#i live about two hours away from there now

[peachesofteal]

The wallflower.

Johnny clocks it immediately, your shoulders practically pinned against the pale-yellow wall, pint glass slick with condensation cradled between your fingers. Your eyes dart around and then away, finding something to study in the carpet, or the stairs, on the coffee table.

You’re not comfortable here, that much is clear.

He elbows Simon. “Poor girl looks nervous.” Simon gives you a furtive glance over the rim of his glasses, and nods.

“Probably only knows one person. Or got dragged here.” It’s Kyle’s wife’s birthday party. She has a lot of friends it seems, well liked in all facets of her life, work and otherwise. He clucks his tongue. “Sweet thing.” Someone bumps into you, and then pivots, reaching out to grab your arm in apology. You don’t tell him off or pull away. You just glance at his hand, meek smile stretching your lips sour. It turns Johnny’s stomach.

“She needs rescuing.”

“Johnny.” There’s a warning in Simon’s tone, a reproachful sentiment that he knows well. No strays. No projects. No more shelter pets.

“Ach c’mon. Look at her.” That one muscle in Simon’s cheek feathers, the one that says everything without Simon saying anything at all. Broken resolve.

He sighs. Johnny grins.

“Ye alright?” The man who’s taken up a residence at your shoulder is now speaking to you. Worse, he’s asking you if you’re alright.  

“I… I’m good. Yeah. Fine.” You grip your glass tighter, ignoring the flip of your stomach. You snuck at glance at him when he first came over, and that was enough. He’s very handsome.

And you’re, well-

You’re… you.

“Someone ditch ye?” Oh god.

“Uh, no. My friend is over there.” You point to Anna’s back. She’s in the kitchen, laughing so loud you can hear her from across the living room.

“Ah. She did ditch ye.”

“No!” You glare at him, “No.”

“But she didnae offer to introduce you to anyone?” You wince, and his eyes flicker with sympathy. “Ah, she did.”

“I’m not good with… people.” The understatement of the year. You don’t do people. People are too unpredictable, too much of an unknown. A pattern of behavior will only take you so far, and it’s hard to forecast their actions, reactions, words, emotions… everything.

You prefer safer bets. Predictable things. Equations, mostly.

“Ye’re not good w’people, but ye’re at a party.”

“Yes, it’s quite a feat.” You snap your mouth shut, expecting him to give you a weird look, but he laughs.

“If ye’re uncomfortable, why stay?”

“Because, social interactions are good for me. And I promised myself a slice of cheese pizza if I made it an hour.” He should laugh. Most would. Most would think it’s fucking hilarious, how you’re bribing yourself, dangling a carrot in front of your face.

But this guy doesn’t. He doesn’t laugh. He cocks his head, and frowns. “So… ye’re torturing yourself so ye can earn a slice of pizza.” A nervous giggle bubbles up and out your throat.

“It sounds bad when you put it that way but-“

“It is bad.” A deep voice sounds from over your shoulder, and you jump.

“This is Simon.” Your new… friend, Johnny, motions to the hulking man at your side, and you manage a nod, spitting out your name. “He’s no’ scary, just looks it.” Johnny reaches for his hand, and the equation clicks to together with ease.

Oh.

“You here with a friend?”

“Uh. Yep.” You point to Anna, again, and they exchange a look.

“She ditch ya?” Same question, different accent, and you’re about to give the same answer, when Johnny intercedes.

“She’s here so she can have a slice of pizza.” Yeah. It sounds bad.

“Wot?”

“I… It’s good for me to be around people so I said if I could do it for an hour, I could have pizza.” They’re both wearing expressions you can’t translate, two faces you don’t understand, and it twists you up.

“Do you usually ransom yourself pizza?”

“N-no.”

“Is it… an eating thing?”

“Oh, no. It’s like… I’d rather be at home, but everyone says socializing is… important. So, for doing something I hate, I get pizza.” Simon sighs.

“Trying to fit a square into a circle.” The comment is puzzling, but as you’re trying to put it together, Johnny links his pinky with yours and tugs you closer. The room is quiet, the music, the laughing, the chatter, all of it goes silent. There are dozens and dozens of people in here, but right now, it’s just you and these two. Staring at one another. There’s a web thin string spinning from him, to you, to Simon, and it’s wrapping you up, cocooning you, holding you tight.

“This okay?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Ye wannae go get that slice with us?” Do it. Just do it. Do something. You take a deep breath.

“Sure.”  

They look comical, shoved into the pleather red booth across the table from you, Simon far too wide to comfortably accommodate Johnny, but they don’t seem to mind. “So, cheese then?” You nod, picking at the faded corner of a menu. This was a bad idea, this was stupid. What were you thinking? Why-

“Three slices of cheese please.” You hadn’t even noticed the server, and you panic when she starts to turn away.

“And a coke!” You blurt, immediately embarrassed. She stares at you for a second before nodding, forcing a smile, and walking off. Fuck. You press your palm down on the table, trying to focus on the texture, the feel of it.

“Hey,” Simon says softly, “you didn’t do anything wrong.” You bristle.

“I know that.” Of course you know… don’t you?

Clearly not.

They don’t try to force you into conversation, but they do talk to you. They don’t ask you pointed questions or try to dig into you, instead choosing to tell you about themselves, their dog, their jobs. They keep you involved without dragging you in unwillingly.

It’s nice.

You’re halfway through your slice when you realize they’re watching you.

 “What? Is there something on my face?” You frantically wipe at your chin, your cheeks. Simon’s mouth quirks.

“Nothing on your face, sweet girl.” Your brain scrambles. Words fail. You don’t think anyone has ever called you something like that before.

“Oh. Okay. Well. Good.” Stupid.

“Go on and finish up.” He instructs, pointing at the grease laden slice, and you bring it to your mouth obediently. “Want to come for a walk with us after this? Our favorite park is around the corner, and the moon is really bright tonight.” A walk. With them. A walk? What does that mean? Just like, a walk?

Do it. Just do it. Do something. Be brave.

You roll your shoulders, and take a bite of your pizza, chewing slowly and swallowing.

And then you nod.

“Yes.”

[mapis-putellas]

𝑮𝒓𝒖𝒎𝒑𝒚 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒍𝒊𝒏/𝑳.𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒎𝒔𝒐𝒏

A lot of you guys have said you’ve been missing the Leah fics, so here’s a quick little thing for you. Got it done in an hour and only had to proofread once! <3

“Baby, come on, you’ve got to drink something.” Leah’s voice was soft yet firm as she crouched by the couch, holding a glass of water in one hand and looking at you with those worried eyes that made you feel even guiltier about the state you were in.

You groaned in response, rolling onto your side and burying your face into the cushion. Every inch of your body ached, and even the simple act of moving your head felt like climbing a mountain. “Can’t. Hurts too much,” you croaked, though it came out more like a rasp.

Leah sighed, setting the glass down on the coffee table before gently brushing a damp strand of hair away from your forehead. Her fingers lingered, checking the heat radiating from your skin. “Your fever’s still high. Darling, if you don’t drink something, you’re going to make yourself worse.”

“I already feel like I’m dying,” you mumbled, not bothering to lift your head. “Might as well let it happen.”

She chuckled softly, though the concern in her tone never wavered. “You’re not dying. You’ve just got the flu. A really bad case, I’ll admit, but you’re not dying.”

You grumbled incoherently, too miserable to come up with a retort. Leah stood, and you heard her moving around the living room before she returned, sitting on the edge of the couch beside you. “Alright, sit up for me, my girl. Just for a second.”

“Can’t,” you whined, clutching the cushion like it was a lifeline. “Hurts too much.”

Leah rolled her eyes, though the affectionate smile on her lips gave her away. “You’re so dramatic. Come on, I’ll help you.” She slid her arm beneath your shoulders, her touch gentle as she propped you up. You let out a pitiful whimper at the movement, your head lolling against her shoulder.

“I hate this,” you muttered, your voice thick with congestion.

“I know you do, darling,” she said, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “But I love you, and I’m not letting you waste away on this couch. Now, open up.” She held the glass of water to your lips, tilting it just enough for you to take a small sip.

You winced as the cool liquid hit your raw throat, but you forced yourself to swallow. Leah’s hand rubbed soothing circles on your back, her touch grounding you despite the misery. “That’s it, good girl,” she murmured.

Once you’d managed a few sips, she set the glass aside and eased you back down onto the couch. You let out a long, wheezy sigh, your head sinking into the cushion as your body went limp. Leah tucked the blanket around you, her fingers brushing against your cheek. “There we go. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Speak for yourself,” you grumbled, turning your face into the cushion again.

Leah laughed quietly, leaning down to kiss your temple. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re annoying,” you shot back, though your words lacked any real bite. Despite how awful you felt, her presence was a comfort you couldn’t deny even if her persistence was driving you up the wall.

She stood, her hands on her hips as she surveyed the scene. The living room was a mess, tissues scattered across the coffee table and floor, an untouched bowl of soup sitting on the side table, and you lying there like a damp, sweaty heap. Leah sighed, shaking her head. “Alright, we need to get you cleaned up.”

You groaned in protest, pulling the blanket over your head. “No. Can’t move.”

“Darling, you haven’t showered in two days,” she said, her tone half-amused, half-exasperated. “You’re sweaty, and I’m pretty sure you smell.”

“Good thing my nose is blocked, then,” you muttered from under the blanket. “Can’t smell anything.”

Leah chuckled, pulling the blanket down just enough to reveal your face. “Well, I can smell you, and trust me, it’s not great. Come on, let me help you to the bathroom.”

You gave her a glare that lacked its usual intensity, your energy too drained to argue properly. “Leah, I swear, if you try to move me, I’ll—”

“You’ll what? Sneeze on me?” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “I’m already covered in your germs, darling. A few more won’t hurt.”

“Fine,” you mumbled, giving up the fight before it even started. “But if I pass out, it’s your fault.”

Leah grinned, sliding her arms beneath you and carefully lifting you off the couch. You clung to her hoodie, your face pressed against her shoulder as she carried you toward the bathroom with you cradled against her chest. “You’re lucky I love you,” you muttered, your voice muffled by the fabric.

“I know, my girl,” she said, kissing the top of your head. “And I love you too, even when you’re being a grumpy little gremlin.”

You could do no more than pathetically huff at the nickname.

Once in the bathroom, Leah set you down on the edge of the bathtub, holding you steady as you swayed slightly. She turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature before helping you out of your sweat soaked clothes. She doesn’t let you stand until she’s undressed too, and you hum in content at feeling of her skin against your own as she holds you to her chest and steps into the shower.

The water was a relief, washing away the grime and sweat that clung to your skin. Your head lay limp against her shoulder, her hands gentle as she helped you wash, her touch careful around your aching muscles. She didn’t say much, letting the water and her presence do most of the work to soothe you.

By the time she helped you out of the shower and wrapped you in a fluffy towel, you felt marginally more human. Leah dried you off with the same care, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before scooping you up and carrying you into the bedroom. She helped you into clean pyjamas and got herself situated into some clean clothes before tucking you back under the blanket on the couch, placing another glass of water on the coffee table beside you.

“There,” she said, sitting down beside you and pulling you into her arms. “All clean and cozy.”

You rested your head against her chest, your nose still running as you sniffled pitifully. Leah grabbed a tissue, gently wiping your nose before you could protest. “That’s disgusting,” you muttered.

“And yet, here I am,” she said with a smirk, tossing the tissue into the bin. “You’re stuck with me, darling.”

You sighed, your head lolling against her chest as exhaustion pulled at you. “Lucky me.”

Leah chuckled, wrapping her arms around you and pressing another kiss to your temple. “Go to sleep, my girl. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

As you drifted off, the last thing you felt was the steady beat of her heart beneath your cheek and the warmth of her arms around you.

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[dixons-sunshine]

Together | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Daryl were thousands of miles away from your home. In an unknown country filled with new threats, you knew that you had to fight for your life—and hour unborn child’s. And you knew that you eventually had to tell Daryl about it, too.

Genre: Angst? Fluff? I don’t even know.

Era: France

Warnings: Swearing, canon typical violence, pregnancy, probably inaccuracies in this regarding the episode.

Word count: 1k

A/N: Requested by @holdmytesseract. This is the request you sent my way a long time ago lol. I hope you like this! Also, I’m sorry if this might be inaccurate regarding the episode. I haven’t watched it in a hot minute and did not have the time to watch it again, so I had to improvise on what I remembered.

Everything was happening so fast. One moment, you and Daryl were walking away from the monastery, your respective bags slung over your shoulders and well on your way to… you did not know, but you knew you were going away from the community of nuns. The next moment, you and Daryl were rushing back towards the very same community, weapons raised and helping to fight off the onslaught of bad people that had infiltrated their defences.

Admittedly, although you were focused on helping the nuns defend the only home they had left in the world run by the undead, your mind kept wandering back to the fact that you needed to take as little damage as possible. You could not get hurt. Not now, and not anytime in the near future. You could not risk it—your baby’s safety depended on it.

Your baby. Those words still felt so surreal for you to say. Under normal circumstances, you would have been over the moon with joy at the prospect of starting a family, but the realization had come at the worst of times. You were in a different country, thousands of miles away from your home and your family with seemingly no way of getting back, so the news did not exactly serve to make anyone feel better, and it would only ensure that more stress get placed on not only your shoulders, but Daryl’s as well.

It was your worry that had prohibited you from telling the crossbow-wielding archer of his impending fatherhood, and now you were in yet another life-threatening situation with no guarantees of survival. You promised yourself that if you lived through this, the first thing you would tell Daryl was that you were pregnant.

With your gun raised in front of you, sister Isabelle followed closely behind you as you rushed further into the garden. Your eyes momentarily found your husband’s figure fighting off one of the guys, and although your every instinct told you to go help him, you knew you couldn’t. Isabelle had asked you to help her ensure that Laurent stayed safe, and you were not one to unnecessarily endanger a child’s life.

“Where did you say you put him?!” you yelled to sister Isabelle over the deafening sounds of gun shots being fired, shooting an approaching walker in the head.

Isabelle pulled you aside to hide behind one of the walls when a bullet flew dangerously close to the two of you, her heart practically beating out of her chest. “Towards that building with that secret room where you and Daryl saw our weapons.”

“That’s on the other side of this place!” you exclaimed, your eyes widening as your mind scrambled to think of any sort of plan to get there.

However, your thoughts got cut off by the feeling of someone harshly gripping your shoulder and pulling you back. Unwillingly, a scream left your throat, one that got silenced when a blade got pushed against your neck.

The man’s breath fanned over your cheek, but his attention shifted away from you and towards Isabelle. “Try anything, and the bitch gets it,” he voiced in a thick French accent, deliberately speaking English so that you could understand him as well.

As quickly as the man got his grip on you, it fell away just as quickly. The knife fell from his hand and to the floor with a dull clink, and the man fell down to the floor, nearly taking you with him but you jumped forward just in time. You turned around and saw Daryl standing there, his cerulean eyes filled to the brim with both worry and rage.

You quickly turned around to look at Isabelle. However, you did not even have to say anything. She simply nodded at you, an understanding look in her eyes.

“I’ll go.” With that, she turned around and hurried away, leaving you alone with Daryl.

Daryl’s eyes locked with yours when you spun back around to gaze at him. He gently pulled you behind the wall to relative safety. “Are you—”

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted out, taking both you and Daryl by surprise. You, because you had not intended to say that at that moment, and Daryl because he had not even known you were with child.

“What?” he asked, bewildered and taken off guard.

“I’m pregnant,” you repeated, tears welling up in your eyes. “I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I was so scared of how you’d react. I just wanted to let you know in case something happened.”

Despite the shock still lingering, and the slight anger at the fact that you had kept it from him, he knew there were far more pressing matters at hand. And despite the situation you both were in, he could not help the small feeling of happiness at the news. However, there would be time to discuss everything later. Right now, his only concern was keeping you safe. His mind went into overdrive, and he was in full protective mode.

“Ain’t nothin’ gon’ happen to ya,” he spoke gruffly. He reloaded his gun and sent you a pointed look. “Stay close to me at all times, okay? We’re gettin’ outta this. You’re gonna be alright. M’gonna make sure of it.”

Despite the tenseness of your predicament, you managed to give him a small, genuine smile. You nodded and made sure to cock your own gun, preparing yourself for what was to come.

“Okay,” you replied softly.

Together, both you and Daryl braced yourselves to keep fighting back against the bad people. You both pushed through and rushed towards where you saw Laurent and Isabelle, and despite the fact that you were battling for your own survival, you felt oddly at peace.

This, you could do. Fighting for your life was not something new to you. You had done so against many forces, from the Governor, to the Terminus people, to Negan, the Whisperers and so many more. You would not go down easily.

And although you and Daryl had a lot to talk about, you knew that everything would work out in the end. It always did. Your love for Daryl was strong, and his love for you might even be stronger. The two of you would get through this, and you would do it together.

[sylver-star]

hi your writing is so cute!! could you please please please write getting married w vernon?? thank you! can't wait to see how this turns out!

❝ Like Fate ❞ - Chwe Vernon x reader

a/n: thank you! i have a hard time picturing how vernon would have a wedding, so i decided to just write a quiet moment between them

genre: blurb, fluff, established relationship, marriage word count: 722 warnings: mentions of alcohol rating: PG / SFW

Disclaimer: My works are fictional and do not reflect real-life situations, cultures, or individuals. All characters are purely fictional, regardless of names or descriptions.

Embarrassing childhood photos had been shown, speeches had been delivered, and now the venue was filled with the sounds of laughter and the rhythmic pulse of music. The celebratory atmosphere had gradually turned into a lively frenzy, with most people dancing, drinks in hand, and everyone letting loose. But as the night wore on, you found yourself growing more and more tired, the excitement of the day catching up with you.

Vernon, ever the attentive husband, had noticed the subtle shift in your demeanor. After offering a quiet, understanding glance, he gently led you away from the crowd, guiding you to a small, tucked-away corner where the noise seemed a little more distant. It was a cozy, intimate nook in the venue, a small space with dim lighting and a few scattered chairs. Despite the venue’s modest size, it felt like everything you’d ever wanted for this moment—a simple, private space to catch your breath.

Now, seated on a low window sill, you leaned your head against Vernon’s shoulder, savoring the peaceful stillness for a moment. Your dress, which had seemed so pristine hours ago, now hung a little limp with the weight of the evening, but you didn’t mind. Everything had been beautiful: the ceremony, the speeches, the way Vernon had looked at you when you said your vows. It was all more than you could have hoped for.

But as the noise from the party reached a crescendo and you felt the tug of exhaustion pulling at you, you let out a soft sigh. “Today was really nice,” you said quietly, almost as if to yourself. “Even if I was shaky during the ceremony, it was very nice.”

Vernon turned his head slightly to look at you. His eyes were warm, filled with affection, and when he spoke, his voice was steady and reassuring. “You weren’t shaky,” he said firmly. “You were perfect. You are perfect.”

You smiled faintly, the soft glow of the overhead lights casting a gentle halo around his face. The room around you seemed to blur and spin, but you weren’t sure if it was from the couple of drinks you’d had or if it was simply because Vernon had a way of making you feel like you were floating in some dreamlike state, completely consumed by love. Maybe it was both.

“You make me perfect,” you replied, your voice light, playful, yet filled with sincerity.

Normally, you’d both laugh your asses off at how cheesy that sounded, but tonight felt different. Maybe it was the quiet, intimate setting, or maybe it was the sheer joy of the moment, but neither of you could hold back the goofy smiles that tugged at your lips. There was something undeniably sweet about this quiet corner, this rare space where it was just the two of you, sharing something that was uniquely yours. You glanced down at your hands, now intertwined, and you couldn’t help but trace the smooth, cool surface of the wedding band on your finger, still unfamiliar, but infinitely precious.

“I can’t believe that we’re married,” you murmured, your voice soft as if saying it aloud would make it even more real.

Vernon hummed in agreement, his fingers gently squeezing yours. From somewhere in the background, you could hear someone—Soonyoung, you thought, though you couldn’t be sure—belting out the lyrics to one of your favorite songs. The music was a distant backdrop to the calm stillness between you and Vernon. His thumb stroked the back of your hand absentmindedly, his focus entirely on you.

“I don’t think I could be happier,” Vernon said quietly, his voice full of warmth and certainty. He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand, lingering there just for a moment. “Like, this was meant to be or something.”

You turned your head slightly, raising an eyebrow at him. “You believe in fate?” you asked, half teasing, half curious.

Vernon paused, his lips quirking into a thoughtful smile as he gave it a moment of consideration. His expression shifted playfully as he wrinkled his nose slightly, as if trying to decide how seriously he should take the question. Then, with a sudden burst of confidence, he broke into a grin so wide it made your heart flutter. “With you?” he said. “Absolutely.”

[crushmeeren]

༝ ᭝ ༝ ARRANGED MARRIAGE AU — PART ONE ༝ ᭝ ༝

⤷ ⋆ ft. itachi uchiha ⋆

⋆ note ; this was inspired by this post. credit to @majesticflyingwalrus ! sfw! small bit of angst!

⋆ note x 2 ; i believe this is going to have to become a miniseries…. so let’s say this is part one — centered around a small snippet of your connection with Itachi before, your feelings on the day of, and the first year of your marriage.

master list

You’d spoken to your husband maybe a dozen times before you were married.

Before you were thrown headfirst into a life long commitment with someone you could only comfortably consider an acquaintance for the sake of your clan.

Itachi Uchiha is polite. He’s collected, calm, rational. As children, he’d never been rude. He was a quiet boy, heir to the Uchiha clan. Someone who understood what it’s like to carry the weight of being the eldest child and all the responsibilities that accompany it, which you found comfort in.

Your families were close - ish, both high up on the social food chain. Whenever you’d been forced to spend time with him as a kid, he’d sit quietly nearby, working on a puzzle or reading some sort of book. Every now and then he’d invite you to join him and complete a puzzle, which featured pretty pictures of crows quite often, but you never spoke much outside of that.

Those memories you look back on with fondness, peaceful moments in an otherwise stress filled life.

As the years passed, and you reached your early twenties, your families renewed their bond, strengthened it. You remained unmarried, and so did Itachi. Your parents gave you grief over it, and when they brought up an arranged marriage, more than willing to give your hand away to Itachi, it didn’t surprise you. You’d been expecting it.

Itachi’s handsome, you respect him, and he’s kind, so you ignored the sensation of the ocean echoing in your ribcage and sucked it up. For your clan, you went along with the proposal. For your clan, you resigned yourself to a lifetime of loneliness.

Besides, you could do much worse than Itachi, right?

The planning was a breeze, over half the preparations being done for you. Your Mother, and Itachi’s, asked for your input considering certain aspects, but this wedding seemed more about the two of them instead of celebrating your union.

You have no clue if Itachi got a say in anything.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

The day of the wedding you sat alone. Your Mother had been droning on and on about “proper etiquette”, and the “importance of sticking to the itinerary”, when the reality of the situation crashed down on you. Hard.

Your entire body chilled, a rush of icy slush replacing your blood, heart caught in your throat. Sweat beaded on the back of your neck, palms clammy. Once your hands started to shake your Mother stared at you in bewilderment, her questions concerning your health muffled and far away to your ears.

You excused yourself without waiting for permission, locating the nearest vacant room to hide, crouch down, and to breathe.

Through the window you gaze at the small children from both families playing in the field. Jealousy burns hot in your chest at their carefree nature, the little ones living in ignorance and bliss. You squeeze your eyes shut to shake off the dark direction of your mind, allowing their high pitched peals of laughter to afford you a moment of calm. Reaching up you wipe the tears off your cheek with the back of your hand, careful of the delicate makeup that’d taken hours to perfect.

A soft knock on the door startles you, both eyes opening wide. You sniffle once and rise to your feet, smoothing out any wrinkles in your outfit, regaining your composure.

“Come in,” you call out, voice scratchy with the evidence of your recent crying. You clear your throat as the door opens and, to your surprise, it’s Itachi who steps in. The door swings shut behind him, not producing a single sound. Your eyebrows shoot up and Itachi gives you a small, comforting smile.

It’s silent as he walks closer, the air around you somber and achy. He sits down with enviable grace in the chair next to where you stand, patting the seat beside himself in invitation.

“I’m aware this day is…difficult,” he begins. He tilts his head up to meet your gaze, eyes warm and calm. “Your Mother told me you were in here. I wanted to be sure you were okay, so, are you alright?”

You sigh through your nose, resigned, and take a seat. Itachi reaches over and hovers his hand an inch above your knee, hesitant, before making the decision to rest it there. You stare at his hand, the lump in your throat returning, only this time it’s due to the sudden surge of affection swelling for the man.

“I’m doing well, all things considered,” you say light heartedly. You sneak your hand underneath his, thread your fingers together, and lift your head to lock eyes with Itachi, the corner of your mouth curling upwards.

Itachi laughs, and for the first time, you notice the movement crinkles the sides of his eyes. How endearing.

His expression switches to something more sympathetic, tender. “I apologize this has been forced upon you. If it helps, I’m very content with you being the one chosen for me. It’s comforting to me that I’m marrying someone who I’m on friendly terms with.”

“Yes,” you agree, eyes twinkling as his sweet words lift your spirits from the floor. “Although, I have to admit I’m heartbroken to be marrying you instead of Sasuke.”

Itachi’s jaw drops open, eyes going round like saucers before laughter bursts out of you, squeezing his hand tight as he rolls his eyes and joins in with you.

“A pity,” He teases. “I know for a fact my menace of a little brother would be ecstatic to marry someone as wonderful as you,” Itachi says, humming as he pretends to be in thought. “Don’t be surprised to find Sasuke waiting for you at the altar.”

You gasp in fake shock, leaning in to bump his shoulder with yours. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The sincerity of the statement leaves you searching for the right response, a small horde of butterflies demanding their presence be known in your belly. Things grow quiet between you once more, the silence comforting rather than awkward while you find your voice. “I am truly grateful that it’s you, Itachi. I doubt I could survive this with someone else.”

Itachi shifts his body to face yours, expression determined and serious. “I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make our life comfortable. Even if our relationship is not romantic, I’m grateful to be on the receiving end of your friendship. We’ll find our rhythm, promise me you won’t give up hope.”

You do promise, even going so far as to lock your pinkies together. Itachi exits first, and you follow his footsteps a few moments later.

When you leave your heart’s lighter than air.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

The first year of your marriage, Itachi lives like he’s your roommate. Nothing more, nothing less.

You sleep in different rooms, you’ve made your home in separate bathrooms, and Itachi keeps busy enough with clan affairs that his appearance throughout the day is sparse. Somehow, dinner happens to be the time you’ve both allotted for the other. It’s not in writing, and you don’t speak about it, yet Itachi joins you nearly every evening to share a meal.

You’ve created quite a comfortable routine for yourself within your new life as Itachi’s wife. That’s all it is though, comfortable. Just as Itachi promised.

Loneliness is your shadow from day one. On your wedding night, you’d harbored a shred of hope that you’d share an intimate night with your new husband. When you’d kissed Itachi in your bedroom, fumbling to undress him, his response was to break the kiss as gently as he could. He declined with a strained smile and manners that never seem to abandon him.

Crying into your pillow, alone, was not what you expected to be on the table.

Itachi sat prim and proper at the table the next morning when you tried to apologize for making him uncomfortable. He assured you that wasn’t the case, but asked that you didn’t bring it up again, as he felt that enough had been pushed onto your shoulders already. He refused to add sex that you wouldn’t enjoy to the list.

You swallowed your pride and respected his wishes, assuming it was his way of letting you down easy and that Itachi had no real desire for you besides that of a simple companion. Yes, the situation was a blow straight to the gut, but you agreed to this life, so did you really have any right to complain?

Ever since, a distance remained between you. Day after day, you took up new hobbies, doing anything to fill the hole in your heart. As ironic as it may seem, you found yourself spending tons of time with Sasuke of all people. As if you did marry him instead.

You’d decided to start going on more walks, eager to explore and appreciate the beauty the Uchiha compound had to offer, and that’s where you discovered Sasuke.

Halfway through the journey you spotted him relaxing on a stone bench, watching koi fish swim circles in the pond, peaceful as you’d ever witnessed him. You’re sure Sasuke heard you approaching, because he was not surprised in the slightest when you took a careful seat next to him.

Quiet small talk about koi fish flowed through the air, and you mentioned your wish to tend to the gardens nearby. Then, on a whim, and before you could regret it, you asked him if he’d be interested in joining you on your daily strolls. The shock must have shown on your face when he accepted, because he snickered in response.

So that’s how you filled out your days. Occupied with different things such as drawing, gardening, baking, and going on walks with Sasuke. It shocked you to the core as you found a friend and confidant in the younger Uchiha.

A month after your one year anniversary with Itachi, you join him for dinner one night. He sits stiff as a board, shoulders tense when you arrive. A quick uptick of his lips becomes your singular greeting after you say hello.

“Is everything alright, Itachi?” You ask, tone weary as you settle down in your spot across from him.

He nods once, a quick jerk of his head. “Of course, I’ve just been meaning to speak with you about something. Before that however, tell me about your day.” Itachi sets his hands in his lap, waiting for your answer with an unreadable expression.

“Oh, well it was fine. Sasuke helped me —,”

“Sasuke?” He interrupts, voice tight.

Your eyebrow raises. “Yes,” you answer slowly. “I’m sure I’ve mentioned before we go on walks together.”

“Oh, yes. You’re right. I fear I’ve been quite forgetful today.” Itachi does seem distracted, which is odd in of itself. You’re certain you’ve discussed your walks with his little brother before and he never had an issue with it. You blink in Itachi’s direction, the atmosphere turning tense and unsettling. You’re able to hear to the crickets chirping outside.

The silence is awkward. “Is there something you needed to tell me?”

Itachi’s brows pinch together, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks. “Forgive me for being so out of it. Yes, something important. I spoke with my Mother and Father today, they’ve informed me the elders have been pressuring them to tell me that I need to fulfill my duty and…,” he pauses to clear his throat, gaze firm. “That you and I need to have a baby, to produce an heir.”

Your stomach drops, body flashing white hot, and your cheeks become hot to the touch within seconds. “Are you serious?”

“I wouldn’t lie.”

You let out an incredulous laugh. Once again you’re smacked in the face with the life you signed up for. If you’re honest, you’d forgotten about having children over the course of the past year. It’s inevitable you suppose, making little Uchiha babies with Itachi, you’re his wife. “No, you wouldn’t.”

Itachi opens his mouth to speak but you hold up a hand to stop him.

“Don’t you dare apologize, Itachi. I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to be your wife. All I ask is that you be gentle, I’m not so experienced after all,” you try to joke, but it falls flat.

His gaze softens, posture loosening. He remains quiet for a moment, thoughtful. Then guilt appears to be written all over his face. “I’m a virgin as well, so know you’re not alone in this.”

No beating around the bush with Itachi. At least he doesn’t apologize again. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, voice soft. You suck in a deep breath, hold it for a few seconds, and let it out slowly, steadying yourself. You’ll find time to spiral over this when you’re alone. “When are we going to start?”

Itachi shoots you a small smile, the same one full of comfort and reassurance he gave you on your wedding day. You hadn’t even realized your shoulders were hiked up with tension until they relax under his gaze. “In order to answer that, I have to ask you another uncomfortable question. When does your next cycle begin?”

⋆ ⋆ should this mini series arranged marriage au continue? lemme know what you think! ⋆ ⋆

[guppybibi]

just a proper written fic for the one i posted abt earlier! not a part 2, which i will be writing soon :3

tag: @msilwrites <3

It’s been a month since Johnny had gotten shot in the head, and as his spouse you were the first one to receive the news of his accident. When you arrived at the hospital, to see Johnny still there and alive, well barely, it felt like your heart sunk to the deepest pit in your stomach.

Recovery wasn't quick, that's for sure. As of now, Johnny is still going through physical therapy, medication, all of that. His speech was apparently affected by the injury as well, so…him not talking as much wasn't that strange, right?

Whatever it takes for him to recover, I guess. You remained positive, hoping that Johnny will make a full recovery soon. After all, you researched that younger people like Johnny have a better chance of recovery.

~~~~~~

Dinner hasn't been this quiet in like what…3 years?

Johnny’s has been staring at his plate full of food for the past 10 minutes now, you're not exactly sure if calling his attention is the right thing to do. He was unresponsive, despite you trying to initiate a conversation.

With a sigh, you continue eating anyway. The food was getting cold. ‘Johnny will get better soon. This is fine, you can wait. You will wait.’ You think, the words flooding your mind.

~~~~~

Shit. Johnny was gone, where the hell could he possibly be? He never wanders off, even before he got shot! You've been scrambling around the house for a good half an hour now, practically turning it upside down. It was no use, maybe you could find him outside..

Hurriedly, you put on your coat and scurry away into the city in hopes to find Johnny mindlessly going around.

The park, not there. The restaurant you two always used to go to, not there either. Where can he be? You’ve basically toured the whole place! There were swirls of worry forming in your heart, making it beat faster.

You weren't looking at where you were going from how much you were panicking, shock when you collided with what felt like a wall basically. You look up, realizing that it was Simon you bumped into.

This was good! Maybe he saw Johnny, maybe he was with him even! Hope fills inside you, spreading throughout your body.

“Simon! Oh, it's so good to see you–have you seen Johnny? I’ve been looking everywhere for him!” You ask, clearly exhausted judging by the beads of sweat running down your forehead and the way you panted.

But you don't miss the way Simon’s eyebrow raises, eyes peering at you. “What do you mean, love? It's Johnny’s death anniversary today.” He replies, seeing your gaze move from his eyes to the bouquet of flowers in his hands.

You blinked multiple times, waiting for Simon to hopefully say it was a joke. You even make the effort to check your phone that it wasn't April Fools. Trying to speak was impossible as you felt your words get stuck in your throat, it wasn't difficult for Simon to notice.

“Take a deep breath, alright? Take your time.” Simon attempts to soothe, placing a hand on your back and patting it rhythmically.

Once you got a hold of yourself, your voice still shakes as you respond. “Johnny is…what? Are you kidding me right now, Simon? T-this really isn't funny..”

Denial. Simon isn't surprised, he's seen go down before. It's better to approach the situation gently, to not startle you as much.

“I'm not lying, Y/N. I’d never lie about something so sensitive like this, I am telling the truth.” He tells, his voice firm yet reliable. He was going to be your rock, it's the mission Johnny had left for him to do.

“Johnny is gone…” You mumble under your breath, repeating the words as if you were in some sort of twisted trance. But some kind of realization dawns on you, you look up at Simon with eyes widened in horror.

“Who the fuck was I living with this past year?”

And even Simon couldn't answer that.

[27spoons]

Something to Try | Natalie Scatorccio

summary: A college party and some drinks with your best friend! What could possibly go wrong or irrevocably change your relationship?

pairing: natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

based on: pretty girls - reneé rapp

warnings: smut (afab!reader), internalized homophobia (nat), period typical homophobia (if you squint), alcohol consumption, ambiguously queer!reader, angst in my pants

a/n: i have not written smut in YEARS so this is... like... me getting back into it. i apologize in advance 😭🙏

wc: 5020

ao3

Somewhere between Philadelphia and New York City sits a white two-story house in the middle of a nice suburban neighbourhood. Shitty speakers blast terrible dance music through the walls, and you're already wondering why the neighbours haven't called in noise complaints to the county. 

"Well, at least it isn't a frat house this time." You mutter with a scowl, crossing your arms and looking at the scene from the sidewalk.

The girl standing next to you scoffs and shoves her hands in the pocket of her leather jacket, "Y'know, if you're gonna bitch the whole time, you could go back to your dorm…"

"I am not—" You huff and roll your eyes, "I am not going back to the dorms. Let me bitch every now and then."

"You bitch constantly." She returns your eye roll, "There is never a moment in time you are not bitching about something."

You uncross your arms and shove at her shoulder, "You're a prick. Now I'm gonna bitch about you, Natalie. Is that what you wanted?"

"Yes. Because that means you're talking about me, and that feeds my ego." Nat says with a firm nod of her head, unable to hide the dumb grin on her face as she walks with you up to the front door of the house. "So, to clarify, you can only bitch if you're bitching about me."

"One day, I worry your head will explode with how big it's getting." You open the door to the house, and the stench of cheap booze and stale cigarette smoke immediately assaults your senses. "Oh, I lied. This is basically a frat house."

Nat laughs as she steps in behind you, "Nah, this place looks like it has working toilets in all bathrooms. Can't be a frat house." She glances around, eyes searching through the clusters of people scattered around the house. Her face lights up when she apparently finds someone she wants to see, and she turns to face you. "Hey, I'm gonna chat with Kev for a little while, but I'll catch up to you later, yeah?"

You sigh and wave her off, "Yeah, yeah. Just try not to forget I'm here this time."

She gives you an overdramatic gasp, a hand flying over her heart, "How dare you. I would never forget you're here." She's already taking steps back to talk to Kevyn, "You're always my top priority; you should know that by now." She shoots an easy wink at you, then vanishes into the groups of people in the living room.

Well. You really don't know what you were expecting. Nat has a tendency to vanish off to smoke weed or do drugs with a few of her friends, and you don't know why you thought tonight would be any different.

Oh, well. Might as well go see how your friends are doing.

About an hour and three Zimas later, a familiar presence makes herself known by pressing right up against your side. "Told you I wouldn't forget about you." Nat grins to herself, "C'mon. Let's get a drink."

"I'm not done mine—" She's already got your arm in a firm grip and tugging you away from your group of friends. 

"Fine. Then I can get one, and we can go smoke after. Either way, you're coming with me."

"I was in the middle of a conversation…" A whine leaves your throat, but you do nothing to stop her from pulling you to the destination she has in mind. 

"We can start a new conversation with some alcohol. Away from all the people." For all the parties that Natalie attended, you always found it funny how she preferred to stick to the edge, watching from the sidelines. If it wasn't for the fact she was a starter on the soccer team, she'd probably be considered a wallflower. 

Natalie drags you into the kitchen, where the air smells faintly of spilled beer and lime. She lets go of your arm long enough to rummage through the countertop clutter, successfully locating a half-empty bottle of vodka. “Classy,” she mutters, grabbing a plastic cup and pouring herself a generous splash before topping it with soda.

Her eyes flick to you as she takes a sip, leaning casually against the counter. “You’re way too sober to be at a party like this.”

"Mm, trust me, I'm working on it." You raise up the half-empty can you've been nursing for the past fifteen minutes. "You, on the other hand, seem far too eager to get drunk." A sip of your drink, "Like, more eager than usual. And you're already pretty eager to get shitfaced." 

Nat scoffs and rolls her eyes, gesturing with her head for you to follow her. "Yeah, well, we played a good game today. Won by two goals. Maybe I'm celebrating." She quips as her shoulder pushes the backdoor open. 

But… something in her tone feels off. You can't quite place it, but the words sound slightly strained. Maybe it's because you've known her so long, or maybe she's just getting more obvious, but you swear you see a small crack in the mask she so often wears in public.

"Nah, you're being weird tonight." You murmur, eyes narrowing as you appraise her behaviour. "Why are you being weird tonight?"

"I'm not being weird tonight." She scoffs and grabs a crumpled pack of cigarettes from her pocket, "Maybe you're hallucinating. Take any pills tonight?"

You frown, "Natalie."

She sighs and looks away like a child being chastised. "You're so pushy sometimes." She passes you a cigarette, "Jus' thinkin' about things."

"What things?" You lean against the wall beside her and take the smoke with a slight nod of thanks, letting her light the end for you once it's placed between your lips. "Anything I can help with?"

Nat hesitates momentarily as she lights her cigarette, clearly debating if she should actually speak about what's on her mind.

It takes her half of whatever she dumped into her cup, a handful of drags from her cigarette, and more than a few huffs of frustration on her part.

"You're… I mean… you're into chicks, right?"

You pause on the inhale of the smoke, then proceed to cough it out in surprise at the line of questioning. "Jesus—" A few more coughs, you waving the smoke away from your face. "That's what you wanted to ask me?" You shake your head and blink a few times, "Yeah, uh, I thought I told you that I was into chicks, like, ages ago."

"No, uh, you did." She waves her free hand dismissively, "I… sorry. I didn't—" She groans in frustration, "I think it's cool."

"Cool?" You parrot.

"Yeah." She says immediately, "I just… I think it's cool that you're open with yourself about that stuff." Nat brings her thumb to rub at one of her eyebrows, "Just… we don't talk about stuff like that." She shrugs, "Guess I just wanna check in now and then."

Confusion finds its way onto your face, and you shake your head as you try and put the pieces together of why is she asking this stuff right now? "You… you sure that's it?" 

Her facade seems to crumble further as she takes another drag from her cigarette, "Nah, I just…" She glances up at you, "I dunno. If I was gonna, I think you'd be the one I tried."

Your eyes fly open at that comment, because… what???

Your brain short-circuits for a second, trying to process her words. “Wait… what—” You blink and shake your head a few times, trying to pull yourself back together. 

"Don't worry about it." Nat interrupts quickly, "I didn't say anything." She snubs the cigarette out on the wall behind her, no longer meeting your gaze.

"No… no… don't do that." You shake your head and push off the wall, heart pounding so hard you can feel it, "You did say something. You can't just… throw that out there then pretend that you didn't say it."

She finishes the rest of her drink and drops the butt of the cigarette into the empty cup, "God, you're annoying sometimes. Just… forget I said anything, okay?"

"No… I'm not gonna forget you said that. 'cus I know you. You wouldn't just… say something like that." You take a step closer, "So if you're gonna say something, say it."

The blonde seems frustrated at the development in the conversation, and for a moment, you worry she's gonna completely shut things down and pull away, but instead, her expression softens. "I don't know." Looking down at her boots, she murmurs, "I don't know what I'm saying. I just… think about it sometimes. About you."

"Like… me? Specifically?" You shake your head, still in shock at this revelation.

A bitter laugh escapes Nat's mouth, "Don't make me spell it out." Her gaze finally meets yours again, and you swear your breath hitches at the sudden tension between the two of you.

"Natalie…" You start, but before you can say anything else, she's cutting you off and closing the difference between you.

"Shut up." She mutters, and then her lips are on yours—urgent, messy, and laced with the taste of vodka and cigarette smoke.

You freeze at the contact, eyes widening even further. This is not how you expected tonight to play out, and yet… you can't find it in you to pull away.

Despite yourself, you kiss her back, quickly matching her intensity. Her hands find their way to your hair as yours find their way to her waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens.

When she finally pulls back, her breathing is uneven, and her eyes are wide, like she can't believe what she just did. "Shit…" she whispers, running her fingers through your hair.

"What… what the hell was that?" You ask in disbelief, still trying to catch your breath.

"I told you," her trembling voice betraying the smirk tugging at her lips. "If I was gonna… you'd be the one I tried."

You swallow down the sudden lump that's appeared in your throat, "I don't… this…"  You don't even know what you're trying to say, but you're trying to form coherent phrases. "What?"

A beat of silence as her eyes flick from your eyes to your mouth again, "Do you wanna be the one I try?" She asks quietly, continuing to run her fingers through her hair, making you far weaker than you should be. 

"Natalie…" You manage, voice barely above a whisper. She's close now. Too close, really. Close enough that this could complicate everything and—

Her lips are back on yours.

That's enough to shut your thoughts up.

At some point during this exploratory makeout session, some obnoxious douchebag wolf whistles at the two of you making out, to which Nat promptly flips him off and starts pulling you inside the house.

"Come on." Natalie laughs as she tugs you into a spare bedroom, "I need you alone. Without assholes with a God complex interrupting us." She closes and locks the door to the bedroom. When she turns and looks at you, her lower lip is caught between her teeth, and her green eyes have a dangerous glint. 

The second the door is locked, the reality of the situation sets in. Are you really about to do this? Are you really about to… God, what are you even gonna do here? Natalie is looking at you like you're a tall glass of water and she's dying of thirst. Meanwhile, you're looking at her like a damn deer in the headlights. 

"For the record," She adds, "I'm not… this isn't…" She gestures between the two of you, "This is just some fun. Like… you know I'm not gay, right?" 

She doesn't give you a chance to answer that before her lips are on yours, and she's walking you back to the edge of the bed, pushing you down and straddling your waist. "Just to blow off some steam." She murmurs as her lips move to your neck, pressing wet kisses against the soft skin.

If you had half a mind right now, you'd probably say something like, "Straight chicks don't willingly do stuff like this with other chicks," or "I see multiple issues with that logic," but it's hard to form replies when her tongue is tracing along your pulse point, and her lips are oh so warm against your skin.

You vaguely think about all the times you've thought about this happening—but that's just it. They were just supposed to be thoughts. You never actually expected to end up in bed with Natalie—let alone her being the one to initiate it—but here you are, all the same.

"Nat—" You finally manage once you remember you need to breathe, "You—"

She pulls back briefly to tug her shirt over her head, and all rational thought vanishes out the window (along with the last shreds of the restraint you had—if you even had any, to begin with), and she moves her hands to tug off your shirt, which you eagerly help her remove.

"I'm so happy you came to the party." She whispers in awe as her hands trail up and down your torso in appreciation, "God…" Her hand stops to cup your breast, and you find yourself arching into her chest subconsciously. 

She looks down at you like you're an experiment—which you are, really—or something to decipher and explore. But, honestly? You're sorta willing to be her experiment right now, even if a part of you knows this will hurt the both of you come morning.

"I wasn't gonna come, you know?" You murmur back, letting her map out your body under her surprisingly careful fingers, "I just… didn't see the point."

"That's your issue, yeah?" Nat replies back just as quietly, "You always think too much rather than just doing. Life is so much more fun when you stop overthinking everything." She brushes her thumb over your clothed nipple, which causes you to let out a small gasp, "And sometimes you talk too much when you should be doing other things. Like this." Her hand leaves your chest and joins her other one behind her back, unclasping her bra and letting it fall down her shoulders.

"Oh, fuck." It's your turn to be awestruck now. "God, you're so…" Your hands trail up her body, running up her sides, her head falling back and a sigh spilling from her lips. "Fucking beautiful. So fucking beautiful." You stop to cup the underside of her breasts, earning a sound of approval from the girl on top of you as she begins to roll her hips against yours slowly.

"Yeah…" Nat breathes out, "Little higher…" She grabs your wrists and moves your hands on your behalf, placing them directly overtop her breasts, "Don't be afraid to touch me, not fragile…"

"Wasn't afraid," You reply as you squeeze gently, "was just trying to take my time. Not rush the good stuff."

She scoffs out a laugh, "Maybe I want you to rush to the good stuff; think of that?"

"Nah, that's no fun. Foreplay is half the excitement. Gotta build tension."

"Tension's been building all night." She rasps with a roll of her hips, "So don't give me that bullshit."

"Fine. Maybe I just want to take my time. Think of that?" You roll a nipple between your thumb and pointer, grinning to yourself at the way she gasps and her hips stutter at the sensation. "I like to play with my food before I eat it."

A low chuckle spills from deep in Nat's chest at your last comment, "Jesus, you're terrible. Has your dirty talk always been this bad?"

"Yep." You respond immediately, "Just another thing I'm skilled at, really."

"Really?" She looks down at you, an assumed smirk on her face. "What other things could you possibly be skilled at?"

You grin right back at her. That was exactly the reply you wanted. And she says your dirty talk is terrible. You're just always five steps ahead, really. 

"If you'd let me show you, I've been told my fingers and tongue are pretty talented." You grin wider when she blushes despite herself, "And, honestly? I kinda wanna show you."

Nat scoffs to hide how flustered she is at your teasing, "W-what? Is this the part where you tell me that I've been "missing out," too?"

"Oh, I wasn't gonna say anything. You were the one that did that."

A beat. 

You laugh.

"Oh my God. Shut up." And her lips are back on yours before you can protest—not that you would want to, anyways—and you're kissing her back in a heartbeat, her hands leaving your wrists to rest on your collarbones, thumbs tracing the lines of your bra strap.

Your hands find their way to Nat's hips, squeezing the soft flesh there and encouraging their movement as her tongue slides its way into your mouth.

Things move fast after that. You aren't quite sure when she manages to take your bra off, and she isn't quite sure when you managed to get her pants off, but before either of you can think about how fast things are moving, you're both making out in nothing but your underwear.

For one of the first times in your life, you're realising that you're the more experienced one when it comes to this sort of thing. Nat's never been with a girl before, giving you the upper hand. 

Something you fully plan on exploiting. 

You end up shifted so that she's laying flat on the bed under you while you're propped up on an elbow next to her, using your free arm to run your hand down her body as the two of you continue this heated makeout session you've been in for the past… however long you've been in this room.

When your fingers begin to tease the edge of her panties, Nat gasps and deepens the kiss further, with one of her hands curling around the nape of your neck as the other comes to rest on your shoulder. Which, well, seems like consent if you've ever been given any.

You let your fingers trail under the waistband and lower still, grinning into the kiss when you feel her push herself into your hand despite the fact you haven't even touched her yet. 

"Don't be a tease." Nat whines into the kiss, earning a low laugh from you.

"Not teasing. Just taking my time, is all." You properly brush your fingers against her, delving into the warmth but never quite going where she wants you to.

"No, you're being a fucking tease!" She whines again, more petulantly, her nails digging into your shoulder.

You click your tongue at that, "And you're a lot needier than I thought you'd be, Scatorccio. Can't spend five minutes doing some foreplay?"

"What I want to do is spend my time—" You cut her off when your fingers brush against her clit, a feral grin spreading across your features. 

"You were saying something, Nat?"

"Oh my God. Shut up." She repeats for the second time tonight, pulling you in for another kiss, using the hand on the nape of your neck to aid in her agenda. 

After you decide you've teased her clit for a suitable amount of time, you slide your middle and ring finger down the length of her wetness, then proceed to tease her entrance in slow circles. Nat bites on your lower lip in retaliation for what she still deems as "teasing," but is quick enough to soothe the bite with her tongue.

"You know," You murmur as you break the kiss, pulling back to watch her face, "I think you're gonna enjoy this."

She scoffs, "Yeah, that's sorta the point, dipshit."

"Mm, not what I meant." You sink those two fingers inside of her, enjoying the way her breath catches, and she arches into your touch. "I think you're gonna really enjoy this."

"You've got a big head." She starts rocking her hips against your hand, the motion causing the heel of your palm to rub against her, "You gonna… gonna… back that up?"

"I think I already am, honestly." You murmur back as you begin to move your fingers, "Did you even notice you were humping my hand?" Based on how her hips stutter for the slightest moment, the answer was probably no.

"Is all you do tease?"

You laugh at that, slowly figuring out what she likes based on her reactions to what you do, "Mhm. It's my favourite part of this." You pull your fingers back just as she seems to be really getting into it, which earns you a confused whine, but you don't give her long to worry about it.

You start at her lips, then slowly work your mouth down her body. Admittedly, you spend a little longer than needed lingering in the valley between her breasts, but who can really blame you? They're nice, and you've spent far too long wondering what it would be like to be between them.

You continue moving south once Natalie lets out a frustrated huff and pushes at your shoulders slightly, your lips pausing just under her belly button, glancing up at her for one last okay before you go this far.

She gives you her approval in the form of a slight nod, and you immediately hook your fingers in the waistband of her panties and tug them down once you have it.

You trail your mouth up her leg, starting from her ankle and moving upwards, only slowing down once you reach her thighs.

"Such a fucking tease…" Nat mumbles to herself when you slow down, so you nip her thigh in some form of retaliation at her impatience. 

"Good things come to those who wait." And you tease her longer, purposefully avoiding her aching center just to prove your point.

When she starts tugging at your hair in frustration, you finally relent, flattening your tongue and dragging it through her folds once, then twice, then pull back for a moment to look at her. 

"Goddamn." You murmur, "We're gonna have fun." You press a chaste kiss to her clit, then immediately dive in, nuzzling your nose against it as your tongue presses in. 

Truthfully, you've always liked it a little messy. You don't think Nat minds in the slightest. In fact, one might even say that she prefers it when it's sloppy.

Pornographic slurping sounds fill the small bedroom, coupled with the sharp inhales Nat takes every time you do something she really likes, and you decide you really like those sounds, making it your sole mission to have her make as many of them as possible.

When you move your mouth up to attach to her clit, you replace your tongue with two fingers, delving them back into the warm heat of her pussy. You hum in appreciation at the gasp she makes as you work your fingers in tandem with your mouth.

Nat, you've noticed, isn't very vocal. That's fine; she doesn't need to be. Not when her hips keep rocking against your face. Not when her eyes are shut, and her face is contorted in an expression of pleasure. Not when one of her hands is trembling atop her mouth in a poor attempt to stifle those small sounds. 

You pick up on what she likes really quickly, trying to keep your eyes trained on her face as long as possible. Knowing that you're the one making her look like that. You really didn't need the ego boost, but you'll take it anyway.

She lets you know she's about to come with her hand moving from your hair to smack your shoulder a few times, a shaky "F-fuck—" spilling from her lips and her back arching off the mattress. You double down on your actions to get her there, and when her thighs clamp down on either side of your head, you let yourself grin.

Natalie isn't one to give herself time to wind down, however.

Once she finishes riding out her climax, she's immediately tugging you up to mash her lips against yours, rolling you over so you're lying on your back instead of her.

"Mm, wait—" You push her shoulder back when one of her hands goes to trail down your body, "You don't have to… I don't need you to "repay the favour"—"

"I want to." Nat cuts you off, pressing her lips against your neck and working her way down your body. "And, for the record?" She pauses and looks up at you when she reaches your collarbone, "I'm a fast learner." She grins and continues moving her mouth lower, fingers hooking in the waistband of your underwear.

"Fast learner." You huff out as you lift your hips for her, allowing her to tug your panties down your legs and discard them somewhere off to the side. 

"Yeah," She agrees as she sits back on her knees, "Real fast learner, actually. And I doubt it's that much different than going down on a guy." A beat, "Who knows? Maybe I'll learn something that could be useful in my… future endeavours." 

You bristle slightly at the comment, an uneasy feeling gripping the back of your neck for a reason you can't quite place. "Nat—" And, much like you were doing to her, she cuts you off by attaching her lips straight to your clit, causing you to gasp in shock at the sudden sensation. "F-fuck!" You hiss out. While it's not a bad sensation—far from it— it is unexpected and bypassing any and all forms of teasing. 

Nat seems to delight in the sounds you're making and continues her exploration of your pussy. She pays eager attention to your clit at the beginning before realising that she should probably attend to other areas as well, and promptly doing just that.

And, hey, she was right. She is a fast learner. And an eager one, at that.

Her fingers dig into the meat of your thighs with bruising strength, forcing them open and refusing to let you budge from her hold even slightly. And, in true Natalie fashion, she's just as messy about it as you were, never one to be outdone. 

However, unlike you, she doesn't seem content to spend the whole time going down on you. She pulls back and pushes her hair out of her face, "God, I wanna try something—" She moves to straddle one of your thighs and presses her own up against your center, hands coming to rest on your shoulders.

"Shit," You murmur as your hands find purchase on her hips, "You sure you haven't been with a chick before? You sure seem to know what you're doing…"

"What can I say? I've done some research here and there." She lets out a low laugh that turns into a breathless sort of moan as her hips roll against your thigh, pushing her thigh further against you in turn. 

"Holy fuck, you're so fucking wet," Nat says in astonishment, her head falling forward as you begin rocking against her thigh. "Goddamn…"

"Yeah, you're not any better." You reply breathlessly, "Gonna fuckin' make a mess on my thigh…"

She rakes her nails down your chest and lets out a noise you're pretty sure is supposed to be a growl, "That's the idea. Already made a mess of your face, might as well ruin another part of you." And her lips are back on yours before you can come up with some sort of retort.

You two move against each other with urgency, breaking the kiss to rest your foreheads together as you breathe heavily. 

Natalie digs her nails into your waist, lips attaching to your neck again as she continues to rock her hips against your thigh. 

It's a mess of animalistic grunts and X-rated gasps that fill your ears. The noises, combined with her lips on your neck and the way she's oh so desperately moving against your thigh? You can't help yourself. It might be one of the hottest things you've ever witnessed. 

The woman on top of you comes first with a sharp gasp followed by a low groan. Then, upon realising you still haven't, her fingers replace her thigh, moving with intention.

"Fuck—" You arch up into her hand, "Shit, you don't have to—"

"Shut up." She whispers against your skin, "Let me make you feel good."

And, well, who are you to say no to the girl with her hand between your thighs?

By the end of the evening, you're more relaxed than you've been in a long time. Nat is lying loosely on the bed beside you, her hand playing with your fingers. 

"Weren't lying." She murmurs after a long silence between you two, seemingly lost in thought.

"Not lying about what?" You prop yourself up on an elbow, looking down at her as she sighs quietly.

"Really enjoying this." Her voice comes out soft, and it almost appears that even she seems surprised at the words. "I just… I don't know. It was fun."

You smile to yourself at that and squeeze her hand, "Yeah." Despite the haze of lust and alcohol that clouds your mind, at least, that is something you can agree to.

Morning.

The first thing you notice? You have a killer headache.

The second thing? This isn't your bed.

The third thing? You're alone in this bed.

Last night crashes over you in waves. Images of Natalies flushed face underneath you. The way she seemed almost eager to be with you in that way.

The sheets still smell faintly of her—a mix of smoke and something warm, something hers. You reach out instinctively, fingers brushing the cool, empty space beside you. She’s gone. Of course, she’s gone. You should’ve known better.

Last night replays in your mind: the way her hands gripped your shoulders, her voice a low whisper against your skin. You could’ve sworn, for just a moment, she wanted you. Needed you. But maybe that was just the vodka.

Maybe it was just the vodka.

a/n: this is so much longer than I thought it would be and yet not long enough

tragic

[dollzites]

⏦ﾟ♡︎ “WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW WHY?”

୨ৎ pairing: boyfriend!seunghyun x fem reader

୨ৎ genre: fluff! so fluff.. so cute :(

୨ৎ from myeong: hello! this is such a cute request and I’m so excited to share this with you! I hope you can enjoy it x

the familiar feeling of a warm and soft hand grabbed ahold of your own and your eyes opened immediately, turning to look over at your boyfriend seunghyun who had been smiling at you. “we’re here, my love.” his deep voice always sent shivers down your spine. always? well, you two haven’t been a couple for too long and this was only the third date but since knowing him and spending the time you already did with him, his voice was music to your eyes and you wanted to continue hearing it until the end of your days. giving him a small nod you fix your hair and outfit making sure everything looked good before opening the door and stepping out of the car. the museum he wanted to take you too was a few hours away from the city you both lived in and though you didn’t mind the drive at all, your feet were killing you. “isn’t this so exciting? I’m sorry about the drive sweetheart.. I hope you’ll be okay to walk around with me. if not I can give you my shoes or we can find a store nearby and I’ll buy you a new pair, hm?” that was exactly how seunghyun was, a sweet gentleman. many thought of him as weird or different but you didn’t see it. you saw him as kind, caring, funny, and so loving. he did a fantastic job at showing such a good side of himself that others weren’t exposed too. you were special that’s why you got to see this side of him.

as you both walk through the large glass doors hand in hand he pulls you closer to wrap an arm around your waist and starts pointing with his other hand, showing you a piece that he was a huge fan of. what he didn’t know is that you didn’t.. how should you say this? particularly care about art and the culture of it all. it was something that didn’t ever cross your mind and even though you were a fan of painting rocks or marbles to make them pop, it was nothing like what was here at the museum. your lips curled up into a gentle smile as you nodded and listened to him speak about the painting that was now in front of you both. “this one here? it’s a newer piece that I have become familiar with.. it’s called solitude and would you like to know why?” seunghyun didn’t give you a chance to answer but you were fine with it anyway and gave a slight head nod for him to continue, “this painting here serves as a mirror, reflecting our own experiences and emotions back at us. it’s reminding us that solitude is not a burden to bear but a canvas upon which we can paint our own narratives, find solace, and discover the depth of our own souls.” you stared at him in complete awe of everything he had just said. both hands found his and gave them a slight squeeze while you turned to take another look at the beautiful painting.

as the both of you continued to walk around he found a bench in front of another painting and gently pulled you to sit down next to him. “I don’t get it seunghyun. I don’t get art and just.. everything about it. what you had told me about the last art piece was beautiful but it seems they’re all so similar in that way.” he wasn’t upset with what you said because he knows not everything he likes you’ll like but he looks at you in shock, “y/n, my love, I know we’ll have different opinions on each subject but the beauty of art is through the deep meanings and how the artist creates them.” seunghyun paused for a moment and turned to look at you with a playful and cute smile across his soft lips that you wanted to kiss so badly but held yourself back for the obvious reasons. “focus on connecting deeply with your subject matter, exploring personal experiences and emotions. utilizing strong composition techniques and.. well considering color symbolism! it’s so important. you have to constantly refine your skills through practice and exploration while also being quite mindful of the message you want to convey to the viewer.” a warm tear rolled down your cheek and you felt like such a idiot for getting so emotional over something like this. his way of words and talking about art was so beautiful to you and all you could do was hope that this would be an everyday thing in the future for you both. his large warm hand reached up to wipe the tear away and he leaned in right after letting his lips meet yours in a sweet kiss before pulling away and turning to look back at the painting in front of you.

“another beautiful painting. I think this one.. fits the both of us quite well, what do you think?” as you stare deeply at the painting from what you could see it was a couple or what seemed to be a couple and all you could do was nod, letting your head rest against his shoulder. “I think it’s beautiful seunghyun, just like you are. thank you for bringing me here even if I don’t understand the art or the process of it all. you’ve shown me a different side of it and I respect that.” a deep chuckle comes from his throat and he kisses the top of your head while pulling you closer to him as he continues to stare at the beautiful painting in front of him. what he was thinking? how lucky he was to have you and art in his life. he wouldn’t ask for anything else.

[peppermintquartz]

Just-out-of-army Tommy is on his way home going down a street on Halloween when he sees a bunch of people in monster makeup going into a bar named Caritas.

He ventures down a flight of steps to get inside and wow, that's a lot of people in full monster makeup but there are regular people too, there's karaoke and right now there's someone who is green with red horns singing beautifully on stage.

He can feel the voice from the top of his skull right down to his toes.

The singer finishes and bows to the applause, saying, "Alrighty, mic is all warmed up, please come up for a song and then pop by the bar if you wanna chat."

As the singer walks over, he spies Tommy lurking near the entryway. "Well hello, tall dark and handsome. Come over. First timer gets a discount at the bar."

"Oh, uh, how didja know I'm new?"

The singer raises an eyebrow. "Timo, peach Bellini."

"Oh, no, thanks, I'm more of a beer guy."

"That's for me, sugar crumb. We have a nice selection of craft beers. Light, dark?"

"Oh, thank you. Light, please." Tommy peers closely. "Wow, your makeup person is amazing. The prosthetics and the body paint must take hours. And do those contact lenses hurt?"

The singer grins, showing very white teeth. "Not as much as you might think."

"Here, boss. And this is yours, pretty boy."

"Timo, be nice," the singer chides. "Oh, right. I forgot to introduce myself. My name's Lorne and I'm the owner of this joint. Come by anytime to sing, cupcake, and bare your soul. I do psychic readings also. Very accurate, if I do say so myself."

Lorne's attention is pulled away by someone wearing dark brown feathery wings. Left to his own devices, Tommy takes a seat at the bar and people watch, occasionally humming a line or two.

He's singing under his breath to Jolene when Lorne returns to him after doing a circuit around the room, Bellini already half empty.

"Sing for me again, mon crème brulée."

A little embarrassed, Tommy sings the few lines.

Lorne sighs and pats Tommy's arm. And then he seems to get a bit distracted, squeezing the muscle slightly. "Ooh, big and strong. I am weak for your type. Not hitting on you, by the way. I just enjoy the general vibe of beefy guys."

"Uh... thanks?"

"Being a firefighter is a good choice, but be aware that you have some moral choices to make in difficult situations," Lorne says, leaning against the bar. "However, it will be worth it. You're not a man meant for the shadows, Tommy."

Tommy feels like shrinking into himself. "I... I don't know about that."

"Now now, none of that." Lorne pats Tommy's cheek. He sighs and raises his eyebrows. "Poor kid. I know it's not easy to be yourself. And it will take a lot of courage and self-acceptance before you stop flinching from the light. I can't give you any of that. But if you ever feel like you can't bear it anymore, come here. I guaran-damn-tee you that you can be a hundred percent who you are here." He winks at Tommy. "Because I'll know."

"Um, thanks?" Tommy wishes he is half as confident as Lorne seems to be, but he doesn't know how to even start. "I... I'd probably need a lot of help."

"That's true. For you, however, drop by anytime. I live above the bar and I will always make time for a classic Hollywood hunk of handsome." Lorne finishes his Bellini and presses a kiss to Tommy's cheek. "Alright. Let's get ready for Uncle Lorne's second set."

[the-lazyyy-artist]

too busy being yours isagi yoichi x fem!reader

Synopsis: if you asked him if he regrets losing you, he'd answer it a little too late.

Tags and Theme: angst, drabble, based on Hozier's cover of Do I Wanna Know, yearning, regret, Isagi being not so good at relationships

Author's Notes: welcome to the angsty story born from Hozier's soft and wonderful cover of a slightly toxic and bitter song by Arctic Monkeys. I hope you enjoy. As always, reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated!

Photo cap from Jules et Jim (1962)

If you ask him what breathing is like, he'll tell you it's the first time he met her.

Because right now, he felt like he hadn't been breathing until he saw a glimpse of you, a year after losing you. He didn't expect to see you in the crowd, smiling at him when your eyes met for the first time in a long time. He thought he'd never see you again.

Your damn smile takes him back to the days when you two were still happy until you weren't.

It was a little too late for him to realize it. You were out the door, and he was a mess. As much as Isagi Yoichi was the most reliable, perceptive, and adaptable person on the field, crushing opponents with his tremendous skill and vision, he never brought those characteristics to a relationship. He was always a day late to an anniversary, an hour late for a restaurant reservation, a thought late before he spoke, and a step short of keeping you from leaving.

He always knew you were the one. You were so supportive of him, understanding, always there to listen when he recalled his games even if you saw the whole thing on the field, and so loving. He always thought you'd never run out of love with how you took care of him, lifted him when he overthought, held him as you sang him praises after every game, or even just did something as simple as opening a jar for you.

His heart always yearned for you after you left, just a phone call away from pouring his heart out after a tiring day, always just a text message away from asking where you were, always just there, so close. How could he lose you? You were the only one that held him together when the sport he's passionate about tore him apart as he moved to improve. How could he be so blind to how unhappy you were back then?

And now, here you were, smiling and singing praises again. He missed you so much that he held you, still sweaty and breathless from the game, asking you if you saw his goal and if you enjoyed the game, to which you answered yes. He wanted to ask if you missed him. He wanted to ask if he could try again with you. He wanted you back so bad. So when you pulled away, you smiled at him and said, "Isagi, this will be the last time you'll ever see me. I'm moving away."

"Goodbye, and I still love you... but that doesn't mean I want to try again."

And as always, he was too late as Isagi watched you walk out of the stadium and out of his life once again.

[badbihsemiluvr]

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🖤་༘࿐ blame it on the alcohol 🥂𝜗𝜚 ݁₊ .

semi (player 380) x fem reader

cw: alcohol, f!ngering, SUB SEMI (we need more sub semi in our lives), a bit of degrading

summary; your cold gf, semi has always had a soft spot for you. she treated you like her princess, you were always the submissive one. but that was about to be changed after a long night of drinking.

author note: hey guys here’s a quick semi smut for you horny little lesbians, pls ignore any spelling or grammar errors i wrote this in like a hour. intentional lowercase!!

it was a hot summer night, you had just came back from a night out with friends. You walk through the front door, stumbling a bit. (you got a bit tipsy while out) semi eyes lock onto your every move as soon as you walk through the door.

semi quickly gets up to help you. semi grabs your hips, guiding you into the bedroom. she sits you down on the bed, cupping your face saying “have you been drinking, love?” you look her up and down and slur “so what if I have, i. had one drink.” semi knows that’s not true. she walks into the kitchen to get you some water, so you can sober up.

you stare at every inch of semis body as she exists the room. passion takes over your body and you take your clothes off, leaving you in an only a lacy black bra and panties. you lay back down on the bed, and semi walks back in. she looks at you laid out on the bed, half naked. she can’t help but lick her lips at the slight of you. “now what do we have here?” She says, her tone lowering. “baby why are you getting naked? you are so drunk.” you grab semis face and slur “because you’re so prettyyyy.” she blushes and smirks at your drunken remarks. “thank you baby, but you seriously need your sleep.” she says with a serious tone in her voice.

you pull her on top of you and start passionately making out with her. she pulls back and says “fine, i guess.” she moves down your neck, leaving small love marks. You moan at the touch of her soft lips and cold piercing against your skin. she pulls away and looks you in the eyes for a split second. as you take in all her beauty, you get the sudden urge to get on top. you change positions, switching semi to be under you. “two can play at this game” you say with the biggest smirk across you face.

your eyes laced with lust and admiration of semis beauty. semi exhibits a confused look on her face, at the sudden change of position. your hands slither all over her body, getting her hotter by the minute. semi squirms at your touch, you start sucking the sensitive skin on her neck and breasts. feeling her squirm at your touch, turned you on. you make your way down her body, slowly teasing her. “baby- p-please.” semi says as you fiddle with her belt buckle. “please what?” “use your words, pretty girl.” you say. she says in a low but needy tone “please finger me.” you nod as you take her pants and boxers off. staring down at her now, fully naked body in awe. god how did i get this lucky?

you dive in between semis legs already spread open for you, you trace your fingers over her throbbing cunt. “so pretty” you mutter. semi is already a waterfall for you. You trace circles over her thighs, and her cl!t. she squirms at your motions, clearly enjoying this. “i’m gonna need you to stop squirming baby, or this isn’t happening.” you say in a demanding tone. semi nods and bites her lip ring. your fingers slowly enter her, you press your lips passionately against hers to help her adjust to the feeling of you inside her.

you start thrusting your fingers in and out of her, slowly. her hips buck up against your body with every motion. you pull away from the kiss, so you can admire semis pretty face while you’re pleasuring her. “you like that? who knew you were such a slut for me” you say. semi nods her head aggressively and grabs your waist, pressing your body towards her. She lowly whispers in your ear “f-faster baby, i can’t stand this teasing” her lip piercing grazing over your ear.

you speed up your movements, and semi immediately moans “ugh just like that babydoll.” god, she was so hot. a mess for you. your free hand guides her hips, up and down with the rhythm of your fingers. “i’m so close” she moans loudly. wet sounds of you f!ngering her wet cunt fill the room, sounds like you are filming a p0rno. You feel semi’s body start shaking, you put your free hand and lightly apply pressure to her lower stomach, so she can really feel every movement. and with that, semi moans out loudly as she releases all over your fingers. You continue your motion, slowing down to help her ride out her pleasure. you slowly pull out of her, and lick your fingers seductively.

semi stares at you, exhausted from everything that just happened. she says, “where’d you learn all that?” with a smirk. you reply “only from the best.” shortly, falling down on the bed falling asleep from being so tipsy and energetic. semi brushes the messy hair out of your face while you lay asleep beside her. she whispers sweet nothing into your sleeping ear and falls asleep.

[rederiswrites]

Conversations with Lace

[now up on AO3]

“So you’re gonna go with ‘Rook’, huh?” Lace said it through a mouthful of brown bread and cheese.

“Sure.” Arden scooped another glob of polishing compound up and started buffing out the wing of his knee armor. There was a dent he’d need to have seen next time they were in a big town. The smell of linseed oil and tallow was familiar and grounding.

“You don’t have to. Varric gives everyone nicknames. You can ignore it.”

“No, I uh…I like it.” He scowled down at his work. “Kaffas. This strap is going to break, soon. I think I’m out of replacements.”

“Fine then. Rook.” Lace grinned.

They sat for a minute in companionable silence, Lace finishing her roll, Arden rubbing the polishing cloth in practiced circles over his armor. They’d gotten close quickly over the last couple months, and not just because they were together nearly every day. Both had open, friendly natures, and as they crisscrossed northern Thedas, they’d whiled away the leagues in talk and laughter. 

They’d been staggering drunk together in Starkhaven, crawling from bar to bar while Varric took care of business in the palace, and surprised the shit out of would-be muggers. They’d hung upside down in snares together for two hours once after an encounter with one of Solas’s agents. They’d pretended to be Carta thugs for a few days once, while Varric tried to wheedle information out of a provincial Altus landowner, and mocked each other’s acting for weeks. 

“Never had a nickname before,” Arden said abruptly.

“What, never? Really?”

“I mean, basic name-calling stuff from the other boys as a kid, but I don’t think that’s the same idea.”

Lace looked surprised. “Your parents didn’t call you something? Like my ma calls me Sweet Pea, that sort of thing?”

“Nope. Just Arden. Young Master Mercar or Arden Maximus if I was about to be in trouble.”

“Wait. Your middle name is Maximus?” A positively evil grin was starting to spread across Lace’s freckled face.

Arden rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, go ahead. I’m well aware it’s incredibly pretentious.”

“Maximus!” By now she was giggling madly.

“Welcome to my childhood.”

“Maker!” Lace giggled at Arden’s disapproving look. “Alright, then, I’ll use Rook. Maximus.”

….

“Do you think they’re real fish?” Arden asked.

They stood side by side, staring into the fish tank. It was beautiful, but Arden found it unsettling. The glass and water distorted the light and made distances strange, but Arden couldn’t decide if he could see a back wall to the tank.

“I mean, I don’t know, but that one’s a Calenhad sunfish. I’ve caught plenty of them. Stupid little wastes of bait.”

“Yeah but what I mean is, is it a real Calenhad sunfish or whatever, or just…I don’t know, like a magic picture of one?”

“No idea. This place is weird.”

“I mean,” Arden went on, “if they’re real, what do they eat? There’s not even a place to put food in.”

Lace glanced up at the corners of the room. “Huh. You’re right. Maybe they’re real, but they live on magic. I dunno.” She left Arden scowling at the fish, and left to poke around the rest of the room. “You thinking of setting up your stuff in here?”

“What? No! Why would I do that?” Arden sounded startled.

“I thought maybe the fish would remind you of the coast.”

“Yeah, a nice seaside vacation at Marnus Pell inside a fish tank. No, I’ll find a nice little room with no windows and no weirdly endless fish tanks and pretend I’m somewhere normal.”

Lace shrugged. “Suit yourself. I like the old sunroom or whatever it was. The dirt makes me feel better.”

Arden grunted an acknowledgement, still frowning at the darting fish.

….

The grinding of stone shifting against stone was deafening for a few seconds. As the last echoes died away, Arden and Lace grinned at each other.

“I did it, Rook!”

“Maferath’s ass, that’s amazing.”

“What about that one? Can you move that one? If it was just a little taller, we could skip up to the next turn of the path.”

Lace concentrated for a second.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “Doesn’t feel right.” Arden gave her a quizzical look. “Don’t ask me to explain. I don’t know. There’s just…a feeling. Like some stone talks to me and some is just…stone, I guess.”

Arden shrugged. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Give me a second,” Lace said. She moved slowly along the base of the hill, eyes narrowed in concentration. Arden trotted after her, keeping an eye on the woods. Nowhere was completely safe in Arlathan, in his experience.

“Wait! Here!” Lace held out her hands and scowled fiercely, and just ahead of them, a series of rocks rumbled and groaned into motion. When they finally stopped, there was a rough giant’s staircase up to the next turning of the path. “I did it!”

“Fuck yes you did!” Arden’s smile crinkled his eyes up and pulled in the scar on his cheek. “That’s amazing, Lace!” He put out an elbow, leaning on her head in what had become a habitual gesture of teasing affection. “Oh! Uh–” Arden let out something between a whoop and a yelp and staggered sideways.

Lace reached for him, grabbing his arm before he could fall. 

“Nope–whup!” Arden listed a couple steps forward, then barely caught himself before falling backwards. “I don’t–” His eyes rolled up in his head, and he keeled over. Spongy wood chips and rollie pollies scattered in a tiny explosion where his head hit a rotten log.

“Rook! Maker’s breath, Rook!” Lace rushed to kneel next to him, grabbing his shoulder. This time, though, she saw the ghostly lines of blue spreading from her hands. She jerked them back as if burned, scrambling away from Arden on hands and knees. “Maker’s breath!”

“Fine! I’m…fine,” Arden said, very unconvincingly. “Hoooo…gimme…second…” On the third try, he managed to roll up on an elbow. “Kaffas. Vishante kaffas.”

“Lyrium! It’s like I’m infused with lyrium! Oh, Maker, he’s lyrium addled. What if it’s permanent! What have I done?”

“Noo I’m betting. Bettering. Getting…better. Getting better! See?” Arden managed to push himself up until he was sitting. “Vishante kaffas,” he repeated, cradling his head in his hands. “‘S like I’m drunk.”

“Sweet Andraste, you scared the shit out of me,” Lace breathed, clutching the ground at her knees.

Arden snorted. “Pretty funny, though.”

“No, it is not! I could have really hurt you! Lyrium is dangerous, Rook!”

“Come on. Li’l bit funny. Ass over teakettle…lookit–lookit these poor bugs.” He gestured to the scattering of spongy orange wood and insects around him. “Like a Titan. Fall on their city–boom!” Arden giggled, ending on a loud snort.

“How in Thedas am I going to get you home?” Lace moaned. “Can’t even touch you. Andraste, give me strength.” She sat back, resigned to waiting it out. 

Arden’s head lolled to the side, and he snapped it back upright, wheezing with quiet laughter.

….

“You’re staring,” Lace said quietly.

Arden turned his head away from the other corner of the great hall, where Lucanis was cooking, to look down at her. “I’m not allowed? He’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah? Bellara’s gorgeous. Neve’s gorgeous. I know you like girls, too.”

“Sure. You’re gorgeous. What’s your point?”

“My point is–wait, I’m–oh gosh, no, I’m not–nope! Nope, I’m not letting you distract me like that! My point is that you’re staring at him specifically. Not just because he’s gorgeous.”

“Maybe so.” Arden returned his attention to Lucanis, who was busy chopping vegetables with hypnotic skill.

“Rook, he’s possessed! He’s a possessed assassin!”

“I know. And he’s mourning his grandmother, or at least I’m pretty sure he is. You kind of have to guess, with him. And he’s just been imprisoned and tortured for a year, and now he’s living in our pantry like a rat terrier. And also I’m kind of his boss? Or his employer. That isn’t actually paying him.” Arden pulled a wry face. “Don’t worry. I’m just enjoying looking.”

“I’m not convinced,” Lace said. “Plus, he’s looking, too.”

“He–” Arden sat up suddenly, banging his shin against the little table between them. “Kaffas!” He grabbed his leg, rubbing vigorously. “He’s looking?”

Lace sighed. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you should say more. Really?”

“Mmmmm. Yes, he’s looking at you, sometimes. Why do you care, hmm? I thought you were just enjoying the aesthetics?”

“Alright. There might be a little, tiny crush.”

“I knew it!”

Lucanis glanced over at Lace’s outburst, and she waved him away, smiling unconvincingly. He watched them for a moment longer before turning back to his cooking.

“I knew it,” she hissed again, quieter this time. “Rook, you can’t seriously be thinking of…of whatever.”

“No, I know. I know, Lace. That’s why I’m just looking.”

[fandom-lover2]

Hope To Stay A While, Just Till The Rain Stops

Chapter Four - Pajama Parties Are More Fun When You're Invited

Word Count - 1865

-image not mine-

Chapter Three - This Is Why We Don't Have Knives At The Table

My eyes snapped open, my body jolting as something let off a loud bang.

What the hell was happening?

Then, it sounded like thunder, or something some form of stomping at least. And voices, angry voices. Loud, angry voices.

I rolled over, squinting at my digital clock on my desk.

2.05 am glared back at me in red.

I rolled over again, trying to get comfortable on my preferred side of sleeping.

Thunder again, and the voices were louder this time. Why was I cursed to live in a house of only men?

Screw this shit. I had an exam tomorrow.

Yanking my sheet off myself, I slipped out of bed and stormed to my bedroom door, yanking it open and marching towards the voices.

After Bruce had, without my consent, enrolled me into Gotham Academy, the pressure was on. Even under the guise of a visiting relative of Alfred’s, because I refused to be involved in the Gotham elite society, the expectation to achieve perfect grades and be involved in rich people sports was one I had to shoulder.

Etiquette Monday and Thursday, tennis on Tuesday, horse riding on Wednesday and Friday, archery Saturday. And I still needed to study, do homework and assignments, and attend parties to keep up appearances.

I was running on fumes and about 5 seconds away from running back to Central City. Now, I had to deal with this?!

Oh no. No no no no. I was getting another 4 hours of sleep, if I had to kill whoever the hell was screaming to get it.

The voices were getting louder and louder as I headed to the main floor, the kitchen specifically.

An odd place for a domestic screaming match but hey, this family was fucking weird.

I’m 80% sure Tim died last week, his combination of Red Bull and black coffee that he chugged in 30 seconds flat no doubt doing some damage.

Not to mention Damian, who was literally a little psychopath. I walked in on him waving around a sword last week. And not a fencing sword, a real ass Japanese sword.

Jason was never around, other than to sneak into the library or have screaming matches with Bruce when he was caught. He always looked like he was in deep physical pain, and avoided me like I had some disease. He would literally walk out of a room if I entered it.

And Dick, dude was just a mess. He was crying about an elephant the other day, and last month did a whole circus trapeze routine in the living room, using the chandelier.

And Bruce doesn’t even blink at any of it! He and Alfred act like this is normal!

Well, I was over this family thinking they were a functional system. It ended today, with a good night’s sleep.

If I wasn’t so fueled by the rage, the volume at which Bruce and Jason were yelling would have probably stopped me from entering the kitchen, but I was seeing red and nearing sleep deprivation.

“Can you all shut the fuck up!” I rounded the corner into the kitchen and froze.

Alfred, my father, Jason and Dick stood in the kitchen, Alfred and my oldest brother looking like they were trying to break something up before it turned physical.

Now, either I was too tired, or something was very wrong with my vision, because my father was dressed as Batman.

I looked at them, they looked at me. Tim and Damian stuck their heads around the other doorway at the opposite end of the kitchen, both dressed up in vigilant attire I’d seen Red Robin and Robin wore. Dick and Jason were also dressed, Nightwing and Red Hood respectfully.

Suddenly, everything made so much more sense. Bruce’s constant state of looking exhausted despite only ever working and then going to bed before me. Damian’s limp from two weeks ago, Tim falling out of bed and spraining his wrist, the gash Dick got on his forehead despite having two days off from work.

They were running around at night playing heroes.

I stared at them, and they stared back at me, each looking like I’d caught them with their hands in the cookie jar. Even Alfred seemed slightly alarmed, and the dude didn’t flinch at anything.

“I’m too tired for this shit. Go argue outside.” Spinning on my heels, I sped back to my bedroom and shut the door.

That whatever-the-hell-just-happened was tomorrow morning’s problem. Tonight, I was sleeping. Deeply, peacefully. Ignorantly.

Climbing back into bed, I pulled the cover over myself and closed my eyes. For someone who’s entire perception of their family just got flipped upside down, I managed to fall asleep pretty quickly.

When I awoke, it was to my alarm set on my phone.

For a while, I forgot what happened the previous night. I stumbled out of bed with a groan, stood somewhat straight in the shower, and managed to get my scratchy uniform on. And then, I opened my bedroom door and Damian was on the other side.

He eyed me up and down, arms crossed over his chest. “Father requests your presence at breakfast.”

“Well I’m not gonna miss it.” I mumbled back, shouldering past it.

It was as I tried to shove passed him and was met with an impressive amount of resistance for someone so small that I remembered what I’d seen last night. Who I had seen.

Oh my god, Bruce was Batman!

Mr Billionaire, life handed to him on a golden spoon, was the madman who dressed up in all black at night and ran around the city terrorizing Gotham’s criminals.

Why? What the hell even made him go down this path?

I turned around to look at my little brother.

The latest Robin, if the whispering around school was to be taken truthfully. So far considered the most violent of the masked crusader’s group.

Well, they got the violent part down.

But he was freaking 13 years old. Why the hell would Bruce let a 13 year old face armed murderers?

Shit, why the hell was Bruce letting a 13 year old stay up all night?

I thought he was just a distant parent, but this was straight up child endangerment.

Would I be arrested if it turned out I knew he was allowing Damian to do this? Would I be arrested for knowing he’d Batman and not handing him over?

Was what I saw even real?

Sleep deprivation could cause hallucinations.

Yeah, that’s all it was. A hallucination. This was all just some big misunderstanding. I was over tired, Bruce had dark pajamas, everyone had rainbow pajamas, Alfred was still just Alfred. All was good.

My summons for breakfast was just to wish me luck for my exam, or to tell me about an event that was coming up.

Nothing was wrong, my life was still normal-ish. Everything would be fine.

I made my way to the breakfast room, because yes this house was so big we had a room for eating breakfast and a room for dinner, and found Bruce seated at the head of the table.

He was reading a newspaper, Alfred seated beside him. To his left, Dick and Tim.

I was surprised to see that Jason was actually here. Had he stayed the night? Judging by the fact that he was not seated at the table but rather leaning against the wall and had his arms crossed, I guessed it wasn’t voluntary.

“Men.” I greeted, walking to take a seat next to Alfred, Damian following behind me and sitting next to Dick.

On my plate, a wonderful stack of vegan pancakes.

One of the few things Damian and I had in common, we were both vegan. Or, I tried to be as vegan as possible. At times, ice-cream and pizza were too strong to resist. You’d think it’d bring us closer together but nope, still got glared at for simply being alive.

My only sanctuary away from it was weeks at my mom’s, since they’d decided to have a one week, one week custody deal.

I hated weeks at Bruce’s for two reasons. One, Damian. Two, I had to wake up earlier cause it took forever to drive into the city from here. The apartment with Mom was so close to school I walked. At Bruce’s, I had to endure a 40 minute drive with Damian.

Bruce never took us, always having to leave either before or after. Sometimes Tim took us, or Dick. It was mostly Alfred, in the Rolls Royce.

Picking up my knife and fork, I prepared to dig in.

“Y/n,” Bruce tried to start, but I cut him off by pointing my knife at him. In hindsight, not the best idea considering who he was. My father or not, I didn’t doubt he’d kick my ass.

“Breakfast first.”

And I left no room for discussion as I cut into my pancakes and took a huge bite, and then another and another.

Everyone else followed my lead, silently beginning to eat their breakfast. Jason left his spot of brooding eventually and joined me, actually sitting beside me. This was the closest we’d ever been to one another.

I tried to not make too big a deal of that fact, keeping my eyes forward when they so desperately wanted to take in all his scars.

I guess now it made sense where they came from, but it didn’t make it right.

How young had he been when Bruce had let him loose on the streets? Had he even wanted to do it, or was he forced into this life?

Were any of them in it by choice?

I glanced over and Bruce and found him staring at me.

Yesterday, he’d look at me with a smile, and his eyes seemed warm. Now, there was no familiarity. There wasn’t even care.

Had these last 3 months all been fake? Did he love me at all? Was I here because he wanted me or because he wanted another sidekick?

“I won’t tell anyone.” I spoke, barely louder than a whisper.

Bruce didn’t say anything, didn’t blink. Just watched me, analyzed me. I almost jumped when he finally spoke.

“You have an exam to get to. We’ll discuss this tonight.”

And that seemed to be the magic words. Everyone stood up, all done with their breakfasts and ready to start the day.

I still had half my plate left and rushed to shovel it all in, charging to the garage when Alfred called that it was time to go.

I hopped in the back, beside Damian, and intended to get my textbook out for some last-minute studying before school, but the little shit spoke up.

“You tell anyone about us, make one tiny slip up or remark, and I will sever your voice box.”

For once, I actually understood the gravity behind the threat. It wasn’t just siblings bickering, it was a promise.

And given how Bruce had looked at me this morning, I doubted he’d do anything to stop it.

Nobody knew Batman’s identity. Nobody had ever figured it out.

Maybe there was a reason for that.

[torturedtypewritersdept]

blue eyes + bruises - part three

✯ pairing:

doctor!rafe cameron x fem!reader

✯ summary:

a tragic car accident looks like it'll be the end for you, but dr. cameron is here to make sure that doesn't happen.

✯ warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, and fear, car accident, death of a spouse (not rafe or y/n), major surgery, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was origianlly posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity back in 2021/2022 and i have rewritten + reshared it here :)

Rafe sat next to your bedside, he’s always wondered why so many patients' families had complained about the green plastic chairs he had again found himself in. He never understood their issue with a piece of furniture until he was in this moment with his Molly. He could feel its rigidity against his back as he sat watching the ventilator you were connected to send swooshes of air into your lungs. It was single handedly keeping you alive. The moment that you were in right now, with no one but a doctor you barely knew at your bedside. The hiss and tick of the machine had become background noise as he sat next to you, no longer covered by scrubs, but instead, jeans, a t-shirt, and leather jacket covered his body as he watched you live a moment that he already had. He could close his eyes and still remember it, still remember her like it was yesterday.. He wondered how he had found himself in this moment again. How he had managed to feel every ounce of emotion he had pushed down over the last two years in one measly twenty-four hour period. It wasn’t that he saw her in you, no it was different; your beauty so ethereal and unlike this world – maybe it was a twist of fate that your injuries were identical or that you had her eyes. Whatever the case, he was simply captivated by your beauty, your essence, your aura, there was something within you that he just couldn’t put his finger on. 

He had finished charting hours ago and instead of going home to be alone amongst the coolness of the sheets and the photos of her that still littered his walls, he stayed beside you, holding your hand – just in case. Jenni’s words still bounced around in his exhausted brain and he knew once he sat next to you for the first time – hell – he knew the first time he looked in your eyes that he couldn’t let you be alone, that he couldn’t leave you alone. If you were going to die, he’d hold your hand and brush the hair away from your face, he’d caress your cheek and tell you how loved he knew you were, whether anyone had bothered to show up for you or not. It’s what you deserved, it’s what she deserved. The anxiety and the freshness of his gaping chest wound was ever present, but he couldn’t leave you to cross into the next life without so much as someone to wrap their hand in yours – it’s just not the kind of guy he was. 

He still held out hope that you’d make it, that you’d be okay, that he could potentially get to know you or atleast the you that you would be after surviving such a traumatic event. He knew first hand that there was an afterglow when you got to the other side of something like that and he hoped he could bask in yours. He looked down at your hand – the one his was wrapped up in – as he tried to get away from the thoughts, as he tried to get away from Molly and the idea of you winding up just like she did. He noticed your nail polish, yellow with a black smiley face on the middle finger of each hand, similar to that of the Walmart mascot in the 90s. He giggled at that. Though he didn’t know much about you he knew you were bright – like sunshine to gravitate toward the color yellow and he knew you liked vintage things by the detail of your nail. He marveled at the fact that to have been involved in a crash so violent, your manicure was intact. He wondered how the universe was the product of things like that. Lost in thought again, Rafe brought your hand up to his lips, only grazing them over your cut up skin and he felt something, a twitch. Jumping backwards, he blinked violently a few times, unsure if he was imagining things. He was tired after all, the sunkenness of his eyes Sarah had mentioned still everpresent. He let go of your hand briefly, lifting his body from the green plastic in an effort to trudge to the on-call room and finally sleep. At least he’d be here if you needed him. As he rose, he felt it again – the twitch – and before another thought could cross through his tired brain, he noticed your eyes fly open and you start to fight against the ventilator, gasping for the air that was being pumped into you, your gag reflex pleading for control against the foreign object in your throat. His hands flew to your shoulder and your hair, rubbing soothing circles as he brushed your hair away from your face. You looked at him with fear in your eyes and his senses took over. 

“Hey, sweet girl. I know you’re scared, but I need you to relax so I can take it out, okay? Blink once for yes and twice for no for me, okay?” 

One blink. That was all he needed and suddenly all the emotions he was harboring didn’t matter, all he cared about was making sure you were safe and that you knew he would take care of you. The muscles in his chest squeezed against the walls of his heart as he watched tears fall out of the corners of your eyes.

“Okay, pretty girl. I’m gonna take the tube out. When I give you the go ahead, I’m gonna need you to give me the biggest cough you can and then I'll pull the tube right out, okay?” 

He explained the process of the procedure to you at your level with kindness and care and you appreciated that, even in a state of being halfway sedated. He stood there, suctioning out as much as he could of any remaining flem and secretions that remained in your throat. His voice soothed you in a sort of deja vu kind of way and you couldn't put your finger on why this stranger gave you so much peace, so much comfort – like just being in his presence was enough to make every bad thing in your world okay again.

“Okay, sweetheart. Go ahead and give me a big cough.” 

At his words, you sucked in a big breath and used all your lung power to drive a dry cough out of your throat. Simultaneously, Rafe pulled the tube from your airway, laying it on top of the napkin like material he had draped over your chest. Your first breath felt violent, it grips on to your throat like sandpaper against wood. It was uncomfortable to say the least but you were thankful to breathe on your own volition again. 

“Ow”

You croaked out, letting a wince dance across your features. 

“Can you tell me what hurts?” 

He questioned sweetly, hands still rubbing soothing circles into your hair. You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. 

“Everything.” 

You mumbled. 

“I know, it’s gonna be that way for a while. Can you tell me what hurts the most?

You nodded – or attempted to, feeling plastic underneath your chin, alerting you that you were hurt, sparking a fear in you that you had never felt before. 

“W-what’s wrong with me?” 

You asked, reaching for the sweaty brace that your neck was encased by in an attempt to aid the burn of your throat. It felt like with every breath you took fire was coming from the depths of your belly. Rafe grabs your hands, ripping them away from the brace that encased your neck. 

“Easy, sweetheart. I need you to focus, okay? You’re really hurt and your neck needs to be still right now. I’ll explain everything but I need you to calm down, okay? Can you do that for me?” 

You looked up at him, pleading for answers, but understanding that he was there to help as his pools of blue looked back at you in soft reassurance. 

“Let’s get you some medicine and we’ll chat about everything, okay? My name is Rafe.” 

Rafe – Rafe as in Rafe Cameron? You wondered. Suddenly it all made sense, the dreamy doctor that you thought you imagined stood in front of you, with a kind disposition and sweet words and a beautiful chiseled jaw. If you were a praying woman, you’d say you were in heaven. But, it was in fact quite the opposite as you continued to feel the pain course through your body with every miniscule movement. 

“O-okay.” 

Rafe gave you a soft smile and brought the walkie up to his mouth, speaking into it. 

“Jenni, I need morphine, zofran, fluids, and lorazepam in 293.” 

His voice was soothing, even as he spoke medical words that were nonsensical to laymen's ears. 

“You got it boss, on my way.” 

The woman’s voice spoke back. She sounded sweet in the same way that Rafe did in the emergency room and it gave you hope that she was as kind as he was. 

“How are you feeling, sweet girl?” 

You attempted to turn your head in the direction of her voice, but were met by Rafe’s strong hands pushing your shoulders back against the pillows. 

“Try not to move until I give you this medicine, sweetheart.” 

He spoke reassuringly, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. 

“O-okay. I’m okay.” 

You whispered out and gave her a small smile. 

“There she is, a pretty smile on a pretty girl.” 

He spoke and moved forward, watching as Jenni came into your peripheral vision. Rafe took your hand in his again and rubbed soothing circles into it while Jenni inserted the medicine into your IV. You grimaced at the burning feeling of the medicine as it entered your veins. 

“Now, let’s get you feeling better, yeah?” 

He spoke kindly and blush rose to your cheeks. 

taglist:

as always, if you'd like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please shoot me an ask or comment on this post so i can keep track <3

@maybankslover @inthelibrarybtw @luvrcndy @silkylovey @yagirlwrites @obxbabygirl @rafeecameronsbitch @klutzy-kay24 @roseczbalt @akobx @allsmilesreally7 @wtfdudesblog

[lemedstudent2021]

books & stuff!!

i have been meaning to make this post for months now lol oops :') have been asked to recommend books and stuff so here i am finally, i will update with more as i go along and link what i can find. enjoy!

--

Islam

made a list of reads and resources for sisters looking into islam on reddit, indeed this blog was first made with the purpose of sharing things abt islam & muslim daily life & med stuff. so by popular request (a beloved moot lol) i present to u

*:･ﾟ✧ links to playlists:

5 pillars made plain (a playlist going through the foundation upon which Islam is built. Islam 101 if you will)

My moment of conviction (when reverts realised they were on the right path)

Jesus in Islam (learn how Muslims see Isa peace be upon him)

Keys to prophetic parenting (parenting from the perspective of the best of mankind!)

*:･ﾟ✧ resources in general:

Quran.com (listen to the Quran, read the tafsir (exegesis), and peruse reflections left by users)

Sunnah.com (books of Hadith (narrations of the prophet peace be upon him) categorised according to authenticity, the best of which belonging to Sahih Muslim and Sahih Bukhari may God be pleased with them both)

and:

Yaqeen institute (website & youtube)

Mufti Menk (scholar and speaker, passionate, sometimes funny, always informative) & my favourite dad joke of his lol

*:･ﾟ✧ books i have:

Islam for younger people (i reread this often ^-^)

Islam beliefs and teachings (this ones in my dads office lol)

answers to non muslims' common questions about islam (direct and satisfactory)

in the early hours (a book gifted to me and is dear to my heart)

islamic manners (another gift, a must read for everyone really)

God bless! *throws sparkles*

--

my library

sadly i am not as well read as i would like to be lol, my lil library is limited to the books i grew up with; a few older children novels and some non-fiction. i mainly want to read classics, literature and poetry alike, like shakespeare, the bronte sisters, jane austen, edgar allan poe and the like. ive been meaning to expand for years, but alas, i have yet to find the time (and motivation) to do so. not really into ya, id love to read crime and mystery though (like agatha christie) one day. wow just remembered my sherlock holmes phase while writing this :D

*:･ﾟ✧ currently reading (and i use the term reading very loosely lol):

the posthumous memoirs of bras cubas (download link)

the iliad - homer

the odyssey - also homer

probably more i forgor

*:･ﾟ✧ on my shelf (physical and metaphorical):

the black death - philip ziegler

hagakure - yamamoto tsunetomo

the ones who walk away from omelas (rec from a moot :3)

as long as the lemon trees grow - zoulfa katouh

there will come soft rains - ray bradbury

*:･ﾟ✧ favourite & most beloved reads:

the anne series (esp anne of the island)

children of the new forest

the secret garden

companions of the prophet (comfort reads of mine. also i have the revised edition and i only found my book 2, heres a pdf tho)

*:･ﾟ✧ others:

toxic childhood - sue palmer (was reading parenting books at 15 lol. tbf its a great read. i also had no friends so)

theres a sequel too (detoxing childhood)

a short history of the ottoman empire - erhan afyoncu (this is the only link i found beside amazon :'))

living in the ottoman lands: identities, administration & warfare (turkiye was beautiful & i still feel guilty abt not reading these two)

probably more i also forgor

--

thank u for reading this far and being patient with me i really appreciate it lol. happy reading!!

for my beloveds @notsolonedesert & @sporadicallyanenthusiast <3

[gemallass]

Accidentally made a 1,198 words ficlet as a sequel of sorts to this post

Can you imagine that's how Stan finds out that Ford regresses? 🥺

Without waiting for a proper response to his knocking he barges into Stanford's room, after all, Stanley is a man on a mission right now: Making sure his very intelligent but also knucklehead of a brother doesn't miss on a proper meal, which, could end up in two different ways.

Case one, he has to wake him up. Or at the very least get him conscious enough that he can get a bearing of his surroundings, and, hopefully, not feed the floor too much of his food.

Stan doesn't care if Ford ends up falling asleep on the table while he cooks something up for the both of them. He doesn't care if Ford blinks one eye at a time and eats even slower, which delays the task of washing the dishes and has him counting the stains on the ceiling for the next hour. And he certainly doesn't care if he has to guide or even carry Ford back to his room when he, inevitably, ends up falling asleep at the table again.

So long as he's not starving and overeating later, anything is fair game.

Case two, he has to convince him to get away from his work, which is never easy. And after having had a few arguments over eating (turned) cold hard food, bringing the meal to said room and leaving him to it isn't an option anymore.

They both know hot meals are a privilege, why waste it?

But they also know that the habits that once helped you make it to another day are hard to get rid of.

Stanley also isn't balancing the plate on his lap, either, when there's a perfectly fine table in the kitchen. Thank you very much.

He complains, mostly to himself, no doubt, about how he can feel his stomach disintegrating due to not having put anything in it--never mind the fact that he merely woke up minutes ago--but stops abruptly when he's inches away from the end of the bed-couch. And with a hand still hovering above the covers, he finally takes in the scene before him.

His brother, the interdimensional criminal, certified badass, owner (and creator?) of a hundred spacey-looking guns and the man that went through hell at the hands of a yellow demon--who Stan also wishes he could turn into his personal punching bag to use until the end of times--and still got out alive, with most of his sense of self intact, even, was sleeping with a goddamned plushie of half his height.

And with a dark blue pacifier in his mouth.

Oh, he's so not letting dear ol' Sixer live this down any time soon. He rubs his hands together while a mischievous grin appears on his face at the mere thought of a few remarks and jokes he could do.

After all, Stanley is not going to miss the chance to expand his arsenal of things to tease Stanford with. I mean, c'mon, he looks utterly and completely adorable! What's Stan to do? Ignore it and break the sacred sibling's code? Blasphemy in its purest form, he says!

Plus, the guy looks pretty relaxed too, a whole change from the usual deal. And vulnerable, which, did also differ a bit from the usual.

Hm.

That last thought brings his previous scheming and snickering to a sudden halt. He takes a seat on a free spot on the couch, careful to not touch the sleeping man at his side, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to let the peaceful atmosphere continue. Maybe even keep it from being disrupted.

Yeah, he could do that.

Because at last, Ford hadn't woken up at the slightest sound, and started pacing as if he hadn't been asleep moments ago. At last, Ford didn't seem to be fighting for his life when he was supposed to be the most relaxed, according to normal people (and verified by his fellow nerds). At last, Stanford hadn't jumped out of bed and taken the stance of a threatened wild animal when his brother, his twin, Stanley, entered his space. Something that he seemed to have learned for survival purposes--which Stan can also relate to--and that he doesn't really fault him for, yet that it came with a price when people close to you were involved. Hurting them one way or another.

Which, speaking of, he isn't sure if Ford would take kindly to him knowing about... This... That he does.

Stanley doesn't think anything about it. Really. Specially since it seems to be so effective on helping Brainiac sleep for once. And it appears to be harmless, so, who cares? Not him, that's for sure. But, if Ford had wanted him to know, he would've spoken or at the very least mentioned it, right? Back on the boat, there were nights where they slept on the same bed due to old not-so-happy memories resurfacing, or even just nightmares involving either them or the other, and they could use the reassurance that everything was and is okay and also that the other was safe and relatively healthy (some habits did start to catch up with them and did not mix well with the old man problems. (Cursed be the nicotine manufacturers on Stan's case)).

Did Stanford need it then and there but abstained from it to not seem "weird" in his brother's eyes? Please! Stanley ran a business in Gravity Falls for 30 years, for Moses’ sake!

Surely he knows that the jokes he throws at him are just harmless banter and that he never means it as a genuine attack, right? He must know he wouldn't judge him for something like this, right? Jeez, Pointdexter, I wouldn't hit you so low. Stanley thinks. Not again, never again.

Were it not for the--quite painful--pang and literal growl of his stomach, Stanley would have continued studying his sleeping brother and thinking about how to approach the topic. If at all. But alas, he's needed somewhere else. Somewhere with fresh food. And maybe coffee.

As gently and slowly as he sat down, he gets up, but freezes mid-way through when the still figure decided to not-be-so-still anymore. His brain scrambles for a way to book it out of there without making a sound while his heart beats in his ears. Finally, when he sees that Ford was definitely still asleep, and that he also feels his soul come back to him, he gives the rest of his body permission to continue working as usual. His lungs being the first to get back into action with a big release of air and subsequently an intake.

He glances back at his brother with a soft smile one last time before deciding to take his leave.

Stanford can have his secrets. Stanley would make sure to guard and protect them (and him). Ford didn't have to know that Stan knew, if that's what he had wanted in the first place. Stanley could keep his mouth shut.

Besides, it wouldn't be lying if it was never brought up. Nothing for him to deny, so, Stan is on the clear here.

. . .

Hopefully.