved closer and closer to your mouth, but never kissed you, kissing away the stains on your other cheek instead. 

Then you turned your head, catching her lips for a brief moment before she pulled back. There was a moment of hesitation, neither of you able to speak before she pressed her lips to yours. They were still cold from being out in the snow, but they warmed as you kissed her back, pressing your body impossibly closer to hers as she sighed into your mouth. She couldn’t tell you how long she had wanted this, but she knew it was long enough that her waiting for you was pathetic.

[honeytonedhottie]

trying to make a script?⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✍🏽

if ur curious about scripting, or are just looking for a way to have some fun manifesting something or saturating then u should totally try scripting. remember, its not the method that manifests, its the thoughts that do…💬🎀

WHAT IS SCRIPTING ;

scripting is a manifestation technique in which u write about whatever u wanna manifest (as if u already have it ofc) people like to script if they like to plan/write things down and all in all its a super fun manifestation technique that i like to do every now and then.

WHY DO WE USE SCRIPTING ;

people use scripting for all sorts of things. sometimes, we'll use scripting to script about something that we're trying to manifest as though we already have it. sometimes we script about our dream life and all the little details, or we'll script for a specific scenario to unfold in a certain way, the possibilities are ENDLESS.

HOW I SCRIPT ;

depending on what im manifesting, my scripting style will differ. but usually i like to do different styles of scripting, to kind of mix things up and have fun because its not the method that manifests, its ur THOUGHTS this is just a fun way to saturate ur mind.

♡ diary technique

so basically i'll write a diary entry like i got what i manifested. for example if im manifesting my favorite cake, my script would look like this (dear diary, today i woke up and in the fridge was my favorite cake ever!! im so excited, i already cut myself a slice and it smells so so good)…💬🎀

♡ specific scenarios

so if theres something im looking forward to or something that i want to happen, i'll write a script just like how someone would do for an actress. in the script i'll script out what someone says and does etc. for example if im manifesting someone to confess their undying love for me, my script would just be what i want them to say while confessing, and how i react, and i'd just play that scene over and over again in my mind…💬🎀

♡ interview/all about me

this scripting method is like ur being interviewed about a specific event that ur manifesting. lets say ur manifesting a promotion at ur job, ur script would look like (insert name), how did it feel to get _ promotion? (insert name) congratulations on ur promotion.

and if ur doing like an "all about me" page in ur journal, and ur trying to manifest waist length hair, ur script would look like this (hair length : waist length)

i rly hoped i explained everything in a way that makes sense but scripting is something thats just super duper fun and a rly fun way to saturate and manifest…💬🎀

[strniohoeee]

reader is down bad for matt, like she blushes, giggles, goes mute whenever he's around and he kinda enjoys it and one day he finally asks her to go an a date and it ends super fluffy

She’s Got It Bad

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N was out of her mind in love with Matt, but she was shy. Which left her in awkward silent situations until one day Matt puts his foot down! 🌷

Warnings⚠️: None?? Writing kind of sucks also sorry if there’s grammatical errors I never proof read till two days later after I post lolll😭

Song for imagine: This Is How It Feels- D4vd, Laufey

So this is how it feels

To fall in love with you

To always think of you

To always dreams of you

You know when you’re reading or watching a romance book or movie, and one of those super cheesy slow mo scenes happen? Where an 80s love song is queued and the two love interests stare at each other while their hair oh so dainty blows in the wind? And you’re curling your toes as your heart beats for the next scene to happen? Just thinking “I need more! Give me more!” And then it goes back to reality and they end up walking right past one another….

And it wraps you into this hour and a half or 230 page book/movie about the girl wanting the guy….but the guy not really wanting her or simply seeing her as a sister or painfully shoving her in the friend zone? And you’re itching for more. Tired of this back and forth of who will get one another first?

And if you said yes to any of those questions then you are sure looking at my life right now…stuck painfully stuck in the friend zone. Mainly because I put myself there. Let's face it, I'm deeply afraid of rejection. Why ruin something that is virtually perfect.

I had it bad for Matt and I’m not so sure he felt the same way, but I’d never in a million years ever jump at that. I’d rather rip my ears off and tape them to the concrete and then run them over consistently for an hour… okay a bit graphic and a bit over the top but you get the point. He’s off limits and I’ve got it bad for him…

Most of our interactions consisted of short conversations, me blushing like an idiot and even sometimes going silent..offering a nod here and there. It’s even gotten to the point of having to leave the hangout because I was so nervous around him. I mean what if I said something that he found cringey? What if I embarrassed myself which I tend to do a lot might I add? Or even worse…what if he didn’t find me funny?

All these terrible instances bounced off my brain like a bullet ricocheting off of metal walls. As I sat chewing my lip, suddenly my thoughts were interrupted

“Helloooooo” I heard loudly from the other end of the phone call

Blinking out of my trance I soon realized I had been on the phone.

“I’m sorry Nick I got side tracked” I replied gripping the phone again

“Yeah I can tell you went rogue for like 3 minutes there, did you even hear what I asked you?” He asked laughing

“Uhhh yeah and I think you should go with the yellow shirt” I replied praying I wasn’t so far off from what he was talking about

“That was like 10 minutes ago, I asked are you coming or what?” He said huffing

“I’m sorry? Coming? Where?” I asked again as I furrowed my eyebrows

“This is why I don’t call you, you have the attention span of a fly” he said laughing which caused me to laugh

“I’m sorryyyy I was thinking about something” I replied to him

“Aren’t you always… I was asking if you were coming over tonight for movie night?” He said shuffling around

“Ohhh duhh of course I never miss Saturday nights with you” I said getting up to pack my overnight back

“Even though Matt and Chris are joining us this time?” He asked

This is where I hadn’t been listening previously and I almost choked on my saliva trying to form a proper answer.

“Uh.. *ahem* yes of course they can join us” I replied trying to seem chill

“Wow sooo nonchalant about that” he stated sarcastically

“Oh will you shut up” I replied stuffing my duffle bag

Nick opened his mouth to speak but on the other end it sounded like someone walked in his room

“Matt get the fuck out I’m on the phone” Nick said which made me laugh a bit

“Who are you talking to?” I heard Matt ask his brother

“Your girlfriend now fuck off” he said almost hissing at Matt

“NICK STOP” I squeaked over the phone

“I don’t have a girlfriend you sicko” Matt stated sounding annoyed…. I looked up at my imaginary camera (hmm how do I take that response) I thought.

Shaking that feeling off I returned to the call

“Okayyy bye nickkkk see you in a bit” I replied rushing him off the phone

Hanging up the call I sighed deeply… if I wasn’t already nervous to possibly run into Matt then oh boy was I in for a treat

Usually, Saturday nights were for Nick and I and I rarely ever ran into Matt or Chris. Usually it was Chris and him and I had a cool bond. We’d stop to hug and chat for a bit before Chris left to go out. And if I ever ran into Matt it was him leaving with Chris which prompted me to wave slightly and avoid all hugs. Rambling on about Nick needing me for something upstairs each time and not even giving them the chance to respond.

I usually shut my eyes and shook my head when I turned away from them and even muttered a few unkind words about myself to myself….

But tonight…tonight Matt was joining us which meant I couldn’t be awkward around him or else Nick would for sure point it out.

I had gotten to their house with dinner for all of us which we landed on chilis…. Good thing I was 21 I needed a to go drink…preferably strong!

Sitting in their living room as we all began to eat, Nick scrolled through Max as we sat on the floor with our food on the coffee table.

“We should watch Silver Linings Playbook I heard it was good” I said looking over at the tv as Nick had just passed the movie

“I’m down” Chris said shrugging his shoulders

Nick and I usually watched action movies where we’d see a bunch of sweaty hot men fighting bad guys. And most of those movies we’d just yell out if we’d smash the guys or not. I don’t know that Matt and Chris would want to take part in that so a rom-com was for the win!

Max was playing a few ads before the movie and as I was sipping my margarita in a styrofoam to go cup (how niche) Matt had called my name

Looking over at him I raised my eyebrows at him.

“Do you like rom-coms?” He asked me

I felt my ears getting hot and my face too….good thing I’m drinking and I can just blame it on the alcohol.

“I do, I love them actually” I replied nodding at him

“I love them too” he said smiling at me as he ate a fry

“Nice” I said nodding my head and looking over at the tv…why the fuck were their ads still playing? Squinting I turned back around to face him

“Uhh what’s your favorite?” I asked him clearing my throat

“I’d have to say 10 things I hate about you” he replied wiping his hands

“SHUT UP! Me too” I replied getting really excited and loud (blaming it on the alcohol once again)

“No way” he replied laughing

“No! like I swear! I have all the romance movies I’ve ever seen ranked in my notes app and 10 things I hate about you is number one, look see” I replied rambling as I opened up my app and showed him

His brows raised…an impressed look might I add

“Wow Y/N didn’t know you were such a hopeless romantic” he said winning at me

This made my heart flutter and my voice disappear? Sinking into my skin I nodded at him before turning to watch the tv

Throughout the whole movie I kept catching Matt looking at me but he’d look away quickly. This made my skin crawl in a good way though

The movie finished and I found myself emotional. I mean it wasn’t a sad movie but rather beautiful. Nick and Chris had gone to lay on the couch at some point in the movie.

So to no surprise Matt and I turned to find them fast asleep. Shaking our heads we cleaned up the living room and headed to the kitchen to place everything in the trash.

The hallway light illuminating the kitchen as I washed my hands

“I almost feel like Silver Linings Playbook is my number one rom-com” Matt and I both stated at the same time

Laughing I shut the water off and turned towards him

“I guess we really are similar” I said to him as I crossed my arms over my chest

“I suppose so, but I wouldn’t know you’re always running away from me” he said quietly

“Am not!” I replied standing up straight

“You’re always running away from me as fast as possible, you don’t hate me do you” he stated as he wiped down the table

“No” I replied watching his every move

“Then why do you run away? Do I stink?” He asked laughing

“No! You just happen to catch me when I’m busy” I say lying through my teeth

“Right…I suppose so, I do know how to get you at the right time though” he stated throwing the paper out

“Do you?” I asked cocking an eyebrow

“Yeah…when I take you on a date and have all your attention so we can really get to know each other”he says

“Well we’re friends so I do know you” I reply rolling my eyes

“No…know me on a different level that’s not…friends” he says smiling at me sweetly

“Not friends?” Was all I could mutter

“Just say yes to the date you loser” he replied shaking his head

“Yes..sorry yes I will go on a date with you” I replied shaking my head and giggling

“You’ve ever seen Notting Hill?” He suddenly asks me

“I actually haven’t” I stated

“Want to watch it?” He asked me

“But Chris and Nick are sleeping” I replied pointing over my shoulder

“You miss queues don’t you?” He asked cocking an eyebrow

“They don’t call me a ditz for nothing” I replied jokingly

He looked at me with adoration in his eyes for a moment before opening his mouth

“I mean with me…just me” he replied with soft eyes

“Oh....yeah” I replied breathlessly as I shook my head…am I that fucking stupid? I thought to myself

We shut off the tv and the hallway light. Matt led me to his room as I followed behind. It felt so foreign being in a room with a new undertone to it….more than friends

“You can sit closer I won’t bite” he says as he looks over at me

“Right, sorry” I say sitting closer to Matt against the headboard

The air felt awkward as we watched the movie, but Matt slid his arm over my shoulder and pulled me in

“I’m not a stranger” he replied as he snuggled me closer against him

Smiling against him I melted into his touch as we fell asleep to a romance movie. I guess being shy does work out in the end and I’ve always had it bad for Matt but after today? You’re for sure thinking

She’s got it bad!

The End

I wasn’t sure how to end this…it’s so HARD TO END A STORY WTFFFF. Anywho we’re almost at 2,600 followers🥹🥹. Yall I could cry this means so much to me I remember when I had hit 100 followers and I never thought I’d make it this far. I’m so eternally grateful for you all😩🖤🖤. I know I don’t update three times a day everyday like I used to, but I’m so glad yall are sticking around till this day when I post once to twice a week every two weeks. I don’t deserve you, thank yall so much🥹💕💕💕. Stay tuned for more work baes

-J💅🏽

[mariclerc]

A late teenage dream☆ | cl16

Summary: In where you confess to Charles that he is your first love ever and how much that embarrasses you.

Warning: Nothing, just fluff Charles and him being lovely and patient as always.

Author note: Hi guys! I had thought a lot about writing this, because I think that many of us will feel identified with this topic, I personally feel very identified and I ended up crying like a dumbass. I hope you like it!

It was a fairly quiet night, you were lying in bed a little sleepy with blankets around you, next to you was Charles, his hand rested around your waist and with his fingers he made some circles in the area. His eyes were closed and to you, he looked like a Greek god or something. You have been dating for at least a year and every day feels very special and amazing with him.

"Mhmm... Charlie? I can't sleep." you said a little sleepily.

Charles opens one eye, and rests his warm, sleepy gaze on you.

"Anything on your mind, amore?" he said with a little smile on his face.

"It's just... sometimes I think about, you know... About us," you say with some hesitation.

Charles hums, drawing you closer to him.

"What about us, honey?"

"How we are... How you're... everything." you say quietly as you look down.

He nuzzles your neck, his breath tickling your skin.

"Everything? In what way, my little dreamer?"

"You're my first everything." you say quietly.

Charles tenses slightly, his brow furrowing in concern.

"Your first...? What do you mean, cara mia?"

"Well... My first date, my first boyfriend, my first kiss.... You're... all of that, Charles." I said as I looked down to twiddle my fingers, feeling very embarrassed.

He pulls back, his eyes searching yours. You see a flicker of surprise, then something softer, something understanding.

"I never knew princess. I... I thought maybe you were with someone before me... I mean, you're so beautiful, so kind, radiant. I couldn't imagine..." he says with a slightly husky voice.

You nod, a shy smile gracing your lips. "I've never had a date in high school. Guys just...didn't see me, I guess... Or maybe I was the one who didn't see them... Maybe I was a little shy and that's why I hid from the romantic scene." Your voice dips a little. "I used to think there was something wrong with me, you know? That I wasn't enough for anyone." You said as you looked away embarrassed, trying to ignore his soft gaze.

He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away a stray tear that escapes your eye. And the truth is that you were always the "spectator but never protagonist" type of girl, you always looked at your friends going out on dates, having their first kiss and they even told you the most intimate things about their relationships, somehow that made you question if there was something wrong with you and why no one ever asked you out on a date when you were 16.

"Never say that again baby! You are perfect, just as you are. And I'm so grateful you chose me, that I get the chance to be your first... I promise you, amore, I'll be sure it's the best fucking teenage dream you'll ever have." he said tenderly.

"You already have, Charles. Every touch, every smile... it's magic." you say while your eyes were shining.

He leans in, his lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss. It's slow, gentle, filled with a sweetness that makes your heart soar. As you melt into his embrace, you know he's right. This isn't just any relationship; it's a love story written in stolen glances, whispered promises, and the gentle unfolding of a first love.

You started to think for a few moments while he was kissing you... Is this how your friends felt about their boyfriends when they were 16? Did they have that tingling sensation through their veins every time they looked at them? Every time their boyfriends looked at them like Charles looks at you? Chances are, they were also feeling like you are doing right now, and even though your teenage love didn't come just when it was supposed to happen, it came at the perfect time for you! You really liked the idea that Charles was the right one for this experience. And somehow, at 23, it feels like the most perfect teenage dream come true.

As you pull away, a breathless laugh escapes your lips. "You were right," you say with a big smile. "This is better than any teenage dream I could've imagined."

Charles smiles, his eyes mirroring your own joy. "Good," he says, pulling you close again. "Because this is just the beginning, baby. Our very own love story."

And as he kisses you again, the lines between a teenage dream and real love begin to blur. This is your first love, but it's also a love story that transcends age and experience. It's a love that feels like coming home, a love that promises forever, and a love that you know, in your heart, will be worth every wait... It may have arrived a little later than expected, but it was worth every second of the wait.

[sorbetisfruity]

I feel like Neige’s ideal type is a literal princess/prince.

Like he sees you in the forest and you’re sleeping or dozing off and animals and insects are just surrounding you. And they’re not hurting you, they’re admiring you.

And he’s immediately like, “I want them.”

Btw, can y’all tell that I love Neige??? And Vil?? Sorry I write about them sm, but GAGSGVS I love them!!!!

Also this definitely ties into my little imagine I did a week or so ago about Vil being super mad if he ever found out you were close with Neige. This is how you two originally met!!!!

ᶻ𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓𐰁✰

You sigh as you step foot in the forest, feeling the wind blow through your hair.

You hear birds chirping and fluttering in the trees, and squirrels and rabbits skittering about.

Finally you get to hear something other than a boring lecture or Crowley.

Why are you here, you ask?

After some much needed begging from you (and your friends and teachers) Crowley is letting you have a week long break from school.

And thank the great seven for that, because god do you need it.

I mean, with 4 overblots back to back, and practically being the school therapist and Crowley’s lovely assistant…?

Yeah you’re definitely a little stressed. And you definitely deserve a break.

A break from school and everyone else.

Your goal today was to not talk to any of your friends. You love them but god, they can be a bit…obnoxious sometimes.

As you walk and think to yourself, you come across a clearing in the woods.

The clearing is covered in plush, green grass. Flowers of all colors grow around it, making it look like a bed meant for a fairy. The sun hits the clearing as well, making the grass just warm enough for a nap.

It looks like a scene from a fairytale!!

..a little nap wouldn’t hurt, right?

….

…right.

You stretch as you step over the flowers, not wanting to break or hurt them. And as you lay down onto the grass, you sigh contently.

This patch of grass was more comfortable than your actual bed back at Ramshackle!!

You close your eyes, listening to the buzzing of the bees around you as you fall asleep…

And as you snoozed away, animals gathered around you, looking at you as if you were some foreign being.

A butterfly lands softly on the tip of your nose, as a couple more cuddle up into your hair.

A rabbit nudges your hand, before cuddling up into your arm.

A doe lays at your feet, and a couple of cardinals and blue jays perch upon a branch by your head, chirping curiously.

You were surrounded and loved by animals and insects of all kinds, yet you didn’t stir from your slumber.

But suddenly, a twig broke, releasing a loud crack throughout the once silent forest.

The animals and insects turned their heads and came face to face with a boy in white.

The boy was young looking, short and had black hair. His skin was fair and well, to put it simply, he was absolutely gorgeous.

With big brown eyes and a round face, he looked as innocent and as sweet as can be.

“Why, hello there birdies!” He spoke softly, yet excitedly as the birds tweeted happily and landed on his out stretched hand.

“How are you guys doing today?”

The birds chirped in response, turning their heads towards you. Who, somehow, was still asleep despite the amount of animals around you.

“Oh..? And who..who is this?” The boy in white spoke softly once again, kneeling down and moving some hair out of your face.

He blushed softly, realizing that one, you’re sleeping, and two?

…you are absolutely ethereal..

“Who are you?..you look oh so..familiar?” You look like someone he’d see in a dream. A dream where he met a beautiful princess/prince and practically married them on the spot.

He touched your face with his hand. He touched you softly and delicately, as if you were made of porcelain.

Your skin was soft and flushed, a result of Vils skincare routine and the sun brushing against your face like a warm blanket as you slept.

Who were you?…

You stirred in your sleep, eyes slowly opening.

And as you began to wake up, the boy in white jumped up and ran the other direction!! Which startled a couple of the animals around you.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up is that your eyes were covered. And as you came more and more to your senses, you realized a butterfly was sitting upon your nose!!

“Well, good afternoon to you as well Mr. Butterfly.” You hummed, smiling as the butterfly flapped its blue wings happily.

“Here, I’m sure these flowers will be more comfortable than my nose.”

You picked up the butterfly gently and set it on a white flower next to you, giggling as it flew off the flower and instead found comfort on your head.

“Fine, fine. You may lay on me. But I really do think the flowers would be….more..”

You paused, looking around and seeing the surplus of animals surrounding you.

“Uh…when did I inherit a petting zoo?” You giggled to yourself, petting the rabbit softly.

The rabbit thumped the ground with its back paw happily as you pet it, leaning into your touch.

You stared up at the sky, realizing how late it was. Your nap was supposed to be pretty short, but it seemed it ended up a couple hours long.

You sighed, standing up and stretching. Paying no mind to the butterfly’s that flew out of your hair and onto the flowers surrounding you.

“It was nice to meet y’all, but I’ve gotta head back.” You spoke, scratching the doe behind the ear, “as soft as this grass was, I don’t think sleeping outside in the dark would be safe for me.”

You waved goodbye to your newly found animal friends, smiling softly as you began to make the walk back to Ramshackle.

But.

“Oof!” “Woah!”

You bumped into someone, landing on top of them.

“I’m so-” You started, before realizing how close you two were.

One wrong move and you two would definitely…

Ki…

No!!!!

Don’t think about that, this is a stranger!

You frantically scrambled off of the person, standing up and brushing yourself off before apologizing profusely.

As the person stood up, you realized it was a guy.

He was dressed in white, shorter than you, and, to put it simply? He was beautiful.

He probably rivaled Vil!!

(Never tell Vil that.)

He had black hair, a round face, and brown puppy dog eyes.

Overall? Total cutie.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going..” You broke the stare you two were holding, hands waving frantically.

“Oh please, it was all my fault!! Don’t worry. I’m fine. Are you okay?” He asked, his face twisted in concern.

“Of course I’m okay!! I landed on top of you, after all.” Oh My Goddddd why would you say that?!?!

“You probably took most of the hit.” You awkwardly laughed out.

“So, what’s your name? And are you sure you’re okay?” You questioned, breaking the silence.

You didn’t know who he was?

Neige wasn’t one to be egotistical, but he knew he was quite well known around Twisted Wonderland.

If anything he was expecting you to ask for an autograph or something.

But this? Someone who didn’t know him?

Now this was exciting.

And as he heard you talk more, he realized something.

He KNEW you.

No, no, not from a dream.

From the news!! From the papers! From Magicam!!!

You’re-

“*ahem*? Hey dude, you okay? Maybe you did fall a lot harder than we thought…I can take you to the nurse if you’d like!” You interrupted his train of thought, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Oh!!! No, no, I don’t need a nurse. It’s nothing. Just got lost in thought.” Neige giggled out, grabbing one of your hands.

“I’m Neige, Neige Leblanche! Who are you?”

“I’m-”

You’re Y/N L/N, you’re from NRA, and you’re the hero who’s been stopping overblot after overblot since the school year began.

He knows you. And he’s been wanting to meet you the moment he heard about you from Che’nya.

Neige stared at your eyes, getting lost in them as you spoke about yourself.

But he quickly snapped out of it when you asked him a rather interesting question.

“So, do you go to school here? I’ve never seen you around…if you were in a dorm? It’d definitely be Pomefiore. You’re way too pretty to NOT be in there!” You said, making his pale face turn pink.

The prettiest person he’s ever met just called HIM pretty!?!

Now he really thinks he’s dreaming…

“But you’re dressed in white. Kids at NRA don’t tend to wear white. Except for Kalim and me occasionally. And that’s only when Rook and Vil have some little outfits they wanna shove me in!” You joked, giggling to yourself.

“Oh no, I don’t go here! I go to RSA!” He spoke softly, ignoring the fact you knew Vil as he moved closer to you.

“That definitely fits you better,” you laughed again, “you look too nice and act too nice to be in NRA.”

“I could say the same thing about you too, you know.” He said almost immediately, the words slipping out of his mouth as smooth as butter.

Your face flushed, looking at him in surprise before looking away.

“I’d say you look even nicer than I do, Y/N.”

Your face darkened even more, not even daring to look him in the eyes.

Suddenly, you were hyperaware of everything.

Especially how soft his hand was on yours.

How long has he been holding your hand?

It’s so…tense.

Are you always this weird around pretty people?

“Anyways, it’s getting late. And pretty people need their beauty sleep, right? I think it’s time you head home, Y/N.” Neige smiled brightly up at you, moving into the next topic with ease as if he didn’t just fluster you to no end.

“But first!! Give me your number, or at least your Magicam. I wanna talk to you more!! You’re so interesting!”

You’ve told the poor boy practically nothing about yourself other than your name, yet he’s head over heels and ready to try and win you over.

You agreed, wanting to talk to him more too.

After all, there’s no harm in talking to a literal Prince Charming, is there?

“I’ll see you later, Neige. Goodnight, and sweet dreams.” You spoke tiredly, yawning as you began to walk away.

“Goodnight to you as well Y/N!! I’ll text you in the morning! Sleep well!!”

And as you walked back to Ramshackle, Neige couldn’t help but giggle in glee as he stared at your number and Magicam.

(You gave him both. You couldn’t resist his puppy dog eyes:(((( )

He can’t believe he met his princess/prince, it was just like a fairytale he’d read when he was younger.

Now, he just needs to make you fall for him!!

But how?

ᶻ𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓𐰁✰

I always end up making people unintentionally obsessive/possessive:(((

But luckily, I think it fits Neige.

Bro NEEDS his happy ending and he needs it NOW.

[a-mel0n]

Okay, so I know we joke about the whole “Invisible String theory” thing a lot for Bucktommy, but this idea just hit me like a fucking train and I feel like I’m going to explode if I don’t write it down. So, hear me out:

A Bucktommy “Your Name” AU.

If you don’t know about Your Name (go watch it it’s a good movie), the basic synopsis is that two people keep switching bodies when they fall asleep. The switches are fairly common, but they’re random and not on a set schedule. When they “wake up,” they only have faint impressions of their time in the other person’s body— like it was a dream. To keep track of what the other person does in their body, the pair write small “diary entries” at the end of the day to inform the original owner of the body what happened, and to just talk to the other.

Throughout the film, the two people slowly fall in love with each other before the switches suddenly stop, and all memory of the experience fades, including the memos they wrote each other. All that’s left is the faint impression that they’re searching for something, for someone.

So. Here’s my idea. The switches can start at really any point in their lives, but my idea is that they start switching sometime in Season 6, at least from Buck’s perspective. For Tommy, the switches start when he’s still at the 118.

A crucial part of the swaps is that they’re not only switching places, they’re also switching through time, which prevents the pair from actually meeting, because any attempt to meet someplace would just get fucked over due to the time difference.

They write each other small reminders of things they set up while in the other’s body on the other’s phone or on their body; a small set of rules of things to NOT do while they’re swapped; the occasional back-and-forth; the whole nine yards. Maybe you could have a fun scene of Chimney showing up at the 118 for the first time while Buck is in Tommy’s body and he has to slam his mouth shut everytime he goes to instinctively call him “Chimney” instead of “Howard” or “Howie.”

(Maybe that’s how Chim got his nickname in this universe, a whole bootstrap paradox situation.)

The swaps continue all the way up until Buck gets struck by lightning while in his own body, and that three-minute-eleven-second period where he’s dead is enough to prevent the swaps from ever happening again. Once he wakes up from his coma dream, he’s lost all memory of the swaps, and all the little notes that Tommy wrote on his phone are gone.

Despite that, he can’t help but feel like he’s missing something, or… someone. Someone dear to him, someone he couldn’t have possibly forgotten. And yet, no matter how hard he tries, he can’t remember anything about them.

(Actually… maybe there is a moment where they can talk to each other. While Tommy is passed out due to the gas leak in that mall, Buck is still in his coma dream, and they actually speak face-to-face for the first time. Maybe they promise each other to meet up after they wake up. But, once they do— they’ve forgotten all about the other.)

Tommy continues to live his own life, with this faint feeling that he’s waiting for something. He transfers out of the 118 and over to Harbor in order to satisfy that feeling, and while it does provide some relief, that feeling doesn’t go away. When Howie calls him to help the 118 out with that residential fire, that feeling of “waiting waiting waiting searching” blazes to life again, pulling him towards the ground and the people running around beneath him. It recedes fairly quickly, though, in fact— as he’s flying away from that neighborhood after preforming the water drop.

Buck, on the other hand, is in that post-lightning-strike state. He’s got his super math powers and the newfound appreciation for life, yet the feeling that he’s looking for something (a feeling he’s had all his life, independent of the swaps), has gotten a whole lot stronger and he can’t pinpoint why.

Then the cruise disaster happens, and he has to push those thoughts out of his mind, for Bobby and Athena’s sake. And then… Chimney calls in an old friend for a favor.

(“You and I… haven’t we… haven’t I met you somewhere before?”)

[neteyamslovrr]

KXANI - pt.1

summary: you have never fit in with the scientists, but on the night jake was lost in the forest so were you. staying with the people was your one true dream, yet when you are anything but welcome and jake get's to experience the people. you find yourself seeking comfort in tsu'tey

contents: 2.3k words, fem!avatar reader, set avatar 2009, kind of a prolouge, angst (only a lil)

authors note: i hope you guys enjoy this!! i'm really hyped to write a series especially my man tsu'tey. if this goes well definitely will be making a taglist so ask to be on it !!

all parts - next part

┌────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┐

It was all you had dreamed of since you landed on Pandora. To be with the people, to walk beside them. Well, behind them. You weren’t exactly welcome.

You still remembered the day you were chased through the forest with Jake, jumping into the waterfall on nothing but a will to live. You remembered Neytiri jumping in front of you, saving you both, you had never been more thankful and terrified of someone in your life.

You remembered how a group of men on direhorse threw ropes around your feet then continued to lead to the Hometree. It was surreal, to be with them. To live among them. But it wasn’t how you had hoped.

You hoped to meet with them, learn there culture and be able to retell your findings when you returned to your natural form. Yet, it was nothing like that.

It was because of Jake. He was the warrior of the ‘Jarhead’ clan. God, he was so intolerable but yet he was the one person who could understand your struggles of being with the people because he was right there beside you.

But with all you efforts over the years to learn about the Na’vi, it was nothing in comparison to him being tutored by Neytiri.

On the night when the Olo’eyktan decided to keep you both, it was rather a keep the man and his dog. They thought nothing of you, just another sky scientist. So, you weren’t entitled to Neytiri’s teachings, you were entitled to stare from far away and hope that maybe you could gain a bit of knowledge from observing the pair.

That’s what you were doing right now, crouching down hiding behind a lush shrub looking at the two talk to Tsu’tey as Jake sat in a puddle of mud. Maybe you weren’t missing out on too much?

Resting on the balls of your feet and long fingers keeping the bush apart you peered onto the ongoing scene. But Tsu’tey had disappeared. He must’ve gone off in a hurry, it wasn’t like he enjoyed the company of you two aliens anyway.

“You. What is wrong with you?”

“FUCK!” You jumped in fright falling to the ground looking up at an unimpressed Tsu’tey from above you. Your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest as you tried to regain your composure, shying away from the looming figure.

“Go home. You will not embarrass yourself like that there.” You desperately wanted to go back to your human form, but it wasn’t worth it. This, what you were experiencing was ground-breaking to your studies. Plus, Grace would skin you.

Pushing yourself off the ground, brushing the dirt off your grazed knee your stared up at him. How do you even respond to him? He was terrifying. Such a powerful figure it seemed stupid to stand up to him.

You were no Jake. You wouldn’t ridicule the future leader, and you were no ‘warrior’. You were truly just a useless being to them. Nothing to learn, nothing to gain.

“Tsa’hik has medicine for that. Go” You wished your feet would move. God, this is so embarrassing! Are you really paralysed in fear? Because of Tsu’tey. It’s laughable. You tried to move, but all you could do was stare into his unimpressed eyes and wish your link failed so you could escape this hellhole. “Are you ill?”

“No.”

“Then why are you not moving?” Sometimes you were grateful you learnt Na’vi so you could have more in depth and intellectual conversations with the people. This is not what you imagined your conversations would be.

“No. I am.” Tsu’tey scoffed at you. Fuck. What if you just died. Didn’t come back. Met Eywa and apologized for the inconvenience.

“You alien, should go. Fix whatever is wrong with you.” Yet he wasn’t leaving. You pleaded that he would leave in a huff, upset at stupidity. But he still stood there!

“I am afraid of you.” It was a meek whisper. Something you should never of said as your heart beated aggressively against your ribs as if it was trying to escape its chamber.

Tsu’tey let out the heartiest chuckle as he stared down at you. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap. Oh how you wished your feet weren’t bolted into the ground. He was genuinely amused. This was easily the funniest thing that had happened to him recently. And it was definitely going to be a story he was going to retell later on.

“So are children alien. You are like a child.”

“Thankyou.” You sneered up at him, still too embarrassed to meet his harsh gaze.

“Do you know where Tsa’hik is?” He tilted his head, his long braid falling over his shoulder as he peered down at you.

“I do not.” You tried to shovel down the shakiness in your voice, you could definitely cry right now.

“Of course, you don’t. Because you don’t belong here. I will take you to Tsa’hik. I would do it for a child.” He motioned for you to follow him as he rode off towards the base of the Hometree. “Hurry up alien child!” He laughed at his jokes as he pointed to you as he looked at other Na’vi also giggling at you as well.

What the fuck is your video log going to be today. ‘Got made fun of! Great find!’ This sucked! While Jake is learning the way of the people, you’re the people’s newest comedy act. 

Dragging your feet to the Tsa’hiks room you were ushered to sit on a woven colourful mat in the middle of this section of the tree. Adorned in decorative items and many medicines and herbs you found yourself being stared down by Mo’at.

“She grazed her knee falling from a squatting height Tsa’hik.” Tsu’tey still managed to find a way to make fun of you even when he was talking to a superior.

Mo’at scoffed at you, mumbling something under her breath you did catch a few words. But they’re not necessarily for repeating. “How did you fall?” Mo’at’s intimidating voice caught you off-guard. You didn’t think she would speak to you directly.

“I- um. Tsu-. Tsu’tey startled me.” It was an insane struggled to get out, to admit you had a slightly serious graze because the man chuckling behind you scared you shitless.

“Ah.” She couldn’t find it in her to hide her disappointment apparently. Shaking her head, she applied a pungent medicine to your knee. Surprisingly, it didn’t sting the only sensation was that it was particularly cold for a paste that had been sitting in the open. “Maybe it is useful to do some stuff around the village. We do not welcome demons, especially not parasites.”

Parasite? That is what she thought of you. Oh, that’s just lovely. It felt like your stomach decided to go skydiving and take a miles high leap out of your body.

“Send her back. She is parasite, not needed.” Tsu’tey said this sentence in English. He needed you to understand it, it was his every intention to. It hurt for some reason. Well not some reason he had said something incredibly hurtful. But it was so deserved, so justifiable. Didn’t mean it wasn’t incredibly upsetting to hear.

“We cannot. Jake is an odd dreamwalker. A new demon. She must stay as he does, it is Eywa’s will.” He was silenced at the mention of Eywa. No one would question her intentions not even yourself. “She must learn. You will teach.”

“What?!” Tsu’tey voice boomed out echoing throughout the hollow tree. Is this how Jake felt that night? Because the taste of bile was growing in your throat as you stared at the huffing man. Nononono. He cannot teach, he’ll slit your throat the minute he has the chance.

“She will not be a hunter, no warrior. But she can learn the ways of the people. Teach her Tsu’tey do not question my decisions young one.”

“….yes Tsa’hik…”

Times like these you wished you could go back to your human form. So that your emotions wouldn’t be so easily understood with the swish of your tail and movement of your ears. Still sitting on the floor of the Tsa’hik’s area your ears were pressed against your head and tail swishing quite frequently.

“Go to the river to wash off the paste soon. It will stain your skin.” Mo’at told your before you were being harshly stared at by Tsu’tey. You were yet to understand the way Na’vi must telepathically communicate. It wasn’t even a millisecond after Mo’at finished that she had gave Tsu’tey the look to take you to the river.

You just wished you could understand those looks as well. “Come now. We walk.” He was so assertive it was frightening, the way he commanded you with a single order, you were so respectful of his place in the clan. It did make him like you slightly more than Jake.

“Do not kill her.” Mo’at said harshly to the tall man as you felt that bile rise to your throat again. Kill. What a word!

“I did not plan on it.” Tsu’tey smirked as he wandered off expecting you to follow but you didn’t. You just stared at Mo’at for reassurance. A simple nod to say ‘Yes! Big scary man won’t murder you!’ and she must’ve sensed your desperation.

Mo’at gave a curt nod and ushered for you to go with him with a flick of her hand. With the reassurance of the Tsa’hik you walked with Tsu’tey. Well, behind Tsu’tey to the river.

Every step was awkward. The past on your knee was starting to dry and made cracking noises every time you bent your knee. The crunch of the leaves under both of your heavy feet were the only conversation between the two of you. Eventually, after the short walk. Though it felt long due to the silence. Was finished at the sound of the flourishing waterfall meeting your ears.

It was so powerful, yet so beautiful. It reminded you of something. But nothing was coming to mind so you decided to just focus on the rushing sound as you ended your journey.

“Well done demon. You made it.” His deep voice rumbled in his chest, he thought he was hilarious.

“Thankyou.” You knew it wasn’t a compliment from him, but what else were you to say. Jake would of found a better comeback but you couldn’t.

“You are funny demon.” He said it so nonchalantly but to you it felt as if your heart bursts into a million butterflies. A compliment from a Na’vi felt so special, you felt slightly appreciated. And for it to be from Tsu’tey made it 100 times more meaningful considering how much distaste he has for you and Jake.

“Thankyou Tsu’tey.” Your genuine smile was one he had not seen yet. It was a new expression. Obviously, it looked familiar as it was on the body of a Na’vi but there was something so bright about your smile he couldn’t shake off. It was just something weird he assumed. Demons do weird things especially when they’re in bodies they’re not meant to be in.

“The paste must come off. Or else your knee will be yellow for weeks.” You nodded and hopped into the water. It was about knee height, so you had to bend to move the water over your knee completely.

“Is there a specific way to get it off. It is a foreign medicine to me.”

“It’s foreign because you don’t belong here.” Tsu’tey was just so harsh with his words, they were said with so much power, yet he felt sincere. It was odd. So odd. “Give me your leg.”

“What do you mean? HEY!” Tsu’tey had grabbed your injured leg yanking it into his arms making you twist and fumble trying not to go headfirst into the water.

His long fingers wrapped around your shin as he used his other hand to cup water into his hand and covering the yellow paste. Every time you fumbled trying to balance he let a ‘tsk’ leave his mouth. His fingertips felt as if they were being burnt into your skin as he gripped your leg tightly.

“Stop moving. I am getting the paste off.” He looked harshly into your eyes, his golden iris’ staring straight into your own.

“I’m trying!” it was an exacerbated statement. Tsu’tey saw the way your ears flicked down and you tensed all the muscles in your abdomen to try and stay still.

He felt a pound of his heart call out to him to not be so harsh. But why? You were nothing but a demon. A complacent one, but still a demon. You were better than Jake in his books. You listened stayed out of trouble, didn’t hang out with his future mate. But you were so odd. Nothing like any of the other demons. You were too complacent, too shy, too fearful. It was odd. Maybe that’s why his heart pounded.

With a final scrub the paste was gone and he let you leg down gently, an abrupt change to the quick and harsh picking up of your leg before. “Thankyou Tsu’tey.” He simply hummed in reply giving you a curt nod. This wave of confidence had overcome you. It was like you felt dizzy with courage. “Tsu’tey.”

The way you said his voice was weird to him. It was pronounced so clearly as if it was the only word you had learnt to say in his language. “Yes?”

“I know that..uh never mind.” The confidence vanished as soon as he stared into your eyes once again. His whole body facing towards you, his mind and soul focused on the words coming out of your mouth. It was too intimidating especially now as he waited for you to say more.

“Speak. What do you know?” His deep voice was memorizing, the way his chest rose proudly every word he spoke. He was so intriguing.

“I know that you don’t like me… and that I do not belong here. But I would like to help, I don’t want to be a p-parasite.” The word parasite stung on your tongue, and it was obvious how Tsu’tey winced at the word as well.

Truthfully, he regretted saying it so clearly to you. He only regretted when he saw the way your tail swished and the shine in your eyes. Maybe that’s why he felt crazy. Maybe that’s why he felt kind towards you. Maybe that’s why he agreed so fast.

“Only because you are smart, not stupid like Jakesully. I will teach you demon.” He reached out to grip onto your shoulder. It was a moment you don’t think you’d ever forget. The way his fingers held tightly onto you, his eyes looked so sincere and the usual scowl on his face had disappeared and turned in a stern look on promise.

This was the look of friendship, of teaching, you were about to learn the way of the people.

└────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┘

reblogs + replies so appreciated, i love you forever if you do yes i mean it i love you

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

01/15/2024 Crew Recap

Hey all, today has been a very very very long day. I’m typing this with my eyeballs glazed over and half open. However, so much has happened in such a little amount of time I wanted share a few things before I pass out I know a lot of you are in different timezones, are busy with life, and taking a break, so maybe this will help with parsing through some of the crazy stuff the crew has been up to.

The petition hit 50K, and is at 52.5K at the moment

Fundraisers: I didn’t even realize there were two different fundraisers for Palestine/Gaza going on but we blew both out of the water. (Note: the second picture is from a November campaign but I think its just as important to highlight— ty for the correction anon!)

The Emmys hashtag turn out was great tonight. There was some pretty amazing and creative stuff going on across all the platforms. Some can be seen on IG, but if you wanna see the majority of it, check out twitter #SaveOFMD #75thEmmys

---We have new ways of protesting and advocating for our show, see here for the thread on tumblr (from twitter):---

And to support that @saltpepperbeard was kind enough to put together a wonderful guide on how to Call It Through as a Crew: Alleviating Some Phone Anxiety which as someone who is socially anxious and sometimes verbally vomits on people when on the phone, is AMAZING and thank you so much for doing that to help.

-- > There is also this new thread on some new places to call into. Don't quote me on that being an official thing we should do, I'm sure @renewasacrew and others will have more in the AM, I just wanted to share it so people could follow if they wanted to.

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New Articles!

Our Flag Means Death: Here’s why season three deserves to be aired

Petition to save BBC show with rare Rotten Tomatoes score gets 50,000 signatures

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There's so much more that's happened today-- but I can't write it all down because my brain is couscous.

<---So instead, I'm going to use this last part to gush over you all and your amazing contributions in all your unique ways. The community support the last few days has been SO INCREDIBLY UPLIFTING.-->

I saw (and experienced) people reblogging asks where random followers, anons, and mutuals just reached out and sent love because they could tell people were struggling.

I've seen comments all over the place on Tumblr, IG, Twitter, and Facebook where each and every person is encouraging each other to speak their mind, or complimenting their artwork, encouraging them if they were feeling uncomfortable with things outside their comfort zones, coming up with new and exciting ways to fight back, people reaching out to the cast/crew just to say hi and remind them we love them.

I've seen Self-Care checkpoints all over, reminding people to drink water, take a break, block your notifications for a while, not engaging in negative behavior.

I've seen people being so nice on instagram posts that the people who were being dicks about all our comments turned around and decided to watch OFMD!

I saw so many people doing new analysis of scenes and characters, and having really deep and friendly discussions that make everyone think in new ways.

I saw people digging through old tumblrs to bring life back to old posts and artwork.

I saw so much NEW artwork, new FICS! New GIFS! So much new art and love!

I could literally go on and on, but I've just...I had to dump this out of my brain otherwise I'd explode. I've just seen so much today that continues to make me so proud of our little safe space ship and so happy to be apart of this community.

You all continue to be the best of the best of humans, and I am so very grateful to get to witness and be apart of it. Rest up lovelies and have a good day / night, wherever you may be. May you dream of sexy middle-aged gay men kissing, or hugging, or whatever else you want them to be getting into.

[matchingbatbites]

You know how sometimes you think of a scene that belongs in a long fic, so you write the fic just so you can share that scene that started it all? I had one of those scenes come to me today, but you're not getting a full fic. Eddie is caught posing as Princess Nancy and is brought before Prince Steve.

Steven is going over the plans for the kingdom's expansion when the door slams open and Thomas and Jason step through. They appear furious, and held between them is Nancy, only- only she's half dressed, and she appears to be a he.

“What's the meaning of this?” Steven asks as he steps around the table, and the two men throw their captive to the ground before him. He crumples in a heap but still attempts to right his clothes where they've been torn from his person, trying to recover a bit of modesty.

“This imposter,” Thomas spits, “has been deceiving you. Carol saw him in the bath yesterday and discovered his truth. He's been posing as princess Nancy for his own sick gain and he must be properly punished for this indiscretion.”

“He should be hanged for it,” Jason says, his tone full of venom. Said imposter looks up, clearly terrified at the possibility, and his eyes plead with Steve as he says “My lord, please-”

“Silence!” Steven snaps, and all three go quiet. He looks between Thomas and Jason before giving the command of “Leave us. Now.”

The two men nod and each shoot the stranger a vile look before they exit the room. The prince stares down at the man, at this charlatan brought before him, and can only feel a sense of betrayal from someone he'd quickly grown to care for.

“Explain.”

The man takes a shaky inhale before he begins. “My name is Eddie- Edward. Nancy is my half-sister. When she received the news of her betrothal to you, she was concerned about your character. There were- rumors. I volunteered to take her place, to learn your true nature so she could make an informed decision about your union without having to abandon her duties.”

He looks properly ashamed of his actions, but it doesn't stop Steven's heart from breaking. Instead of falling in love with Nancy over these last weeks, he'd fallen for a farce, a sham.

“What was your plan for after? If you'd decided I was acceptable for her?”

Eddie hesitates, but says “She was going to return herself and reveal the truth to you.”

“And what? Pray that I wouldn't take offense to being tested?” He scoffs, and Eddie winces at the sound.

“Thomas and Jason were right,” Steven says, unable to keep the hurt from bleeding into his voice. “You were lying to me.”

The man looks up at him, his gaze open and pleading once more. “Only about my intentions. I swear to you, where my feelings are concerned, I've only ever spoken the truth. I'm- I was never supposed to fall for you myself.”

It echoes what Eddie-as-Nancy told him the other night as they walked through the gardens, the soft ‘I do believe I'm falling for you, your majesty,’ meant only for Steven and the roses and the stars. He thinks about the hours, the days he's spent with this person. With this man, who has shown Steven a mere glimpse of the love he's always dreamed of.

“This plot is the most foolish, most ridiculous thing I've ever heard of,” Steve says, and Eddie's head drops with a sob. Steve feels weak at the sound, and he falls to his knees before Eddie. He takes the man's hands in his own, and shining brown eyes look up at him in disbelief. 

“But I would be truly foolish to let you go. All I've wanted in life is for someone to love me for my truest self. You’ve shown me a future where that desire is not just a dream.” 

Eddie sobs again as Steven pushes a hand into those wild curls and tugs him closer, resting their foreheads together. “Sorry- I'm so sorry-” he stutters, and Steve shakes his head.

[flurry-of-stars]

𝓐𝓭𝓭𝓲𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷-𝓕𝔂𝓸𝓭𝓸𝓻

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: Mentions of death, cheating and murder 𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 1k (𝓐/𝓝: I was in the middle of working on a fic when Army Dreamers came on my Spotify and suckerpunched me with this little idea. It's more a ramble than anything sdjkfns)

Fyodor, who takes the body of the person who kills him. Who is cursed and blessed with immortality. Fyodor, who can come back over and over again. No matter what, he always returns to your side, looking just as he always did when he left you. Sometimes he comes back with a new outfit.

Other times, he comes back stained in blood, but he always comes back. And you always welcome him back with a kiss and a tight hug.

You never question him. You're just happy to have him in your arms again.

Fyodor, who, knowing about his immortality, would always deny you children. He knew how badly you wanted to start a family but he couldn’t bring new life into this world knowing he would have to sit back and watch his children die before his eyes.

Fyodor, who was heartbroken when you finally died during your first incarnation to old age. He remembers how even on the days leading up to your death, you would always comment on how you withered like a dying flower, while he stayed young and lively. You even teased him for his secrets of youth, asking playfully if he had sold his soul to the devil for his youthful look as you rasped and coughed. But to him, you never were a withering flower. You were always his beautiful garden of Eden, more vibrant and lively than you ever knew.

Fyodor who finds your second incarnation. Who courts you all over again. Who killed again and again but still returns to your side. Who never stopped loving you, even though you look nothing like your first incarnation but he knows its you by the way your eyes sparkle when you smile and the way you laugh.

He could never forget that sweet smile. It haunts his every dream. The one who takes you ballroom dancing. Who buys you the exact dress you want without ever pointing it out to him. Who styles your hair just how he knows you like it without any guidance. Who’s even more heartbroken when you pass in your late twenties to illness. You hadn’t even repeated your pleas to have children yet and he already lost you again. Fyodor who buried you with his own hands this time and stayed in the rain crying over your grave. Fyodor who seeks your third incarnation but finds you a little too late. You’ve already settled down with another man. You’re talking about starting a family, moving to the countryside to get away from the hustle and bustle of city life.

Fyodor who can’t let you go. Who flirts with you, swoons you off your feet and drives you to cheating on your husband. Who watches as your husband comes through the door of your beautifully decorated apartment one night and shoots you both dead when he catches you both in the act.

Fyodor who takes over his body next, fleeing the scene before the police arrive.

Fyodor, who after seeking you out time and time again, incarnation to incarnation, shattering a piece of his heart and soul over and over again, decides he can’t suffer like this anymore.

He, an immortal being, was never suppose to find love. He will be here until the end of time, while you’re destined to keep dying over and over again.  He can’t keep doing this to himself. You are his addiction, his drug and today, he’s deciding to cut off the supply. But he loves you too much to stay away from you for long. He writes you poems and books, letters that are never delivered that scream his love in it’s rawest form and leaves them hidden at your previous incarnation's favorite places, hoping and praying to God that you somehow find them. Fyodor who watches your one hundred and seventy-sixth incarnation from afar as you go about your daily life. Sees your struggles and your pains. He wants nothing more than to reach out to you, to embrace you and assure you everything is going to be okay.

But he doesn’t. Even as his heart screams at him to go and chase you. Even as he almost brings himself to tears watching you struggle. He can’t do it again. It’s too much. Too, too much… Fyodor, who several months after finding your latest incarnation, is making preparations to head to Yokohama to find the Book to rewrite his fate so he can finally be with you.

Immortality be damned. He wants to settle down with you. He wants to love you freely. To finally start a family with you and when the time comes, he wants to die alongside you. He can't do this anymore. He can't stand to watch you die over and over again and yet he can't let you go. You've woven yourself too tightly into the chords of his heart. Fyodor, who receives a knock at his apartment door in Saint Petersburg as he's finalizing his plans. Who tugs on his ushanka and cloak, murmuring a quiet “One moment please.”

Fyodor who opens the door to see your current incarnation standing there. Who freezes in place, cold eyes going wide in surprise as his hollow heart skips a beat, just as it did when he met your very first incarnation all those generations ago.

You, with a kind, warm smile on your face, one of Fyodor’s poems in one hand and a jar of small flowers in the other. The same ones he had left at your very first grave just yesterday with that same small cluster of primroses in a jar. Fyodor who feels his heart falling for you all over again as you praise his beautiful, heartfelt writing and expresses how grateful you are to the person who directed you to his apartment after you asked around about the name left on the poem.

Fyodor, who can't resist inviting you in for tea.

Fyodor who knows he can’t stop loving you. Who knows no matter how many times you die, he will always seek you out. You are, after all, his weakness. His eternal lover. His addiction. 

Dividers: @/saradika 𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 (first time trying this so I hope it works! (๏д๏) ) @tecchoussuperlady @hearts4heidi @lovestruckbook @wixxlemuff @twinkaesop @ladylntrovert @yonseibananamilk @honeyangelsblog

[plzfeedmebread]

Hold My Hand and Never Let Go

word count: 3360

Pairing: Jake Sully x Female! Omatikaya! Reader Tags/Warnings: adults only, smut, sex, mating, bonding Summary: Older sister of Neytiri, younger to Sylwanin. After Jake successfully becomes one of the people, you take him to visit the Tree of Voices. All the while battling your feelings for him.

Author's note: The scene in Chainsaw Man where Makima and Denji lewdly hold hands inspired me to write this. Was originally gonna be reader and Lo'ak but I wanted to make it lewd, so Jake it is! This is not proof read so apologies for any mistakes! I'll fix em up later~

When Neytiri first brought Jake Sully before the clan, like everyone else you were shocked beyond belief. You offered to cut him down where he stood, had she forgotten the sins of Demons and the Sky People? What they did to Sylwanin?

But by Eywa’s Will he is granted sanctuary amongst the clan. And much to your dismay, your mother, the Tsahik, puts you in charge of training this would be warrior.

Many moon cycles you spend together. It became excruciatingly clear how difficult the path ahead would be. But you persevered, powered by sheer determination and spite; Tsu’tey’s constant dismissal and antagonizing being the driving force.

Though he was future Olo'eyktan, and you future Tsahik, the two of you were not to be a mated pair. It was an unusual situation, but not entirely unheard of. Your parents knew all too well how much the two of you butted heads, always getting on each other’s nerves one way or another.

A compromise then; he would be mated to your younger sister Neytiri. She accepted, noting that he was a great warrior and a promising future leader; Sylwanin always spoke so highly of him.

You put him to the back of your mind, your only focus being Jake and his lessons. Slow at first, especially with the language, he eventually finds his rhythm.

And when he passed his Iknimaya, you were overjoyed beyond words. It filled you with such pride watching him fly his ikran as though he was a natural born Na’vi. Eywa must have truly blessed this man. The two of you giggled like fools as you flew side by side, teasing each other with fake collisions.

Neytiri laughed at your antics, while Tsu’tey merely rolled his eyes, deeming you two a bunch of children.

You couldn’t stop smiling as you painted him in white intricate swirls. And when father declared him one of the people, you smiled brighter than you thought possible. Watching everyone gather around to join hands upon hands, excepting him, you weren’t ashamed of the tears in your eyes. Your gaze briefly met Graces’, the two of you letting out soft laughs noticing each other’s tears.

The day was filled with merriment and celebration. Every artisan of the clan wanted his attention now, showing him their workings, honed by years of trade. Then day bled to evening, filled with feast, song and drink. And when evening bled into night, you stealthily pulled Jake away from the clan, wanting some alone time.

---

Hurriedly you pull him along, your footsteps leaving light trails in the earth. This was your most favourite time, the night, when Eywa was at her most beautiful. Even when the sun eclipsed, She never left her people in the dark; lighting the world in a brilliance of colour.

You giggle when you feel Jake playfully tug on your tail as you arrive at your destination; the Tree of Voices. The grove is awash in soft violet and pink hues, almost romantic in a way.

“This is a place for prayers to be heard, and sometimes answered.” You explain as you grab some of the tree. You connect your kuru and smile softly.

“We call these trees, Utral Aymokriyä, The Tree of Voices. The voices of our ancestors.” You watch as Jake connects to the tree, his pupils dilating for a brief moment.

“I can hear them…” He looks shocked, almost like a babe connecting to Eywa for the first time. You suppose that perhaps that was true in his case.

“When our energy is returned, we live on within Eywa.” He nods and disconnects himself. You touch your hands to his broad chest.

“You are Omatikaya now. You may make your bow from the wood of Hometree…” You hesitate for but a moment, turning from him you hold your hand out to an atokirina.

“…And you may choose a woman. Or man.” You smirk over your shoulder at him. You giggled at the disgruntled face he makes.

“Woman. Definitely woman…You’re unmated too, right? Can I ask, how come you never chose anyone? You must’ve completed your iknimaya long before I came around…”

He is of course right. There is a pang in your chest as you think on it. Once upon a time you would have been mated to Tsu’tey; but your clashing personalities made such a pairing disastrous. So by your own hand, you sabotaged your own future.

You could have chosen another man, but the fallout with Tsu’tey left you with such a strong impression, you couldn’t bare the thought of Eywa rejecting another union; least of all if it were to be your fault.

You curse yourself then, for the feelings burning inside you. As you stare into Jake’s golden eyes, you know with utter certainty, that you desire him. Your heart yearns for him, aches for his touch. He makes you feel comfortable, safe. Like you can express yourself in ways you wouldn’t to others, and he wouldn’t judge you for it.

You explain to him then, the falling out you had with Tsu’tey, and how it made you feel thereafter. Your heart beats fast in your chest, anxiously you search his gaze for anything close to disgust, almost waiting for an upturned sneer.

But it never comes. He simply smiles down at you, something akin to adoration in those eyes. It fills you with renewed confidence.

“And now…I think I am ready to choose a mate once again…But, he must also choose me.” You grab a hold of his hand, holding it to your face as you stare up at him once more. You watch as realisation slowly takes over, his eyes widening in shock.

“Me?”

You nod, leaning into his hand with closed eyes.

“Yes you…” You whisper into his palm. When you open your eyes once more, you don’t expect to see his face drenched in conflict.

“Jake…?”

“[Y/N]…Of course I choose you, but…”

Oh Eywa no, here comes the rejection. You curse yourself once more, you should have known better, should have kept quiet.

But he doesn’t say anything more. You notice he is looking at his own hands, once pinching the palm of the other. He’s grimacing, lost in his own thoughts.

“The people accepted me, and I’m grateful, really I mean that, I couldn’t be happier…But a part of me still feels, because of my demon blood, can I really be true Na’vi? And, what if something happens to this body? Or, or what if something happens to the link bed I’m lying in? Are you sure you wanna risk being with someone who could drop dead at any second?”

You heart breaks. You had no idea he had been harbouring such thoughts, such insecurities. You grab his face in both your hands, pulling him to meet your eyes once more.

“You are more Na’vi than you give yourself credit for. Eywa saved you in that forest from my sister, and it is by Her Will, that you stand before me. Do not ever doubt yourself like this, you hear me? The man I see before me is not his past, but the future he needs only to reach out and grab with both hands.”

Jake’s lips quiver slightly, but he swallows his would be tears and instead smiles down at you. It feels like the sun kissing your skin. He hands move to grab your face in turn. He says nothing, but slowly leans forward. You tilt your head as you lean closer to him. He stops just shy of touching you, as if to give you one last chance to back away.

Not a fucking chance.

You close the gap without a moment of hesitation.

When your lips meet, you can’t help but inhale sharply. The feeling of his soft lips on yours, it is as though something burst inside you; flooding you with a calming warmth. It seeps into your very bones, bringing an unexpected relief, and a sense of Home.

Tentatively, he moves his mouth against yours. Each move slow and meaningful. His thumbs gently caressing your cheekbones. You press yourself harder, deepening the kiss. He moans into your mouth when you do, and he feels you smirk against him.

Cheeky.

He licks your bottom lip, and when you squeak in surprise, he wastes no time invading you with his long thick wet tongue. Your legs feel weak as he explores every part of your mouth, from the tips of your fangs, to the slick of your own tongue. The two of you tangle in each other, tasting, lapping up each other, until the need to breath becomes too much.

Slowly you pull away, laboured breath mixing with one another. He rests his forehead against you, his eyes search yours, though you know not for what. You kiss him lightly on the nose, giving him the reassurance he so desperately seeks.

You take a step back, grabbing his hand in yours as you lower yourself to the ground. When the two of you are knelt before one another, you hold his hand up to yours.

“When Na’vi mate…It is a life long bond. We connect our kuru, our queues together. Through it, you will feel what I feel, and I you…Na’vi are taught from a very young age, how sacred this bond is. It is the most spiritual way you will connect with someone, other than Eywa herself. So it cannot happen, until you find your one true mate…It is also, very, very erotic…Or so I’m told,” you can’t help the blush that adorns your face.

You notice though, that Jake doesn’t seem to be shy at all. He looks at you with such reverence. But there is also something behind his gaze, you dare say, almost predatory. As you he would devour you given the chance. The thought alone excites you, a spark igniting a warmth deep within your loins.

“So you tellin’ me young Na’vi teenagers don’t fool around?” You let out a short laugh at his question.

“Some do. But not always. The urges of the body can take over, but tsaheylu will always be sacred. And for some, they would rather share their first time with their mate.” He nods at your explanation.

“So have you ever…?” You shake your head in response.

“Have…you?”

“…In my Sky People body, yeah…” You nod in understanding; the revelation doesn’t surprise you. His people had different cultures from yours, and you mostly chose to remain untouched due to your own fear of rejection.

“Are you nervous?” He asks and you nod.

“But…It’s something I’ve thought about for a very long time…” Your fingers graze his palm, before you slide your fingers between his and gently hold his hand.

“I believe, mating, having sex, the better you understand the other person, the better it feels…I often wondered what my mate would look like…How long, would his fingers be?” Up and down your lithe fingers stroke the space between his own.

“Would his palm be warm, or cold?” You gently grasp his hand, bringing it to cup your face.

“How would it feel, to have him caress my ears?” You press his fingers around the tip of your ear. You bring his other hand to your mouth, gently taking his thumb between your teeth.

“How would it feel, to have him in my mouth? Taste him on my tongue?” Slowly, you let your tongue glide over his digit, sucking him into your mouth. Jake audibly gasps as you, you hear his tail swish behind him excitedly.

You remove his thumb slowly, pressing a kiss to the tip before you move his hand back down. He gulps audibly.

“You, sure you haven’t done this before?” His voice is anxious, and you revel in that fact.

“I am sure…Now, come. Let us mate before Eywa, ma Jake.” You move your queue to the space between you to, and he mirrors your actions.

You watch with baited breath as the pink tendrils seek each other, slowly entwining in brilliant white.

The feeling that floods you is near indescribable; a euphoria done little to know justice from words alone. It is as though you have lived your life as but a portion of a whole being, suddenly made whole through the bond. You feel his heart beating fast in his own chest, but also reverence he holds for you; as though you were the one to paint the stars in the sky, or hold moonlight in your hands.

He pulls you to him, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He bites and licks at the sensitive flesh, eliciting soft moans from you. The unexpected pleasure he feels through the bond pulls a low moan from the back of his throat.

His hands are on you, exploring you, every inch of skin set alight as his fingers glide over you. His mouth trails kisses down to your chest. He gives your nipple a teasing lick, before taking the bud into his mouth. He sucks and licks until it perks, then moves to do the same to the other. Your fingers thread through his hair as he does, short gasps leaving you as he does.

The pleasure travels down into your loins, the warmth slicking your walls.

Once he’s satisfied, he sits up to press his mouth to yours in a bruising kiss. He is far less gentle this time, mouth dominating your own for control, tongue lapping and invading your mouth without warning.

His hand travels down to your sex, gently cupping you through your loin cloth. You moan shamelessly into his mouth as you feel him gently stroke you.

The pleasure is soft and gentle, with a promise of something grand in the distance. But this friction is not enough. You whine when he grazes your clothed clit, and it’s all the indication he needs. He tugs at the hem and you hurriedly undo the seams.

His hand his on you again, fingers gently prying into your aching core. When he feels the wetness of you, he moans and breaks the kiss.

“This all for me baby? You’re so wet already and I’ve barely touched you,” he nips at your lip. You gasp as he coats himself in your juices, then gently start stroking your clit.

“J-Jake…” His name feels like a prayer from your lips.

Slowly he moves into you, pressing one finger into your throbbing pussy. He moves his thumb to rub your clit, all the while he pumps that singular long digit in and out of you.

Your cunt sings with a pleasure you never thought possible, your walls becoming wetter with each deft stroke. The pleasure spreads to every inch of you, ecstasy dancing on every nerve. The pleasure only grows when he inserts a second finger. The coil inside you tightening, the promise of orgasm growing ever closer.

Your hands wrap around his shoulders, pulling him as close to you as possible. You can’t help but grind yourself against his hand, your body demanding more friction.

“Yes, yes, yes ma Jake!” Your voice sings his praises and he quickens his pace.

“That’s is baby, you’re so close I can feel it. Cum on your mate’s fingers,” He moves his mouth to your ear and bites down gently. With one final pump of his fingers you cry out loud as your orgasm hits you. Your walls clentch tightly to his fingers, all the while his thumb gently strokes you as you ride out your pleasure.

When the sensation becomes overwhelming, you whine and tap in on the shoulder. Thankfully he relents, and slowly removes himself from your core.

But the night’s not over yet, and you feel as though that was but a taste of the whole meal.

You can feel his hardened cock aching through the bond.

Instinctively you lay on your back, pulling him with you. You spread your legs as wide as you can, and he nestles between. He removes himself from the constraints of his clothes.

Slowly he rubs his member up and down your slit, lubricating himself as he pumps his hand up and down.

His eyes find yours. Your hand rests beside your face, and he threads his fingers with yours. He squeezes and you squeeze back, nodding your head.

Slowly he starts pushing himself inside you. The feeling is strange and unfamiliar, perhaps even a little uncomfortable. He takes his time though, and you feel the strain of his willpower to move at such a pace. Once he is buried to the hilt, he lets out a shaky breath, resting his head beside you. His laboured breath tickles your ear.

He’s waiting for you to get used to the feeling, giving your body a moment to adjust to the stretch. The uncomfortable feeling from before doesn’t take long to subside, and is instead replaced with a soft pleasant feeling.

You kiss his check, and gently grind yourself against him, encouraging him to move. He groans into your ear, the deep guttural sound of his voice tickling your stomach.

He slowly removes himself, just before the tip, before slamming right back into you. The pleasure that hits you is so sudden you can’t help the loud moan it rips from your throat. He doesn’t wait this time.

With reckless abandon he’s pounding into you, his cock moulding itself into your throbbing walls of your needy pussy. Each thrust makes the most lewd squelch of wetness and flesh you have ever heard. It arouses you even more.

Faster he fucks you, the coil of pleasure tightening once again, threatening to snap at a moments notice. His moans are low and breathless, curse words sprinkled in between as he rides his pleasure within your centre.

Your legs wrap around his waist, allowing his dick to hit a place even deeper than before. Your eyes shut tight as the pleasure nearly overwhelms you. You feel his other hand cup your face, the other still holding your hand tight.

“Open your eyes, [Y/N], please. I wanna see you when you cum.”

With some effort, you open your eyes to lock your gaze with his. The feeling in your heart explodes a million times over as you feel his love for you through the bond, and the joining of your sex. It brings tears to your eyes.

“I love you Jake—my mate—my Jake—forever! I’m so close! Please! Don’t stop!”

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you too [Y/N]…Cum for me again baby, let me feel you one more time.”

The cord snaps and your orgasm hits you hard. The moan from your lips burgeoning on a scream. Your cunt squeezes his cock for all it’s worth. The pleasure burns pleasantly from your clit to the tip of your kuru.

Jake continues his brutal pace while you ride out your orgasm. The sensations that flood him through the bond are enough to bring him to his own release.

“[Y/N]!” With your name on his lips, it only takes a few more thrusts before his burying himself as deep as he can, your pelvis bone aching, as he paints your walls with his seed.

He gives you a few more hard thrusts as he rides out his orgasm.

Finally he collapses on top of you, both of you well spent.

He rolls himself onto his back, pulling you with him. He doesn’t remove himself from you, nor does the bond release.

You lay on top of him then, head reasting on his chest. You listen to the rapid beating of his heart; it fills you again with the feeling of home.

Your hand idly traces the glowing stars on his chest. You are both warm and sweaty. Sticky from your exertions. The air is thick with the scent of mating. But neither of you mind.

One arm wraps around you, securing you to him. He brings his other hand to yours, entwining your fingers in a tight embrace.

“I love you, [Y/N]…”

“I love you too, ma Jake. Hold my hand, and never let go.”

You squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back.

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Remember You Even When I Don't (5)

Summary: A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement.

Words: 5.4K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw/Reader (no use of y/n, so can be read as unnamed oc)

Warnings: angst, hospitals, memory loss, language, eventual smut

Notes: The response for this continues to blow me away. Thank you all so much! Hearing your thoughts about these two makes me so happy and is so encouraging to write a little bit faster. Please continue to comment and reblog, and my inbox is always open! I love to talk about these two :)

This was inspired by a one shot by the lovely @roosterforme and would not exist without her assistance. If you haven't read any of her stuff, please check out her masterlist - you won't be disappointed! All of the thanks to her and @mak-32 for being the best cheerleaders and friends I could ask for!

Buckle in, folks!

-----

He spends that first night tossing and turning, fighting to find sleep. It’s hard for him to be down the hall, knowing you were so close, yet so far out of his reach. In only a few days, he had gotten used to falling asleep and waking up with you in the chair beside his bed. The next morning, you somehow look more tired now than you had the whole time he was in the hospital, and he was sure that he was the same. 

Being here was different than he anticipated. Part of him expected to walk into this house and have every memory he’d lost rush back to him in technicolor. He was disappointed when that didn’t happen, and he thinks that even if you won’t say it, you are, too. 

He didn’t remember anything, but his instincts were there. He knew which drawer held the utensils and which cabinet housed plates and bowls and which one had coffee cups. He knew where the two of you kept Florry’s food and that her treats were kept in one of the drawers in the coffee table. It was muscle memory, he supposed. 

But his brain tickled sometimes, like it wanted to remember something but couldn’t. He often felt that frustrating sensation of something being right there on the tip of his tongue, but he’s unable to produce exactly what it is. 

He dreams every night. His subconscious creates scenes of flying and crashing ocean waves, of snow covered streets and twinkle lights. He swears your laughter echoes in his ears when he rouses to consciousness. 

He doesn’t know if they’re memories, or if they’re figments brought on by the yearning he feels toward you the longer he’s around you. Either way, they’re never quite clear enough for him to even ask you about them. But he sneaks into your office one night and swipes a pen and a pad of sticky notes and takes to writing down all the details he can recall when he wakes up. 

Over the first few days of being home, the two of you get into a tentative routine. You somehow wake before he does, and there’s coffee waiting for him when he makes his way downstairs. You’re not much of a breakfast person, but you make him eggs and bacon and toast or whatever he’s in the mood for, even if he insists you don’t have to. You take him to his follow up appointments or evaluations, which takes up his time until the early afternoon. The two of you have taken to grabbing lunch while you’re out everyday, before going back to the home you share and making yourselves busy until dinner.

He finds himself wanting to touch you more. There were no more forehead kisses, but his knee will knock against yours sometimes when the two of you are eating. He always holds the door open for you whenever you two are out, and sometimes you’ll brush against him just so when you’re passing by. When the two of you are walking somewhere, his fingers twitch to hold onto yours. He’s taken to placing his hand near your lower back, not quite touching you, but close enough where he can feel your body heat. 

You like to curl up in the corner of your sectional couch, and he feels like you’re a million miles away when he sits on the other end. 

Getting to know you again is a whirlwind of feelings he doesn’t understand. You’re kind, and beautiful, and you make him laugh. He has near constant butterflies in his stomach whenever you’re around. 

He knows himself well enough to know that he’s developed feelings for you, and the concept makes his head hurt, knowing this isn’t the first time but not remembering it. He doesn’t mention it to you, because he doesn’t know if it would make things better or worse. 

He wants to ask you questions about the two of you, too. You told him how you met, but he wants to know what your first date was like. He wants to know who said I love you first, though he thinks it was him. He wants to know how he proposed after only 4 months of knowing you and he wants to know why you said yes. 

He wants to know everything, but he can’t bring himself to ask. Part of him is scared of the answers.

He’s seen the way you look at him, sometimes. Like it breaks your heart for him to be there with you, even though he knows how relieved you are for him to be. You don’t say anything to him, but he knows that you’re struggling. You do your best to always keep a smile on your face around him, but it’s your eyes that give you away, combined with this deep instinct he seems to have when it comes to you and your emotions.

After dinner every night, you’ve been finding yourselves sitting out on the back porch. The weather has been getting cooler and watching the sun go down with you has become his favorite part of being home. You avoid anything too heavy, too intimate, but you regale him with different tales from the last few years with your friends and your individual careers, or of you before you knew him, but the light in your eye is dim whenever you finish a tale and there’s no recognition in his. 

He’s worried about you, but he doesn’t know if he has the right to tell you that. There’s something of a tension building in the air, and he can’t figure out how to cut through it just yet.  

But he enjoys getting to know you again, and he hangs onto your every word. He loves every single moment the two of you have together and craves more of them. Even the most mundane of things, like when he went with you to the grocery store of all places. Phoenix had loaded their kitchen with essentials, but there was a specific recipe you were wanting to make that you swore he would love but that you needed a few things for. You looked surprised when he had asked if he could go with you, but pleased at the same time. 

He pushed the cart as you checked things off your list and god, he loved watching you. You were looking up and down the aisle you were standing in, seemingly a little puzzled, and he was completely enraptured. 

“I can never remember where the dates are,” you muttered, and he thinks it might have been only to yourself, but he couldn’t help but smirk a little bit. 

“On a calendar?” 

You shot him a look, looking incredulous but amused, and smacked him lightly on the arm with the list you were carrying. The touch sent a shot of electricity through him and he laughed, feeling warm. “Ow.” 

“Okay, you comedian,” you rolled your eyes playfully, “I was going to make you dessert, but maybe I won’t now,” 

“No, come on,” he laughed, pushing the cart forward, nodding his head to the side, “They’re in the next aisle over,” 

You stop walking, and after a second, Bradley does too, realizing what he just said. He turns to you and you’re looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes. He thinks he might see a little bit of pride in them, too. And it’s so silly, getting choked up by instinctively remembering where something is in a grocery store he can never remember being in, but he feels a lump in his throat anyway. He coughs, trying to dislodge the emotion. You don’t say a word, maybe sensing the moment that he’s having, but you squeeze his arm when you pass by him on your way to the aisle he indicated. After a moment, he follows behind you. 

He thinks he would follow you anywhere. 

————

It’s a Friday and he's been home for eight days now. He has a headache when he wakes up that morning, and he can’t remember anything notable from the previous night's dream to write down in his notebook. Part of him wants to go back to sleep and try again, but he pushes himself out of bed anyway. 

Like she had been the last few days, Florry is laying at the guest room door when he opens it. She looks up and meows at him, nuzzling into his hand when he squats down to scratch her head for a moment before she gets up and struts away. He snorts at her, amused at how as soon as she gets what she wants, she moves on to something else. 

He makes his way downstairs slowly, feeling like a drum is pounded right in his ear with every step. There’s a distinct spice in the air as he walks toward the kitchen, and it takes a few sniffs before he places it. 

“Pumpkin?” 

To his surprise, you gasp, and the knife you were holding slips from your grasp and clatters to the granite countertop. You jumped back from it, but your wide eyes were looking straight at him. 

“What did you just call me?”

“What?” 

“You said - you called me Pumpkin.” 

This was one of those significant moments that he was missing. Bradley suddenly felt incredibly awkward, and a little ashamed. A flush crept up his neck to warm his cheeks in the worst way. 

“I uh - I was talking about the smell.”

Watching your face fall cuts him worse than the knife you had been holding ever could. For a brief moment, he saw raw devastation completely overcome you. He starts to say your name, but you cut him off before he can.

“I’m making pumpkin banana pancakes,” you tell him after a moment. You pick the knife back up to continue cutting up the fruit you had on the cutting board. He wants to ask you what had just happened, but bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself. He’s frustrated that he can’t remember, and the hurt in your eyes was making his head pound harder. He hates that he’s putting you through this. 

The two of you eat breakfast together, but it’s quieter than it normally is. The air was awkward, tense, and it seemed that neither one of you really knew what to say. 

The day had only gotten worse from there. He was late for his doctor's appointment because the two of you had gotten stuck in traffic, and there was little he hated more in life than being late. His headache had only gotten worse, and he hadn’t been cleared to drive or go back to any sort of desk duty yet. To top it all off, the two of you had run into someone you knew during a near silent lunch and he had to awkwardly push himself through the conversation while pretending he did, too ashamed to actually say he had no idea who he was. 

By the time you returned back home, he was in a sour mood, and he really wanted to go back to bed. 

“Do you need anything?” you asked softly, hovering between the kitchen and living room as he settled himself on the couch unceremoniously. 

“No,” he said shortly, pulling a blanket over him. 

You sigh, and he’s irritated with himself for making you feel bad, too. 

“I’m going to go up to my office for a bit then, okay?” he doesn’t respond. When you sigh, he’s irritated with himself even more for making you feel bad, too. “You can come up and get me if you need anything.” 

Bradley tries to nap the afternoon away, but it’s more fitful than restful. He tosses and turns on the couch. Florry jumps on him at one point, waking him from one of his dozes. 

He closes his eyes, trying again to find some sort of sleep, but nothing comes for him. His mind was moving a little too quickly now, and the guilt was setting in. He had been short with you almost all day, and even if he was frustrated, you didn’t deserve that. You were frustrated too, even if you wouldn’t say it. 

Sometimes he wishes you would.

Why the hell did this happen to him after everything else in his life?

His dad, and then his mom, and Mav pulling his papers. He still hasn’t brought himself to reach out to the man he had apparently reconciled with, but you’ve mentioned how he’s asked after him whenever the two of you speak, as had the rest of the crew. It’s frustrating, suddenly having all these people in his life who he views as family, only to have no recollection of who they are. Seeing himself in all of these pictures that are throughout the house constantly boggles his mind. He hates being so confused all the time. 

He hates that he can’t remember you, and that you spend all of your days trying to be strong for him. 

He groans, running a hand roughly over his face. After another 45 minutes of staring at the ceiling fan spin, he throws the blanket off of his legs and forces himself up. He couldn’t do much, but he could at least apologize. 

He drags himself up the stairs slowly, trying to figure out exactly what to say. The door to your office is pulled closed for the first time since he’s come home; he tries not to read into that as you wanting him to stay away. He goes to take a step closer and knock, but your voice through the door stops him. 

“The timing is awful, Jake.”

His eyebrows furrowed together. The only Jake he knew was Hangman, and he hasn’t wrapped his mind completely around the fact that he was apparently one of his best friends now. 

“Bringing a baby into this would make everything so much more complicated. He’s struggling enough as it is. You think suddenly becoming a father would make this all better? The test being negative is for the best.” 

He sucks in a breath, feeling like he just got suckerpunched right in the stomach. He braces himself against the hallway wall with one hand, unsure if he heard you correctly. 

“I’m okay,” you say, and he wishes he could hear both sides of the conversation. He feels like he’s going to pass out. “I promise.” 

There’s another pause, and you let out a small laugh, “I might take you up on that, J.” 

Bradley backs away from the door, his mind going a thousand miles a minute as he tries to process what just happened. 

A baby? You were talking about having a baby. You had mentioned a test. Had you taken it recently? Since he had been home? Why hadn’t you told him, if you had? Was this something that had happened before his accident and just another thing that he forgot? 

He’s your husband. He may not remember it, but he was. Didn’t he have a right to know? 

He stews for a while, and that’s his biggest mistake. He’s scared, and bizarrely disappointed, he’s hurt, but most of all he’s angry. He’s angry that you’re talking to other people about something so personal, but not him. And Hangman, of all people. It festers inside of him, and by the time you come back downstairs, he’s sizzling in it.

“How does chicken and asparagus sound for dinner?” You’re smiling as you walk into the room, but it drops when you see the look in his face. “Are you alright?”

“You thought you were pregnant?”

The color drains from your face, and he knows he has his answer. He stands up from the couch to face you, his thoughts jumbled together, fighting for dominance in his head. You had thought you were pregnant. And you didn’t tell him. 

“How did you know that?” 

“I overheard you on the phone with Hangman,” he practically spits the name, feeling his anger swell even more. “When did you take it?” 

“Bradley-” 

“When did you take the test?” 

You let out a long, shaky breath. You’re twisting your ring around your finger again, and your eyes are starting to glass up, but he forces himself not to focus on any of that. “Yesterday,” you admit softly, “I took it yesterday.” 

He groans, running a hand through his hair. You both had been in this house almost all day yesterday. He had been right here. “Why wouldn’t you tell me? I could have been there with you!”

“Bradley-” 

“Why wouldn’t you tell me that we’d been trying to have kids before I got hurt?” 

“Bradley, I really don’t think we should talk about this right now,” you said, trying to remain as calm as possible, but he was already way past that point. 

“Well I want to talk about it,” he snaps, “Why would you keep this from me?”

“I’m not keeping anything from you!” you say, your voice rising to meet his. “We aren’t trying for a baby, Bradley. It was a scare. That’s all.”

“But you still took a test! And you didn’t tell me!” 

“There was nothing to tell,” you try, but Bradley shakes his head as his anger reaches a boiling point. 

“Not to me, apparently. You told fucking Hangman about it, but not me? Aren’t I the one who is supposed to be your husband?”

“Yeah, Bradley. You are,” you finally snap, your voice raising for the first time, “But how the hell was I supposed to tell you when you don’t even remember who I am?” 

It was a low blow, but Bradley has never been one to back down.

“I’m trying!” he yells, and you startle back at just how loud he is, “I’m trying every single day. You think I don’t want to remember you? Someone I apparently almost had a kid with? Someone who I want to care for and protect even though I have no idea why? I know this sucks for you, but think about what I’m going through here.” 

“You think I’m not thinking about you?” you demand, shaking your head, “You’re all I’ve been thinking about, Bradley!” 

“Am I?,” he asks, and your mouth drops at the words, but he keeps going anyway even though every instinct in him is screaming at him to shut up. “I trust you without being able to remember you, but it’s hard to do that if you keep things from me. I have no idea what the fuck is going on the majority of the time and you’re the only one I have who will tell me things. Or don’t you want me to remember?” 

The words came out harsher than he anticipated. The look on your face made him wish that he could take them back. His anger dissipated as he saw the tears that had been welling up in your eyes finally fall. 

Your name left his lips, but you cut him off before an apology could follow behind.

“Of course I do,” you choked out, a sob catching in your throat. It looks like there’s more you want to say, but after a moment, you just shake your head, your breathing labored. “I think I’m going to go for a walk.”

Those weren’t the words he expected. Alarm bells are ringing loudly in his head, demanding he fix what he’s done here. 

“What?”

“I need some air,” you explain, your voice cracking. His heart ached watching you gather your phone and keys. 

He speaks your name again, pleading and reaching out for you as you step toward the front door. To his surprise, you ripped your arm out of his grasp. “You don’t call me that,” you snapped. Bradley’s eyes widened. He watches as you take a deep breath, steadying yourself. 

“I’ll be back in a little bit,” you promise. You don’t look at him as you grab a pair of shoes from the closet by the front door, slipping them on. You don’t slam the door when you leave, but the sound of it closing still echoes like gunfire to him. 

He sinks back onto the couch, his aching head in his hands, wondering what the hell he had just done.

————

An hour has passed and you still weren’t back yet. Bradley has taken to pacing back and forth through the living room, peeking out of the curtains by the front door. He shouldn’t have let you leave when you were that upset. He shouldn’t have made you that upset to begin with. He was out of line.

When he really thinks about it with a clearer mind, he understands to an extent why you didn’t tell him about taking the test. He was virtually a stranger to you right now. There would have been little point to filling him in right now when it would have just panicked and confused him. He knows, deep down, that if the test would have been positive that you would have told him. But he had been so scared at that moment, overhearing you on the phone like that. And if he really admitted it to himself, he was jealous, too. He wanted to be the one you confided in for all of those things, big or small, certainty or uncertainty. But he had done nothing to really earn that. 

It wasn’t fair that he accused you of not thinking about him, either. It was so clear in everything that the two of you did that you were taking him into consideration. You had stayed with him every single day in the hospital. You had taken an impromptu leave of absence from work and drove him to all of his appointments. You cooked all of his meals for him and made sure he took his medicine on time and were readily available if he needed anything. You did everything you could to make him as comfortable as he could possibly be in this impossibly uncomfortable situation. You had sacrificed everything for him, and he was a jerk to you in response. 

He really, really wants you to come home soon. 

He had gotten his phone back, but he hadn’t brought himself around to touching it yet, knowing it would be full of a whole life that he wasn’t ready to face yet. Would you even answer if he called at this point? 

Maybe he could go look for you instead. 

Right when he’s about to grab his shoes, he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He heaves a sigh of relief when he sees you climbing the steps to the back porch through the window in the kitchen.

You must have come through the back gate instead. He doesn’t even care if it was because you wanted to avoid running into him immediately, so long as you were safe. 

You don’t unlock the door or move to enter the house. Instead, he watches as you settle into one of the plush chairs you have out there below the window that faces into the yard. Your back is to him now, but he’s breathing easier that you’re in his line of sight; you’re okay. 

He lets you be, for a little while. But after another 20 minutes had passed and the sun started setting without you coming inside, he couldn’t take it anymore. He was vibrating with the need to be near you again, to talk to you and apologize. He didn’t like being on the outs with you like this, and he knew it was mostly his fault. 

Your knees are tucked into your chest and your head leant back, but he could see that your eyes were open. They turned to him when he cracked open the door. 

“Hey,” he said simply. 

“Hey.” Your voice is still thick with the tears you had cried earlier. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, knowing he was the one who caused it. 

“Do you mind if I join you out here?” 

“Sure.” 

He steps out onto the porch, sliding the door shut behind him. You look back out into the orange covering your background as he sinks into the chair next to you. 

“How uh..how was your walk?” 

“It was fine,” you respond, hugging your knees a little bit closer. You go to push a piece of hair behind your ear and your ring glints in the setting sun. 

“I was worried about you,” he whispers, barely loud enough for you to hear him. But you do, turning your head to look at him. For the first time, he can’t quite read the look on your face. He takes a shaky breath, rubbing his palms on his thighs as he tries to figure out his words. “I’m sorry,” he finally says. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I shouldn’t have kept something that big from you.” 

He shakes his head, because blaming yourself is the last thing he wants for you. “You were looking out for me,” he says, “I understand that now. You…you would have told me, if the results were different. I know that.” 

You nod, not saying anything, and Bradley sighs out your name again. “It wasn’t fair for me to snap at you like that. To yell at you like that. I-I’m so sorry.” 

“You’re going through a lot right now.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, “but so are you. All of this, me being hurt and not….” he cuts himself off, but by the way you close your eyes and let a tear slip down your cheek, you knew exactly what he was going to say. 

Not remembering us. 

“I’ll never be mad at you for being injured, baby,” you say quietly. The term of endearment takes him by surprise. You were always careful with calling him by his name in an unnecessary effort to make him more comfortable; part of him wondered if you were trying to curb his own guilt. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says back. He desperately wants you to know that. You take a shuddering breath at the words. 

“This isn’t your fault,” you say it like it’s an oath, so much so that he almost believes you. But it was hard to do that when there were tears sliding down your cheeks. 

“Having you here is harder than I thought it would be,” you admitted so quietly that Bradley could barely hear you. “It’s like a part of me is missing, even though you’re right here in front of me. And I know it’s hard for you to not remember anything, and I’m being selfish-“ 

“You aren’t being selfish.”

You chuckle humorlessly, wiping away at your tears. 

“I’m serious,” he says, and his fingers itch to reach for you. “I think you may be the most selfless person I’ve ever met. You’ve done nothing but take care of me the last two weeks, even when I was in the hospital.” 

“I’ll always take care of you,” you promise, “You’re the most important person in the world to me, Bradley.” 

He doesn’t quite know how to respond to that at first, overcome with the emotions that it caused. He thinks that he would do anything for you, too. 

“I want to remember you,” he finds himself saying, and your eyes shoot to him again, startled at the words. He nods. “I’m not-I’m not good at saying how I feel. But I’ve never, ever felt like I do when I’m with you. You give me butterflies. And I have this instinctual urge to protect you and make you happy. Being around you has been the best part of everyday, even if I’m so confused the whole time.” 

You sniffle as more tears fall. 

“You say all those things about me,” he continues, “and how you’ll always take care of me. And I know I would do the same for you. Even now.”

He lets out a shaky breath, ”It’s like I know who you are right here,” he taps his hand against his chest over his heart, and you let out a small sob. He raises his hand to tap his fingers against his forehead, too. “But I think I need your help to remember you here, okay?”

“I can do that,” you hiccup, nodding rapidly. “We can do it together.”

“That sounds nice.” It really, really does. He returns your soft, watery smile, and he revels in how your eyes shine in the moonlight that had appeared, looking at him like he really was something special to you. 

“Can I -” you stop, clearing your throat and shaking your head as if you’re trying to talk yourself out of something. 

“What?” he encourages. 

“Nothing.” 

“No,” he insists, “please. Tell me.” 

“Can I ask you to do something for me?” 

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation in his answer; he wants to do whatever he could for you. 

Your breathing is shaky, and your voice is as small as he had heard it since he’d opened his eyes and had no idea who you were to him. Your eyes are bright with tears and dull with heartache all at the same time, but you’re still so heartbreakingly beautiful to him. 

“You tell me everyday. Multiple times most days, and even when you’re deployed, I don’t think you’ve gone this long without saying it somehow. I’ve been wanting to hear it so bad since I got the call you were hurt, because I knew it would mean that you’re okay, and I know you aren’t okay, but you’re here and that’s all that really matters and I-” 

He whispers your name to stop your rambling, worried about how tightly you were wringing your hands together and how quickly your breaths were coming. “What is it?” 

“Can you just…tell me you love me? Please?” 

Tears spring to his eyes this time, hating himself for putting you in this situation where you ever, ever had to ask him for something like this. The him from three weeks ago would hate the him sitting here right now. Hell, current him hates himself a little bit. He pushes that hatred aside, though, because this is something he can do. You’re going through misery because of him and this is the first request you had of him.

He doesn’t stop himself this time from reaching out for you. He drops to his knees in front of the chair you were curled up in, cupping your face in his hands. You gasp softly through your tears, reaching up and gripping his wrists in your own hands. He likes to think it was because you wanted to hold him there against you. Even with your tears splashing against his skin, it feels so right, touching you like this. 

You were breathing the same air as one another. He wipes a tear away when it hit his skin. He waits until your glassy eyes lock with his own to whisper the words: “I love you.” 

And he knows, in the deepest depths of his soul, even after so little time passing since being reintroduced to you, that it’s true. He feels a peace settle over him that hadn’t been there before; a missing piece slotting into place, even if the puzzle is nowhere near complete. Saying it feels so, so right, and he can’t help but close the distance between the two of you. It’s a gentle touch, but your lips are so soft against his that he leans into it. 

There's electricity burning under his skin. 

Something flickers in his mind, like a light struggling to turn on. A burnt orange dress and a Cinderella reference, cobblestone streets and a latte that tastes better on your lips than in the cup. There’s a word right there, and he struggles for a moment to grasp onto it. But when he does, it’s like he’s seeing in color after being in a black and white movie. 

“Pumpkin,” he breathes against your lips, “I call you Pumpkin.” 

You sob, then, nodding your head. You’re so close that he can feel your nose brushing against his. You kiss him again, the salt of your tears mixing with his. Your hands move from where they had been grasping his wrists to wrap around his body and you let yourself fall into him, slipping from the chair to meet him on the ground. 

When you pull away from his kiss, you bury your face in his neck, still crying softly. He holds you against him tightly. 

“I’m right here,” he says into your hair like a promise, pressing his lips wherever he can reach, “we’ll remember everything together.”

----

Part Six :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: I hope you liked this one! Would love to hear any thoughts you may have :)

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