#as I have done for the last month or so while I silently prepared myself to finally fully let go

[daesungindistress]

[closed]

[lavenderspence]

Missing the happy hormone | S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content warning: emotional reader, period mention, fluff

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Apparently Spencer Reid could make anything better - even the emotional disaster of being on your period

A/N: First, huge thank you to the cutie that sent in this request, you literally caught me while on my period so this was born. Also, here’s to my inability to write short fics, this is your only warning that i can make and will make anything long, lol. Also, my titles suck omg. And shoutout to my crazy bestie for making me a Mamma Mia girly, she rocks.

But also, happy one month to this blog! When I carved out this little space for myself a month ago I wasn’t really sure how I’d feel being back here and writing again, but so far it’s been a treat. A huge thank you for all of your support and love and thank you to my mutuals and everyone that interacted with my blog. 💕 Here’s to many more months to come!

Request: spencer x fem!reader on her period/ovulating and shes in tears all the time?? Im ovulating and have been crying for hours and keep calling my mom lmaoo he’d been so lovely and sweet I know it I can feel it in my bones

masterlist

It was a slow day at the BAU. The most exciting thing in the 6 hours Spencer had spent at work was Rossi’s invitation to dinner the following weekend. 

Paperwork had piled high after their last 2 cases, so every team member was hunched over their desk, writing and revising reports. It was a never-ending cycle - finish a report, close the file, open a new one, and start all over again.

His eyes had started getting tired after four and a half hours, his hand had started cramping and he was down two pens so far, yet there was still a prominent pile on his desk.

He suspected Morgan and Emily might have pushed a file or two from theirs onto his load, seeing as he was getting done the fastest. Regardless, every few hours JJ was bringing even more to pile on top of everything that wasn’t finished, so buried in paperwork they stayed - no matter how fast he wrote or read, or how used to the load he was.

He was just thinking about getting up to prepare a fresh pot of coffee so he could function properly for a few more hours when his phone started ringing. He felt around the pockets of his suit jacket, where it sat draped on his chair, and then pulled it free. 

His display showed an incoming call, a picture of you as he hugged you, hands around your middle and face almost buried into your neck, a soft smile gracing both your faces. A scenery rich with reds, browns, and yellows stood behind you, the beauty of fall was nothing short of spectacular. 

The picture you’d taken last year when the team spent a weekend at Rossi’s cabin in the woods, surrounded by the beauty of landscapes and leaves, nature for miles. 

He accepted the call right away, a small smile on his face. 

“Hey sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, if a little raspy from misuse. He hadn’t talked much in the last few hours - just a distracted short answer here or a hum there. He was happy you were calling, though, welcoming the reprieve from the most recent report. 

It was silent for a few seconds, and he wondered absentmindedly if maybe you hadn’t called him on accident, and then there came a tiny little sniffle from your side. 

“Sweetheart?” He prompted, “Are you there? What’s going on?” Worry was starting to creep into the base of his spine, but he still remained calm and kept his voice gentle. 

“I’m here. Hi.” Another small sniffle, “All’s good. Just…I was just wondering how much longer you’d be gone.” Your voice was small,like you thought you might upset him by asking, and a little crackly, like you yourself were upset about something. 

His eyebrows furrowed, and he checked the time quickly - 3:57 pm. 

“Probably about two more hours, there’s a lot of paperwork we need to go through.” His eyes met Emily’s as she sent him a curious, questioning look. 

“Oh, okay.” The resignation was clear in your voice, “I’ll see you later then.” The call ended abruptly, and it took him a second to catch up.

He couldn’t help but feel like not everything was as good as you claimed it was. For one, you rarely called to ask when he’d be home - you knew his work could span into the late hours, or even stretch for days. You let him update you on any changes in his work schedule. 

In your interactions, your voice was usually upbeat and teasing - especially on the phone. Your kindness was always evident in your voice, as was your mood. You were a sunshine person, if he ever met one, that’s probably why you and Penelope formed such a close bond upon meeting. 

There was something that nagged him - a change in your mood he could pick up on just by your voice - too low, too small, and the cracks that he could now identify as he replayed your conversation in his head. You were keeping yourself from crying out, and yet there was nothing more apparent than the tears in your voice. And that made him worry. 

“Reid, are you okay?” Emily’s voice snapped him from the hard stare he’d been giving his phone in the last several minutes since the call ended. 

“I…I don’t know.” His eye twitched, and he cleared his throat before he tried and failed to articulate exactly what was happening - he himself had a hard time understanding. One thing he knew was that he needed to get home. “I..um, I need to go. Can you, please?” He asked, gusting at the remaining three files on his desk before he pulled his suit jacket on and grabbed his satchel. 

Morgan and Emily shared a mildly concerned look before they both nodded their heads, “Yeah, go. Text to let us know if everything is okay.” Morgan reminded him before he exited the bullpen with a fast step and tried to keep calm.

He was aware the situation wasn’t anything that he needed to be incredibly worried over - if something was really wrong, he knew you would have let him know. Yet, he couldn’t help the way his heart constricted by the sound of your voice, or the overwhelming desire to come home and gently hold you, see what could have caused this behavior. 

You were curled up on the couch, watching as Donna helped Sophie get ready for her wedding, the gentle melody of “Slipping through my fingers” filling the empty apartment. Your eyes were watering, to the point that everything was starting to get blurry. A shaky exhale left your lips.

Today has simply been a rollercoaster. Kissing Spencer goodbye this morning was the highlight of the day. What followed was nothing short of an emotional disaster. 

You’d teared up during breakfast, images of picking berries with Spencer flying through your mind. The desire to make it a reality was strong. 

Following that had come the overwhelming urge to bawl your eyes out, for no apparent reason whatsoever. Just cry and cry until you had it all emptied out and you could take a deep breath and continue with your day. So, cry you did, and then you’d finished with your chores for the day. 

Apparently letting it all out and emptying your tear supply hadn’t happened. Seeing as around 3:30 you’d started missing your boyfriend so much, the need to hear his voice had won out, so you’d called him. You felt the need to have him home to hold you because this month’s visit from mother flow was making you feel like a crybaby.

But then there was disappointment at the notion that you needed to wait close to 3 hours before that could happen. So you quickly ended the call before he could pick up on the tone of your voice, and then you shed a few tears. 

Now here you were, rewatching Mamma Mia because you really needed a pick me up, and once again, eyes shining as the tears started falling. At this point, it was a losing battle, so you let them fall, humming to the song with a broken voice. 

That’s exactly how Spencer found you, not a minute later. His keys were in his hand, the satchel on his shoulder, and he was just a little bit out of breath. 

The moment his eyes met you, they softened as he dropped everything and sat down next to you. His hand reached up and he cradled the side of your face, wiping your tears away. 

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s wrong?” He asked in a whisper.

“Look at Donna painting Sophie’s nails, it’s...” You hiccuped, another wave of tears washing over you. “And you’re home, why are you home?” Your question was met with a furrow in his brow, as his thumbs continued wiping underneath your eyes. 

“You called.” He answered simply. 

“But you said-” He stopped you before you could finish your sentence.

“I did, yes. But you sounded off and sad, so. Want to tell me what’s going on?” He prompted you gently as he pushed your hair back and pulled you into his lap after, feeling like you needed the physical contact. 

You weren’t ashamed to admit it, per se, but you were ashamed that your hormones had caused him to leave work and race home to be with you. 

“It’s my period,” you mumbled, hands wrapping around his neck as you hid your face in his chest, too tired to prevent your eyes from watering again. “It’s been going on all day. Randomly, I’d just get so emotional, and the tears would start. I was missing you so much too, and then hearing the song, bam, tears again. I’m so done with this Spence.” You sounded barely coherent, with your face pushed as close to him as possible. 

It all made sense now, you’d been cranky a few days ago, and then you’d told him last night your cramps were unbearable, so he knew you were on your period, but right now he felt like an idiot for not figuring it out himself. 

“It’s okay, everything is fine. The drop in estrogen and progesterone, following your ovulation triggered this. This in turn reduced the production of serotonin, your happy hormone. So, we just need to boost it a bit.” He whispered into your ear as you played with the hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“How?” You sighed into his chest, almost being able to pick up on the sound of his heartbeat.

He got deep in thought for a few seconds as you breathed in his scent, and a sense of calmness slowly overtook you now that he was home and holding you. One of his hands was running soothing circles on your back as the other held your hand, fingers interlocked. 

“How about we take a trip to the store and get you some snacks? We’ll pick up dinner on the way home and then I'll hold you some more and you'll pick a movie for us to watch.” He suggested, kissing the crown of your head once, twice, and many more times until you gave him an answer. 

“Yeah, yeah, I think that would help, but just having you here has done wonders.” You finally laid your head against his chest, looking up to meet his eyes. He smiled, and so did you. Having him here really had helped immensely, and when had it not? He was your other half, your rock, and even when your emotions ran rampant or you were feeling down, just his presence, his touch, and his understanding were enough to make it all okay. 

Later in the evening, Penelope sent you a photo of Sergio sleep-hugging a little plushy you’d gotten him, and the waterworks started all over again. Luckily, Spencer was there, wiping your tears and kissing your head, saying a thousand things without actually speaking a word.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Requests are open for both Spencer and Hotch if you want to send any!

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain x Curly

Previous - Part 7 - Next

Warning: Abortion mention.

You were watching the ultrasound you were doing on Anya, and you ran your hand over your face upon seeing the fetus.

"When"

Anya: "...I found out just before the crash..."

"Why didn't you tell me?" You turned to look at Curly on the stretcher and then saw Anya, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Anya: "For a moment I thought that... you wouldn't do anything for me either... and then, with all the responsibility you had on your shoulders... I didn't want to give you more problems."

"Why did you think I wasn't going to help you?"

Anya: "...You were always on the captain's side..."

"Well, when he had reasonable decisions, of course I agreed! Ugh... I don't want to talk about this now, let's focus on this now... How many weeks approximately?"

Anya: "...14 weeks..."

"Great, you're still on time. I know I ordered misoprostol, it must be somewhere."

Anya: "What's that?"

"It would help you to abort"

Anya: "How did you manage to get them to add that?"

"Well, I lied saying that some of the crew had gastric ulcers due to the consumption of aspirin to treat the inflammation caused by radiation when they had to go on walks outside the ship... And I sent Curly to ask for it so they didn't ask questions."

You mentioned searching through the cabinets for that medication until you found the tablet and handed it to her.

"I warn you that it's going to be hell, it's completely your decision, and I'll be with you to help you with all this."

You said, holding the pills while she watched you, slowly taking the box.

Anya: "How do you know?"

You fell silent and your eyes quickly moved to give Curly a glance, and then back to Anya, who understood immediately.

"Those are the side effects mentioned in the content if you take them when you are pregnant."

You told him right away and then sat down sighing.

Anya: "You look tired... Shall we grab a drink?"

You knew very well why he was saying that now, but you nodded to leave that place, not without first greeting your husband, letting him know you would be back soon.

Anya: "How was that?"

"I had gotten pregnant a few years ago, and we were about to make a new delivery, before that I asked Curly for a new load of medications, I was going to finish it myself on the ship."

Anya: "Why didn't you stay? Why didn't you do it in a safe way?"

"They keep an eye on everything you do, and they judge you. I wouldn't have gotten this job back, they would have done thousands of physical and mental tests to tell me I wasn't qualified to be co-captain... And I didn't want Curly to find out either."

You shrugged and took a seat while you prepared what was like hot chocolate, placing the powder in some cups and pouring water over them.

Anya: "Didn't he suspect anything?"

"I knew how to hide it, at that time there were only men on the ship, I lied saying it was my period, no one cared enough to ask more questions... Although Curly was very worried, he couldn't neglect his work that much either."

Anya: "...How was it? I want to know exactly what I'm going to face."

"...Hemorrhages, pelvic pain, depression, infections.... infertility"

You looked at the cup in your hands while saying this last part, taking a sip of its contents.

Anya: "...There aren't too many painkillers left in the nursery... Not for the three of us... Not for all this time we have to wait-"

She pressed her lips together as she placed her hand on her belly and tightened her uniform.

"Oh right, I haven't told you yet, the ship is heading to a Pony Express station, there we can ask for a rescue, we'll arrive in two more months."

Anya: "Even so, there aren't enough."

"I've already endured hell, I can do it again, don't worry about my dose."

Anya: "But-"

"Think about yourself! Please! Stop thinking about others!"

You slammed the cup against the table, causing a bit of the liquid to spill.

"It's your decision... Just...Decide... For you, not for others."

Anya: "Captain..."

You lifted your head upon hearing her say that, and you could see a small smile on her lips.

Anya: "Thank you"

[redzie02]

okay so I have an idea for an angsty Hongjoong fic. (poorly written) feel free to use this and if u do, tag me!! So I can support and reblog and give u a lil kiss on the forehead<3 add smut to it or not idc as long as he’s on his knees and begging for forgiveness,,, i was half asleep when I wrote this btw masterlist

Hear me out. For the past month, Hongjoong has been drowning himself in work. Work seems to be the only thing he cares about, he’s rarely ever home. And he definitely hasn’t made any time for you:(. It doesn’t help that you’ve maybe had the worst month of your life and no one to talk to about it. Your mental health has been spiraling and it’s only gotten worse since Hongjoong’s lack of attention in the relationship.

I guess one day you’ve finally had enough and blow up on him or decide to give him the silent treatment all day. I mean, it works, Hongjoong FINALLY notices something might be wrong after 3 whole weeks.

When you guys get home after dinner with the group, he asks, “what’s wrong?” You don’t reply, completely ignoring him and heading straight to the bathroom to shower. He follows you, a little frustrated and confused, and he watches as you undress and step into the shower acting as if he wasn’t there.

Hongjoong watches in silence, dread and anxiety growing in him. While scrubbing your body, you don’t realize Hongjoong undressed, preparing to get into the shower with you. He was determined to get you to talk.

The sound of the shower door sliding open startles you a bit but you roll your eyes when you see Hongjoong step in. You’re tired. You’ve been tired for weeks so your voice comes out monotonous and low, “Please get out, Hongjoong. I don’t want to yell at you.” Your back facing him.

You take a few more deep breaths, his hands still on your shoulders. He tilts his head to get a better look at your face. Your eyes are closed, squeezed shut actually. He tilts your head up with his fingers, this is the most intimate you guys have been in a while, you realize. The realization only makes your stomach hurt. “Please, please talk to me.”

You’re defiant, you don’t look in his eyes. If this wasn’t as serious as it was, he’d say you were acting like a brat and fix your brattish ways.

You slowly open your eyes, looking at his face but not exactly making eye contact. “You haven’t done anything, Hongjoong. That’s the problem.” He really is an idiot because his brows furrow like he has no clue what you’re talking about. You let out a frustrated sigh and continue. “When was the last time we were this close, hm? Or had an actual conversation? You’re never home and I never know what you’re doing.”

“I-“

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to pretend I know about whatever is going on with you when Seonghwa or San talk about it? To find out about your upcoming projects from your friends, but not you? How is it that I hear more from them than the actual person I live with? Hm? Do you even know what’s been going on in my life? No, you haven’t even cared to ask, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong stood with his lips parted, processing everything. Guilt clawed at him because he knew you were right. He’d been ignoring the love of his life because he prioritized his career over you. Something he never thought he’d do. He’d been ignoring his own health as well, meals left unfinished and surviving on just a few hours of sleep a night. He had lost weight, the bags under his eyes were darker than ever, not that he noticed.

Of course you worried about him, that’s all you ever do, but he never stuck around long enough to address your concerns.

He blinked, putting a hand on your cheek. “I-baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize-“

“No, I’m not accepting your apology until you actually show me. I don’t just want words.” He nods and opens his mouth to speak, but you interrupt him, wanting to get everything out in the open in fear of not getting the chance to do so in the future. You sigh. “I-I feel like I haven’t been myself lately and I wish I had you here to talk to. You always make me feel better but I don’t know…I don’t know if something’s changed or if it’s me…if you want something or someone else-“

“No, no y/n. I’m sorry- about everything. I’ve been so wrapped up in work that I haven’t been taking care of you the way I should. I’m sorry that I made you feel as if I didn’t want you. I promise, I love you with everything that I am and everything that I have. I know it’s my fault and I hate that I made you feel anything less than loved. Things will change- I will be better and I swear on it, okay?”

You nod. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself either, Joong.”

And um I guess you wash each other up, taking your time, then head back to the bedroom. You lay down and stare at each other, caressing each other. You guys catch up. Hongjoong tells you every little detail about stuff he’s been working on and you tell him about all the stress from work you’ve been through and your deteriorating mental health :). Of course he shows you with his actions just how sorry he is- in more ways than one. Maybe this is where one would insert smut.

But yeah, this post is rough, if anyone would like to use this as inspo or expand on it and make it better, feel free to and tag me ;)!!

[emithecharmer]

The Right Guy

Friends to lovers, swearing, talks of weight loss ( 1 time) kissing, fluffy. Sorry for any mistakes!

"Am I like..pretty?" You asked out of the blue, making your best friend tilt his head as he looked at you.

"I mean, yeah?"

"Okay, am I interesting? Or funny?" He nodded, his brows furrowing as you sighed and threw your head back.

"Then why can't I get a fucking call back? I've gone out with 4 different guys, in the span of like- a month, and nothing."

"They're idiots."

"That's what I keep telling myself, but, maybe there's something wrong with me." You pouted slightly, walking over to Hyunjin's floor length mirror.

"I guess I could lose some weight, that might change things."

"Y/n, you don't have to change, you just need to find the right guy." He turned away slightly, rolling his eyes, practically screaming at himself.

"I'm not even sure there is a right guy! I'm so done with men." He couldn't help the giggle that bubbled up in him, trying to subdue it when you turned to him quickly.

"What? Why are you laughing? I'm serious!" He smiled as he held his arms open for you. He stood up as he slowly walked over and let him hug you.

"You're perfect okay? There are some dumb guys out there, and if they're too caught up in their own ways to recognize a gorgeous rose like you when they see one, then I'll just have you to myself for a little while longer." You frowned at that last sentence.

"What do you mean?" He chuckled quietly as he let go, stepping back.

"I'm sure your future boyfriend wouldn't really appreciate that you have a guy best friend, let alone a straight guy best friend." You smiled and rolled your eyes, laughing airily. Hyunjin swore his heart skipped at the sound of your laughter bouncing off the walls of his bedroom.

"Yeah, but you don't like me like that, so it's fine, right?"

"Would you let your boyfriend have a straight girl best friend, or- not let- but like- be comfortable." You paused and he saw your eyes droop a bit as you thought about it.

"I guess not.."

"And who are you to say I don't feel that way about you." You eyes jumped to his, and he saw your posture straighten.

"What?" Your voice was quiet, and it made Hyunjin want to sink into the floor.

"Y/n, I'm the right guy. I'm here and I've waited for so long." He sighed, smiling nervously as he threw his head back in frustration.

"Hyunjin, what." It wasn't a question anymore, it was more of an accusation, and it made Hyunjin a bit anxious that he should have kept his mouth shut.

"One chance, just let me show you how a real man treats a woman. Let me show you how you should be cared for." You were completely silent, and he could feel his heart begging to burst out of his chest.

"Come here." He stayed put, too scared to move, so you did instead. You walked the few steps that were between the both of you, wrapped your arms softly around his neck, and brought his lips down to your own.

It was nothing like you imagined, sure you'd both been harboring feelings, too scared to act on them due to the threat of your friendship being ruined. But nothing could have prepared you for the amount of emotion that Hyunjin relayed through the kiss, as soon as he grasped onto what was happening. When you both pulled away, all you could see was a blurry Hyunjin, who cupped your face, and wiped your stray tears, before bringing you in for another kiss.

When you parted, you both smiled, and wordlessly knew that everything had changed for the better. No relationship was ruined, but rather, a new, beautiful one, was created.

[barcalover86]

Hai lovely! Please don’t ever apologise for taking more time to write requests!! Every piece of writing is exceptional and I can’t wait to read more!! 🫶🏻

The end of all - Pablo Gavi (headcanon)

| I kept this in my drafts and I want to thank you so much for your nice comment! This one is for you anon! Enjoy ♡

I am sitting now next to his tired body. I always found him so beautiful when he was sleeping.

In order to smile at the boy, I turn around, now my back facing him. It's 2 in the morning and my mind can't let me sleep, like the last few months. A sob escapes my mouth, hoping it wasn't too loud to wake up the one that was sleeping besides me.

'Last day of suffering, y/n' I was consequently repeating myself. 'Last night'.

All night I couldn't sleep and I was the only one to blame here. I had to do this weeks before.

Looking next to me, I see no one, as usual. Gavi went to training earlier again. I sighed, waking up from the bed to prepare some food for him when he will come back.

After hours, the footballer finally arrived home, now late than ever. I smile softly at him while he returns it.

"Hola" he said first, while giving me a short hug. "Wanna eat with me?"

"We need to have a talk, Pablo."

He looked confused, trying to remember if he had done something wrong. Which in a way, he didn't.

When he gave me those eyes, I wanted to hold him like nothing mattered. I was blaming myself for not doing that years ago.

"Are you ok?"

"Pablo, I love you." I said, but before he could reply with the same thing, I shouted him up. "No. No, Pablo."

He left the food from the table and came closer to me.

"What's wrong?"

"I would have done everything for you to keep loving me. I know you fell out of it for months."

Now, he wasn't saying anything anymore, looking down.

"I really wanted to be your special one, Pablo. I thought you were the special one for me and I'm so sorry that you couldn't find the strong to tell me that. It means that you are afraid of my reaction, and I get that. But, living this past months.. alone.. trying to make this relationship work. I can't do that alone. First I thought I could get you back to me, but then-"

"Y/n-"

"I'm not mad at you."

He looked at me with tears in his eyes. "If I could choose to love someone, it would be you. I don't know why I can't anymore-"

"And that's ok" I said, putting my hands on his cheeks, smiling softly.

I knew from the beginning that Gavi was a boy with a big heart. I couldn't be mad at someone who took care of me when I was sick. Who slept beside me when I was crying or scared. I knew he wanted to love me.

"But I respect you and want to find your true love."

"That's why I didn't tell you." he cried. "I want you to be the one"

I sighed. I wanted him to be the one too. I didn't say that though, I just went to him and hugged him. His arms immediately covered my waist.

"Thank you for everything." I lastly said.

He kissed my cheek.

"I'm sorry."

-----

After days, Gavi talked to the club, telling them to film him as little as possible, not wanting to be in the spot right now.

He would sleep a lot, thinking about what he did wrong.

He would keep the food you made for days until he was screamed at to throw it.

He would look at your photos while crying.

He would want to text you, but he knew it was a wrong decision.

Even if his love for you was over, it felt like something inside of him died. He felt like it was all his fault for letting you go.

He would eat less and perform a bit different. Not concentrating enough.

If someone asked about you, he would remain silent.

He would find a way to see you, missing you badly.

It would be a long time until he would find another girl, but he would still think about you from time to time.

This one is kinda weird gg

2nd Masterlist

[kit-kat-katie]

one last time, for us

A/N: I'm late on my once-a-month upload, but I have the final chapter of Our Time for you to enjoy! ❤️ I loved writing this series, and I hope everyone enjoyed playing it!

TW: Canon-levels of violence and abuse, main character death, angst from beginning to end with a bit of a sweet side

Pairing: Finnick x GN! Reader (Romantic)

Summary: After the revelations that come from freeing the Victors in the Capitol, everything in your world comes crashing down. You have to find a way to fight through the present, even if it means trudging through memories of the past.

(<- Previous Part | Series Masterlist)

“Annie?” Your voice rings out among the waves that crash against the shore.

She mumbles something into her hair as you take a seat next to her.

“I find the waves to be relaxing, especially on nights like this.” You say before turning to Annie.

She bows her head in response while continuing to mutter to herself.

You realize that you’ve interrupted her moment of solace - a moment where her mind is silent, and peace settles over her whole being.

“I’m sorry. I’m bothering you, aren’t I?”

You go to stand up, only for Annie to stop you with a hand on your arm.

“Stay. Please stay.” Her eyes are distant as she looks at you.

“Of course.” You sit back down and silently stare at the waves with Annie.

That would be the last conversation you would ever have with her.

~

You didn’t get out of bed for two days. Better than Finnick, who lasted three days in bed.

To say that morale was damper in District 13 would be an understatement. When you left your bed, everyone had their heads held low as you passed them. 

You had gotten back the victors that were captured, but what else did you lose? The hope that you once had for your fellow District 4 victors?

Johanna was irreversibly changed - of course she was, days upon days of torture would do that to you - but it felt like she was the only person you could talk to.

“I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever cared about, so President Snow,” She says in a mocking tone, “hurt the only person I have left - myself.”

“I couldn’t imagine-” You start as she shakes her head and sits up in bed.

“-Don’t waste your breath, Sunny. I don’t need your empathy, neither does Katniss.” Johanna scoffs. 

“What do we do now?”

“We wait, we prepare, and then we give them hell.”

~

Mags smiles as you enter her home in the Victors’ Village. She offers you a baked treat that you gladly take.

You follow her eyes to the window, where she stares at Finnick and Annie talking outside.

“Thank you for inviting me inside of your home. I could use the distraction.”

Mags turns away and lightly grabs your shoulder.

“No, I’m alright, I’ve just been having nightmares again. Nothing I can’t deal with.” You try to give a convincing smile, but it doesn’t persuade Mags in the slightest.

She gently guides you to her dining room as you take a seat in one of her chairs. She sits opposite of you as you place your hands on the table.

“It’s the same nightmares as usual, about the ones I…” You pause, before remembering a mentor’s advice, “killed. But I didn’t have a choice, and I didn’t want to-”

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, but you quickly bat them away with a weak smile.

“There’s nothing I can change about that now. I can only face the present and hope that the future will be better.”

Mags reaches over and grabs your arm as an undistinguishable expression falls onto her face.

As you look into her eyes, you can tell what she’s feeling.

Pride. Hope. Anticipation.

And a spark, the tiniest spark, of happiness.

~

“I’m not hungry.” Katniss pushes the plate of food away from you as you sigh.

“I know you don’t want to deal with me, I get it, but Plutarch and Haymitch made me do this. It’s easier for both of us if you eat, or at least, pretend to.” You gruffly say as she looks at you in surprise.

“What happened to Sunny?” She asks you.

“They got a harsh reminder of where we are, and what we’ve done.” You solemnly say as you hold the spoon out for her to grab. “Eat. Please.”

You’re expecting more of a fight, but she grabs the spoon and starts eating the food in front of her.

You smile, a rarity for these days. For once, you feel in control of your destiny, as if you have a chance to impact things again.

Just a moment, before things spiral out of your control.

~

“You should go.” You struggle to put your knee brace on before Finnick comes to your aid.

“You need me here, and I can’t leave you, not after-”

“-I can handle myself, despite what it looks like.” You watch as Finnick finishes putting on the brace. “They need fighters, like you.”

“What about you, Sunny?” He tilts his head at you as you lean back in the chair.

“My fighting days are over. The best thing I can do for the revolution is stay hopeful and help where I can.” You extend your hand, which Finnick grabs. “I’ll be fine. I should be worried about you, instead of the other way around.”

Silence engulfs you both as you pull his hand to your lips and give it a quick kiss.

“I can see how much you need this. You stare longingly at the tridents that Beetee has made, just as you did when we were in District Four.”

Finnick smiles as he takes his other hand and grabs your arm.

“You noticed that?”

“Of course I did!” You softly laugh. “You refused to go fishing with a pole or net - you always had to use a trident.”

“It was just… easier that way.” He shrugs before he sadly looks away. “I don’t know if I can fight again, not after-”

“-They would want you to fight, as do I.” You lightly squeeze his hand. “Do it for Annie. For Mags. For every victor and child whose life was changed or ended too soon.”

“For you?” He tilts his head at you.

“I thought that was implied.” You smile at him before leaning in and giving him a kiss. “Go on the next cargo ship over. They’re leaving in a few hours to bring supplies to the front lines.”

He stands up, but doesn’t let go of your hand.

“I love you.”

It’s quiet, soft, and sweet - just the way you imagined those words falling from his lips.

“I love you too.”

He kisses you again - with more passion this time, before letting go of your hand and exiting your shared living quarters.

A silent tear falls down your face, as if you knew the future before it happened.

You wanted your last moment with him to be happy, and it was.

~

“Where will you go?” Johanna asks as you sit on the stairs of the President’s Mansion.

You all have done it. Snow was to be executed, and a new government to be put in place. But what about those you had lost?

You bite your lip before tears fall down your cheeks.

“Home. I’m going to arrange a service for Annie, Mags,” You bow your head before a sob breaks from your throat, “and Finnick.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” 

You’d normally tease Johanna for her genuine concern for you at this moment, but you didn’t have it in you. You were tired, you were angry, and you were mourning.

“That’d be nice. I could use someone to help pick up the pieces.” You pull your jacket over your shoulders as a light breeze glides into the area. “What about you?”

“I don’t know yet.” She shrugs before looking at everything around you. “There’s no family for me to go back to, so it doesn’t make sense to go back to District 7. District 13 certainly doesn’t feel like home, not with those doctors and their needles-” She shudders as you do the same.

“-You can stay with me, if you’d like.” Her eyes widen as you nervously bite your lip. “I’ll make sure that we’re far away from the ocean or any body of water.”

“Sounds nice.” She mutters as you fall into a comfortable silence.

“Do you…” You pause before Johanna looks over at you. “Do you think it was wrong of me to tell Finnick to fight?”

“We both know that he would’ve found his way to the frontlines of the fight. It’s not like him to sit back and watch,” She looks over at you with pity, “and you shouldn’t blame yourself for this. For anything that’s happened.”

“Thanks, Johanna.” You say as you look up at the sky.

If you weren’t having such a shitty day, you’d say that the sky looked prettier than it ever did.

~

As expected, the Victor’s Village in District 4 was a mess. Windows were smashed, doors were torn off their hinges, and furniture was thrown out of homes and into gardens and walkways.

There must’ve been a mad rush from Capitol forces to find the victors who had escaped, and to take the ones who hadn’t. You were lucky to be gone from this place, and it crushed you to see it in such disarray.

As you approach Finnick’s home, Johanna lingers behind you.

“You go first. I think it’s better if you poke around there first.” She says as you place your hand on the door frame, where the door once was.

“Afraid of something in there?” You joke as she rolls her eyes.

“Very funny, Sunny,” She leans against a nearby building as a smile appears on her face, “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Me too.” You mumble before stepping inside.

Everything that was once orderly and neat was now a complete mess. A hurricane going through Finnick’s house would cause less damage than this. 

With the beating that the walls appeared to have taken, you’re surprised that the house is still standing.

I should be quick, just in case.

Finnick wasn’t much for sentimental items, so there was little decor in the house besides what you and the other Victors had given him. There was one item in particular you were looking for - a seashell you had given him when you had arrived back in District 4 after winning your first Hunger Games. 

He said he had still kept it, years later, but where was it? You had checked downstairs, in every cabinet and drawer, and the upstairs didn’t look too promising as you approached the last room you needed to search - his bedroom.

You opened the doors to his room, and his scent washes over you. Despite the ruin downstairs and the minor damage upstairs, this room seemed to be untouched.

Odd.

Your eyes look over his dresser, the closet, and his desk before you notice that the drawer by his nightstand was open.

You rush over to it, and you sigh in relief as you find the seashell.

You hold the seashell to your chest as a soft tear makes its way down your cheek - one of the last things you had to remind you of Finnick. A happy memory, nonetheless.

The drawer isn’t completely empty, though - a note sits in there, tucked into a pretty envelope.

It’s addressed to me.

~

Finnick wasn’t a wordsmith, not in the slightest, but he had to get these thoughts out of his mind and onto a piece of paper. If not for the sake of his sleep schedule, but for his sanity as well.

He looks over at the seashell you gave him, and he smiles fondly. This note was for you, it had to be special.

Like a gentle stream, the words came easy to him when Finnick started writing. He wrote to you about your first meeting, about how proud he was of you, and everything he loved about you.

Love? Was that too strong of any emotion, too soon?

It wasn’t like you were going to read this letter - it was for him to look back and admire when he had a nightmare and needed some comfort. 

You could always come and knock on his door when he needed comfort, but he felt guilty doing the same thing - he was your mentor, after all, and that dynamic still stuck with him. 

He was supposed to watch out for you, but somehow, it evolved into something more.

He stares at the letter in front of him - it was supposed to be one page, but had quickly become three instead. Finnick chuckles to himself before grabbing an envelope - you had a way of making him push himself further, past what he thought was possible.

The letter is neatly tucked into the envelope as Finnick looks out over the rest of the Victors’ Village. It was pitch-black outside, and he should be sleeping.

You’d probably scold him for looking so tired in the morning.

He’d probably enjoy it, just as he did every day.

The pen wrote your name on the envelope before he thought to stop his own hand, but he didn't scratch it out or grab another envelope.

Perhaps he’d give it to you, someday.

A day where you both had time to spend with each other.

tagging ->@yokolesbianism , @avoxrising, @honethatty12, @sweetybuzz25, @catvader101, @sollum, @emerald-valkyrie, @randomgurl2326, @caitsymichelle13, @bcbci, @iris1587, @hi-im-fan-trash (thank you all for your support on this series!)

[kisskiss-slashslash]

Hello can I request a jason voorhees x reader oneshot were the reader is like mabel pines, a silly goofball ray of sunshine and they have a brother who is the complete opposite and he wants to try and spot the infamous crystal lake killer so he and the reader joins a school trip to the camp for a week and the brother is annyied at how social and silly the reader us and he just stays in his cabin looking up ways to catch jason and the reader goes out to a flower field to make flower crowns and sees him, not knowing that it's jason voorhees and sneaks behind him and places a flower crown on his head and over the week the see eachother in secret and on the last day the brother is frustrated and gives up on finding jason but then the reader shows up on jasons shoulders and is like "hey bro meet my new boyfriend, Jay"

Sounds like a lot of fun 😁

Jason with a Mabel and Dipper Pines-like duo

You always teased your brother for his obsession with serial killers and the supernatural, and you don’t intend on stopping soon.

Coming to Camp Crystal Lake had been his idea; right now, he was convinced that he could somehow catch the legendary Crystal Lake killer.

You didn’t really care either way; this was a summer camp, and that meant so many opportunities for fun!

“And remember, keep your eyes peeled”, your brother cautioned you as you stepped off the bus.

“Aw, don’t worry. I can take care of myself.” You poked him in the ribs and blew a raspberry, which caused him to roll his eyes.

“This is serious!”

You giggled. “Come on, we should have fun!”

“You always have fun”, he grumbled, baffled by your ability to make a game of pretty much everything. “We’re not kids anymore, you know?”

“Alright, Mr. Adult. So just because we turned 18 last month, we have to always be super serious?”

Annoyed, he pushes a hunting knife into your hand. “Whatever. Keep this on you incase you need to defend yourself. I’ll go to our cabin to prepare for the hunt.”

Another girl from your highschool class catches up to you and dryly tells you:”You two are both weirdos.”

“Thanks for noticing!”, you tell her with the brighest, most sincere smile.

While your brother is busy “making plans”, you decide to explore a little. The forest around Crystal Lake is vast and full of interesting plants and critters. At some point, you find a small clearing where some beautiful flowers grow, and decide to make flower crowns to give to the other campers. Who doesn’t like a flower crown?

Once one is done, you spot a tall man walking through the forest around the clearing, and you figure that he must be part of the camp as well. So you quickly sneak up behind him and throw a flowercrown up on his head. It lands a bit askew, but it stays, and he stops and turns around, wide-eyed, once he touched the fragile crown and confirmed that it was indeed just flowers.

“Hi! Nice to meet you! Are you working at the camp?”

He doesn’t answer, so you think to yourself “oh, he’s the strong, silent type”.

“What’s your name?”, you ask further. Again, no reply, and you are so lost in the one-sided conversation that you don’t notice how absolutely baffled the man is at your friendliness.

Your brother is so caught up in his planning for the next few days that he doesn’t even question why you seem to disappear every day. But finally, the last day of camp has come, and he camee up with precisely nothing. Until you come back with Jason, casually holding his hand.

“Meet my new boyfriend!”

Your brother looks at you in horror. “Whaaaat the- Get away from him, that’s the killer!”

For a second, the bright smile fades form your face. “Rude.” But it returns as soon as you turn back to Jason. “Don’t listen to him. My brother is a bit crazy about these kinds of stories.”

And as you walk out with Jason by your side, your brother desperately tries to stammer out another warning, too terrified to speak clearly.

[imakemywings]

For the femslash requests: Mithrellas x Nimrodel with one carrying the other in her arms

Hi anon!! I actually had to do some research to remind myself who these characters are exactly but then I got a bit carried away so...here's all this.

Here's also a fun version of the song of Nimrodel, which Legolas sings for the Fellowship in FotR!

Summary: Mithrellas would follow Nimrodel anywhere--even across the Sundering Seas--but fate has other things in store.

Length: 4.8k

This fills the "F/F," "history," and "ace/aro" squares on Fellowship of the Fics' Pride Month bingo.

AO3 | Pillowfort | SWG

Where She Wanders None Can Tell

Long ago had Mithrellas made her choice. When Nimrodel had come among them speaking words that sparked like fire and pushed like river currents, Mithrellas reoriented towards her, and with her went her cousin Almmir and her brother Enelion, and for many years they followed Nimrodel. Now Almmir lay beneath one of the elms from which she took her name, and Enelion was departed to live among the sedentary, settled Elves of Lothlorien, but not before a terrible parting quarrel with Mithrellas.

(Traitor, Mithrellas had accused in her fey temper, You abandon everything we have stood for!)

Yet the hour was come when proud Nimrodel’s resistance to King Amroth’s proposal at last expired; Mithrellas had stood by the eaves of Fangorn Forest while the pair plighted their troth and Nimrodel agreed to follow him west, and over the Sundering Seas.

And Mithrellas was to go with her.  

Once, Nimrodel, full-throated and straight-backed, had decried the very notion of village-building, and chastised with fire and brimstone these newcome Elves from the west who ate up land and stirred up trouble. She disdained the settlement of Lothlorien and refused to speak other Elvish tongues. Now, she had confessed lowly to Mithrellas, tucked against the bole of a tree in the twilight, it seemed all other paths had been closed to them. A balrog sundered Moria to pieces, and there were whispers of a shadow growing in the Greenwood, and Fangorn whence they fled from Lorien had closed itself to them. Moreover, Amroth whom she loved meant to leave these lands for good.

Who will rule in Lorien after him? Nimrodel asked. For doubtless there would be a new lord, and she did not believe it would be anyone as trustworthy.

Mithrellas meant to tell her to fight. She meant to echo some of Nimrodel’s own stirring words and infectious passions. But Mithrellas had no gift of tongue, and before Nimrodel in particular she faltered, and so she said nothing, and Nimrodel kept her own counsel.

Still Mithrellas was silent as to her thoughts while they assembled themselves for the journey westward. Amroth and Nimrodel meant to leave immediately with Amroth’s small company of staff and what of the remnants of Nimrodel’s band that would follow her so far.

On the morning of their final preparations, Mithrellas combed out Nimrodel’s glossy black hair, and tied it up in a braid that hung to her ankles. Accustomed to traveling afoot, they had been prepared to leave much behind to hasten the journey west, but Amroth had supplied mounts, and Nimrodel’s followers found them more than adequate to carry everything. They were, after all, nomads.

“You keep quiet counsel,” Nimrodel observed as Mithrellas carefully arranged a few sacks of food onto one of the saddles. The sunlight gleamed off her hair and Mithrellas wondered if they ought to produce the summer hoods, to keep them from taking too much sun on such a long, exposed ride.

“Nothing have I to add,” Mithrellas replied, tightening a strap.

“Nothing? Or disapproval?” Nimrodel speculated. Mithrellas’ hands slowed, then stopped.

“I go whence my lady goes,” she said at last, staring at the horse’s flank. “There is naught in it for me to approve or disapprove.”

“Mithrellas has no opinion on this journey?”

“Mithrellas has chores to be done,” answered she. Now she looked at Nimrodel. “And what counsel she has, she has given.”

“As I have spoken, none are obliged to make this journey with me,” Nimrodel said. “Doubtless Enelion would welcome you into his home, if your preference was to remain.”

“It is not,” said Mithrellas. “Not in absence of my lady.”

Long Nimrodel regarded her, the brightness of the sun only just reaching the edges of her loam-dark eyes. At last she said: “Nothing have I done to warrant such loyalty, yet all the same, I will be glad with your presence. These are troubled times, and yours is a soothing companionship.” For a moment, Mithrellas thought that Nimrodel meant to touch her, and she held her breath, but at length the lady only nodded and departed to preparations of her own.

***

The sun shone invitingly on their traveling band through all the start of their journey, so that even Mithrellas felt inclined to tentative optimism. Nimrodel rode at the head with Amroth, and Mithrellas in the back with another to ensure none fell behind. Nimrodel sat her saddle with a back as straight as an oak, but Mithrellas caught the little twitches of her head each time she knew Nimrodel wished to look back, but dared not give the impression of second-guessing her choice. Occasionally, the sound of Amroth’s voice reached back, borne on the wind, doubtless reassuring Nimrodel that she had made the right decision.

Mithrellas occasionally was obligated to glance back to make sure they had dropped nothing, and she tried to draw in these last looks at their homeland for the sake of Nimrodel.

At night they rested the horses and Nimrodel’s remaining people sat alongside Amroth’s and together they ate, and on one upbeat night, traded folk songs one after another.

But the foreboding of Mithrellas and Nimrodel was proven not all amiss when they reached the White Mountains. Knowing the danger of the path, the Elves had girded themselves to contend with those beings which inhabited the mountains, including goblins, giants who took none too kindly to trespass, and remnants of Morgoth’s creatures which gathered in hazardous places where Elves and Men seldom lingered.

What proved most treacherous after all, though, was the weather.

Even at this gentler time of year, for which reason Amroth had urged Nimrodel to accept now rather than wait until the year waned, the mountains were formidable, and the weather like to change on a whim.

Halfway through their first day into the pass, rain began to lash the company, and it did not let up until they were near to elevation, at which point the rain dissolved into a seemingly impenetrable fog. Landslides, rockfalls, and bolting horses contributed to the chaos, until Mithrellas and Nimrodel had only three other Elves alongside them, and had lost sight of Amroth and his men entirely.

“We must carry on!” Nimrodel insisted, her voice echoing against the rock. She bled from a gash across her right cheek and ear where a fragment of stone had struck her. “Amroth will wait for us on the other side, if needs be!”

By the time they reached the downside of the mountains, Mithrellas and Nimrodel were alone.

The mountain reclined into forest, where fog once more enveloped them amidst the thick foliage of that ancient wood. There was no path on which to walk, nor was either woman familiar with this place, and the horses and Silvan had committed acts of mutual abandonment so that Mithrellas and Nimrodel were on foot and bare of their provisions.

All her life Mithrellas had spent in the loving if occasionally stern embrace of the trees, and yet to stand there in that forest made her skin crawl as if she were a rabbit under the shadow of an owl.

Nimrodel looked about them in bewilderment, seeing no sign of Amroth, nor of the others of the company, nor of their mounts, and Mithrellas suspected her iron-willed lady was close to a breaking point.

“We must carry on!” Mithrellas echoed. “Amroth will await you beyond this foul wood!” It was not like her to cast such aspersions on a plant of any kind, but such were her nerves at that time.

Nimrodel spoke not, but they moved forward through the wood, taking turns at the lead. Mithrellas refused to look back; she did not want to see how deep into the forest they had gone, and she wished to give Nimrodel the reassurance of thinking that Mithrellas was certain of their course.

It was only when she paused in her blundering forward that she realized she could no longer hear Nimrodel’s steps behind her.

“My lady?” She turned back. “My lady?” It was possible Nimrodel had stepped into the foliage only for a moment, but unusual not to ask for a halt. When no answer came, Mithrellas tried again, panic beginning to swell her throat. “My lady, are you there? Please, answer me!”

There was only the wind in the trees, and the dying screech of some small animal—a rabbit, perhaps.

“My lady!” Mithrellas began to run back the way they had come, and she had gone but a few yards when she spied Nimrodel prone on the ground. “My lady!”

Nimrodel did not stir when Mithrellas rolled her over, nor did she wake when Mithrellas pinched her cheeks.

“Never fear, my lady,” she panted, dragging Nimrodel upright to scoop her into her arms. “I will see us through.” Nimrodel had led long enough—let it be Mithrellas now who was the pillar on which to lean.

Mithrellas had feared days of travel, but the woods came to an end by the close of day—or nearabout as Mithrellas could tell under such cloud cover—and not in all those hours did it cease to torment them. Every sound was an alarm; her face was stung with nettles; the howl of wolves chased at their heels; and the fog, the fog which covered all, which netted them up like flies in a web; which denied Mithrellas any sense of direction so that they were stumbling out of the eaves of the forest before she even knew it was over.

Heavily it seemed she felt Nimrodel’s weight as she staggered with relief through the thinning underbrush.

“Done,” she gasped. “That’s done!” Yet when she looked down to give Nimrodel a smile, her arms were empty, and the weight was gone. Eyes flying open, mouth agape, Mithrellas whipped about.

“My lady?” she cried, the register of her voice leaping to a hysterical squeal. “My lady!” She ran in circles around the edge of the forest, thoroughly convincing herself she could have dropped Nimrodel and somehow not noticed. “My lady!”

The trees loomed dark and jagged out of the obliterating fog, and Mithrellas panted like a trapped animal.

But she had made her choice long ago.

Back into the forest she went, beating through the foliage, looking for some evidence which did not exist.

“My lady!” she wailed. “My lady! Nimrodel!”

***

Two years Mithrellas spent in the forest in Dor-en-Ernil, trying to bury a fact she had known in her heart from the first moment she stepped back into the woods: there would be no sign of Nimrodel’s fate. Yet for the sake of one beloved, one may convince oneself of many things. At times, Mithrellas felt certain even that she had entered the forest alone, that Nimrodel must have remained behind in the mountains, and she ranged about there as well, but found no trace of Nimrodel, nor of Amroth, nor any of the others who had been with them.

When Imrazôr the Númenórean of Gondor found her with his hunting band, she could have mapped every inch of that forest, and could have believed herself the last person on earth, and had no will left for fighting. Everything of herself she had emptied into her quest for Nimrodel; there was nothing left, it seemed, of Mithrellas.

Imrazȏr, enraptured at once, promised her wealth and family and honor as a noble lady of Gondor, but all that Mithrellas heard was: rest. A place she might close her eyes, someone else to look after her, a forced end to the torment of her vain search.

So, wearily, Mithrellas plighted troth with Imrazȏr, and took the cloak he offered her from his own back, and as she turned away from the woods, she drew up the hood, and wept rather than look back.

***

Elves did not wed with Men, and Mithrellas was an oddity in Belfalas, the only one of her kind there, and Men even less familiar with Silvan Elves than with other Elven kindreds. They gaped at the geometric patterns inked beneath her eyes and on her chin, and many openly suspected she had ensorcelled their lord with Elven magics (to what this referred, Mithrellas could not possibly have guessed). Imrazȏr told her the fate of King Amroth of Lorien, and then—perhaps wishing to make a show of sympathy to his Elven wife for her drowned kindred—renamed the high hill on which his castle sat Dol Amroth. It seemed to Mithrellas that she slept now upon two graves.

(She thought better of Amroth, though: she too, would have thrown herself into the sea rather than be carried away from Nimrodel.)

Imrazȏr her husband treated her kindly enough, if he was dismissive of her thoughts, as he was dismissive of the thoughts of all women, and Mithrellas forgot that there had been a time she would not have tolerated being talked down to by men many hundreds of years her junior.

The Men of Belfalas laughed when they learned Mithrellas could not read nor write, and made many japes about the supposed superiority of Elfinesse, though one woman gently offered to write to any of Mithrellas’ family, if they would be able to read the letter. She thought of Enelion far off in Lothlorien, and of the differences she might cite between herself and Elves of the Sindar, Noldor, or other cultures, and declined the offer.

Traitor, she thought. Traitor, traitor, traitor.

A son she bore Imrazȏr, for it was expected: Galador, who was called the first prince of Dol Amroth. Imrazȏr was delighted with the boy, particularly as he had been concerned, Mithrellas knew, over the fertility of a union such as theirs, when she had not beget a child within the first year of their marriage. A hefty part of his attention was thus diverted to the boy, and he asked less after Mithrellas, and that was not entirely displeasing to her.

What would Nimrodel think of her now, as she sat in her hard-seated throne beside Imrazȏr, ruling over a court of Men, birthing Mannish children, keeping behind the cold walls of Dol Amroth as she was bidden?

Imrazȏr had seen her dirty and wild in the woods, and believed she was a broken thing which he could fix. What he misunderstood was that Mithrellas had no desire to be fixed. In her brokenness, life was made bearable: if she felt not the joy of her child’s love, nor the tenderness of friendship with the Men of Belfalas, nor the satisfaction of tasks well done, neither did she feel grief for Nimrodel or her lost people, which it seemed must consume her if she permitted it to exist at all. Perhaps to live in a city of stone, one must become stone, and so Mithrellas resisted the return of any feeling beyond the detached indifference which had carried her through the last several years.

On a time Imrazȏr gifted her a beautiful rowan horse on their anniversary, one which she knew by then must have cost a fortune, and took her riding out in the fields beyond the city walls, though the hill of Dol Amroth was always visible wherever they roamed.

He told her that he loved her, and called her “wife,” and praised her work in decorating the castle, though he chided her for allowing Galador to run too wild and grew cross here and there with her seemingly perpetual dolor. A-times he even managed to lighten her melancholy with his words or his songs, and Mithrellas told herself that this—that Dol Amroth, that Gondor, that Imrazôr—was her future, and so she became pregnant a second time.

***

Galador played in the yards and the streets like other mortal boys. When he played pretend, he named the kings of Númenor and the heroes of the houses of Hador, Bëor, and Haleth. When he spoke of the future, it was of ruling Dol Amroth and already other children deferred to him as the son of Imrazôr. He grew so quickly to Mithrellas’ eye—already he seemed halfway to adolescence, and yet it had been only a handful of years ago that she had produced him.

He was not interested in learning the names of plants or the histories of the Elves, for the Men of Dol Amroth boasted that the Age of Men was come, and the time of the Elves was past, and plant-lore was wise-women’s work, and Galador had little interest at that age in being a healer of any kind.

When Mithrellas took him out, he liked to race along the beach and wrestle in the mud, and sometimes that brought a smile to her face, but Imrazȏr did not think it appropriate for a young boy to spend too much time with his mother, nor was it thought proper for the princess of Dol Amroth to romp with a child; and Mithrellas often had other chores about the castle of which to take care. (These moments necessitated particular attention to her detachment, for they often came close to the tasks she had managed for her people before, in which she had once taken pride.)

There was the same fuss at Mithrellas’ second birth as there had been at the first, and it sobered her then as before to be reminded how fraught an endeavor it was for mortal women. Imrazȏr seemed relieved to find both mother and baby alive at the end of it.

Nevertheless, Mithrellas perceived that he was disappointed to have a baby girl, rather than another boy (She understood that in Gondor, as among some other peoples, only a male child could inherit land and titles by law, and so there was a preference for boy children). He offered to let her chose the name, but she accepted his suggestion of “Gilmith” as she knew she could not give the child an Elvish name. “Gilmith” recalled some ancestors of Imrazȏr whose story Mithrellas had not bothered to listen to, and when she looked at the child asleep in its cradle, she could not attach the name to the baby. “Gilmith” meant nothing to her. Gilmith did not belong to her.

“When you are well,” said Imrazȏr, “we must make plans to journey to Minas Tirith. It is time Galador saw the capitol.”

Mithrellas had heard from their guests and those of Dol Amroth who had been that Minas Tirith dwarfed Dol Amroth in size and towered as a mountain above the plains. She said nothing, and a nursemaid—not the same who had nursed Galador—arrived to take the babe away. Mithrellas had held her only once.

Mortal women needed time to recover from a birth, but two days gone Mithrellas had regained her strength, and with it, a budding restiveness she could not ignore. One night not a week from Gilmith’s birth, Mithrellas dressed herself and led her horse from the royal stables, bidding the stableboys quiet with a gesture. It was not that Imrazȏr forbade her from leaving Dol Amroth—it was only that he disliked her to go alone, and he would not approve of going so soon after childbirth, and he would tell her to put it off until the weather was better—which would not be so until fall was ended and winter come and gone and spring good and settled once more by his estimation, though the climate at seaside Dol Amroth was quite mild in Mithrellas’ opinion.

So Mithrellas told no one, and left under cover of darkness, and rode out to the edge of Dor-en-Ernil, out to the woods at the foot of the White Mountains. There her horse would go no further, so Mithrellas left it to return home or not, as it chose.

Into the wood she went. The years had not left it much changed, and Mithrellas’ old familiarity with it returned at once.

She walked.

Mithrellas was Elf-kind, and not given to the enfeeblement and world-weariness she had observed in Men, nor was she easily prey to exhaustion, but there was a frayed feeling about her which she had long felt, and it came upon her keenly then, and seemed to increase moment by moment. Her heart throbbed so sharply in her breast it was as if she had taken a blow to the sternum, and a fear began to overtake her that death was at her door. Elves did not die of age, but she had heard they might perish of sorrow, though she had never seen it herself. Perhaps that which she had kept so long at bay had come for her at last.

“I should not have left you behind,” Mithrellas said, pressing forward. It was not until she first stumbled that she became truly aware of how tired and clumsy she had become, but still she went on. The pain in her breast increased, and she felt choked as if there were a hand at her throat. After what seemed like hours of walking, she stumbled for the last time, and hit the ground in a small grassy knoll on her hands and knees.

The forest, which had seemed before to wield such malice, wrapped around her like a cloak. Overhead, the call of birds she had never heard in the city, and rustling through the underbrush little creatures that would be chased out of castle halls. The smell of the fallen leaves and animal trails and flower perfumes surrounded her.

“My lady,” she murmured. “I forgot…I forgot my place.” It was with Nimrodel, it was always with Nimrodel. Had she not decided that centuries past? What had possessed her to take the hand of some Man of a far-off land she knew not? What a coward she was!

Mithrellas sank down into the thick grass. It poked at her face and neck, and she pressed her face into the crisp scent of it.

“Nimrodel,” she whispered to the blades. “Nimrodel, Nimrodel…” What life had she been living in Gondor? Her life she had left behind in the east—with Nimrodel, with their people, with their land. She had gone with Imrazȏr because she was weary—but now it seemed no rest she had found in Gondor, only a different sort of weariness, and the grief from which she had tried to flee still lurking underneath.

A tremor wracked her body, and again the pain in her heart, and Mithrellas closed her eyes, and did not expect to open them again.

It would be good to die in the forest.

***

It was the sound that woke her. An almost halting kind of tune, as if sung by one hesitant, and when the nature of it was clear to her, Mithrellas wept profusely.

“Why do you weep?” asked Nimrodel, ceasing her song.

“For you must be dead, as I am,” Mithrellas answered. “Else I would not hear you here.”

Nimrodel’s arms tightened about her, pulling Mithrellas closer against her.

“Nay, not dead,” said Nimrodel. “For I think then I would not see you as I do now, nor feel your flesh against my flesh. Open your eyes, Mithrellas, and see.”

So Mithrellas opened her eyes, and loath as she was to part from Nimrodel’s embrace, she sat upright immediately, to gaze in wonderment upon the face of her lady. Recognition flooded through her at the sight of Nimrodel’s dark, dark eyes, with their lovely doe-eyed shape, and the tattoos at her throat and forehead which Mithrellas could and had sketched from memory, and her noble black brow.

“My lady!” she gasped, and reached out as if to touch Nimrodel’s face, but drew back before making contact. Nimrodel caught her pale hands and pressed them to her cheeks.

“My Mithrellas,” she said.

“My lady,” said Mithrellas again, and wept. Abruptly, as if remembering, she stopped and said: “Amroth is dead.”

Nimrodel looked sad, but not surprised.

“It has been a long while, hasn’t it?” she said softly. “I feel much has changed.”

“I betrayed your teachings,” Mithrellas blurted out in confession. “I lived in a stone city. I espoused a Man and bore him children. My son will be a prince of Gondor.” Her face crumpled, and the tears resumed. “I would that I had destroyed myself,” she said. “Better to have done it that way, than to live without you and the rest. Better to die than to have betrayed myself.”

Nimrodel studied the ground, still holding Mithrellas’ hands. Then she turned her gaze again on Mithrellas and said: “You are here, now. And I am glad.” She drew Mithrellas into a hug and held her there. “I hear your grief,” she murmured, “and for that I sorrow. I did not mean to leave you so long and lost.”

“I left you,” Mithrellas sobbed, her voice breaking. “I failed you. To you I committed myself and then I failed you. I—you were—you were in my arms! And we were free! But it wasn’t true.”  

“It is true now,” said Nimrodel, holding Mithrellas tighter. “And were I dead I would not have you sit at my grave forevermore. Rather I would have you love the flowers and the trees that would grow there. I would not see you destroyed for my sake.”

“I would never leave you again,” said Mithrellas. “I will never.”

“Such promises may prove difficult to hold in Middle-earth,” said Nimrodel, drawing back to look into Mithrellas’ face.

“Still I swear it,” said Mithrellas fiercely through her tears. “My loyalty has been yours since first I heard you speak, my lady. And though I have ignored it these past years, I have not forgotten it.”

“Ah, Mithrellas,” said Nimrodel softly, wiping at the tears on Mithrellas’ cheeks. “Your affection sustains me. I am glad ‘tis you, among all the rest, to find me here.” Mithrellas held back more tears, for she wished to see clearly, to drink in the sight of that much-beloved and long-missed face. When Mithrellas’ cheeks were mostly dry, Nimrodel rose to her feet and offered Mithrellas a hand. “Will you wander with me again, Mithrellas? Even in my slumber I have missed my companion.”

Mithrellas shifted onto her knees and grasped Nimrodel’s hand, bowing her head over it.

“I will go anywhere my lady commands,” she said.

“Your lady offers no commands,” said Nimrodel. “But Nimrodel asks a question of you.” Mithrellas tipped her chin up to gaze up at Nimrodel.

“I will go,” she said. “I will go gladly.”

“Then rise,” said Nimrodel, and Mithrellas did so. Then Nimrodel drew her nearer with a hand at her waist, and pressed her forehead to Mithrellas’. “If you chose to go, you would go with my love,” she said.

Mithrellas trembled, but spoke with breathless surety. “Having it, I could not imagine leaving, my—.” And then suddenly, Nimrodel’s name seemed far too intimate to speak aloud, and Mithrellas blushed.

“And if you stay, will I have your love?” Nimrodel asked. Her breath was warm on Mithrellas’ chin.

“My—. You have always had my love,” Mithrellas answered.

“And yet you would not counsel me against Amroth, not once I had decided.”

“What kind of love would intervene in the happiness of its object?”

Nimrodel observed her and then said: “You are a rare kind I think, Mithrellas. Again I feel I have been unjustly fortunate in your acquaintance. May I kiss you now?”

Mithrellas’ shock was difficult to put to words, but she had barely finished nodding assent when Nimrodel’s lips pressed over hers, and then Mithrellas felt she nearly swooned. When they parted, Nimrodel’s arms were tight around her, and Nimrodel was smiling.

“I have seen now how to effectively disarm the formidable Mithrellas!” she said.

“Not so formidable,” Mithrellas answered feebly, light-headed. “Not where—not where you are concerned.”

“Will you not call me by name, Mithrellas?” Mithrellas flushed again and looked askance. Nimrodel sobered again—they had never been much given to mirth, these two, and the recent years had added none to it—but she took Mithrellas’ hand and made to lead her further on, perhaps back over the mountains, or perhaps off to some new place. “Will you abide with me at least, then?”

Mithrellas gripped Nimrodel’s hand tightly, and locked her gaze with her companion’s.

“I will, Nimrodel,” she said.

***

Of Nimrodel, it is sung that she became separated from Amroth during their journey west, and fell into a long sleep, and came no more into the histories of the Elves but for the song and the river which to this day bear her name.

Of Mithrellas, it is said only that she disappeared after the birth of her second child, and never again returned to the realms of Men, though her strain of Elvish blood lingered long in the princes of Dol Amroth.

Where they wander now, none can tell, but where they go, they go together.

Nimrodel left and Mithrellas right from this picrew

[lildashofheaven1]

‘Dancing Queen’

Jamie Campbell Bower x Dancer Reader

Reader is a dancer and Jamie is there for her when she gets injured

“Y/n we’re ready for your tech run in 5!’ I hear getting yelled outside my dressing room

Before i left the room i sat on my chair and got my pointe shoes on.

I heard a knock on my door

“Ill be out in a second!” I reply

The door opened to see my blonde,blue eyed boyfriend smiling at me

“Oh hi love” i smiled as i tied up my second shoe

“Hi darling, you okay?” I stood next to him

“Yeah just kind of nervous, havent properly performed in months” i say as i stroke my leotard ridding it of any fluff etc.

Jamie noticed me looking in the mirror anxiously, fixing my hair and make up etc.

He gently grabbed my hands and said

“Your going to do amazing my love, you always do, your a beautiful dancer and i cant wait to see you in the actual show tonight, now go out there and show everyone what you do best” he said quietly down my ear and he walked me to the door

“Ill be sat in the audience watching my love, break a leg” he smiled as i walked to backstage.

“Jamie took his seat in the audience, he was here because i was only needed to run through my performance and then he’s driving me back to our house.

Tech days simply weren’t fun, i’ve been here for hours just waiting for my turn to run through my performance making sure the lights and music are correct.

As i was stood in the wings, i looked out to see family members and partners sat waiting for my cast mates to be done here.I saw Jamie sat on the third row from the front waiting for me to get on stage, he looked around and saw me in the wings.He smiled and waved at me, i waved back and he blew me a kiss.I heard the performer before me’s music end so it was my turn to go on stage.

I walked on confidently and waited for my music to start

Come on, skinny love, just last the year

Pour a little salt, we were never here

For the first two lines of the song, i start centre stage on my knees with my head in my hands, i raise one arm at a time and lift myself up onto my pointe shoes and begin travelling the stage with grace, i begin my sequence of 6 pirouette’s

My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my

After the pirhouettes i got to downstage left and do an arabesque and the run into my Jeté leap across the stage and end the leap with 2 pirouettes.

Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer I tell my love to wreck it all

Cut out all the ropes and let me fall

On these three lines i travel across downstage spinning and when i reach centre stage, i perform a Sauté.

My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my

On this line i repeat the 6 pirouettes.

Right in this moment, this order's tall

For this line i run upstage onto the raised segment of the stage and prepare to do the biggest trick in my performance. A double pirouette on the small platform and then leap off of it and land into a split.

While in the air i was supposed to raise my leg above my head and land on my hands and then get into the split.

And I told you to be patient

And I told you to be fine

And I told you to be balanced.

On these lines i started the pirouettes and go to do the leap off of the platform. While im mid air, i try to raise my leg above my head however i underestimated how little amount of time i would have and didn’t raise it high enough in time and landed on my knee fully shattering it on the floor.

3rd person Pov

As y/n landed on her knee on stage, the scream of pain the followed alerted everyone in the theatre that the leap had gone terribly wrong.

Jamie leaped out of his seat at the immediate sign of his lover in pain.

“Y/n!” He yelled out as he jumped over the two rows of seats in front of him and threw himself on the stage with a jump to be with her.

“Y/n my love, where does it hurt?” He said as he moved a few strands of hair from her face.

“My k-knee” she replied in floods of tears.

Both of them knew how bad an injury can be for a dancer, both of them silently praying this wasnt serious.

“Y/n we’ve got medics on the way!” Anthony (the choreographer) said as he walked over and knelt next the girl who was writhing in pain with her head resting on Jamie’s lap.

A few minutes later, we were informed that the medics wouldn’t be able to get into the theatre, so they were going to have to get y/n to the ambulance another way.

“Y/n your gonna have to stand up darling, now if you stand on your other leg ill pick you up okay?” Jamie said to the terrified girl, to which she nodded silently, eyes wide with pain.

Y/n struggled to stand on her other leg while using Jamies arm to steady herself. As soon as they both were up, Jamie lifted her up and carried her bridal style into the ambulance.

“Your gonna be okay my love, you did so well, your gonna be okay” Jamie said as he planted gentle kisses on her knuckles as they drove to the hospital.

[translucent-at-best]

Scatter-brained...

I was given an hour to prepare for a 45-minute presentation at work. And, as short-notice as it was... I killed that shit. It got a lot of positive feedback and I was pretty proud of myself.

I know I've said this multiple time before, but I got my nails done last weekend, and... this is really the set that I need to see wrapped around a dick. I chose emerald green cat eye polish this time and they look so good. I keep trying to take pictures, but they're just not doing them justice.

I need to stretch. I also need to be stretched out.

I don't know what's going on with my hormones lately, but the way I've been craving dick this far out from my ovulation period got me wondering what I'm in for when it comes.

I started taking dating seriously over the summer and was lowkey (naively) hoping I'd have something locked down by the time we got into the colder months. That didn't happen. So that no pressure sex post from a while ago? It's really starting to sound like my type of time right about now.

Could this be latent sexual frustration finally coming to the surface since the dick I thought I was going to get ended up not working out? I don't fucking know. I just feel like between all these life frustrations coming to a head recently, dealing with sexual frustration on top of is extra annoying.

I've had my locs for too long to never have had them pulled before. This is ridiculous.

Stevie Wonder be cussing. I don't know why that never crossed my mind as something he would do. Hearing him do it was equal parts hilarious and shocking, for me at least.

One of my best friends from back home proposed to her girlfriend tonight. I'm so happy for them. I'm selfishly hoping they plan a summer wedding. I'm tired of visiting home when it's cold.

I miss that feeling of standing in front of a man, letting my gaze take in his whole body before looking up to meet his eyes, and silently reveling in the fact that he's strong enough to do whatever he wants to me and I'm about to be fucked six ways to Sunday.

This was my first presidential election as a California resident. Realizing my presidential vote doesn't count for much since CA's going to end up blue regardless was something. It's something I already knew, but it hit a little different when I was filling out my ballot. Growing up in a swing state where that decision always meant a lot, this was a first.

Before the Stevie concert, me and the family were just riding around Chicago, smoking, drinking, and sightseeing. It was, by far, the happiest I've been in a while. I need a night like that here.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Yuu can do it!

Part 34

First<Previous>Next

Masterlist

Listen, if you ever get called in for a school assembly, it’s a trap.

You can’t escape them, obviously, they’re required, this information is only meant to say ‘prepare yourself for the worst’.

You have been warned.

Regardless, Enma stood in the back of the group with his dorm mates, each person more confused than the last as they quietly debated as to why they were there amongst themselves. Classes had been canceled for whatever this was, it must have been important. Right?

Crowley stepped onto the stage.

Ah. Not right, then.

He cleared his throat, tapping the mic until everyone fell silent.

“It has come to my attention that quite a few of you students do not know how to cook.”

“I was wondering if he was going to get me back for making him clean up those cauldrons,” Ito mumbled.

“So, I have taken it upon myself to ask the ghosts to teach you!”

“Can he really say he took it upon himself, then?” Kuroki mused.

“And, as everyone and their mother would bribe the judges if I left it up to you students, I will be the one taste-testing your dishes.”

Grim rubbed his paws together. “I’m going to poison him.”

Ito and Grim high-fived.

“You will not pass until you have made a dish worthy of my distinct palate!”

Enma sunk to his knees, horror washing over him.

One month into school, and he was already going to fail a class.

“We’ll help,” Ito promised, placing a hand on Enma’s shoulder, an attempt at comfort that, despite its inefficacy, he appreciated in these trying times.

“There’s nothing you can do,” he said solemnly.

~

Kuroki was screaming, fumbling with the pin on a fire extinguisher. Deuce lifted his wand to try and help with the kitchen fire, about to call for water, but Kuroki beamed him over the head with the now-weapon because it was a KITCHEN FIRE DO NOT PUT WATER ON IT ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL EVERYONE NO WONDER YOU GUYS ALMOST BURNED DOWN OUR DORM –!

Ito watched on, thoughtful.

Enma sighed. He wasn’t even sure how he had done it. He had been making a grilled cheese sandwich.

“Honestly, man, I think I’m just going to make your dish for you,” they said.

Enma sighed. “That’s cheating.”

The Wolf man that Enma often saw while going on morning runs gave him an approving nod.

“Are you mentally prepared to fail a class?”

“… fine.”

(Wolf man seemed very disappointed in him now. Whoops?)

~

Despite the general chaos that was a couple hundred teen boys trying to learn how to cook, there was a quiet corner of the kitchen. The far corner, to be exact, where almost every vice house warden (and Azul) had chosen to reside. It was relaxing, almost, listening to them all bustle about, to smell the sizzling garlic and lingering spices in the air, to take part in the murmured conversations as they worked around each other.

Kuroki wasn’t nearly as talented as any of these people — he could cook, sure, but not anything special, only really the few recipes he had figured out over the years — but he was allowed to be a part of their group. Mostly because he was pretty quiet and calm around people he didn’t know that well.

Enma was also there. He wasn’t allowed to touch the food anymore, though, so world peace was achieved.

Outside of the many fires, and the screaming, and the cursing that everyone else was doing. And that one guy who was apparently putting on a magic show in the middle of the room, pots and ingredients and sharp objects flying as he prepared what had to have been an entire feast…

But who cares about them?

… they did, unfortunately.

Ah, woe is them, their titles and general calm aura had come back to bite them, as people began wandering over.

Kalim walked over to Jamil, bearing his dish with pride. “Look! I did it!”

Jamil nodded absently, taking a tasting spoon and using it for a quick bite. Which he nearly spat out, only just barely managing to swallow it down. “What… why is it so spicy, Kalim? How much cayenne did you put in this?”

“All of it, obviously. The more you make, the more people can enjoy it!”

Jamil sighed. Deeply. And then he shook his head, taking the pot from him. “You didn’t balance the ingredients correctly. Go relax, I’ll fix it.”

“Oh, but you already have your own food to make! I can —!”

“I’ll manage. Go.”

Kalim hesitated. And then he broke out into a wide smile. “You’re the best, Jamil!”

Jamil didn’t respond, already too busy pulling down ingredients to fix it with.

Kalim didn’t expect a response, either, clearly, because he was already heading off to talk to Cater, who was in the middle of the room, his tongue poking out of his mouth as he piped ketchup onto a potato galette. They couldn’t see the design from where they were but, from what Enma knew about the guy, he was sure it looked fine. It might not taste the best, but he was sure it would be Magicam-worthy.

Ah, Cater was getting his phone out. Enma was right.

Sure, it wasn’t a particularly difficult thing to predict, but he can still be proud of himself regardless, right?

Apparently, not, because the universe allowed him to tune back into the conversation right in time to take him down a peg:

“Man, didn’t Crowley say that we weren’t supposed to help each other? Not a single person is following the rules,” said Grim, his gaze finding its way to Ruggie, who was yet another vice house warden who had been stuck making two dishes. Maybe Crowley should start looking into corruption among those in charge of the dorms.

Actually. No. Because Enma was currently benefitting from it.

Shamelessly benefitting from it? It was hard to say, he was very much offended by Grim’s snarky comment and therefore responded in kind, “Says the guy who’s literally exempt on account of not having opposable thumbs.”

Grim huffed. “Which is within the rules!”

“Rules are important,” Riddle said. Every single Ramshackle student froze, for they were not following them. Riddle may not have jurisdiction over them, and his unique magic couldn’t affect them, and he had been getting better… but, hey, if Ito and Enma suddenly huddled closer to hide their cheating, then who’s going to say anything?

Not Riddle, who only raised an eyebrow suspiciously before seeming to remember the task at hand, and that’s all that matters.

Riddle looked at Trey. “The cabbage leaves aren’t all the same thickness. How can I ensure that all of my rolls are uniform? Should I measure their weight in grams?”

Trey smiled fondly. “Some variation is allowed.”

“But…”

“There are very few things in real life that need to be perfect, perfection is pretty much impossible, being ‘close enough’ is – uh – well – close enough.”

Riddle hesitated, before nodding, mouthing the words to himself a couple of times, as if trying to memorize them. And then he flushed, realizing that this, too, was just a habit that was borne out of his need to be perfect, and therefore he was already ‘messing up’.

Trey smiled and knocked his shoulder against Riddle’s. “Hey, at least you’re listening, right? And I’ll help.”

Trey clearly did not mean just in regards to the cabbage rolls Riddle was making, but he was glad to accept his help with that, too.

“Wow, are vice house wardens just mom-coded or something?” Kuroki mumbled.

Ito hit him in the shoulder with their wooden spoon. This did nothing to disprove his point, but it did make Kuroki shut up, so they seemed to take this a win.

And Kuroki got his karmic punishment.

Grim shrieked and jumped ship, into Enma’s arms, which was all of the warning anyone got before they were joined by someone new. Someone terrible.

Floyd Leech.

Kuroki hissed as the boy threw all of his weight into him, immediately slapping his hands onto the table to get some leverage in the kind of practiced motion that suggested this had happened many times before. “Leech-senpai,” he greeted through gritted teeth.

“Yes?” said Jade, smiling pleasantly.

Kuroki probably would have glared if he valued his life any less. Even as it was, Enma could see him scowling at the table in front of him, debating it heavily. “Other Leech-senpai.”

“Oh, me?” said Floyd, throwing even more weight onto Kuroki.

Kuroki was making a valiant effort at schooling his face into something more or less neutral. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t great at ‘valiance’, so… his efforts probably would have been better spent contributing to his fight against gravity. “Yes. Could you please get off of me? I need to stir this.”

Floyd considered this. And then he shrugged. “Can I try it? I’ve never had anything you’ve made, Koebi-chan, you’re always out on the floor. I gotta know!”

His lips pressed into a thin, annoyed line at the nickname, but he weighed the dialogue options in his head and eventually decided the one that kept him alive was probably the better one: “Sure.”

Kuroki was released, and after stirring his ramen to make sure that everything was mixed well, and absently throwing a noodle at the ceiling to see if it stuck and was therefore fully cooked, he offered a clean spoon to Floyd.

The boy hummed thoughtfully. “Could use a bit more of a kick to it.”

Kuroki mumbled something about how everyone else was wrong. But he still took the spice bottle that was offered to him.

“He’s sensitive,” Enma told Floyd in a conspiratorial whisper that would have done well up on a stage but, in all other scenarios, did not serve the usual purpose of a whisper because it was very loud. Kuroki shot him a nasty look over his shoulder. “In every way. Don’t take it personally, senpai.”

Another clean spoon was used (as is proper when taste-testing dishes in a restaurant) and Floyd nodded his approval.

Kuroki sighed, relieved. “Thanks, man, my taste buds are off.” He took the pot off his burner and smiled at Floyd.

“Oh noooo Covid,” Ito deadpanned. Much to the confusion of everyone, except for Kuroki, who snickered and punched them in the shoulder.

And then he went silent.

He looked at Enma, horror dawning on his expression. “Wait, fuck, you aren’t vaccinated for Covid, are you?”

Enma stared at him blankly for a solid five seconds, and then he remembered the awkward conversation they’d had earlier that month, trying to discern the differences between their realities. It was kind of difficult, considering it was hard to say ‘this is a given in my reality’ because it’s, well, a given. It’s hard to conceptualize differences without reference. But they had figured out one thing: they were from different years. Ito was from 2032, and Kuroki was from 2028. Enma had disappeared in 2020. When pressed about why he hadn’t been wearing a mask (and him only questioning them back as to why he would bother wearing a costume mask for 2020, and whether the Purge had happened or something), he specified that he was from March of 2020, which was vitally important. Apparently, he had narrowly dodged a worldwide pandemic that had kept everyone locked in their houses for years on end. Yay him.

He still wasn’t sure why this was relevant to their newfound lack of proper tastebuds.

Ito, apparently, got what Kuroki was implying, because they gasped and pointed a finger at him. “You bastard! You got me sick!”

“Uh. Sorry?”

“You should be,” Kuroki sniffed. “I managed to get through without a single infection. I’ll never taste anything again now. Evil.”

“What are they talking about?” Floyd asked around a mouthful of ramen, only getting shrugs in return.

“They do this sometimes,” Trey sighed. “They’re like Lilia-kun, I think that they think it’s funny to make up things. Ignore them. It’s what we all do.”

Jade narrowed his eyes.

But, before Jade could press them, Kuroki realized that Floyd was eating the food he’d made and he immediately dragged the pot away from him.

And then he handed Floyd a napkin before the boy could get too mad, trying to distract him: “You have some broth on the tip of your nose.”

It worked, surprisingly. Floyd gave Kuroki a weird look as he took it, dabbing at his nose delicately to get it off.

“You really are a shrimp,” Floyd said, a grin stretching across his lips.

Someone had to be grinning, Enma supposed. Because Kuroki certainly wasn’t.

He cursed under his breath and turned to start portioning the ramen out so they could all have something to eat (it wasn’t like anyone was going to check, and Ruggie was doing it, too, so they wouldn’t be alone in detention even if someone did rat them out). Unfortunately, his hair wasn’t quite long enough to hide the embarrassed flush creeping up his neck.

“Now you even look like one!” he said, poking red cheeks.

“Floyd,” sighed Azul. “Shouldn’t you be making something of your own instead of tormenting our worker?”

“Nah.”

Azul sputtered. “What do you mean ‘nah’?!”

“Nah.”

Azul looked exasperated. He gave Jade a pleading look. Jade was not swayed in the slightest.

“Fine, Azul, I’ll leave Koebi-chan alone. I’d much rather mess with Kingyo-chan instead, anyway!”

Kuroki looked almost offended.

Riddle wasn’t particularly happy about this, either: “And, on that note, I think I’m done with my dish!” he said, before making a break for it.

Unfortunately for him, Floyd ran after him.

Only Trey made moves to help him. Wow, everyone in this school sucks.

Enma raised an eyebrow. “Not going to help Rosehearts-senpai out of solidarity?”

“He didn’t help me!” Kuroki huffed.

“Be the change you want to see in the world.”

“Bitch —!”

“Man, there goes our peace,” said Ruggie, eyeing the pair of them warily.

Ito snickered. “Imagine living with them.”

“My condolences,” said Jade.

Ito nodded solemnly.

Enma and Kuroki paused in their bickering to whirl on Ito. “Hey!”

~

The first round of food tastings was upon them!

Now, if everyone did well, this would be the only round, but that is far too much to ask.

Everyone they cared about got through, surprisingly enough. Ace managed to scrape by with a mac n’ cheese. Deuce’s filet was cut a little strangely but tasted fine. Cater’s dish went off without a hitch – apparently, all that Magicam use was good for something, as he had actually absorbed quite a bit from cooking videos that had come up on his explore page. Trey got through (obviously) and, because of his help, Riddle got through as well.

In a similar vein, the cheaters all got through. Hell yeah, cheaters always win. Jamil and Kalim got through with flying colors, though Crowley noted that Jamil’s plating was a little dull, something that clearly pissed him off, but Jamil grinned and bore it. Ruggie and Leona managed decent grades, too, much to Wolf man’s chagrin, but Wolf man got through as well so the competition wasn’t rigged enough for him to voice his complaints.

Azul got through with his seafood dish, which is what you would hope for, considering he owned a restaurant. He was the only Octavinelle student they knew who did so, though. Floyd presented an empty plate, and almost got through by claiming it was an avante-garde piece but, unfortunately for him, his motivation to lie disappeared a few minutes into his spiel and he fessed up. Jade’s dish paralyzed Crowley’s tongue, so he got sent back despite his dish tasting stellar (or, at least, that’s what they thought Crowley had said, it had sounded more like thetha, because, you know, paralytics).

Enma pretended he didn’t hear Ito mumbling about how smart Jade was under their breath.

He also pretended not to notice when Ito watched on, forlorn, as Lilia walked up to the stage, his abomination spewing green fumes. Enma hadn’t even realized that could happen in real life. Maybe it couldn’t and Lilia had simply made something so bad that the Great Seven decided to use their magic from beyond the grave to warn them all not to eat it. Kind of them.

That was… about all of the people they knew. So, they tuned out everyone to have a little side conversation while they waited for their turns:

“God, he’s so much worse than me,” Ito complained.

Kuroki patted them on the shoulder. “You’ll figure out how to make cosmic horrors one day.”

They looked down at their meal. The day was not today, unfortunately, or least it wasn’t yet late enough in the day. They had made two perfectly acceptable dishes out of habit and had been faced with a critical decision: being nice to Crowley, or working harder. A very difficult choice indeed.

One that they didn’t even actually make. They had turned to Enma and said, “Make it bad.”

Enma… wasn’t sure how to feel about this. He was kind of flattered that they were confident in his terrible cooking skills but, for the same reason, he was deeply offended.

But whatever. He touched the food and it burst into flames instantly. It is what it is.

Just kidding. He set it in a pan and then started tossing it in pure kosher salt. What can he say? Kalim inspired him.

And then it had ended up burned. He wasn’t really sure how, but would he ever admit that out loud? No. He was just very good at his job.

So good at his job that Crowley, despite his attempts to cut his way through the meat in search of an edible part, was unable to find anything he could actually chew, let alone swallow.

Needless to say, Ito failed.

Enma and Kuroki passed! Yay them!

Except… as they watched Ito head back into the kitchen, they realized that their emotional support extrovert was missing. Besides, Ito would definitely need help messing up their next meal, so…

~

The kitchen was somehow both more and less relaxed during the second round. There were far fewer people, most of them had gone home to enjoy their day off the moment they’d gotten a passing score, but all of the people who were left were terrible at cooking and there wasn’t anything to dilute the potency of burn smells and blood from the sheer amount of people who had cut their fingers on accident.

Floyd was trying to stab one of the ghosts repeatedly. The ghost was a ghost, so this wasn’t much more than a nuisance for him, but it was still fucked up.

And then there was Ito and Jade, casually working in the corner once again. They weren’t really talking, unless you count Ito asking Jade to grab a bowl above his head for them and Jade checking to make sure a knife he wanted to use was clean, but it seemed to be far more relaxed an ordeal than their last conversation in the doorway of the Mostro Lounge.

Enma almost felt bad breaking the calm air.

Almost.

He shared mischievous grins with his friends. The ghost that had let them in gave them an exasperated look. Poor guy was overworked. They would make sure not to inconvenience him too much. As is right – never inconvenience service workers.

Ito, though? Ito was off the clock (well, probably not, he doubted they had clocked out yesterday… but off the job, at least), and therefore fair game.

“Boo,” said Grim the moment they got close, ever the creative one.

Ito dropped the dough they had been testing the elasticity of onto the floor. They looked at it for a moment, depressed, and then seemed to remember their goal was to give Crowley a terrible experience, so they just picked it up and started working it again.

“Ugh,” they complained nonetheless. “How did you even get in here?”

“We have an in, of course,” Kuroki said, smirking.

Ito raised an eyebrow. “How?”

Enma gave them a weird look. “The… the kitchen ghosts are our ghosts?”

“Our…?” Ito repeated slowly, and then they blinked. “Our –?! They’re the ones from our house?!”

“Obviously?” said Enma. “I mean, they look the same and all.”

Ito shrugged. “Honestly, I just didn’t think that those guys would need jobs. If Crowley really forgot they were in Ramshackle at the beginning of the year, I think it’s safe to say that they weren’t paying rent. And, I mean, why do ghosts even work? Not like they need food or anything.”

“Retirees get jobs all the time. Old people get bored just sitting around all day,” Deuce pointed out.

Ito huffed, which was basically their version of conceding on the point.

“What, do you think beheadings are super common here or something?” Kuroki teased.

“They are,” Ace said dully, his metal collar shining beneath the bright lights of the kitchen. Apparently, he had skipped out on flamingo duty. Enma thought it was deserved, but apparently Ace strongly disagreed.

“… actual beheadings.”

Emma grinned. “I mean, apparently they were a huge thing when the Queen of Hearts was around.”

“He’s got a point there,” Deuce mused.

“Whose fucking side are you –?! We’re not in the Queendom!” Kuroki pointed out.

“Better point.”

Ito crossed their arms over their chest, pouting. “I hate you all.”

“No, you don’t,” said Enma confidently.

Ito grumbled under their breath. They glanced at Jade. “Sorry about them.”

“The fuck?” Ace muttered.

Jade laughed, though. Maybe partially at their expressions. “Don’t worry about it, I’m almost done, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Oh, right! The task at hand!

Enma pointed at the dough. It was sitting there, looking oh-so-innocent despite its recent encounter with the floor. “Oh, were you waiting for me to mess it up?”

“Nono, I’ve got a plan.” They skewered the dough on a metal rod and then presented it before their darling monster. “Go ham, bud.”

Grim lit up. Literally. Because of a sudden overabundance of flames in their nearby vicinity.

Everyone backed up, but Ito didn’t even blink. They watched on with a bored expression as they slowly twirled the food around on their stick, making sure that it got evenly burned.

“Ito…” said Kuroki.

They blew it out once they were satisfied that it was inedible, smiling.

“Done!”

Enma wiped imaginary sweat from his brow. Well, actually, it wasn’t imaginary, fire is hot, but the emphasis on it was entirely for the joke: “I think that’s the longest time I’ve ever seen you without a smile. It was terrifying. Never do that again.”

~

Crowley looked down at the bread that he had been presented with. It was a simple shortbread, but the food was pitch black. Burned to the point where it had become unrecognizable.

“I’m beginning to sense a pattern,” he sighed, before cutting into it, probably in hopes that the center would be a little bit less scorched. And it was! But at what cost? Somehow, the inside of the loaf hadn’t been cooked at all. He reached a clawed hand into the bread and tore out a wad of pure dough.

He gave Ito an exasperated look.

They batted their eyelashes innocently. “Well, you have to try it to see whether I pass, right?”

Crowley looked like he’d rather die (even though his current best shot at death was eating the ‘meal’ laid in front of him, food poisoning is no joke), but he did eventually shove the wad in his mouth.

The glowing lights in his eyes seemed to gleam brighter.

“It’s… delicious!”

“Fuck, I’m too good at cooking,” Ito lamented, burying their face in their hands.

Kuroki patted them on the back comfortingly.

“Well, despite your apparent lack of technical skills, I fear that if I don’t pass you, I may simply pass away, so enjoy your passing grade, Ito-kun!”

Ito grumbled in Spanish. It was definitely not a PG-13 sentence, but Crowley smiled as if it had been and even had the audacity to say, “You’re welcome!”

~

“Probably for the best,” they said, despite still seeming put out. “I was going to ramp my way up to rat poison.”

“It would have worked,” Kuroki said, nodding sagely. “I don’t care if he’s a Crow, he’s a rat.”

“Guys,” Enma whined. “Please don’t kill the Headmaster.”

Grim blew a halfhearted jet of flame his way. “But it would be funny!”

[littlemissfasd]

I wrote this a while ago, Unedited. Long one.

Warnings - mentions of alcohol usage, grief, vomiting, smut.

It had been almost six months since ellie broke up with Hayley, Ellie insisted there was no reason but you knew it was because she lost joel. Since then ellie had barely spoken two words to her, until christmas night.

Every year like clockwork, people would gather to eat, give and receive presents and get drunk. Tonight was that night, myself and a few others spent days helping Maria and Tommy prepare for it, and finally we were done. The chatter and laughter started to take over as more people started to show up. Tommy pats me on the shoulder and leans closer "hey..uh i know you and ellie aren't on the best of terms but she's really struggling."

I let his words sink in and sigh "i'll check on her." He gives me a sympathetic smile "how are you doing?" I ask, knowing its the first Christmas since Joel passed. God i miss that miserable old man.

"I'm getting there." I hand him a drink and nod "He'd be proud of you Tommy." His eyes light up a little as those words leave my mouth, he says nothing instead he pulls me in for a tight hug.

"Don't you ever forget that." I whisper before pulling away, i can tell he needed to hear it as his tears well up slightly. "I'll see you tomorrow okay?" I say, he nods waving at me as i start to walk off.

I walk around the crowd, knowing I don't do well in the midst of them. I walk down the street past Joels house, Maria insisted on putting all of joels favourite decorations up one last time. It looks beautiful. I kneel down placing a single flower on the grass "Merry Christmas Joel." I whisper as i stand up.

"Oh your here" I don't have to turn to know who it is. I can tell just by the attitude, i let out a dry chuckle "Hey Ellie." She says nothing and stays behind me, i turn and she stares blankly at the house.

"So stupid." I look down, staying silent and watching as the woman takes a few steps towards the house.

"He's dead, he cant see this shit." She says picking at the lights looped around the fence.

"Ellie~" she cuts me off with a laugh "don't give me the 'He'd like it' speech. Please." My eyes narrow seeing her hands, bloody and shaking "You're drunk." I comment and she turns to glare at me.

"Its Christmas." I shake my head "You can't handle drink." I say, not trying to sound mad but failing. "God! You're so annoying. You always fucking were. Checking up on shit that never concerned you. Insecure fuck man." My eyes widen at the insults that leave her mouth with ease.

"Wow." I say looking away "you know ellie..i was the one who found you. It was me who got joel back here. No one else fucking wanted to! I found you. I brought you back. I stayed with you. All for you to turn around and what? Throw me out? What, did it get to real Ellie?"

Her eyes widen as she listens to me rant.

"You hurting is not a reason to hurt me. I'm sorry about Joel. I am, if i could change it i would because i cant bare to see you like this." She stumbles slightly, i reach for her grabbing her sleeve to keep her steady.

"Can you take me home?" I sigh and nod "Yeah.." i keep ahold of her sleeve as we walk towards her house, once getting there she fumbles with the keys before dropping them "for fuck sake!" She screams slamming her fists against the brick wall.

"Jesus ellie!" I yell grabbing her hand, my own gets covered in her blood as it pools from her knuckles. I sigh and pick up her keys, unlocking it i turn to her "Go." She mumbles something i didnt catch as she walked inside.

"Sit down ill look at your hand" i say, she doesn't argue for once, she does as she's told. "How much did you drink?" I ask, grabbing the first aid kit she just points at the few scattered beers and a bottle of whiskey which doesn't have much missing from it.

"You know you're not supposed to drink on your medication." I say, i walk to the counter where shes sat and stand in front of her holding my hand out "stop trying to control me." She mumbles and places her hand in mine.

"Please find a dictionary and find the word control because what i just said does not fit under that." She winces as i wipes the blood from her knuckles, i can feel her staring at me but i ignore it and clean her up. "You haven't broken anything but it will be sore for a few days" she just nods, i take a step back closing the first aid kit.

"I don't know how to stop feeling like this." She says, digging her nails into the palm of her hand in an attempt to calm herself down. I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything.

"You came back." She whispers after a moment of silence.

"I promised i would." I mumble, she nods slowly staring into her lap.

"You should sleep. The alcohol mixing with your antibiotics..doesn't feel good. So lets get you to bed before then." I say, fidgeting slightly she nods and hops off the counter "Are you staying the night?" She asks as she walks around the kitchen and into the living room "uh..i can do." I offer, she nods "please." Theres a sense of sadness in her voice, one I couldn't ignore so i agreed to stay.

"Here." She says handing me one of her shirts and a pair of shorts, i thank her and head into the bathroom to change.

-

I wake up to the sounds of Ellie vomiting, i rub my eyes as i make my way to the bathroom. She sits against the toilet shivering "You alright?" I ask, she jumps at my voice and turns to me "I should have listened to you." I chuckle and sit beside her.

"Yes you should." I say matter of factly earning a small smile from her. She groans and rubs her forehead before throwing herself forward, i hold her hair back as she vomits. She lets out a frustrated yell after she finishes "i'm sorry im so dumb" she whispers, leaning her forehead against my shoulder.

"Everyone throws up, el. It's not an issue." She gives me a look and sighs "can you help me change my bedding?" I nod immediately guessing she didn't make it to the toilet fast enough.

"Just..get in the shower and clean yourself up, ill sort the bed out." I say, she doesn't argue and just turns the shower on and i leave giving her some privacy.

Her bedroom hasn't changed, the same posters sit on her wall, the photos of her and joel are gone now though. She used to have them on her nightstand but i guess it was too much.

I walk over to the bed and see a small puddle of vomit on the duvet, i strip it off making sure to put the sheets straight into the sink to get it off. I walk back and check the sheet, its clean but i change it anyway.

Ellie comes in around fifteen minutes later, looking a little better than before. "Thank you." She says motioning towards the bed. "Not a problem. Get some sleep okay?" As i walk past her she grabs onto the sleeve of my shirt "Don't go." My eyes connect with hers to see tears welling up "I'll be right out there, el" she shakes her head as a tear falls "Please. Don't leave." My heart shatters seeing her cry, i nod "okay.." i agree, still holding my sleeve she takes us both to the bed where we lay down.

She had sobered up, vomiting definitely helped that situation but you could tell she still felt rough. Her head leans against my shoulder as she fiddles with my sleeve. "I'm sorry. Not just about tonight..but everything. Yelling at you, breaking up with you. Im sorry."

I listen and nod, "i know." She looks up at me, her eyes look sad and dull "i lost..everyone." I shake my head "i'm right here." I whisper my hand slipping into hers, she tenses a little but softens again and holds my hand tightly.

"I tried everything to distract myself. Nothing worked." She says, her voice dead.

"This feeling wont last forever love. One day you will be okay." I don't even realise the use of the nickname until her eyes widen slightly reacting to it. "Uh.." i laugh awkwardly, shaking her head a small smile tugs at her lips "Don't worry about it.." she says.

I sit up, clearing my throat, she does the same "I mean it..It's okay." My eyes flicker down to her lips.

"Ellie.." i whisper, she hooks her finger under my chin pulling me closer, her lips graze mine causing a gasp to leave my mouth.

"Can i.." she whispers, i nod "Please.." i sound desperate, but in this moment I don't care, i just want her.

She kisses me, softly at first but she grips my hips pulling me into her lap deepening the kiss, i hear a small moan leave her mouth as our tongues clash against each other. I wrap my arms around the back of her neck, pulling away from the kiss.

"Are you..sure?" I ask, knowing her emotions are everywhere and I don't want to take advantage.

"Yes, please.." her eyes soften.

"O-okay.." i nod, she wastes no time and lays me down, hovering over me. "I've wanted this..for so long." She confesses pinning my hands just above my head.

"You could have said el." I mumble, humour in my voice.

"You never gave me an inkling that you..wanted to. Even when we were together" she says with a smirk, i nod knowing she's right.

"Well..now i am so stop talking and do something before i change my mind" her eyes widen at my words but she does as she's told and leans down, kissing my jaw and down to my neck, sucking gently earning a small gasp from my mouth. She likes the sounds that leave my mouth, they force her to lift my hips up forcing the oversized shirt up to sit on my stomach.

I can see the blush rise on her cheeks as she stares at my bare skin "I.." she start but stops herself by scooting down and kissing my bare stomach, with each kiss she goes higher, bringing the shirt with her as she goes. "Off." She whispers when she's sick of having to move it, i lean forward and she pulls it off me, chucking it off to the side leaving me in nothing but my shorts,

"So pretty." She whispers kissing around my chest, I don't have the tome to respond instead a loud whimper leaves my mouth as she bites down gently on my hardened nipple "Ellie.." i whine, she looks up at me almost as if she's trying to read me.

"What, love? Tell me" i shudder as her hands graze my stomach, going down to the drawstrings of my shorts, i feel them loosen and know she has undone them. "Use your words baby." She whispers, my mind is clouded feeling that warm sensation in my stomach worsen with every touch of hers.

"I just..i need you please." I beg, her hand slides easily into my shorts her fingers dip into my drenched pussy "what do you need me to do honey?" I gasp at her fingers, i can feel myself getting wetter by the second "i- i need you inside me. Stop teasing" i stutter like a fool but the smirk on Ellie's face reads she doesn't mind and likes this side of me, the side where i cant even form my words because im so weak by her touch.

"Say please" i let out a whimper at her words, a strand of her hair falls against her face as she stares up at me "please el.." She nods and sinks a single finger into me, i can feel her knuckle against my skin "oh~" my head tilts back against the pillow feeling her finger curl against my insides.

"Please move.." i plead, she says nothing and moves her fingers slowly, i groan and pull her face down to mine kissing her hungrily. Her free hand wraps gently around my throat, she knew i enjoyed choking, it came out in a drunken conversation when we were dating, im more shocked she remembered.

She pulls away from my lips and pushes a second finger in, a loud gasp leaves my mouth "good girl, taking me so well." She nibbles my ear gently moving her fingers at a fast pace, i cant even form words as the pleasure rips through my body forcing my back to arch and my head to fall back "i- im close" ellie looks at me as if she's going to use that as a challenge "Don't coms yet baby." She warns, her fingers pressing a little more pressure to my neck.

I whine at her words "please..i cant.." i pant, she shakes her head tutting at me "Do as your told, you hear me?" I her fingers slow down a little waiting for my response, i nod "words." Is all she says, the way she says it almost makes me finish right there and then. Dominate ellie doesn't come out often but i loved it.

"Yes- yeah" i stutter, she mumbles a 'good girl' before her fingers pick up there pace once more "oh god!" I yell out, covering my mouth because I wasn't expecting my moan to be that loud, she removes my hand "Its okay, i like your noises." My eyes roll into the back of my head as her fingers curl against that one spot, my hips buck against her, she can tell i wont be able to hold it for much longer.

"You need to come baby?" She asks, a smirk sits on her face "yes, please.." i pant, unintentionally trying to wriggle away from her hand. She grips my hip forcing me to stay "nuh uh pretty girl." I let out a groan, i cant hold it for much longer and she's loving every second of my struggle, she leans in close to my ear "come on my fingers baby." With that she thrusts her fingers once more, deeply and harshly forcing my orgasm to rip its way for me.

"Oh fuck!" I moan, my eyes stay shut as she keeps her fingers inside of me, watching as i come against her hand "f-fuck." I pant, my breathing is ragged and uneven as my orgasm ends "good girl." She whispers, she removes her fingers bringing them to my mouth.

"Taste yourself baby." I open my mouth, taking both of her fingers inside. My tongue laps my own release from her as she bites down on her lip at the sight. She removes her fingers, kissing my head.

"Your turn." I mumble.

Her eyebrows raise a little, clearly not expecting that.

-

[hoperenae]

Turning Heads (a Haikyuu fanfic by hoperenae)

PREVIOUS — SERIES MASTERLIST — NEXT

PART 24- The Other Side

The cool October morning breeze brushed my hair away from my face as I stepped out my front door and into the street, my brother right behind me. We walked to school in silence, both nervous and reflecting on how far we’d come in the last couple of months.

It had been two months since the Miyagi Preliminaries. Two months since we beat Ohgi Minami and Kakugawa, the two meter guy. We had honed our skills and grown closer as a team, but nothing could be done about the inevitable nerves we all likely felt going into the Miyagi Qualifiers for Nationals.

The bus ride to Sendai City Gymnasium was quiet, too, even though everyone was wide awake. I sat next to Yacchi who, despite being a manager, looked more pale and anxious than any of the players.

Our first match of the day was against Johzenji High, the party school. Their carefree and fun nature made them unpredictable, but we managed to pool our new strengths together and win.

Wakutani was next, and we didn’t know what to expect. We quickly learned that their captain was very much the pillar of strength for their team, keeping everyone’s spirits up, but we had our own strong captain.

About halfway through the first set, we were neck-and-neck with them. During one rally, our spike got blocked, but Daichi scrambled to pick it up. Nishinoya managed to keep it in the air, and I turned away to prepare for the next attack. And then…the room fell silent.

I turned back to find Daichi and Tanaka on the ground. Tanaka was leaning over Daichi who wasn’t moving. My breath caught in my throat as I raced to my big brother’s side. I fell to my knees and choked back a sob.

“Daichi!” I screamed. Nothing. “Daichi!” Finally, he groaned softly and slowly lifted his head. I felt someone’s hand on my back but shrugged it off.

“Arya, give him some space.” It was Asahi’s voice that shook me from my shock. I raised myself onto one knee as I helped my brother stand up.

“Sawamura-kun!” Takeda said as he made his way to us. “Do you know where you are right now?”

“Uhh, Sendai City Gymnasium,” Daichi replied, putting a hand to his cheek and wincing. There was a trickle of blood coming from his mouth. “I’m ok, really. I can still play.” With that, he spat a tooth out of his mouth.

“You need to go to the infirmary,” Takeda insisted. “Have them check you out to make sure you don’t have a concussion.” Daichi nodded sadly and Shimizu began to walk with him.

“Little sis,” Daichi called over his shoulder. “Hold down the fort while I’m gone.” He smiled sadly, and I fought back tears as I nodded.

I finally understood what it felt like. When I got knocked unconscious back in middle school, I had no awareness of what everyone else was doing or feeling at the time. When I came to, I felt guilty for causing everyone so much pain. But now I knew what it felt like to be on the other side. The worry, the unknown, the waiting; it was unbearable. I was drowning in it. How was I supposed to play without my brother? How was Karasuno supposed to play without our captain?

“Arya-san.” Nishinoya put a hand on my shoulder. “He’s gonna be ok. He doesn’t seem dizzy or disoriented, so he’ll be back before we know it. All we can do now is win for him.”

I nodded shyly and wiped the tears that had escaped my eyes. Tanaka marched over to me and bowed before me.

“Arya,” he choked out. “I’m so sorry. I should have seen that Daichi was going for the ball.”

I put my hands on his face and pulled his gaze up to me. “Hey, it’s ok. It’s all gonna be ok.” I gave him a half-smile. Tanaka freaking out weirdly made me feel calmer. “Let’s win this, ok?” He nodded firmly.

I’ll be the first to admit, it was hard without Daichi. Ennoshita was subbed in, and after the initial nerves wore off, we started to gain our rhythm back. We took the first set, but they took the second from us. I was feeling anxious and distracted, constantly eyeing the gym doors for Daichi’s return. Half my spikes were blocked out, and I wasn’t using my head to strategize. I knew I was going to cost us the game if I kept that up, but I didn’t know how to get my head on straight.

The score was 24-23, match point for us. Kageyama tossed to me, but it was a little too high, so I panicked and flailed. The ball still went over, but now it was Wakutani’s turn for a counterattack.

“Arya!” Ennoshita called from behind me. “Don’t forget how far you’ve come!”

It was like being woken from a daydream. The fog in my brain disappeared, and I took a deep breath. Ennoshita was right, I’d come too far and worked too hard to let it end here. I steeled myself for the next attack. Hinata went up to block their attack, but it still made it through. Ennoshita dove forward to receive it and sent it back to Kageyama.

“Kageyama!” I screamed as loud as I could. He turned his head to me, saw the look of pure determination on my face, and grinned. I ran, jumped against two blockers, and spiked a perfect cross-shot, just like Bokuto taught me.

The gymnasium erupted in cheers, and my teammates swarmed around me with praise. For a brief moment, I forgot to worry about my brother. All I felt was pure bliss and pride.

After gathering up our things, we began to leave the gym. Leaning in the doorway with a sheepish grin on his face was my older brother.

“I guess you guys didn’t need me after all,” he said, running a hand through his hair. I raced forward and threw my arms around his neck.

“I’m so glad you’re ok,” I cried into his shoulder. I felt him tense up and dialed it back a bit. When I pulled away, it was not pain etched on his face, but pride.

“I saw that last point,” he said with a grin. “I don’t think anyone will underestimate you anymore, kid.”

TAGLIST: @bokuroibi @lemurzsquad

[amynchan]

When you finally let yourself relax into a new label and look back and see "oh wow all of that makes a bit more sense lol." Except, instead of a "new" label, it's one you've been tentatively using for years because it seemed right, but now it feels a bit more right. For example,

When I was younger, I asked my grandpa if I could ride on a nearby roller coaster. He told me it "would cost a pretty penny." I proceeded to look all over the parking lot for a penny, found one that was pretty banged up, and told him I'd clean it and make it really pretty. I was dead serious.

Whenever I stayed the night over at my grandparents' house, we always used the same blankets. I was told that it was polite to fold them up after we were done using them, so I'd go around the entire house and fold up every single "this is a blanket that a grandchild uses" blanket. I still do that, tbh.

As a child, I was told to make sure I rinsed all of the food off my dishes. It wasn't until last month that someone informed me that I was practically washing the dishes clean. I've always been confused as to why people don't wash dishes by hand, and now I realize that I took the instruction a bit too literally.

When I discovered meal prep, I was absolutely ecstatic. All of my food prepared at the beginning of the week, and I knew what was in store, and it was great. Still have trouble conceptualizing that people get bored with the same food every day tho.

Giving kindness is normal. Getting it is weird. What's the procedure? What do I do? Please tell me the script.

Whenever my younger siblings were in distress, that was the only time I could be affectionate to them. I had a script to follow. Figure out the root of the problem. If I can fix it, fix it. If I can't, find the person who can and get them to fix it. Everything else was straight up, terrifying, uncharted territory where everything I did was wrong somehow. Did not realize that this was confusing until much later. ^^;

I've always had a problem with people talking over each other and constantly interrupting each other. It's to the point where I literally check out of conversations for a while when I get overwhelmed. Check out, then stammer, then go utterly silent. I get the sense this is not neurotypical.

Evidently??? My therapist thinks???? That my reactions to secondhand smoke and the smell of marijuana may be an autism thing???? Hyper sensitivity to certain senses?????? Thing is, the doctors won't test me for allergic reactions, so idek. Doctors, please test me. I wish to know why I doubled over coughing my lungs out and was in immense pain when one of my students walked through the door. I literally couldn't breathe for half a day afterwards and still had to keep pushing through.

Whenever I get overwhelmed at a friend's house, I like to organize their dishes. Repetitive motion with clear progress goes brrrrrrr.

If you interrupt me while I'm doing my homework, I will go feral on you. And then I won't be able to regain my concentration. And then I'll cry.

I always have to use music to get started on projects or to time myself on them. I have timed ambiances, playlists, lofi (timed and not timed), and the Ghost Hunt OST for difficult mathematics. It helps me filter everything else out so I can focus and not get interrupted.

Yeah, no. Do not interrupt me while working. It's very frustrating. More than that, it's overwhelming, and then I gotta focus on two difficult things at once (whatever I'm working on plus figuring out how to politely interact with the Distraction while not getting mad).

Anyways, yeah. XD Autistic things. Aren't they fun.

(obviously this is just my own experience. different people look different in all of this)

[wreywrites]

Tiger Shark

Part 4: The Anchor

Chapter 21

I don’t knock. It is too quiet in my room, and he’s been living here for a month. I just let myself in and crawl into bed next to him.

“Hi,” he mumbles.

I pull the blanket up to my ears. “Will you tell me something?”

“Can’t sleep?”

“Too quiet. I can hear them.”

There is a long sigh. Finnick rolls over and we are nose to nose. “You promise?”

“It’s the usual for a reason, Odair.”

“Listen, honey, we have very specific rules on nicknames, and if you’re going to backpedal on your end…”

“Sorry. I’m just frustrated and tired and I can’t sleep.”

“And you want me to solve your problems.”

“You’re already awake.”

He sighs again. “Fine. Close your eyes and imagine it: a ten-year-old me, about to be stung by his first jellyfish.”

I can’t help it. I open my eyes and raise an eyebrow. “You were ten before you got stung?”

“Yes, and I could have been older, but I was distracted, now let me finish.”

I close my eyes again.

“It was the first really hot day that summer, and my mom took me swimming. We went out past the reef up by the Traps and swam out to the drop off. Mom loved going over the drop off. I did not. But the reef was so jaw-dropping up there, with all the fish, and no fishing boats to scare anything off or to have to watch out for. So Mom was swimming a few yards past the drop off, and I was on the shallow side…”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

I wake up the next morning earlier than I would like to. This means I am once again alone with my thoughts, which is what I was trying to avoid last night. Oh well. A deal’s a deal. We’ve been doing this for almost a month. At night, when everything is quiet, I can’t sleep. It’s when my fades get really bad, because there is nothing to block out the sounds in my head. So for a while I asked Finnick to sit in my room and talk until I fell asleep. Once I was asleep, he would walk across the hall and sleep in one of the empty rooms. And then one night we both remembered how well we slept that night the week before my shortened Victory Tour, so we tried it out, and now we’re hooked.

I still try to sleep alone. And sometimes I can, but most nights it doesn’t happen. Thankfully I’m not plagued by nightmares—once I fall asleep, I usually sleep through the night. Finnick, not so much. He has terrible nightmares, and he never wakes up without thinking he’s back in the arena. So the deal is that he talks until I fall asleep, and then I stay in bed until he wakes up. Thankfully, he’s not one to sleep in to excess, because the silent mornings sometimes prove troublesome as well.

So I watch him sleep. It’s a little creepy, but he looks so different asleep that I can’t help staring. He looks younger. Or maybe he just looks his age and I’m used to seeing him have to act like someone much older, bearing more responsibility than any twenty-year-old should have to bear. In sleep, he doesn’t hold life and death for some luckless teenagers in his hands. In sleep, he has no Capitol to despise, to obey, to fear. In sleep, he is not a victor, not a Capitol toy, not a celebrity, he is just Finnick Odair, the boy who wasn’t stung by a jellyfish until he was ten, the child who was convinced that his mother forgot how to tie shoes, the man who seductively ate strawberries just to make me uncomfortable. And in this moment, I can almost forget the horrific things I’ve seen and done, the blood on my hands, the loss I’ve endured. In this moment, I am content.

He snuck up on me all right.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

I’ve learned what to look for when Finnick is about to wake up. He doesn’t look relaxed anymore. His eyelids twitch, and he squirms and moves a lot. It is midmorning when he starts turning his head from side to side and mumbling.

I take a deep breath. One day last week he punched me when he woke up, so it takes a bit of mental preparation now. With one hand, I take the closer of his hands. I put the other on his cheek. It occurs to me that puts me in prime biting position. I hope he doesn’t bite me. I hope very much he doesn’t bite me.

“Hey,” I say quietly. “Finnick, you can wake up now. You’re home.”

His eyes snap open and his free hand grabs my wrist. I wince as his fingers clamp down. If he ever went off the rails in a fit of nightmare-induced irrationality and tried to kill me, he could do it.

“Hey,” I say again. “Good morning.”

He blinks, then closes his eyes and lets out a slow breath, letting go of my wrist.

I run my thumb over his cheek. “Bad dream?” I don’t know why I ask. The answer is always yes, and he never wants to talk about them. But what else am I supposed to say in this situation?

He nods.

I start to pull my hand away, but he grabs it, holding it against his cheek. After a second, he opens his eyes to look at me. “Stay?”

I smile, nod. “As long as you want.”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

I actually fall back asleep, apparently, because the next thing I know I am waking up again. This time Finnick is already awake. Or maybe still awake. And this time he is watching me sleep.

I grin and wrinkle my nose at him.

He smiles back. “I wish it was raining.”

“What?” I laugh. “Why?”

“Because it’s going to feel weird just laying in bed all day if it’s nice outside.”

“You want to lay in bed all day?”

“I do!” He brushes a stray hair behind my ear. “I want to lay in bed all day and do nothing but look at you and remember exactly what you look like right now and exactly how I feel and…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Damn it, you keep sneaking up on me.” And then he kisses me.

It’s surprising, but somehow also not at all. I should have, could have, seen this coming a mile away and months ago. Actually at several points in time I did see this coming, but I did nothing about it. I didn’t alter course, I didn’t steer around the reef. Snuck up, my foot.

And yet… I would’ve steered far away if I saw this coming. In fact, at the first sign of danger, I had panicked. Only to learn later and the hard way that it was already too late. For better or worse, I need this man in my life, and it took me a long time to realize that. But now that I know, I’m not letting go of this any time soon.

I’m the one that breaks off. I don’t want to, but I do. Because there, still in the back of my mind, always there, is Mako. And this seems wrong. And I am hungry, which is a convenient excuse. But I’m hoping Finnick doesn’t follow me to the kitchen, because I need to sort through the shoal of thoughts crashing against each other in my mind.

Sadly, frying some whale bacon doesn’t help. I’m still confused, and the smell brings Finnick to the kitchen.

He starts to apologize.

“Don’t.” I cut him off. “It’s… I need to figure myself out.”

He nods. “I’m still here either way. I’ve decided I like sleeping through the night.”

I smile. “I know what you mean.”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

So he starts sleeping in his house again. It goes poorly for both of us, because I spend my nights lost in a haze, drifting between reality and the arena, and I’m confident his nightmares follow him. But we do spend our days together. Reading, drawing, tying complicated trick knots, learning how to bake (Finnick is surprisingly good at this, I am not good at all), napping on the couch. And the whole time, in the back of my mind, I wrestle with memories of Mako.

Winter stretches on, and then spring comes. I am looking forward to lobster diving, even to just being able to swim without threat of hypothermia. And on the first warm day we get, Finnick and I go up to the Traps.

We spend the morning lounging on the beach, waiting for the heat of the afternoon to swim. I doze off for a while, but soon it is warm enough for swimming, so we swim out to the drop off.

I’m floating on my back when Finnick calls from a few yards away, “Right here. This is the very place I was stung by my first jellyfish.”

I return to an upright position and swim over to him. “How do you know this is exactly that spot? There’s no way.”

“There’s a rusty anchor just to the left here, and I- you fell asleep before I got to the part where the jellyfish stung me, didn’t you?”

“I might have. Your stories tend to get long-winded.”

“Well you tend to take a long time to settle in and fall asleep.”

I shrug. “So this is the place?” I clear my throat and put on my best Caesar Flickerman impression. “History was made here. In this humble yet beautiful part of District Four, a boy became a man.”

Finnick rolls his eyes. “I don’t know why I share intimate details of my life with you.”

I laugh. “That’s not intimate. And please don’t take this as an invitation to share the actual intimate details of your life—I don’t want to know. But enough of this reminiscing, let’s go over!”

And then he does one of the few things he has ever done that truly surprises me. His eyes widen and he shakes his head rapidly. “No, no, I’m fine staying here.”

“What?” I feel a smile creeping across my face. “Are you scared?”

“No!”

“Then just come with me!” I grab his arm and pull him toward the drop off.

He pulls back. “I don’t have to prove myself to you!”

“No, you don’t. And you won’t be proving anything, you’ll just be swimming.”

But he doesn’t budge, and we’re equally matched when it comes to swimming, so I have to leave him. I drift over the edge. It is scary, being in twelve or fifteen feet of brightly-lit water one minute, and the next having blue-gray eternity stretching down below you, but I love it. The rush of the unknown, the feeling of being so small and insignificant, the knowledge that my very presence is a challenge to the sea. I love it. And as I grin back at Finnick, I can see he does not.

“Will you just come back?”

I laugh at him, shake my head, roll onto my back and float over the abyss. And I don’t know why I feel so recklessly safe here, but I do.

But Finnick looks lonely, like a lost puppy, so I drift back to the shallow side of the drop off.

After a while we go back to the beach. I draw in the sand while Finnick looks for oysters. They’re hard to find here because the whole point of the Traps is that it’s where the Capitol socialites stay when they visit Four on vacation, so the beach is perpetually picked over. It takes him a few hours to give up, and by then I’ve drawn and erased a shark several times, trying to get the teeth right. Not that sand is the best medium for detail.

The afternoon turns to evening, and we head for home. I lay awake late into the night.

Things seem to make sense now. All the nights we’ve spent sitting up, talking, all the days relaxing on the beach and lobster-diving, all the jokes, the laughing until we cried, the quiet moments when we got lost in our own terrible memories, the afternoons he’d fallen asleep on my shoulder while I read, the nights I curled up next to him and listened to endless stories until I finally fell asleep. I think I might have been in denial for a long time, but now, lost in thought as I frequently am, I wonder about what Mako would think of everything that’s happened since I won. He wouldn’t be proud, that’s for sure. He would have wanted me to live my life to the fullest, and that eventually leads me to the realization that he would expect, maybe even want, me to move on. He would certainly want me to be happy again eventually, and dwelling on all the horrible things I’ve seen and been through and all the things that can’t be isn’t making me happy.

So I decide to live as best I can.

****

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