#this is a whole 1600 words long

[atomicradiogirl]

Son of a Coma Guy: Unconditional Love is Cutting Your Heart Out

Son of a Coma Guy is leading up to the climax of the Tritter arc of House season 3, only two episodes before Finding Judas, where Wilson betrays House and makes a deal with Tritter, an action that ultimately dissolves their relationship until Season 4. The episode starts with a unique structure, with no patient cold open. Just House having lunch with two patients in comas. Wilson barges in and yells at House for “forcing him to lie to the police” that House didn't steal Wilson’s prescription pad and forge his Vicodin prescriptions. This is all in the first minute of the episode, setting up the intricacies of House and Wilson’s relationship that will soon get pushed in the later events of the season. 

Wilson is characterized as a person who is selfless, giving, loves to be needed, and will do anything in his power to help people he cares about, especially House. House does something that should rightfully break this friendship: put Wilson’s career on the line and possibly send himself to prison. Wilson is mad at House for only thinking about himself and putting himself in jeopardy. Wilson isn’t mad at House for using him and his kindness. House always does this. Wilson likes being used. In reality, Wilson is scared for House, not himself. He lied to Tritter to protect House. House didn't force Wilson to lie for him. Wilson did it anyway. The ultimate act of loyalty and care, the ultimate sacrifice. This is all read between the lines, of course, and this important revelation in the opening of the episode sets up the actions and importance of Son of a Coma Guy. 

We are then introduced to the titular Son of a Coma Guy, Kyle Wozniak, who has a seizure when House induces one. Kyle discusses his medical history and his family history. He says that his dad never liked his mother’s side of the family, and he was raised by a guardian. He only visits his father, who is in a coma. House wakes up his comatose father, Gabriel Wozniak. The last thing he remembers is the fire that killed his wife, something that is revealed to have been caused by Kyle later in the episode. House and Wilson discuss Gabriel. House argues, “Maybe he just doesn’t like his son. The delusion that fathering a child installs a permanent geyser of unconditional love.” Wilson interjects with, “Maybe your father’s feelings were conditional. Not everyone-” House cuts him off, “Yes, of course, that would play into your romantic vision of-” Wilson says, “In terms you would understand, we have an evolutionary incentive to sacrifice for our offspring. Our tribe, our friends. Keep them safe.” To which House replies, “Except for all the people who don’t. Everything is conditional. You just can’t always anticipate the conditions.” Wilson’s argument here mirrors his actions at the start of the episode, sacrificing himself and keeping House safe from the consequences of his actions, even if he deserves them. House says that maybe Gabriel’s relationship with Kyle is conditional, that love and sacrifice can never be unconditional. Referencing his abusive relationship with his father and his perception of love. That it always has to have a catch. This is really important in understand House and Wilson as characters, and especially in their relationship. Wilson views love as being programmed, an innate thing you’re evolutionarily destined to have. House views love as something you earn, something you get, something that has conditions. Wilson might have a romantic vision of love, but his love life is just as unhealthy as House’s. Constantly putting people’s needs in front of his own, sacrificing himself for House, which is left unnoticed and unappreciated by House. Someone who views this sacrifice as conditional when, in reality, it isn’t. This is the dichotomy of House and Wilson. 

House fulfills Gabriel’s last-day request of getting a sandwich and needs Wilson’s car for a road trip to Atlantic City. Wilson of course, lets him have it but decides to come with them. House keeps questioning Gabriel so Gabriel makes a deal with him that for every question House asks, Gabriel asks him one too. Gabriel asks House if he’s ever been in love, House says yes. Says that they met when she shot him in paintball, talking about Stacy. Gabriel asks if House has ever loved anyone else and House deflects saying, “no more questions” but Wilson is of course in the car with them. House doesn’t want to admit that he 1. Either loves Wilson or 2. Is capable of loving Wilson since this would prove his conditional love theory, that he loves Wilson only because he selflessly gives House what he needs. 

In the hotel in Atlantic City, Wilson asks House why he used his pad, not Cameron’s Foreman's or Chase’s. Wilson says that it’s because his association with House is voluntary. That he chooses to be close to him. “Any relationship that involves choice you have to see how far you can push before it breaks. And one day our friendship will break and that’ll just prove your theory that relationships are conditional and you don’t need human connection or deserve it or whatever goes on in that rat maze of your brain.” House deflects this, of course. Incapable of being truly honest about his feelings at this stage. House, throughout the show has a deep insecurity about deserving love, deserving to live, and deserving to be happy. Wilson’s unconditional loyalty to him pushes against this. Yes, there are moments when their relationship wavers but it never truly fully breaks. He always comes back to House and in the end, he relies on House. House is all Wilson has, and Wilson is all House has. Son of a Coma Guy is the first proof that House can bend Wilson and his relationship and Wilson will bend with him. Their social contract of push and pull. Bending but never fully breaking. 

House questions Gabriel about his family history, eventually determining the illness that is inherited throughout their family. Gabriel asks House why he became a doctor, and he decides to be honest with him. Saying that when his father was stationed in Japan he went to one of the hospitals as a kid and he was inspired by a doctor, a buraku, one of Japan’s untouchables. Someone whose ancestors were slaughterers and gravediggers, he wasn’t accepted by his staff, but they needed him because he was right so nothing else mattered. Gabriel is asked about the fire that killed his wife, and he explains that Kyle when he was 12, knocked over the kindling which started the fire. He didn’t blame him because he was just a child and it was an accident. Gabriel isn’t with him because he blames himself for failing to keep his family safe. He couldn’t stop the fire and save his wife. He doesn’t want to see his son die too. This goes into Wilson’s evolutionary love argument. Gabriel loves his family so much that he can’t bear to lose them, to fail to protect them.

Gabriel decides to perform the ultimate sacrifice, to give Kyle his heart to save him. House decides to go along with it, telling Gabriel how to kill himself so that the heart can be saved, by hanging. Before he aids Gabriel, he asks Wilson to leave the room. Wilson says no, but House says, “You’ve lied to the cops enough for me. Maybe I don’t want to push this until it breaks.” To which Wilson leaves, accepting that House appreciates his sacrifice and is willing to put himself on the line for someone else. Something that House rarely does. Gabriel asks House if he could hear one thing from his father what would it be? To which House says “I’d want him to say You were right. You did the right thing.” What this is truly about we don’t know and never really find out but House’s abusive relationship with his father isn’t truly revealed until One Day One Room a few episodes later, which puts new context to this line. House has to kill a father who loves his son so much, even though he accidentally caused the death of his wife, that he is willing to sacrifice his heart for him. Gabriel unconditionally loves his son, but House’s father’s love was conditional. This is what Wilson argued previously. Gabriel is willing to sacrifice his heart, (do I have to mention Wilson’s Heart) also mirrors Wilson’s sacrifice at the beginning of the episode. Both Gabriel and Wilson prove their unconditional love. Wilson wordlessly sets up House’s alibi for him and they wait together for Gabriel to die. When Gabriel’s heart saves Kyle, Kyle asks House for any message from his father, something to give him closure. House tells him what he wishes his father would have told him. “Right about what? What does that mean?” Kyle asks. “How would I know? He’s your dad,” House tells him and leaves.

“You know what I learned about this case?” House asks Wilson at the end of the episode. “That it proved that people can love unconditionally and you can tell yourself it’s not true, but you’ll just end up in a hotel room in Atlantic City asking someone to cut your heart out?” Wilson says. 

Son of a Coma Guy is an episode about unconditional love and sacrifice. Gabriel and Wilson are the givers, those who sacrifice their hearts (literally and not literally) for the people they love. Kyle and House are the takers. Those who don’t think they deserve the love they receive but are forced to take it. Kyle, to live, House for growth. I adore this episode and it is a prime highlight of House and Wilson’s relationship and the peak of House’s writing.

[bby-deerling]

she's out of my life (law x reader)

part of my 1600 follower event (ignore that i've been putting this off forever, i've rewritten this like 4 times)! prompt is: so i've learned, that love's not possession, and i've learned, that love won't wait, now i've learned, that love needs expression, but i've learned too late

cw: hurt/comfort, angst, night terrors, angst with a happy ending, law is bad with emotions

tagging: @willowbelle @sanjisjuul @eelnoise @sanjisprincesswifey @ragethebunny @kaizokuniichan @mirillua @cloudzoro @risenwrites @atanukileaf

wc: 655 masterlist || commissions

So determined to keep you safe by not fully opening his heart and mind to you, Law hadn’t even realized he was losing you.

He hadn’t been hurting you consciously, and didn’t put the pieces fully together until you cornered him and released a floodgate of emotions that had been steadily creeping up on you for months.  You had a laundry list of complaints—none of them completely unwarranted.  Despite the way he would often fume with jealousy at the slightest hint of provocation, he kept you at arm’s length, unable to open up in the way that you had for him.  He was a vampire, feeding from you, doing nothing but take as he ignored the tears in your eyes that begged for something, anything in return.

You were done—you’d made up your mind before the conversation had even started, and there was nothing he could do or say to change your mind.

He grabs your wrist as you move to leave, and a swell of hope floods his chest as you turn around, only for it to be snuffed out as your hand smacks him brutally hard across the face.  A mixture of pain and tingles from the aftershock spread through his cheek and make him unbearably dizzy as his ears ring unbearably loud; his legs weaken not long after, collapsing under the weight of his own mistakes.

The burning slap across his face dampens into soft taps across his cheeks, and the metaphorical weight on his chest feels so much more tangible as his vision goes fuzzy and fades to black.  Far away mumbles of his name sprinkled in between soft pleas for him to wake up become clearer as his mind rolls around in his skull, disoriented and deep in shock.  The sweet sound of your voice coaxes him back into lucidity, though the sight of you hovering over him, thighs on either side of his torso and your worried gaze locked onto his stormy, glazed over eyes does little to soothe his racing heart.  Chapped lips press roughly against his cheek as the palm of your hand cups his face; many nights on both your parts had been spent comforting each other after being trapped in the throes of a night terror, but they always revolved around the past—for the first time, Law is terrified of the future.  Scared of his lack of verbal reassurance to you coming back to bite him, of his inability to express how much he cares about you having the potential to push you away, and of the unspoken secrets he keeps close to his chest driving him apart from you.

Ignorant to the overwhelming swirling of emotions coursing through his veins, you nuzzle into the crook of his neck and lazily press sleepy kisses along seam connecting his neck to his collarbone. “I love you, Law.” you whisper softly into his skin.  He can feel the strings of your heart tug bittersweetly as the words leave your mouth, making his heart twinge with guilt as the contents of his nightmare flood his mind once more. 

Each night before bed, you murmur those words to him with such devotion and care, and with full knowledge they wouldn’t be returned, and yet still, hope hangs on the tip of your tongue and remains unaddressed—you simply tuck the unpleasant lack of reciprocation away, press a kiss to his forehead and tangle your limbs with his.

Each night you give yourself to him whole, only to get chewed up and spit out.

It’s not sustainable, and he knows it.

So determined to not lose you, Law swallows the lump in his throat and whispers, “Me too—so much.”  He isn’t quite able to get the words out just yet, but the starry look in your eyes as you push yourself up to meet his gaze with a bright smile tells him it’s more than enough for now.

[jordyn14]

Hey

Can you please write a Joe x wife reader where Joe and reader have been trying to get pregnant for a while and then reader finds out their pregnant and tells Joe in a cute way and he can’t contain his happiness

Pairing: Joe Burrow x fem first person

Words: 1600

Notes: since it’s my bday week and I’m having so much fun writing, I’m trying to get out fics a little faster this week! :)) thanks for the Request. <3

My eyes filled with tears as soon as I flipped over the pregnancy test and saw those two blue lines on the ClearBlue test. For 7 whole months Joe and I have been trying to get pregnant. We started after our wedding, hoping to see those two blue lines within two weeks, but two weeks turned into a month, and one into seven. Every single time we flipped over that test and saw one line and not two, we tried our best to stay positive, but it was hard. There were so many tears and I felt like we should just give up. I didn’t know how many more times I could take Joe’s same speech over and over again about how no matter how long it took, we would have our little family one day.

But now I was pregnant. I didn’t have to look into Joe’s eyes and tell him we weren’t pregnant for the millionth time. I didn’t have to stare into Joe’s blue eyes while he tried to hold back tears of sadness and watch as the hope was slowly draining from him.

As I looked up at myself in the mirror, tears rolled down my face and onto the counter under me. I was going to be a mom. It felt surreal to look at my stomach and realize that there was a little growing baby inside. I put my shaking hand over my mouth and I couldn’t stop looking at those 2 blue lines and at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t believe it. I felt like I was on top of the world and thinking about telling Joe in just a couple of hours when he came home from practice overjoyed me. “I’m pregnant.” I told myself, not able to contain my excitement.

For the next two hours, time seemed to be going so slow. Every time I looked at my phone and expected a half an hour to pass, only ten minutes passed. I was restless. I wanted to tell Joe so badly. I wanted to see the look on his face when he realized he was going to be a dad in just nine months. Not only were we going to be parents together, but I would get to raise a child with the most amazing man ever who isn’t just easy on the eyes, but is an incredibly person inside and out.

When I finally got the text from Joe saying he was on his way home, I practically sprinted upstairs and to my nightstand drawer where I kept a little mini Joe Burrow jersey and laid that down on the bed with the test on it. From the moment we started trying to get pregnant, I knew that I wanted to surprise him with his little jersey for our little son or daughter to wear when they’re born.

I sat on the bed and tried to pick through my different emotions. I was nervous, anxious, happy, worried, but mostly excited. Excited to be a mom. Excited to start our little family. From the moment I fell in love with Joe, I knew I wanted to create a family with him and now that was becoming a reality. Before we knew it, we’d have a little mini Burrow running around the house acting like a fool, and I couldn’t wait. Hey, maybe I was even carrying twins.

Before I knew it, I heard the front door swing open and just like clockwork, Joe said, “I’m home.” As soon as he said this, I couldn’t hold back the tears and started to cry some more. I just couldn’t contain the excitement. “Jordyn?” Joe called out, sounding a little worried, wondering why I wasn’t running over to give him a hug and ask him how his day was like usual. I wiped off a tear and sniffled back the tears a little bit. “Up here.” I answered him and stood up to meet him by the door. As I walked to the door frame, I could hear Joes footsteps getting closer and closer. My heart beat so incredibly fast in my chest and I couldn’t stop smiling.

As soon as Joe came into view and saw me crying, he dropped the bag that he was holding immediately. “hey, hey, are you okay?” He asked me and wrapped my in his arms. One hand was placed around my waist, pulling me closer to him, and the other was placed on the back of my head. With a smile, I wrapped my arms around his neck, running my fingers through his hair he decided to grow out for the season. “Everything is more than okay, Joey.” I said. Once I said this, Joe pulled back to look me in the eyes and once he did, I noticed the slightly confused look on his face.

Leaning forwards, I placed a small kiss on joes lips and then let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding in. “Go look on the bed.” I said. Joe looked past me and at the bed and noticed something laying on it, but I could tell he was still confused. Dropping my arms from around Joes neck, he slowly let go of me as well and walked closer to the bed. I followed after him, waiting for him to realize that he was going to be a dad.

A small gasp left Joe’s lips as the realization that I was pregnant set in. I couldn’t help but smile as he reached down and grabbed the pregnancy test. After a few seconds, I walked to the side of him and watched as he ran his fingers over the mini jersey while holding the pregnancy test in his other hand. As I studied Joe’s face, I started to get nervous. There was almost no emotion or expression on his face. What if he changed his mind about kids? What if he didn’t want me to be pregnant right now.

Before I started to freak myself out more, Joe looked over at me with those gorgeous, tear filled blue eyes. “Oh wow.” Joe said simply as his bottom lip began to quiver slightly. I sucked in a breath at his reaction and started to cry more myself. Joe put his hand on his chest and took a step back, taking everything in. He kept looking at me, then the pregnancy test, me, then the pregnancy test. “I’m going to be a dad?” Joe asked me excitedly. “You’re going to be a dad.” I said, wiping off a tear that streamed down my cheek. The both of us started crying more as he closed the distance between us and wrapped his arms around me. Without me expecting it, he picked me up off of the ground gently and spun around in a circle, a little excited laugh leaving his mouth. I giggled while up in the air before he placed me back down on the ground.

Once down on the ground, we both held each other so incredibly tightly, so overwhelmed with the news. I buried my head in Joe’s chest and I could tell he was crying quietly. Unlike every other time we flipped the test over, they were happy and relieved tears. After so long of trying and feeling like nothing would work, he was finally going to be a dad. “I can’t believe this,” Joe said and pulled his head back, revealing his red eyes and nose, “our little baby’s in here right now.” He said, letting out a deep breath while looking down at my stomach.

It was hard for me to talk because of the tears. I opened my mouth to say something, but I knew if I tried to talk I would cry harder. With a smile, Joe took his hands off of me for a second and swiped his thumbs under my eyes to catch the tears before holding my face gently in his hands. He nodded with a small smile, letting me know he understood what I wanted to say. Letting go of Joe, I did the same thing and swiped under his eyes, getting a laugh out of both of us before gently grabbing his wrists, the both of us just gazing into each other’s eyes. I took a deep breath and let it out with a small laugh.

“We’re gonna be parent’s, Joey. Can you believe it?” I asked him. Joe just shook his head and looked back at the pregnancy test. “No. No, not really.” He chuckled and sniffled a little. “At least we know why you were sick this morning before I left for practice.” Joe said. “I totally thought it was those crab legs, they looked a little bit odd.” I giggled. Joe laughed and nodded. “They did look a bit funky didn’t they?” As we looked into each others eyes, Joe looked at me like I was the most beautiful, fragile, perfect women on the entire planet before closing the distance and placing a kiss on my lips. When we pulled away, we rested our foreheads together while making eye contact. “I love you…and our baby,” Joe said and looked down at my stomach, “more than anything in the entire universe.” Joe said. “Even SpongeBob?” I joked with him. “Yes, even SpongeBob.” Joe laughed and nodded. “Well in that case, I love you…and this baby,” I said and glanced down at my stomach like Joe did, “more than anything in the entire universe as well Joseph Lee Burrow.” I said.

[cobaltperun]

Woe out the Storm (5) - Beast

Wednesday Addams x female Reader

Summary: It took some time, but eventually you came to realize only Wednesday Addams could look at the raging storm of chaos and destruction and make a home out of it. Only she could listen to the cacophony of the roaring thunder and hear a melody.

Story warnings: Wednesday Addams, violence, slow burn

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

Word count: 3.6k

-I'm not hiding from this, I’m fighting with this beast inside-

Somehow Weems figured assigning you to Weathervane, of all the places she could have assigned you to. You would have been fine with anything, but no, you had to work with Galpin and Weems could keep an eye on you. If she asked for coffee and you had the chance to make it for her you'd make sure to put salt instead of sugar.

"No luck with my assignment. I got Weathervane. What did you get?" you glanced over Wednesday's shoulder. "Uriah's Heap? You know, I actually think you'd like it if you didn't need The Pilgrim World," before Wednesday could respond Enid ran up to the two of you with a wide grin on her face.

"I got Pilgrim World!" she exclaimed, shaking you slightly from her excitement. "I do have natural people skills and a love for performing, so kind of an obvi choice!"

"Great, trade with me so I can trade with Wednesday. Unless you want Uriah's Heap," you grinned, offering your assignment paper to Enid.

"Ewww, no!" Enid glanced at your assignment and seemed to think it over. "Weathervane is fine, but what are you two up to?" she winked at you and you couldn't help but frown, remembering how Enid decided that you had a crush on Wednesday. That was probably what won her over and convinced her to trade with you.

"I need to get into Pilgrim World," Wednesday explained as you and Enid traded assignments, and then her and you traded as well. She looked pleased, or as pleased as Wednesday could be, that things were going her way.

"Anyway, I'm off to make sure you," you pointed a finger at Enid as you took several steps back. "Get a chance with Ajax," you grinned at her enthusiastic squeal and a quick hug.

"You're the best, Y/N!" she exclaimed.

~X~

If you had to say one thing about Uriah's Heap it would be that it was certainly more welcoming to outcasts than most places in the town. Also, you got lucky. Ajax got Uriah's Heap, Xavier got Weathervane and convincing Ajax he didn't want to get electrocuted in case of a storm was easy. Xavier was fine with anything as long as he got to avoid Galpin.

"You're not going to blow this whole place up if there's a storm, right?" Xavier asked as the two of you dusted the shelves,

You paused, smirking. "Scared, Thorpe?"

"Can you blame me?" he asked with the tiniest hint of teasing in his voice. "There's no where to hide here."

You rolled your eyes at that, but before you could respond the bell rang and both of you looked to the doors to see Wednesday walking in. She looked around, her eyes finally zeroing in on you.

"Wednesday!" Xavier's face immediately lit up. "I thought you were supposed to be at Pilgrim World?"

"I deserted it while my sanity was still intact," she said dismissively and pulled out a map as she approached you. "The old meeting house, the one from 1600s, do you know where it is?"

You nodded. "Cobham Woods," you pointed a finger at the spot on the map. "Right around here," frankly, you were annoyed you didn't remember it when you recognized Crackstone.

"Come on, I need to check it out," she was already turning around to leave.

You grinned, grabbing your back off the floor and going after her.

"Wait, what about the storm?! You could hurt Wednesday if it starts while you're outside!" Xavier went outside after the two of you.

Wednesday was the one to stop and address him. "I have no reason to fear a bit of lightning," she stated.

Xavier lifted is hands up in surrender. "Sorry, sorry, I'm just trying to help you!"

"Go back inside and make sure Weems doesn't realize Y/N isn't there if you want to help," she didn't even wait for his answer. She just turned around once again and left.

The moment the two of you were out of Xavier's sight you sped up a bit and while walking a bit ahead of her turned to look at her. "A bit of lightning? Really? I can't decide whether to prove you wrong or be thankful for what you said," you shook your head, genuinely offended by her words.

"Prove me wrong," she didn't even blink, just sped up her pace.

~X~

When the two of you reached what was left of the old meeting house it didn't take being a raiju to know you had to hurry. The sky was clouded, and while you were sure it was exactly the way Wednesday preferred it, you were worried about the upcoming rain.

"I'll check around, maybe there was something around here other than the meeting house," you said, after all, Wednesday could take care of any potential danger that was inside the decrepit house. She just nodded so the two of you split apart, her heading into the house and you going around it.

You weren't even sure what you were expecting. It's been almost four hundred years, if there was anything around the house to begin with it was gone. Well, with that monster lurking around it wasn't the worst idea to check the immediate surroundings. Still, you didn't find anything aside from occasional fast food paper bag. You heard commotion and saw a man running away. Well, at least Wednesday was having more fun than you were.

"I'd rather dye my hair pick than ask my mother for help," you heard her say when you slipped inside the meeting house.

"Why not both?" you offered with a grin as you looked around. "No luck?"

You ignored the daggers she was glaring into the side of your skull. Knowing Wednesday it probably wasn't daggers, but some massive drill turning your brain into mush...

"No. There's nothing here," she sighed.

Thing scratched at one of the fallen wooden pillars.

"Oh, you want me to prove it to you?" she touched a pillar. "No," she went over to the wall to her right and placed both of her palms on it. "Nothing," she said.

You had to turn your head to the side to hide a small smirk. She was being dramatic and it was quite possibly the best thing you have seen since coming to Nevermore. You'd have to get Thing a hand lotion or something just for this.

"Ah, I bet this will give us some real insight," she even faked a tiny bit of excitement as she lifted up a paper Taco bell bag and shook it, throwing her head back with a hum.

Forget possibly, Wednesday being unnecessarily dramatic and theatrical was the best thing you saw since coming to Nevermore. Period.

"My visions are about as predictable as shark attacks," she sighed, annoyed at wasting all this time.

You moved to the side, letting her go through the doors first, but as she touched the handle she froze, her head snapped back and she began falling.

"Wednesday!" you caught her before she hit the ground and looked at Thing. "Is this how she is during visions?" you asked. You never saw Wednesday have one, you wouldn't even know if Wednesday didn't explain why you were looking for that book Rowan had and how she knew what it looked like.

Thing signed a 'yes' and you lowered Wednesday to the ground. You weren't sure if she should be moved while she had these visions.

And then the first drop of rain fell on you. "Shit!" you cursed, getting back on your feet and stepping outside the meeting house. The rain immediately started pouring and as the lightning began flashing through the sky you knew you had to get further away. "Keep watching over Wednesday! I need to stay away from you two!" you yelled.

You only knew one thing as the rain soaked through your clothes. This wasn't going to end well for you.

~X~

The vision Wednesday was having was like no other she experienced, it wasn't a flash of the future or fragmented moments from the past. She was seeing the entire event that happened in the old meeting house. She saw the girl, who she now knew was named Goody Addams, be declared a witch and thrown into the meeting house by Joseph Crackstone. She saw the building being set on fire while dozens of outcasts were shackled to the floor. She was now seeing Goody trying to release her mother.

"There is no time, child. Leave me, save yourself! He's chained us all to the floor!" Goody's mother spoke as the outcasts cried, panicked as the heat became noticeable. It wouldn't be long before the flames engulfed the building.

"I shan't leave without you," Goody refused, still trying to free her mother.

"Run! Avenge us and save out future! Raiju!" Goody's mother cried out and Wednesday's eyes widened slightly. "Raiju, wake up! Take Goody away from here!"

Wednesday watched as Goody turned to the male near the middle of the group. He looked a bit older than Goody, with messy blonde hair, with a pained grunt he got up to his knees, his eyes turning blue.

"Diego!" the relief in Goody's voice seemed to be fleeting as she, and Wednesday along with her, realized he had a gaping wound in his chest.

With a battle cry, the lightning burnt through his shackles, leaving burns on his wrists and ankles but setting him free. Wednesday watched in awe as the man stumbled away from the outcasts, which also meant closer to Wednesday, and shifted in a burst of lightning, a blue wolf appearing where he was. The beast was huge, bigger than the biggest wolves Wednesday had ever seen. It was maybe four or five inches shorter than Wednesday, while on all fours. There was lightning emerging from its body, from the back, the legs, and the eyes, it truly looked as if the beast was made of lightning. But then the lightning faded and in a blink of an eye it tossed Goody onto its back and jumped through the roof.

The smoke engulfed Wednesday and she began coughing as the scenery around her changed. It looked more like a forest, but she couldn't tell because of the fog.

"He won't stop until he's killed us all!" Goody emerged from the fog, the wolf limping close behind her.

It began growling as it stepped behind Wednesday, clearly aware of something that was coming.

"He's here," Goody realized as Crackstone appeared.

"There will be no escape for you!" for the first time Wednesday felt fear as she looked into his eyes, and she stumbled back, falling to the ground.

"Use the raiju!" she heard Goody's voice as her vision came to an end.

Wednesday's eyes snapped open and she sat up, looking around for Thing and you. She saw Thing standing near her, but you weren't anywhere close to her. She could smell the burnt wood though. "Thing, Thing I saw her, the girl from my visions! Her name is Goody Addams and I believe she's my ancestor from 400 years ago," she then realized rain was falling and she got up. "Where's Y/N?" granted, she didn't know much about raiju, but she knew how they were in the rain.

Thing gestured outside and Wednesday quickly stepped out and saw you. You were breathing heavily, back against the tree trunk that was cracked open, red sparks crackling around you, and with a cry that sounded a lot like thunder, you zapped into a nearby tree, breaking it in two before you zapped back to where you were before. You landed on your knees and with a muffled groan leaned against the tree once again. Wednesday took her surroundings in. Almost all the trees near the ruined meeting house were either cracked or destroyed, and each one of them was smoking despite the heavy rain that was falling.

"Took you long enough," you gritted out, looking at Wednesday with fierce, red eyes.

On some level Wednesday knew you were strong. It was hard to imagine lightning not being strong, but she had to admit she underestimated just how strong you'd be. Guess she was proven wrong. And you weren't even in the actual lightning beast form.

She wanted to see it. The kind of destruction that could be caused if you weren't restraining yourself. She stepped closer to you, not for a moment worried about the lightning you were surrounded with. In fact, that lightning encouraged her to approach even further. She's never been struck by an actual lightning before, she wondered if it was different from the electric chair or electroshock therapy.

"What are you doing?!" you shouted, lightning that crackled around you intensified, but Wednesday still approached. "Wednesday, don't," you should have known by now she was too stubborn to listen to you. She was intrigued

"You said you wanted to prove me wrong," she taunted, aiming to get you to comply with her unspoken demand, but you zapped to one of the trees, even as out of control as you were, you managed to keep hold on the tree. It sizzled under your palms.

"Not like this," you groaned, pressing your forehead against the tree trunk.

Climbing after you would be a futile waste of effort. You'd just zap down. "Let's get going before Weems hangs both of us," she suggested. She could see you nodding and figured you would come down, instead you just zapped to a random tree in the direction of the town. For a moment Wednesday thought you were in control, but then you took a hard left turn, grunting as you hit the tree.

There was something else you were suppressing here, it wasn't just lightning. Sure, you were suppressing the lightning as well, you didn't want to harm her or Thing, but given what she saw in her vision, you were more than likely stopping the shift into the beast.

If she didn't want to see it and what it could do, she might even be tempted to compliment your self-control.

~X~

By the time you went back to Jericho, you couldn't do anything but sit in the crowd, not even paying attention to anything going on. Statue of Crackstone being revealed and then burning as Wednesday played her cello? You were barely aware of it. You wish you weren't like that, you really wanted to see how she did it.

Either way, you were back in your dorm and you just wanted to relax and read your comfort book for the night.

"Too much?" you heard Enid asking and glanced just for a moment before pulling the book up once again. You were glad Enid got her date with Ajax and you'd be a good roommate and hurt him if he ever hurt Enid, but you were staying out of any preparations Enid was having at the moment.

"Wednesday?" she turned to Wednesday now that she figured you weren't going to help.

Wednesday sighed. "I feel like you just napalmed me, Enid," there was no need to see Wednesday's expression, you knew she was done from just one glance at the colorful shirt in Enid's hands.

"So glad I have my date with Ajax tonight. Get my mind off that trainwreck of an afternoon. I literally think I have PTSD, I mean I didn't even get to do my dance routine!" Enid complained, mostly to Wednesday.

"What a tragedy," Wednesday said with so much sarcasm dripping from her voice you almost glanced to the floor to see if it was flooding the room.

"What kind of twisted psycho would want to sabotage such a life-affirming event," Enid asked no one in particular.

Wednesday stopped typing for a bit. "You're going to be late," she eventually said and went back to typing.

"Wish me luck!" Enid exclaimed.

"Good luck!" you pumped your fist up toward her.

"If he breaks your heart I'll nail-gun his," Wednesday said, causing you to nearly drop your book as Enid left the room.

"Aww, that's sweet, you do care!" the moment those words left your mouth you wondered if you had a death wish. The moment you couldn't hear the typewriter you instinctively lowered your book just enough to take a peek at your surroundings. It looked like everything was fine. Until you saw a glimmer of a blade slicing through the darkness and you yelped as the knife lodged itself into the wooden board right next to your head.

"Too bad, I missed you," Wednesday commented evenly.

"Wednesday, what the fuck?!" you cried out, your heart beating way too fast for your liking. Actually, that was wrong. Considering that knife nearly split your skull open you were liking the way your heart was beating very much. "How did you even throw the knife like that?!" it curved! Basically took a ninety-degree turn! "Where did you even keep it?!" actually that was probably a stupid question.

"Refrain from unnecessary assumptions," she actually sounded bored when she said it, as if she didn't just throw a knife at you.

"You don't have to tell me twice," you couldn't even hide beneath the covers, in case she had another brilliant idea.

Ten minutes later, when you were sure no other knives would come flying through the room, you slowly pulled the knife Wednesday threw at you out. It was beautiful, a black blade perfect for throwing in the dark, but the handle... It felt so good in your hand, easy to grip and wield, comfortable, and good for throwing, slicing, or stabbing. The edge of the blade had white wave-like patterns, and the handle had white lines running horizontally across it. Simple, but there was beauty in it.

Another ten minutes passed before Wednesday stopped typing and stood up, soon enough she entered your part of the room. You didn't pay much attention to that, the bathroom was connected to your part of the room. She didn't open the doors though, instead, she approached you and held her hand out.

You sat up and crossed your legs, carefully observing the open palm before grinning and giving Wednesday a low five before she could even register what just happened. The flabbergasted look on her face as she looked at her hand, as if offended by what just happened made everything, even the dangerous glint in her eyes as she looked you in the eyes, worth it.

"Hand over the knife," she seethed, but you were too far gone to back away and let her win this.

"Nope. You threw it at me. It's mine now," you couldn't wipe the grin off your face, even if you knew every second Wednesday spent looking at it might bring her closer to the point of no safe return. And you'd be paying for the ticket back. Probably in your blood, or something like that.

"Y/N," she warned, taking a step closer so her knees were touching your bed.

"It's my lucky knife now, back off," you clutched the knife to your chest.

Thing got between you two, trying to prevent any bloodshed from occurring.

"Thing, move," Wednesday ordered, glaring at you.

Thing refused, pleading for your life. You weren't sure whether to feel touched or like he was being overdramatic. Probably the combination.

"She won't hurt me, Thing," you declared boldly.

Wednesday's eyebrow twitched. "What makes you so sure of that?"

"I win if you do," getting her so riled up that she would actually attack you felt like a win in your book. After all, that would be like Wednesday admitting you got to her. Wednesday was proud, she answered violence with violence and words with words, not words with violence. She wouldn't attack you. Not really. Even the knife she threw was meant to miss you. You were still very impressed with her aim.

You could hear Wednesday gritting her teeth, but she didn't attack you. And then an idea came to your head. One that was even worse than keeping the knife. "Would you come to the dance with me?" you asked.

"What dance?" well, at least Wednesday didn't immediately shut that idea down.

"Rave'N, a school dance. Next weekend," you felt like you were pulling teeth with how difficult it was to say each word. "Come with me, Wednesday," somehow the words that should have been the hardest to say came out without a hitch.

Wednesday took a step back, and you were sure she would shut the idea down. "Why?"

"Why not?" to you it really was that simple. And as spontaneous as it was you didn't think there was anyone else you'd go with.

"What do I get out of it?" you could work with these questions.

"Not your knife back," you grinned at her annoyance. "A chance to irritate Weems and/or Thornhill by not matching the theme of the dance. An okay night with your favorite raiju. What more could you ask for?"

"You're the only raiju I know," she argued much to your amusement.

"Exactly! So, what do you say? Will you go to the dance with me?" you relaxed and leaned back against the wall. The worst Wednesday could say was no, right?

She remained silent, her gaze searching for any signs of deception or anything of that nature. "Fine," she didn't say anything else, she just turned around and went back to her part of the room.

You couldn't suppress the grin that was now on your face. You didn't even try to really, as you slipped under the covers and closed your eyes. You missed Wednesday glancing back at you, clearly more than a little puzzled by your behavior.

A/N: Nothing to say here, thanks for reading!

[abbeym28]

Carry Me Out

In which you and Satoru realize you don't know what to get Megumi for his birthday, and in which Satoru comes up with a simple way on how to know.

Third drabble, could be read stand alone again! Sorry this took so long to get out! Almost 2,000 words! This has been a work in progress for a while, and to be honest, I have no idea why I finished it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

Megumi’s birthday was coming up.

You’ve been there for two of his birthday’s, but this year, he was turning ten. Obviously, this was a very big deal for you and Satoru.

The problem you are facing is that when the two of you asked what he had wanted, Megumi just shrugged and told you that he wanted what he would normally get. (Which since being under the care of Satoru, was pretty much a mix of money, books, toys, candy, or other things Megumi was interested in. Sometimes he asks for things for his dogs, so treats, balls and chew toys will occasionally be added to the pile.)

So, a week before the day of your adopted son’s birth, you and Satoru held a private meeting between the two of you to brainstorm.

“I think he said he wanted monster high dolls. And some pokemon cards, as well as a disk copy of that latest Teenage Mutant Ninja turtle iteration. Also, a day spent looking at candy shops.” your ever-so-helpful boyfriend was lying down across the length of your shared bed.

You hit him with one of your pillows as you paced around, anxiously tapping a pen onto a notepad. “Satoru, those are all things you want.” you paused, thinking a bit for a little. “But actually, I will put monster high dolls down. I think I caught him staring at the Sweet 1600 Clawdeen the last time we went to Target.” You jotted a few notes and then looked back at Satoru.

His arms were settled behind his head and his eyes were closed, his sunglasses placed on his bedside table. Satoru still smiled as he confidently whispered, “See, I’m helpful.”

You rolled your eyes and groaned before you flopped down next to him, face first. Satoru began rubbing small circles onto your back and you turned your head to look at him. His blue eyes stared back into yours, which was slightly alarming and caught you way off guard.

“I know this is super important, but you should take it down a notch. It’s not good for your skin.” You sighed.

“Satoru, it's Megumi’s 10th birthday. Two digits! My skin doesn’t matter as much as him having a good birthday.” He pulled you closer to him and he pressed a kiss onto the top of your head.

“Okay, you know what? I’ll talk to him. Maybe, all he wants for his birthday is some quality time with daddy, the strongest sorcerer and man in the whole wor-”

Satoru wasn’t able to finish his sentence before a pillow hit him in the face and you were out of the room.

Satoru decided that the best way to get answers is to catch Megumi off guard.

So, he was going to do something he hadn't ever done before- pick him up from school. At first, he had left it up to Nanami to drive his kids around, but pretty soon it was you who took up that spot.

He had to admit, something about watching three of the people he loved most come crashing through his front door, all in a mess to shed off school related things just to get a snack quickly, warmed his heart up in way’s he figured would never be possible.

Satoru leaned onto his (expensive) car door, arms crossed in front of his chest, a smirk on his lips as he greeted other random parents who were also waiting for their kids.

The sun was beating down pretty bright onto his face, extra bright from the reflecting of the white snow all over the ground, so even with his sunglasses he almost missed the school doors opening. But, he did have his six eyes and multiple other powers that allowed him to doge the punch Megumi had thrown at his knees.

“Why are you here?” Megumi went in for another swig and a kick, but Satoru picked him up before he could. Megumi squirmed as his dad placed a wet kiss on his cheek.

“I’m here to pick you up! Aren’t you so happy?”

“Dad!!!”

“Tsumiki!!!”

Satoru placed down Megumi so he could sweep up his daughter, who was running right at him, matching huge smiles on both of their faces.

“What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“Everything is great, ‘Miki. Just figured you guys would want to see my face a little sooner than normal.”

Tsumiki giggled as Satoru pressed a bit more of a softer kiss onto her face.

“All right, let's get in the car and go home! Snacks are waiting for you.” He set Tsumiki down in the back seat, buckling her in and then patting her shoulder. Satoru shut the door and then jogged to the other side of the car where Megumi was struggling to reach the door handle and get in.

Satoru opened the door and smiled at him, but Megumi just scowled and climbed up, using all of his strength to get in the seat and buckle himself. The drive started quiet, the jolly holiday music softly playing from the stereo.

“So…. Megumi. Your birthday’s coming up, isn’t it? Is there something you would like?” Satoru looked at his son through the rearview mirror.

Megumi grumbled something, too low for even his sister to catch.

“What was that, oh sweetest child of mine?”

“I said I want you to disappear.” Tsumiki gasped and Satoru tutted as he made a turn, getting closer to home.

“How about you make a list! All of the things you want, all on one paper! It would make both of your parents very happy!” Satoru’s sing song voice made Megumi scoff.

“Megumi! That is such a good idea!” Tsumiki spoke excitedly.

Megumi turned towards her fast while a smile grew larger on the dads face.

“We can work on it together! I’ll help you! Oh my gosh, this will be so much fun!” Megumi’s expression soured.

This, he thought, would not be fun.

You were doing dishes when you heard the loud crashing that walked through your front door. Wiping your hands on a towel, you walked over to find your family struggling to take off your boyfriend's shoe, the left one.

Well , Tsumiki was trying to help.

Megumi was repeatedly hitting Satoru in the leg with his small light up sneakers.

“You have big fat feet! Get out of my way!” You couldn't help but giggle as Megumi yelled at Satoru.

“Gumi, there’s hot chocolate on the table for you. How ‘bout you leave your dad alone for now, hmm?” Megumi’s eyes brightened despite his continued grumbling as he left Satoru standing, still struggling to get his shoe off.

“Is there one for me too?” Tsumiki perked up, stars surrounding her as she asked you that.

“Of course!” She yelled a quick hooray before running after her younger brother. You moved closer to your boyfriend as a pout settled onto his face.

“How did you even get your shoe stuck on?” Kneeling down, you laughed at him as you tried to loosen the laces a bit, tugging on a few places to help widen the hole that still was hugging his ankle.

“They must be older than I thought.” Satoru shrugged. “Are they always more happy to see hot chocolate than they are to see me?”

There was a slight hint of jealousy and pettiness in his tone, making this even more hilarious for you.

“Hey, stop laughing! This is a really serious situation!” The shoe you were pulling on popped off, making you fall back a bit. Before you really could though, Satoru attached one of his hands to the area just between the middle of your back and your waist.

“Oh! You got my shoe off! Thanks hun!” He pressed a kiss onto your cheek and then tugged you up, keeping you in place in front of him, still in the doorway. “Anyway, I had a genius idea! Megumi’s going to make a birthday list!" There was a pause that was filled with silence.

"Tell me that I’m a genius please.”

You snorted as a response to his need to inflate his ego. “That is smart, good job Toru.” You put your hand on his cheek and he seemed to snuggle into your palm as a smug smile grew on his lips.

“Do the kids have paper? You should probably get some down for them.” Your brows furrowed as you moved away from him (killing the moment in the process) and towards the dining table where both your son and daughter were nursing their hot drink as they watched Sofia the First on the tv Satoru set up on a portion of the huge kitchen counter.

You pressed a soft kiss on both of the tops of their heads before getting some markers and then sitting down besides them.

“Honey! I got the paper!” Satoru came back over to you guys, pressing a wet and loud kiss onto you and Tsumiki’s cheeks before getting hit in the face by Megumi.

“Stay away from me, old man.” Satoru’s expression turned from ecstatic into despair as he sat down in the chair next to you, his head finding home on your shoulder as he and his son engaged in a glaring match.

“Still salty, huh? You literally have hot chocolate!”

“I don’t enjoy seeing your face right when I get out of school. Don’t you think you've extended your stay here?”

“This is my house! And I’m on vacation. You will be as well, so prepare to see me even more!” Megumi stuck out his tongue which caused Satoru to huf and to bury his face more into your collarbone.

“Are you sure he deserves a good birthday?” He muttered to you. You pushed him off of you (which was a bit of a struggle) and slid the papers and markers to be in front of Megumi. He gave you the cutest confused look you have ever seen.

“It’s for your wish list sweet boy. You can write whatever you want on there.” He nodded, a little bit of blush colored his cheeks.

You could almost also think that he was excited.

Megumi handed his list to you after you had tucked him in and read him his favorite children's book about dogs. He didn't say anything when he did, so you took it with a thank you and an I love you.

You settled into your own shared bed with Satoru after you had done all of your nightly routines. The lamp from your bed side table was alight when you decided to read your son's list.

“So? Are his demands doable?” Satoru slid into the sheets beside you and pulled himself closer to you, wrapping one of his arms around your waist in the process.

“Most of them are. He is really good at making lists, it turns out.” Satoru hummed as you continued to skim through Megumi’s scribble writing. It was the second to last one there that made you pause.

A day with my family doing fun stuff.

The words were drawn on slightly lighter than the other items on the list.

He spelt doing with a b.

All of the letters were closer together and looped, as if he didn’t actually want you to see what he had written.

All of those things melted your heart for some strange reason.

“Hmmm. That was cute of him.” Satoru cuts through your thinking with his slightly teasing words. “Oh. look at the last one!”

And so you did, only to find a less sweet wish, but still as cute as the one before it.

Replace Satoru with a dog.

[writingmysanity]

Did I miss it?

Pairing: Zoro x reader

Word count: 1600

TW: drinking, reader is tipsy for sure.

A/N: Happy Birthday, Lissie!! Okay, lets try this again. My computer crashed half way through what I was writing and I lost… everything. I know I asked you a tough question the other day, and you answered lol much to your own pain – so here you go. I truly hope you enjoy. Thank you so much for being my friend and enabling me in my deranged thoughts in our messages. You're such a kind soul, and such a good mum.

I hope you’re spending your free time re-watching the video from Taz and resting. Perhaps thirsting. @stray-kaz

A/N continued: this is the first time i am writing for Zoro, I am pretty sure he is ooc here. i claim being out of practice.

=========

Despite how the shouts and cheers of your crew mates seem to linger around you, their laughter resting in the gusts of wind, the night is quiet. Their words are whisked away without thought or care into the night, seeming to echo back from the depths of the bay as nothing more than whispers. Obsidian waves lap at the hull of the ship, rocking the ship slowly to the tune of what your mother called the whiskey lullaby.

Taking a deep breath, you melt into the side of the ship, sinking to your knees to rest against the railing, still cradling your own glass to your chest. Moonlight washes over the deck, casting the whole of everything you can see with a blue-ish hue. The sight never ceases to amaze you, a gentle smile resting on your lips as you take in your crew, littered about the open space in various rather uncomfortable positions that make you laugh.

If you were a little less drunk, you would move to try and help them shift into at least more comfortable positions. But as things stand currently, you find you are unable to stand properly when the ship and your vision continue to move. Slowly, you shift to face out towards the water, slotting your legs through the railings to allow them to dangle, resting your head against the wood with a sigh.

Celebrations aren’t uncommon for the straw hats, and you have come to even enjoy their rambunctious energy since you joined the ragtag group of pirates. You are certainly still learning to accept their willingness to celebrate you, they certainly have made you feel as part of their family, safe and accepted,but something is missing.

A certain head of moss colored hair.

Not two weeks prior, Luffy had sent his first mate off on a special retrieval mission. Zoro had been nervous to leave, knowing he wouldn’t be able to be there for his crew, but also the certainty that he wouldn’t be able to be there for you.

Normally, he would have already crowded you away in the crows nest or back in the kitchen hiding behind the island, finishing off the last of the liquor with you, his attention solely on you. Those dark eyes locked on your form beside him as he listened to you drunkenly ramble about whatever seemed to have caught your fancy that night. The thought of not getting to celebrate with him weighing heavier on your heart than you expected it to.

You have long since stopped trying to deny your feelings for the swordsman, and though unspoken, you know he feels the same – though neither of you have tried to push it further.

Sitting in silence, you let the rush of the waters below over take your senses, the distant push and pull dancing beneath your feet coupled with the distant cry of a sea bird lifting from the oceans surface. So engrossed in your thoughts and the siren call of the sea, you don’t hear the steps rushing up the plank of wood connecting the ship to the harbor, nor the gentle bumps of the body stumbling up onto the deck as they make their way to you. You don’t hear any of it, until his voice startles you from your reverie, the depths of your thoughts lingering on him more than you would ever admit to anyone else.

“Did I miss it?” his voice is slow, measured as you yank yourself around with a gasp, nearly throwing your glass at him in surprise. At this, he chuckles, slowly moving to kneel before you, careful of his swords and your hold on the cup as he tugs it from your hand.

“Zo…” he nods slowly, gaze softening in a way that you've learned is meant only for you. “You startled me.” you confess, the drunken tilt to your words making him frown slightly. You're out here, drunk, and the only one awake.

“I noticed,” he states calmly as he slides closer, sitting beside you, relaxing at the near awestruck look painting your face, eyes wide and glassy with emotions you've yet to speak on, lips parted. “I’m sorry I’m late.” he starts again. “Did I miss it?”

“I thought you weren’t meant to be back until next week,” you stumble out, reaching for him, completely ignoring his question. Or not hearing it. Chuckling, again, he lets you tug him closer, one hand resting on his arm, the other taking the opposite hand.

“I took larger steps,” he half jokes, running his thumb over your knuckles with a gentleness no one else would believe he is capable of, your laughter earning one of his rare smiles. “Now, please answer me this time, pretty girl.” he asks slowly, catching your attention as he rests his free hand on your cheek. Nodding slowly, your eyes lock with his, immediately lost in the depths of the blackened seas washing in his gaze.

“Did I miss it?” he asks again, gently emphasizing each word. At this, you frown slightly, looking up to the moon, as if trying to discern the time. Between your addled brain, and your excitement at seeing him again so soon, you shrug with a crooked grin that leaves him dizzy.

“I don’t know,” you state honestly. “we can say no,” you offer, eyes softening as you match his gaze again, able to see that this means something to him. Sighing in relief, his shoulders sag a bit before he moves away from you, earning a soft whine. His shoulders shake at the sound, eyeing you amused.

“patience, princess,” he chides, pulling a box from the bag at his side, setting it in your lap. Its not big, it can fit in the palm of your hand, but it is expertly wrapped, a beautiful bow resting on top. Frowning, you lift it to your face, shaking it.

“What is it?” you hum, tilting your head at it. He huffs a bit, amused. He has never dealt with you when drunk, at least, not without the both of you being drunk together.

“Open it and find out,” his normal measured voice laced with an amusement he would deny later. Beaming up at him, you nod, tugging the bow lightly, watching it fall away with ease before tugging at the corner of the beautiful silver paper that gleams in the moonlight. Inside is a small box. There is nothing too special about it, a simple smooth brown box. Humming in curiosity, you tug it open, peeking in as if something would jump out before the top fumbles off completely. Inside is a thin silver chain.

Frowning, you tug it up, watching in awe as the charm swings to the end.

At first, all you're able to discern is that the charm is a silver circle. Clumsily, you grab at it, wanting to look closer, oblivious to zoro’s anxious shifting beside you. On one side, there is a compass etched into it, careful practiced lines marking each direction with a small brilliant emerald resting in the center. You stare at it for a moment before realizing you can feel the same raised edges on the other side.

Flipping it slowly, your eyebrows furrow as you try to read it, scrawled in perfect cursive.

Lets get lost together

head whipping to him, your eyes are wide, gaping at him. He shifts slightly, moving away from the railing now, eyes flitting between you and the necklace.

“Do.. do you like it?” his voice is quiet, all of his insecurities and internal doubts swarming him as you sit there, staring. After a minute of tense silence, he shakes his head, jaw tense as he moves to stand. “I knew it was a bad idea” he sighs, moving to take the offending item from your grasp, but you refuse to let go.

“you mean it?” your voice almost whisked away by the wind its so soft. This is as close to a confession as hes ever gotten other than a drunken “I like your face” or one of his pet names you’ve come to adore. He pauses again, uncertainty resting clear in his eyes as he nods slowly.

“Yeah,” his voice is quiet, watching as your demeanor switches from quiet and contemplative to bright and excited – the brilliance he finds himself melting for. Quickly, you turn, scootching the best you can, drunk and sitting, to turn your back to him while holding the necklace up impatiently.

“Put it on me,” you nearly demand before pausing, looking at him pleadingly over your shoulder. “Please.” shaking his head at your antics, he takes it from your hand gently, slowly shifting to his knees to raise it over your head and around your neck from behind. Once its clasped, he tugs it loose, allowing it to rest over your shirt, his touch lingering on your neck as he leans down slowly to whisper in your ear, the sensation making you shiver.

“Happy birthday, Princess.”

======

happy birthday, my friend. It was super quick, but I really hope you enjoy it or at least get a chuckle out of it. I hope your day is the best.

[the-little-ewok]

The Little Spoon

Poe Dameron x G/N Reader

Rating: M

Wordcount : 1600 (ish)

Warnings : Fluff, mentions of getting caught during sex/heavy petting, rife with teasing innuendos, soft softness, spooning, brief mentions of food, Poe being an adorable menace.

Prompt / Summary : Burying your face in their neck, listening to their heartbeat, spooning at night. / After a difficult day you and Poe try something new in the bedroom.

A/N : Anon who sent me the prompts - i dont know if fluffy was what you really wanted but… i kinda went pretty fluffy cute with this. If you were hoping more for a NSFW request please send me an ask and i’ll do an alt fic for you :)

If you enjoy this fic please don't just hit the like button. Hit the reblog button and tell me your thoughts! Support your content creators with reblogs!

-------

"Stop!" You half whine, half laugh, burying your face in Poe's neck.

"I don't know if he'll ever be able to talk to you again without blushing!" Poe laughs, clearly finding the fact his newest squad member walking in on you both in a, well, compromising, position, hilariously funny, and your embarrassment even funnier.

Since then poor Leru had been unable to look at you without his cheeks lighting up red, and losing all ability to speak.

"Take it as a compliment it affected him so much," Poe shrugs, taking the whole situation in his stride, as usual. "You can't change what happened, and besides you can't hide out here forever."

'Here' was the grassy bank outside the, what now seemed all too small, base entrance. You had escaped out into the humid night air as soon as your shift was over, convinced everyone you encountered knew the story and was staring at you.

Of course, they already knew that you and Poe were close, but perhaps not quite how close. There had never really been time, during the middle of a war, to consider what you were. And now you were together, both of you wanted to enjoy it without too much fuss. At least while you settled into a new routine, and Poe to his new role as General. So really, getting carried away in what should have stayed an empty office, after Poe had returned from a long mission, was not the best of plans.

But oh, he had been so distractingly hot. The way he'd smiled, his eyes flickering up and down your body, the way he'd pulled you tight against his chest, the way his lips had brushed against your skin.

It was hard to regret what happened. But you did regret getting caught.

"I can stay here as long as I like," you challenge his statement, folding your arms.

"I could just order you back inside," he shrugs with a sigh, making out it would be a huge inconvenience for him to do that.

"You wouldn't dare!" You twist to glare at him in challenge, as Poe leans back to look at you, a serious expression creasing his brow. He slowly raises one eyebrow, before he finally gives in, bursting into laughter.

"No, you're right. I like continuing to live without a vibroblade in my chest, so I guess orders are off the table!" He pulls you back into his arms, holding you tight against him.

"How about I very politely request you come back inside? We can grab some food and get an early night?"

"I don't want to go to the canteen,” you mumble, picking at a loose thread on your trousers, unable to remove the idea that everyone would be judging you.

"You know, I don't think anyone else knows? And even if they did, firstly, it's not like they saw anything personally, just second hand, and secondly, if anyone says a damn word I'll have their ass hauled in front of me faster than they can blink!" Poe states passionately.

"That's sweet. But we agreed on no special treatment."

"Not special. I'd do that for anyone talking inappropriately about anyone. You get absolutely no special treatment. I've never given you any special treatment." Taking your chin he tilts your face towards him before he places a soft kiss against your lips.

"Hmm, so you offer that to everyone, do you?"

"Well, everyone is a little broad. More like a select group. You, Finn, Rey, Snap, BB, that really cute medic we met in Yavin," he shrugs with a teasing smile as you roll your eyes. “Now stop overthinking.”

Poe was right, you were over thinking, and as annoying as his teasing could be, you know it comes from a good place in his heart. He simply wants you to see that it's not all bad. Nothing you could do now would change anything that already happened. All you could do was, as Poe does, make the best of the situation.

Still, the embarrassment gnaws a little at your thoughts, though quieter, still there for now.

"Can we eat in your room?"

"Only if we are naked," Poe grins, making you dissolve into laughter.

"Stop that, right now!" You warn through giggles.

"I've been away for almost a month! I've been storing it all up. You are in for a lonnnnnng night, baby," he winks, and for a moment, you`re laughing so hard you forget anything had gone wrong at all today.

~

"I'm sorry," Poe offers later that night, his fingers trailing up and down your back as you lay in his bed, curled up against his side, his heartbeat drumming in your ear as you lean your head on his chest, half asleep.

You hum in question, wondering what he's talking about.

"Earlier. It was my fault we got caught like that. I should have waited. I was just excited to see you and being impulsive. I’ll try and keep my hands to myself for a little longer next time.”

You lean up on your elbow to look at him, frowning in confusion and feeling the tendrils of guilt in your own belly that he feels he's somehow to blame. The last thing you wanted was for Poe to feel he couldn't be his usual, affectionate self.

"There's nothing you need to apologise for. We were both willing participants. I was excited to see you too. You’ve no idea how much I missed you."

Poe's hand slides around the back of your neck, pulling you down to him as he mumbles, "I missed you too, baby," against your mouth before he kisses you.

When he finally lets you go, you have to take a moment, feeling a little giddy, whether with love or lack of oxygen, you aren't sure.

"Anyway, I like you being impulsive," you assure him with a soft smile.

"Then I rescind my apology," Poe chuckles as you snuggle back down against his side, trying to get comfy again.

Except now you have a problem. No matter where you place yourself, you can't quite get comfy enough to fall asleep. Something just feels wrong.

You let out a noise of annoyance, sitting up.

"Turn over," you instruct, laughing as Poe raises a questioning eyebrow, his lips upturning in a familiar grin.

"Is this going a sex thing? Because you know I can stay awake a little longer. I'm sure I can help tire you o-"

"Get your mind out of the gutter," You laugh, cutting him off and pressing your hands against his arm, trying to manually roll him over, onto his side.

"So it's not a sex thing? I'm disappointed," Poe sighs over dramatically, ignoring your pathetic attempts to move him.

"I want to cuddle you!" You explain with an exasperated sigh.

"Oh, that's what we are calling it these days? Okay, well, we can 'cuddle' as much as you like," he grins, eyes crinkling with amusement as he makes air quotes at you. You make a show of dramatically rolling your eyes in response.

"No, Poe! I mean I want to hold you!"

"Hold which bit?" He wiggles his eyebrows as you try and bite back your laughter. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, telling yourself you are grateful he's home and he just needs to get this out of his system.

When you open them again you fix him with a stern look.

"Alright, alright!" Poe holds his hands up in surrender, clearly deciding he might be pushing too far now. "You want me to be the little spoon?" He asks, obviously having known exactly what you wanted from the first time you asked.

"I want you to be the little spoon." You nod in confirmation. Poe's expression softens from teasing into something that makes your chest ache with love. It's as though the seriousness of the last few years of war drop away, and the boy Poe used to be, stares at you with hopeless adoration.

"I like that idea better," he says simply, before he rolls over with his back to face you. "But I'm still open to the sex thing." He adds, making you snort as you try to contain your laughter, knowing it will only encourage him.

Once Poe is settled, you curl up behind him, wrapping an arm over his chest, tucking your legs in behind his, cuddling up close to him as you press your face between his shoulder blades.

"Don't think I've ever been the little spoon before. I like it," Poe sighs contentedly, his hands resting over yours wrapped around his chest, holding you in place.

You smile and press a soft kiss to his back, "I like it too."

A near silence settles over you both, the only sound in the room your steady breathing as you hold each other. You can feel your eyes finally starting to drift shut, but you also know Poe is not asleep yet, as his fingers continue to gently caress your arm, almost distractedly.

“What are you thinking, Flyboy?” You mumble sleepily against his skin, not wanting to fall asleep if he has something on his mind.

"I was just wondering," he mumbles quietly, “if you think Leru is thinking about us right now?"

"Go to sleep!" You sigh against his back, feeling him shake with barely contained laughter.

"I definitely think he enjoyed it a little bit."

"Sleep!" You hiss, refusing to play into his teasing again.

There's a moment of silence, one in which you think that he's given up with the teasing and finally decided to get some rest. That is until -

"Do you think he wants to join us sometime?"

"POE!"

You can't help but smile as his laughter fills the room. Insufferable, infuriating, pain in the ass. You had missed him, so very much.

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

Please support this by reblogging if you enjoyed it! I live for comments on your thoughts and remember the only way to keep writers writing, is to reblog their work and tell them what you think of it!

[hi-itsanniemarie]

Rating: Fluffy PG-13 (Heavy making out, suggestive touching, language) Pairing: Bella x Reader (referred as "You") Word Count: 1600 A/N: Bella & reader are both 18+ and She/Her pronouns are used {Luckily you found Bella on the same page, both of you didn’t want it to end. You knew what you felt for each other, that what you had was the stuff poets spent their whole lives searching for. You would do the long distance. Schedules and plans had to be made which gave you something to look forward to but also made you watch the clock, count the minutes...the seconds. Tick. Tick.Tick}.

The journey from the car to the front door seemed to take forever, but not as long as your day had been. Stressful client calls, shortages of staff and to top it all off, a major heat wave that basically made you want to put ice cubes under your skin. The only thing that kept you going at this point was the fact that there was a bottle of wine and a phone call from her waiting for you just beyond the front door.

The nightly calls were welcomed with such anticipation, just hearing her voice, no matter how far away, would make your heart swell. The reality of just how much you longed to be in her arms, the safety, reassurance and love she kept for you there, made hanging up harder each time.

Her schedule had been grueling lately, between long shoots and press tours it had been weeks since you had seen each other and that fact seemed to weigh your feet down with each step you took.

After what felt like miles, you turned the key, unlocked the door and smiled as you walked past the photo one of the crew had taken of you both. It was from the last night of your internship, the last night before you had to move back home, half a world away.

You had met during your first week and by the end of the month, you had become inseparable. You were only allotted 6 months on location and that time had just flown by. Having the “what happens now” conversation was one that you had been dreading, you didn’t want anything to change, but you knew that it ultimately had too.

Luckily you found Bella on the same page, both of you didn’t want it to end. You knew what you felt for each other, that what you had was the stuff poets spent their whole lives searching for. You would do the long distance. Schedules and plans had to be made which gave you something to look forward to but also made you watch the clock, count the minutes...the seconds. Tick. Tick.Tick.

You walked into the kitchen and peeked into the fridge. Nothing to eat, as usual. You shook your head, you were so bad at being an adult sometimes. As you went into the bedroom to change, you glanced at the corner and saw the suitcase you had taken with you for your internship. You knew that after six months of being back, you should unpack, but something silly inside you didn’t want too. You didn’t want the memories to be shut away, for it to seem like none of it actually happened. Weird, but it was how you processed not having her around.

Baggy shorts, a tank top and one large glass of wine later, you plugged your phone in, hoping that she would have hours to talk. You planned on telling her all about your work day, how this job was not what it used to be, that you needed something new, some place where you were appreciated. She would say something sweet and encouraging and you would be able to perfectly see her smile just from the slight tone of her voice. You would ask her all about filming and where she was traveling to next, what ridiculous things had happened on set and if she would have any days off soon.

And then there it was.

The exciting yet nerve racking buzzing that had dictated your relationship for weeks on end. The very thing you had been waiting for suddenly had you paralyzed with fear. You took a deep breath, answered it and was immediately relaxed as soon as you heard her voice,

“Hey babe! How are you?”

Talking to Bella was always such a transcendent experience. She had this undeniable magnetism when she spoke, fully engaging you as if you were curled up next to her. As if there weren’t thousands of miles between you, your lives slid back together, perfectly aligned and all your doubts and insecurities washed away. You could tell she was talking with her hands, she always did when she was excited or nervous and trying to get her thoughts out.

Eventually the decision to not eat dinner beforehand was made obvious when your stomach growled loud enough for her to hear through the phone.

“You know, this is why I can’t leave you alone.” Bella teased, that beautiful smile most certainly creeping across her face.

“Tonight would be the perfect night for ice cream wouldn’t it?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.” you joked back, “Between this insane heat wave and you being here it would get so hot and sticky….”

You were expecting to hear her cheeky giggle on the other end, she always did enjoy it when I attempted to be sexy with her, but there was nothing, just a slight silence. That anxious feeling of doubt began to work its way back into your brain. Bella had sounded somewhat distracted during your conversation earlier, maybe the distance was becoming just too much of an inconvenience. You didn't want to think like this, you couldn't think like this.

You didn't realize how long you had been lost in thought until there were a quick succession of knocks on the front door that brought you out of your head and back to reality.

“Uhhh babe? You there? It sounds like there is someone at the door and it would be rude not to answer.”

"Ahhh It's so late though and I'm too comfortable to bother getting up," you laughed softy into the phone.

"Oh just get it babe, who knows, it could be life changing," There was a slight coyness to her voice and you couldn’t stop your heart from skipping a couple beats with curiosity.

"Ok ok, fine, I'm getting up! To be honest that ice cream you mentioned before would definitely be life changing right now and would make getting off the couch worth it, so, fingers crossed that's whats knocking."

You glanced at the thermostat on your way to the door and let out a heavy ugh, could this night get any hotter? You peeked through the window fully prepared to be bombarded by an annoying solicitor but ended up throwing the door wide open instead. Bella was there, standing on your front step looking beautiful and adorable all at the same time.

“Yay, it's me! ... Am I just as good as the ice cream would have been?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?!"

Without even thinking, your body immediately took over and within two seconds you jumped in her arms and wrapped your legs around her waist just trying to get as close as you could.

She swiftly lowered you down from around her waist and pinned you against the hallway wall. The intensity of her action caused your kiss to break, however, Bella, not missing a beat, immediately found her way over to your neck.

“God, I’ve missed you, babe.” Bella whispered as she slowly made her way back up to your lips, her breath hot and her voice hoarse with desire.

“Ok...this is so….much better...then...talking…on the phone...” your words tumbled out in a breathless staccato only being able to speak when Bella stopped to reposition her lips on yours. 

"Trust me...it's going to get better..." you could feel her smile on her face.

It was probably the fact that your bodies were tightly entwined but the urge to be even closer to each other was quickly taking over. Bella strengthened her movements and pushed you against the opposite wall. Her hands made their way down your hips as you shifted one leg to the other side of Bella's. You let out a muffled moan and slowly began to grind your body against her and she followed your lead and relished in the pleasurable friction.

Bella knew exactly what she was doing and her plan continued as she nibbled down to your stomach, making sure to plant soft kisses on your hip bone. You let out a quiet breathy moan and tucked your hands on Bella's jawline, dragging her back up to your lips. She tasted exactly like cinnamon with a sweet after taste of bergamot and you were utterly addicted. It was something so familiar yet so new and exciting and she was simply intoxicating.

You grasped the top of her jeans. Fuck. Why did it always have to be those jeans, she knew what those jeans did to you. You firmly pulled her against your body which caused her to brace herself on the wall with her hand and excited smile broke out on her face, loving the fact that I had been a bit forceful.

Completely under your spell, Bella moved her hand under your shirt, savoring the soft curves of your body She was definitely confident with what he was doing and you felt yourself wanting to succumb to her energy as you began to play with her zipper. You needed to feel her skin on yours so this time she began to pursue what was underneath her shirt making sure to focus right above the waistline of her jeans. The touch of your fingertips only contributed to Bella's rapid undoing

“Fuck. You’re so bloody gorgeous...I--” You grabbed the collar of her shirt and hushed her the only way that seemed to work, taking particular care of her lower lip. You had spent the last few months just talking and now you just wanted all of her physical attention. Bella seemed to get the hint and the two of you melted effortlessly back into each other.

Before you knew it Bella grabbed your wrists and began walking back towards the bedroom still peppering you with kisses in between adorably naughty smiles.

"I’ve never been so happy to answer my door before…."

[ironwoman359]

i saw your tag about how in 500 years we WON'T be calling britney spears' "toxic" classical music, and i am willing and able to hear this rant if you so wish to expand upon it :3c

You know what, it's been over six months, so sure, why not, let's pick today to have this rant/lesson!

To establish my credentials for those unfamiliar Hi my name's Taylor I was a music teacher up until last year when the crushing realities of the American Education SystemTM led me to quit classroom work and become a library clerk instead. But said music teaching means that I have 4+ years of professional classical training in performance and education, and while I'm by no means a historian, I know my way around the history of (european) music.

So, now that you know that I'm not just some rando, but a musical rando, let me tell you why we won't be calling Britney Spears or [insert modern musician(s) that'd be especially humorous to today's audience to call classical] "classical music."

The simple answer is that "Old music =/= Classical music," which is usually the joke being made when you see this joke in the first place.

As funny as this joke can be when executed well (this is one of my favorite versions of said joke, especially since this is a future world where there's very little accurate surviving info about the culture from the 21st century), there is VERY little likely of this actually being how music from today is referred to in the future, because, again, music being OLD does not automatically make music CLASSICAL.

If you'd indulge me a moment, have a look at these three pieces from the early 1900s, which is now over 100 years ago. That's pretty old! You don't have to listen to the whole of all of them if you don't want to, but give each around 30 seconds or so of listening.

All three pieces are over 100 years old, but would you call "In the Shade of the Old Apple Tree" classical? Or "The Entertainer?" Most likely not. You'd probably call these songs "old timey" and you may even be savvy enough to call "The Entertainer" by it's actual genre name, ragtime. But if either of these songs came on the radio, you wouldn't really call them classical, would you? They're just old.

Whereas Mahler's Symphony No. 5, now that sounds like classical music to you, doesn't it? It's got trumpets, violins, a conductor, it's being played by a philharmonic! That's a classical musicy word!

The short answer of why we in the real, nonfictional world won't be calling Britney Spears's "Toxic" classical music in 100 years is it simply doesn't sound like classical music.

.....and the long answer is that Mahler's Symphony No. 5 isn't actually classical either.

See, music, just like everything in culture from dress to art to architecture changed with the times, and therefore 'classical music' is technically (although not colloquially) only one of about four to five musical periods/styles you're likely to hear on one of those "classical music tunes to study to" playlists.

Our dear friend Mahler up there was not a classical composer, he was a composer of the late romantic era.

So now, because I have you hostage in my post (just kidding please don't scroll away I had a lot of fun writing this but it took me nearly 3 hours) I'm going to show you the difference between Classical music and the other musical eras.

These are the movements we'll be dealing with, along with the general dates that define them (remembering of course that history is complicated and the Baroque Period didn't magically begin on January 1st, 1600, or end the moment Bach died) :

The Baroque Period (1600-1750)

The Classical Period (1750-1820)

The Romantic Period (1820-1910)

The Impressionist Movement (1890-1920)

You'll notice that as time goes on, the periods themselves grow shorter, and there starts to become some overlap in the late 19th to early 20th century. The world was moving faster, changing faster, and music and art began changing faster as well. Around the beginning of the 20th century music historians quit assigning One Major style to an entire era of history and just started studying those movements themselves, especially since around the 20th century we were getting much more experimentation and unique ideas being explored in the mainstream.

Even the end of the classical to the beginning of the romantic period can get kind of fuzzy, with Beethoven, arguably one of the most famous classical (and yes he was actually classical) composers in history toeing the line between classical and romantic in his later years. The final movement of his 9th symphony, known as Ode to Joy, far more resembles a romantic work than a classical one.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

To oversimplify somewhat, here are the main characteristics of said movements:

The Baroque Period (1600-1750)

Music was very technical and heavily ornamented. This coincided with a very "fancy" style of dress and decoration (the rococo style became popular towards the latter half of this period). The orchestras were far smaller than we are used to seeing in concert halls today, and many instruments we consider essential would not have been present, such as the french horn, a substantial percussion section, or even the piano*. Notable composers include Vivaldi (of the Four Seasons fame), Handel (of the Messiah fame) and Bach:

*the piano as we know it today, initially called the pianoforte due to its ability to play both softly (piano) and loudly (forte) in contrast to the harpsichord, which could only play at one dynamic level, was actually invented around 1700, but didn't initially gain popularity until much later. This Bach Concerto would have traditionally been played on a harpsichord rather than a piano, but the piano really does have such a far greater expressive ability that unless a group is going for Historical Accuracy, you'll usually see a piano used in performances of baroque work today.

The Classical Period (1750-1820)

In the classical period, music became more "ordered," not just metaphorically but literally. The music was carefully structured, phrases balanced evenly in a sort of call and response manner. Think of twinkle twinkle little star's extremely balanced phrasing, itself a tune that Mozart took and applied 12 classical variations to, cementing it in popularity. And speaking of twinkle twinkle, memorable melody became more important to the composition than ornamentation, and many of our most universally known melodies in the west come from this period. The orchestra also grew bigger, adding more players of all kinds as now we didn't have to worry about overpowering the single-volume harpsichord, and additional instruments like more brass and woodwinds were added. Notable composers include Haydn (of The Surprise Symphony fame) Beethoven (of, well, Fame), and Mozart:

Pay attention to the size of the orchestra here, then go back to the Bach concerto. Notice how in that very typical Baroque setting, the orchestra sits at maybe 20 people, and that here in a Classical setting, there's nearly two times that!

The Romantic Period (1820-1910)

In the romantic period, it was all about BIG FEELINGS, MAN. It was about the DRAMA. Orchestras got even bigger than before, the music focused less on balance and became more dramatic, and there was a big focus on emotions, individualism, and nationalism. Discerning listeners will notice a lot of similarities between romantic symphonies and modern film scores; John Williams in particular is very clearly influenced by this era, any time I'd play the famous Ride of the Valkyries by Wagner in a class, the kids would remark that it sounds like it should be in Star Wars. A lot of romantic composers were German, including Beethoven, if you want to call his later works romantic (which I and many others argue you can, again, compare Ode to Joy to one of his earlier works and you can hear and see the difference), but you also have the Hungarian Liszt (of the Hungarian Rhapsodies fame), the Russian Tchaikovsky (of the Nutcracker and 1812 Overture fame), and the Czech Dvořák:

See how this orchestra is even bigger still? Modern orchestras tend to vary in size depending on what pieces they are playing, but the standard is much closer to this large, romantic size, and it's far less typical to see a small, intimate Baroque setting unless specifically attending a Baroque focused concert. Also I know I embedded Dvořák because Symphony From a New World slaps but please also listen to Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody No.2 it's one of my all time favorite pieces and NOT just because of the Tom and Jerry cartoon, alright? Alright.

The Impressionist Movement (1890-1920)

A bit after it began but definitely still during the romantic period, a counter movement began in France that turned away from the emotional excess of romanticism and focused less on standard chord progression and explored more unconventional scales. This music was less worried about how it 'should' sound and was more concerned with evoking a certain emotion or image, giving you an "impression" of an idea. Debussy is by far the most well known name in this movement, even though he personally hated the term 'impressionism,' lol.

Notice the way the periods build on each other naturally, literally, physically builds on the orchestras that came before, evolving in style and structure until you get to the late 19th and early 20th century when things were built up so big that a response to that excess started to develop, first in the impressionist movement, and then into 20th century music in general, which got much more experimental and, as we say, "weird." (frickin 12 tone scales, man)* *i do not actually dislike the sound of 12 tone, it's interesting and unique, but it is HELL to analyze in music theory, which is unfortunately when a lot of us classical musicians are first introduced to it, therefore tarnishing our relationship to the genre as we cannot separate it from our own undergrad anguish

Even if you're not a super active listener and you have a harder time discerning the difference between, say, late baroque and early classical, you cannot deny that the first piece I've linked by Bach and the last piece I've linked by Debussy sound completely different. They're both orchestral pieces (I intentionally chose all orchestral pieces as my examples here, getting into solo works, opera, and chamber ensembles would take too long), but other than that, they couldn't be more different.

Wait, so what are we talking about again?

Classical Music is first a period of music, a specific artistic movement with music typically written in Europe between 1750 and 1820 with a specific sound that is distinct from these other styles I've outlined here.

And Classical Music is second a genre. Because while academically and historically Baroque music is not classical, and Romantic music is not classical...colloquially it is. They sound similar enough that it makes sense to put them on the same playlists, the same radio stations, the same 'beats to study to' youtube compilation videos. While individuals may have favorites and preferences, it's not far fetched to say that if you like listening to one of these styles, you'll at least like one of the others.

But whether you're being broad and referring to our modern idea of the classical genre, or you're being pedantic like me and referring to a specific period of musical history (or modern compositions emulating that style, because yeah, modern compositions of all of theses styles do exist), I think we can all agree that, as much as it slaps, "Toxic" by Britney Spears is not classical music, and 500 years is unlikely to change our perspective of that.

A Traditional Ballad though?

Yeah, I can see us calling it that in 5 billion years.

(the full version of this scene is age restricted for some reason, but you can watch it here)

Anyway, thanks for reading y'all, have a good one!

[gerrystamour]

i am thick tar on the inside burning

Rated G | Steddie Week Day 6: True | 1600 Words | Complete

Related to run it back (give me five whole minutes)

[ READ ON AO3 ]

“Y’being mean t’my boyfriend again?” Steve jumped at the sleepy voice mumbling against the back of his neck, shivering as Eddie kissed him there gently. “Wasn’t saying anything,” Steve deflected instead of trying to lie. “Didn’t hafta,” Eddie chuckled, tugging Steve until he rolled over and faced him. “You got all tense when you woke up, then tried to sneak away.” This is my entry for @steddie-week Day 6: True & Misunderstandings Basically, @patchworkgargoyle mentioned possibly added a convo about Steve's negative self-talk into run it back and I felt like a convo at that point would've been more than Steve could handle at the time, but I def wanted to write a convo, especially after seeing the tags of some of my fellow RSD sufferers. So here! A fic with one of the best coping mechanisms I've learned for RSD!

Steve slowly woke up with Eddie spooned up against his back, long arms around him tight. It was so nice that it took Steve’s mind several moments to catch up and remember what happened last night.

“Hey! Don’t talk about my boyfriend like that.”

The memories of Eddie walking in on him like that had embarrassment flooding through Steve, his ears burning with the heat of it. Yeah, Eddie was comforting last night, and yes Eddie was gentle and perfect, but again Steve was the one to be comforted and taken care of. Eddie did all the emotional labour and hadn’t he been through enough ? Couldn’t someone just take care of him for once? After all Eddie overcame, he had to be saddled with a boyfriend who couldn’t even handle one bad day at work?

The thoughts were spiraling, just as they always did when left to his own devices, but he was determined to stop them before Eddie woke up. Normally, he would mutter to himself, shame himself into knocking it off the way his father would. Sometimes, even smack himself a bit to get it to sink the fuck in . But he couldn’t do that with Eddie against him so tightly.

Maybe he could slip away from Eddie, go downstairs to start on breakfast and deal with the swirling thoughts there? It was worth a shot, so Steve carefully tried to sneak out from under Eddie’s arm, only for the man to murmur in his sleep and somehow tighten his arm around Steve.

Steve suppressed a frustrated sigh, closing his eyes and counting backward from one hundred to try to calm himself down. It was something a guidance counselor had once told him to do when he felt his anger or frustration mounting, except Steve struggled with counting backward like that, which often caused more frustration. But it was a different frustration than whatever was bothering him, so it did kind of loop around to being helpful.

“Y’being mean t’my boyfriend again?”

Steve jumped at the sleepy voice mumbling against the back of his neck, shivering as Eddie kissed him there gently.

“Wasn’t saying anything,” Steve deflected instead of trying to lie.

“Didn’t hafta,” Eddie chuckled, tugging Steve until he rolled over and faced him. “You got all tense when you woke up, then tried to sneak away.”

A hot blush overtook Steve’s face as he glanced away. “How long’ve you been awake?” he asked guiltily.

“Been kinda drifting for a couple hours,” Eddie said, reaching up to stroke Steve’s cheek gently. “Do you talk to yourself like that a lot, Stevie?”

Steve refused to look at Eddie as he shrugged. “I mean, I guess. It’s not like I’m saying anything people aren’t already thinking,” he said, his mouth twisting. “Or will think, eventually.”

“If I ever decide you’re the worst boyfriend, you will absolutely hear about it because I will say so,” Eddie said firmly. “Which is not going to even happen anyway , because you’re the furthest thing from a bad boyfriend, let alone the worst . I mean, dragging my half-dead corpse out of Hell is worth like, a billion Best Boyfriend Ever points.”

“That’s not how shit works , Eddie,” Steve said explosively, and when he moved to roll onto his back and Eddie tried to stop him, he said firmly, “Eds, I can’t have this conversation like this. I’m not trying to leave; I just need a bit of space.”

Immediately, Eddie relaxed his arms. “Sorry, Steve,” he said quietly, and guilt swarmed in Steve’s head.

“No, you’re okay, you didn’t do anything wrong, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t do that , Stevie. You need space, you can have it,” Eddie insisted, retreating from Steve a bit, but keeping his hand resting on his waist.

Steve sighed and rolled onto his back, idly playing with Eddie’s fingers where they were now splayed across his stomach. “You can say I have all these points for being a good boyfriend, but the bad shit will always take more points than I can gain,” Steve said, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“That’s—ugh, Steve, the ‘good boyfriend’ points pool is entirely separate from any other pool. You can’t lose those. But I’m done with this metaphor because you’re focusing on the wrong shit,” Eddie said with some frustration and Steve cringed. “Don’t take that like a criticism of you, babe, because it wasn’t.”

“How was that not a criticism of me ?” Steve asked angrily, hurt by Eddie’s words and how it felt as though Eddie was trying to redefine how words worked entirely.

“Okay, listen,” Eddie said, sitting up to look down at Steve and crossing his legs. “I used to say mean shit to myself all the time, still sometimes do, and a lot of times I justify it as me just ‘saying what everyone was thinking,’ too, okay?”

Steve blinked up at Eddie, confused and frowning. “I thought you didn’t care what anyone else thought about you,” he said after a bit, trying to reconcile what he was hearing with the Eddie he had come to know.

“Oh, Stevie, I was full of shit with that whole shtick in high school. I cared very much about what everyone thought back then, I just worked really hard to make it seem like I didn’t,” Eddie confessed with a laugh. “By my third senior year, I was closer to not caring but still. I did. A lot.”

“How do you stop, though?” Steve asked and Eddie sighed, shrugging.

“I just think about what the person actually said,” he said, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“I already do that , Eds,” he huffed, looking away.

“No, you think about what they meant , not what they said ,” Eddie said, turning Steve’s face toward him again with a finger on his chin.

“It’s the same thing,” Steve bit out, again feeling frustration building at Eddie just deciding that words didn’t mean what they meant .

“Okay, I said ‘you’re focusing on the wrong shit’ which I will concede, the swearing was maybe too much, sue me, I swear. How did you take that?” Eddie asked.

“That I’m wrong, that I can’t even pay attention to what you’re saying. That I’m stupid, slow,” Steve said in a rush, forcing himself to hold Eddie’s gaze.

Eddie’s expression turned so sad that Steve regretted saying anything. “Okay, now repeat what I actually said ,” Eddie instructed.

“That I was focusing on the wrong shit,” Steve said flatly, still not seeing the point of the exercise.

“Did I say you were stupid? Or slow?” Eddie asked, and Steve shook his head lightly. “Did I say you were wrong, and that you couldn’t focus on what I was saying?”

Steve opened his mouth to argue that Eddie had said that but when he turned the sentence over in his head, he realized that Eddie hadn’t. Yes, those words were used, but not in the order necessary for Steve’s understanding to be correct.

“I was just stating a fact. I tried to comfort you with a joke and got you caught up in a metaphor. That’s it, baby, it wasn’t me criticizing you,” Eddie said emphatically.

“But most of the time people do mean it like that,” Steve insisted, and Eddie nodded.

“Yeah, probably, but that’s not your problem,” he said with a shrug. “If they’re not going to be up front about it, fuck’em.”

“It’s not that simple, Eds!” Steve insisted, covering his face with both hands.

“Okay, listen, I’ve never had to describe how I shut my brain up when it’s being annoying, so give me a second,” Eddie said with a determined huff. When Steve looked at him again, Eddie was thinking hard and obviously hamming it up a bit, propping his chin on his fist while he hummed.

When Steve laughed lightly, Eddie looked down at him again with a tight-lipped grin.

“Okay, so, when someone says something to me and I immediately start beating myself up about it, I stop and think about the actual words and if I said that to someone I cared about, how would I mean it?” Eddie eventually said.

“I would mean exactly what I said,” Steve supplied, understanding starting to break through.

“Exactly. And every time my brain tries to insist it’s a mind-reader, I just keep repeating the actual words. Ignore the tone, think about the words until the brain stops,” Eddie said, shrugging. “It takes a lot of work, but I call myself stupid a lot less and that’s a bonus.”

Steve blinked up at him, turning the words over in his head. “That’s genius, Eds,” Steve said softly before frowning. “But what about when the people do mean it?”

“Honestly, babe, fuck those people,” Eddie said with a shrug. “You can’t control what they think, so what’s the point making yourself sick over it? And still, unless you’re a mind-reader or they admit to it, you’re still just assuming.”

Steve smiled up at Eddie. “You make that sound so easy,” he said after a minute and Eddie tilted his head.

“Just have more practice working on it. Like I said, I still deal with this shit, and sometimes I still slip up, but it gets easier,” Eddie said, then he sprawled out on top of Steve with a wide grin. “But I promise, right here and now, that I will only ever mean exactly what I say when I say it to you, okay, Stevie? No matter my tone, no matter my face, the words out of my mouth are the full message.”

“Nothing between the lines?” Steve asked, his voice almost a whisper as he stared up at Eddie in awe.

“Why would I do that when I can just as easily say what I mean?” Eddie replied, kissing the tip of Steve’s nose.

“Okay,” Steve said, then took a deep breath. “And I promise I’ll try your way of dealing with this stuff, too.”

“Good,” Eddie said with a happy sound. “Now, gimme a kiss.”

“Your breath is rancid, Eds—”

“So is yours! Gimme kisses!”

“ Fine … Love you.”

“Love you, too, Stevie.”

[AO3 LINK]

I hope you enjoy and please consider reblogging! Taglist! @scarcrossdlvrs, @steddie-there, @indigohightide, @steddieas-shegoes, @steve-harringtits, @mylilplanet, @afewproblems, @xenon-demon, @inairbinad, @matchingbatbites

[bxllamiizu]

Every memory coming back again

Pairing: Vampire!Mizu x Human!Fem!Reader

Warning: Angst, death

A/N: This was fun to write (took me the whole night) very melancholic, but that’s how I like it. I know the warnings are very blunt, but y’all are just gonna have to continue reading

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Under the canopy of an ancient oak, Mizu's head found solace in the gentle cradle of your lap. The rustling leaves overhead murmured their approval, as though the very tree embraced the clandestine love you both shared.

"I've been thinking," you began, fingers weaving idly through Mizu's dark tresses. "Do you ever envision us... as more? Beyond this secrecy?"

With a gentle shift, she lifted her gaze, her sapphire eyes, pools of an otherworldly depth, rising to meet yours. As the subtle rustle of leaves whispered above, mizu’s gaze flickered with a quiet understanding.

She observed the way your eyes gravitated towards the forget-me-not flowers, a gentle admiration evident in the way your gaze softened, drawn to their ethereal beauty. It's a subtle detail she's picked up on, a silent acknowledgment of your affection for these azure-hued blossoms that envelop the sacred space, hinting at a deeper connection you hold with the tranquil environment.

Her cerulean gaze, like the depths of a tranquil ocean, met yours. "Always," she replied, her voice a soft melody in the tranquil space beneath the tree. "But you know how the world sees us."

A sigh escaped you, longing lacing every word. "I wish we could be free... married, perhaps. Maybe adopt a child and grow old together."

Mizu's hand found yours, fingers entwining in a silent promise. "Someday," she whispered, a wistful smile gracing her lips.

But amidst the dreams of shared tomorrows, your persistent inquiry surfaced once more, the unspoken desire hanging heavy in the air. "Mizu, why won't you turn me?"

Her gaze faltered, a subtle shadow crossing her features. "Please," she implored softly, "don't ask that again. It's not something I can give you."

A hint of disappointment lingered in your eyes, yet Mizu's response always came veiled in mystery, an answer she kept locked within her silent heart. Sensing your longing, she leaned in, her lips capturing yours in a fervent, impassioned kiss.

In that moment, as the world faded into a blur around you, it was not words that expressed her love but the tenderness of her touch, the fervor of her embrace, and the silent promise woven within the passionate exchange of affection. The unspoken questions dissolved into the air, replaced by the palpable warmth of your intertwined souls, entangled in the clandestine haven you had carved out for your love.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Your bond with Mizu transcended time, ethnicity, and the boundaries of mortality. It was a love steeped in the forbidden, veiled by secrecy and fear of persecution.

In the dimly lit chambers of the 1600s London, whispers of fear echoed through the cobblestone streets. As whispers turned to fervent accusations, Both of you were accused of monstrous acts, blamed for unnatural occurrences plaguing the town. Deemed as creatures of the night, accused of witchcraft and vampirism, crimes against the sanctity of London.

Amidst the chaos, Mizu’s heart ached with the unbearable realization that the one she loved was entangled in this chaos, falsely accused. She yearned for your safety, for a life far removed from the shadows she inhabited.

The night of reckoning arrived as the townspeople, fueled by fear and a misguided sense of salvation, herded the accused—Mizu, you, and others—into the hallowed confines of a church. The flames crackled, licking at the wooden beams, casting eerie shadows upon the stone walls.

In a moment that etched itself into eternity, amidst the chaos and desperation, Mizu’s resolve wavered not in fear for her own existence, but for the life she cherished more than her own immortality. As the flames rose higher, you made a selfless decision, a final act of love.

With tearful eyes and a heart heavy with the weight of undying affection, you held Mizu close, whispering words of bittersweet adoration. “I can’t bear to see you condemned to this fate, Mizu. Go, flee this place, find solace in the night, but promise me… promise me you’ll remember our love.”

Mizu’s gaze met yours, brimming with an eternity of emotions. “No, I cannot leave you here,” she pleaded, her voice a haunting melody tainted by sorrow. “I cannot lose you, not like this.”

Tears traced your cheeks as a trembling hand reached to gently caress Mizu’s face. “Please, for once, let me protect you. If you love me, go. Find another life, another path where danger cannot touch you. Live… live for us both.”

Mizu fought against the torrent of emotions, the unbearable weight of a heart torn between love and the desire to honor your selfless sacrifice. Reluctantly, with a heart shattered into irreparable fragments, Mizu yielded to your final plea.

As Mizu prepared to flee, your voice, consumed by anguish and determination, pierced through the stifling air, “Promise me, Mizu. If there’s another life, another existence, find me. Find me amidst the chaos of time. Promise me this, if you can.”

The tumult of emotions erupted within her, a tempestuous storm of love and anguish. With a whirlwind of determination, Mizu pivoted and rushed back, her eyes blurred by tears yet fixated on your silhouette.

In an instant, you were intertwined, enveloped in an embrace that transcended time and reason. Mizu’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as though trying to merge your souls into one. Tears mingled, a silent symphony of sorrow and passion, as your lips met in a fervent, passionate kiss.

It was a bittersweet collision of love and farewell, a moment steeped in the depths of longing and the agony of impending separation. Your kiss spoke of undying affection, an unspoken plea for time to halt, for fate to rewrite its cruel decree.

Mizu poured her heart into that kiss, every brush of your lips a testament to the love that defied the boundaries of your tragic reality. It was a dance of passion and sorrow, an intricate tapestry woven from your intertwined destinies, your breaths mingling with the silent sobs that shook your frames.

Your embrace tightened, fingers entwined in an effort to hold onto a moment slipping away. And in that kiss, amid the tears that streamed down your cheeks, you said goodbye—a word unsaid, yet resonating with the weight of a thousand unspoken emotions.

For a fleeting moment, the world ceased to exist around you. In that embrace, in that heartrending kiss, time stood still, immortalizing your love—a love that would endure, tethered across the abyss of time, echoing through the ages as an indelible testament to a bond that transcended mortal constraints.

Mizu pulled away, her eyes holding a deep sorrow yet shining with an unwavering resolve. She steadied herself, the weight of the promise heavy on her lips, her voice trembling with emotion.

“I promise,” Mizu whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I will seek you in every lifetime, in every existence. I will find you, if such a chance is granted to us again.”

Her words lingered in the air, woven into the fabric of time, carrying the weight of undying love and an unyielding commitment that transcended the boundaries of your fleeting mortal lives. It was a vow etched into eternity, a promise made amidst the tumult of love and tragedy—a promise to seek you across the vast expanse of time, an unspoken prayer for reunion against the odds.

With one last searing glance filled with a lifetime of regret and longing, Mizu fled into the night, carrying the weight of that moment etched into her immortal soul.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

My Dearest,

It’s been centuries since that fateful night when flames devoured our world, tearing us apart in a whirlwind of despair. I often find myself haunted by the echo of your voice, the warmth of your touch, and the unbearable weight of a promise made amidst the searing inferno.

The weight of regret presses upon me, an unrelenting burden that lingers in the crevices of my immortal soul. How I wish I could rewrite our story, reshape fate's cruel hand, and spare you from the torment that befell us. Oh, how I longed to be human, to bask in the simplicity of life, to marry you, and to share an existence where we'd grow old together, wrapped in each other's love until the end of our days.

The memory of your sacrifice tears at the fabric of my being. Why did you choose to give yourself for a creature like me? How could you willingly offer your life for a being perceived as a monster? I cannot fathom nor forgive this act, no matter the depth of my love for you.

There are nights when I curse the promise I made amidst the consuming flames—vowing to find you in another life, in another existence. It feels like a cruel jest, a futile pursuit. Yet, in the midst of this despair, I am tethered to the unwavering hope that defies reason—a hope that I will find you again, against all odds, despite my disbelief in such fanciful notions as reincarnation.

I live in a world colored by shame and regret, haunted by memories of a love too pure for the confines of this existence. Even as I pen these words, the specter of our tragic tale looms large, a haunting melody of love and sacrifice tangled in an eternal dance.

I cannot erase the past, nor can I absolve myself of the guilt that weighs heavily upon my immortal heart. But in the vast expanse of time, where stars are born and civilizations crumble, I promise, amidst my doubts and despair, to seek you once more, to find you against all reason, against the impossible.

Yours eternally,

Mizu

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

The fading sunlight painted the sky in hues of pink and gold as you wandered along the familiar hiking trail, enveloped in the serenity of the surroundings. Thoughts swirled within, a maelstrom of emotions tugging at the edges of your consciousness, an odd occurrence for someone typically composed.

As the weight of the world pressed upon you, tears welled in your eyes, silently streaming down your cheeks. Lost in the whirlwind of your thoughts, you failed to notice a figure standing ahead—a woman, framed by the descending sun, watching you with an expression shrouded in enigmatic familiarity.

Her presence commanding attention amidst the serene backdrop of the forest. Tall and statuesque, she carries herself with a graceful allure, her slender frame seemingly enshrouded in an enigmatic elegance.

Her arresting sapphire eyes, like pools of azure depths, hold a mystique that seems to draw you into the depths of her being. They glisten with a haunting allure, betraying an ancient wisdom and an unspoken sorrow that tinges the cerulean depths.

Dark strands of midnight-hued hair cascade in a silken waterfall around her shoulders, framing a visage that emanates an otherworldly beauty. Each lock seems to carry a tale of centuries past, whispering secrets woven into the fabric of her existence.

Startled, you blinked away tears and rubbed your eyes, trying to comprehend her sudden presence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” you mumbled, your voice slightly tremulous, unsure whether to feel embarrassed or relieved at the unexpected company.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," she offered with a faint smile, her demeanor casual yet carrying an undertone of something indefinable.

"Uh, it's okay, I guess. Just wasn't expecting to see anyone here," you managed to reply, your voice betraying a hint of uncertainty.

With a soft chuckle, she remarked, "Guess we're both drawn to the same spot for some solace."

Despite feeling slightly uneasy, her words struck a chord within you. "Yeah, I suppose," you replied, a hint of vulnerability seeping into your voice.

The woman’s gaze softened, a silent understanding dancing in her eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice tender yet carrying a depth that hinted at an intricate story untold.

Feeling an inexplicable pull, a sense of comfort in this stranger’s presence, you nodded hesitantly. “Just… feeling overwhelmed, I suppose,” you admitted, your voice tinged with vulnerability.

The woman nodded understandingly, her eyes searching yours as if trying to decipher the depths of your emotions. "I understand. Sometimes it feels like we're drowning in the weight of it all," she said, her voice tinged with empathy.

The conversation continued, meandering between shared sentiments and unspoken words. Despite the oddity of the encounter, there was an undeniable comfort in sharing your thoughts with this enigmatic stranger.

"I must say, it's rather unusual for someone to be out here alone," you mentioned, trying to lighten the mood.

A wistful smile graced the woman's lips. "I could say the same for you," she replied, a hint of playful banter in her tone.

A subtle change flickered in her demeanor, a momentary lapse where her gaze lingered on your exposed neck, a flash of hunger subdued swiftly by an overwhelming surge of emotions. You noticed her gaze and felt a tinge of unease but brushed it off as a trick of the fading light.

"You seem familiar... do I know you from somewhere?," you remarked, a curious glint in your eyes.

A fleeting expression of recognition flashed in her eyes, quickly masked by an expertly concealed neutrality. "Déjà vu, perhaps?" she suggested, deflecting the question skillfully.

Her gaze drifted, lingering on the forget-me-not flower tattoo adorning your shoulder. Memories surged within her—a flood of emotions tied to her past lover's affection for that very bloom.

"I like your tattoo," she complimented, tactfully diverting the conversation away from her own inexplicable familiarity.

As the sun dipped lower, casting elongated shadows across the forest floor, she sensed it was time for your paths to diverge. With a gentle touch and a whispered command, she compelled you to forget this encounter, to return home and erase this moment from your memory.

In a blink, she vanished, leaving behind a sense of bewilderment and confusion. Confused but guided by an inexplicable force, you retraced your steps, heading back home, oblivious to the extraordinary encounter that had just taken place.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Later, in the privacy of your room, an inexplicable sense of familiarity washed over you. You discovered a forget-me-not carefully tucked behind your ear, a delicate bloom that carried an unknown nostalgia, its significance shrouded in mystery.

Unbeknownst to you, hidden in the shadows, Mizu watched the glow of your apartment building. She had followed from a distance, ensuring your safe return, a silent guardian amidst the waning twilight.

She knew, deep within, that their paths would inevitably cross once more, an unspoken promise that transcended the barriers of time and fate.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Bonus (?)

In the waning light of the forest, Mizu's presence seemed to dance between the shadows and the glow of twilight. Surrounded by the gentle rustle of leaves and the silent whispers of nature, she plucked a single forget-me-not flower, its azure petals cradled delicately between her fingertips.

Approaching you with an otherworldly grace, she reached out, tucking the bloom behind your ear with an intimate tenderness that resonated deep within your being. Her proximity elicited an unexplainable yearning, an inexplicable longing for a connection lost in the corridors of time.

"Close your eyes," her voice, a melody dipped in haunting melancholy, coaxed gently.

Your eyelids fluttered closed, drawn to her ethereal presence, as though surrendering to an enchanting melody. There, in the cocoon of the forest's embrace, her words flowed like a soothing lullaby, casting a spell that echoed within the chambers of your consciousness.

"Remember only the tranquility of this place," her voice, a whisper woven with an enchantment beyond comprehension, caressed your senses. "Let the memory of our encounter fade into the tranquility of the woods, and walk back home with peace in your heart."

Under the sway of her mesmerizing voice, a gentle fog enveloped your thoughts, veiling the vivid details of the surreal encounter. It was as though a silken curtain descended, cocooning the memory of your meeting in a soft haze, a dreamlike whisper that danced on the edges of your consciousness.

"Goodbye," her voice, tinged with an unspeakable sorrow, lingered like a melancholic melody, each syllable a poignant farewell that stirred an ache within your soul.

As the final tendrils of her enchantment swirled around you, a feather-light touch brushed your forehead, a tender caress that imprinted itself upon your very essence. The fleeting sensation of her lips left a ghostly warmth—a silent lament etched on the canvas of your skin.

In an ephemeral blink, she vanished, leaving behind a sense of emptiness and a bewildering swirl of emotions, an ache for a connection you couldn't entirely grasp—an enigmatic dance between the tangible and the ethereal, a lingering echo of a love lost in the mists of time.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

A/N: This really took its time to be completed but there were so many ideas that came to mind I ended up combining some together

[himegureisu]

3 | The Woman

Mycroft never texts if he can talk. Must be a root canal. - Sherlock

Did you have a domestic? -Mrs. Hudson

Caring is not an advantage. -Mycroft

A/N: Those lines above are what inspired this chapter. This is set in S1 E3 The Great Game. Enjoy!

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst (?), Sick Reader

WC: 1600~

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—————————— 🔎——————————

From the horizon, dawn begins to break upon the land.

Through the curtains, a soft golden hue is cast across the study. On the furniture, light and shadow dance, shelves of old leather tomes, and the occasional trinkets are briefly emphasized by the sun’s radiance. From the fireplace, a hint of cinnamon and fresh parchment wafts through the room.

A piece of quiet in the chaos that is life.

“Myc, I called Anthea to clear your schedule for tomorrow and the following Friday,”

Against the light, on his chair, Mycroft works. His gaze, previously on the thin dossier, turns to you as you enter.

“Why is that, my dear?” he asks. Truly clueless on this.

“Dentist appointments for you,”

Oh, that.

His tooth has been bothering him for a week and he hasn’t done anything about it. You checked. His schedule for the month didn’t include a single dentist appointment.

This man.

“You didn’t need to, my dear,” Mycroft dismissed, “It will go away,”

“You don’t know that,” In front of his desk, you stand, hands on your hips, as he winced from the pain, “You’re not a dentist, Myc,”

“I am one of the most intelligent people in the world,” he attests. His patience was thin from a long night. His ire slowly rose. Was this the only reason you disturbed him? When there was much to do than this? “I do know what this is,”

“Is it so bad that I care that you’re in pain?”

“Caring is not an advantage,” he simply answered.

What? Did he honestly just say that? Where did that even come from?

His solid gaze and silence afterward were the answer. Your heart ached at its implications. Was everything a lie? Your mind conjures every memory and moment shared between you two. His smile, laughter, and the way he longed for your touch. Your chest is heavier, the thoughts slowly consuming you.

Did he not care?

“If caring is not an advantage, then I guess this whole marriage is a sham,” your voice breaking, you turned away, “Don’t expect me for breakfast, or dinner, or even in bed tonight,”

His eyes widened in shock, at last, he recognized the implication of his words, however, too late. His study door slammed shut, as you walked out, and echoed throughout the house. Regret and shame weighed heavily on his shoulders.

What has he done?

—————————— 🔎——————————

True to your word, you weren’t at breakfast. You couldn’t face him. Your cheeks are stained. Your eyes puffed from crying in the guest room. Your rings seem to mock you on sight. It was tempting to throw them off the Thames but decided against it.

It was too early for that.

Your chauffeur dropped you off at work as usual. Your eyes are hidden behind a pair of shades that others did well not to comment on. Your head aches from the tears and turmoil, but you know that life goes on.

Your phone is slowly bombarded by his messages that you rightfully ignored.

Throughout the morning, your headache worsened. Your focus is off, the letters on your computer screen blur, and the room spins a bit around you. 

Every joint in your body hurts, not because of Mycroft, but because the warmth radiating from your breath is the only sign you need.

A fever. You couldn’t work, not like this.

Your manager was informed of your condition and tasked not to tell your husband that you were sick. Your chauffeur immediately returned to pick you up when he started to text him.

“Don’t you dare report back to him,” you snap at the man withdrawing his hold on the phone, “If he cares, then he’ll text me directly not you,”

“Yes, ma’am,” they comply.

At home, you bundle yourself in the guest bedroom. Medicine on one nightstand, soup on the other as you hide beneath the sheets, tears falling once again hoping that everything would turn out okay.

—————————— 🔎——————————

Your genuine interest in who he was beneath the stoic persona was what first attracted him to you. Other people didn’t do that. Other people never did that.

But evidently, you weren’t other people.

That’s why when you didn’t come for breakfast, for the first time, in a long time, he was scared. Scared of losing you because of who and how he is.

When his messages were ignored when he asked for an update and your driver simply answered I can’t say, sir, her orders. The pit that formed in his stomach only went deeper. His anxiety escalates with each passing minute.

He couldn’t work, not like this. He was wrong. He needed to make it right.

“Anthea,” he called over the intercom, the young assistant quickly appeared phone on hand, “Do clear my schedule for the rest of the day I’m going home,”

“Sir?” Anthea inquired, as he started to walk out, “What about —”

“No, this is important,” The most important.

“Of course, sir, I’ll have your car waiting outside,”

His driver takes the fastest route back upon his insistence. His thoughts were a whirlwind of the worst scenarios. What if you were gone? What if you truly left, rings on the countertop and a letter in the kitchen to explain?

By five in the afternoon, he was home. The earliest he’s been in years.

God, he could do better than this. He should. You shouldn’t need to wait for hours for him to come home. He should be a better husband than that.

“Darling, I’m home!” he announced, as soon as he crossed the threshold, though no one answered, and looked around, “My dear, please we need to talk,”

Nothing.

Panic. Complete and utter panic takes over the great Mycroft Holmes.

His heavy steps echoed through the halls as he rushed to the master’s bedroom to find no one. Yet, your effects remained where they were. He goes through every single room in the house until he opens the door to one of the guest bedrooms.

On the bed, beneath a thick lump of blankets, you curled up miserably and ignored his arrival.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out, walking over to the side of the bed, “My dear, please look at me,”

“No,” you quietly answered, “Go away, Mycroft,”

His heart sank at your firm position away from him. He did hurt you, so bad that you couldn’t face him.

Though, you weren’t exactly presentable.

There were tissues crumpled on the other side of the bed. Your cheeks were wet, nose stuffed and red, and eyes swollen from crying as he started to speak.

“I am sorry. I can’t say that enough to make this better,” he paused, his gaze on the mound that separates you, “I didn’t mean to imply that I didn’t care about you. I do care and love you. To love and to cherish, till death do us part that’s a vow I intend to keep, my love,”

Your attention is caught by his term of endearment. He rarely ever calls you that.

“It is that I simply choose what I care about and the rest is insignificant,” he explained, “Caring for trivial little things like a dentist appointment doesn’t matter to me,”

“It does matter to me. You take care of others far too well but you neglect yourself.” you softly said, from beneath the blankets, “Your parents, brother, and I are under constant protection of guards but who protects you Mycroft? Who protects you from yourself? Who cares for the carer? I don’t want you to die early Mycroft. There’s so much life has in store for us,”

Your headaches after that little speech. A sharp pain briefly passes through causing you to wince and close your eyes.

“I understand. I will endeavor to do and take care of myself better,” he says and turns to see the back of your head poking out from the sheets. 

“My love, please look at me,”

You shake your head no. Big mistake.

Your pained groan comes to his ears loud and clear as he leans down to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Darling?” His fingers touch the side of your head, very warm. No rather alarmingly warm, “You’re sick,”

He deduced and finally, you push the blanket down a bit to face him. Your body is a raging furnace. Your skin is too pale in the light. Your breaths are shallow and insufficient. His hand is cool on your skin as he places it on your forehead with a frown.

“How long has this been?” he asks, noticing the medicine and cold soup on the nightstands, “How are you feeling? When did you last take medicine?”

To think, he thinks he doesn't care when he fusses like a mother hen.

“Just this afternoon, I’m tired, hot yet cold, one nostril is clogged annoying and my head hurts so much,” you confessed, “I drank paracetamol when I came home so it’s been five hours,”

“You can take another one then,” he stands up, “After I ask for food from the kitchens,”

“Okay,” you concede, as he kissed your cheek, “Myc, don’t. You’ll get sick,”

“I never get sick, love,” he walked over to the door to leave, but paused in step, “Are we okay?”

His eyes glisten in hope and fear of your answer. Your lips slowly turn upward as he quietly continues to assess you and your condition.

“We’re getting there,”

You say a sense of relief washes over you both. He nods, a small smile playing on his lips before he heads out to fetch food for you. As he leaves, he can’t help but feel grateful that in all of the people in the world, you loved him despite everything.

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[haee-elia]

spence-tober: day 11 - boxer

pairing: boxer!spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: in which you attend your first ever match of your boxer boyfriend

word count: 1600

warnings: fighting, boxing, lots of mentions of cuts, bruises, blood

spence-tober masterlist

The whole atmosphere was gloomy, you noticed. From the audience and the dark lights to the actual lighted ring itself with it’s menacing look. You don’t know what is worse, being up on the bleachers and seeing it from a bird’s eye view or being up in the front and watching the action unfold.

Unfortunately, you were right up in the front with Spencer’s insistence and you didn’t have the heart to say no again, to coming to watch a match of his.

You weren’t exactly sure how someone as faint of heart as you ended up with a competitive boxer, but here you were, six months into a relationship with the infamous Spencer ‘Pretty Boy’ Reid.

The nickname ‘Pretty Boy’ coming from how no matter beat up he looked after a fight, his face still remained as handsome as ever. 

You hated this, already, and the match hadn’t even started. Both fighters, including Spencer, were back in the locker rooms getting ready for the introductions and then were going into the fight. The lights were on above the ring and the rest were dimmed around the audience.

You had met up with your boyfriend earlier and he helped soothe your nerves. 

It was your first ever match of Spencer’s that you were attending, both of you had agreed prior that it was never the right time.

Spencer was too scared of scaring you away in the first couple months, what with all the blood and cuts and bruises that his profession came with.

And you wanted to wait until you were a little bit more serious to risk fainting at the sight of your boyfriend getting clocked in the face.

You’d seen him train before and even hung out with him at the gym, but never have you ever watched an actual fight.

“Calm down, piccola,” Rossi says from beside you, taking his hand and putting it on top of yours, comfortingly.

Rossi was Spencer’s manager. Despite being the man that was the reason your man came to your apartment in cuts and blood every week or so, you got along with the older Italian.

He called you piccola due to the comparison of you and Spencer. Spencer, the tall, muscular man with long arms and you, smaller in contrast. 

“I know, I know, I know,” You repeat, mostly to yourself. Your knees are bouncing up and down and your eyes dart around to the respective entrances, waiting to see your boyfriend. 

“Ladies and gentlemen!” A voice on the speaker rings throughout the small arena. The volume is pretty loud and you wince at it. Instantly, goosebumps decorate your arms, legs, and the back of your neck.

You don’t listen to much else that the announcer has to say and instead and take comfort in watching your boyfriend strut in. Unlike his opponent, he doesn’t do the whole song and dance and pander to the crowd, he just walks into the ring and even nods in thanks to his trainer, Aaron Hotchner when he lifts the rope for him.

Your eyes are trained on him, not even looking at his opponent, and a weary and nervous smile grows on your face when his eyes meet yours. Spencer returns your smile and mouths, “Are you okay?” to which you nod and gesture over to the ring and the match to be won. 

“Focus” You mouth back at him, giggling a little at his shrug in response. You don’t understand how he can be so lighthearted being minutes away from swinging, but you find it endearing how he’s trying to make you feel a little better.

Spencer had offered and advised that it was okay if you wanted to leave and weren’t ready to watch a match yet. You had declined, saying that you wanted to be there for him and watch him do his job. You vehemently didn’t want to leave after agreeing, but your confidence in your decision waned and you remained nervous and worried about your boyfriend.

He looks away from you after sharing one more round of laughter and then turned to the referee, ready for the match to start. 

The bell rang and the fight was afoot. It started out docile, like Spencer said it would, their footwork dancing around each other making play jabs before retracting back to their dance. But then the first punch made contact and you winced, even if Spencer wasn’t the one being hit. 

From there, it was non-stop jabs, punches, upper-cuts, and just pounding made by the muscles hidden by the boxing gloves. The mouthpieces held by their teeth seemingly growled as they faced off and you could see the sweat starting to accumulate on their body. 

You didn’t realize how huge a difference seeing Spencer spar off with Aaron or Derek would compare to seeing an actual match with an actual opponent who was boxing to win. 

Without Rossi by your side, you would have darted outside to collect yourself, but his hand on yours grounded you and you squeezed hard on his hand as the fight went on. His whispers of reassurances to you helped a lot as well, saying how Spencer was the favorite to win and that he was pulling some of his punches to make the match last long enough to be entertaining.

You’d quip to Spencer later that you’d rather have your boyfriend be less entertaining than all the blood and gore.

“He’s doing great, piccola. If he wanted to end it now, he could. Easily, piccola, easily.” Rossi whispers to you. You’re not even sure if his eyes are on the match, you know that Spencer asked him to look after you.

Your eyes, however, are unable to leave Spencer’s form. His abs and upper body are glistening with sweat and you are already noting where the bruises will form tomorrow. His face, you have to say, is still in pristine condition. No wonder his nickname was ‘Pretty Boy’.

Like Rossi said, Spencer had the entire control of the fight and the opponent was punching and jabbing at him frustrated and with more rage than your boyfriend. The heat of his anger and the atmosphere of the ring overwhelmed him and it was only two more punches until Spencer won the round.

His opponent never recovered from that loss in the first round and Spencer went on to win the bout with minimal damage visible on his body and face. 

Spencer didn’t cheer or arrogantly run around the ring like you had seen others do on the TV, but simply let the referee hold his arm up in signaling the winner of the match. 

A meak smile made its way onto your face as you clapped, politely. You’re glad that Spencer won and of course happy that he came out relatively unscathed, but you’re not sure if you could sit through and stomach another watch of your boyfriend fighting someone in the ring.

The crowd shuffled out of the stands and Rossi advised that the two of you wait until most of the audience had filed out of the room before heading back to meet Spencer and Hotch in the locker room.

After there was little to no one left, Rossi took you by the elbow and led you through a series of concrete hallways until you both reached Spencer and Hotch. 

As you met eyes, Spencer smiled at you, sitting on the bench with a first aid kit right next to him. Rossi and Hotch left you two alone for a moment to discuss the success of the match while you took two long strides to Spencer’s side.

You gently took the alcohol wipe from his hand, “Congrats on your win,” You applaud him, carefully starting to dab at the small cuts on his face. His hands were already fresh with new bandages and you saw some ice bags in a cooler at the end of the bench.

“Did you enjoy the match?” Spencer asked, looking up at you with those kind eyes you’ve grown to love. He speaks softly as you wipe at his slightly split lip. 

Done with cleaning, you dispose of the wipe and grab a few butterfly bandaids. You hesitate before speaking, “I enjoyed watching you,” You say.

You don’t want to lie to Spencer or make him worry, so you tell a half-truth.

Still standing between his legs, you tilt his head around to place the bandaids on his face. With the final one, you press a sweet kiss to his unmarred cheek. 

“You looked worried,” Spencer comments. He wishes he could return your cute peck, but with his fresh split lip, it’s better to wait. He compromises with rubbing his thumb over your free hand. 

You chuckled, “You were watching me? I thought I was supposed to be watching you.” 

“It’s your first time watching a match. I have the right to be worried about my girlfriend.” Spencer defends himself, a light and joking tone in his voice.

“Don’t let Hotch or Rossi know that you weren’t paying attention,” You giggle and joke back.

He shrugs it off, focusing on you, “You know, you don’t have to come watch the fights.” He tells you, a caring gleam in his eye. 

“I wanna support you,” You slightly protest. Spencer, now fully cleaned up and bandaged, drags you into his lap. 

“How about you wait in here and clean me up after?” He suggests, his head nuzzling into your shoulder.

You thread your fingers through his hand and press a kiss to the top of his head.

“Deal.”

a/n: this is super cute! reader is a bit shy here, but let's be honest, i would not be able to see spencer being beaten up in a fight.

[maximwtf]

izzy hands x reader where the reader also served in the navy with izzy. reader has chronic pain and izzy helps them through a particularly painful flare up after overexerting their energy.

Izzy x Reader

words: 1600

google docs pages: 3

warnings: Slight s2 spoilers (I think :”D), smoking, back pain, platonic relationship, hurt/comfort

opening: Blackbeard was back as he used to be, but so was the fierce work no one truly missed. You could endure it, but at some point it became too much, causing a flare up. 

AN// Reader can be any gender! I wasn’t sure what kind of chronic pain you meant, so I went with what I was most familiar with myself. Thank you for the request, I had fun writing this! I hope you like it ^^ (Also take this as a peace offering for the angst I’m going to write next) Requests for him are still very much open!

 “Peace of mind”

Izzy had worked alongside you for as long as you could remember. You had both joined Blackbeard’s crew around the same time; and during the time there so far you had seen Izzy get the position as first mate, seen crew members die and watched Blackbeard change. Stede had come along at some point, and as much as you were used to ignoring people coming on the ship and leaving alive or dead, this one didn’t seem to budge. He stayed and even your stubborn mind could see that he had brought change along his arrival. Blackbeard wasn’t acting the same as before. Sometimes he’d dress differently, behave and talk differently and most of all, it felt like the ship had two captains from time to time which didn’t fit in the ideology of a pirate ship that you had in mind. This didn’t anger you though, not in the way that it seemed to irritate Izzy. He’d often come to you and complain for hours after he’d gotten nowhere with trying to convince Blackbeard to get rid of this man who called himself the gentleman pirate. 

Just as you had kept telling Izzy that Stede would eventually leave, he did. But what came back as Blackbeard was someone else other than the man you’d known him as before. Soon after his return Izzy had gotten his foot injured and refused to tell you what had happened, making you only assume how Edward was now acting. You tried to help him, but he’d become a little more distant as time went on. Which hurt you, but there was no time to think about that. Blackbeard was attacking so many ships and taking in so much treasure from those ships that the crew barely had time to rest. At that point it wasn’t just izzy who looked more than a little disheveled, it was the whole crew. Everyone was exhausted and at this point some even felt bad for the acts they had performed under Blackbeard's command. And you were no different from them.

No different, up until this point. Blackbeard had started to command for the crew to start throwing some of the treasure overboard, since he needed to make more space for new treasure to fit in. It had already been a strain on your back to carry the items in, but to carry them back out at a rather fast phase sounded like it wouldn’t end well for you. The back pain had started off as light, small stings of pain whenever you worked. And you’d ignored it, shrugged it off as something that would pass even if you internally knew what was coming if you kept this up. The feeling was all too familiar, and the part of you that was aware of this also knew that one day you’d wake up and the pain would be much more intense. But you pretended not to know this, because you didn’t want to imagine what would happen if you stopped working for a while and Blackbeard caught you slacking off. Izzy was also aware of your condition, most of the time a little more aware than you had ever been about it. You hadn’t even wanted to admit to yourself when Izzy had suggested that maybe the back pain was chronic, even if he’d been correct. You didn’t want to be known as that injured person in your unit. And that conversation happened long before this moment. 

Yet another night was setting in, and the sea seemed empty, thankfully. No ships meant no fighting and that gave the crew time to rest. And so most of the people took advantage of that and were sleeping wherever they could, giving you time to be alone on the main deck. Your back hurt, and moving made it so much more worse so you had given up and leaned your whole body weight on a mast pole. The heavy boxes of treasure you’d carried today and the days before were the last straw, and this was the flare up that followed. Crouching down at this point was not even an option, and so you leaned your head against the mast and took a drag from the cigarette you held between your fingers, blowing the smoke into the cool sea air. The pain was bringing your mood down, further down than it had already been buried with the work and atmospehere on the ship. 

As another shaky breath of smoke left you, the sound of someone arriving on the main deck rang in the silence of the night. The person made their way to the mast, stopping behind you. “You’re spending the time to rest well.” He said, the voice revealing who the person was. Of course Izzy had come to see where you were. “I was about to come down soon.” You took another drag from the cigarette, turning to give the rest to Izzy but the movement made you groan before Izzy’s hand made contact with yours, taking the cigarette. You didn’t want to look at him again, leaning back against the pole. That had been enough to alert him of the flare up, and you knew he wasn’t going to leave you alone after that. “You moron, I told you to fucking leave the heavy work to someone else.” He said, voice stern but you knew he was worried, which you hated. He looked half dead most of the time when he came back from a visit with Blackbeard, yet he found it in him to worry for you. Maybe that was the small part that was left of his past self, still trying desperately to care for you. “I can do things just fine.” Your jaw tightened, not out of anger for his worry but out of frustration for yourself. You felt useless, even if you had done the work this was always the result. Even the standing hurt, as simple of a task as that was. 

Izzy took one last drag from the cigarette, putting it out by pushing it against the mast, leaving a black mark on it. “Come on, I’ll cover for you as long as you need me to.” He turned around, your gaze followed him. He was expecting you to follow him, but you didn’t just yet. He was limping, worse than before. The feeling of worry over him eased out the scowl from your face, following him all the way to his quarters. He took breaks while walking, turning to check on you but not saying anything. 

You entered his quarters first, looking at the bed before drawing in a breath and sitting down with a groan. It hurt, and it felt like it wasn’t even getting better than this. No matter how much time you thought had passed, this always happened after a certain amount of work. And recently it had started to feel like the amount of work you could endure had begun to be smaller and smaller. And if now Izzy got himself in trouble for covering your work, that would be your fault too. An overwhelmed sob escaped, and soon another. You’d feel embarrassed if this was the first time you’d broken down in front of him, but it wasn’t. This was just another flare up to the collection of many that he’d been there for. “Come on now, look here.” He said, voice a little further away as he tried to grab something from under his bed. “Fuck off.” You groaned, keeping your eyes closed, but it didn’t block the tears from making their way down your cheeks. “I know ye think this is again it, but you’ve made it this far…” He said, the sentence sounding like he had drifted off while looking for the item and forgotten to say the rest. “So how about we talk?” He finished, voice a little more awkward. Had he picked that up from Stede? You grinned slightly, opening your eyes as the tears kept making their way down. “As a crew?” You joked. Talking things out as a crew had become somewhat of a joke for the two of you, after listening to Izzy rant about how much he despised the change Stede had brought. “Sure.” He shrugged, more amused by your attitude now and willing to keep it up. “Rum?” The first mate asked, turning to you with the bottle he had found. He reached out with his free hand and wiped away the tears racing down, but before he was able to pull away you took a hold of his wrist. “Please.” Came out as more of a whisper, his thumb caressed the top of your hand a couple of times. Izzy corked the bottle, handing it to you. “There you are.” The first mate said, almost silent enough for you to miss it. There weren’t many things on the ship anymore that brought you back to the surface, but Izzy had stuck around for reasons you could not name. But it made you feel better. Things could be worse, and the pain would pass. It was okay for now. 

AN// I'm sorry if there are any spelling errors, even though I did proof read this. I'm too hyped to write for this man to hold back anything I write to double check everything XD

[discount-shades]

Dead or Alive Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Ten Wanted Men

A/N: This one is short but it felt like a really good place to end the chapter. The next chapter will be longer. :)

Pairing: Jake Seresin/Reader 

Warning: Western themed violence. 

Word Count: 1600 ish

Summary: Sugar and Jake plan to rob a stage. 

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“I know of a score,” Pete looks up at you over his morning coffee. When you woke this morning you were still mulling over Jake's words from the night before. But when you saw Pete you made up your mind.

“I know of someone rich coming into the area.” Pete sets down his mug and looks at you. “Jake says you are always looking for information.”

“For a first time informant I usually pay them after the job is done.” He surveys you from across the table. “I could make an exception for you.”

“No, I want in on the job.” His eyebrows raise at your determined expression. “In for a penny, in for a pound.” You might as well go for the big score. A larger take could set you up in comfort. You could change your name and claim to be a widow. You could go back east or further west; Canada or Mexico would be safe. Plans and ideas were springing to life in your mind. “I’m already wanted.”

“Have you ever robbed someone before?” It was a valid question. “Other than that horse you got caught taking.” You shook your head mutely. When Pete went to open his mouth you quickly interjected.

“I’ve stolen other things, I was a pickpocket,” there is an earnest expression on your face. “Just not with guns.” You needed to be in on this job, needed the money. He sighs and you can feel his faith in you slipping away. “I can do this.”

You sit down across from him. “Let me do this Pete.” You stare at your clasped hands and feel like you are begging. Shifting your posture so your arms are crossed in front of you, you rest your elbows on the table. “It’s a stage, William Roberts, my old boss, is getting married and his bride-to-be is traveling by stagecoach to Pine Creek.” 

“You want to rob some poor woman on her way to be wed?”

You shake your head. “I don’t care why she is traveling, she’s wealthy. Roberts likes to brag about how big her dowry is and how much money she is going to be bringing into the marriage.” 

“How much money would she have?” Pete still had a dubious expression. “Banks can wire money between people these days over long distances. 

“That's the thing. Roberts was always complaining about how his fiance's father didn’t trust banks and insisted on bringing the dowry in cash.” The promise of a big payday sparked in Pete’s eyes and a devilish smile began to curl his lips. 

“A sentiment that, after our little bank robbery, I’m sure Mr. Roberts would share.” Pete gazed at you in thought for a moment before he broke his silence. “Gang takes half of the take, some of that goes to Penny, some for the emergency fund, and all people on the job split the other half of the profits.” It made sense, Penny did say she got a cut.

“I’ll talk to Hangman, he’ll run the job with you.”

“I was thinking–”

“It’s non negotiable.” Pete’s voice is curt in a way you haven't heard from him before. “He’s got the most experience with stages, you go with him or you don’t go at all.”

Nodding, you clench your jaw mulishly. Spending more time with Jake was not what you had in mind. You just knew he was going to complain the whole time about having to help you get the money to replace the hat. 

When you turn to go Pete stops you. “Get some breakfast.” He motions to a pot of oatmeal on the stove warming. You get a bowl and load it up with as much brown sugar as you can stand and sit across from him. “Glad to see you’re still eating porridge.” You glare and shovel a large spoonful into your mouth, chewing obnoxiously. Laughing, Pete drains his coffee before heading up the stairs. 

– – – 

Later you are able to wash your clothing and hang it on a line out back to dry. You only have the blue dress which doesn’t seem suitable for robbing. Maybe you will be able to borrow some clothes from Natasha, pants might be better. You could offer to do her laundry in exchange.

You watch your clothes blowing in the wind from the small window in your room. Pete said he would talk to Jake and you are just about to go find him when the man in question barges into your room. You survey him with raised eyebrows. “You know, knocking’s nice.”

“What?” he glances around the room, eyes flitting over the bed before his gaze lands on you and a faint blush colours his cheeks. “Oh, right. Nevermind that, Pete says you know of a stage with rich passengers.” He quickly sits across from you. “Tell me everything you know.”

“My old boss, Roberts, is getting married to an heiress from back east, new money but, like Roberts, her father has intentions for higher office and he needs connections around the country.” 

“You think she will be traveling with her dowry?” Jake leans back in his chair.

“Yeah, $10,000 cash.” His eyebrows rise at the amount. “Plus any jewelry she might have on her. She is supposed to arrive on the stagecoach that gets into Pine Creek next Friday.” Butterflies fill your stomach as Jake nods in understanding. This is really happening. 

“I can work with this.” Dimples cut into his cheeks as his green eyes sparkle down at you. “This might be a very lucrative payday for the both of us.” He stands and makes his way to the door and you scramble after him.

“Wait! What’s the plan? What clothes do I need? Do I need a horse? I don’t own a gun.” Jake pauses at the door, a look of confusion on his face.

“You’re not coming.” He says matter of factly. “I’ll get Phoenix and Bob to help, You’ll get 5%.” The door is halfway open when you slam it shut.

“That’s my lead, Jake.” Arms crossed, you wedge yourself between Jake and the door, leaning back to keep it firmly closed. The butterflies are gone, replaced with a white hot anger directed at the man in front of you. 

“You’ve never robbed a stage before.” He leans in, towering over you. “I’m not taking some greenhorn out on her first robbery so you can play at being an outlaw.” 

His hand brushes past you as he jerks open the door behind you, flinging you forward into his chest with a soft cry. Your body alights with sensation at being pressed against him but you quickly shove him back and resume your position in front of the door, this time with your hands clasped behind you over the door knob. Your fingers tingle at the memory of the warmth of his chest as you clutch the cool metal.

“You leave me behind, I'll send a telegram of what you plan on doing.” You glare up at him, heart pounding. His eyes are hard as they flick between yours, the easy grin and dimples you have come to appreciate are gone. It is a long moment before either of you say anything.

“You would sell us out?” There is an edge of danger in his voice. He steps closer and you feel a tendril of apprehension run down your spine at the feel of his hard chest brushing against yours. 

“Only if you steal my robbery.” Your confidence crumbles internally but you raise your chin a little to keep looking him in the eye. There is a line of respect between outlaws, honor among thieves and all, and you fear you have crossed it by threatening to go to the authorities. When you bite your lip in uncertainty his eyes leave yours to fix on your lips. 

When his eyes return to yours and there is heat in them. “Remember what you said earlier about there always being a choice, and not liking either of the options?” You nod, still standing firm. He leans forward and you can feel his breath brushing over your neck as he whispers in your ear. “I don’t like the option where you come with me.”

“And I don’t like the option where you leave me behind.” You curse the breathless quality of your voice. He leans back with a sigh, eyes searching your face. He must find what he is looking for because he steps back and the tension between you breaks. 

“If you’re coming you will do everything I say without argument, is that clear?” His expression is still serious but he has lost the hard look he had on his face earlier. 

“Crystal.” Jake nods in assent and you breathe a sigh of relief. The tension leaves your frame and you collapse back into the door.

Jake relaxes as well and you can see a slight grin playing across his lips and you feel the corners of your mouth turn up in response. You stand there staring at each other before Jake finally breaks the silence. “Are you going to move out of the way or do I have to crawl out the window?”

Heat floods your face and you step aside. “I should make you climb out the window,” you mutter. The dimples are back in full force as Jake winks before closing the door behind him. 

[goldenempyrean]

Together

❥ Valentines Drabbles: Day 14

❥ Pairing: WandaNat x R

❥ Wordcount:  1600

[ Previous ]  

AN: this got away from me and is no longer a drabble... oops :)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

When Nat woke up that morning to her hair hanging limply down the sides of her head, damp with sweat. She groaned… then sneezed. She wanted to move, to begin getting herself ready for the day but she feels heavy, as if the weight of her body would drag her into the bed. A low, throaty growl of frustration escapes Natasha’s lips. Seriously? On Valentine's Day? Her plans are now entirely screwed thanks to cold she's come down with. Her nose is running like the faucet and despite her excessive use of tissues, nothing seemed to be helping ease her congestion. Everything hurt. God- why did it hurt so much. So with a fateful huff, she gave in, letting her body fall back down into the bed.

She never used to have much of an appetite for romance. Nat was always happier to enjoy a quiet evening in than to be smothered in pink and red hearts for the whole world to see. But with the pair of you, it felt right. Almost as if it completed her. But saying that, everything felt right with you. The two of you were all she needed; you made her whole. The whole day had been planned out, the three of you had sat down and organised it one night. First you’d all meet up for lunch, then watch a film before going out and eventually crashing back at one of your apartments. It was meant to be fun but as Nat sneezed down into her pillow, she couldn’t think of anything worst. Maybe just closing her eyes would help. Yeah, that’s all she needed to do, just rest her eyes for one moment before getting up… resting them – for just a second…

She wasn’t sure how long had passed before a loud ringing jolted her away, forcing her to screw up her eyes as the pounding in her head amplified enfold. She kept her eyes shut and blindly groped around for her phone. When she finds it her fingers fumble over the screen as she clicks the green button, bringing the phone up to her ear was a menial task but in her state, it felt as though was lifting a ton of bricks. "This-’s'Nastasha..." she nasally slurs, the congestion smothering each word but the sound of her misery is almost lost in the crackling, throat-clearing cough she's unable to contain.

“Nat?” Your voice was quivering a little with worry on the other end of the phone, “Baby, we and Wanda were just wondering where you are? We were meant to get lunch, remember? Anyway, never mind that, are you okay? You sound dreadful.”

Shit. In her haze she’d forgotten to text you that she wouldn’t be able to make it out to lunch. Fuck, she felt awful but as she went to convey this Natasha’s words got lodged in her throat, instead she sneezed, once, twice and by third Wanda got taken the phone from your hands on the other end of the line as she mumbled a worried, “Bless you Natty, just hold on a sec, okay?” She slyly muted the call, she didn’t want Nat to overhead her nervous rambling, she knew it’d only make her feel worst, “Y/N, she sounds awful, do you think she’s sick? But- Nat doesn’t get sick, like ever. What if-

You reached out to take the phone back off her, cutting off her nervous rambles. Wanda’s anxiety about the situation wasn’t without reason, she was right about one thing. It was rare for Nat to get sick, “She’s probably just got the flu bub, okay? It’s been going around hasn’t it? We’ll order some soup to go and head over to her apartment, you don’t need to worry sweetie, she’ll be okay.” You soothed Wanda’s worries and politely asked her to go and order Nat her favourite soup to take-out whilst you unmuted your phone, turning your attention back to Nat.

“Baby, you still there?” You asked into the phone.

There was a garbled mumble in response which you took for a yes and continued, “You just stay in bed princess, me and Wanda will be there soon, just try and sleep until we get there, alright?”

As the line goes silent, Nat rubs her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut as she leans against her pillow, hugging it tightly in search of comfort. She puts the phone down and, after another throaty cough, huddles herself into a ball, her knees tucked into her chest as she pulls the duvet tight around herself and closes her eyes to sleep. The ceiling spins around her as her body slowly succumbs to exhaustion.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to arrive at her apartment. Using your keys, you let yourselves in. It was so quiet... Wanda went over to her kitchen and took Nat’s soup from the carrier bag and placed it into the microwave, you didn’t want it to lose its heat in the meantime. After that, the two of you carefully made your way up towards her room. As you gently pushed open the door, the sound of Nat’s small congested snores met your ears, leading to you look over at Wanda and give a sympathetic pout. Speaking of her room, its usual tidiness was a thing of the past. The outfit she’d laid out the previous night was still hung over her closet whilst a mess of stray tissues lay scattered across her bed. You came to her side, letting your palm rest over her forehead - her skin is hot and clammy, a stark contrast to your own.

“She’s so warm.” You silently mouthed over to your other girlfriend who was currently picking up the tissues and throwing them into the close by trashcan. As she tosses and turns in her sleep, you and Wanda exchange a look. It's silent, sympathetic. And the pair of you decided to let her sleep for a little longer, neither one of you wanting to be the one to pull her from her rest.

But it's not long before the pair of you begin to hear the subtle gurgles of an empty stomach and the gentle, lazy shifting of a half-conscious body as Nat slowly wakes up. She rolls over and to her surprise finds her herself in your arms.

“Hi baby,” You whisper, bringing up your hand to help her sit up a little, “How are you feeling my love?” You asked as Wanda came to sit on the edge of the bed next to Nat as she ran her own hand down the redhead’s back whilst led her to realise that she’d been sweating, a lot.

"Mm" Natasha mumbled something groggily, her face squirming with misery as she moves her head down as she coughs thickly and deeply against her pillow, “mm sick.”

“Sweetie we know that,” Wanda soothes her, “We came over to look after you, isnt that right?” She smiled, looking over to you.

“Wanda’s right baby, we’re both here to take care of you, okay?” You muttered down against Nat’s hair as she sniffled but looked up when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“She’s gonna need to change clothes.” Wanda whispered to you, nodding down to her damp pyjamas, “That can’t be comfortable. I’ll help her change if you can put some fresh sheets on too.”

You nodded understandingly, “Natty, baby, we’re gonna get you cleaned up a little, okay?” You explained as you shuffled out of the bed.

Nat only shrugged, your voices felt so far away, like distant echos. The next thing she knew, Wanda had her arms around her waist, gently hoisting her up out of the bed and placing her down on the nearby chair. As you began to strip the bed, Wanda went over to the bathroom and ran a towel under cold water before using it to softly wipe Nat down – the coolness of the fabric felt amazing against her hot skin and by the time you’d finished putting on some clean bedsheets, Nat was in fresh, thin pyjamas’ sniffling quietly as Wanda re-braided her hair.

“There we go sweetie, all done. Let’s get you back into bed.” Wanda whispered once she had finished and once again, she let Nat lean on her as she got her into the bed.

“Thanks.” Natasha sniffled as she got back into a comfortable position. Once she was back under the covers, she gave you a shy little smile and reached for your hand, lacing your fingers together, “I love you both.”

“And we love you too baby, Happy Valentines Day sweetie.” You smiled as both yourself and Wanda climbed into the open spots beside her, the two of you wrapping up beside the sniffly redhead. There's something that just feels right about the three of you as you snuggle. Nat's warmth seeps through her soft clothing and is soon absorbed into your skin, spreading a cosy calm over you. It radiates up through your chest and into your head.

"Happy Valentine's Day..." Nat sniffles, her eyes closing as she curls up into you both. And as the three of you share some very sweets words between each other, it wasn’t long before fatigue won her over and Nat began to softly doze off to sleep. Afterall, it didn’t matter what day it was, or where you were. As long as the three of you were together everything would be okay.

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