#anyway i have...............Nothing to say for myself

[dronningreid]

6 AM

After a good night of free drinks at a bar, reader wakes up in a bed that looks nothing like her own. Maybe that mistake isn't so bad after all.

who? Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

category: smut (that sounds really bad 😭) and flangst? (my specialty). Whatever (+18) (But it ISN'T the main focus)

warnings: unprotected sex, oral (f! receives), mentions of alcohol and hangover and I think that's it. English is not my first language.

word count: 2.5K

a/n: Writing this made me feel shame and laugh 😭 Anyway, I hope you like this. I stole the title from a song that I almost don't like but it's very this. I also sacrificed myself for the team by getting drunk on Christmas to write this better (it wasn't a good experience, but what am I saying? I'm very committed to my work). Oh and happy almost new year!

Every story has a beginning and how much you wish you could remember the beginning of this.

A ray of sunshine.

That's what woke you up, a ray of sunshine. But not the kind that sneak in through the window and burn your eyes even when they are closed. What woke you up was the warmth of the arm that wrapped around your torso from behind, that kind of sunshine.

You look at the clock and it's damn 6 AM. You didn't expect to start the year so early but there you were.

You relaxed when you feel a warm breath touching your skin. For a moment you felt so fine, until that horrible headache made it difficult to make sense of where you were, but you could remember the ghostly sensations, the pressure against the mattress, his hands running over every corner of your skin and the way the sheets molded with every movement.

You craned your head slightly to get some clues about your surroundings and then the clothes on the floor became visible in your field of vision.

Damn it.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened the night before.

You tried to get out of the grip of the mysterious man you spent the night with, but...

He pulled you towards him again, this time with more force. "Please don't go." He pleaded, but he was still somewhat asleep.

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

You recognized that beautiful voice immediately. It being a random guy was a bad thing but Spencer? that was worse.

A wave of panic and guilt ran through you. Now what the hell were you going to do?

You looked at him sideways, first at his lips, and just looking at them made you remember how they felt on your skin.

And then you saw his nose...

"Spence." You whispered in the darkness, you couldn't see him but of course you could feel him.

His hands were resting on your thighs, while his tongue took everything so well like a good boy. But his nose, his nose was buried deep in you, rubbing against your sensitive clit.

Were you dizzy from the pleasure or from the alcohol? Maybe both.

Your fingers tangled in his locks, causing his moan to echo through your walls. That made you shiver, but god it felt so good.

His tongue continued to play through the wetness and when you looked at him you knew that you had let him cross boundaries that a friend should never cross. But you were too drunk to tell him to stop? No, that was an excuse, because in reality both been drunk a lot.

You let him continue for the pleasure and because he was Spencer. There was no one else on this earth you could trust enough to do something so intimate, so personal.

He tightened his grip on your thighs as his tongue movements became more desperate. And he didn't stop until he had you cumming in his mouth.

You blinked a few times before coming back to the present, your memories were so fragmented at the moment that it was best not to put pressure on your mind.

Spencer looked so calm while was asleep, you didn't even know why but you started counting his eyelashes.

That would have been a perfect morning. But one question kept nagging at your brain. How did you get into his bed?

Very simple, it all happened while everyone was on the jet, returning from a case.

"I just hope there isn't another case. It's New Year's Eve, we should be celebrating and not catching serial killers." Emily said. "I'll ask for a raise." Then she brought the glass of whiskey to her mouth.

"Prentiss, you haven't even been with us that long." Morgan let out a light laugh.

"It's been a tough year." You supported Emily. And it was true, Elle and Gideon left a void that no new face could fill. But luckily Emily was Emily, Rossi was Rossi. Neither of them intended to fill the void they left.

"Yes indeed," Rossi added to the conversation. "Drinks at O'Keefe on me, who's coming?" And there was the monetary contribution, maybe your favorite thing about him?

You, Emily and Morgan were quick to raise your hands.

Hotch laughed lightly. "I'll pass, I want to visit Jack."

You stood up from your seat on the jet to approach Reid. "And you? Come?" You gave him a slight nudge with your shoulder. "Or you have a secret son that I don't know about."

Reid shook his head in amusement before setting his book down on his lap. "I don't know, I'm tired."

"Come on." You gave him puppy dog eyes. "And I'll take you back to your apartment."

"Don't know..." He bit his lower lip.

"Oh come on, who's gonna tell me random facts all night? Morgan?" You insistent.

"I heard you!" Morgan shouted from the other side of the jet.

Reid chuckled. "Of course not, that's my place in your life. Besides, he already has Penelope."

You looked at him with hopeful eyes. "So you're coming?"

He shrugged. "I haven't another choice."

One, two, three. Happy New Year!

By that time you and him were already so drunk. Everything was spinning around and both had laughed at every stupid thing Morgan said, that wasn't a very good sign.

You helped Reid into the taxi, almost falling with him in the process. When you left him in the back seat he looked at you, with a pout.

"You said you were going to take me home!" He spoke very loudly, without meaning to.

"If you want to die then let's go in my car." Your words dragged on.

He shook his head and patted his seat. "I'm not going to let you drive. Come on, get in."

You sighed but finally agreed and got into the taxi with him.

He fell asleep with his head resting on your shoulder, it felt so comforting that you didn't even notice when you fell asleep.

After a few minutes the taxi driver spoke. "We're here."

You opened your eyes suddenly.

"Hey... Are you awake?" Spencer whispered, leaving a soft, brief kiss on your shoulder.

You didn't answer anything, hoping that... Who knows what the hell you were hoping for. A miracle maybe.

Spencer said your name, his tone oddly serious. "Can we skip the part where we pretend we don't sleep together and we can just talk about this?"

He kissed your neck and your hand ran over his exposed torso. "Can we skip the part where we do this and you can just get between my legs now?" Alcohol makes the braves.

Reid smiled against your skin. "Anything you want."

He moved away a little just to separate your thighs and settle between them.

Reid placed his hands on either side of your head, you watched him intently waiting for what would come out of his lips.

"I'll stop whenever you want, okay?" Even a little drunk he was a gentleman.

You nodded hurriedly, eager to feel your walls mold to his size.

Then he slowly pushed his hips against yours, his tip passing through your folds with ease due to all the wetness and for the same reason he clings to the sheets so as not to slip completely inside you.

His breathing is a mess, your breathing is a mess.

You stretch around him and when you are comfortable with him, then his hips and yours begin to move at a constant and slow rhythm.

He moves down to place kisses along your neck, moving up to your jaw, and then you reach for his hand. He immediately laces his fingers through yours, pinning you under him against the mattress.

His lips reach yours, at first the kiss is slow as are both of your movements but it is that the kiss increases in tone. His tongue battles yours, his grip on your hand tightens, and the movements of his hips become more frantic, almost desperate for release.

The friction has already left you too sensitive and also eager for some relief, so you wrap your legs around his hips to have him closer.

His cock starts to pound all the way in. The overwhelming pleasure makes your nails dig into his back and he breaks away from the kiss to let out a beautiful moan.

The bed creaks, accompanying the desperate moans and labored breathing of both.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

You move under the sheets until you are facing him. But that was a worse idea than you anticipated.

Confronting him after all the images you have of him in your memory feels like someone has just punched the air out of your lungs.

"To begin with, do you remember anything?" He breaks the thick silence, again.

"Fragments." Your voice comes out as a shameful whisper.

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "Me too..." He whispers too. "But I do remember that you tried to leave me in the morning."

"Oh..."

Really? Was that the only thing that could come out of your mouth?

Reid sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment that seemed like an eternity. "Listen, I know this might be awkward but please don't go..." A pang ran through your chest as you saw his pleading eyes. "We don't even have to talk about it."

"Okay..." He sigh of relief at your answer.

But as a cruel joke of life someone knocked on the door, ruining the conversation for Spencer and bringing a postponement for you.

Reid sighed before reluctantly unwrapping his arms from you. "I'm sorry. I... I have to go." He said before getting out of bed.

Last night probably, no, definitely last night you saw him to the soul, but still this time you stared at the ceiling until he got dressed in pajama pants and a gray t-shirt.

He left the room leaving you alone on his bed, naked. Wow, that was something unexpected.

You stood there for a few moments, before wondering what the hell you were doing?

You rubbed your face with your hands as many questions collided in your mind, all eager to capture your attention while you didn't even want to think about it.

What does it mean to sleep with Spencer Reid? He was one of your longest friendships and just by letting him spend one night everything is ruined.

He was acting so casual, like waking up with you was something so normal...

But you didn't even know how to name this. Because, after all, what was this?

You got out of bed and immediately searched the floor for your clothes. You found almost all of them at least.

Once dressed and half combed, you decided to leave the room and try to get out of Spencer's apartment.

But it was such a stupid idea considering it wasn't just you and him in the apartment. Even though you thought you were going to get out of this alive when you saw Reid's back turned to the door.

"Who do we have here?" Morgan's voice was enough for Reid to see you and you to see him.

You had been caught red-handed.

Reid frowned. "You were leaving?"

You stammered a bit before deciding to stop embarrassing yourself and close your mouth.

Morgan's gaze traveled from Reid to you and back to you before figuring out what was happening or at least what had happened.

"Wait guys... Both had sex?" Morgan whispered, trying to be discreet, something that was definitely unusual for him, but not the strangest thing today.

You let out a nervous laugh. "We? Of course not!" You rush to say.

Reid's frown deepened. "We don't?" He said with a hint of mockery and another of bitterness.

No one knew what to say for a while, but the only one in trouble was you.

Morgan stood up from the couch. "Yeah... I think I'd better get going."

Spencer didn't say anything, not even when the door closed behind Morgan. He just looked at you with severity, a severity that disguised his vulnerability. How vulnerable he was before you, as if his heart was exposed on a silver platter.

You weren't willing to talk and he felt like he had already said too much, so the silence between you only grew thicker.

Reid snorted. "For the love of god, just say something!" He swallowed. "Say something, whatever. That I'm bad in bed, that what happened was a one night stand, or that you just tried to run away because you're afraid that if you stay you'll have feelings for me." He try with all his might to keep the tears in place.

You shook your head at his first sentences, but perhaps the last was right. "I... Am I hurting you with this?" Maybe it wasn't the best question, but at least you were honest this time.

He looked away, debating what he should or should not say. "Yes... Yes, you're hurting me." Spencer didn't understand how the words managed to slip through the thick lump in his throat.

Guilt and you were never good friends. "Yes, maybe I'm starting to feel something for you beyond a friendship, maybe I already felt it before. I don't know... I'm scared."

Spencer hesitated but finally took a step in front of you. "I'm scared too." He whispered.

You hesitated for a minute but finally put your arms around him. At that moment you just needed the warmth that his arms could give you.

Reid hated how easily he hugged you back, you were close to abandon him...

"I'm sorry." You murmured as you held onto him.

He places a kiss on the top of your head before rubbing your back. "Just don't exclude me from this, let us both figure out together what's going on here, okay?"

"I promise." You tilted your head back to look at him.

"Changing the subject." Spencer looked at you intently, were his eyes always so beautiful? "Did you see my bra? I couldn't find it while I was getting dressed."

"Oh." Spencer nodded and his cheeks quickly turning a pinkish color. "I kicked it under the couch when Morgan knocked on the door.'

Neither he or you remembered how your bra had gotten there. But it happened while the messy make-out session was going on.

Reid broke the kiss and slipped his hand inside your shirt, stopping until he reached the clasp of your bra. "Can I take it off?" He looked at you with pleading eyes.

"Of course." You tilted your head towards him, not willing to leave his lips for long.

He gave you a couple of short kisses while unbuttoning your bra. "I love you." He murmured against your lips.

"I love you too." Your statement came out as a gasp when he pressed his lips against yours more intensely.

Both were drunk when they said such important words, yes, but isn't it said that drunks always tell the truth?

[yamumsyadadd]

We meet again

a/n: talks of homophobia, ignore this if that isn’t your thing.

happy New Year’s Eve, it’s 9pm where I live so this will be my last fic of 2024 ;) stay safe, have fun!

It was a warm evening in Barcelona when I saw you again. I still loved you, not that you ever really knew, or maybe you did. 

You were sitting there in the restaurant with your friends. I was there too, waiting for a guy I barely knew but was giving a chance because my father had begged me to. 

It was the same routine. Giving them a ‘chance’ knowing I’d stopped talking to them. I started to realise that I was waiting for you. A forbidden love. 

You hadn’t noticed me yet, I of course noticed you, I always did. My date arrived and we sat down. He was different to you, they all were. Blonde, clean cut, men. I tried not to glance over at you. 

I engaged in conversation, I smiled, I laughed. I did everything you’re supposed to do on a date. But I couldn’t help stealing glancing at you. 

You got up to use the bathroom and as you walked by my table, that’s when you finally saw me. You stopped dead in your tracks, then slowly made your way to me. 

“Hey I’m sorry for interrupting, I didn’t see you walk in. How are you?” You asked, eyes genuine, truly curious. 

“Oh I’m good. I didn’t see you either!” I laughed even though it was a lie, somehow I find you in every room, every stadium. 

You look at my date and introduce yourself, you never need an introduction, everyone knows who you are but you do it anyway. “I was just heading to the restroom but let’s catch up soon.” You smiled, the kind of smile that isn’t real, just polite. 

“Yeah let’s.” You walk away, and I allow myself to breathe again. I smile at my date and we continue on. I keep thinking about you, I must be a horrible person. A good looking, well educated man sitting in front of me and all I can think about is you, you with the tattoos, the long black hair and cocky smile. The fingers that can make me forget my name. 

When you get back to your seat, we make eye contact, you smile then turn back to your friends. I recognise them all, how could I not. Alexia sits with Olga, Irene with Lucia, Patri and Claudia huddled together listening to whatever drama Maria and Leila have to share. 

There’s this weird thing about loving someone who you never got to love openly. A frightening feeling that your feelings won’t be shared. And a harbouring desire to scream them at you. 

It becomes suffocating knowing it is everything you want but wanting to protect your heart because you’re tired of people not feeling them same or being ashamed. Jenni loved the same way you did, loud, unapologetic and all consuming. No man your father picks could do that. Because no man was Jenni. 

Because of that, it becomes easier to stay quiet. To love from afar, scrolling through her instagram late at night, the shared photos, the messages. To love from a distance is to play it safe. 

My date eventually comes to an end. We get up and walk out, you’re still there laughing loudly. I look back at you one more time and then leave with him. 

I say goodbye to my date, thank him for dinner. He’s a nice guy, and will make a girl happy but he isn’t you. No one is. I don’t know what I’m waiting for, I guess I’m always waiting for you, I shouldn’t though because you won’t come. You never do. 

As I continue my walk home, my phone chimes with a message. I pulled it out, expecting it to be from one of the girls asking about the date, but it’s from you. You texted me a simple ‘get home safe.’ 

I smile, eyes skimming past our last exchange. I text back a simple ‘I will thank you.’ I watch as you start to type more, then it disappears. I convince myself it’s nothing and continue on home and I think about you. I wonder if you think about me too. 

—————————————————————————

It was a tumultuous relationship. Plagued by fighting and jealousy. You were young, only 20 when you met her at some gala your parents were throwing. She was older, closer to 30 than you were to your teenage years. 

You’d seen her before, at one of the many parties your parents had through. She always excluded the same energy, she knew she was hot, and that made her cocky. Always with the same group of people, who you’d come to learn was the football team your parents loved. 

It was the third party they attended that you finally met. You were forced into conversation at the bar, you knew from that first interaction that you were doomed. 

Being gay wasn’t something that was spoken about within your family, they all knew but chose to ignore it. The phrase ‘you just haven’t met the right man’ was burned into your brain. Maybe you hadn’t, but you didn’t want to wait and find out. 

After the last party of the year, that happened to be the Christmas party, you left with her. the way her hand felt on your lower back, the grip her fingers had on your exposed skin, the way she made you chant her name like she was a god. It was addicting. 

Your friends hated her. While she was never outwardly rude to them, you’d always run to them after a fight. Telling them everything she said, leaving out how you were just as bad. But that’s what friends were for, right? 

Most of her friends discouraged the relationship, Jenni loved loudly and unapologetically, you did not. It was two different words, she was a star footballer, older and wiser. You were just some rich kid who had barely started their adult life. 

After a toxic and bitter end to the 18 month relationship, she left for Mexico. Not even bothering to say goodbye. Your heart shattered into pieces. The final words she spoke to you playing over in your mind for months. 

“I’m done loving someone who won’t love me back.” It’s not that you didn’t love her, the opposite in fact, it was that you never said it. She said it within the first few months, and every time it filled you with a sense of dread. 

How would you explain it to your family? The consequences of your love would outweigh anything else, so you kept quiet. 

The multiple parties a year continued on, the Barcelona players continued to come and you’d do everything in your power to steer clear of them. Occasionally it wouldn’t work and you’d be stuck with some of them for a photo or whatever. Alexia and Irene watched you sympathetically, you hated it. 

————————————————————————

Jenni’s pov 

The air in the restaurant was charged. Like two magnets trying to join each other but I couldn’t figure why, until I saw you. 

At first I didn’t think it was you. It had been two years since I last saw you. You were older now, more elegant, still as beautiful as ever maybe even more. But then I realised you were with someone. 

A man, who was the complete opposite of me. He was blonde, no doubt rich, clean cut and probably reached of over priced cologne.

I realised, half way to the bathroom that I’d have to walk past you to get there and took a chance. 

“Hey, I’m sorry for interrupting, I didn’t see you walk in. How are you?” I asked. 

“Oh I’m good! I didn’t see you either.” You laughed and looked down. You were lying. Anytime you lied, you would look down and fidget. It was your tell. 

I introduced myself to your date, wanting nothing more than to be polite but I couldn’t help but feel jealous. For the entire 18 months of our relationship, this is what I wanted. To take you out on dates in the fancy clothes and enjoy the overpriced wine. But he got to instead. 

“I’m just heading to the restroom but let’s catch up soon.” I said, giving a small smile. 

“Yeah let’s.” I turned around and continued on to the bathroom. Gripping the sink tightly to calm myself down. It was ridiculous that after all this time, after all the girls, I still wanted you. I still loved you. 

When I returned to the table, I couldn’t help but look over at you and to my surprise you looked back at me. As I turned back to the girls, all I could think about was you. How it would feel to love you loudly like you deserved, to show you off to everyone. It wouldn’t happen though, it couldn’t. 

Most nights, from the comfort of my apartment in Mexico, I’d scroll through your burner instagram account. The one you parents didn’t know you had, it only had a select few on it and I’d like to think you kept me there for a reason, but it was likely you just forgot. 

I watched you leave with him, his hand sprawled across the small of your back like mine used too. You looked back a final time and then you were gone. Out of sight, but not out of mind. 

I took a few minutes before pulling out my phone, rereading the last few messages we had sent each other before sending a simple ‘get home safe.’ You replied quickly, you always did. I wanted to say more, tell you everything that had happened in the last 2 years, how much I still loved you, how no one was you, but I couldn’t. 

When Leila made a joke about me texting a girl, I shook my head and put my phone away. Alexia must’ve seen, giving my shoulder a squeeze and a sad smile. 

You were the one that got away. Maybe it’s better to love you from afar, I wish you nothing but happiness, even if that means finding happiness from someone else. 

—————————————————————————

The first party of the summer had arrived. As always it was a full on affair. Your parent’s house was decked out, over the top in your opinion. The older you got, the more insufferable these parties became. 

Other businessmen bought their wives and children, both the men’s and women’s team were there, celebrating the end of the season and their spectacle winning run. 

Tuxedos and ball gowns littered the main floor and the garden but you were stuck upstairs. A heavy weight weighing on your heart. You knew, the minute you went downstairs your father would try and introduce you to a man, your mother would be making comments about your appearance and your aunts would join in. 

The sound of knuckles on the door pulled you out of your thoughts. A few seconds later she was there, leaning on the doorway. Her usual cockiness was gone and replaced with what seemed to be anxiety. 

“Thought I’d find you here.” 

“What are you doing here? I thought you’d be in Mexico already?” 

“And miss this? Absolutely not.” She studied you with ease, reading you like a book, “your father is waiting for you. He has some guy he wants to introduce you too.” 

“Of course he does.” You stood up, smoothing down your dress. 

“Why don’t they stick?” Perhaps it was a thought she meant to keep in her head or she was actually curious. 

“What?” 

“The guys your father introduces you too? Why don’t they stick? You’re smart, elegant, attractive, so why don’t they stick?” 

“I don’t know.” You looked down towards the floor again. You knew, she knew, but she wanted you to say it. 

“You’re lying. Why don’t they stick?” She cocked an eyebrow, waiting for your reply. 

“Because none of them are you.” 

It was her turn to ask, and with bated breath she did, “what?” 

“None of them are you Jenni! You think I didn’t love you but I did! I do! My father can set me up with a hundred men but that’s a hundred people that aren’t you. So that’s why they don’t stick, because they aren’t you.” 

Her long legs crossed the room in what seemed to be milliseconds. Her lips smashed onto yours, hands holding your face tightly. It took a moment to register what was happening but when it did you couldn’t help up pull her closer. 

It could’ve been seconds or minutes that you were stuck in this battle of tongues and teeth but when the door opened you shoved her away from you, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

Your aunt Elsa was standing there, out of all the people she was the best one to catch you. Her own family, your father, considered her the black sheep of them family. Never fitting into the mould, wild and free. Loving whoever she wanted, loudly and unapologetically. It’s what you admire the most about her. 

“Your father is about to come up here and get you. You have two options.” You stared at her, confused, “option 1, you leave this room, separately and go enjoy the party. Option 2, you leave this room together, your father would be mad, your mother disappointed, the countless men waiting to meet you too. If you chose option 2, I have a friend in Mexico who can give you a place to stay, because you’ll need it. The fall out from this won’t be good. If you chose option 1, then we can walk out together, I won’t say anything ever and we’ll just pretend.” 

“I don’t want anyone else.” You blurted out, “I’ll have nothing. If I leave I have nothing.” 

“You’ll have me.” Jenni spoke up, “I can support us both, you can live with me.” 

“What if this doesn’t work out? What if it’s too good to be true?” 

“You won’t know unless you don’t try calabaza. If it truly doesn’t work out, then I’m still here. Being the black sheep.” Your aunt winked at you. “Take care of her Jennifer. I have a lot of money and can find you very quickly.” With that she left, you could hear her in the hallway, ushering your father back downstairs. 

“I’m scared.” It came out as a whisper. 

“I know. I am too. But we can do it together. If you don’t want to come to Mexico, you can stay at my apartment in Madrid or we can figure something out. Please just give us a shot. A proper shot.” It wasn’t often that Jenni begged for anything, usually she’d flash her charismatic smile and people would do as she asked. 

“Okay.” 

You left the room, together, hand in hand ready to face whatever was going to happen. The unknown is terrifying. You didn’t know how it would work with Jenni, what the future held, but she was there in your ear calming you down. 

When your father pulled you away she followed, when he exploded saying the relationship wasn’t right, she was there. She stood up for you against your parents, that’s when you realised you shouldn’t have waited so long. 

At the end of the day, all you needed was Jenni. It didn’t matter that your parents barely spoke to you, or that you were outcasted from your family. What mattered was right in front of you. 

[metalomagnetic]

cut scene from it runs in the blood

(this happens well before the resurrection)

He goes to his first concert since ‘81.

It’s good. Mary was right. Metallica is really great.

But it also destroys Sirius. He wasn’t ready.

He has a complicated relationship with music, anyway. His mother is teaching Orion to play the piano, tells the boys Sirius used to play so beautifully, but Sirius refuses to touch it.

He can’t even be in the same room when Orion plays. It just fills him with anguish.

He can tolerate music at parties, the fast and cheerful tempo, but otherwise he wants to kill himself if he hears a sorrowful piece on the piano.

And there are a number of songs, muggle songs, that would break him if he listened to them. Songs he played for Voldemort.

He actually checked to make sure this band, Metallica, did not use a piano. However, he severely underestimated the talent of the songwriter. He was so focused on avoiding pianos, he forgot how mournful a guitar can be, too.

Sirius hasn’t gone through a drunken rampage in years, but it comes so easily to him, and he embarks upon it the second ‘Fade to Black’ ends.

Complete black out.

He wakes up four days later, in Voldemort’s bed, and he’s not sure if it’s dawn or sunset, orange light spilling through the windows. He’s a mess, his clothes- and the sheets- are bloody, and he went to bed with the guitar, because it’s right next to him.

He smoked there, too, and for a second he winces, imaging what Voldemort would say if he were to see the sheets with burn holes in them, cigarettes stubs all over the floor, beside empty muggle alcohol bottles.

But whatever he’s been doing for the last four days, it must have exhausted him, because Sirius can’t feel anything. He’s numb, and tired, and it’s good.

He cleans himself up, and the house, puts the guitar back in the dresser, where Voldemort kept it, gives up on the sheets, there’s no saving them, so he vanishes them, replaces them with new ones.

Or tries to. He realises he never made a bed in his life, and he’s too tired to read about it in Voldemort’s household charm’s book.

Who’d have thought it would be so complicated?

It’s by no means perfect, but he does his best with it, throws the pillows and a blanket over the sheets and calls it a day.

When he checks under the bed to make sure there are no more cigarette stubs, he finds a piece of parchment, in his writing, stained with blood.

He finds the quill and the inkpot, too.

He has a flash of memory, writing down the lyrics that started this madness, trying to recall them, because he felt the masochistic need to sing them.

He puts the quill and inkpot back on the desk, where Voldemort kept them.

And, instead of throwing the paper with the lyrics away, Sirius shoves it into the drawer where Voldemort put all the lyrics Sirius used to write down.

He truly is tired, too tired to feel anything, but he gets a twist of vengeful satisfaction, imagining Voldemort coming back, hopefully once Sirius is long dead, years into the future, and finding this paper.

Getting lost within myself Nothing matters, no one else I have lost the will to live Simply nothing more to give There is nothing more for me Need the end to set me free

Things not what they used to be Missing one inside of me Deathly loss, this can’t be real I cannot stand this hell I feel Emptiness is filling me To the point of agony Growing darkness, taking dawn I was me, but now he’s gone

[azzifuddslover]

UNRAVEL - chapter three

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

tw: swearing, light self homophobia

themes: fluff, angst?

word count: 3.8k

a/n: i’m so sorry this chapter actually sucks ASS, kinda a filler to get to the next yk. i promise next chapter will be better i’m so excited to write it hehe 😛 anyway make sure to tell me how y’all like it, it honestly makes my whole day. enjoy 𝜗𝜚

FIVE MONTHS LATER

paige, who is now 17 years old, sinks into her cozy bed, the late afternoon light filtering through her window. she opens her phone, hitting the facetime app, heart racing as the familiar sound of the ring echoes throughout the silence of her room. only a moment later, azzi’s face appears, her hair tousled and a playful grin on her full lips.

“hey p,” azzi chirps, her eyes sparkling.

paige feels the underlying warmth spread in her chest. “hey az. how’d your day go?”

azzi shrugs her shoulders, glancing to her side. “i mean, it was alright. nothing too special happened.”

paige’s eyebrows pinch downwards, confusion settling in her expression. she knows azzi too well to know something happened— something worth mentioning.

“az, what happened?”

azzi is silent for a minute, taking the time to think back on the day she’s had. she bites the inside of her cheek, skin becoming tender and raw as she repeats this motion. “jayden… you remember him, right?”

paige rolls her eyes, “how could i forget,” she murmurs, annoyance laced in her tone.

the corners of azzi’s lips tip up, a smirk lurking on her face. “well, i ran into him today, at the movies. i was with my friend, and he wouldn’t stop bothering me.” azzi’s gaze drops to her bedroom floor, continuing, “when i finally told him to leave me alone, he called me a bitch, straight to my face.”

paige’s eyes widen, fury obvious on her features. her hands form fists, fingernails digging into her palms. “that fucking…” she trails off, not quite finding the word to describe him. nothing seems to capture the way she feels towards him at this very moment. “i’m so sorry, azzi. you shouldn’t have to put up with his shit. if he says anything else, please punch him in the face or i’ll do it myself.”

azzi chuckles, already feeling better now that she told her best friend. “oh really? what are you gonna do, fly down here and hunt him down?”

“if i was given the chance,” she smiles, although she is completely serious. she absolutely hates the thought of anyone being anything but nice to azzi— especially if being called names is involved. she desperately wishes she could’ve been there to defend azzi, to put jayden in his place.

“thank you, though. it’s nice knowing i have someone willing to defend me,” azzi says, voice low yet sincere.

“always,” paige says, meeting her eyes through the screen. god, she wants nothing more than to be with azzi right now— hug her tightly, soak up her warmth, press her lips to her soft skin.

the brunette leans against her bed, her curls framing her face. “i wish you were here,” she whispers.

“i wish i was there, too,” paige whispers back, scrunching her lips into a line.

a moment passes with the girls sitting in comfortable silence— paige shuts her eyes, tiredness slowly creeping in.

just as she’s about to let sleep overpower her, azzi speaks up, only loud enough for paige to hear. “what do you think we’d do if you were here, right now?”

paige bites her lip, opening her eyes to see half of the younger girl’s body in frame; she’s in tank top, no bra— paige’s cheeks redden at the sight. “i… don’t know, what would you wanna do?”

azzi shifts in her spot on her bed, “i would want to hug you first— obviously. hug you for hours, if i wished. i’d want to talk to you, in person, ‘cause it’s so different talking not being separated by a screen.”

paige nods, feeling the tension grow between them. “i agree, it is different. better.”

“right?” azzi says. “then i’d want to go to bed, watching a movie or something. not before we cuddle, of course— that’d be my favorite part.”

paige’s blush heightens, her face on fire at this point. she wants so badly for this to become reality; for her to be curled up next to azzi, feeling her body pressed up against hers. “mine too,” she mutters, hiding her face from azzi’s view.

paige begins to drift off, her exhaustion finally washing over her. azzi continues to stare at the blonde, admiration and longing coating her features.

minutes pass with azzi still watching her best friend, who’s sleeping peacefully with her lips slightly parted. azzi adjusts herself, making her position more cozy. a question suddenly forms in her head, deciding to speak up and wake paige.

“paige,” azzi shouts, causing stirs from the sleeping blonde. her eyes crinkle open, gazing down to her friend on the phone screen. “i have a question.”

“what’s up?” she replies, her voice is raspy and low.

“who was your first kiss with?”

paige’s eyes widen, as she is surprised azzi’s asking about anything related to her love life. red blossoms along her cheeks, since she automatically knows the answer, not needing to think about it.

“it was you,” she whispers, not meeting her eyes.

butterflies swirl in azzi’s stomach at her answer— one she did not expect. “that… that was your first kiss?” she asks, referring to their shared kiss all those months ago.

it’s unusual for them to bring up any slip up moments between them; they typically leave it alone, pretending it never happened in the first place.

“yeah,” she says, now embarrassed. “who was yours?”

azzi doesn’t hesitate, “it was you, too,” feeling sort of awkward.

paige scratches her head, unsure where this conversation is leading to. “i didn’t know that.”

“now you do,” she says, looking away.

silence stretches between them, heavy from the weight of the unspoken words. paige fidgets with her fingers, eyes wandering her room, as if searching for a distraction.

“i really didn’t think i was your first,” azzi finally speaks, her voice filled with something deeper, something indescribable.

“yeah, well.. it kinda just happened,” paige replies, pulse thumping. “guess we were caught up in the moment.”

azzi bites her lip, gaze flicking back to the blonde. “do you… regret it?”

paige lets a quiet sigh escape her lips, “no, az, i don’t.”

“me either,” the brunette agrees, “i’m glad it was you.”

paige’s breath hitches in her throat, not expecting those words to come out of her mouth. could azzi feel what she does? something more than friendship between them?

“me too,” paige says, “really glad.”

azzi doesn’t try to hide her smirk, pride bubbling around her. what she doesn’t tell paige, though, is just how glad she is that paige was her first. even more happy that azzi was hers. her mind constantly is taken back to the moment their lips connected— in a soft, meaningful kiss— causing her stomach to swirl with a deeper meaning, one she’s not ready to confront.

azzi’s eyelids slowly close, the world surrounding her being to fade until she’s fully asleep, with paige quietly sleeping on her phone, too.

paige sits on her bed, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tries to stifle her sobs. the sound of muffled crying echoes softly in her room.

suddenly, her bedroom door creaks open, and her mother steps in with a worried expression on her face, deepening as she stares at paige’s red eyes.

“paige, honey? what’s wrong?” she asks gently, her heart sinking at the sight of her daughter being so upset.

paige glances up at her mother, shallowing hard as nerves erupt in her stomach. she absolutely despises being caught so vulnerable, yet the weight of her feelings is quickly becoming unbearable for her to handle alone.

“mom..” paige whispers, unsure how to approach this conversation. “i think i’m…” just as she’s about to say it, she bursts into more sobs, her heart feeling abnormally heavy in her chest.

amy rubs her hand along paige’s arm, trying her best to soothe her daughter— to calm her down, somehow. “what is it? you’re worrying me, paige.”

paige draws her eyebrows together, taking a deep breath, preparing herself to say the words aloud.

“i think i’m inlove with azzi.”

amy smiles lightly, not seemed to be surprised whatsoever. she continues to run her hand up paige’s arm.

“please don’t hate me,” she says so softly amy thinks she must’ve imagined it. “i swear i tried to change— tried to change how i feel, but i can’t help it.”

“baby,” her heart breaking even more, “i would never hate you over someone you love. love is complicated— it’s okay to feel this way.”

paige wipes her eyes, the tension in her chest slowly easing. “i’m so scared azzi doesn’t feel the same,” she mutters, fear running through her veins, “what if i ruin everything?”

“paige, love is scary, but honesty is important,” amy replies, “you won’t know until you talk with her about it. but i don’t think you should worry about it too much— i’ve seen the way azzi looks at you.”

paige’s head snaps up, confusion swirling in her eyes. “what are you talking about?”

amy tilts her head, her smile only growing. “oh paige,” she sighs, “i’m sure you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

with that, amy leans down and lays a quick, motherly kiss on her daughter’s forehead, before getting up and walking towards the bedroom door.

paige watches her leave, with her lips parted, confusion still evident. she tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, her mind continuing to race from their previous conversation. what did she mean, the way she looks at you? paige is positive azzi doesn’t like her like that— her being nothing more than a good friend. she’s never said or done anything— besides their one slip up moment— to make paige think otherwise.

yet the harsh reality of azzi not feeling the way paige does still hurts more than imaginable. she doesn’t know if she can continue to only be friends with her, when she wants nothing more than to break through the friendship walls, developing into something more.

exhausted from all her crying, paige allows her eyes to shut, her world fading away into complete darkness.

FLASHBACK FROM USA BASKETBALL

paige bounces the ball repeatedly on the floor, listening to only the rubber hitting the hardwood and her chattering teammates from across the room. she’s practicing alone— due to the fact azzi hasn’t arrived quite yet— trying to perfect her shooting form before today’s game begins. each bounce grounds her, while her mind continues to race with thoughts of the upcoming game. she adjusts her stance, focusing on her grip and the arc of her shots. the conversations between her USA basketball teammates begin to fade into a background hum as she loses herself in the rhythm of the ball.

with each swish of the net, she feels a rush of confidence, imagining the scoreboard increasing in their favor.

as she inhales a deep breath and lines up another shot, the gym door swings open, and azzi— her best friend— strolls in.

the curly brunette places her belongings in the locker room, before coming out and immediately walking over to where paige is practicing.

“hey p!” azzi smiles at the blonde, “you ready for today’s game?”

paige matches her grin, eyes crinkling, “always.”

paige bounces the basketball over to azzi, to which she lines up at the 3 point line, adjusting her stance and throws it up with her perfect form. of course, the ball swishes through, barely hitting the rim.

“do you ever miss?” paige notes, playfully rolling her eyes at how talented azzi truly is.

“never,” azzi jokes, letting out a small chuckle at paige’s comment.

azzi can’t even explain how much she enjoys paige’s presence— regardless of the fact they only met two months ago. from the moment paige had the courage to walk up to azzi at the first tryouts, there was an unspoken, unexpected connection between the two. azzi loved the way paige approached the game with passion and determination, always pushing her to be better. and even though paige was constantly trying to improve azzi’s game, she would never miss an opportunity to compliment her— telling her how well her shooting really is, how good of a defender she is. azzi wholeheartedly loves that about her.

the coach eventually orders the team to line up, stretch, and begin warming up in preparation for the game in only an hour. throughout the course of their warm ups, paige would occasionally steal glances at azzi, trying to make out the unfamiliar feelings she got whenever she would simply look at her.

the game soon arrived, and the energy in the gym shifted. the buzz of anticipation fills the air as the crowd settles into their spots. paige feels her heart race, not just from the excitement of the game, but also from her connection with azzi.

as the whistle blew, paige takes her position as point guard on the court, adrenaline coursing through her veins. she makes sure to keep an eye on her friend, who radiates with a silent but determined confidence. each basket or play azzi made, paige felt a mix of admiration and something deeper— something she couldn’t quite name.

the game progresses, each play heightening with intensity. paige’s focus was unwavering as she executes her plays— passing to her open teammates as well as shooting some of her own— but she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was about more than just basketball for her. when her and azzi shared glances from across the court, quick but encouraging, it felt like they had some sort of secret language, one that strengthened their bond.

as the third quarter riles down, paige finds herself winding down, letting the pace of the game slow. her gaze naturally locks on the brunette in the corner, then back up at the time— 5 seconds remaining. she throws it over to azzi, who’s already positioned at the 3 point line. she lets the ball leave her hands at a picture perfect arc, swooshing through the net.

the crowd erupts in cheers as the buzzer goes off, indicating the end of the third quarter. the players make their way to the bench, paige automatically rushing for the spot next to azzi. she wraps one arm around her friend’s shoulders, leaning in close.

“that was fucking incredible,” she says, a smile lingering on her lips.

azzi can’t help but blush at her words and the sincerity behind them. she looks down, yet can’t stop the growing grin on her face. she leans into paige’s touch, moving her legs closer so they brush against the blonde’s.

the smile paige wears spreads wider, her eyes crinkling at their closeness.

the two girls don’t pull away until the fourth quarter begins, both running out onto the court, into their positions to finish off the game. the memory of azzi’s leg on hers replays in paige’s mind— she doesn’t quite understand how something so insignificant, so small could have such an affect on her, yet it does.

the USA basketball match eventually comes to a close, with the team winning by 30 points— azzi secured 20 of her own, while paige had a close 18. the girls share rushed hugs before getting their belongings and walking back to the locker room. the exhilaration of the win buzzes off the team, soaking up the high.

once each player reaches the locker room, paige packs up her bag, silent but pleased with her performance. azzi does the same, all with a little smile in her expression.

after stuffing her belongings in her backpack, azzi casually walks over to her friend, eyes locked on her frame.

“hey p,” azzi says, “wanna hangout later?”

paige looks up at the brunette, who’s hair is slightly messy from the game but in a way she adores. “obviously,” she replies, like it was the stupidest question in the world. “what time you thinking?”

azzi glances around, thinking quietly to herself. “uh, maybe like 8? whenever you want.”

“that works with me,” paige answers, nodding her head.

the two girls walk out of the locker room, side by side, excitement radiating off them for them being together later. they’ve hung out almost everyday of the whole USA basketball season— ever since their meet back at the first tryout day— getting to know each other, finding themselves enjoying one another’s company more and more.

the night rolls around— 7:45, to be exact. paige changes into more comfortable clothing, a nike hoodie paired with sweatpants, along with her favorite slides she wears on the daily. her mother is already asleep quietly on the hotel bed, so she doesn’t worry about telling her she’s going to see azzi— not that she’d try to stop her.

she heads down to the hotel lobby, glancing around, looking for a familiar brunette. when she doesn’t see her, she pulls out her phone.

where u at? she hits send.

two minutes ago by with no response, only leaving paige more confused and wondering where she could be. she figures she’s still in her room, considering she did say 8, and she’s a little bit early—

those thoughts are cut off when a hand gently touches her back, fingers slightly gripping her hoodie.

“hey,” azzi smiles at paige, her dimples making an appearance. paige stares at her, in awe of her natural beauty.

“az,” paige whispers, trying to ignore how her heart races from azzi’s touch, “i was wondering where you were.”

the brunette laughs, eyes locked with paige’s blue ones. her hand lingers on paige’s back, the grip on her hoodie only deepening.

the two girls walk towards the hotel doors, where they’re met with a windy breeze of the night. when azzi figures her hand on paige’s back was too much, she lets go— but the blonde already misses her warm touch, so she throws her arm around her shoulders, pulling their bodies a little closer.

the cool of the evening air wraps around them, invigorating and fresh. unsure of where they’re walking to, azzi speaks up.

“where are we going?” azzi questions, turning her head to look at the girl, who’s only mere inches away.

“uh, i’m not sure,” paige trails off, “there’s a park near here. wanna go there?”

“sure, that’s fine.”

the pair continues their walk, not bothering to make conversation as they are comfortable in the silence. as they stroll through the softly lit streets, the quiet of the evening envelops them, punctuated only by the rustle of leaves. the park comes into view, which luckily has no one around.

azzi lets out a small sigh, feeling a sense of calming around her. she leaves paige’s arm that was once wrapped around her shoulders to walk over to the swing set.

she sits on an empty swing, glancing around at her surroundings— the dim light casting soft shadows across the ground. the air is crisp, and the faint smell of grass fills her lungs. azzi gently sways back and forth, her feet barely grazing the ground.

paige watches her for a moment, a smile creeping onto her face. she quickly joins her, taking the swing right next to her.

“what’s been your favorite part of this whole USA thing?” azzi suddenly asks, turning her head towards the blonde.

paige doesn’t need to think about her answer. “meeting you,” she whispers, eyes locking with azzi’s.

butterflies erupt in the younger girl’s stomach, her smile dropping as heat creeps up her neck. she didn’t expect paige to say something quite like that.

the silence between them lingers for a minute, before paige gets up, walking until she reaches a patch of empty grass.

azzi, confused, scrunches her eyebrows downward. she hesitantly stands, joining her friend. paige lies down on the grass— azzi soon joins her, their shoulders barely touching yet the little contact still sends shivers down her spine. they lay there, looking up at the vast night sky dotted with stars.

with the moon casting a light on azzi’s face, paige turns her head to face her, eyes solely focused on the girl beside her. her profile is illuminated by the moonlight, making her features pop. and in this moment, in this lighting, she figures she could stay here forever— right alongside azzi, her best friend, who has never looked prettier.

“it’s beautiful,” azzi whispers, her voice light as she takes in the scene.

“yeah, it really is,” paige replies, although her gaze is on azzi.

a comfortable silence suffocates them once again, but this time it feels charged. paige’s thoughts drift as she painfully tears her eyes off the girl besides her, looking back up at the sky. her heart flutters in a way that’s both exhilarating and terrifying, trying to navigate her feelings that’s making her question if she only views azzi as strictly a friend.

despite the burning tension, azzi reaches for the blonde’s hand, intertwining their fingers tightly.

“meeting you was my favorite, too,” azzi whispers so lightly, paige wonders if she actually said it. “everytime i’m with you, everything feels more alive. i feel more alive. i never knew i could feel that way.”

paige swears her heart stops in her chest in this moment— she forgets to breath as she’s so taken aback at azzi’s words. she squeezes the brunette’s hand, her thumb gently rubbing the knuckles. she looks over at azzi, her lips parted, still in shock.

she turns her body to lay on her side, fully facing the girl. her eyes never waver as she stares at azzi, holding her heart in her hands.

azzi matches her doing, shifting onto her side, facing the older girl as well. she rests her head on one hand, while the other is still clutching paige’s in a strong grip.

in this moment, in the darkness with the moonlight casting a light on the pair, paige realizes she’s inlove with her. inlove with the girl in front of her, her closest friend— azzi. every shared laugh, every whispered secret, every lingering glance floods her mind, reshaping their memories into something deeper, something she never had the courage to confront. the way azzi’s dimply smile brightens the night and the warmth of her presence feels like home, igniting a fire within paige that she can no longer ignore.

as she watches azzi, illuminated by the silvery glow, a rush of hope and fear intertwines in her chest, knowing deep down that this realization has the potential to change everything between them.

the air is thick with unspoken words, a tension that both excites and scares her senseless, leaving her suspended in a moment that feels like an ending, but also a beginning.

[angelicwh1spers]

— ⋅˚₊‧ 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ‧₊˚ ⋅ —

— 𝐀cademic 𝐑ival 𝐂hristopher x 𝐀cademic 𝐑ival 𝐑eader

𝐈n 𝐜onclusion… before taking a very important test, you and Chris decided to make a bet on who would get the higher score, the person with the lower score would have to do anything the person with the higher score wanted them to do, and unfortunately you got one percent lower than Chris…

𝐖arnings… [ SUGGESTIVE&ANGST ] , swearing , allergic reaction , burning stuff , steamy makeout session ,

⚠︎ 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐒 - English is not my first language so excuse and dismiss any minor mistakes in my writing, I’m fairly new to writing on tumblr but it’s always been my passion to create stories and envelop myself inside of the world of fiction.

⟡ ݁₊ “𝐘ou seriously think you can beat me?” You huff, holding in your laughter as the chill autumn breeze hits your skin as Chris tries to claim he can beat you at the upcoming test today by getting a higher grade, it almost felt pathetic to be hearing such words even dare to be spoken by him in your presence. “Scared you’ll loose the bet?” He taunts, leaning his back against the railing of the staircase located at the entrance to the campus, one of his many favorite brown leather jacket protecting him from the soft breeze. You chuckle at his immediate assumption, you loosing a silly little bet for the higher score? “Me? Scared? Who do you think I am, a dumbass like you?”

“Oh you’re so high and mighty, I can’t wait to see your face when you loose.” A mocking smirk tugs on the corner of his mouth as you just roll your eyes at his smartass remark, maybe he isn’t a total dumbass but definitely is a goddamn bastard. And why does he have to look so good in that jacket today? “You wish, I never loose. Why do you think I’m on top of the class? I earned it, get ready to do whatever I say after this test, loser.” I state, he chuckles softly before running a hand through his brown messy hair, you could see the slight shift in his demeanor, now appearing more determined and set on one obvious goal. “Yeah, I think you meant you were getting ready to do whatever I say, hm?”

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

During the remainder of the day, you two made it each others mission to sabotage the other in anyway possible so they would fail the test, first it started harmless with distracting each other from studying but progressively got more intense and rude but to you two it felt as if it was just another day…

— allergic reaction.

You finally have sat down with your friends, chatting and laughing as jokes and stories were thrown between the group, while you were taking out your already prepared lunch, out of the corner of your eye you noticed Chris smirking ear to ear right at you while talking with his own friend group at their table. You brushed off his stare and continued with your lunch, but when you took the first bite and it went down your throat, something didn’t feel right, your throat started to close up and your breath coming in short puffs and then you realized you were having an allergic reaction, a million questions rise inside of your mind on how this could have happened, you precisely made sure there was nothing you were allergic to inside of your lunch. Then Chris’s little smirk flashes in your mind and already know who was behind this, thank god you had your epipen in your bag. You knew you couldn’t go to the nurse since she would send you home, so you had to live through the pain for the remainder of the day until the test, one day you swear you will not hesitate to kill him.

— burning pile.

Throwing in the last piece of paper you needed to be complete, you watched as the hot flames immediately roared to life, intensifying the already big fire created from Chris’s important notes he had ready for todays test and you also decided to burn some other ones he had in his book bag, from your taken spot you could hear most of the things happening in the school, especially where Chris currently was from the open window and could hear frustrated footsteps stomping throughout the school and just laugh at his immediate reaction, waiting for him to make it to where you were. A half-finished lit cigarette hanging from the corner of your mouth as you see a familiar voice call out your name and already knowing who it is, "Y/n! Give me my notes back, you know those are—" He cuts off his own words by the sight of his notes being a burning pile right in front of him, a mocking smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth, taking the last drag of my cigarette and throwing it into the flames to disintegrate, "Ups! I thought these were useless" you say with fake "I'm gonna literally gonna murder you."

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

Chris won the stupid bet, getting a 100% overpowering your 99% on the test and him waving the test in your face, but the thing he asked you to do wasnt something you expected at the very least…

His hands rest on your waist as you two stumble into the kitchen, being all over each other as an intense make out was currently happening between you two, he softly pushes your back into the counter before they tighten its grip and lift you up to sit you down on the counter for better access as your lips which never separate from each other and don’t seem like they will any time soon, your arms wrap around his neck while his rest right above your hips but they keep wandering all over your lower body. Somehow you two ended up in this situation, but you’re certainly not complaining much, the way the feeling of his lips on yours and how your tongues danced together just made a shiver run down your spine, it almost felt like a drug that you felt you needed more of each second.

“Still bitter about loosing that bet? Princess was finally pushed off her high and mighty stool?” He teases, speaking between kisses which became slight messy as he talked but soon gone back to normal, “Maybe, but you have to make it up to me for that allergic reaction.” I answer, still feeling the bitter-sweet taste of losing now being overpowered by the taste of Chris’s mouth on mine. The only time we would pull away from each other was for short breaths before returning right back, you didn’t know for how long you two were like this but it’s not like someone was counting your time nor rushing you. “What about you first making up for burning my notes and looking absolutely delicious smoking that cigarette?” “I think I already did, by doing whatever you want” he smirks into the long kiss, it somehow remaining eager and passionate even after the long duration of it.

His hands squeezed your hips tightly, wandering downwards to rest down on your thighs, dangerously close to the waistband of your skirt as our own hands wandered to tangle into his brown messy locks, the long make out session soon came to an end, leaving you two complete panting messes before Chris attacks the sensitive soft flesh of your neck, peppering it with open-mouthed kisses while his hot breath fans over them, causing a soft whimper escape past your lips alongside quick puffs of air, still trying to regain your flow of breath. "Like how your rival is all over you, huh? How he just can't resist the little princess no more." He mumbles against your neck while leaving a significant hickey behind which is going to be not so easy to cover up tomorrow for my classes, "What will I say after someone sees all these marks on my neck?" I question in a playful tone as he raises his head to glance up at my face, appearing almost serious if it wasnt for his eyes which were driven entirely by desire in that moment. "Tell them who you fuckin' belong to, little princess."

— 🩵 𝐓aglist

• @sweetshuga @giveheavensomehell @delilahsturniolo @marrykisskilled @purpledragon222 @nickgurl4life @thenickgirl …

⋅˚₊‧ 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒... heloheloheloo!! the start of the au has now began and surprisingly this is the first thing im writing for it but its not gonna be all smut all the time so bear with me guys for now, thanks for over 200 notes on my first fic im so grateful guys it feels so insane to me!! 🩵

[richarlotte]

Something about you?

I don’t usually say it so bluntly, but I’m very much a “pull yourself up by the bootstraps” type of person, and I was raised with the understanding that because I had nothing, I’d have to make something for myself if I wanted anything. I find it really difficult to listen to whining; I find it hard to care for people who don’t care for themselves, and I don’t really have much respect for those who have the resources or who have good opportunities but refuse to put themselves to work. 

 

I believe that most things are possible for girls of normal backgrounds because I don’t have anything close to a normal background, but I’ve been able to create the life I’ve always wanted for myself. Seriously, I woke up in the night and thought to myself. “how do I get the life I want?” and then found a way to do it. People overcomplicate things, and they are not willing to do enough; they are not willing to be uncomfortable or uneasy for any amount of time, and they are unwilling to take initiative or responsibility, and they cheat themselves out of their own happiness. 

 

Anyway, I guess what I’m trying to say is that I wanted to help myself because you have to want to help yourself in order to get anywhere. If you have all of these parts set out in front of you yet you’re paralyzed by fear and refuse to take a single step in any direction, you’re cheating yourself. Also, some people are so preoccupied with playing fair and keeping their hands clean that they don’t recognize that they’re the only ones focused on that. Admirable but not intelligent.

[kissyforkoo]

Between Friendship and Something More - ni-ki

pairing: ni-ki x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none i think

Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor of Riki’s room, laughing as he told another one of his ridiculous stories. His laughter was contagious, his dimples showing every time he grinned, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile even when her heart was racing in ways she didn’t want to admit. They had been best friends for years, and while she cherished their bond, she’d recently started noticing him in ways that felt… different.

But she kept those feelings locked away. After all, what if it ruined everything?

“Hey,” Riki said, snapping her out of her thoughts, “are you listening?”

Y/N blinked, realizing she had been staring at him. “What? Oh, yeah. Totally.”

He squinted at her suspiciously but didn’t press further. “Anyway, I was saying Yuri invited me to go to the mall with her tomorrow. I think she wants help picking out a gift for her friend’s birthday.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted at the mention of Yuri. She was gorgeous, smart, and confident—basically everything Y/N wasn’t. She and Riki had been hanging out a lot lately, and Y/N hated the way it made her feel. Jealousy wasn’t an emotion she was used to, but with Riki, it hit her hard.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Y/N said, trying to sound casual, but her voice wavered slightly.

Riki didn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, she’s fun. You’d like her if you got to know her.”

Y/N forced a smile. “I’m sure I would.”

The next evening, Y/N showed up at their favorite café after Riki texted her. She found him sitting at their usual table, sipping on his iced coffee and scrolling through his phone. He looked up when she approached, his face lighting up in that way that always made her heart flutter.

“Hey,” he greeted, motioning for her to sit. “How was your day?”

Y/N shrugged, sitting down and fiddling with her straw. “It was fine.”

He tilted his head, noticing the distant tone in her voice. “Are you sure? You seem kind of… off.”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, but the tightness in her voice betrayed her.

Riki leaned forward, studying her intently. “Y/N, what’s going on? Did I do something?”

Her stomach flipped at the concern in his voice. She shook her head, avoiding his gaze. “No, it’s nothing. Forget it.”

But Riki wasn’t the type to drop things so easily. “Come on, don’t shut me out. You’ve been acting weird ever since I mentioned Yuri. Is this about her?”

Y/N froze, her fingers tightening around her cup. “What about her?”

Riki hesitated for a moment, as if carefully choosing his words. “I mean… do you not like her? Or are you upset I’ve been spending time with her?”

“I don’t care who you spend time with,” Y/N said quickly, her voice sharper than she intended.

“Really?” Riki raised an eyebrow, his tone skeptical. “Because it kind of seems like you do.”

She let out a frustrated sigh, the jealousy she’d been trying to suppress bubbling to the surface. “Fine. Maybe I do care, okay? Maybe I don’t like seeing you with her because it feels like… like I’m being replaced or something.”

Riki stared at her, stunned for a moment. Then, slowly, a small smile tugged at his lips. “Y/N… you’re not being replaced. No one could ever replace you.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, muttering, “You say that now, but—”

He reached across the table, gently taking her hand and cutting her off. “I mean it. I’ve been spending time with Yuri because she’s nice, sure, but there’s only one person I want to be with. And she’s sitting right in front of me.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, her heart racing. “Riki…”

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ve liked you for a long time, Y/N. But I didn’t want to ruin what we have, so I kept it to myself. I didn’t know you felt the same until now.”

Her lips parted in surprise, her emotions swirling in a mix of relief and disbelief. “You… like me?”

He chuckled softly. “Yeah. I do. A lot.”

For a moment, Y/N was speechless. Then a slow smile spread across her face as she whispered, “I like you too.”

Riki grinned “Well, that makes this a lot easier, then.”

[docholligay]

HLF: how do i check for cold (or hot, i guess) spots in my oven? is there a tool or do you just have to sacrifice some cookies to the fire?

I TAKE NO CREDIT FOR THIS. I READ THIS ARTICLE ON KING ARTHUR BAKING. THEY ARE AN EXCELLENT FUCKING RESOURCE FOR EVERYTHING AND ALSO EMPLOYEE OWNED BUY THINGS FROM THEM.

The toast test! Once I learned about this, i was so fucking mad that I didn't think about it myself--all you need to do is sacrifice a loaf of bread.

Ovens are stupid. They are giant boxes of metal that get hot. And if you have a gas oven, they are even worse--the heat doesn't even COME IN equally, ever. So normally, in an electric oven at least, the outside edges of your oven get hotter than the center. You can use this to your advantage: I cook something that needs top browning on a rack set closer to the top, pies closer to the bottom, and for pizza, when I want to make a REALLY GOOD pizza, like if I have guests and I want them to think I'm the most special girl, I set one rack on top, one of bottom, cook it on the bottom for a crisp crust and then hit it with the broiler on top for like two minutes and boom holy fuck i am a god.

ANYWAY, to answer your actual question.

You buy a loaf of shitty bread--I got a 99 cent loaf from the day-old section--preheat your oven to 350F/180C* and then you arrange it around your oven. Like so. Or, if you're like me, you used the whole loaf, but I didn't want to buy a loaf just to take a picture of something I've already done, so I stole this one from KAF (I love you guys!)

then you bake until the center pieces are gorgeous, a medium golden brown. Then you'll know, if that's what happens in the ideal placement, what is going to happen in less-ideal placements.

I re-ran the test preheating my oven with convection and then cooking on normal, it had more even heating. I don't necessarily recommend this unless you like to sometimes get nuts.

*ALSO BUY AN OVEN THERMOMETER. Your preheating sensor is more than likely lying to you. You can get cheapass ones but right now the Thermoworks smoke is 50 GODDAMN PERCENT OFF because they are on America's Test Kitchen 5 days of deals. They say it's for barbecue but the clip works the same in a smoker or an oven. And also it comes with a meat probe! So, double duty. (I make nothing from Thermoworks I wish they would send me free product for all I promote them *big eyes at Thermoworks guy)

[the-oblivious-writer]

Shatterpoint

Debra Morgan x Reader

Part One: Debra’s Perspective

Summary: You die doing what you always do, putting other lives before your own. It's what Debra Morgan both loved and despised about you.

Warning(s): Swearing, (major) death, graphic depictions of violence (blood/gore), gun violence, phycological trauma, depression, grief/loss, and vomiting

Notes: Someone requested Debra Morgan angst so......... here it is! I ended up writing a part two from Dexter's perspective (platonically), so that'll be out tomorrow. I've been wanting to write platonic fictional dude characters x reader for some time now

Dexter’s Perspective

The first time Debra breaks down, it's in the middle of the Miami Metro parking lot. You're three days dead, and she's just found one of your forensics reports tucked into a case file – your neat handwriting mapping out blood spatter analysis, methodical and precise. She vomits behind her car, heaving until there's nothing left but bile and grief.

The second time is at your funeral. She watches them lower your body into the ground and something inside her splinters. The sound that tears from her throat isn't human. Dexter has to physically restrain her from jumping into the grave after you. Later, she'll have no memory of this – just the dirt under her fingernails and bruises on her arms where her brother held her back.

The third time destroys her completely.

It's been two weeks since that convenience store security camera caught your last moments. Two weeks since a frightened kid with a shaky trigger finger turned your chest into a crime scene. She's standing in your shared apartment, trying to pack up your things because that's what people do, right? They pack up the dead's belongings and pretend it helps.

Your forensics kit is still by the door where you left it that last morning. She opens it, and your scent hits her – latex gloves and that shampoo you loved and something uniquely you. The organized compartments blur through her tears. Each tool precisely placed, because that's who you were – someone who brought order to chaos, who could look at blood patterns and tell stories of violence with scientific detachment.

She starts throwing things. Your carefully labeled evidence containers shatter against walls. Your case files scatter like dead leaves. She's screaming, but she can't hear herself over the roaring in her head. Over the echo of your voice from that last argument:

"You can't keep running forever, Deb. I love you, but I can't chase you anymore."

The neighbors call the police. Fucking ironic, isn't it? Angel finds her surrounded by the wreckage of your professional life, clutching your laminate to her chest. She's laughing now, a horrible broken sound, because isn't this exactly what you were afraid of? Her inability to handle emotional intimacy, to face her feelings instead of drowning them in rage and whiskey.

They take her to the hospital. Put her on leave. Make her talk to department shrinks who use words like "complicated grief" and "post-traumatic stress" and "survivor's guilt." As if labeling her breakdown makes it more manageable.

She dreams of you. Not the you from the security footage, bleeding out under fluorescent lights. But the you who used to wake her from nightmares about the Ice Truck Killer, who knew exactly how she took her coffee, who could make her laugh even at crime scenes. The you who saw her walls and loved her anyway.

"I'm sorry," she tells your ghost. "I'm so fucking sorry."

But you're not there to forgive her.

Dexter finds her one night, sitting in your office at Miami Metro, organizing blood slides with obsessive precision. Trying to find patterns like you taught her, as if understanding the science of death will somehow make losing you hurt less.

"You're starting to worry me," he says, in that awkward way of his.

She laughs, sharp and bitter. "Starting to? Fuck, Dex, I'm starting to worry myself."

The security footage plays on repeat in her mind. She's memorized every detail – how you raised your hands, trying to de-escalate. How you stepped in front of the teenage clerk, protecting her. Your body jerking back, a crimson flower blooming across your chest. The way you looked surprised, almost confused, as you fell.

She keeps working cases, because what else is there? But every crime scene becomes yours. Every victim wears your face. She gets reckless, aggressive with suspects. Takes stupid risks because maybe, just maybe, if she's fast enough, smart enough, brave enough, she can save someone else's you.

Angel takes her gun after she nearly beats a convenience store robber to death.

"This isn't what they would have wanted," he tells her gently.

"Yeah? Well, they're not fucking here to want anything, are they?"

She finds one of your hair ties under the bed and falls apart all over again. Remembers how you used to gather your hair back before leaning over evidence, that little furrow of concentration between your brows. How she used to tease you about being so serious, so focused. How you'd smile and say, "Someone has to be, with you charging around like a hurricane."

The hurricane is all that's left now.

Some days she can almost pretend she's healing. She goes to work, follows leads, eats when Dexter reminds her to. But then she'll catch a glimpse of the forensics lab, or smell latex gloves, or hear someone mention blood spatter analysis, and she's right back in that convenience store, watching you die on an endless loop.

The department shrink asks her what she thinks you would say if you could see her now.

She doesn't tell him about the letter she found in your forensics manual. The one that begs her not to let grief make her harder, not to let loss change how fiercely she loves. She's already failed you there.

Instead, she says, "They'd probably say I'm proving them right. About running away. About not being able to handle my feelings."

But that's not entirely true, is it? Because this time she's not running. She's standing perfectly still, letting grief consume her, letting the absence of you hollow her out until there's nothing left but echoes and regret.

The security footage plays on. You raise your hands. The gun fires. You fall.

And somewhere in Miami, Debra Morgan keeps breaking, keeps shattering, keeps failing to put herself back together.

Some things just break, and stay broken, and all we can do is learn to breathe around the shards.

-----------

A/N: Not me changing my format...

[yandere-daydreams]

okay. okay. batfam fic. is this a really late response? who cares (the answer is no, fuck you, it's perfectly on-time)! i just had a lot i wanted to say. so... let's start. i LOVEEE having a reader that's so aware? i just think - while i adore when readers kick and scream or whimper in trained obedience or whatever - there's something so scrumptious about someone who knows they're trapped and is trying to learn to maneuver carefully (even though it all goes to shit anyway). i can't help but wonder what would happen as time goes on. or immediately in the aftermath. would reader even be able to attempt to go back to pretending everything was normal? or would it just send them straight to where they were at the start? and then i think about everyone else. how would they respond? would the reader even tell them? in an effort to maintain normalcy, would they keep it a secret from the rest of the family? or would they be so distressed they'd be unable to? and then their response would really be the deciding factor in the family's response. if they pretended it didn't happen, how long would it take them to figure it out? and how would they respond to knowing they withheld that info? if they were distressed and told them, would they explode as a family? or would it worm into their heads as... a more concrete idea? if jason did it... why can't some of the others? i mean, i bet one of them would be willing to believe that the reader wouldn't have been so upset, if they had just been the one to do it. jason's so rough and rude, even without trying. he can be so mean. no. reader should have that experience with someone who is gonna be nice to them, who wants nothing but their pleasure, over and over and over and.... well, you get the point. personally, it felt so realistic to have the reader try and be calm and rational. i'm kind of passive when it comes to confrontation. i'd prefer to keep the peace. but.... well... i'm also curious. i probably wouldn't be able to stop myself from eavesdropping or snooping, especially if i knew it concerned me. i'd want as much info as possible, even if it made me sick. sorry this is so so long i'm gonna cut it off here just want to say i LOVED the fic. your batfam is my favourite. i love how you just make them all such freaks in their own way. none of them are safe.

ahh thank you so much! long asks like this in response to my silly little fics keep me fed for days T-T

plans for a continuation are still solidifying and i'd hate to give two much away, but prt one was very much the reader desperately trying to prolong the 'fucking around' phase (or, the not fucking around phase? ig?), whereas we've thoroughly transitioned into the 'finding out' stage of things at the time a continuation would pick up. they're all such poorly contained freaks when everyone's still trying to pretend they don't want to fuck their step-mom, it might take a little while to figure out how they'd behave once fucking the aforementioned step-mom is up for further discussion.

[sturnioloszn]

KISS ME ON NYE? - C.S

summary; while at a nye party with the triplets, you realise you have nobody to kiss at midnight, but neither does chris...

warnings; mentions of alcohol, light kissing/making-out.

a/n; ugh i feel like i've written a million oneshots based at parties lmfao, this will be the last one for a hot minute lol.

Parties weren't my usual scene. The loud music which I could feel in my bones, the crowds of sweaty and drunk people, the desperate men who would do anything to get in a girl's underwear, it all just made me feel gross. However, for the sake of my best friends and the fact that it was new years eve, I dragged myself here in hopes of a good time.

Sipping from my water bottle, I looked around and noticed Nick in the kitchen, pouring himself another alcoholic concoction. I make my way towards him, in urgent need of a conversation, because standing in the corner of a party, alone, is incredibly depressing.

"Ugh, where have you been?" I ask, approaching my friend, leaning against the marble countertops.

"Making out with that insanely hot guy," he replies, nodding his head to the giant standing in the middle of the dance floor. He stuck out like a sore thumb, but that was usually Nick's type anyway.

"How about you? What have you been up to?"

"Literally nothing. I'm bored out of my mind," I admit. I take another sip of my water as I scan my eyes over the house full of people. I notice Matt sitting on the couch with a girl on his lap. Damn, even Matt is getting some right now, and I'm not.

"So you don't have your kiss yet?" Nick questions, tasting his weird mix of alcohol that he had just created.

"Kiss? For what?" I reply, completely baffled.

"Midnight, duh. Are you not gonna have a new years eve kiss?"

"No? Do you have someone to kiss?" I ask. There's no way I'd participate in that stupid tradition. Even if i wanted to, which I do not, I don't have anyone to kiss.

"Um, yes. Mr. 6'3" is my kiss," he grins, offering me some of his creation, but I quickly decline it.

"Is Matt kissing someone?"

I don't want to be the only one not kissing someone at midnight. I'll be the first to admit that it's just a stupid trend, but I'll also admit that I suffer from severe FOMO and being the only one not kissing someone will have me wishing a black hole would open and swallow me whole.

"Probably that girl he's been hanging out with all night," he shrugs, chugging down more of his drink.

"Chris?"

"No idea, I've barely seen him, actually," he says.

"Anyway, I'm going back to my man, it's almost midnight! You better find someone quick,"

I'm left alone again, wondering what the fuck I'm supposed to do. I make my way to the living room and notice a large countdown displayed on the tv. There were two minutes before midnight. Shit.

Just as worries began to flood my head, Chris walked into the room. Our eyes meet before he lazily strolls over with a small smile on his lips.

"Where have you been?" I smile, acknowledging his relaxed presence. I guess he wasn't worried about finding someone to kiss at midnight.

"Honestly, in one of the rooms, on my phone," he chuckles. It wasn't the answer I expected, and he could tell I was taken by surprise. Chris usually loves this kind of stuff; the music, the drinks, the girls. But recently, he hasn't been as into them.

I glance at his drink of choice and notice he was holding a pepsi, not even any liquor.

"You kissing someone at midnight?"

His question made my stomach flip. I'd be completely lying if I said that I didn't have a tiny crush on Chris. I know we've been friends for years, but that's exactly why I can't let my feelings get in the way of our friendship.

But his question had me rethinking everything between us. Did he feel the same? Was he just looking for a new years eve kiss? Did it matter if it was me or any random girl?

I'm broken from my thoughts when everyone suddenly starts chanting numbers. I'm confused for a moment until I realise they were counting backwards from ten. It was ten seconds until midnight. Nine. Eight. Seven.

Shit, was I really going to do this? Six. Five. Four.

I look over to Chris, who's already looking straight at me. Three. Two.

It was now or never I guess. One.

I quickly wrap my arms around his neck and pull his face into mine, crashing our lips together. He doesn't hesitate to kiss me back, and everything feels frozen. The entire room stills, and the only thing I can comprehend was the way his lips grazed mine over and over again.

His hands rested on my lower back, pulling me closer into him. I feel the air being drawn out from my lungs, forcing me to pull away from this dream-like state.

Opening my eyes, I'm met with his dark blue ones. There's absolutely no way he didn't feel anything in that kiss.

"I've been wanting to do that for a while," he smirks, pulling me in for another kiss. This time, I open my jaw wider, letting him have full access to my mouth. I feel his tongue dip in and out, leaving the taste of his soda in my mouth. I feel my knees grow weaker, and the butterflies in my stomach stronger.

I briefly pull away from the kiss again.

"Me too," I smile against his lips, wishing I could crystalise this moment forever.

a/n; final oneshot of the yearrrrr, isn't that crazy? anywho, i'd like to just take a moment to thank everyone for all the love i've received. every reblog, every like, every comment, it all means so much to me, and I'm so insanely grateful. i can't wait for this new year, i have some exciting stuff planned, and hopefully, you're just as excited. have an amazing new year, everyone, love you all! 💙

Taglist; @idrk2292 @missmanheim @moonlightsturns @045696 @forgottxen @mattsturniolover @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @chrissturniolodailysluts @sturnobsessedwh0re

[mariaofdoranelle]

Stay a Little Longer - part 4

Fic masterlist

Written for @tomtenadia for our Rowaelin secret Santa

Guys… I can’t believe I’m saying this but… I don’t think I’ll be able to update this fic (or any other) until next year 😔

Heheheheh Happy New Year y’all!! 🥳✨

Warnings: idiots in love

Words: 3,2k

TWO MONTHS LATER

Aelin received her last letter from her mother yesterday.

In a week, she’d be getting on a boat with Aedion and the few guards and servants that followed along by her parents’ demand.

Weirdly enough, as much as she loved her home, Aelin didn’t anticipate this moment as she thought she would—it felt like an eternity when she settled on a three-month trip, and now it felt like not enough time.

It hurt to think of the reason why.

Aelin sighed, willing her body to melt on the bath water she heated herself. The taut support she rested on was as comfortable as ever, though Rowan’s body wasn’t exactly pillow-like.

He he drew her closer with one arm around her waist, water sloshing around the bathtub. Aelin leaned the back of her head against his shoulder and sighed.

“You’re worried,” he said. Not a question.

“I think we should join the others soon,” she lied.

There was no such thing as hiding a lover among the Fae. They’d never acted on their affections in public—he’d been flying in and out of her window to avoid the sentries outside her door—but every creature with Fae blood in this castle could scent Rowan in Aelin and vice-versa.

“And you haven’t thought about what I said last night?”

Looks like Rowan had his mind on the same things.

He continued, “You should stay another season. What’s there to do when Orynth gets buried under snow, anyway?”

She chuckled. “I’m a crown princess. I can’t disappear for half a year to gorgeous-Fae-prince-land.”

Rowan grunted and wrapped his arms tighter around her waist, his chin on top of her head.

Aelin pointed at their breakfast tray. “Would you…?”

He absentmindedly levitated a croissant from their breakfast tray nearby, and Aelin heated her hand until it was dry to catch it.

She pouted. “This wasn’t the one I wanted.”

He chuckled, already knowing what she meant. Aelin heated the croissant for him and dried his fingers when he extended his hand.

Rowan wasn’t a pastry devotee like Aelin, but he always appreciated the food she handed him.

Once the simplest of croissants had a proper owner, Aelin demanded the croissant she was meant to have—one of the few stuffed with chocolate hazelnut ones.

“Any plans for the day?” she asked.

“Fenrys requested my company today.”

“Oh?” Aelin twisted her body to face him as much as she could. “What are you two up to?”

The stillness of her heartbeat was as far as she’d let her apprehension go. Aelin liked Fenrys, but he was a known rake and a wild card. Rowan had never came back with someone else’s scent, and they haven’t discussed the nature of their relationship, but—

“But” nothing. They haven’t discussed it, and they wouldn’t now, one week before she parted.

Two months ago, having any claim on Rowan was the last thing she wanted.

But two months is quite some time, isn’t it?

“I didn’t ask,” Rowan replied. “He’d convince me to go either way, and I don’t wanna torture myself with the knowledge beforehand.”

Aelin nodded. She leaned her body on his further and toyed with his fingers. Slid her thumb along the palm of her hand.

Would she ever feel ready to test if they were carranam? Because they were certainly something, and Aelin’s mind was endlessly wavering, torn between both options.

It certainly wasn’t both. The likelihood of having one of these bonds was incredibly low—both, between the same creatures, with one of them being demi-Fae was downright impossible. No sane Fae would consider such a thing.

Rowan kissed the crown of her head. “I’ve lost you to your thoughts again.”

“Do you still think we’re mated?”

Rowan tensed. He placed his hands on Aelin’s shoulders, both in a soothing motion, and said in a too-quiet voice, “I think we’re whatever we want to be.”

A far cry from the prince who walked into that library demanding to get to know better his “mate”.

His reply was no answer at all, yet all the answer she needed.

˜˜

“Do you think it’s too much?” Aelin asked, biting her nail.

“I absolutely think it’s too much,” Aedion replied.

Aelin sighed. “You weren’t supposed to be this honest.”

At her antechamber, the two cousins stared at the table that laid all the gifts she bought for the cook: a knife made of ungodly expensive steel that’s allegedly unbreakable and always sharp, a chest of rare ingredients and herbs, and spidersilk gloves so she never injures her hands at work. Along with a note thanking her for the cooking.

And a request for a couple of his recipes, such as the hazelnut tarts she’d eaten every day.

Aedion shook his head. “You should’ve known better after Eyllwe.”

That cook from Eyllwe’s castle. The only one Aelin could never get a recipe from, no matter how many lavish gifts she showered him with. He said he wouldn’t give the fruit loaf recipe so Aelin would visit more often, but she knew it was because he’s stingy—his tactic worked either way.

“What else do we need to sort out before we leave?” Aelin asked mostly out of curiosity for Aedion’s plans. With one exception, everything she needed was at least half-ready.

“I need to visit my mother’s grave one last time, and I’m still wondering if I should bring Rhoe a bottle of that Fae scotch.”

“Oh, gods.” Aelin shook her head. What a terrible idea. “Dad can’t handle scotch for humans. Mom will kill you—you know she will.”

Aedion’s smirk was fiendish before he let it go and said, “What about you?”

“I’ve got everything sorted out. Except maybe for the cook’s gift, and I’m still wondering if I should see the healer before departing.”

He frowned. “Are you unwell?”

“How much do you want to hear about the malfunction on my lady parts?”

His face twisted into the most tortured grimace. “None, please. I’ll get the healer before you delay it further.”

Forever the mother hen, her cousin left to send for the healer before she could protest and say it wasn’t that much of a big deal.

Aelin’s monthly cycle was supposed to come days ago. It had gotten irregular in the past out of stress or overexertion—it wouldn’t be a surprise if it happened again, but it was better to have it checked now that she was spending the next few weeks on a boat.

“The steward is summoning her,” Aedion said as he re-entered her antechamber and closed the door. “Now tell me, what are you doing about Prince Rowan?”

“What about him?” Aelin frowned. As close as they were, they never meddled in each other’s affairs like this.

“I don’t know. You smell different.”

“Different?”

“Stop doing that.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop repeating my questions with a question.”

“I’m doing that because I’m confused! Rowan and I are companions in merriment, not matrimony—my departure won’t hurt his feelings.” Though Aelin couldn’t say the same about herself. “And how can someone smell different?”

“I don’t know. You smell different, and I don’t know what that is—I’ve never smelled it before, but it’s similar to how Rowan smells.”

“He asked me to stay here another season.”

Aedion’s brows shot up.

“I know,” she said. “I thought of inviting him to Terrasen since he has a whole season to spare, but can you imagine the scandal? Me coming back with a Doranellian lover—gods.” Aelin threw herself on the divan. “And I’d do it, but for what end? I’d buy this endless fight with my parents and the council for a match that won’t even last.”

Aedion sat on the armchair before her, seemingly thinking hard on the subject. “Didn’t he practically demand to marry you or something? Doranelle could be a powerful ally if Queen Sellene and your dad are willing to mend that bridge and find some common ground.”

“Rowan wants the stars to align into an arrow shape and point at someone for him to love, not a regular wife.”

Besides, did she want to marry Rowan? Aelin hadn’t even considered it could get that far.

“He wants a mate, you mean?”

“Exactly. That was his premise when he suggested we would eventually marry, and if he hasn’t married in the last three hundred or so years, I doubt he’ll want a wife now.”

If Sellene was anything like Maeve, she’d hand Rowan on a silver platter for a chance to get closer to Aelin. But as someone who’s dreaded a political marriage her entire life, Aelin didn’t want it like this. Not for Rowan.

“Well, cousin.” Aedion reached for a cigar and wiggled it between his fingers so Aelin could light it for him. “After a through assessment, it’s safe to say that you’re fucked.”

Aelin had as long as a deep breath to take in the amount of shit she was in before the healer knocked on her door.

“Don’t leave,” she told Aedion on her way to the door. “If I had to sit through this, you have to tell me about Fenrys as well.”

“It’s an uncommitted affair with sporadic encounters,” her cousin said, pink tinging his cheeks.

Aelin chuckled and opened her door to greet the healer holding a small case, and gestured for the female to follow her into a more private room—one Aedion wouldn’t listen even if he wanted to.

When they were settled and Aelin explained her what happened, she showed the healer the little calendar she tracked her monthly cycles in and the questions started.

Yes, she’s had irregular cycles before, though it was unusual.

Yes, she’s feeling stressed out.

No, she hadn’t gained or lost weight recently.

Yes, she was sexually active.

The healer pointed to the bed and said, “If Your Highness doesn’t mind.”

After Aelin laid down for a proper examination, the female’s hands hovered over Aelin’s body to assess it, and touched it a moment or two. When it landed on her lower stomach, the healer said, “I think I know what’s going on.” Her face remained impassive throughout the rest of her examination. Soon enough, she told Aelin to sit back at her armchair.

“Your Highness, you’re with child.”

The entire world spun.

Aelin’s with what?

“You mean…” Aelin trailed and pointed at her belly. “Little heir?”

“Exactly.” The female sent her a warm smile. “Only healing magic can detect it so far, but the baby will develop its scent and blend into yours soon enough.”

“How soon?”

“Any time now.”

Aelin nodded, her mind blank.

“Your body seems to be healthy enough for childbearing, but you should…”

The healer went on with a million recommendations about her expecting, plus lists of foods, herbs and tonics to use so the baby grows properly. Good thing she was writing it down, because Aelin was barely listening.

She was having a baby.

One that might have turquoise or green eyes and fire or wind magic and a human or hawk animal form.

One that will either reunite two opposing kingdoms or initiate a war between them.

Holy rutting Mala. She was so screwed.

The healer cleared her throat, and that’s when Aelin realized she was gawking at a blank point rather than pretending to be attention.

“Your Highness, if you don’t mind me saying…”

“Please, go ahead.”

The healer set aside the list of recommendations to say, “Fae children are rare, even more so when one or both of the parents is full-blooded. In my hundreds of years working as a healer, I’ve never seen the Fae reject their offspring the same way humans do—babies are often cherished despite the circunstancies in which they were born.”

The healer was engaged with castle gossip, then.

“You see…” Aelin leaned forward, eyes intent on the healer’s. “It is of our best interest that your knowledge of my condition stays confidential. I’m sure I can compensate you for the good work—and discretion.”

˜˜

Aedion was still on her antechamber when Aelin walked the healer out.

“How was it?”

Aelin blinked. Gods, how was it? “I’m…” Aelin trailed, struggling to find her words in this dazzling state. “Baby.”

Aedion’s full body stiffened. “You’re loud like one, yes. Now be serious.”

“You know…” Aelin frowned at her stomach. “She said I’m with child.”

He was in front of her as quick as his Fae speed could muster, sniffing her harder than a dog does to a new acquaintance.

“You don’t smell like it.”

“It’s too soon to scent it. I wouldn’t have known without a magical healer.”

Aedion paced. And paced. And paced. So much he would’ve cut a hole into the floor were his shoes sharp.

“Did you bribe her?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s concerning how that was my first instinct once she gave me the news.”

Castle gossip—Aelin had mastered the art of controlling what was said about her as much as possible.

“We must leave—immediately.”

“I agree.” She needed the family’s trusted healer to oversee this bearing and, all of a sudden, Aelin’s chest ached for her mother. “Rowan and Fenrys must be arriving back at the castle soon. As soon as I tell him—“

“No!” Aedion interrupted. He placed both arms on Aelin’s shoulders so she could sit on an armchair, then kneeled before her and said, “I admire you so much for wanting to do the right thing, but that’s too dangerous. You’re carrying a Whitethorn. Doranelle finally has a claim on you.”

Aelin nodded. He was right. This was the fulfillment of Queen Maeve’s dreams, and they didn’t know Queen Sellene enough to risk it.

“Aelin, we’re alone in a foreign land that neighbors Doranelle. We’re closer to their army than ours. You’re in a vulnerable position.” He held her face with both hands, maintaining strong eye contact as he said, “We need to go home. We’ll need an entire team to come up with a proper agreement between kingdoms, and…” Aedion swallowed. “We may or may not need an army.”

˜˜

It was the second time Aelin tried to get on a damned ship.

The salt air reeked of fish, and that alone was enough to make her queasy.

When Aelin first got on the ship yesterday, she retched her guts out before it even departed—which she was glad for, because they got to leave before being trapped in that vomit-inducing monstrosity for weeks.

After that, they stayed in an inn overnight and Aedion bought a month’s worth of everything anti-nausea that healer—Mala bless her—wrote down, and a few things more.

Now, Aelin was safely tucked into her room in the ship, near the stern where the motion of the sea is less noticeable. Even with the thick wood between her and the harbor, she could still make out the sound of the gulls’ cries, slap of water against the shore and people calling to one another all added to the mayhem that was Varese’s harbor. She’d be watching it, but her window faced the sea, and Aelin wasn’t in a lively mood today.

She missed Rowan.

It was true that carrying a child left mothers-to-be moody, but it’d be unfair to blame it for the full extent of her feelings—she blamed Rowan as well.

Rowan and his dry humor and hard muscles that felt soft when cuddling—every time her chest ached with longing for him, it was absolutely his fault.

The only thing Aelin didn’t blame him for entirely was for his seed taking root inside of her. After her mother spent her entire fertile life trying to conceive and ended up with only one child, Aelin vowed to never take a contraceptive tonic—facing the judgement of bearing a child out of marriage was better than leaving Terrasen without an heir.

And that reminder only made her more eager to go home. The lords will be livid that a decision about Aelin’s own body escaped their control, but that might be overshadowed by the fact that they’ll be dealing with Doranelle soon.

It would be chaos in every scenario Aelin tried to predict, and she just wanted it to be over with.

Aelin got up and met the sentries outside her door—one of her father’s requirements for her trip.

Gods, her dad will be so proud when he gets to see what she can do with her flames now.

The thought made her think of Rowan again. She was doomed.

The sentries jumped, wide-eyed when she opened her door.

“Why is it taking us so long to leave?”

One of the males glanced at the narrow hallway before he said, “There’s an issue with a stowaway. Word is that he’s been raising hell in other ships too.”

Aelin frowned. “So he’s a bandit?”

He shrugged. “That’s all I know. We’re under strict orders that no one other than Prince Aedion should get in or out of your room for now.”

She closed the door, laid back on the bed and grabbed a book. There were plenty of people outside dealing with the bandit, and Aelin couldn’t put Terrasen’s heir at risk by engaging in fights she could avoid.

She didn’t think Aedion would find a ship with a room this nice at the last minute, but Aelin was grateful for it—if she was going to be miserable, she might as well be doing it in a comfortable, spacious room.

For a moment, Aelin heard shouting outside. She straightened herself into a seating position at the bed and willed her flames to stay ready to attack. It was gone soon.

They must’ve caught him—Aelin’s side of the ship was filled with guards.

She focused back on her book and throughly judged the fictional princess’ choices. Gods, who wrote this thing?

A loud crack stole her attention as the glass from her window shattered under the wind’s strength.

That wind she knew too well.

Aelin’s entire body tensed. As she got up, a hawk flew past her broken window and into her room.

He shifted into his Fae form at the same time the guards burst into her room.

“Your Highness, are you—THE BANDIT!”

Aelin grew a wall of flame between them and the guards before another fight could ensue.

“That’s not a bandit,” she shouted, “that’s Prince Rowan of Doranelle!”

To be fair, he didn’t look princely at all. With clothes torn at the seams and a frazzled expression of somber eyes and disheveled hair, Rowan looked like a tramp or a drunk rather than a prince.

Aelin shooed away the guards before she could fully focus on him, but Rowan had barely noticed them, holding her closer without caring about their privacy.

“How dare you,” he murmured against her head. “How dare you leave town with just a goodbye letter thanking me for the orgasms.”

In that moment, all Aelin knew was the swell of warmth she felt on her chest when he was near—if she had any problems before this moment, it was lost to her.

She chuckled and nipped his chin. “You knew I’d be leaving either way.”

“And you should grant a male his time to fix that.” Rowan kissed her cheek, jaw, nipped her neck. “How are you—“

Rowan sniffed along her neck and froze. All warmth was gone when he took a step back from her.

Nothing could’ve prepared her for the betrayed look in her lover’s eyes.

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[whatwooshkai]

Has 17 been asked already? Maybe a lil Blades 🥺

Blades is attempting to vent properly.

They've been doing it in waves- frontliners like firefighters and enforcer-adjacent first, then engineers, then support.

Heatwave can't seem to keep his hands out of his mouth, feeling at the proper fangs in there. He'd admitted to Blades once, drunkenly, that he'd sharpened his canines himself because he thought they looked cool.

But now his mouth is weaponry.

Boulder seems to be having the same problem, except they've kept it shut tighter than steel trap after they saw Heatwave bite his glossa hard enough to draw blood.

Chase already came with fangs. Blades has his own mouth full of knives, so he's only got to look forward to the other required "enhancements".

Audial, optical, and other sensory enhancements. The fangs are the only required self defense weaponry, but it's encouraged to get more on your own time.

Chase has all the bells and whistles of a proper enforcer, and Blades has them of a proper soldier. So, nothing to worry about there.

Blades looks up at Heatwave, who looks back at him, doing his best at a reassuring smile- he can't quite seem to figure out how it's supposed to feel anymore.

His bright yellow optics have been reduced to soft pinpricks, surrounded by black glass. "The best optics on the market," they were told. "High end stuff."

But they're not Heatwave's optics. They're not Chase's either, cyan now reflecting as a gray in the mirror. His hands hover over his optics as he almost obsessively cycles them.

Blades holds his own hands close to his face, close enough that the green glow of his optics reflects off them slightly. "They make you unique!" Hot Spot would say to him. "They're prettier than mine, that's for sure."

He doesn't want to do this. He doesn't need enhancements.

But he's not like Boulder, who's optics are so reinforced from mining that removing and replacing them would cause damage to their entire optical system, and really are fairly high end to begin with- being able to see in the dark and all that.

If he wants to stay- if he wants this- it has to be done.

It's not like I see myself anyways, he tells himself as a nurse comes up to lead him down to the Academy's medbay. It'll still be me. Only... I'll just look a little different.

I'll be fine.

I'll be fine.

I'll be fine-

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

In the mirrors, his optics are small dots of gray behind black glass.

They didn't even bother to keep them green.

[epicfairyy]

first time in school 💋

when we got to his office, he tells me he's like really turned on and he wasn't lying bcz at the front of his trousers...yeah, there was a full print and then i crossed my arms to give him a bit of attitude, he started begging again for me to not keep pretending like i wasn't interested in him, i told him it wasn't my fault and that he was the one who keeps repeating that "oh i'm your teacher" line constantly and it's getting annoying, he started apologising and then i told him it was okay, so he gently grabbed my arm and kissed me, we started kissing for a few minutes and he then picked me up with both hands and put me against the wall, both his hands were on my a$$ under my skirt, i had just wrapped my hands around his head and we were still kissing, he was slipping tounge in and then kissing my neck, really pressing me against the wall, there was literally shelves next to me..lol, at least his office door was closed and thankfully no other person was in the area where we were bcz it was about to go down, he said "i can't wait anymore, i've been trying to, i really fcking have, but yknow i'm a man, sweetheart" he was pulling my shirt down and sucking hard! trying to give me a hickey on my cherries! obviously i was very sensitive, i was already dripping just from this and i was making small noises, he grabbed me tighter on my a$$ and he tells me if i want it??? i just nodded my head and whilst still holding me he somehow managed to unbuckle his belt, he told me he was going to push in and in the moment i just accepted it and he put my p4nties to the side and he started going in, i knew i was w3t so there was no worry for this, i could feel his tip in the area since he was slowly rubbing me with it and then it just all slowly slipped in and i held him tight, when it goes in, yeah you can really feel it and i do regret not opening myself up or practising with other stuff before lol..he was looking at my face watching me take it and making sure i wasn't in pain, there was nothing for me to say, i was moaning loud and he started kissing me during whilst he was holding me and thrusting at the same time too, like it wasn't even gentle thrusts, was he aware this was my first time or what? he was pushing my head on the wall and he put his hand over my mouth since he thought i was being so loud and he was whispering "fck..fck" as he was doing it...it was such an intense feeling it just kept going in and out, and when it was slipping in, it was slipping right in and he could how w3t and t1ght i was that's why he was making noises too...anyways this went on for 6 minutes i'd say and he then put me down, he asked if i was okay and i was in shock really bcz wtf do you mean we just had s3x at school in your office?! he was like "oh sh*t, i completely forgot about the other kids in school, we must hurry" then we got ready and went back like i didn't even talk to him after that whilst the revision session, but we did talk online so that's fine, i just can't believe it happened at school tho and just like that, when i went home, yes..there was a bit of blood on my p4nties..not a lot, just a bit..it's normal ig? also it's true, i've been sore for like 2 days, my body's way too sensitive..

[softspeirs]

May I request for the taking care of a tired lover prompt,  Blakely x Marie + ²⁾ “you’re going to bed, even if i have to carry you there myself.”?

A/N: Love this so much. Ev Blakely, your soft spot is showing! This is the first thing I've written in weeks and I felt I struggled with it a lot, so please let me know what you think of it! Thanks to @mercurygray for helping me out with the plot!

The music is loud in the pub tonight, and Ev Blakely is fighting off a pounding headache. He has been working 12 to 13 hour days for the last week, and he wants to go bed, but instead he's been dragged here, his friends insistent that he have a drink and try to relax.

Fat chance of that.

He knows he's being sour. He's not good company, and he doesn't miss the way Dougie is looking around, searching for anyone who's more willing to carry on a conversation.

Loud, female laughter from the other side of the pub grabs his attention, and he watches, amused, as Helen and a few of the other Red Cross ladies try to convince a girl he doesn't recognize to go dance with them.

His gaze is drawn to Fernandez, nearby. She's smiling, but it's tired, and he frowns at the circles under her eyes.

He's been seeing it in too many of his friends, and he's sure he looks much the same. Still, he doesn't like it.

"Are you listening to me?" Dougie elbows him.

"Yeah, yeah." Ev says, turning to his friend. "Just-- noticing that no one really seems in a party mood."

Douglass shrugs, taking another sip of his drink. "Because no one around here has gotten more than a few hours of sleep in a week."

The invasion is looming and they all know it. It's been nothing but planning and planning and more planning, and in the middle of it, they're still flying raids like there's nothing more imminent coming.

Underneath it all is the undercurrent, their missing friends, who they all think about but no one talks about. They don't say their names, they don't leave a spot for them in the bunks, and they don't talk about the months-old letters that finally showed up a few weeks ago.

At least they know they're alive. Doesn't do anything to help morale though, especially not when forts are still going down every day.

He can't even remember the name of the kid who introduced himself this morning and went down in the afternoon. It makes him feel sick.

"You need a drink, and then you need to sleep." Dougie says with finality. "Be right back." He stands, headed towards the bar.

Ev taps a rhythm on the table, and his attention is drawn across the room again at a loud cheer and more laughter. This time, he sees Marie on her feet, drink in hand, a little unsteady on her feet. Her usually perfectly coiffed hair is a little loose and untidy, and something about the distant look in her eyes puts him on edge.

It's none of your business, he tells himself. But then there's some guy there. Some guy is there and leaning into her space, and he either can't see the way she leans far in the other direction, or he doesn't give a shit, and he Ev can't really stand it anymore.

He doesn't want to be here anyway, so he might as well use this as an excuse to get gone, even if it's going to get him yelled at.

His feet are moving before he can think too hard about it, and then he's there, inserting himself. "Steady on, Fernandez," he says quietly, getting her attention. "You all right?"

Her eyes narrow at him. He thinks it's just instinct at this point.

"Fine. Long day. You, Major?"

"Going to call it a night. Might want to think about doing the same, yeah?"

She makes a face. "I just got another drink!" She protests. "From my new friend--" She looks up at the other man, eyebrows furrowing.

"Carmichael." He supplies. "Tom Carmichael."

"Tom." She parrots, and Ev tightens his jaw.

"Uh huh. Look, when's the last time you got any sleep, huh? I'm headed that way with Dougie, we'll walk you--"

"Do you remember that you're not the boss of me?" She asks primly.

Christ. "Yes. You made it really crystal clear."

"Good. So leave me alone, and I'll decide when it's time for me to go to bed."

He knows it's not his place, and he truly doesn't want to overstep. Now that he works more closely with her, he's tired of the constant bickering, but something just doesn't sit right with him, leaving her here like this. It's out of character for her to be in her cups, and even though she deserves it, he doesn't like it.

"Maybe you should listen to Major Blakely, Marie?" Tatty asks quietly from beside her. "It's been a long day."

Marie watches her friend and her face softens, just a fraction. It changes her so completely, Ev is almost taken aback by it. He’s only seen glimpses of her like this.

It makes something protective rise up in him again when he sees Tom lean in.

“We’ll finish our drinks and I’ll see her back.” He says with a tone of finality.

It’s not Ev’s place. It’s not, and so he holds up his hands. “Alright. Not a hair out of place, Carmichael.” His tone is genial, but he means it.

He meets Douglass back at their table. He accepts the beer handed his way and takes a long swig, trying to ignore the feeling that’s taken residence in his gut.

.

An hour later and he can barely keep his eyes open. The band is still going, but the crowd is petering out, and he’s on his feet ready to head to bed.

He’s halfway out the door when he sees her and stops in his tracks.

Marie is alone at the table, an empty glass in front of her. Her chin is in her hands and she looks half asleep. She’s watching the few couples still on the dance floor with a tiny smile and he can’t help but walk over to her table, taking a seat to her left.

“Good night?”

She blinks at him. “Yeah. It was all right.”

“Time to go, Fernandez. You’re running yourself ragged.” His voice is serious, hoarse with exhaustion.

“Speak for yourself,” she says with a raised eyebrow. Her words are slow from drink and the glassy look in her eyes makes his stomach clench.

“You’re going to bed if I have to carry you there myself, Marie.” He says quietly. “You deserve a break.”

She sighs. The fight leaves her. “Fine. Walk me? You can hold this.” She shoves her purse in his direction and then she’s on her feet before he can protest.

The night air is blessedly cool when they emerge, a low fog dragging itself across the fields and runways. She stops, eyes closing for a second. “It’s almost beautiful like this.” She says.

He hums. “You know what else is beautiful?”

She turns to him, surprised, a blush working its way across her cheeks.

“My bed.” He says firmly. “Those cotton sheets, my shitty, flat pillow…” He laughs at the look on her face, at the way she thought he was going to say something else.

And he could have - he could have made it obvious that he was watching her admire the sight before them instead of taking it in himself, he could have told her that he’s noticing more and more about her lately and that she’s never lovelier than when she’s yelling at him.

But he won’t. Because tomorrow isn’t guaranteed, and he won’t do that to her. Or to himself.

“I’ll remember that, Major.” She says, walking ahead of him.

He catches up to her, slinging one arm around her shoulders, her exasperated sigh and his chuckles following them all the way back to her billet.

[noodledragonsoups]

These are all so sad…sending hugs for everybody who’d like them.

Hi, I’m Argo and when I was 16 I had a complete mental breakdown after having dealt with major OCD symptoms without saying anything for about 5+ years. That’s not the story, though, no need to delve into that.

Anywho, started therapy and got diagnosed almost immediately, which was nice, and my therapist kindly pointed out that insurance could possibly help with the costs, all we’d need to do is a Zoom interview with some social worker at the company to ‘prove I needed it.’ No biggie.

On the Zoom call, I have to explain the deal to this social worker, how I have these awful thoughts that I don’t want or think of myself, that bring me great guilt, and that I would never even imagine doing.

She gets all horrified by what I’m saying, says (these are direct quotes, by the way) that I’m “clearly mentally unstable” and “a danger to [my]self and others.” I apparently needed to “turn [my]self in at the ER within an hour for intensive psychoanalysis and possibly brain scans.”

Like, ma’am. I just plain as day explained that this is OCD, I have a diagnosis.

Anywho, she ended by ever-so-kindly letting us know that if we didn’t, she’d have to call CPS/the police to my home.

So we immediately end the call, my mom and I, and wait until an hour later, the police show up. They’re very understanding and it helped that I’m comfortable around police because I know lots of people in the field. My mom explained the whole thing and they just had to ask me a few questions in private to ensure I was not, in fact, gonna hurt anybody or myself.

A month later, my mom convinced me to try again and I kept my explanations much more reserved. The new person tried telling me that there was nothing wrong for me and I was wasting her time.

But I went to therapy anyway, I’m managing and living life happily in that aspect now!

Oh, and I brought lemon drops. :D

Open tags

starting a candy salad because i’m bored

so for anyone who doesn’t know how this works, basically, say your name, trauma dump, and tell us what candy you brought!

i’m liggy and one time i accidentally came out as ace to my family at lunch when we were at our cabin, and everyone besides my closeted aroace brother looked at me like i was a psychopath and i explained slightly and was told by my mom it was “just normal teenage girl things.” and i don’t think my mom remembers it because no one’s brought it up and they refer to me defending queer people as “sticking up for my friends” instead of myself and i refuse to come out to my mom now.

anyway i brought the christmas nerds gummy clusters

@garden-of-runar @jamespotterbbg @eef--stars @wistfulenchantress @crowleys-mortalcounterpart +open tag