#crying and writing this at 2 a.m. when I should be studying

[bending-sickle]

love sharing with my mother how i finally figured out what’s wrong with my glasses and my frustrations with the shop ladies and her reaction being Annoyed and Put Upon and “why didn’t you go to the shop yesterday” like oh idk mom because it was 2 a.m.???

[ragingbookdragon]

I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 2

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Explicit Language and Angst!

Author's Note: It's amazing how much one can write when they've got a story to tell, eh? Enjoy! -Thorne

Set Three Years After PT. 1:

Life for her revolved around work in the A.M. and community college in the P.M. If she wasn’t brewing cappuccinos and baking apple turnovers, she was writing research papers and taking physics exams. It was hectic and it was hard, much harder than anything she’d done, but it was her life, and she was going to make the best of it. The money she’d taken from her savings account had only lasted her long enough to get a decent one bedroom one bathroom apartment in a small complex and the rest went towards tuition. The coffee shop two blocks from her building had fortunately been looking for a new hire when she arrived, and she took the chance where it was, not going to look the gift horse in its mouth.

The life she lived now was a complete 180 from her old one. Back then, she didn’t have to work (though she did at a high-end department store in the mall—her father got her the job but at least she had one) and there wasn’t anything she couldn’t get with a swipe of a credit card. Now she was on a budget that consisted of five and ten tips and the last time she actually bought a new pair of shoes over a hundred dollars had been last year when she needed them for an interview, and even then, it cost her a limb.

Everything was so different, but she didn’t want to go back, preferring to be on her own and away from Gotham. From the newspapers and media, her family had convinced the world that she’d taken a few years to go overseas and spend time in Europe. A mental reprieve, they’d called it. Partially true if she was honest, but she wasn’t going to open her mouth about it lest they learned where she was. She didn’t go through all that trouble to be found within three years.

“Melisandre.”

Maybe I should move again?

“Melisandre?”

Moving would take a long time but it would be effective.

“Melisandre!”

Someone grabbed her arm over the counter, and she jerked with a start, eyes widening as she finally realized someone was standing in front of her.

“Barry?” she asked, and he smiled.

“Finally,” he snorted. “I’ve been calling your name for like ten minutes now.”

She felt a flush creep along her cheeks, and she smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I was thinking about something. Usual?” she murmured, marking a disposable coffee cup with a marker.

Barry nodded with understanding and handed her a credit card. “I hear you. How’s studying going for that physics exam?” His blue eyes darted to the science book she had sprawled over the counter.

“It’s going,” she muttered and turned, starting to mix together his latte. “I still can’t get the thermodynamic laws down. They’re a bit confusing.”

“Yeah, it’ll take a while. You know if you need my help, all you gotta do is ask, right?”

Shrugging, she glanced at him as she poured. “You’re a busy man, Barry. I can’t have you trying to help me while trying to solve cases too.”

Barry chuckled and accepted the freshly poured latte. “I’m an excellent multitasker, Melisandre. Besides, you don’t have to worry about it messing with my work.” She opened her mouth to retort but he cut her off. “Seriously, shoot me an email about whatever questions you’ve got, and I’ll take a look at ‘em, okay?”

Her eyes narrowed warily, and she inquired, “You’re sure it won’t interfere? I’d hate for you to get in trouble for working on non-work-related things.”

“I promise, Melisandre,” he smiled and accepted a bag of apple turnovers too. He couldn’t help but pull one out and bite into it, letting out a delighted noise. “God, what do you put in these things? They’re phenomenal.”

She giggled and winked as he handed her a twenty. “A baker never reveals her secret, but if you really want to know, I use a little vanilla extract.”

Barry shook his head with a chuckle and started making his way to the door. “See you later, Melisandre!”

Waving at him, she called, “Bye Barry! Take care!”

Just as he opened the door, he stopped and spun around, suddenly asking, “Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?”

Blinking, she glanced at the physics book then back to him. “Well, I was going to be studying for the exam…why?”

“My nephew is in town and I wanted to introduce him to you. I’ve already mentioned you a bunch of times and he wants to meet you.”

Her face pinched. “Barry Allen, what did you tell that poor boy?”

He stuck his tongue out at her. “That there’s a lonely college student who has no friends but has the greatest baking abilities in the world.”

“I cannot believe you told him I had no friends! Why!”

“You don’t.”

“Well, yeah! But still! You don’t just tell someone that! It makes me seem like there’s something wrong with me!”

Barry waved a hand. “Relax. Wally’s the least jerky person you’ll meet.” He smiled. “You’ll like him.”

She frowned. “I still don’t think this is a good idea, Barry.”

“Why not?”

“Well, he’s here to see you and your wife, not come meet the person who feeds your apple turnover addiction.”

The blonde’s cheeks turned a dark shade of crimson and he spluttered, “It is not an addiction!” he spun around and marched through the door. “I’ll send him over tomorrow! Bye!”

And he left before she could even say a word.

***

It had to be hieroglyphics. It was either that or some ancient cuneiform he’d recently taken up interest in, because there was no way whatever he’d written on the paper was English.

She cocked her head to the side, muttering, “Jesus Christ, Barry, did you write this on a caffeine bender? Your writing is like chicken scratch.” She tipped her head to the other side trying to decipher it when someone leaned over her shoulder.

“Which problem do you need help on?” they asked, and she pointed to the sheet.

“I have no idea what that says.” She turned and saw a red-haired stranger. “If you think you can, be my guest.”

He took it and read over it a moment, green eyes scanning over the page then he said, “Let’s see, he wrote first, ‘The third law of thermodynamics states that the entropy of a system at absolute zero is a well-defined constant. This is because a system at zero temperature exists in its ground state, so that its entropy is determined only by the degeneracy of the ground state.’”

Pausing, he scanned it again and added, “Then he marked a note beside it and wrote, ‘In simplistic terms, if an object reaches the absolute zero temp. of (0 K = -273.15C = -459.67°F), its atoms will stop moving. In other words, at absolute zero, the entropy of a perfectly crystalline substance is zero.’”

Glancing at her, he smiled. “Make sense now?”

She huffed and nodded, taking the sheet back. “Yeah, thanks. I don’t even know how you managed to get all that from his writing.”

He nodded. “Yeah, Barry’s handwriting is deplorable.”

Her eyes went wide, and she immediately questioned, “How did you?”

Sticking a hand out, he greeted, “Wally West. I’m Barry’s nephew.”

Shaking his hand, she couldn’t help but laugh. “I can’t believe he actually told you to come up here and meet me.” A smile came across her lips. “I’m Melisandre Hale.”

“That’s a pretty name, Melisandre.”

“Thank you,” she grinned and waved him to one of the bar-stools on the adjacent side of the counter. “Have a seat and I’ll get you something to eat and drink.” As she slid behind the counter, she inquired, “Anything specific?”

Wally stared at the bored, offhandedly mentioning, “Barry said something about apple turnovers that could make you cry with joy, so I’ve gotta have one of those.” His evergreen eyes met hers. “Maybe two if I’m being honest.”

She grunted, but a grin crossed her lips, nevertheless. “Barry exaggerates a lot, Wally. They’re good, but they’re not mind-blowingly good.”

“Then I guess that leaves me to be the judge,” he countered with a smirk. “What should I drink?”

She thought for a moment then offered, “Have any judgments about drinking before five o’clock?”

He let out a startled laugh and shook his head. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

With a grin, she turned and started working her magic and a moment later, she was sliding a plate with two iced apple turnovers over along with a clear steaming mug of dark coffee with cream on top. She leaned her hip on the counter and watched him pick up one of the apple turnovers and take a bite.

Immediately his eyes went wide, and he exclaimed, “Holy shit.” He gaped at her. “This is delicious, Melisandre!”

Despite herself, her cheeks warmed, and she gave him an easy smile. “Thanks, Wally.” She nodded to the crystal mug. “Try the Irish coffee.”

He did so and tossed his head back, letting out an exaggerated groan that had her laughing until her stomach hurt. Wally was on his second turnover and he looked at her.

“You’ve gotta open up a bakery or something, Melisandre. Your pastries are awesome.”

She huffed and took the plate from him as he finished the last bite. “Let me get through college first and then I’ll wonder how to rack up enough to open a shop.”

“What are you studying?”

Pausing, she tossed a quick glance at him. “There’s no specification right now. I’m just doing general studies to get all the basics out of the way.” She put the dish in the sink and started rinsing it. “I’m at the four-C right now.” His brows pulled together, and she added, “Central City Community College.”

He snapped his fingers. “Right! It’s been a while since I went to the four-C.”

Her eyes found his and she curiously asked, “Did you go there?”

“Yeah, a few years back.”

“You don’t look that much older than I am. How old are you, Wally?”

He sipped his coffee and set it down as he replied, “I turned twenty-eight a month ago.”

“Happy belated birthday,” she smiled, and he gave her one in return.

“Thanks. How about you?”

“I turned twenty-one a few months ago.”

“Hmm, happy belated birthday to you as well.” He grinned, quipping, “How’s it feel to finally be able to legally do all the things you were doing before you turned twenty-one?”

She shot him a look. “Shame on you, Wally West, for assuming I was doing illegal things.” He chuckled and she shrugged. “But to answer your question, it feels great, so thanks.”

Wally snorted at that. “My best friend and I got absolutely hammered on our twenty-firsts and swore to never drink hard liquor again after we woke up in the bathroom in our underwear after passing out on the floor.”

A shudder passed over her at her own memory of waking up beside the toilet after her birthday celebration with a bottle of white rum. She cocked a hand up with her water bottle in it. “Here, here,” she toasted and took a sip as Wally raised his coffee and drank too.

She glanced at him. “Are you in school, or are you done?”

“I finished a while ago. I work out of a tower with a group of friends in Manhattan.”

For a moment, her eyes drifted to the simple pair of jeans and graphic shirt he was wearing. She lived in the upper area of Gotham and she knew what uptown Manhattan was like, and it wasn’t jeans and t-shirts.

Evidently, he did too because he scowled, “I have suits and ties, thank you very much.”

She snorted and took the empty mug from him. “I didn’t say anything, Wally.”

“You made a face.”

“Is a face a ground to be hostile?” she grinned. “I was just wondering what type of business in Manhattan ran on flash t-shirts and skinny jeans.” She eyed him. “Tech?”

He shrugged. “It’s…a bit of everything if I’m being honest.” It sounded like he didn’t exactly want to say, and she let it be, rinsing out his cup before setting it to dry.

A buzz sounded and she felt for her phone when he said, “That’s mine.” Wally pulled his phone out, read the message, and stood up. “I’ve gotta go, Melisandre.”

She nodded and took the twenty-dollar bill he handed her, waving her off when she tried to hand back the change. As he started towards the door, she called, “Wally?”

He turned on his heel and waited and she felt foolish for saying it, but she admitted with warmth in her cheeks, “It’s been a while since I had any semblance of a friend…so thanks for this afternoon.”

Wally gave her a pearly white grin. “Barry said you’d say something like that,” he chuckled as she scowled and he added sincerely, “Can never have too many friends, Melisandre…and I hope you’ll become a great one of mine. So far, you already are.”

She smiled, “Same here, Wally.” The bell signaled his exit and she let out a heavy sigh as her heart warmed in her chest at the feeling of a newfound friendship.

***

She was dead on her feet when she finally got through her front door and into her living room, practically collapsing onto the couch. Though it wasn’t far from the truth as she flopped down and toed off her shoes, heaving a long and winded sigh as she stared at the dark ceiling. She wanted to turn on the lamp on the table beside her, but she didn’t want to move. Hell, she barely wanted to get up and take a shower, so she didn’t go to bed sweaty.

Just a moment. She thought. Just a moment to close my eyes and I’ll get up and go shower.

Of course, the second the shut them, she was opening them to her phone telling her it was two A.M. She groaned and picked herself off the couch to shuffle into her bedroom, and when she got there, she peeled off the clothes from her body and let them fall, not caring about the hamper just a foot away. She’d do it tomorrow after class.

The shower was quick, and she crawled into bed a few minutes later, glancing out the window at the stars that were still in the night sky. Even if she tried to avoid thinking about it, she couldn’t, and her mind drifted to when she was a young girl and would stare out the window in her bedroom back in Gotham, watching the spotlight come alive and paint the silhouette of the bat symbol against the night sky.

She missed them. She missed them a lot. Missed eating meals at a full table and the laughter in the manor. Hell, she even missed being ignored, because at least then she could see familiar faces every day. Now, it was wake up, go to work, go to class, then come home. And the process repeated every morning. She was alone in a city where she didn’t know anyone except for one forensic scientist and his wife, going to a college that didn’t even have her real identity. She’d not even said the name “(Y/N) Wayne” out loud for fear that someone with super hearing would hear her and tell her father, instead going by “Melisandre Hale”, a twenty-one-year-old born and raised Central City citizen going to community college. It pained her to admit, that with her decision to grant herself the freedom she desired, it came with a heavy price, and that was the loneliness. And it was worse compared to what it was like back then.

Sighing, she rolled over and pulled the covers up over her head, hoping that when she shut her eyes, she’d stop thinking about what she left behind. Unfortunately, the universe and her mind were never kind, and as she drifted to sleep, she saw the pained faces of her family.

[omgkatinka]

Breaking and Entering

Summary: Your cat gets you into trouble with your grumpy new neighbour

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Reader

>>> chapter 2

Masterlist

Warnings:  Mentions of death, mentions of abuse; anxiety, angst, grumpy neighbour / Also: English is not my native language and this is my first and probably last attempt at writing. I do not even know why I tried. This is eventually a result of procrastinating from learning for my exam next week. I mixed up tenses.

Also not betad.

Words: 2.127

Here you were. New Job. New city. New apartment. Again. The past years have been a hassle of starting over. 

When did your life take that turn? When your mother died? When you had to leave your grandfather to live with your father because you were underage? When instead going to study English literature like you always dreamed of your father made sure you’d get some fancy business master’s degree? Or when your ex-fiancé abused you and no one believed you because he was not just abusive but manipulative. Your life possibly finally took that turn when you ran. Head over heels. Leaving everything behind but your cat. You stopped counting the places you lived. Well rather visited for you never stayed long. Sometimes your ex would show up and you’d flee. Or you thought you had seen him in a crowd and flee. Or you were getting restless. High Functioning Flight Mode. All the damn time.

Moving days were a constant companion and those days smelled like freedom. It was just you, your SUV and your cat. The little fella would proudly ride shotgun while you sang along your old school rock playlist. Your whole life fit into a car.  

This time it is Minneapolis. Large city. Anonymous, easy to vanish. You scored a job at a major financial player. Major as in Fortune 500 major. Thankfully, you worked project based for a while now, so no one ever really questioned your constant moving all over the nation. If they ever read that far in your resume that is. Summa cum laude in combination with a Harvard degree opened most doors for you.

The furnished apartment you found was in a half decent neighbourhood for a change. It was not the smallest you’d lived in and it faced the back of the building onto a yard hosting a huge oak tree.

Settling into Minneapolis was easier than it should have been. Your new co-workers were friendly. Too friendly. Not one lunch break you would get to spend on your own. Especially Marta from accounting was keen to talk to you. She was lovely. It was not her fault you never made friends. Because you never stayed. But still, that insistent woman and a couple of more people gave you a sense of familiarity you would never have expected from a huge company like that.

Most of the new neighbours greeted friendly too. Most, apart from one. When you were unloading your car, he stood right in your way, a bear of a man, shooting you a death glare. Mumbling something about not being allowed to park here and stomping off. You did not pay attention to his word, being intimidated by his sheer size. A broad beast, grumpy at that. You made a mental note to avoid him. Great plan.

Here ‘s the thing with your plans: they tend to simply not work. Three weeks after starting over, you come home to for once not being greeted by Jack. Your cat Jack. Named after an infamous pirate because of his funny face and weird way to walk. Not being greeted by Jack stirred panic. He was old but almost never failed to wait at the door for you. He did not today. Searching the whole place for him you came up empty. When you realised, you had left the bedroom window open in the morning you started to hyperventilate. He liked to sit outside on the fire escape while you got ready in the mornings. Looking outside he is not there either. By now you were freaking out, running downstairs, calling for Jack. Climbing up the roof. Nothing. By now you were crying. Starting to search the apartment one more time. And then once more. At some point you cried yourself to sleep until you are woken up by frantic knocking at your door. While still trying to figure out where you’re at, you glimpse the clock. It says 2 a.m.. Great. And what is this noise? Right. Knocking. On the door. Furious by now.

Opening your door, you find your grumpy neighbour. Even more grumpy. Scowling. „Is this thing yours? “ he asks, lifting Jack into your line of vision.

 As relieved as you were to have your cat back. That was when things got out of hand. Thanks to that scare you frantically double checked every window every day before leaving for work. All is good for five days. When you get home on the sixth though – Jack is gone. Again. And the window you double checked the very same morning is open. You panic. Torn between hoping Jack broke into your grumpy neighbours’ place again hence being safe and him sitting on the roof calling out pigeons. You check the yard, the roof. No Jack. Hesitantly you knock at Mr. Grumpy’s door. No answer. Going onto midnight you hear the elevator and spy onto the floor. There he is. You brace yourself and head out. Looking apologetic. „um Hi, I am so sorry, but my cat escaped again. Would you mind checking if he did break into your place again? “. He does not answer. Unless grunts count as answers. He just raises an eyebrow at you and tilts his head in direction of his door. You avoid breathing and follow him into his apartment. Where you find your cat sits lounging on the couch like he owns the place. You cannot help but snort. That is what you get naming the little fella after a pirate. Breaking and entering seems to be his thing. It takes you a moment to realise Mr. Grumpy is staring at you, so you take a deep breath, apologize again and introduce yourself. „You really need to close your windows, you know? Not just from keeping that thing in your place but also to keep others out.“. Telling him, you double checked your windows just earns you a headshake. And there is that critical eyebrow again. Great. Then it dawns on you „if your so adamant on checking windows, how do you think Jack got in here? “. Now he looks puzzled. „Who is Jack? “ he asks and you fight hard to not snort again. “The cat, obviously” you answer. That earns you another grunt. ‘Great at communication that specimen’ you think and grab your cat. “Uhm, I am so sorry he, uhm…, we invaded your place again. So so sorry. Thanks for your patience. Good night, Mister?” “Marshall”. And that is the last thing he says. “Well good night Mister Marshall”. At that you hold on to your furry, purring companion and head back into your apartment. From now it will be triple checking the windows it seems.

Three times within the next you need to get your cat from his new favourite hideaway during the next week. The only new thing is Mr Grumpy telling you “it’s just Marshall”. Everything else is the same. Like being trapped in a fucking time lapse. Him scowling, telling you to “fucking check your windows” and giving you that critical eyebrow of doom. Each time though, you start to notice things. About his place. About him. He seems to live out of boxes. His shelves are empty. The only cosy thing seems to be the fluffy blanket Jack made his favourite place on the black leather couch. Also, he wears a gun. And a batch. You despise guns but guess this one comes with the job. And his accent is foreign. No, not foreign, it is English. A bit like a lost, grumpy Mr. Darcy. WHAT? Mr. Darcy? You’ve got to be kidding me. Are you finally going insane? Now take your cat and get out of here!

How do you reason with a cat? You surely tried but the next time you have not even noticed Jack vanishing. It’s a Saturday and you were just filling your coffee cup when there is knocking on your door again. You open the door to a sleepy looking Marshall, holding Jack. Shrugging. Something is different. Taking your cat out of his huge hands you are about to apologize again, when he beats you to speaking “did you just make coffee?”. You nod and he steps into your apartment. “Well, come in, why don’t you?” you mutter and find him standing in front of your kitchen island, scratching his head, looking kind of lost. With huge eyes and a suddenly small voice he says “sorry for barging in like that, your little fella here woke me up. Pretty sassy for such a small guy. Would you mind sharing a cup of coffee? I forgot to go grocery shopping and seem to run out of everything.”. For a moment you stare at him, stunned from the number of words he just threw at you and the lack of grunts.  When you remember how to use your words, you tell him to take a seat, grab a cup and ask him how he prefers his coffee. Fixing both your cups and setting them on the table you finally get to apologize again for your little intruder, constantly breaking into his place. Marshall just shrugs at that and admits, that he has no idea how Jack opens the windows. He himself started to double and triple check his windows and it should not even be possible to open them from the outside. It is that moment you realise what is different. He looks sleepy but barely as tired as before and more important. He’s not grumpy. That’s new. And you do not know how to handle that. After silently drinking his coffee, he thanks you for the coffee and crouches down to pet Jack and tells him something that sounds like ‘see you mate’, then tells you goodbye and takes his leave.

It is the next Friday that you come home to a post-it on your door with “Jack is visiting” scribbled on it. Somehow you remember your cat not being overly fond with men, but he seems to have a soft spot for this one. Or his couch. Taking a deep breath, you turn and move over to knock at the next door. Heavy relaxed footsteps near and Marshall opens the door widely, motioning for you to come in. “We were just about to choose a movie and call for pizza. Why don’t you change into something more comfortable and join us?”. You look at the man as if he did just grow two more heads. Raising his eyebrow at you he adds “maybe choose pizza before you head over, so I can order already”. Shaking off the initial shock, you apologize. Before you can actually try to take a leave, he sternly asks “did you have dinner?”. When you shake your head, he repeats “come on, it’s just pizza and a movie. And maybe we should use the opportunity to discuss a shared custody arrangement for Jack.”. At that your stomach rumbles and when you see the glint in Marshalls eyes, you know this is a battle not worth fighting. And you are hungry. You tell him your pizza order and head over to shower and get changed. You wonder how you are not nervous about this. Since things went south with your ex you could hardly stand to be alone with one man. Let alone spend the evening at his place for dinner and movie.

Back at Marshalls place he offers you a bottle of water and his cosy looking armchair. While himself settling beside Jack on the couch. He suggests watching pirates of the Caribbean and you accept, telling him that you actually named the cat after Jack Sparrow to which he counters “It’s captain. Captain Jack Sparrow.”. The evening proceeds with you watching the movie, laughing and having pizza. You are taken aback to realise he actually ordered some extra tuna for Jack. From time to time, you catch yourself watching Marshall instead of the movie. He seems so much younger when relaxed. And handsome. How did you not realise what a beautiful face hides behind those curls and that beard?

After the movie you grab your snoring cat and thank Marshall for the evening when he pushes something cold into your free hand. You need a moment to realise, that he just handed you a key and give him a puzzled look. “I told you we’ll need a shared custody agreement, considering this little one keeps breaking and entering and claiming this apartment. I often work long hours and when shit hits the fan even spend the nights at the office. You might need it to retrieve the lodger.”. With that he winks - well tries to and fails – and opens the door for you, telling you goodnight.

[kirishimaswife2819]

Hey, Danielle! This is an emergency request.. i think? But it's not like i would die without it so feel free to ignore this or see it as a normal request.

Lately i've been feeling down. I'm getting ignored by people when i talk (im sure they dont do it on purpose tho) and when i make a joke i just accidentally make things awkward. It's not only with my friends, but also with my family. And I've been very selfconsious these past few weeks and I'm feeling embarrassed by literally anything I do, like even now, writing this request, asking for a little comfort makes me feel embarrassed. I can't really function properly anymore, I don't talk anymore unless I'm spoken to and I don't like doing my hobbies anymore because I feel embarrassed. I can't even cry about it even if I'm all alone in my room. I'm just constantly asking myself "why are you like this?"

I've been scrolling through your blog and your reminder of how your fav fic character would adore you made me tear up..

I wonder what Izuku would do if he notices how his fem (or gn it doesn't really matter to me) s/o has been quiet lately and sits in their room all day doing literally nothing. And then he finds out about how they feel and how he would comfort and help them.

Okay I've read this like 5x, I'm sorry if I made any mistakes, English isn't my first language. Lol. But please don't force yourself to write this if you don't feel like it! I'd rather have you write something you like. Oh, and I really like your cat photos btw! I hope you have a nice day/night! :)

Them Comforting Their S/o That’s Been Feeling Down Lately || Midoriya

Masterlist 1 || Masterlist 2

↠Author’s Note: Hi! Sorry that you’ve been feeling like that :( I don’t really think I can help much other than saying that you’re perfect. But I hope you feel better and these maybe help? Even just a little bit. You’re English was fine tho, don’t worry :) But I hope you feel better soon! Make sure that you take good care of yourself (or the best that you can) -Danielle <3

↠Characters: Izuku Midoriya x Reader

↠Summary: Izuku comforting his s/o that’s been feeling down lately (not wanting to do hobbies, staying locked up in their room, etc.)

↠Genre: Comfort/fluff

↠Word Count: 450

↠Warnings: Mentions of s/o feeling down

↠Notes: None

He’s going to catch on to the fact that you’ve been feeling down lately, fairly quickly, he just pays a lot of attention to his s/o and there’s no way he wouldn’t notice that you weren’t feeling the best

He decides not to ask about it for a few days after he first notices though, maybe you were just having an off day. But then as he sat back, he realized that you weren’t starting to feel any better or show any signs of getting better, and that’s when he decided that he should maybe do something about it

But he didn’t want to confront you about it and potentially make you uncomfortable/hesitant to tell him what’s wrong, so instead he decided to just try and get you out of your room, doing things with him or one of your friends

It didn’t matter what it was when he first started doing this, he’d invite you to do any and every thing with him, it didn’t matter if it was training, studying, or even making something to eat at twelve a.m., he’d invite you to come with him

Throughout all of this, he also caught on to the fact that you weren’t doing any of your hobbies anymore, so he looked in his notebook that contained all of your information (which obviously includes your hobbies) and he learned a bit about a few of them (he picked ones that he thought he would enjoy as well)

And then he started inviting you on dates that had to do with the hobbies. You like to draw? Okay, come over to his dorm, you two can draw together while listening to some music! You like some type of sport? Okay! You two can practice outside of the dorms together until you both can’t breathe any longer. You like cooking? You guys can cook some food together for everybody else in the dorms! :)

He’ll continue to do this until you start suggesting these dates, or go back to doing the hobbies on your own time, and even after that, he’ll still do the hobbies with you, so you don’t slip back into your old mood

And as for the not talking until you’re spoken to thing, don’t worry! He will talk constantly, to the point where if it does get silent, you’re already back into a slightly better mindset and feeling better enough to speak first

Overall, he’ll help you out of your negative mindset, and into a better and positive one, and he’s not giving up until you’re feeling 110% better

[catzula]

Nothing's gonna hurt you, baby

A/N: the title inspired by Cigarettes after sex’s song because I was listening to that as I wrote lol, but um, I hope you like this! I’m really bad at comforting people irl so I don’t know how I did in writing

ps: I literally have an exam week coming up, most of them being subjects I have no idea wtf we’re doing but look at me writing a comfort fic for failing exams instead of studying for them

pairing: Iwaizumi x reader

genre: fluff and comfort

warnings: one swear word?? I think?? also it’s 2.2k, first time I was able to write something this short hehe

synopsis: A failed exam had you stressed out of your mind, thank god your boyfriend is always there to pick you back up.

repost cuz tumblr went no ❤ and it didn’t show in the tags

You knew you had failed your exam when your teacher gave you that look. You knew it when they smiled softly as they placed your paper in front of you, giving you a sympathetic pat as they told you to just study for the next time.

Study for the next time. What an insult, you thought. As if you hadn’t studied for it, as if you didn’t give it your best and still failed. Your teacher didn’t seem to agree, though, when they smiled and walked past you, not giving it a second thought as they walked away.

Some of your friends came to you to check and compare your grades or to see if you did any of the questions right that they had wrong. Well, you hadn’t. Feeling the urge to cry surfacing on your mask of ‘I didn’t study enough, I guess, I’ll do better the next time’ smile, you bit your lips anxiously, trying to pull yourself together.

It wasn’t the time or the place to cry. You gave your paper back to your teacher, excusing yourself for the bathroom to get some fresh air and free yourself from the suffocating questions of ’what did you get? Ah, I did that wrong, too! Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll do better next time.’

The tears you had been suppressing started to overpower you, the stinging in your eyes felt unbearable, and you finally let go, letting yourself cry, letting the demons in your mind whisper you the things you didn’t want to hear.

A sob shook your shoulders, just as you saw Oikawa walking down the corridor, and you quickly hid behind a door. You liked Oikawa, you were close, but he was closer to your boyfriend, Iwaizumi, and you knew he would tell him, and it would get complicated after that.

He stopped when you hid, looking around suspiciously to see what that was. His brows furrowed, eyes narrowing, and you were sure he was going to find you.

You didn’t expect him to, however, suddenly pull his phone out with a scared look in his eyes and cry for help in a whiny voice. “Iwa-chan, help me, I just saw a ghost!”

***

2.07 a.m.

You were going to wake up at 6 a.m, and you had to go to sleep quickly, but you couldn’t. Not with all these thoughts consuming your mind, making it impossible for you to do anything but panic.

Sometimes, things just didn’t go the way you wanted them to go. How much you studied, whatever you did, it all just kept going downhill, and it felt like you would never be able to catch up again.

You had to study. More, apparently. Even more and more and more, and it was never enough. Were you not smart enough? Why weren’t you enough? Why could everyone else do it, and you couldn’t? You had to do good with these! You couldn’t afford to fail if you wanted a future, right?

You felt tears of frustration form in the corner of your eyes, but you had to get it together. Crying won’t change anything, you told yourself, you should be studying instead.

You had avoided Iwaizumi that day, knowing you would either break down crying the second you saw him or do something as embarrassing. Even if you didn’t, he could always tell when you felt down, no matter how you tried to hide it, and you didn’t want him to know how pathetic you were feeling.

But most of all, you were afraid, afraid he will think the same things as you and everyone else did. You knew he wouldn’t, it was an irrational thought, but you still couldn’t help but be afraid.

Still, you had missed him, oh, how much you had missed him. A part of you wanted Iwaizumi there, right beside you, to hug you, tell you it was okay, that you were good enough, that there was nothing wrong with you, and he loved you.

A ’ding’ came from your phone, making you jump in your place and waking you from your thoughts. You lazily reached for your phone, but before you even got to see the text, a knock on your door made you stop instead.

Your brows furrowed. It was 2 a.m for god’s sake, who the hell was knocking on your door at this hour? You waited a few seconds, thinking the person was gone but jumped in surprise when you heard the knocks again, this time slightly harder.

“Okay, okay- I’m coming!” You muttered angrily as you stomped towards the door, not expecting to see your boyfriend standing there when you opened the wooden door.

“Hey, baby.” He smiled, the charming smile he learned to do from Oikawa, instantly causing your heartbeat to pick up. You didn’t know what happened, you had meant to smile and greet him back, but before you knew it, you were already between his bulky arms, crying with sobs that shook your body.

He, however, seemed to have expected this reaction, his arms wrapping you and pulling you to his chest immediately. He was cold, his hands chilly and face slightly red because of the cold, but he somehow still felt warm, lost between his arms, you felt warm, warmer than you had ever felt in a long time.

It felt odd how relieved you were to have him there, you felt like he was all you needed, like it was all going to be all right if he was there next to you, supporting you.

“Shh, baby,” He whispered to your hair as if he had read your mind. “It’s okay.”

You weren’t sure just how long you stood there, between his arms, crying everything you felt out, him whispering soft words at you, and it felt both like an eternity and a second, and by the time you had stopped crying, he was already warmed up.

He could tell when you started to calm down a bit, now left with soft sighs and occasional sobs. “Are you feeling better?” He asked, pulling back slightly to look at your face.

You shook your head, only then noticing the paper cup and the paper bag he had in his hand, a sweet and bitter coffee smell coming from them. He noticed you looking, smiling softly. “I bought your favorite coffee and that shitty cookie you like.” He explained, his cheeks tinting a slight pink when you looked at him with wide eyes, shock written in them.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that, I’m capable of doing things like this, too. I am a good boyfriend!” He protested with a frown, making you laugh. “I didn’t say anything.” You told him with a mischievous smile, and ever the honest man he is, it didn’t take long for him to sigh.

“Oikawa told me you felt down today at school and gave me… tips.” He admitted, the pink of his cheeks slowly turning to red. “Tips?” You repeated, trying to hold your laughter in, but he noticed, his frown growing.

“Yeah, he told me to buy ice-cream, that idiot, is he not aware of the fucking weather? So I bought your favorite coffee and cookie, instead.” He kept talking. Iwaizumi was never the one to talk much, but he always rambled so when he was embarrassed. The way his jade green eyes wandered over your face, you knew he tried to tell if you would’ve preferred the ice-cream.

"I like this much better. I was cold, anyway.” You muttered, aware of the smile he tried to suppress. He sent you a glance before he sat on your couch, his eyes looking at you as if he expected you to sit next to him, which you did. Biting your lip anxiously, you settled on the place next to him, not expecting him to throw his arm around your shoulder and pull you back into him, not that you complained, of course.

You inhaled his smell, the familiar scent of pine and a whiff of mint calmed you in a way you didn’t expect. “Will you tell me what happened?” The question caused your anxiety to rise almost immediately, and he was aware of that, too.

“You don’t have to, you know."

"I do.” You answered, once again burying yourself in silence, trying to gather the courage, and he knew it, not pushing you and giving you time, his hand caressing your hair softly.

“I failed another exam today.” You whispered, your voice strained and a lump forming in your throat. You kept talking when he didn’t, his silence comforting you. “Sensei told me to just study for it next time,” you spat the words, chuckling darkly. He knew how much you had studied for it, how hard you had worked.

He was the one who reminded you to eat, to sleep, to drink something and brought coffee and food, after all. He was there when you cried because of frustration, because of how tired you were, he was there, holding you between his arms as his heartbeats lulled you into a much-needed sleep.

And he was here once again, and that comforted you more than anything else could.

“I worked so hard, Iwa!” You suddenly exclaimed, feeling the tears forming once again. Maybe you hadn’t worked hard enough, or even you hadn’t worked at all and- “I know, baby.” He told you, silencing the whispers in your mind.

“You worked well, worked so hard.” He kept talking, his deep voice not letting you think anything else but his words. “You gave it your all.” It was such a nice feeling to have your hard work accepted, even though it hadn’t given a result, it felt comforting to know he knew just how much you studied instead of saying you’ll do better, work harder as if you hadn’t given it your all.

“Then- then why didn’t happen? Why did I fail when I gave it my all?” You sobbed, nuzzling your face to his chest, focusing on his breaths. “I don’t know.” He simply stated the words you needed to hear.

I don’t know. Somehow, that felt better than the cheesy excuses everyone kept telling you.

“But you can’t beat yourself up like this.” He went on, pulling back slightly to look in your eyes. “I know it feels like everything’s falling apart, or that you studied all that for nothing, but it’s not. Exams aren’t the things that define you or your intelligence. They aren’t as important as people tell us, hell, I can’t even remember what I did wrong on the last math exam, and I had failed at that one. I’m pretty sure I would’ve remembered at least one thing if it was important.”

You shook your head, not able to accept his words. “They are important, Iwa. They are what defines our future, and I- I failed-”

“No,” he told you patiently, “they aren’t what defines our future, you do. It’s just a shitty piece of paper, nothing more. I know you’re disappointed, okay? I know what you’re feeling, and I know you want to do nothing but study, don’t eat or sleep, and just fix this, but I can’t let you.”

“I can’t let you do that, I can’t let you hurt yourself like this.” The way his green eyes looked at yours with worry, it was all you needed to pull yourself back together. He was there, wasn’t he? Nothing could go bad or hurt you when he stood next to you.

Just a shitty piece of paper, you thought of his words, chuckling slightly, and he felt his heartbeat pick up, the weight on his chest of seeing you like that lifting slowly. “Okay,” you whispered, you smile growing bigger and bigger.

“Did you eat today?” He asked, sighing when you shook your head side to side. “Eat your cookie.”

You nodded, taking a bite and forcing him to take one, too, laughing at how he crinkled his nose when he tasted it. “How do you eat this?”

You shrugged and took another bite, the hunger you suppressed the whole day once again making itself noticeable. “Can you stay the night?” You asked as you took a sip from your coffee, almost spitting it back out when his eyes widened with shock, cheeks reddening. “I- I didn’t mean it that way!”

“I know,” he laughed, although his cheeks were still bright red. “I can stay."

"Thank you.” You told him with a smile, and he could swear he knew he would do anything to see that smile on your lips for the rest of your life, from coming at your door at ice-cold weather at 2 a.m. to jumping off a bridge.

So he smiled back, eyes closing and drifting in a deep sleep as you lay on the top of his chest, feeling safer than you had ever felt.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

: Sunday 2 February 1840

8 ¼

2 ½

her cousin came this morning – A- came to me and lay on my bed twenty five minutes breakfast about 9 ¾ - at church a minute or 2 after 11 just service had begun (reading the Lords’ prayer) Mr. Camidge preached I suppose ½ hour+ (but as last Sunday forgot to look at my watch) from Micah vii. 18, 19 and 20 home for ¼ hour had Mrs. Howard – the Russian girl wishing her to ask if we intended to take her afterwards or not – said we should give the answer to the dame supérieure – Mrs. H- to to try to find out the girls’ feeling on the subject – she had been crying terribly – whether this was from sorrow mortification, or what sort of feeling – A- and I out at 1 10/.. – to princess Tcherkaski – she was dressing but would receive us – we waited 5 or 6 minutes and staid about 20 – she very civil – hoped we should meet again at St. P- or somewhere repeating her former phrase “comme des bonnes connaissances” sorry as before she had not made our acquaintance earlier – then to old countess Panin – left cards – her daughter, countess Wera, very ill of inflammation – received by countess A.P- and sat perhaps 10 minutes or ¼ hour – she gave us her own address here and in the country in Russian the courier would direct our letters if we could not do it in Russ[ia] – and gave me princess Oroussoffs’ address – then to the Ocouloffs’ – very kind and civil – pressed us to stay dinner – they had been here this morning and left cards and

their address in town and country the latter on the road from here to Tula (not from here to St. P-) saw Mr. O-‘s cabinet d’etude – a few some good pictures – nice comfortable study and sitting and sofa-sleeping room – shewed his full dress  coat as chambellan covered with 1500/. worth of gold lace – the coat complete costs 2300/. – that of the 2 grand chambellans costs 2800/. his petit unifrome costs 500/. – Madame O- said if A- and I were presented our dress would have a train and be à la Russe – 300/. – needed not cost more – then saw carpets made at the fabrique established by Madame O-‘s sister (Madame Statkovksy) at her Campagne near Saratof [Saratov] – on the Penza road, and not far from there – an archine (or more?) wide stairs carpet 5/. per archine – a large carpet 13 archines square she would ceder à l’instant même for 3000/. but not for less – Madame O- had said 2000/.  all this carpeting done by hand – by 20 jeunes filles – by bobbins she said – How is that? see into it at Saratof [Saratov] – our coachman nobody knew where – George said he was always to wait for – Madame O-‘s coachman had just mounted the box and driven us to the gate when our man came – gave Madame O-‘s man a 25 silver kop. piece – then left cards chez les Fischer and home at 3 ½ or (if my silver watch is 2 ½ hours too late) at 3 40/.. – A- told me monsieur was come  a little last night   enough this morning said that we should not get off till Tuesday about 10 a.m. instead of as we told everybody just after midnight tomorrow – had just written so far now at 4 ¼ - then inking over the notes princess dictated and writing to Hawkins wrote not to Mrs. Hawkins about the pots of ointment for Madame Apraxin – partly dressed – dinner at 6 – finished my toilette – A- and I out at 7 ½ - meant to have gone by the Porte rouge to leave my note dated today but written yesterday (vid. other end of the book) to ask Mr. Alexander Richter to come between 9 and 10 tomorrow – but too late – gave the note to George to be left as we returned or as it turned out to go very early (before 8) tomorrow morning – 5 or 6 minutes at Mr. Fischers’, a long table of persons playing a round gave Mrs. F- got up, and came with us into her salon – Mr. F- came – well we had gone, tho’ poisoned with tobacco, and princess O- smelt us, and questioned us about it on our going in – there at 7 50/.. – sometime before princess R- came – she was writing – very good, tho’ said she had been calculating her marche route, and was stupid – dictated note of thanks for the courier to be written on our return – How good she is! we staid till 10 – she asked us to go tomorrow evening – for she does not set off till 11 a.m. on Tuesday – best to take leave tonight – travelling would be insupportable if one had after the

SH:7/ML/E/23/0195

pain of parting like this – she said at last – one should always part gaily; for it was a better augure of meeting again – I told her I was glad of having seen Boulgakoff I knew now to whom we were indebted for our courier – B- would go à 4 pattes pour elle – she said she did not know this I said she could oblige him in some way or other – she did not know this – no one said I knows it better than you do – it was not for princess Olga but for you that he gave the courier – she (princess R-) has behaved beautifully – she has helped us without letting us find it out – nor should I have dreamed the truth about the courier had I not seen B- chez elle – his manner not hers, told the truth – she has more heart – more high mindedness –more deep delicacy of feeling than a man like him can [comprehend] – she has always reminded me of poor Sibbella – I cannot describe even to myself my feeling of sadness on parting with her – It would be terrible if such feelings could recur often – home at 10 ¼ - tea till 11 – wrote the last 29 lines till now 11 ½ p.m. fine day – then till 1 ¼ calculating tables for princess R- of her 4 horses per station from here to St. P- this and writin[g] the short explanation etc. took me till after two –

[cotncandyboifics]

1989 [High School AU]: Chapter 4

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 8 ~ Chapter 9 ~

Pairings: slight Logince, eventual Prinxiety & Logicality

Word count: 1,910

Story summary: Roman Prince is your stereotypical Jock, with everyone swooning after him. Every day a crowd of people follow him around, only to disperse at his personal whim. In reality, he's lucky to have such good acting skills that help him cover up the disdain he has for his life. He only wishes he could use his skills properly.

Patton Whitelock's always there to lend a helping hand, no matter who you are. If you need a favor or just need someone to talk to, go to him. In reality, he's been taught from a young age that kindness should be held above all else. No one suspects that he took it the wrong way.

Logan Montgomery is the smartest boy in the Senior class. He's stern, and most people are too intimidated to speak to him. In reality, he despises most all of his fellow students. He sticks to his studies and doesn't stray, for fear of being stuck in his father's shadow his whole life.

Virgil Black is the most emo kid in school, let alone 12th grade; everyone knows to leave him be. In reality, he's very fortunate. He has two parents who love him dearly. But everything beyond his life, everything within his mind, is utter chaos and turmoil.

what will happen when they're assigned a biology project together?

General CW: food, swearing, implied s-lf h-rm, non-graphic descriptions of s-lf h-rm scars, graphic and non-graphic descriptions of anxiety attacks and panic attacks, drug abuse, minor character intoxicated on heroin, non-graphic drug overdose description, sickness/description of sickness, blood, non-graphic descriptions of needles, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: <3rd person> graphic description of a panic attack, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: <none>

...

Where would he have gone? In the backyard? No, there's too much space out there, and it's too bright. Maybe- of course! Patton raced down the hall to the bathroom door, which was shut. He nearly started knocking, but remembering how easily startled Virgil could get when he was having an attack, he decided to just calmly say into the closed door;

"Virgil, it's Patton. Can I come in?" His voice came out very buttery and smooth, calm as he could get it to be. he heard a muffled sob from inside, and his heart went to his throat. But he knew he had to stay calm, for Virgil's sake.

As slowly, gently, and quietly as possible, he opened the door and stepped inside. It was dark, the only light coming from a small hazy window near the ceiling above the shower. He could barely make out Virgil's figure; he was curled into a ball on his side, crying into his knees, lying in the bathtub. From what Patton could see, the way his hair was sticking to his forehead implied he had been sweating, and the sleeves of his sweater were wet and crumpled, like he'd been chewing on them.

Patton slowly walked over, trying not to upset Virgil more. He slowly and gently clambered into the Bathtub, and sat cross-legged with Virgil in front of him. Remember everything you read about. Pressure is good, it gives a sense of security on an instinctual level. Don't take his hoodie off of him. He slowly reached down and lightly touched Virgil on the shoulder. When he didn't react, Patton gently scooped him up and held him in his lap, securing his arms around Virgil's shaking form as he cradled him. Although Virgil was taller than Patton, Patton had a sturdier build compared to Virgil's thinness. He started rocking Virgil very slowly, and did the first thing that came to mind.

"Virgil, it will be okay. I'm here. I'm going to breathe, okay? Try and feel me breathing, and when you can, try and copy it." Once again, his voice was soft and caring, nearly a whisper. Patton began breathing slowly and steadily, in, and out. in, and out. After what seemed like a long while, Virgil had stopped shaking, and Patton could tell he was trying to copy his breathing. It took him a few tries - his diaphragm kept spasming and making him sob more - but the tears had mostly stopped.

Soon, Virgil was breathing along with Patton - still a bit shakily, but they were definitely getting somewhere. Once Virgil's attack passed, he felt exhausted. He relaxed more into Patton, almost falling asleep.

"Virgil, I know you're tired, but we can't sleep here. Want me to call your parents so they can come pick you up?" Patton said, leaning down to try and come eye to eye with Virgil, who seemed content laying there, his head on Patton's left collar bone.

"Mmmm," Virgil started, rubbing his eyes. "No, that's alright. I'm supposed to take the bus today anyway."

"But-"

"Shhh, it's okay. I'll stay here for a while longer, and then get going, so I'll have time to get my bearings." Virgil stood, getting out of the bathtub, and then helping Patton up and out. As soon as he was out, Virgil pulled Patton into a hug - not a hard one, but a heartfelt gentle one. The best kind. "Thank you so much. I don't know how I would've made it through that one without you. Are you alright?" Virgil pulled away at the last part, holding Patton's shoulders and looking into his eyes. Patton had never seen this side of Virgil, so excessively caring. "I know you've never had to deal with me, or anyone, having an attack, but for the record, I think you handled it amazingly." Virgil continued, pulling Patton back into the hug.

Patton hugged back then, burying his face in Virgil's shoulder. "I'm just glad you're okay."

They stayed like that for a while, just happy in their moment.

...

When Patton and Virgil returned to Roman's room, Logan was just leaving.

"Hey, Lo! Are you out of here?" Patton said, still cheery as ever.

"Hello, Patton. Yes, my parents have arrived. I must be going now. I will see you tomorrow in class. Goodbye, Roman, Virgil," Logan nodded to them all, and then stepped past the newcomers to exit. Just then, Patton's phone buzzed, and a text came through that Virgil and Roman remained oblivious to; Patton scarcely read it, but knew that if it was from his brother, he'd best be getting home.

"Uh, w-wait up Lo! I'm headed out too!" Patton said, hurriedly grabbing his pastel blue backpack and rushing out, quietly saying goodbye to Virgil.

Patton caught up with Logan at the end of the hallway, a few feet before the door.

"Hello Patton. Are your parents here too?" Logan said, opening the door and holding it open for his curly-haired companion.

"Uh, no, but I'd best be getting home. I take the bus. My parents... don't have a car. They, uh, they care for environmental safety and stuff." Patton said, trying not to make his lie too obvious.

"Oh, I see." Logan's hand went to his chin, as if he was considering something. "Well, if you wish, I can ask my parents if they'll give you a ride home. I know the bus can be uncomfortable."

"Oh! umm..." Patton really wanted to say yes, but he knew that if his brother saw him come in from someone else's car, he'd be furious. "I'd love to, really, but I can't. Thank you so much anyways though! I'll see you tomorrow." Patton said, a toothy smile appearing as he waved to Logan. Then, before Logan could press further, Patton skipped quickly down Roman's driveway, down the sidewalk, and out of sight.

Logan just shrugged it off, and got in his parent's car.

...

Virgil and Roman were fixed in an awkward silence. Virgil was slouching against the wall near Roman's door, and Roman was laying back on his bed.

"Where were you?" Roman asked eventually.

"In the bathroom. I'd been holding it for a while, if you must know." Virgil lied, trying to keep Roman from asking again.

"Yuck! TMI, Surly Temple!" Roman said, throwing one of his pillows in Virgil's general direction, unsuccessful in hitting him; the pillow landed at Virgil's feet.

"Man, for a jock, your aim is shit," Virgil said, chucking the pillow back and hitting Roman square in the face.

"Ugh!" Roman exclaimed, shoving the pillow off him. Virgil walked over and plopped onto the bed, being sure to avoid eye contact. "Well hello there, my Chemically Imbalanced Romance," Roman teased, leaning closer to Virgil.

He just scoffed at him for the hundredth time that day, and threw the pillow at his face again. "Yeah, in your dreams, Prince Underarms-Stink."

Roman didn't react that time; he simply put the pillow back and watched as Virgil yawned and stretched out his arms. He turned away before the pink glaze on his cheeks could be spotted by Virgil. He pulled out his phone and plugged in his earbuds, putting one in his ear and offering the other to Virgil.

Virgil thought about protesting, but he was too tired to really care that much. he just sighed. "Oh, why the hell not." He took the earbud and put it in his ear, laying back and snuggling into Roman's pillows.

Roman clicked shuffle on his Taylor Swift playlist, and immediately regretted sharing an earbud. of all the songs to play!

There I was again tonight forcing laughter, faking smiles

Same old tired, lonely place

Walls of insincerity

Shifting eyes and vacancy vanished when I saw your face

All I can say is it was enchanting to meet you

Virgil felt a blush rise to his cheeks as the song continued, shifting his gaze even further from Roman.

Your eyes whispered "Have we met?"

Across the room, your silhouette starts to make it's way to me

The playful conversation starts

Counter all your quick remarks, like passing notes in secrecy

And it was enchanting to meet you

All I can say is I was enchanted to meet you

Roman watched Virgil, both of their cheeks darkening. Eventually, Roman looked away, not wanting to be creepy.

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go

I'm wonder struck, blushing all the way home

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew

I was enchanted to meet you

The lingering question kept me up

Two a.m., who do you love?

I wonder till I'm wide awake

Virgil risked a glance at Roman, who seemed to be tracing his ceiling fan with his eyes. He probably isn't even effected by this, Virgil thought. Wait a minute, why am I even effected? Virgil looked away again, trying to stifle his feelings.

Now I'm pacing back and forth, wishing you were at my door

I'd open up and you would say,

Hey i t was, enchanting to meet you

All I know is I was, enchanted to meet you...

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go

I'm wonder struck, blushing all the way home

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew...

This night is flawless, don't you let it go

I'm wonder struck, dancing around all alone

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew

I was enchanted to meet you.

When Virgil looked back at Roman again, Roman was looking at him. Roman immediately looked away, praying Virgil didn't see. But he knew he did, that for that split second that their eyes met. Virgil could see the blush on Roman's cheeks now. When Virgil didn't look away, Roman looked back.

This is me praying that this was the very first page

Not where the story line ends

My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again

These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon

I was enchanted to meet you

Roman looked away first. I can't be doing this, I literally just asked someone else out. This is stupid.

Please don't be in love with someone else

Please don't have somebody waiting on you

Please don't be in love with someone else

Please don't have somebody waiting on you

Virgil had looked down as well, but glanced back, seeing Roman mouthing the words slightly. Virgil only blushed harder and covered his face with his hands, wondering how it could possibly be healthy for his heart to be beating this fast.

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go

I'm wonder struck, blushing all the way home

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew

This night is flawless, don't you let it go

I'm wonder struck, dancing around all alone

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew

I was enchanted to meet you

Please don't be in love with someone else

Please don't have somebody waiting on you

As the song ended, Virgil picked up his phone and pretended to read a text from his mom. "Uh, my mom says I best be getting home," He said shortly, taking the earbud out and standing, grabbing his bag. Roman sat up, wanting... well, he didn't really know what he wanted. He said the first thing that came to mind.

"Um, do you want a ride? I can drive you if-"

"No, that's alright." Virgil considered elaborating, but couldn't think of a good reason for his denial. He just had to get out of there, away from Roman, or he didn't know what would happen. "Uh, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Ye-yeah, sure thing," Roman said, scratching the back of his neck. Virgil left with scarcely a sound, and walked hastily toward the bus stop.

On his walk, he found the song they'd been listening to, and added it to his library.

[pl-panda]

Damienette arranged marriage: part 24

Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @thyladyanput for idea for Chat Damian and me for the plot.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 part 14 part 15

part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

Part 22

Part 23

Damienette arranged marriage: part 24

NEXT

----------------------

“Papa will help us on this one. And maybe we should call the cavalry from Gotham?”

“Relax Angel. We have two to one number advantage. We can deal with them.” Damian reassured her. 

‘Fine. We two weeks until we leave. It is decided then. In one week, we storm the Agreste Manor.”

--------------------

The week passed by faster than anyone wanted. Marinette especially felt like it was all in such rush. It was overwhelming. After over two years of fighting hawkmoth they were finally about to put an end to his reign. That is if Tim’s assumptions were correct. It was still just a theory. Really solid one, but theory nonetheless. They did know Adrien was Chat Noir. This was without doubt. Nobody else could be him if what Tim gathered was correct. It’s amazing what you can figure in two months with good logic skills and enough hacking skill to have White House Coffee machine prepare a frappuccino with your face on it for a week. ‘Batboys’ had weirdest truth or dare in the whole world, Marinette decided. 

The raid was supposed to happen on saturday. This way they were sure that Adrien would be home and there would be little interruptions. Precisely on 10:20 A.M., the time when Adrien should be practicing his piano, Ladybug, Pink Tigress, Ryuko and Viperion walked to the front gate of the Agreste Manor. Marinette did ask her father to use Ox miraculous and help them, but he politely declined. Tom felt like the hero gig was not really for him. It was okay. Not everyone need to be on the front line. 

A camera eye popped out of the wall as soon as Ladybug pressed the bell. 

“Hi. I have an urgent matter with Mousier Agreste. It’s about his son.” She spoke. It was risky, but if he didn’t allow them to enter, he would only raise suspicion. It was a perfect trap. Small crowd already gathered in here and got curious. Rejecting Paris’ beloved heroes would be bad for image and much too suspicious. 

There was no answer, but the gate opened, letting the group in. As they walked, Ladybug and the others indeed noticed several automated defence turrets, now half-burried underground while disabled. They were probably loaded with rubber bullets, but how did this not violate gun regulations anyway was a surprise. 

Doors to the manor were opened by Gorilla, who then stepped aside and let them in. Nobody noticed three shadows jumping over the front yard. Gabriel was already waiting for them with Natalie by his side.

“Ladybug. What a surprising visit. Is something wrong?” He asked in a worried tone. 

“Yes. But I would prefer if we talked in somewhere more private.” Ladybug said, nudging her head toward atelier. 

“Of course. Nathalie. Go check on Adrien in the meantime.” The man motioned to his secretary and let group of colorful heroes to his private study. As the doors closed he turned to the heroes. “Now. What is this urgent matter you need to discuss.”

“Like I mentioned, it’s about your son Mousier.”

“Adrien?” Gabriel grasped. “Did something happen to him? Is he in trouble?!” If Ladybug didn’t know the man as Marinette and didn’t suspect him of being hawkmoth she would actually think he cared about his son. 

“Yes. He is in big big trouble.” Pink Tigress practically growled. Marinette wondered if it was the mask or was her mother always like that but she didn’t show it. 

“Tigress. Control your emotions.” Ryuko scolded the newest heroine, but it was obvious she was having hard time herself.

“Ladybug. What is this all about?!” Gabriel shouted. “I demand an explanation.” He recomposed himself and fixed his tie.

“Well… Your son… He… You see…” Suddenly, the confidence Ladybug usually showed disappeared.

“What our Bug is trying to say is that we believe your son is Chat Noir.” Viperion offered some help to the distressed heroine.

“And how is that bad? If what you say is true I am proud of my son and his accomplishments in defending Paris. His mother would surely be proud.” The designer defended his son while acting confused. Except Ladybug saw right through the scene. It was too much out of character for Gabriel Agreste to be real. This confirmed it. He was Hawkmoth. 

“Except Chat Noir switched sides. He is a traitor. That is why Tigress reacted like that. For some time, he is working with Hawkmoth.” Ladybug straightened up and looked in the eyes of man before her. 

“What?! Perpeterous! My son would never do such thing. He was always loyal to those he considered family.” 

“If you could please call him in here, I would be happy to discuss some things with him in your presence if that’s okay.” The girl in red gave a weak smile and nodded toward the intercom.

Gabriel reluctantly walked to it and pressed a button. “Nathalie. Could you please bring Adrien in here?”

It wasn’t long before the secretary and prodigal son entered the room.

“You wished to see me father?” Adrien started, but then he noticed several heroes standing in there. “Oh! Ladybug? I am honored to meet you again.” In the back, Ryuko was stopping Pink Tigress from attacking by holding hand in front of her. Viperion was doing the same for Dragon-themed hero.

“Adrien Agreste.” Ladybug started in stern tone. “As the Great Guardian of Miraculous I hereby renounce your right to the Ring of Black Cat. You are no longer a hero of Paris or part of the team.” She grabbed his hand and was about to pull the ring when he chuckled. 

“So that’s it my lady? After all this time together you would end it just like that?” There was something dark in his face. “Plagg! Darkclaws out!”

Suddenly a black Kwami was sucked out of his pocket and entered the ring. In a flash of green light he was now Chat Noir, except instead his bell was now silver and his face was twisted. His features were more catlike and when he smiled he had fangs. Hearing the commotion, Gorilla barged into the room through other doors. He looked confused at the situation. He didn’t even mother with the fact that the entrance was locked and he kept holding the doorknob 

“Guess there is no more hiding it Father.” Adrien said. It could very well refer to him being Chat Noir, but Gabriel understood the suggestion.

“Indeed son. Nooroo! Darkwings rise!” There was another flash of light and Hawkmoth joined the fray.

“Duusu! Spread my feathers!” Nathalie was transformed into Mayura with the help of her booch. Only no longer it was damaged so she was now able to fight in full strength. 

Hawkmoth hit the floor with his cane, opening a small hole from which flew a white butterfly. “You’ve made a mistake Ladybug. Engaging me in my own home was a stupid strategy.” He then charged new Akuma and sent it at the Gorilla, who was still holding the doorknob. It entered the damaged object and transformed him into smaller version of gorizilla. “Now the chances are more fair, don’t you think?” He grinned maliciously at her.

“No. I think they will be equal about… now!” She shouted and tossed her Yo-Yo. It zoomed right past surprised Hawkmoth and Shattered the window. Through it jumped Spoiler, Red Robin and Robin, all already in battle stance.

“Ah. I see you called different help from the states. I guess I should be worried now?” The mocking tone from the villain was never that good. Suddenly, the floor on the right side lowered slightly making a ramp. From there, walked a lines of robots. “You like it? I got it from my own friend in America.” He gloated. This was not good. They needed new plan.

“Spoiler, Robin, Red Robin! I need you to take care of the robots. Tigress! Get Mayura. Ryuko. You will go after hawkmoth. Viperion! Take the Akuma out and then help Ryuko!” Ladybug started shouting new battle plans.

“What about you?” 

“I will take care of Chat Noir.” She stated and lunged at the irritating cat, who just stood there the whole time with a grin on his face. 

Ladybug used her Yo-Yo to attach to the roof before smashing into Chat Noir leg-first. The cat was pushed back and she proceeded with continous assault, switching between Tossing her weapon at him and using some of the moves she learned from maman over the years. 

This was like a spark. Immediately after Ladybug’s charge, other heroes also attacked. The battle has begun. At least until there was an ear-piercing cry of pain that got everyone’s attention.

——————————————————————————————————–

Taglist (sorry if I missed you)@pheonixashtree @sassakitty @unabashedbookworm @vixen-uchiha @maggiecc12 @actualdisasterwoman @tired-butterfly @shizukiryuu @floralfi @imanerddealwith @northernbluetongue @krispydefendorpolice @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @bluesoulblueheart @theatreandcomicfreak @disneyfoxuniverse @mindfulmagics @alwaysnumberonetruth @nyaabinch @jardimazul @lenamau @rosep16 @dramatic-squirrel @sonif50 @daminett4life @lulutheawkwardess @weird-pale-blonde-person @mooshoon @jeminiikrystal @mochegato @moonlightstar64 @dragonflyswing @silverwhiteraven @shamefullove @magic-miraculous @valeks-princess @heaven428 @mlbchaosqueen @winter-gardenflower @spicybelladonna @emo-elaine13 @vetilora @karukofox21 @my-name-is-michell  @sturchling @lokiifriggasonn @redscarlet95 @melicmusicmagic @interobanginyourmom @the-fusionist @razzledazzle247 @miss-mysterys-blog @darkthunder1589 @i-is-mysterious @catthhay @the-one-woman-army @zestyzealot @dahjokester @write-for-your-life2 @mermaidreject @peachedpocky @sassakitty @dahjokester @crazylittlemunchkin @novicevoice @justafanwarrior @eliza-bitch @schrodingers25 @tired-butterfly @toodaloo-kangaroo @redscarlet95 @miukiiu @sassakitty @corabeth11 @vixen-uchiha

[tae-cup]

.hamartia. ‘Part 4,

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (f) x Taehyung (?)

Genre: Mafia!Au, Fluff, Angst (Mostly angst oopsies) I DO NOT CONDONE BEHAVIOR DISPLAYED IN THIS, PLEASE IT’S FICTION AND DON’T DO STUPID THINGS THANK YOU

Plot: Y/N is a skilled, well, torturer, though you don’t like to call yourself that; it makes what you do too real. When mafia boss Yoongi wants information or wants a hostage to suffer, you step in. However, one fateful day you are thrown Taehyung, another person who does your line of work. You need answers, he is determined not to give them to you. That’s when you try...a different approach, and Yoongi is not pleased.

Rating: TV-MA

WARNINGS: YO IF YOU’RE NOT COOL WITH SUBTLE BI AGENDAS THEN I’M SORRY THIS IS NOT THE PLACE FOR YOU, Blood, torture, mafia things (ya know?), drugs alcohol, sadistic tendencies, a fundamentally flawed main character (I’m sorry i’m just writing myself pretty much), assault, harassment, stalking (not bad), romance (somehow), Maybe stockholm syndrome???

Word Count: 2.1K words

A/N: I’m sorry there’s not a lot of Taehyung here, but there will be in the next chapter >:) I’m also really like to think that House of Memories by Panic! At The Disco is the theme song for this series. 

Other:

Masterlist

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Next

guilt

~ guilt is an affective state in which one experiences conflict at having done something that one believes one should not have done (or conversely, having not done something one believes one should have done).

-

-

“Is that all?” Yoongi raised a questioning eyebrow.

It had been a solid two weeks since Taehyung was moved to better treatment. Two weeks and you had yet to learn much about him. He didn’t speak to you when you came to talk to him, he rarely responded. You deduced he either had balls of steel or was terrified out his mind. You chose the former considering his serious disposition. Even if he wasn’t in this situation, you suspected he would be a rather serious man.

“Yes.” You paused. “Well, I found out his favorite color is gray.”

“Oh?”

“It wasn’t on purpose. He didn’t tell me, but you know me, Yoongi,” You glanced to meet his eyes for the first time this whole meeting. “You know I’m an observer. I see the smallest twitch of relaxation when there’s a gray colored item. Of course, he’s a smart man...” You trailed off. Taehyung could be deceiving you to believe one way.

“And what have you done with this information?” The pale man didn’t seem amused.

“I’ve taken away anything gray.” That also meant you had to change up your wardrobe, which was annoying. Gray was a go to color of yours. In the morning, you had to ignore a third of your wardrobe. You were still using a subtle torture. Depraving him of certain colors and shapes was a softer way to approach this. You had seen excellent results in the past with this method, but it was often a slow burn.

Yoongi nodded his head slowly, seemingly thinking deeply. He didn’t return your gaze and instead looked toward the ceiling.

“Interesting.”

There was a long pause. You really had nothing else to report. Taehyung woke up at 3 A.M. in the freaking morning everyday, if you could even call that morning. He managed to wake up before you. And with your absolutely fucked sleep schedule, he was almost making your life hell. wait a minute.

“Can I be dismissed?” You quickly said, already starting to stand up.

“You’ve figured something out, haven’t you?” He finally met your eyes. You had this spark, a sudden realization. You just nodded, trying to get out as soon as possible. You had a lot to discuss with Jimin.

“Fine, you’re dismissed.” Usually he wouldn’t allow such an outburst, but it was you. He had vowed never to yell at you again after what happened.

-

-

You found the silver haired man relaxing on a bench outside of one of the torture rooms. “Jimin.” You grabbed his arm hurriedly and hoisted him up to follow you before he could even say hi. He fell into step with you and panted after his rude awakening.

“What? Did something happ-”

“Jimin, Taehyung has been toying with us.” You almost shouted. Then you looked around the hallway, seeing it to be clear, and then lowered your voice.

“What do you mean.” Jimin hissed. He may be soft for the mafia, but he did not enjoy being fooled with.

“Taehyung has been making our lives miserable. He observed us, learned our patterns, and knew how to use them against us. We may be the ones in power, but Taehyung has managed to weasel his way in.” You paused to take a breath. Jimin stood, mouth agape.

“So...So he knew about...”

“He knew you’re soft. He knows I wake up at 5 A.M. so he pushed it further. He’s depriving us of sleep and humanity.” You bit your lip, thinking. What has he been doing? He just sits there, he doesn’t try to escape. He doesn’t talk, but he gives you just enough information. How did he learn to read people so well? It’s impossible for him to know everything about us from just us going in and out of that room...The color drained of your face as you thought of another possibility. No, it can’t be- Jimin pulled you out of your thoughts, saying the words you couldn’t bring yourself to say.

“He’s a distraction.”

-

-

“You’re not a monster, but you’re not the woman I fell in love with.” Yoongi stood stiff. He was always so blunt.

“Might I remind you,” You seethed, hands gripping the back of the seat tightly, your knuckles turning white. “You made me this way.”

He looked away, almost ashamed. “You wanted a job here, you didn’t want to feel like dead weight. I gave you a job.”

You scoffed, “Don’t blame this on me, Yoongi.”

“Fine.” He crossed his arms, leaning casually against the window sill. The office felt so dark, a tense fog filling the room. “The position was open and I saw you as just another worker who could fill it. I could have promoted Jimin, but I gave you respect and prestige.”

“You gave me hell.” You would get to his other insults in a moment, but you needed to think. You were so enraged you could barely breathe. You were so distraught you tears springing to your eyes. But you refused to let him see you cry. You bit back the lump in your throat, swallowing thickly. A moments pause and the room felt like a tinderbox ready to catch fire. All that was needed was the matchstick to light everything ablaze.

You feared setting the room ablaze, but then you looked at his eyes, cold and merciless. And you decided, this room feels stuffy anyway, it would look prettier ablaze. You took a deep breath.

“Funny, that you can speak of prestige and respect when everyone is just terrified of you. There’s no respect in sight, just fear.” You stated plainly. “And I don’t fear you, but I sure as hell will never respect you after this. We’re over, Yoongi.” You knew you had wounded him sufficiently. You grabbed your bag, deciding that the ashes falling around you weren’t salvageable, and stormed out of the room. The office door slammed shut and you swore you would never step foot in there again.

But yet again, you lied to yourself. Again and again you said it would be the last time you saw him, that you’d leave and escape this world, but every time you drove out of town, you turned back around. You were utterly helpless, stuck. If only this was some sick love story where he would run after you. You wanted him to, but if those ashes meant anything, it meant death. Death of your love. And Yoongi would never run to you. After all...you were just another member of his illusive gang.

-

-

So here you were, breaking your own promises time and time again. You paced, unable to stop. It had been long since you felt pain looking at him, but you still felt your heart twinge to hear his voice.

“Listen, I’m telling you, Yoongi, this is a trap. He’s stalling, he’s being a distraction. Have you even heard from the other gangs in weeks?”

The slight twitch in his lips told you that he hadn’t. He carefully placed his whiskey down.

“That’s a big accusation. We are on good terms with most gangs in the area. It’s normal not to hear from them for a while.”

“No, no, you don’t understand. There’s been nothing. No crime, no new headlines.”

That got him a little more worried.

“What would their reasons be? We haven’t done anything terrible.”

“We’ve stolen land, cheated deals, killed their men. They fear us, but they’ve only just realized that with all of them combined, they can outnumber us.” You stopped pacing, almost panting from the adrenaline flowing through your veins. You felt like you were on some strange kind of high.

Yoongi was staring at you. Slowly, slowly, he stood. He went around his desk and leaned on the other side.

“I see what you mean. I’ll send Mark and Jungkook out to check on the other gangs tomorrow. We’ll prepare for an invasion, heighten security. If they get suspicious, we’ll just say it’s better to be on the safe side.” Yoongi said. Then he looked at you expectantly, as if he thought you would argue.

This would be a time to have the upper hand on Taehyung and his supposed plan. You couldn’t show all your cards of let him know you knew.

“We can’t be 100% sure.” You said quickly, trying to manage expectations.

“Funny, coming from someone who was so certain a few moments ago.”

There it was again. That tension hung in the air. Funny. That’s how you had started it ages ago. It felt exactly like it was a few months ago.

“You should get more sunlight, Yoongi, you look too pale.” You said offhandedly, trying to ease the tension.

“I could say the same to you. You prefer the prisoners underground to the members above ground.” He fired back.

“At least they can’t argue with me.” Your lips pricked up into a small smile.

Yoongi studied you, licking his lips. Then he smiled as well. The playful banter reminded you of when you were together. The memories were painted blue now; a symbol of what once was. He seemed to be thinking the same.

“Dismissed.” He said quietly. You simple nodded and left, softly shutting the door behind you.

-

-

Your steps are light. You could be an assassin with how well you had learned your way around this house. You knew every creaky floorboard and every squeaky door handle. For once, you didn’t feel like going back down to the artificial lighting of the basement rooms. Perhaps I’ll follow what Yoongi said. You then frowned thinking of the smug grin he would have on his face if you ever said that out loud.

He was right in some aspect. You hadn’t spent much time outside in the past few weeks. You mostly split your time between your room, the basement, and the surveillance room.

You spotted a tall man at the end of the hallway. He was on the phone and you didn’t really want to run into him anyway. Kim Namjoon was an excellent snake for the Bangtan Mafia. You just didn’t want to interact with the snake. He really was a good charmer and he knew how to say the right things at the right time. In fact, you would have enlisted his help with Taehyung if he hadn’t been so busy. Sadly, this snake was also standing right near your door, as if he had been waiting for you.

You wanted to slip by him unnoticed, but you should have known it would take a little more than that to slip past the silver tongue of Bangtan.

“Ah, I’ve got to go.” You heard him speaking. “My deepest apologies.” he spoke before hanging up. You never trusted that man.

“Hello, Kim.” You simply nodded, trying to get past quickly.

“Oh, no need for the formalities. We’re all a family here.” The corners of his lips tilted upwards in an almost smile, not quite enough to show the dimples in his cheeks. He used to be a friend, never close, but you had burned that bridge a while ago as well.

“Right...Namjoon.” You corrected yourself. You managed to get by when his hand shot out and grasped your arm.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” He quirked his head to the side. You had to stop yourself from glancing at the door across from your room. Inside was Taehyung. You wonder if he could hear you.

“I just have business to attend to.” You said vaguely.

“A little birdy told me we have a guest.”

You paused, hands suddenly sweating. You kept a straight face, not daring to move.

“Does that birdy have pale skin and wear suits when it’s entirely unnecessary?” You raised an eyebrow. Namjoon laughed, obviously over exaggerated. To an ordinary person, it would feel genuine.

“Perhaps.” He wouldn’t let his cards show.

“I really have to-”

“I heard he’s been..difficult. I could speak to him if you’d like help.”

“That’s really not necessary. I have it handled.” You ripped your arm away from his grasp.

“He’s in there, right?” He tilted his head towards the door across from yours.

“How did you know?” You narrowed your eyes.

“Just a hunch.” The prick then slid to the side and let you pass. “A pleasure to speak to you again, Y/N.”

When he was gone, you huffed and opened your room door. Annoying prick.

-

-

asflksajglsghs;agj thanks for reading! Part 5 soon- and I have big plans. I hope the lack of taehyung isn’t too disappointing here :(

Alrighty see y’all next chapter!

Previous | Next

[fandomqueen74]

Hold Me

A/N: If we like this character/dynamic I honestly have a shit ton of like little stories like this in my mind and can write them. I’m always a sucker for Obi Wan and he doesn’t get nearly enough love on Tumblr so send me your thoughts.

Description: (Y/n) was a padawan in the Jedi temple when she was younger, she trained with Obi Wan Kenobi and the two have always been great friends. At the start of the war however (y/n) lost her master and was not seen fit to attempt the trial. With the war just starting she was instead moved to the senate. She had been raised in the Jedi temple and the Jedi wished to have a representative in the senate and thought (y/n) would be great at it. After a particularly hard day (y/n) plans to sneak out of the Jedi temple to go to the slums of Coruscant and enjoy some old grimy bars.

12:00 A.M. - Midnight

“And where exactly are you going?” Obi Wan’s calm voice stopped (y/n) in her tracks, her hand half stretched out towards the elevator button. She looked over her shoulder a slight smirk as she pressed the button, a soft ding ringing through the lobby space as she turned to face her old friend.

“Out,” (Y/n) smirked, her hands on her hips, a few credits tucked into a hidden pocket. Obi Wan was not smiling though, instead, his face held a scowl as his eyes raked over (y/n)’s appearance.

“Dressed like that?” He raised an eyebrow at (y/n), what she was wearing could barely be called an outfit. She had on a small black mini skirt and a bright red tank top that seemed to have no back to it, showing her bare skin. 

“I’m going drinking, sue me,” (Y/n) flipped Obi Wan off, turning to face the elevator again. 

“(Y/n) it’s dangerous for you to go out like this…” Obi Wan shoved his hands into his cloak, standing next to (y/n). He knew she wasn’t going to change her mind, so he might as well join her.

“Why cause I’m not a Jedi?” (Y/n) now glared at Obi Wan. It had been a long day and (y/n) couldn’t spend the entire not just stuffed in this pretentious building full of pretentious ass hats.

“No, because you’re a senator and it's one in the morning and you’re barely wearing any clothes,” Obi Wan huffed slightly. He could sense the hate in (y/n)’s thoughts and he hadn’t meant to come off sounding preachy, he just didn’t want (y/n) to be hurt.

“I’m going out drinking Obi Wan, either join me or don’t, it's up to you” The elevator dinged as the doors slide open. (Y/n) threw her hands up in an invitation as she walked backwards into the elevator.

“Someone has to make sure you’re safe” Obi Wan sighed, holding his hand out to keep the doors from closing on him as he slid into the elevator next to (y/n).

“It’ll be just like old times” (Y/n) grinned, pressing a button and sending the pair off on a night of adventures.

______________________________________

2:30 A.M.

“Okay okay, I’ll make you a deal. You share two more drinks and a dance with me then we can go back” (Y/n) smiled, leaning against the old counter, her now empty glass rolling slightly in her hand. She had drank less than she had planned to, but she still had a buzz. Obi Wan was a fantastic friend and she had missed him because of this stupid war.

“Thank you” Obi Wan sighed, calling the bartender over to the pair of them. He ordered a set of shots and a set of some foreign alcohol that (y/n) could vaguely remember to be his favorite.

“Wouldn’t want you sleep deprived for your training session tomorrow,” The shots came first as the bartender had to go in the back to get Obi Wan’s drink.

“How did you…” Obi Wan had a small smile on his face. He had been able to loosen up in the crowded environment, so far no one had recognized them and they somehow managed to blend in.

“Anakin invited me to watch, he said this was going to be the time that the student became the master” (Y/n) smiled as the bartender came back with the other drinks. She sent him a wink causing a green blush to emerge on his blue skin as he moved on to the next customer. Obi Wan rolled his eyes, but enjoyed his drink anyway, a familiar buzz now taking him. He couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol of the smile on (y/n)’s face as she focused back on him.

“The boy has potential” Obi Wan nodded slightly and (y/n) scrunched her face, setting down her now empty cup and taking Obi Wan’s from his hand.

“Come on, I don’t want to talk about that right now” (Y/n) grabbed Obi Wan’s arm, pulling him on to the dance floor as a slow song began to start.

“(Y/n)-” Obi Wan warned, but his voice died as (Y/n) wrapped his arms around her and she locked her own arms around his head.

“Just hold me and sway to the music” There were still smiles playing on both their lips as they slowly found the pulse of the song, swaying with other drunken couples as the alcohol quickly began to lose effect on both of them.

“You can hold me tighter Obi Wan, no one is going to recognize us” (Y/n) moved closer, her body flush with Obi Wans as she leaned her head on his shoulder. Her breath tickled his neck and he found himself fighting the urge to nuzzle deeper inter her embrace.

“This is dangerous (Y/n)...” Obi Wan warned, but his hand wrapped tighter around her. He closed his eyes and listen to the sound of her sweet voice and the pulse of the song.

“It’s only for one song Obi, please, just hold me” (Y/n)’s voice was barely above a whisper, but Obi Wan could have picked it out anywhere.

“Why did you come out drinking tonight?” Obi Wan’s thumbs rubbed small circles on (y/n)’s back. (Y/n) very rarely went drinking, and never would she go alone unless she felt truly alone.

“No one in the senate takes me seriously, I hear the whispers behind my back. They call me the failed Jedi” (Y/n) fingers gripped the back of Obi Wan’s robes. She refused to cry again today. She had already done enough of that, now she simply felt anger.

“I’m sorry” Obi Wan’s hand now made smooth circles on her back as she pulled away slightly, searching his face. She wondered what he thought of her, he was one of the few who knew, or even remembered what happened.

“They have no right to, I’m not a failure, it’s not my fault my master…”

“It’s okay, I’m sorry” The song ended and more people moved to crowd on the dance floor as a more upbeat song played. Obi Wan lead (y/n) out of the crowd and towards the bar, paying the bartender for their drinks.

“Let’s go” Obi Wan mumbled. (Y/n)’s face had hardened slightly, but she nodded. She was still caught in memory of her old master, but the spell broke as soon as they stepped outside.

“Fuck, should have brought a jacket” Goosebumps instantly appeared on (y/n)’s arms, causing Obi Wan to chuckle.

“Here, I figured you were going to get cold anyway” Obi Wan shrugged off his outer robe, wrapping it around (y/n). It was slightly too big for her, but only just. The pair caught a ride back to the Jedi temple, no words were exchanged, but Obi Wan’s hand never left (y/n). Whether it rested on her thigh or guided her from her back, it was always there.

“Want to go for a walk around the gardens? I don’t feel like turning in just yet” Obi Wan broke the silence as the pair rode up in the elevator. 

“Obi Wan, I don’t think that would be smart” (Y/n) shook her head. They were already pushing not being caught sneaking out together, but to be caught in the gardens at this time of the morning alone… The Jedi weren’t stupid, and neither was she.

“Come on, its three in the morning, no one is going to be up” The door of the elevator dinged open and Obi Wan grabbed (y/n)’s hand, pulling her into the gardens. The did a lap around the garden, falling into old jokes and small teases. Obi Wan’s arm was now firmly wrapped around (y/n)’s waist.

“Obi Wan, someone will recognize us here” Obi Wan pulled (y/n) close as the conversation fell into a lull. He slowly began to sway back and forth and (y/n) began to collapse into him.

“Shhh, just let me hold you again” His voice was barely above a whisper, but his heart hammered in his chest. How long had he want to do this? When was the last time he fell asleep not thinking of her?

“When did we start down this path?” (Y/n) rested her head again on Obi Wan’s shoulder, her fingers running through the ends of his hair.

“A long, long time ago” Obi Wan closed his eyes, leaning his own cheek slightly against (y/n)’s, breathing in her sent.

“Are we going to do anything about it?” (Y/n) could her heart beat and Obi Wan’s, it was comforting knowing that both of their hearts were beating impossibly fast.

“Maybe after this war” Obi Wan moved away slightly, (y/n) still trapped in his arms, but he wanted to study her face. Remember what she looked like when she wasn’t pretending for anyone else.

“What if the war never ends?” (Y/n) bit her lip slightly. Both of them had barely been adults when this war started. Now, Obi Wan had an aged padawan and (y/n) was holding the attention of millions in the senate on a daily basis.

“Do you think that it won’t end?” Obi Wan slowly stopped swaying, tucking a loose hair out of (y/n)’s face as his fingers lingered there for just a moment.

“No, but I don’t know if it will end in our favor” (Y/n) shook her head slightly. She could sense the war would be over soon, she just couldn’t tell who would win.

“I worry about that too sometimes” Obi Wan nodded somberly. This had been a constant anxiety for him on the battlefield. He worried each mission would be his last, and he worried that he would never be able to hold (y/n) again.

“Do you think Anakin will be able to bring back balance to the force?” (Y/n) slowly untangled herself from Obi Wan’s arms, holding on to his hand and leading them both back to the elevator. It was time for them to say good night.

“He’s our only hope”

[irondadfics]

would you mind finding some kid peter parker fics (especially if he was refused from hydra?) thanks so much!! we love you 💕💕

Thanks for the ask! We love you too! 

Here are a few fics that feature kid!Peter being rescued from HYDRA.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine by Pookiethefrickinbunn

With Tony’s track record of never sleeping it figured that someone would call him in the middle of the night, the one night that he decided to actually go to bed at a decent time.“Friday, time,” he muttered, rubbing his face with a calloused hand as the lights in the room began to fade up.“It is currently 2:31 a.m. boss,” the AI responded before adding. “Captain Rogers is on the line.”Well, that woke Tony up.——Or, Steve calls Tony after finding a boy in a HYDRA lab who has a file stating that he is the son of Tony Stark.Formally Titled: Still Here.

Castle on a Cloud by CaptainStarSong 

“How the Hell am I supposed to help some kid when half the time my own life is crashing and burning,” Tony asked, incredulous that Fury was thinking that he could possibly take care of some little boy that he didn’t even know. There was a reason why Tony’s life was practically always falling a part, why the closest people around him either died or left him. It wouldn’t be fair to bring some kid into the mix of his crazy life, especially after Afghanistan.Fury took a deep breath as looked at Tony with a hint of pity. “Because, Tony, his name is Peter and he’s your son.”Or in which SHIELD finds a young and hurt Peter after raiding a HYDRA base, and Tony must learn how to become the father Peter needs.

darkness will be rewritten by homebuilding

“Richard Parker was studying Cross-Species Genetics, but struggled with the ethics of it, because it required he use human DNA, which no ethics board would agree with. So he used his own. His work was successful based off of his own DNA, and every human has a unique DNA,” Bruce explains. “So, naturally, when HYDRA wanted his research, they knew they would never get his support, so they took the next best thing they could to his own DNA. His son.“Or, Tony finds a tortured and experimented-on Peter Parker in a HYDRA base and decides to help him because who else will?

And here are some more fics with a similar premise (Peter being raised by HYDRA), but he’s a teenager in these. They are all worth checking out!  

cry a storm of tears (if it helps you breathe) by homebuilding (the sequel to ‘darkness will be rewritten’)

Peter has been away from the grasps of HYDRA for 8 years. By now, one would assume he has escaped from their hold on him, right? He has gone through enough healing that his time with them should be a distant memory. However, with his nightmares returning to him at full-force and his body developing in ways he doesn’t want it to, Peter decides that something needs to change. He needs to take back what HYDRA stole from him. He’ll do whatever it takes.He just can’t let his dad know about it.

I Never Knew I Was Broken by GotMyInkPen 

Peter Parker has been living in HYDRA ever since his parents died at age four. All he can remember are the lesson’s HYDRA taught him and a series of words that strike fear into his heart. The only thing driving him forward are the memories of meeting his hero The Winter Soldier when he was seven and the goal to one day be as great an assassin as him.At age sixteen Peter finds himself tangled in the lives of the Avengers and can’t help but wonder if there’s more to life than what he’s been told.Tony wants to help him, no matter what.

I’ll Take You Under My Wing by agib, Shoyzz

Obadiah and Howard let HYDRA test on Tony Stark as a child. Now he has wings.Many years later, HYDRA contacts them out of the blue, wanting Tony back.Being the good friend Rhodey is, he warns Tony and supports his choice to go off the grid.Tony’s not upset about going on the run, although nothing can prepare him for what HYDRA has created and experimented on for fourteen years…Or - The Maximum Ride AU that (I hope) people wanted…

In The Woods Somewhere by iamq 

Re-write of "The Rituals of You and Me”.Tony Stark finds HYDRA’s latest weapon in the cold Russian woods, half starved and frozen near to death. Tony Stark adopts HYDRA’s latest weapon and takes him to the New York concrete jungle, makes him a home, and gives him a family.

The Wolf Spider by PeterNeedsAHugParker

Peter Parker was never raised with his Aunt May or Uncle Ben. He was raised by HYDRA to be a weapon just like, or even better then, the Winter Soldier. After ten years, Peter has lost all hope that he will ever make it out of HYDRA’s clutches. Until the Avengers are unknowingly sent to retrieve Peter. Maybe they can help Peter understand that he can be more then some weapon. AU where the team actually talked out their problems, like an actual team would.

hydra’s not a home by tempestaurora(series) 

At 6 years old, the son of Tony and Pepper Stark, Peter, is kidnapped, never to be seen again. Or, so they thought. Ten years later, while raiding a HYDRA base, the Avengers come across a new, enhanced individual, working for the enemy: in black spandex, with a tendency to stick to walls and shoot webs from his wrists, the Black Spider is a pain in the ass in more ways than one.

[prkchimins]

Bad Dream

Jungkook x Reader

A really fluffy and kinda angsty one shot w/ roommate jungkook.

summary: You have a crush on your best friend, who is conveniently your roommate, who is inconveniently in a relationship. You wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare and make your way to Jungkook's room for comfort.

word count: 1.3k

You came home from a long day of studying at the library with your friend, Namjoon. Finals are next week and you have been stressing out this whole weekend, and what better way to prepare with the smartest friend you know. You shut your apartment door kicking off your shoes, but soon realize a pair of black high heels next to your feet. You were familiar with their owner, Lalisa.

You let out a big sigh and made your way to the kitchen. Lisa and Jungkook have been in a relationship for a month now, and you have been devastated ever since. It was your fault however, since you were the one who set those two up in the first place.

You should have never brought Lisa to your apartment for a movie night, because little did you know Jungkook would have a crush on her. Now you barely got to hang out with Lisa, since she was spending all her time with your best friend, who was conveniently your roommate.

You open the freezer and take out a tube of chocolate ice cream. You grab a spoon from the drawer and walk down the hallway to your bedroom. Before you could open your door, Lisa came out of Jungkook's room. "Oh hey Y/N." She says as if you haven't seen her in three weeks.

"Hey Lisa." You give her a weak smile and turn to twist your doorknob. She stops you and catches you by your wrist, "We should hang out more. I really miss you."

You were about to respond,  before Jungkook comes out of his room locking eyes on you,"Y/N! When did you get home? I told you I wanted to study with you for finals, but you left before I could get changed."

"I didn't want to keep Namjoon waiting, and you told me Lisa was already coming over." You shrugged. "You could have at least waited for me or I could have brought Lisa along with us." Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows.

"It's ok honey, I wanted to have alone time with you anyways." Lisa turned to face Jungkook and gave him a kiss on the lips as if she wasn't making out with him a few minutes ago. You barely get to see him anymore, because he's always at her apartment.

You take this opportunity to open your bedroom door and let the two lovebirds make out in the hallway, because it wasn't a sight you wanted to see. You plop down onto your bed with the ice cream still in your hand. You grabbed your laptop and started to pick a movie to watch on Jungkook's Netflix, because you didn't want to pay for your own.

A few minutes pass by as Jungkook opens your bedroom door. "I thought I told you to knock every time you come in here. What if I was changing?" You roll your eyes. "Would that be so bad if you were changing?" He laughs as he jumps onto your bed now on top of you. "Jungkook no you have a girlfriend! And get off of me!" You whine looking up at his doe eyes.

He was cute. His hair was wavy and little curly today, and he wore his usual long white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. He looked down at you with his bunny smile, "Y/N, you're cute when you're mad." "Don't distract me. You're still crushing me!" You yell as you roll Jungkook off of you and onto his side.

He turns to face you and looks at your computer screen, "Are you still using my Netflix?" "Maybe....." Your voice trails off. "You told me you were going to get your own last week." He pouted with his lip jutted out. "Yeah, I lied." You whisper looking at him.

"Y/N!" He yells as he begins to tickle you. You start uncontrollably laughing, since he knows all your ticklish spots. Of course knew all your weaknesses, because you've been best friends since you were kids.

He eventually brings a stop to your suffering and watches the movie with you on his Netflix. An hour passes and you doze off with your head resting on Jungkook's chest. He realizes that you're asleep, because he can hear your faint snores.

He thought you were absolutely adorable when you fell asleep, because of how at peace you looked. He pressed a kiss onto your forehead and wrapped you with your blanket. He switched off your light and quietly shut your bedroom door.

~~~

You wake up in a panic with your breath heavy. You shoot up from your bed frantically looking around the room. You realize that it was just a nightmare and focus on controlling your breathing. You whip your tears that started to drip down your face.

You turn over to hug yourself closer to Jungkook, but then realize the spot next to you was  empty. You look at the clock on your nightstand to reveal it was 2:00 a.m. You let out a big sigh and blankly stare at the ceiling wiping more of your tears.

You shut your eyes and continue to toss and turn for the next hour. You're too afraid to fall asleep and you throw your blanket off your body to march to Jungkook's room across the hall. You softly knock on his door and slightly open it. Jungkook's a light sleeper and he groggily opens his eyes, "Y/N?"

"I had a bad dream." You quietly say and stare at the sleepy headed boy. "Come here, baby." He motions for you to lay next to him. You shut his door and quietly make your way to his bed. You lay next to him as he wraps his arms around you.

You feel tears start to form, "I was so scared, and you weren't there for me. You start to cry more and he holds you closer, "Shhhh, it's okay baby. I'm here for you now." You press your hands to cover your face and sob, "No you weren't, you chose her. You had to chose between who you would save from dying, and you chose her."

Jungkook takes your hands away from your face to look at your eyes, "It was all a bad dream, you know I would never do that to you." "If it actually came down to saving me or Lisa, you would save her." You sniffle, hiding your face into his chest.

"Y/N, I would never. I would always chose you, no matter what." Jungkook reassured wiping the tears streaming down your face. "You already did though, you are her boyfriend." You say looking into his confused eyes. "Where is this all coming from Y/N? Why are you lashing out on me?" Jungkook questions with his hands still holding either side of your face.

"It's because I like you Jungkook. I have liked you ever since we were kids, and I never told you how I really felt. I didn't want to be selfish and have you all for myself, because I wanted you to be happy. I soon realized when you started dating Lisa, that I did want you for myself and--" Jungkook cut you off pressing his soft lips against yours. You stay there in shock for a couple of seconds and kiss him back, but soon pull away and realize,  "You can't cheat on Lisa with me!"

"I broke up with her before she left today, because I didn't like her the way I like you too." He gave me a small smile. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" You ask wide eyed gawking at him. "I wasn't sure if you would like me back." Jungkook shrugs rubbing the back off his head.

A/N: omfg uwu ~ you can send one shot requests if you want me to write other stuff and sorry for any errors, my writing isn't the best lol

[booksandeverything-in-between]

My journalism journey

... has only just begun! 

This is my post for the “Life Narrative” assignment for JTC 326. I’ve added a “keep reading” tab because I hate putting extremely long posts on my dashboard! Keep in mind too, I’ve formatted this to fit the platform, so it’s not strictly professional. 

Also  — this is the first time I’ve shared my Tumblr with anyone who is not my sister, but it’s the perfect platform for this. 

** All pictures were taken by me unless otherwise specified, some taken from my old blog posts on here. 

A note before I start: When I first thought about this assignment, I had so many things I thought I could share, a lot of them deeply personal, somewhat dark and just not the right fit. I had a bit of a crisis; I cried a little. There is so much in my past that makes me, me, that I’ve only ever really shared with my therapist, but have generally wanted to write about. But it’s hard, and I don’t know how. And a whole lot of other stuff. BUT THEN

I realized I could share a story that I have always wanted to share! It perfectly relates to our class too and basically everything anyone would ever need to know about me! It’s amazing! I’m so excited! I hope you like it! 

(line break) 

It’s the summer before sixth grade. That’s how I define, or sort, my life, in my memories. It’s the year of school, or it’s the summer before/after. It’s not my age, or the calendar year; it’s school. For a long time my whole identity revolved around school, so it fits. 

Anyway, I’m bored. My older sister and I can only do so much Netflix-watching (because we didn’t have cable) on the Wii (because this was 2011), and I need something to stimulate my active mind. Here comes books! 

I’ve always, always been an avid reader. I was the first person in my first grade class to start reading chapter books  — something I liked to brag about a lot back then. But I’m about to be a middle schooler, so I need to find something a little more mature. My parents decide that I’m at an appropriate age to start reading some of my sister’s old books, which were originally marked for garage sale. 

One of these books has a long, juicy title, with a teen girl posed on the cover in a preppy school uniform, hand on her hip. I don’t have to look this up to remember; it is forever in my mind. The book is I’d Tell You I Love You, But Then I’d Have to Kill You by Ally Carter. Juicy, right? AND I LOVE IT. Seriously. Love. It. 

Photo: I’d Tell You I Love You, But Then I’d Have to Kill You by Ally Carter. 

... And I guess I move on. That part is a little fuzzy. Enter: Back to School Night, sixth grade. I always would go with my mom, because I loved school, and nights like those I thought were super cool. So, I’m hanging out with my best friend Sydney by the stairs, and she has this book from the school library with her. 

Do you believe in fate? Was it kismet? I do not know; I will not guess. But I do know, I freaked the f*ck out. Because it was the book, by Ally Carter!! I loved that book! When I asked Sydney where she got it, she said in the library, and there were a bunch of other books like it. 

That made me pause. Honestly, I couldn’t believe it. Because, what do you know, it was a series!! There were three other books to be read! How, oh how, did I not know this? It had to be fate. 

I can still picture exactly where the books are, in the Preston library. The smaller shelf, up against the wall, right by the opening into the conference/meeting room space (I don’t know what we called that room???). Bottom shelf. 

Who knew a series about teenage girls going to a spy school would set me on this path? 

Suddenly it’s the summer after sixth grade, and once again, I’m bored. But, I have access to a netbook, that my grandpa gave us. Something entices me to start Googling these books. I find Ally Carter’s website. I found out that there are going to be two more books in the series. And I stumble upon this Google search suggestion, with the word fanfiction. 

And wow. 

Stories, countless stories, about my favorite books. Eventually, I make my own account on fanfiction.net, I try my hand at some of my own stories, I get a smartphone and make this very tumblr account when I turn 13, I find a place where I can express all my nerdiness in peace and all-caps, without any sort of ridicule fear. 

But that’s not the end, nor the point, of this story. 

Photo: The first four books in the Gallagher Girls series by Ally Carter. 

(line break) 

So here I am, spending all my free time secretly reading fanfic and trying to write it, and hating my life sometimes and thinking about what I want to study in college because that’s my best chance at escape from this life that I feel I’m stuck in. 

But I can’t think of anything to write! I love to read; I enjoy writing; I am learning more about grammar because my dad has me grading his grammar quizzes he gave his JTC 300 students; but still, something isn’t right. I viscerally hate English class. 

But! There’s a way I CAN write, without it being creative! My dad is going to school for photojournalism, my sister took a high school journalism class, and now it’s my turn to register for classes in high school. I sign up for Journalism 1, the precursor to Journalism 2, which is the class that houses the student newspaper. It’s a great plan. It was a good class.

I was looking through my old journal the other day, and I came across this line dated from September 23, 2014, just into the beginning of my freshman year of high school. “I want to be a journalist.” 

Photo: A journal entry that reads, “I want to be a journalist.” 

My sophomore year of high school, I take Journalism 2 and join the paper. I’m kind of terrified because there are a bunch of people I don’t know and now I’ll actually have to go out and report and talk to people ... but we do some really fun team-building, and people seem to like me, and I relax. I feel, just a little, like a really belong. 

And I had felt that way before, during band, and with some of my friends, but this thing, this journalism thing, I’m actually good at it. And there’s this one moment that sticks out to me still. 

It’s probably 7:20 a.m. I’m trudging up the steps to Spanish class, and I do not want to be there. It’s not that I don’t like school, or I don’t like my classes, because I do. But I’m tired, and it’s not what I want to be doing. I think, if I could spend the entirety of my day in my journalism class, I would be happy. 

To this day, as a college student, I am jealous of the people who get to spend their whole days doing journalism. 

I’ve found more than a home. I’ve found a place where, for what feels like the first time, I can speak my mind. I can be sarcastic, I can make a pun and I can also point out when there’s a bad typo somewhere and have that be appreciated. 

Halfway through my first year writing for the paper, I’m given extra responsibilities and get to start copy editing articles from the students in the J1 class, and I start to learn how to redesign/maintain our Wordpress site. I go on a class trip to Los Angeles, an amazing feat of independence for me, and I feel valued. And then, I’m award the position of Copy Editor for the next school year! It’s amazing. 

I learn my junior year that the freshmen whose articles I edited were afraid of me. Afraid, of me! (For reference, I am five feet tall). But once they met me, they were like ‘Woah, Serena’s not scary!” and now we’re good friends. I’ve since learned to be less harsh/blunt in my editing. 

My senior year, I was Editor-in-Chief. That was something I dreamed about as a freshman, but wouldn’t let myself actually fathom. And even though I felt like I could have done a much better job, and I had a lot of personal sh*t to do with too, by the end of the year, I knew that I was leaving behind a strong legacy. 

It’s really something special when people you love give you a speech, crying, telling you how much you welcomed them, how much you made them feel like they had a place to grow, to be, and how much you’ve inspired them. 

Because journalism, especially student journalism, is about so much more than the news. It’s about a community. It’s community with your fellow reporters and editors, it’s comradery while kicking ass, it’s creating a community with your readers and your peers, it’s learning about the community you live in and sharing the ups and downs of life. 

Photo: A screenshot from my Instagram account of my high school journalism family, taken at our end of the year picture my junior year of high school. We had this running joke that I was going to be a world-dominator type person (because I’m so tiny and quiet) and my teacher said, “Okay, Serena now push Katie over” because I was taking over as EIC. Photo credit goes to my teacher (not going to post his name here). 

(line break)  

I have a lot of setbacks, too. I have anxiety. Like, a lot. Of anxiety. I haven’t been formally diagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder, but I think I should be. 

I used to think I was just shy. And that was partially the case. But I grew from it, in large part because of journalism. I went from not sitting in my designated seat at the beginning of class because there were older kids in the way my freshman year, to leading the entire class three days a week my senior year. I liked high school journalism because I could get away with asking my friends for quotes, or just not really quoting anyone at all. 

I spent one quarter at the University of Denver last year, and it was somewhat the same thing. They didn’t have any strict standards on a number of sources, and I wrote articles that didn’t require speaking to a lot of people. But then, I took over nine months off from school in what should have been my freshman year of college, and thus took nine months off from journalism and reporting. So starting at The Collegian was a challenge. 

I am still damn proud of myself for getting up the courage, on the second day of classes at CSU, to go down to the newsroom and ask about reporting. I wouldn’t be where I am today if I didn’t, and I love where I am today. 

To think that wasn’t even a year ago ... 

Photo: Here I am, remote copy editing for The Collegian, the week after Spring Break. Photo cred to my dad. 

When I started at CSU, I felt good. I was nervous, but transferring was a really good decision, and I’m from Fort Collins, so I felt more comfortable. And at first, my reporting felt really good.

But then I got too stressed with school and work, and that stress led over to increases social anxiety when I was reporting. I went to this community meeting and tried to talk to people there, but I felt helpless and quiet and I left and cried to myself. I then conducted my interviews over the phone. 

I even had to take a break for a few months last semester, because I had a panic attack with the mere thought of approaching people I didn’t know. 

But I worked through it. Aided by Xanax and peer support, I interviewed a bunch of people at the Eva Schloss event and felt really good about it. I also saw my high school journalism advisor, because his wife works at CSU Hillel, and talking to someone who knew my struggle felt good. 

For a long time I’ve doubted if journalism, if news reporting, is something I’ll actually be able to do. It’s the only real thing that makes me feel like I have a purpose, the only thing that makes me not feel depressed about life, but I am still so worried I’ll hold myself back in some way. 

That hasn’t happened yet. 

(line break) 

It’s the summer before my junior year of high school, and I am about to go meet up with the other members of the new leadership team, Katie and Kathleen, at Starbucks. I’ve recently got my license and it feels really good to be driving myself around. 

I go to Target and buy a fancy looking notebook with the last $15 I have to my name, because I don’t have a job yet. I go to Starbucks and discover I like drinking tea. I talk with Katie and Kathleen and we brainstorm what we want the journalism class to look like next year. What we want to change, how we’re going to get students to know that we exist. 

It’s the summer before my senior year, and I bring this same notebook to a meeting at Dazbog that I have with our leadership team to get ready for the school year. I’m in charge. It’s weird, but in a good way. There are a lot more people there, and I fill pages upon pages of ideas, and agendas I want to start the first weeks with. 

So much had changed in a year. My parents got divorced, I started working a lot, I was looking more seriously into college. But so much was the same. The same people, the same work, the same purpose. It was good. 

It’s the second semester of my first year at CSU, my sophomore year of college. I’m at home, cleaning my room, procrastinating because I don’t want to write my final essay. I get a text from Laura, asking if I’ve heard back about the editorial board yet. I had shut my phone off because I was checking my email so obsessively. 

And there it is. I am going to be the 2020-2021 News Editor for The Rocky Mountain Collegian. I still don’t fully feel like I know what I’m doing, even though I have all this experience. News is happening, but it’s summer. Do I write about it? Do I ask other people to write about it? Can I express the authority and knowledge I know I have, to people who have more experience at the paper than I do? It’s still early. 

The day I get the news, I pull out an old, blue notebook that’s barely filled. It’s the perfect place to start brainstorming the things I want to change on the desk and the things I think are super important for Laura and me to talk about. 

I forgot that I had notes from my Editor-in-Chief days in there. 

Photo: The notebook!

It feels like I’ve completed a circle. Like all the highs and lows of my last few years have led me to here, right back to where I’m supposed to be. Where I’ve always known I would be. 

I know who I am; I know where I belong; I know my place and my purpose in this world. 

Ally Carter’s Gallagher Girls series brought me to writing, and writing brought me to journalism. In my obsession with those books, the unofficial motto of the CIA really resonated with me. “And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.” 

Community and truth, that’s journalism. 

I want to be a journalist.

I am a student journalist.

I am a journalist. 

[spookyblackwidow]

Fanfic request: Natasha's having nightmares and is getting super sleep deprived and it's kind of making her sick, and Clint notices and confronts her about it?

Author’s note: Nightmares are literally one of my favorite things to write about?? BLESS YOU. This is way longer than anticipated, but I hope you enjoy!

Weakness

2552 words

Natasha jolted awake, sweat beading on her forehead, a gun clutched in her hand, trained on an imaginary threat. The fear faded, slowly, as she became aware of her familiar surroundings, the antique furniture of the bedroom in her primary safe house just outside New York City. She shook off the dream and forced her ragged breathing to slow, an attempt to counteract her racing heart. It was just past 2 a.m., and, although she hadn’t been asleep long, she had enough experience to know she’d be awake for quite a while.

The glow of streetlights seeped through the blinds, softly illuminating strips of laminate beneath her feet. She made her way to the kitchen, resisting the innate urge to flip on lights and ensure her safety, certain enough of her movements and the reality that the danger she’d just emerged from would remain firmly in her mind, unable to creep out into existence. Realism and denial were programmed into her, a staunch refusal to take things at face value ingrained over years of reprogramming, the aliases and brainwashing that never seemed to end, no light at the end of a labyrinth. Tunnels were too linear, too neat, too easy to navigate. Her life had been a messy nightmare she couldn’t quite shake, no matter how much time had passed since she’d defected, since she’d last been unmade.

The kettle whistled, an agonizingly sharp whine burrowing its way into her exhausted brain. She swore under her breath and turned off the burner, annoyed she’d gotten so wrapped up inside her thoughts she’d lost awareness of her surroundings. Something wound through her legs, further startling her, the black shadow begging for attention, acknowledgement, anything.

“Fucking hell, Liho,” Natasha grumbled into her steaming mug of tea, her perpetually icy fingers clutching the ceramic, greedily absorbing its warmth. Carefully stepping around the way-too-fucking-alert cat, she settled into an oversized chair and clicked on a lamp, the pale light fighting against the encroaching darkness an all too familiar sight.

She picked up a book, its spine cracked, the edges worn and faded, a relic from a previous life, from back when she could dissociate enough to get lost in a story. It was one of the few things she’d carried with her into the Red Room, always safely stashed away under a mattress, stuffed in a threadbare pillowcase, buried within a carefully carved hole in the wall. She wasn’t quite sure how she’d managed to hold onto it through all the identities she’d been given, and whatever original meaning it had held was gone, but she liked the idea of having a tangible reminder of the innocent girl she’d once been. She’d tried night after night for years, but she couldn’t bring herself to read it, opting instead to study the dog-eared corners, the inked drawings scattered throughout, mostly doodles scribbled by unknown hands, each an everlasting mark of the book’s history.

Natasha paged through it, seeing but not comprehending the Cyrillic characters of her native tongue. This had become her nightly ritual, a way to detach from whatever horrible vision had awoken her, actions that would hopefully calm her enough to be able to sleep again, although it was never for long. How many years had she been sleeping so fitfully? Her whole life? Or maybe just the last several identities? She’d lost too much time, too much trust in reality to ever be sure. She closed her eyes, but she knew there’d be no more rest before sunrise.

Morning crept in, sunlight inching its way in through the windows, a warm hue that she might’ve derived pleasure from if this hadn’t been the eighteenth morning in a row she’d sat in the same chair, agonizingly awake, witnessing the same dreadful reminder that she’d soon be expected to do things. As it was nearing six, she figured she had just enough time to shower, get dressed, and wash her mug before the first message from Nick would arrive; after so many years working together, he was aware that she was typically an early riser, a fact he took full advantage of. Sure enough, she was placing the mug back in the cupboard when she got the call to come in.

She considered making breakfast, but her stomach turned, the mere idea of eating seemed revolting. The dull ache behind her eyes reminded her that skipping another meal was definitely not what she should be doing, but the food aversion won out, a side effect she’d mentally catalogued and shoved aside long ago.

Her debriefing was short—a routine tracking job, a potential hit, more busy work than anything. Nick handed her a new identity to become familiar with in the event she was cornered, along with one for Clint; it was officially a Strike Team: Delta mission, not that she needed the help, although she would be grateful for the company. As always, they’d improvise, no overly complex maneuvers, no extraction plan. All she needed now was her dumbass best friend to show up on time.

Nick left her to wait in his office, which, under normal circumstances wouldn’t bother her, but the leather chair and wide windows felt too much like home in the most literal sense, and she was getting restless. She stood—too quickly, she soon realized—and paced, her empty stomach complaining, small bursts of light dancing in her peripherals. She blinked away the spots, certain they’d been gold, although they’d simply been white earlier, as they should be. No, they shouldn’t be there at all.

Clint entered as she returned to her seat, physically drained, her head fuzzy and aching. His smile was exuberant, but his eyes flickered with concern, a quick once-over confirming that something was very much not okay with Nat. He shot her a knowing look before pasting the smile back on for Nick’s benefit; Clint acted like an idiot most of the time, but he knew better than to let anyone else worry about his best friend.

Natasha let her eyes track the birds flitting past the windows, slightly iridescent rock pigeons swooping about, bouncing across various ledges and sills, their feathers ruffling in the breeze. She was only faintly aware of Nick droning on in the background, her mind miles away, drifting somewhere among the birds. Clouds of smoke billowed up outside, the thick grey choking out parts of the city, flooding her vision until she could see nothing else. Her muscles tensed, heart rate steadily increasing, the flood of cortisol effectively convincing her this was how it all ended. She closed her eyes, anticipating a flash of heat, pain, and then nothing.

“Nat?” Clint placed a hand on hers, the rough pad of his thumb gently rubbing circles across her white knuckles, a familiar and instinctive action they rarely let others witness. She could hear the strain in his voice, thinly disguised as annoyance, nearly every part of their lives some sort of act, a far cry from who they were together, who they wanted to be. Having felt no other change, her body still intact, she slowly opened her eyes, blinking away the previous fogginess, restoring her sight to normal.

“Sorry, I got a little lost in thought there.” She smiled weakly, just enough to shake off concern, but not too much to raise suspicion. “Where were we?”

“Reviewing your identities. I shouldn’t have to remind you that being well-versed in your backstory could make the difference between life and death,” Nick said.

She struggled to focus through the rest of the meeting, her mind straying to the horrors that had been keeping her up at night, the visions that she knew would never truly leave her, rather mutating into increasingly unsettling versions of themselves, morphing with other memories and fears. The red in her ledge had merged with her vivid imagination, creating monstrosities she didn’t care to reveal to anyone, as letting them out of her mind, giving voice to the atrocities, would only spread the nightmare, infecting her most trusted friends with the concepts, irreparably contaminating their thoughts and dreams. She knew he would ask, as he always had in times like these, but she wouldn’t share, couldn’t willingly harm him. The secrecy would hurt him enough, he didn’t need to allow her worst fears to become his own.

He waited for the elevator doors to close before confronting her, one hand wrapped firmly around her bicep, the other pivoting her shoulder so she’d face him. Normally she’d fight back, at the very least pry his fingers off her arm, but fighting this seemed pointless. Instead, she fought the resurfacing image from the night before, the pain of Clint following through on Loki’s promise. They stood in silence a few moments as he studied her.

“You’re not sleeping, are you.” It was not a question but a final conclusion, spot-on, as always.

“Not for lack of trying.” She shrugged as much as she was able to in his grasp, which had let up only slightly.

“Nightmares again?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really. My bad dreams aren’t really your concern.”

“Of course they are! Do you think I like seeing you like this? My best friend, sick, practically a zombie!” He finally released her arm to run his fingers through his hair in exasperation.

“For fuck’s sake, I’m not a zombie, I’m just tired,” she scowled.

“Jesus Christ, Nat.” He watched her thin fingers tap restlessly against her thigh, a telling tic she was too weak to suppress. “Have you even eaten today?”

“Not hungry.”

“Bullshit. We’re getting food in you.” Clint pushed the button for the main floor, and they descended in tense silence. She closed her eyes again, ignoring the spots in her vision, focusing solely on keeping her breathing steady as another nightmare returned to rear its head. Memories of who she used to be, the torment she suffered at the hands of her superiors, the unspeakable crimes she’d committed. Mangled screams, her hands red and bloodied, endless lists of her victims, the names half-remembered at best.

He shoved her through the lobby, down the street, and in the closest door advertising food. It was a cheap pizza joint, one he frequented after missions, usually while intoxicated, but it was the quickest option at the moment. She opened her mouth to protest, to argue that her standard of living was above eating at dollar by-the-slice pizza places that were a far cry from anything resembling a restaurant, but was immediately met with a stern glare.

“Eat.” Clint shoved a paper plate into her hands, a greasy slice of pizza covering most of it. She grimaced and took a small bite, fully aware he wouldn’t let her leave until he’d decided she’d eaten enough. It had been a few months since they’d last gone through this routine, but his food choices had not improved.

“You couldn’t have taken me some place a little nicer? I though you knew how to show a girl a good time.”

“I’ll buy you a proper meal when you learn how to feed yourself. You know, most people gorge on junk food when they’re sleep deprived.”

“I’m much more familiar with fasting.” She set her crust down on the plate, unable to force herself to finish it. “Besides, caffeine is a wonderful appetite suppressant.”

“It’s also a stimulant that can prevent you from sleeping.”

“That’s not about the caffeine, and you know it,” she snapped.

“Then tell me about it! And don’t give me some bullshit about protecting me, I’m not falling for it. You need to work through what’s keeping you awake before it kills you.”

“What part of my hellish life isn’t coming back to haunt me?” she scoffed. “My past, present, potential future. It’s all fucked, Clint, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“You wanna bet?” He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Clinton Francis Barton, what the hell are you planning now?”

…

Later that night, Natasha sat staring at her book, gently stroking a very happy Liho who was curled up in her lap, anxiously waiting for Clint to arrive. He’d refused to tell her anything—claimed it was better if she didn’t know—and now he was late, despite the fact that he had set the time. The clock in her kitchen seemed louder than usual, the incessant ticking of the second hand stabbing at her aching head. She was moments away from breaking it when the doorbell rang. Clint was smiling, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Clint.”

“My stuff. I’m spending the night.”

“Like hell you are!” She started to close the door, but he braced himself against the doorframe and caught the edge.

“Hear me out, Nat. Please. You owe it to yourself to try.”

“Why on earth would you think this is a good idea?” Natasha crossed her arms, but she stepped back, allowing him into her safe house.

“You trust me—don’t even try to argue with me on that. Your unconscious mind is playing off your deepest fears, and you have no method of self-assurance that you’re not who you used to be. But if we trust each other enough to be openly vulnerable, how could you still be that girl? There’s also the added bonus of having an actual Avenger to protect you.”

“I hate you,” she laughed softly and smacked his arm, “but you have a point. One night, that’s it. And you’re sleeping on the floor.”

…

“Nat, please, I know you’re in there somewhere.” Clint was lying at her feet, bloodied, bruised, a blade pressed to the soft flesh beneath his jaw, the knife clutched in her hand. She scanned the room, taking in the lifeless forms of Steve, Sam, Nick. This was her body, but it was full of someone else’s idea of who she should be, the brainwashed identity pulled from the depths of her mind.

“Fallaces sunt rerum species,” she hissed. With an expert flick of her wrist, she severed his jugular and watched him bleed out.

“Nat? Nat!”

She woke in a cold sweat to find Clint, alive and well, shaking her shoulders. It was dark, but the panic was clear in the shadowed lines of his face, and, after a moment, she realized she’d been crying.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s over.” He laid down next to her and gently wiped her tears, his voice low and soothing.

“I—I killed you,” she whispered.

“Then I guess I’m the zombie now.” He grinned and instinctively flinched, expecting her to hit him.

“You’re an idiot.” Despite her best efforts, she smiled back and hoped he wouldn’t see. She cared far too much for this particular idiot, but letting that show was dangerous, a weakness she’d been trained not to let slip. But moments like these, when they were alone, allowed to be themselves, were treasured memories, the things she longed to dream about instead.

Natasha would never admit it, but Clint’s presence was comforting, so she let him stay in her bed. Curled up in his arms, her head resting on his chest, she let the steady rhythm of his heart lull her into the best sleep she’d had in weeks.

[shawnpetermuffins]

No Prior Engagement

(The outfits in the photo are not what's described in the story, but I liked the picture.)

A/n: To make this easier to write, I'm just going to use places that pertain to me - make it less confusing when I'm writing and while you're reading. You can find the "next part" in my March Mendes Madness Masterlist under 03.25

Summary: this is what happened before Shawn's minor slip up at an awards show.

***

My phone buzzes on my desk and I sigh, looking up from my study guide. 2:32 a.m. my phone read.

Bubba 💞

"Shawn, it's late. Are you okay?"

"Let's get married," he says out of the blue.

"What? Are you drunk?"

"No," he answers seriously. "I just don't want to wait anymore. Why should we have to? We're in love, right?"

"Well, yes. But-"

"I want to marry you. Right now. I want a house with you. I want kids with you. I want us to make grocery lists together. And I was just laying here in bed and I realized how much it fucking sucks falling asleep without you. And I know that I can't be anymore in love with you than I am right now. I want to marry you," he says and takes in a deep breath.

I didn't know what to think. We've talked about this, sure, but it always for when I got out of school.

"What do you say, pumpkin?"

"I want all of that, too," I start. "But I'm still in school. We can't let our first year and a half basically be long distance - even more so than usual, it would seem."

He sighs, "I thought you'd say that. Which is why I should tell you... I bought us a house in San Angelo. It's on the lake, like you've always told me you wanted. I'm ready to move down there with yoh if you tell me that you'll marry me."

My eyes burn with tears, maybe because it was so late and I was running on a total of three hours of sleep, or maybe it was because of the craziness of his request. "You're sure about this?" I take in a sputtery breath. "Like you really want to marry me? You want to spend the rest of your life with me of all people?"

"I do. And I already asked your dad. He wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of us doing this so young, but I promised it wouldn't interfere with your studies and that we'd stay here until you've graduated. He said that as long as you said yes, then so did he. So? What do you say, y/n? Will you marry me?"

I giggle - this time I know, for a fact, it's because of the absurdity of the situation. I'm talking to my boyfriend of three years at 2:30 in the morning, and he's asking me to marry him. I have an exam in two days that I should be studying for, but my guide sits abandoned on my desk while I pace the room back and forth. "This is absolutely insane. You know that right?"

"Is this your way of saying yes?" He asks, his voice hopeful.

I bite back the smile that transforms my face, "yes," I whisper.

His laugh is so soft and happy, and I blush because I made that laugh happen. "I'll make all the arrangements. Come Saturday afternoon, you will be my wife."

"Whoa. That fast?"

"Yes," I know he nodded on the other side. "I told you I didn't want to wait anymore. Now go get some sleep, you can study in the morning. Right now, though, I want my fiancé to be well rested."

I shake my head, "I love you," I say in pure bliss.

"Good night, future wife. I love you more."

"Good night, future husband. I love you most."

---

"You're sure you're okay with not having a huge wedding?" Shawn asked outside the courthouse.

I look down at my outfit, black shirt, cream skater like skirt - the bottom hem littered with flowers - And black stilettos that I was already ready to slip out of. I'd always imagined a big flowy white gown, but when I look over at Shawn - dressed in a white button up, a few buttons naturally undone, and signature black jeans and Chelsea boots. He looked perfectly content just like that and I couldn't ask for more. I didn't need the big fancy wedding as long as I had the man of my dreams standing next to me.

"I'm okay," I say finally, taking his hand in mine. "I just want to marry you already. I don't care how."

He caresses my knuckles and leans in to press a sweet kiss to my lips. I hum in acknowledgement and kiss back, placing my free hand behind his neck. "Then let's go do this."

---

Everyone we want it here. Our parents, siblings, Andrew, the band, my aunt and uncle, my two best friends, Josiah, and Brian. This is all I needed.

"Shawn, if you would..."

My beautiful boy clears his throat, "y/f/n y/m/n, I may not have known you my whole life, but it definitely feels as if I have. In these three years we've been together, I've watched you grow into this beautiful, confident young woman who I am so lucky to have by my side through my crazy, fast paced life." He clears his throat, shaking his head with a soft smile. "I never thought the day would come when I met someone who's soul matched mind. You're my other half, pumpkin. I know a million little things about you and I can't wait to learn a million more. I love you more than should be humanly possible. The way you do your nails every Sunday afternoon, like clockwork. How you scrunch up your face when you're annoyed. The way your laugh, when it's completely real, fills up a room with nothing but brightness."

I giggle through the threatening tears. Shawn wipes away the one straggler tear. "The way you'd probably rather do anything but watch Harry Potter for the hundredth time, but you sit through it anyway because you know it's my favorite. I'm just... I'm so in love with you and I want to spend the rest of my life proving that I am. You are my forever person and I wouldn't have it any other way."

He catches a couple more of my fallen tears and I melt at the soft gesture.

"Y/n?"

I take in a shuddery breath, "I don't know entirely what to say. I tried writing down how I felt about you a billion times. I tried writing these vows the second we got off the phone the other night. There are not enough words in the English language to tell you how I feel. But I know that my entire being is on fire with just the brush of your hand against mine. Shawn, I fell in love with you when all you were to me was an international pop star, who had no idea u even existed. I was about sixteen then. And then god put you in my path when I was seventeen and I haven't turned back since. When we met, I didn't meet Shawn Mendes: superstar. I just met Shawn: a regular guy just living his life. There was never this moment of celebrity to fan; it was instantly friend to friend."

He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear and I can't help but smile. "You make it entirely too easy to love you. And I do. More than anyone else in the world. I can't believe how lucky I was to find my other half at only seventeen, and to be standing here, three years later, completely giving myself to you. I love you more than you will ever know, bubba, and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

---

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

"Finally," Shawn mumbles, pulling me against his hard chest. His large hands rest on my cheeks and kisses me with so much love and passion. I laugh into the kiss and pull away. "You're my world, Mrs. Mendes," he whispers into my hair, holding me tight.

I bury my head into his chest, "I have never loved my name more than I do in this moment."

He hums, "I love you so much."

---

Shawn stands up, holding his wine glass. "I would like to propose a toast to my beautiful wife," he stops and smiles for a second. "Guys, I get to say that for the rest of my life. That's- wow, that's the greatest gift I could ever receive." The whole table awes, the women, of course placing their hands over their heart. "I just want to say that I am so lucky to have found you when I did. And even more lucky that you agreed to marry me. I fall more and more in love with you every day. Y/n, baby you are my biggest blessing, and I could not be more grateful for our time together. Now, let's go change your name to Mendes on everything."

We all laugh, but he I know he's serious. Bevause I've been thinking the same thing since I said 'I do.'

He leans down and pecks my lips gently. I hum and pull away as he sits back down. "You're the perfect human being," I whisper, taking his hand in mine. I bring it to my lips and smile at the single silver band that now decorates his left ring finger.

Brian stands next. "Well, I too would like to say a few kind words about the happy couple."

"Oh no," Shawn and I say in unison.

"Y/n, when you guys first met, I knew that Shawn had met his soul mate. It was undeniable, the chemistry between you two. Everyone thought you were moving too fast, and I hate to admit that for a second there, I thought so too. But then I realized, there was no other pace for you guys to go. And you couldn't be moving that fast, when it took six months for you guys to say 'I love you.'" I laugh at that. "Your relationship began at such an awkward time for the both of you. But you shoved any doubt that anyone had away and you powered through. And now here you are, three years down the road, married. I'm so proud to be able to call you both my best friends."

Everyone takes turns toasting us, and it's all beautiful, but I just really wanted to be alone with my husband.

A couple more hours pass before we're back in my car, Shawn takes my hand and just stares at it for a while.

"What are you doing, bubba?"

He looks up at my through cloudy eyes, "You're my wife," he says, barely above a whisper. "God, I'm so lucky."

"Shawn, are you crying?" I reach for his face with my free hand. His eyes are red as he stares at me. "Why are you crying, hon?"

"Because we're married. I'm married to the love of my life. I don't- I don't think I could ever be any happier than I am today. Today was better than any show I've ever played, any award I've ever won, and place I've ever been. Today is the absolute greatest day of my life."

***

I hope you enjoyed this fluff. Next and final part will be up on Wednesday!

Like, reblog, and leave feedback!!

[1heartsickfics]

Can you write something where Andrew had to stay awake to study so he did that by drinking soda but he wasn’t paying attention to how much he was drinking and ends up really nauseous and bloated and he really needs to burp but he can’t so he needs belly rubs but he’s having that problem where his skin is really irritated to the touch since he doesn’t feel good so Zayn has to help him some how. I love your writing btw I’m sorry no ones been sending stuff to you lately.

Andrew glanced at the clock, taking another swig of his second dr. pepper that night. Two A.M. Great. He still didn’t feel ready for his test tomorrow, but his eyes were having trouble focusing and his stomach was starting to hurt, so he figured it was time to throw in the towel. 

Sighing, he flipped through the remaining pages of notes he should go through. Five pages left. Maybe he’ll power through one more tonight and then do the rest in the morning while he eats breakfast. Yeah, that sounds good, he could do one more page.

He downed the rest of his can of pop before hunching back over the desk to begin reading his notes in an attempt to absorb them. He felt his stomach gurgle, placing a hand over it as it let out an unhappy noise. Man he really shouldn’t have drank all of that soda.

But he powered through, finishing that last page just as the clock turned to 2:20. He scooted his chair back, standing up to head to bed, when he realized just how badly he’d messed up. He shuddered as the back of his legs brushed the chair, his skin feeling hypersensitive. Andrew placed a hand over his stomach, gasping at how bloated he felt. His stomach was sticking out over the waistband of his gym shorts.

He pushed into his stomach with one hand gently, feeling like he needed to burp, but he hissed instantly as the t-shirt he was wearing came into contact with his skin. His face scrunched up in discomfort at how aware he was now of the way his clothes felt on his skin. 

Andrew felt tears coming to his eyes, he felt really bad. His mouth was starting to water as his stomach churned ominously. Was he actually going to throw up? He needed Zayn. 

He walked slowly back to their bedroom, one hand hovering over his stomach, the other scrunched into a fist and pressed against his lips. He winced every time his feet touched the floor, a new sensation to send his brain into overdrive. It was everything he had now to break down and start crying. 

“Zayn,” he called softly, pushing open the door. 

“Wha?” his boyfriend answered sleepily?

“Z-zayn, I-” he cut himself off with a sob followed by a sharp inhale.

“Woah hey sweetie what’s wrong?” Zayn asked, scrambling out of bed and moving to stand next to his boyfriend. He attempted to offer comfort by placing a hand on Andrew’s waist, but he groaned and twisted away from his hand.

“Oh shit, okay, sorry Drew, I won’t touch anymore I promise,” he said. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“Had to s-study. So I-I drank some pop. And now m-my tu-ummy hurts,” he cried pitifully.

“Okay, come here, I’ve got you,” Zayn said, leading Andrew over to their bed by the pinkie. “Sit down and we’ll get these clothes off okay? It’ll just be uncomfy for a second,” he explained. Andrew nodded tearily.

Zayn grabbed the hem of Andrew’s shirt and quickly pulled it over his head, wincing at the noise of discomfort his boyfriend made. He then looped his fingers over the waistband of Andrew’s shorts and pulled them off as fast as he could. 

��There we go, better?” he asked.

Andrew shrugged. His tummy really hurt. He knew that he was full of air from the soda and needed to burp, but nothing was coming up on its own and he couldn’t very well rub it like he did for Zayn when he was sick. 

“Are you gonna throw up?” Zayn asked, seeing the open mouthed look on Andrew’s face.

“Dunno,” he shrugged. “Feel nauseous but I think I just need to burp,” he continued. 

“Oh,” Zayn said, then “Ohhh,” as he realized the difficulty with the situation. 

“Wish you could rub my tummy,” Andrew pouted, eyes closing tightly shut as his stomach cramped, his hands clenching and unclenching. 

“Yeah, I know love, um, let’s see. Well usually you’d just lay on your back right? And try not to touch anything. What if you laid on your stomach instead. It would be the same amount of contact but then you’d have some pressure on your stomach,” Zayn suggested. 

“Sheets are too rough. Stomach’s more sensitive,” he said shortly, feeling worse and worse by the minute. 

“What if I take off my shirt and you lay on me?” Zayn asked. 

Andrew thought for a minute, before finally deciding that anything was better than how he was feeling at the moment. He nodded, closing his eyes and groaning again.

Zayn quickly stripped off his shirt and shorts, then helped his boyfriend maneuver himself up onto his knees at the foot of the bed. He climbed onto the bed himself, laying on top of the sheets flat on his back. 

“Okay, come here sweetheart,” he said, holding his arms out for Andrew.

Andrew leaned forwards, cringing as his knees dug into the mattress. Zayn caught him by the waist and gently helped lower him down onto his body. It was still too much for Andrew’s skin to handle, so he squirmed around, groaning and crying softly into Zayn’s shoulders as he tried not to move. 

“Shh, just try to take some deep breaths,” he said, as he felt Andrew settle against him, his tummy pressing up against his own. 

After a few moments, Andrew let out a small burp, whining and squirming on top of Zayn. A minute later he let out a much longer one, relieving some of the bloated feeling in his stomach. This continued until he felt well enough to calm down, falling asleep right on top of Zayn, his stomach still upset and his skin still sensitive. Hopefully he felt well enough in the morning to go take the stupid test that had gotten him in this situation in the first place.