#it’s not the trope itself that is bad is all I’m saying

[bumblebeehug]

hi friend. i am in desperate need of a chapter 520 reversal. lucy’s body heat is down and our man Natsu needs to help,,, post Alvarez PLEASE💗 love all your fics btw.

i'm yours no matter

Summary: Lucy comes back from a tough job in a terrible state: she's in a coma, Porlyusica won't stop naming risks and consequenses of the damage she's taken, and Natsu wants to throw up out of worry. Notes: glad fortsättning as we say in sweden! christmas is over, i have to study for my test, new years will probably leave me with the worst hangover ever bc when hasn't it :') but here's a hurt/comfort fic to satisfy y'all until the middle of january<3 thank you bluedragneel for this request, i'm obsessed with this trope and might write it again some day teehee :3 Ao3 - FF.net(link coming)

***

Natsu would never have let Lucy go without him on this mission if he knew the state she’d come back in. He clenched and unclenched his fists while trying to understand what Porlyusica was saying, between odd medical terms and concerned small talk. He didn’t care about the details: he needed to know what happened and how it was going to be fixed.

“Boy, are you listening to me?”

“Huh? What? Come again?”

Porlyusica sighed, a vain threatening to pop out of her forehead.

“This is important. We don’t know how she’ll recover, if she recovers. If she does wake up we won’t be certain if she makes it out without brain damage. Wendy did the best she could, but even her magic is limited.” The fact that Porlyusica wasn’t screaming or yelling with rage, or even annoyingly tapping her foot or actively scowling at him made it clear that this was serious. She tried to appear calm, but in this case it only made him more worried.

“What… does brain damage mean? What would happen to her?” Natsu wasn’t sure he’d like the answer, but he had to know.

“What it entails?” She clarified, getting half a nod as an answer. “Well, if her brain is too damaged, her attention and concentration could suffer, we don’t yet know to what degree. She could also have problems with her memories, and making decisions and motivation would become difficult. This could mean that she’ll be more easily distracted, or she’ll experience information overload and become slower at taking in and making sense of information. Her work as a wizard would be jeopardized.”

Natsu felt a headache creeping on. He wasn’t sure if he properly understood half of that, but it sounded bad. His throat felt thick, swallowing seemingly didn’t help.

“That’s not all though.” Natsu glared at her.

“There’s more?”

He felt ill to his stomach. What could possibly be worse than what she’d just told him?

“We don’t know the exact circumstances around what caused this coma. Her sustained injuries have me worried that she’ll become disabled. It’s not certain she’ll be able to walk or talk like before.”

“What,” he hissed. “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier!?”

“I did tell you, you were just too busy throwing a hissyfit to listen.” If eyes could kill, Natsu would be ten feet under. “I’m not saying there’s nothing to be done, though.”

Natsu almost perked up. He didn’t dare have any high hopes, but a spark of possibility had shown itself: maybe she’d end up okay. Just maybe.

“What we know from the mission is that the client requested protection from a snow monster. Its estimated strength was around ten times the strength of a vulcan, and not only that – it was said to use strange curses. As curses are unregulated, we’re not sure what could have caused exactly this, but we understand that she got thrown headfirst into the mountain. It was Loke that brought her back, but due to how different the time flows in the celestial world, she’d already been out in the snow for a couple of hours.” Porlyusica tried to summarize again what had happened, considering Natsu had been too worried to listen the first time. “We already have Levy, Freed and Makarov working to figure out the curse, but there’s something I want you to do in the meantime.”

Natsu perked up, listening intently. If he could do something, anything, to get her back, he’d do it without a second thought.

“You need to keep her warm.”

“I can do that!” Natsu almost laughed in relief. He’s a dragon slayer – warming things was the thing he did best!

“You have to make the transition steady though. If you heat her up too quickly she could go into shock. Do you understand? You have to start by warming her with your body heat. This is important, you cannot rush things like these.” Porlyusica narrowed her eyes. If he got careless Lucy’s health could be in danger.

“Body heat? So what do I do, just warm her with my hands? It’s gonna take ages.” He fidgeted with his hands, suddenly more impatient than usual. Not to warm Lucy, specifically, just to get her treatment started. He understood how important it was to follow Porlyusica’s instructions: she’d never been wrong about this before.

“Do you remember back when Fiore was at war with Alvarez? You had that tumour in you, and you too were passed out in a coma. Back then, your fire was going out: you were rapidly freezing to death. Lucy was the one who kept you alive, and she did so with skin to skin contact. Today I need you to do the same.”

Goosebumps appeared on Natsu’s arms as he recalled. That was a time he didn’t think fondly of. He went through a lot of hardship back then, even if waking up to Lucy and Happy was something that had given him relief at the time. That’s right, where was Happy?

“Y-yeah, I’ll do it,” he mumbled scattermindedly. “Do you know where Happy went? I rushed here so fast, I’m not sure I told him what was going on…”

Porlyusica sighed. This boy was something else, wasn’t he? Not in the best way either, she feared.

“While you were yelling and getting mad, trying to run to the client of her mission for revenge, I explained everything to him. He’s already gotten a head start. I urge you to join him.” This time her glare was comparable to lazer, earning a hard gulp from Natsu. Still, he was relieved to hear Happy wasn’t in the dark: he knew how much those two meant for each other. If Lucy fell ill and Happy couldn’t be there to help… He didn’t want to think of it. Happy had been much more protective of Lucy ever since he felt Future Lucy die. That went for Natsu too of course.

___

Natsu gulped again and looked back at Porlyusica. Lucy layed behind those hospital drapes, shallow breaths filling up the room. Her scent did its usual work of calming him, but he noticed that it didn’t carry in the air like usual. He was sure that curse and her lack of body heat had something to do with it.

Porlyusica had turned around as she let Natsu undress. She’d seen him in this light attire before, but as a healer she had some courtesy to at least wait until he was finished. Natsu awkwardly cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had filled the room.

“Do I… Take off my underwear?” Porlyusica nearly choked on her own spit.

“No. Please don’t. For all our sake. She’s still a lady.” The last sentence was muttered in a voice barely louder than a whisper, but Natsu heard it. Still, he didn’t want to do anything wrong. “Are you done?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, feeling his arms hang along his sides. This situation was so odd. He wasn’t exactly shy, but being bare like this in a serious situation felt vulnerable. He wanted to wear his scarf, but she had rejected that idea as soon as he said it. Something about the neck being an important area as a heat source.

Porlyusica turned around, not sparing him as much as a glance. Instead she headed straight to the curtains and drew them to the side. There she was. Under a couple of blankets. So still that he’d be worried for her life didn’t he hear her pulse. It was faint, a bit irregular, but there. He’d made sure to really listen for it this time.

“What are you waiting for? Join her.” The healer motioned at the bed.

“It’s so small though…” he puzzled. If he had a Jewel for every time Porlyusica sent him a stare that was out to kill, he’d have enough money to buy not just Lucy’s apartment, but her entire apartment building. He took that as a sign to keep quiet if he was about to question Porlyusica’s methods.

“You’re gonna need to cuddle close anyways, just hurry up. We’ve already wasted too much time.”

Natsu took a shaky breath and lifted Lucy’s blanket. Her bluish pale hands laying against her sides made his heart drop. This was really serious. Just because this was a treatment that could help, didn’t mean that her health would perfectly return. If anything, this was just another flighty attempt to heal her. Surely it wouldn’t benefit her as much as lifting the curse: had Natsu been smarter, maybe he could have helped her faster.

He shook his head. No, he had to focus on what he could do here and now. Worrying about things that could have been wouldn’t help at all, even if he was right about this body-warming treatment only helping a little. It might just be the thing that would keep her away from this brain damage thing Porlyusica had been talking about. He finally crawled into bed beside her.

Cold. She was really cold. His first instinct was to make his own body heat higher, but as he was about to he heard Porlyusica’s warnings echo in his mind. If he didn’t take this slow, new complications could arise. He just had to slowly get used to this sensation.

Porlyusica suddenly spoke up.

“Now, I don’t want you just laying there doing nothing.”

Natsu sent her a confused look. Wasn’t this what she’d asked him to do?

“You need to talk to her. Say her name. Whatever happened on her mission, I’m growing increasingly uncertain of her coma being caused by a concussion. If anything, it’s more likely that it’s a magic coma. And if it’s a curse, nothing helps breaking it better than love. You need to call out to her.”

For the first time in a very long time, Natsu felt himself blush. Just faintly, but the indication that his love for Lucy would be the thing to wake her up, made him feel weird inside. Not a bad weird, just… weird.

“She did the same to you,” she added, only pouring gasoline on the fire inside of him. “If I didn’t think this was important I’d ask for someone else for help, much earlier. Elfman has a large body, he could easily get her to a normal body temp.”

This time, her implications made Natsu tense up instead. He didn’t like the thought of that giant muscle head cuddling with Lucy, skin to skin. He instinctively wrapped his arm around her waist, as to protect her from whatever googly eyed guy that would come waltzing in, in hopes to join them under her blanket.

“Don’t look so stupid. Getting angry gets you nowhere. Anyway, you’re the one who has to do this. If anything can wake her, whether she’s under a curse or not, it’s the connection you share. So I need you to talk to her.”

Natsu once again felt weird inside. He couldn’t pin the feeling down: was it that he felt vulnerable? Or that he felt embarrassed, doing all this in front of someone else? It was awfully intimate after all. Happy was one thing, but having another person listen to him calling out her name like a lost, desperate puppy? Well, awkward or not, it had to be done. He cleared his throat again and looked back at Lucy with determination. He felt his arms lightly shake her from a natural body reaction.

“Lucy,” he tried, his voice sounding weak in the still room. “Hey Lucy, come on… Wake up, would’ya?”

For the first time since Natsu entered the room, Happy spoke up. He seemed like he was in his own world, dazed in worry. Hearing Natsu must have made him realise what had been going on around him.

“Lushy…” The nasal croak he let out made it clear he’d been crying. Natsu envied him a little: he wanted to cry too, but if he did he was sure he’d have a complete breakdown. He had to focus on getting her awake – crying wasn’t an option. Porlyusica shifted her weight. It looked like she wanted to sit down, but she had to join the others with coming up with a cure soon.

“You have to try harder than that Natsu. A tip to not feel like you’re going crazy just repeating her name, is to recall old memories. It’ll keep you busy from anxiety and worry, plus it’ll strengthen your and her resolve. Besides, it’ll make your bond feel stronger. I think that could be beneficial in a case like this.” Porlyusica watched as Natsu turned her words in his mind, trying to understand exactly what she meant. “I’ll trust you to do this now, don’t let her down.”

With those words Porlyusica left the infirmary, leaving Natsu and Happy with their unconscious friend.

Natsu held Lucy close, her icy skin a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his body. Carefully he glanced at Happy, who looked like he was close to dissociating. If he didn’t start talking now, he’d probably have to deal with two traumatised people who meant a lot to him, and he wasn’t sure if he had the strength to do that.

This thought was enough to kick him into action. He swallowed hard, his voice low and trembling as he spoke.

"Lucy… you’ve gotta come back. You can’t leave us like this." Carefully he grabbed her hand, her fingertips almost blue from lack of blood circulation. His grip tightened just slightly, as if willing her to feel the warmth spreading from his fingers. "I don’t know what happened out there, but I’m here now, okay? So… so just wake up."

He took a shaky breath, tangling his legs with hers, just like he’d done so many times before in her apartment. This time it was different. This entire situation made him want to cringe, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.Why her out of all people? He’d never been the one who solved problems tenderly. He could fight, get revenge, he’d always been confident of his ability to do grand gestures to fix what was wrong. He couldn’t handle things with care, make out nuances in language, emotion or even a thing like physical hurt. If Lucy ever got injured she’d be honest and frank: sure, she tried to go on for a little bit longer than she should, even while having deep gushes through her legs or shoulders popped out of place. But she was honest enough about it that Natsu always knew what to do about it: sear the opening of the wound, fetch Wendy, pop her bones back into place. Those things were child's play in comparison to this. Now he had to carefully heat her up, not too quickly but not too slowly either, while calling out to her, pulling on whatever strings they had on each other’s unconsciousness. He was aware of the connection they shared, and he was normally confident in it: at times he felt like they shared one and the same mind. But this? He wasn’t so sure it was enough anymore.

"You’re always the one who’s there for everyone," he continued, his voice breaking just a little. "You never give up, no matter how bad things get. That’s who you are. So don’t stop now, Lucy. Please… just don’t."

Happy joined in through whispers in her ear, not daring to raise his voice in case it’d crack. Natsu felt his heart break a little as he watched him hold on to Lucy for dear life. It was one thing that Natsu felt like this, but Happy wasn’t meant to be sad: he had spent his whole life making sure he would get the childhood Natsu never got. For him to have to almost lose Lucy twice: it was a pain Natsu could barely cope with himself. He was genuinely worried about his furry friend.

Still, he had to stay focused. He remembered what Porlyusica had told him, about memories being an effective way to keep his anxiety at bay, while still grasping at Lucy’s unconscious.

His thoughts raced, memories flashing through his mind. The way she’d smiled when they took their first job together, the way she’d always trusted him to catch her when she’d fall, how she always knew what to say to get him to keep moving forward.

"Hey, Lucy… You gotta wake up, you know? I promised you we’d go on more adventures, back when we fought against Future Rogue and…" His voice cracked, he still didn’t dare finish that sentence. "Whenever I was a wreck, you were there. You didn’t give up on me, not even for a second. So now it’s my turn, Lucy. I’m not giving up on you."

Happy’s soft, tearful voice chimed in from beside them. "Lushy… we need you. Please wake up."

Natsu’s jaw clenched. He would do anything to get her out of this. He just wished he could do something more effective. Deep in his stomach he felt his fire work it’s magic: he’d been suppressing it so he wouldn’t warm her up too quickly, so to not slip up and unleash a heat wave on the three of them, he took a deep breath.

“I… Guess this is the time to tell you how thankful we are that we met you all those years ago.” Happy met Natsu’s flickering gaze, sharing a small encouraging nod. “We really are thankful. Like, we’d probably be dead if it weren’t for you.” He tried to chuckle at the attempt of a joke, but Happy didn’t seem as pleased. Natsu cleared his throat.

“What I’m trying to say is… well… we can’t imagine a life without you. If I ever had to go back to only sleeping in my swine sty of a house, instead of being with you everyday, I’m not sure I’d be able to keep my sanity. Even when you scream and do all kinds of weird stuff, we need you.”

“Lushy,” Happy sniffled, “what would I do if I had to go back to only living with Natsu? I’d starve! He burns my fish and everything else we own…”

“Oh come on! You’ve survived up till now!” Natsu protested, but couldn’t bring himself to actually find a counter argument. He was telling the truth after all. Happy glared at him and continued talking.

“I know he’s really stupid,” he began, earning a stern frown from Natsu, “but I think he might be the one who’d hate it the most if you died. But that aside, I don’t think I could stand losing you again.” Tears were once again pouring out of his eyes. “You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to an actual proper mom…”

The last part would have been impossible for Natsu to hear, hadn’t it been for his dragon-hearing. He swallowed the big knot in his throat that threatened to come out as a sob. He didn’t know Happy had felt so strongly about Lucy, though it made sense as he heard it. Of course she was like a mom to him: she was perfect like that. Caring, worrisome at times, but always loving.

“Hey, you heard him, right? You can’t leave Happy after he tells you something like that, can you? So hurry and wake up… You’d never forgive me if I scared you like this, so come on…”

“But you did scare us like that though,” Happy argued.

“Oh can it,” Natsu muttered, raising his body temperature another degree.

While continuing talking, mixing the casual bickering with emotional anecdotes, Natsu started massaging Lucy’s right hand, the one with her guild mark. Laying there, he realised that the colour of it really was the exact same shade as his hair. The thought tugged on his heartstrings. Had she even meant for that to happen, when he made her join Fairy Tail all those years ago? Had she always been determined that it would be the two of them – and Happy of course – teaming up? Even if that wasn’t the case, if it had been her unconscious that picked the shade of pink so close to his hair, he still wanted to tear up. The two of them were so incredibly attached, to the point where Natsu couldn’t even imagine a life without her anymore.

He continued observing her hand as he massaged her soft skin. It was slender, a nuance less blue than it had been when he laid down with her some minutes ago. This realisation sparked some hope within him. They were helping her: it was working. Continuing the talking, letting his mouth speak whatever flew into his brain, he simultaneously went on thinking about her hand. When she proudly showed it off to him when her mark was new, it had been in pristine condition. Soft, flawless, not a callus or scar in sight. Her nails had been long, carefully taken care of, painted a light pink that almost seemed nude in comparison to the bright pink guild mark. As he looked at it now, it was covered in scars. Some cuts from falling on gravel, some webbing up her wrist like veins. He knew that must have been reminiscent of when she rewrote E.N.D. for him. Another constellation of scars resembled shattering, likely scars from when she had to summon the Celestial Spirit King back when they fought Tartarus. Most of these scars gave Natsu shivers. They were all pale and faded now, but he knew they must cause Lucy pain every day. To carry her biggest joy and her worst pain on the same hand seemed taxing.

He brought her fingers up to his lips, pressed them against them lightly. Then he embraced her, letting her limp, cool body rest against his. Her skin was so soft, but he didn’t enjoy this fake cuddle session: he wanted her to be awake, or even asleep would be better: even when she was asleep she ended up reciprocating his cuddles. This made him feel like he was hugging a corpse, and it was quickly rated as one of his least favourite sensations.

In his new position he could hug her from behind, the many pillows propped up behind his back making him sit up slightly. This allowed for Lucy’s head to rest on his chest, right by his collarbones. Carefully he nudged her a little bit to the left. Maybe his heartbeat could aid them in some way: he wasn’t sure how, but it couldn’t help to try. Happy nudged himself between Natsu’s embracing arm and Lucy’s chest, covering up what would be a very revealing view hadn’t he laid there. Any other day her nudity would be arousing for Natsu, but today it didn’t have that effect. Rather than arousing, it gave him a sense of security. Their bodies, pressed against each other, like clinging on to Lucy’s soul for dear life.

He rested his lips on the top of her head for a while. Happy was in the middle of yapping about Lisanna, his biological mom and Lucy, when Natsu suddenly felt her arm twitch. It was small, and he’d disregard it as his imagination hadn’t he heard her breath hitch at the same time.

“Lucy?” He hugged her tighter, squashing Happy a little in the process. “Happy, I think she’s responding. She just twitched! Keep talking,” he urged, nuzzling his face into her neck. He was certain of it: she had reacted.

Suddenly his resolve increased tenfold, his fiery determination bubbling to the surface. He didn’t care how long this took—he’d stay by her side until she opened her eyes.

"Lucy," he said, his tone growing stronger, more resolute. "I’m not going anywhere, got it? You’re stuck with me, so you’d better wake up and yell at us for being too loud or something. You always do."

Once again he thought he saw the faintest flicker of movement—a twitch of her fingers against his hand. His breath hitched.

"Lucy? Come on, it’s me. Natsu." He leaned closer to her ear, her smell filling his head until he felt completely intoxicated. His voice dropped to a near whisper. "I need you. We all do. So please… wake up."

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, her lips parted, and a faint sound escaped.

"N… Natsu…"

His eyes widened, hope surging through him like a wildfire. "Lucy!”

Happy dried his eyes that were puffy from all the crying he’d done. He was quick to jump out of their embrace.

“I’ll go get Porlyusica!” He almost left the room before he turned back, lifted her blanket a little to cover the goods, and then hurried away. Natsu barely registered his actions, his focus being completely tuned in on Lucy.

With a split moment alone, Natsu almost felt overwhelmed with the silence. She’d called out his name, though only faint, but instead of her heartbeat rising to accommodate her waking up, it seemed like it was slightly fading. Worry filled Natsu’s head, the anxiety shooting out prickling sensations in his arms and legs.

“Lucy, what’s going on? Why’s your heartbeat slowing down?” His high pitch made the worry apparent, but he didn’t care. “Shit, come on! Stay with me!”

He rocked their bodies back and forth in hope that he’d manage to keep her heart pulsing. It was quickly made apparent that it wasn’t enough, when for a split moment her heart missed a beat.

This time he couldn’t conceal his panic. No one was nearby, Lucy was fading away by the second, and all Natsu could do was choke out a small “Please…”. He didn’t know what to do, tears welling up in his eyes faster than he was prepared for.

“Don’t leave…” he croaked, sobs filling the silence. “Shit, Lucy, I can’t live without you… I love you…”

Had he not been busy pressing her lukewarm cheek against his, rocking them back and forth, and trying to swallow the sobs that leaked out anyways, he’d notice that his confession pulled Lucy’s heartbeat back for a few seconds. But he didn’t notice this: instead he continued his endeavors of grasping whatever life was left in her.

“Lucy, Lucy, Lucy… Please…” He opened his eyes again, quickly regretting it as they soaked Lucy’s face in the salty liquid. He wanted to see her face properly, take in her soft features before it was too late. He grabbed her face with his free hand, slowly letting his thumb caress her cheek. His blurred vision made him miss how her eyebrows twitched into a furrow. Instead he let his heart steer his actions: he didn’t know what else to do.

Pushing her bangs out of her face, Natsu let his lips land on hers. Softly, his hot ones on Lucy’s dry cold ones. His chin quivered – he didn’t want his first kiss with her to be his last one. In fact, he never wanted his first kiss to be with Lucy while she was unconscious at all. He had thought of their relationship for a long time, even imagining them having their first kiss under the stars after a dinner that would leave both of them too stuffed to walk. They were supposed to be joking around, laughing, and he’d look at her, look into her brown, sparkling eyes, that held a universe inside of them, and he wouldn’t be able to contain himself, so he’d lean in and kiss her: and she’d kiss him back. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, in a sterile bed, in the infirmary that had too bright lights, naked under blankets, Lucy dying in his hands.

Still, he didn’t dare to stop kissing her. And good thing he didn’t, because suddenly, for him out of nowhere, he felt her kiss him back.

In shock he pulled away, his eyes big as plates.

“L-lucy? You’re…” Silent tears kept falling onto Lucy’s face. Her eyelids fluttered, and after what felt like an eternity, they opened, her brown eyes glassy but unmistakably alive. She blinked up at him, her voice hoarse but clear.

"You’re… warm," she murmured, her lips curling into a weak but familiar smile.

Natsu laughed, tears streaming down his face. “Don’t scare me like that…” he muttered, a blush spreading across his face before he could stop it. "But you’re back. That’s all that matters."

Lucy slowly brought her hand up, cupping Natsu’s cheek.

“Did you kiss me?”

Natsu avoided her eyes, awkwardly tensing up.

“I thought Porlyusica said you’d have brain damage or something…” Lucy was quick to hit him on his arm.

“Are you stupid? Don’t wish I wouldn’t understand something like that!” Her voice was shrill, cutting through Natsu’s ears like knives, but today he didn’t care about that. He was insanely happy to have her back to normal.

He let out a chuckle, albeit against his own will.

“It’s not like I hoped for our first kiss to be like that.”

Lucy just smiled. She had put out a lot of energy right as she woke up: truth was, she still felt exhausted and honestly a bit dizzy. After getting a good look at Natsu, taking in his worried frown, his wet cheeks and reddened eyes, she closed her eyes again.

“What are you?! Lucy! Wake up!” He violently shook her this time, not allowing her to fade away again.

“Calm down,” she puffed, “I just need to rest a little.” Slowly she sneaked one eye open, observing Natsu as his wrinkle became more prominent.

“How do I know you won’t die in your sleep?”

“Well, for one you don’t keep believing that I will. Don’t manifest it.” She tried to joke, but it was apparent Natsu didn’t understand what she meant. She sighed. “Just… Stay here, please?”

She turned her body around so she laid on her stomach on top of him. It was at this moment she realised the attire they both were in.

“Natsu..?” She whispered against his chest.

“Yeah?” Natsu had started rubbing his hand against her back in a repetitive motion. This time he was making sure she’d stay alive.

“Why are we naked?”

Natsu didn’t know if the sound he let out was a chuckle or a sob – perhaps a mix of both. It was such a relief to hear her worry about her usual things.

“Don’t ya’ worry ‘bout it,” he smiled, continuing to rub her back.

“Well that’s not suspicious,” she mumbled as she slowly fell back to sleep. This time it felt better for Natsu: her body was warmer, her arms were hugging him back, and now he knew any major damages could be disregarded.

That’s when he heard Happy let out a cry of joy, flying up to nuzzle against her cheek. "Lushy! You’re okay!"

Natsu hurried to push him away with a harsh “shh”. Happy would start an argument hadn’t he seen the corners of Lucy’s mouth curl into a soft smile, her eyes opening briefly to greet her feline friend. Her heart twinged at his tearful eyes, but she still managed to give him a playful blink. She wanted to assure him she’d be back to normal soon. Porlyusica stepped forward into the room, her expression as stern as ever, but a hint of relief apparent in her eyes.

"She’s not out of the woods yet. Keep her warm and let her rest. But this… this is a good sign."

Natsu nodded, his arms tightening protectively around Lucy. 

"Ya’ don’t gotta worry. I have her."

Lucy’s eyes drifted closed again, her breathing steadying as she slipped into a more peaceful sleep. Happy hugged her shoulder tightly. He was so relieved that she was okay. And Natsu? He was beyond relief. If he could, he would have cloned himself so one of his bodies could do a celebratory dance, meanwhile the other could stay here, holding her tight, making sure she could stay comfortable for as long as she needed. He didn’t know any cloning magic though, so he let his imaginary clone work the floor beside the bed while Porlyusica hurried around the two of them, counting Lucy’s heartbeat, drawing her blood for testing, checking her pupils for dilating. Despite the worrying things she was doing to her, Natsu managed to stay calm. Maybe it was the deep breaths he felt against his torso, or the tiny, almost invisible nudging Lucy did to get her body closer to his, but Natsu felt at peace.

Everything would be fine. He wouldn’t let her go:  not now – not ever.

[tikiki05]

I wonder if anyone else have thought of this but i can’t seem to see how gwen can be “doomed by the narrative” in ATSV, when i watched the movie her “in every other universe...” statement doesn’t really hold any substance to contribute to the doomed by the narrative trope to me. Since a lot of people say that gwen essentially falls for peter parker as a person, and that’s what i’m also getting from emma stone’s gwen. While they are arguably the same person but trying to apply that trope to miles just doesnt work since miles and peter are different people still. Then we also have that one comic where miles and gwen are married and she’s just fine?? So she’s not doomed at all not to mention that in the movie itself, they try to portray miles and gwen as “aggressively soulmates” so i can’t see how anything will go bad with these two.

Good evening and thank you for the ask!

Waaaaiit cause you’re actually cooking right now, there really is nothing to imply that she’s doomed by the narrative within this story or any other one!! You laid it all out perfectly, I really don’t have much to add. It just lends further to how the writers really screwed up by trying to force the romance between them (even though their “love” story was allegedly planned from the beginning)

The whole romance side of the plot just unravels more and more the further we dive into it on my page 😭

Thank you so so much for this ask and I hope you have a wonderful night!

[orchidego]

Miscommunication trope has become unfashionable to love but it’s easily my favorite. First of all. Mutual pining. Star-crossed morons. I can’t bear the alternative, really, which is an uneven amount of pining—I need them to be in equivalent headspaces, but narrative tension still needs to exist somehow. Second, this trope can be done extraordinarily well (how I know is I’ll usually have a bodily reaction—stomach swoop! reverberation in my chest!) which I suppose makes the badly done ones stand out.

Miscommunication or fear of communication happens all the time. It’s very true to life, even with people who are good communicators, but here the stakes are so high. This tension is where all that pleasure (for me, the reader) comes from.

Further, “just talk to each other” no. When the stakes are this high the communication deployed needs to be wielded like a scalpel. Delicate, precise, ….whatever. Or, an explosion. Something desperate. It’s not regular communication. It’s fraught with meaning. It matters more to them than it would to anyone outside the dynamic. The consequences of failure seem cataclysmic. Words fail. Words fail all the time. When you feel that much and you just can’t pin it down. See I’m already gearing up to pine. It’s that easy!!

[gghostwriter]

Camaraderie

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer and some unwanted guests catch you singing at a bad time Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.1k a/n: something short n’ sweet, get it? i know i said i was sick and I still am but i wanted to really write something based on this post so i did and since I’m still battling the flu, this isn’t my best work nor has this been edited but still posting it for the fun of it all! Hope you like it. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗

Spencer Reid was never one to forget. After all, his near perfect memory didn’t allow him to, which was a curse and a blessing on itself. So it came to everyone’s surprise when Morgan came strolling in the BAU office after hours to pick him and Luke up for a scheduled boys’ night out and the boy genius innocently asked what he was doing there.

“No way,” Morgan chuckled, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Pretty boy has forgotten something? It must be my lucky night ‘cause this only happens once in a lifetime.” 

“You really forgot?” Luke clarified as they all packed into Morgan’s four door vehicle. “Oh man, I thought you were pulling my leg a while ago when I brought it up and you made no comment.”

“It really slipped my mind!” Spencer’s voice going up in defense. 

The duo laughed. 

“Or maybe you’re getting old,” Morgan needled as the car came to a stop at a red light.

Spencer shook his head, wishing to drop the subject. “Hey, do you mind passing by the apartment for a bit? I didn’t tell her that I was going to be out late since it you know, slipped my mind—”

“Can’t you just text her for that?” Morgan argued back.

“—and I’ll drop off my dirty go bag.” 

“Oh got the missus doing the laundry?” Luke teased. 

“She’s not my wife yet,” he sighed dreamily. If he was going to be honest with himself, he was looking forward to it. He had half the mind to propose elopement when got down on one knee but the excitement you radiated off when discussing about themes, dinner placements, and the wedding gown was enough for him to dispose of that idea quickly. It didn’t matter how fancy or how long the planning would take, as long as at the end of it all, he got to call you his and you get to call him yours. Everything in between was just lavish wrapping to present the world Mr and Mrs Reid. 

The car came to a stop, bringing him out of his musings. 

“Thanks Morgan,” Spencer started to exit the passenger seat. “No need to go up, I’ll be quick.”

They both shook their heads, also stepping out—Morgan from the driver’s side and Luke from the side beside him.

“We’ll say hi to the future Mrs Reid,” he patted his back as the trio packed into the elevator up to his floor.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders in acceptance. With your busy work schedule and the upcoming nuptials, it was a rare occurrence for anyone from the team, expect for Garcia, to catch even a glimpse of you.

Echoing melody was the first thing that greeted them once they stepped out of the lifts. 

He laughed under his breath, already knowing that it was coming from the home you both shared. It had been a ritual for you, of sorts, as the only neighboring apartment was empty from tenants. There was really no one to scold you for making any ruckus at this acceptable 7pm time. Spencer, for one, wasn’t one to spoil your fun. He loved seeing you be free, dancing around in his clothing and singing the lyrics no matter how off key. 

Key slotted to the door, he let themselves in without any words exchanged—just looks and laughter under their breath.

—and I’m obsessed Are you free next week? I bet we’d have really good

Spencer admired your swaying form from behind. Wearing his Caltech tee that was three times too big for you, neckline slipping off to one shoulder. His very own personal sunshine chasing away all the darkness that had tainted his very being. 

Unaware of your audience, you belted out the next cheeky lyrics. “Come right on me, I mean camaraderie. Said you’re not in my—” 

Luke slapped his mouth to stop his chuckle from escaping while Morgan’s eyebrows raised at an all time high.

“Love,” Spencer urgently called out.

“—timezone, but you wanna be—eek!” You shrieked, turning to face the voice of your lover, only to find two more unaccounted for in the audience. 

“Hey pretty girl,” Morgan drawled out. “That’s some nice singing you’ve got there.” 

You felt your face flush with mortification. Out of all the people to have caught you, it had to be Morgan. The self titled big brother who liked to tease all he held dear to his heart. 

“W-what are you all doing here?”

Spencer reached out to give you chaste kiss on the lips. “We’re going out for a boys’ night out and I forgot all about it.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re all here exactly.”

“I was just going to drop off my dirty go bag and they wanted to say hi,” he smiled at the embarrassment he could clearly see written in your expressive face. 

But i bet we‘’d have really good bed chem How you pick me up, pull ‘em down, turn me ‘round Oh, it just makes sense How you talk so sweet when—

“Oh my god,” your feet pattering on the hardwood floor as you ran to stop the vinyl still playing in the background. “Not one word,” you threatened the duo with a finger raised up high.

They both raised their hands up in defense but mirth was clearly painted on their faces. This was definitely becoming a lethal ammo perfect for quips and teasing. 

“Okay, you three out,” you all but pushed them out to the lobby. “I need to bury myself in copious amount of wine and please, forget everything you saw, okay, and Spence—” you leaned in to give him a kiss goodbye and squeezed his hand that held yours. “—I’ll see you when you get back. Have fun!” 

The door slammed shut without another word uttered.

Morgan turned to Reid with a smirk on his lips. “So camaraderie, huh?”

“Shut up,” Spencer quipped back, giving him a slight shove towards the elevator.

But before he himself stepped into the awaiting lifts for a night of no doubt teasing and innuendos, Spencer sent a quick message back to his other half with cheeks red and a grin on his face.

Your wish is my command, love. Later. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[sinofwriting]

Sex Positive - Charles Leclerc

Words: 2,470 Summary: Y/N goes on a podcast to talk about one thing and one thing only, sex. Note(s): NSFW just because this is just all sex talk, no actual sex, but it is the main topic of discussion. Part SMAU

Masterlist | Support Me!

“Y/N Y/L/N”

She smiles at the sound of her name, adjusting her headphones a bit until they finally seem to sit snug on her head.

“Welcome to the sex positive podcast.”

“Thank you for having me!”

“Thank you for coming on!” Elaine says. “When I reached out, I had hoped you would come on, but was shocked when you said yes.”

“I had to come on. We’ve known each other now for like two years?” Elaine nods at her words. “And yet despite that and this podcast doing so well, which by the way congrats on the new milestone. 250k is insane, and your profession we’ve never once talked about sex.”

“We have not.” Elaine laughs. “Probably because we also run into each other at events and dinners. Not the best place for me to ask how you feel about sex.”

“Well, I should tell you, I am coming on here to actually talk about how much I hate sex.” She says, ending her sentence with an eye roll, as she adjusts how she’s sitting, not even noticing her cardigan slip.

“Oh, yeah.” Elaine nods. “You hate sex.” She then nods to her left shoulder and her eyes drop and she lets out a laugh, seeing the love bites now exposed from the cardigan slipping.

“Like I said, I hate it.” She laughs.

“How is your relationship with sex? I mean, what has your experience been with it?”

She considers for a moment, “I’d say I have a good relationship with sex. It was never a topic that was shied away from when I was younger. My parents both gave me the talk, they made sure that I felt safe and comfortable to talk to them about it. They also never shied away from talking about how they had sex before they were adults, so if I did, they understood. All they asked was that I was safe.”

“And you think that’s helped?”

“Of course.” She nods. “I mean, I was sixteen when I had sex for the first time. Which was before all my friends and after that I was the one my girl friends came to for condoms and advice.”

“Was it good?”

She makes a face, “I mean, I think it was as good as two sixteen-year-olds having sex for the first time can be. A little awkward, some fumbling, finishing so quick.”

Elaine laughs, “Y’know that probably is as good as it can get.”

“Yeah.” She laughs.

“Were you like okay, I had sex this first time, I’ve experienced it, I’m good, or was it like me where you wanted to explore more.”

“Oh, I wanted to explore more. I didn’t have sex again for, I think like another two years. But I did so much self exploring. Just trying to see what I liked, what I was interested in, what I wasn’t interested in.”

“Porn?”

“Yes, there was quite a large amount of porn being watched. I read a lot of adult novels, guides, blogs, really just anything I could get my hands on.”

Elaine nods, tucking a leg underneath herself as she adjusts the microphone to be a little closer. “And this is something I’m curious about, how do you feel about porn? It’s something a lot of people are divided on, a lot of women especially.”

“I like porn. I enjoy it. Either just watching for pleasure or for research.” And she puts the last word in air quotes. “And please people listening or watching, if you see something you like in porn or are interested in, and this applies if you are reading something as well, look it up, read some guides and blog posts about it before doing it yourself. Just be safe.”

“Oh, please be safe. We have our own blog where we talk about different kinks, positions, various things and I urge you, along with everyone else who works on this podcast, to be safe with yourself and others.” Elaine says, addressing the camera before looking back at her. “So, you like porn.”

“Yes. Obviously not all porn is good, there are bad studios, there are overdone tropes, issues with the industry itself with it continuing to promote certain things because it earns them so much money. But I do enjoy it. It’s an industry that is always going to get criticized and hated and it deserves some of those criticisms without a doubt.”

“As a sex therapist, I do try to veer my clients away from porn, most of the time. And that’s mainly due to the acting of it. But it has its place in helping you learn and educate yourself. My issue is when people only look at porn and don’t look into things further.”

“Yeah, a hundred percent. It’s so important to not just take away things from porn but to take things away and expand on what you saw.” She nods.

“And of course I have to ask, what do you yourself like to watch in porn?”

“Hmm.” She thinks. “I think it depends on my mood. I think what I normally go for is something a little more rough. I’ve never really enjoyed watching people have like slow, gentle sex, not unless there’s something else there like overstimulation.”

“So, you like it rough?” Elaine asks.

She laughs, “Yes. It wasn’t something I had ever tried out before though until my current partner.”

“Really?”

She nods, “Really! I can admit that with my current partner, Charles, is where I’ve done a lot of exploring with someone else sexually. We’ve tried out many things.”

“Anything you guys didn’t like?”

“We don’t care for titles or honorifics.”

“You are crushing some dreams with that statement.”

“I know.” She laughs, well aware of the many tweets and things about wanting to call Charles daddy or sir. But it was just something that didn’t work for them in bed. The most was sometimes as a tease, she’d call him Mr. Leclerc and that was mainly to wind him up, not because the word itself was a turn on.

“What about things you’ve both enjoyed?”

“Oh, where to begin.” She teases, the both of them laughing. “Roleplay is one, bondage, edging, overstimulation. And I don’t consider this sex, but it is something we both enjoy a lot, cock warming.”

“That is quite the list.”

“Oh, just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Talk me through some of it. Bondage?”

“Yes. This was something we both had come into the relationship having never done before and wanting to do. We have the actual like rope you're supposed to use for when we do it, though sometimes we have used other things.”

Elaine shakes her head, grinning. “Of course you two have. I feel like if I see you two together, you’re always attached.”

“Pretty much. We both enjoy touch and Charles, despite all the interest in his personal life and how much already is exposed to the public, doesn't mind holding my hand or hugging or kissing me while in public.”

“Was that a worry of yours?” Elaine asks.

“Absolutely.” She nods, fingers interlacing. “I knew he’d at least, when I went to my first race, that he’d hold my hand, but I figured that might be it. And I didn’t want to bring it up since me going to Baku was so last minute for the both of us.”

“I’ve seen photos from that race and I would have never guessed that it was a last minute decision or that you two hadn’t talked about that yet.”

“Yeah, I got on a plane and was there by 11pm on Wednesday night, and the plane tickets had gotten bought maybe six hours before the plane took off. Charles had to send a photo of my ID to the front desk and had a spare key for me waiting since he had to be asleep already.”

“And then the next day, I mean you guys were very loved up.”

She grins, “we very much were. I think Charles knew I was nervous. We hadn’t officially been spotted together and he’s such a comforting person, very calming, so it was easy to not feel anxious with him holding me and pressing a kiss to my cheek every few minutes as y’know a bunch of people were taking photos of me and I’m being introduced to about a hundred people.”

“Which is overwhelming to say the least.”

“So overwhelming.” She nods.

“Though you might’ve liked that, since you’ve brought up overstimulation a few times.”

Her hands come up to hide her face, laughing into them, before they fall back into her lap. “I’d apologize, but I like what I like.”

“So it’s you being overstimulated.”

“Oh, absolutely. I find it very enjoyable.”

“I’ve never actually really talked about overstimulation, what is that you like about it? That you find to be enjoyable?”

“It’s the near constant feeling of too much, it’s so much pleasure just back to back, and everything depending on how you're doing it, can feel just like raw? And exposed? And you don’t think you can orgasm one more time, you just can’t again, but then you can and it feels at least in my experience just so good and then you do it again and again, and every time the pleasure of it just washing over you is even more and more and it’s the only thing you can focus on, everything else just fades away.”

“You make me want to try it.” Elaine laughs.

—

Charles’ head immediately perks up when he hears the hotel door open. “Chérie! How was the podcast?”

She smiles, setting her bag down, before moving over to the couch where Charles is sitting and happily sitting in his lap before Charles can pull her down. “It was good.” She finally says after kissing him.

He hums, “How good?”

She thinks, playfully humming as her fingers run through his hair. “Very good. I think your fans will want to kill me and so will Ferrari.”

He frowns, arms tightening around her. “Ferrari knows that you are allowed to do as you’d like. It is not like with,” He stops himself.

“I know, Charles.” She soothes. “But, they will be upset with me considering me talking about my sex life is talking about your sex life.”

He huffs, obviously not liking it, but he hopes that the podcast will do well, be received well, so at least Ferrari will be forced to accept it because fans like it.

“Did you mention me?”

Her eyebrow raises, “No. I want on a podcast to talk about my sex life so you obviously didn’t come up.”

He pouts at the tease and she can’t resist pressing a kiss to his pouty lips.

“Yes, I mentioned you. Multiple times and by name.”

He hums, moving his hands under her cardigan and top. “What did you say?”

“That we’ve done a lot of things together. That we like certain things.”

When she had accepted the invite it was only after a long talk with Charles, one she had to force, to go over what she could and couldn’t mention. Charles had been fine with her mentioning whatever she wanted. Uncaring that it would be out for the world to see, his colleagues, friends, and even family if for some reason they decided to click on it. He had stuck by that after their talk, though had asked her to keep most of the details of their roleplay and their love of rough sex to a minimum.

And it had been easy to not talk about what kind of roleplay they did and while rough sex had been mentioned twice, they were brief, just establishing her love of it.

“It did make me want to roleplay our favorite thing again.”

His eyes light up at her words.

It wasn’t often something they did, their favorite roleplay scenario, not when it required her to be in a certain headspace to really work, but she wants and craves it so much.

“You want to be my innocent little girl?” His voice has a bit of rasp, his fingers resting on her back, stretching out.

“Yes.” She breathes.

He leans forward, giving her a hungry kiss, his and her last chance to lose control, before pulling away. “Go get ready for me, bébé. I’ll find a place to have dinner.”

---

[randomsufff]

You know what I really need in fanfics? More confession scenes where one person drops the confessions then runs, fast as fuck, in the other direction.

Like, obviously they’ll meet back up eventually and talk about it (which is hilarious in itself that they would have to sprint to catch up while yelling why they’re like this) , BUT THINK ABOUT IT!!! It 1) give the other person a chance to gather their thoughts so the person confessing doesn’t have to sit in anxious silence and 2) allows the confessor to get it over with quick and overcomes that anxiety over confessing. Also it’s just fucking hilarious.

Like imagine your fav paring or whatever, they get to that part where one (or both idk) realizes their feelings for the other but they’re just anxious to be vulnerable like that or they fear rejection, whatever. One of them suddenly goes, fuck it, and they turn to the other. (Maybe they’re on a sidewalk, maybe they’re in a park IDK endless possibilities here) and they go:

“ok I’m about to say something, it’s nothing bad (I hope) and I’m willing to talk about it after I say it. I’m 100% serious, this is really not a joke. But I’m going to say this and run to (relevant location). Ok? Ok…. Don’t freak out… iminlovewithyou” *Cue maniac SPRINTING as fast as humanly possible in the other direction* (Bro I’m cracking up just typing about this)

AND THEN!!! You get to chose how they react after a few stunned seconds. Do they sprint after them? Do they shout to bring their ass back over to them? Do they race like hell to beat the other at the determined location??? I don’t know, but it’s hilarious as fuck and can transition seamlessly into heartfelt feeling talk.

(Thinking about this with specific ships is funny as hell too)

Idk I think of more fics had this trope we could all have a grand ol silly time instead of accidentally speed reading through confession schemes because the stress is too much then having to go back and re-read it to fully process it, as one does. You know?

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

im curious, why do you like fiddlestan?

i like them in theory (all the pain potential, jeez!) but i feel like i'm missing something very obvious

Oh boy, you’re about to open pandoras box with this one -

I’ve liked fiddlestan for a LONG time, almost a decade now, (EXHIBIT A!!!), and honestly, I’ll admit that the ship is mostly based on speculation. So maybe you’re not missing something obvious, maybe I’m just delusional. I can’t speak for everyone, all I can do is explain why I like it: because it’s deeply rooted in several layers of irony. 

It’s ironic because fiddleford spent the better part of a YEAR dealing with fords nonsense. (And I KNOW, it’s not all bad, but really, especially if you read journal 3, that poor man was put through a LOT. He was definitely taken advantage of, at LEAST a little.) And after grappling with the acceptance that your longtime friend and unrequited love will never return your feelings, having lost the man to some crazy otherworldly nightmare machine, who shows up?? But his TWIN BROTHER who’s HUMBLE and KIND and TEN TIMES MORE DOWN TO EARTH?? It’s ironic, because they don’t know each other, yet they both have years of history with the same person who’s wronged them, and, they can make out about it!! THEY CAN FUCK TO SPITE HIM!! Stan stole his brothers name (and committed multiple crimes under said name), stole his house, and stole his research partner!! And… it's ironic because it’s Grunkle Stan and old man Mcgucket. That needs no elaboration.

(these are all my personal takes/headcanons! Like I said, this ship is based solely on interpretation, so I’m sure a lot of fiddlestanners like fiddauthor too. There’s like a billion different ways to interpret this ship.)

Also -

Their personalities are surprisingly similar when you stop and think about it!! You put those two in the same room, and they’d come up with some highly devilish scams together. They both have moral codes that are a little… ambiguous. And… I can’t believe I’m gonna pull this out as *canon fiddlestan documentation* but these are the kind of crumbs we’re working with here: MABELS DREAM IN THE SOCK OPERA CREDITS!!!! Although it’s not something that actually happened, and it’s just a reference to statler and waldorf, they are IN CHARACTER!! I think this is how they would actually act together if they were friends!! Just two old dudes, hanging out together watching tv, making fun of whatever they’re watching. If you’re in the room, you might get roasted too. Just a couple of old farts. It makes me so happy to think about. 

No fiddlestan rundown post would be complete without the fandoms EXTREME STRAW GRASP at Old Goldie and the Flame Retardant Raccoon. Soos calls mcgucket a “prospector guy,” amongst the other obvious comparisons you can make between fiddleford and goldie. Goldie is something stan used to like a long time ago, but he’s all old and fucked up now, best to throw him away and forget about it. BUT, as it turns out, there’s still good in that old thing after all. SO LETS GET MARRIED IN VEGAS!!!! It’s an extreme stretch, but… It’s a fiddlestan trope that they, at some point, have a crazy night of fun+romance in vegas together.  And I personally like to think that they return when they’re older+happy and tie the knot for reals. The raccoon speaks for itself - it’s one of the ways you can compare stan to a raccoon. And of course, mcgucket's raccoon wife. 

This is where it starts to get a little angsty, and if you “get all the pain potential” then you may have already given this some thought - but why does stan treat fiddleford the way he does if they used to love each other? The whole “UGH, this guy” comment in land before swine, looking all uncomfortable around him in fight fighters, choosing the spot furthest from where mcgucket lotions himself at the pool, and the “possum breath” comment in the last episode (and fiddleford actually has the mental clarity to look perturbed after he says it). Stan is hurt!!! He’s upset!! If they used to be a Thing after the portal incident, something must have happened between them for fiddlefords mental illness to get the better of him, and for him to choose to erase both stan and ford from his memories. I, personally, think that it was deep rooted internal homophobia (being raised in the south, that runs deep), and being scared for getting too close to stan. They were getting too comfortable, and that scared him. What about his family? And tate? His son can never meet stan. He can never let his wife know. And all the paranormal fuckery incidents leading up to this that already weakened his mental state, the portal incident, already having zapped his brain a few times, would have sent him over the edge. So I’m thinking they would have gotten into a fight of some kind, and fiddleford would have stormed off. Thus leaving stan having to live in a town with the person he USED to love, who doesn’t remember him at all!!! What!!!!! That sucks!!!! Only upside to fiddlefords memory erasure is that it makes it easier for stan to pretend nothing ever happened. But it’s still not easy. Also, if word ever got out that old man mcgucket used to be his boyfriend, he would never be able to live it down. So he compensates by being an ass towards him. Fuck. 

But then!! If fiddleford has the chance to heal!!! (say… maybe… when the twins are on the stan o war II) then stan would come back to gravity falls and see fiddleford looking like the person he knew thirty years ago!!!! WHAT!?!?! CAN’T RUN FROM YOUR PAST FOREVER, CAN YOU!?!?! And you KNOW fiddleford would remember what happened with stan. How long can stan keep himself in denial?? And now we’re opening up the can of worms: how the FUCK does this information reach ford?? That your brother used to canoodle with your research partner and might STILL BE?? That has so much potential too. 

Ok I wasn’t expecting to write those last two paragraphs but it’s A BIG PART OF WHY I LOVE FIDDLESTAN!!! It’s a crazy fucking rollercoaster ride!!! This thing has so many angles!!! And that’s just MY fiddlestan interpretation - I’ve seen a lot of different takes on the sort of story that would transpire between these two. But no matter what you’re cooking, It’s always a LOT. 

There’s probably so so much I didn’t touch on here. If anyone else wants to throw in their two cents as to why they like fiddlestan, please, add something!!!

[amourdyke]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ✷ 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄 𝐋𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐄

pjo fanfiction 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐚 𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✷ your father wouldn’t approve of how my mother raised me but i do i think i do, and you’re an all-american girl i guess i couldn’t help trying to be your best american girl ✷ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ooc clarisse, aphrodite’s daughter reader, fake dating, angst and pining

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

The words escaped her mouth before she could fully comprehend what was happening. Big bad Clarisse La Rue with a temper to mimic boiling water and the fight skills to ward off teasing has finally been a victim to it irredeemably as lies slipped past her lips spontaneously, unthinking.

“You had a girlfriend this whole time and none of us knew? Yeah, right, Clarisse, you’re full of shit”

“She used to date a Hephaestus chick, alright? Didn’t want anyone pointing out the whole history repeating itself trope of Aphrodite and Ares” A part of her is proud of her trope, a child of Apollo worthy storyline invented last minute, it seemed to not occur to her the way specifics would bite her in the ass until her sibling’s eyes sparkled mischievously, pointing towards the other end of the bonfire at a female figure she had not seen before, though apparently the only one who seemed to match characteristics.

“You mean to say you’re dating angel face over there?”

Your eyes caught hers for the first time in that moment, setting ablaze something at the pit of her stomach that had seemed to lay dormant far too long, hence the beginning of the relentless conversation she found herself in in the first place. “Yeah, that’s her, my girl” she concurs, taking a sip of her drink and staring off into your figure like a predator.

You first met Tori before you were claimed. She would sneak into the Hermes cabin to give you midnight kisses and hide freshly made jewellery she forged instead of armour under your pillow for surprises, adorning your neck in both purple bruises and metal chains, her own special claim on you. Until your mother showed face. It burned you to remember how she spoke, as though not knowing you, like Aphrodite you must be your mother’s daughter. A cheater, she meant. You still dreamed that your only claim was Tori’s kisses and necklaces on days like these where you watched her by the bonfire avoid your every glimpse.

And then someone’s grip is on your arm.

“I wonder what could the most infamous child of Ares possibly want with me” She raises her eyebrows at the nickname from you, someone she had not acknowledged nor recognized before today though the opposite could clearly not be said, the beginning of a smirk ghosting over her features.

“Is that what I am?”

“Don’t play dumb, Clarisse, it’s not your best look, you know exactly what you are, it’s your charm, that is if you’re into the whole bully chic thing”

“I need a favour from you” She wastes no time and you scoff in response, your eyes still seeking out Tori, anxiously hoping she does not see any of this interaction as to not play out scenarios in her head. Clarisse takes none of it. She grabs you by the chin, in a firm yet surprisingly careful hold and forces you to face her, wide brown eyes with a beauty you hadn’t quite recollected before seeing its warm specks up close like firecrackers trapped behind her irises. You shake off the thought and cross your arms.

“Why would I do you any favours? I bet you don’t even know my name, hell, I bet you don’t even know who I am in general–”

“You’re my girlfriend”

“I beg your pardon?” You nearly choke and Clarisse laughs.

“I’ve been watching you. You’ve been staring at that raven haired Hephaestus girl for the last forty minutes uninterrupted while I can quite easily point out at least six girls who have been drooling to get your attention in the last sixty and you haven’t even spared them a pity glance, so I’m going to guess that’s your ex?”

“What does that have to do with anything besides the fact you’re apparently a fucking stalker?”

“Feisty, angel face” She snarks “I need a girlfriend to get some people off my back for awhile and you apparently want your ex back, so why don’t you use that tiny love focused brain of yours and think for two seconds what makes someone temporarily lose their senses and say, get back together with their ex?”

“You want me to use you to make Tori jealous?”

“Do you really have anything to lose?”

You watch her train, that’s your first date, and it starts off as uninteresting as you guessed it would be. Until she’s flexing a little too much, and you’re catching on, of course, but it’s working, because you’re suddenly focused, mouth agape as she lifts up her shirt exposing her perfectly sculpted abdomen to clean sweat off her forehead with the orange cloth.

“Having fun gawking?” She teases.

“Isn’t that what you brought me here for?”

Clarisse twists her spear around in the air and finally settles it behind her flexed arms, moving towards you as she looks around the training grounds for something, eyes sparkling at the sight of a similar weapon to hers “You know how to fight, angel face?”

“I’m a demigod, Clarisse” She feigns fright at your words before rolling her eyes and moves to throw the spare spear towards you, which you take in hands overwhelmed. She steps back and motions you forward which for whatever reason you comply, before you know it her breath is hot on your neck, a whisper: “Your little ex is watching”

She wasn’t entirely truthful. Tori was there, but she barely spared you a glance. Clarisse’s siblings however watched her every move, and she was preparing a spectacle. Positioning herself behind you, hands on your waist as to fix your stance, she dismissed the way her fingers seemed to physically burn at the sensation of your skin desperately seeking out to touch you more and focused on pointing your aim at the dummy before you. It strikes him right in the heart first try and falls backwards on itself. You’re beaming. Clarisse’s chest squeezes. She forgets to let go of your love handles until you turn around.

“You look pretty when you’re deadly” She casually lets out, a sigh.

“Did Tori see your hands on me?” You look around, an attempt at casually catching your exes eye. You miss the way Clarisse frowns when she agrees nonchalantly. One of her siblings winks, she thinks to herself this was too much trouble.

“Okay I think that’s enough performing for a day”

“You’ll hurt me this way, princess. Can’t stand me that much? I don’t get it, did I dunk one of your friends on the toilet or something?”

“I don’t understand”

“Playing dumb isn’t your look either” Clarisse mimics your first encounter as she stares daggers at you. She looks like she could see right through your soul and it sends shivers down your spine.

“You really don’t remember me, huh?” You scoff, and Clarisse is furrowing her brows and attempting to dive into her memory but you’re quicker to refresh it “My first year here I was like a lost and kicked puppy. And you were the girl who killed the monster who nearly killed me and actually killed my satyr protector. I guess it was just another day for you but it was my worst nightmare and you were a fucking knight in shining armor, I thought so anyways. I followed you around for months, and what does it say that you didn’t even know my name until two days ago? You are probably the one most self centered person I have ever met and I was a stupid little girl with a crush who thought you could save me while you actively terrorised everyone who was nice to you. Including me. And you don’t even remember taunting me, because it was just another fucking wednesday. So maybe I’m not enthusiastic about playing your girlfriend for longer than I have to”

It suddenly dawns on her, the memory of you. You looked different now, she guessed those were some perks of growing up as an Aphrodite kid but staring at your face, hurt expression, made the resemblance uncanny. To the one person she regretted hurting. She had just lost a fight and you had ran after her for comfort, but Ares had seen it. So there was nothing you could say. She wanted someone to hurt like she was hurting as though it would take her own pain away. She lost the fucking fight because she looked for you in the audience as she was winning. Affection made her weak. She made you pay for it.

“You called me a stupid girl who doesn’t know when to leave people alone and that’s why no one could stand me. Ring a bell?” You turned around to leave when Clarisse was silent. She surprised herself when she spoke up.

“Well let me teach you to hate me less!” She called out, running her hand through her curls frantically “We can’t do this if you don’t stand the sight of me, my siblings won’t buy it, your ex girlfriend who knows you certainly won’t either. Let’s go out and talk and maybe you’ll like something about me, I don’t know”

“Why does it matter so much to you that you have a girlfriend? Why do your siblings care? Answer me this and I might go with you”

“Fucking Gods, you’re insufferable” She mutters “Because I’m tired of being the one with no life, okay? All I have is training, and everyone knows that and I hate when they start worrying so I need anything to ward it off and I guess relationship maybe screams reason to live and not dying to be a war martyr so this is what I got, okay? It’s stupid, but it’s what I got”

“Alright”

“Alright?”

“I’ll try to like you, Clarisse”

She leads you to the forest in the middle of the night as to not alert anyone. The moon is full and it lights up her face in a way that softens her usually rough features. It is strange how your hands meet eachothers halfway in a hold until you reach your destination, a lake surrounded by flowers. You’re taking off your clothes, stripping into underwear before Clarisse could even fully process it, her eyes widening at the sight of your unbuttoning jeans reaching your calves, then the floor.

“Aren’t you coming?” You say as you stumble into the water. She watches you, the same way she had at the bonfire, and feels guilt pool at her throat for the way she gazed at your body. Clarisse wants to put a word to her feeling and all that comes to mind is hungry. She feels hungry. Like she could bite into your skin and tarnish its softness, like she needs to.

She takes off her clothes as well, skin still hot despite the cold air embracing her suddenly. You watch her too, she notices. Though she can’t pinpoint the look in your eye as she walks into the lake and heads towards you, stopping until your chests barely touch. There’s unusual heavy breathing from the both of you, hypnotised. You’re sure you won’t speak of it tomorrow.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m trying to find things to like about you, work with me here”

“I like red. Like blood”

“Like love” Clarisse doesn’t bother to reply to your argument, but it makes a part of her shake. War and romance unfortunately have too many things in common, she notes to herself.

“My turn. Why do you want your ex back?”

“Because she was good to me. She was kind and soft and she liked me. I miss feeling like someone cares like that”

“Aren’t you Aphrodite’s daughter? Doesn’t that sound a little like the bare minimum? She’s good to you? She’s kind? Didn’t she stop being those things when it ended?”

“You don’t know anything about relationships, Clarisse, you’ve never had one. I’m difficult, I’m a cheater’s kid, I’m–”

“You’re beautiful. Breathtaking, like your mom. Maybe that’s the only thing you got from her. You can aim. You’re strong. You’re apparently vengeful at least towards me which in my books is an attractive quality, you’re witty and you get little crinkles around your eyes when you laugh. I’m going to guess you didn’t cheat on that ex of yours so you’re not an asshole, for sure not a cheater. You give people chances when they don’t deserve it. I’m not quite following what could be so damn difficult about you”

You stay silent for awhile. Thinking. She hates herself for not knowing what it is that you think, and regrets saying so many things in your quietness. Then you whisper something she doesn’t catch and she asks you to say it again and in clear noise it sounds as shocking as it did when she first thought to have tricked her ears: “You never had a relationship, have you ever been kissed?”

Clarisse shakes her head no.

“Can I kiss you?” You correct yourself as you lean in, placing a curl behind her ear “Just in case we need to do this in front of your siblings or Tori, so we’re ready”

“Right” Clarisse mumbles as her hands snake her way around your waist pulling your body closer to fully press against hers “Just in case” she finishes whispering before her lips finds yours. There’s more desire than you both thought there would be. It’s desperate. Messy. Tongues clashing and chests heaving. She wants to taste you forever. She thinks she’s screwed.

[seobstarr]

Eternal Sunshine

pairing!: Non idol!Sunghoon x fem reader

genre!: angst, a little nostalgia, and a pinch of fluff that you’d have to use a magnifying glass to see it.

trope!: second chance

prompt!: After a bad argument that resulted in sunghoon angrily racing out of your apartment, he begins to worry about you when you don’t respond to any of his messages the following days after the fallout. When he figures out that you’ve decided to erase him from your mind forever, he makes it his mission to get to you before it’s too late.

warnings!: profanity, arugements, breakups, crying, descriptive writing panic attacks, mentions of disassociation

songs!: eternal sunshine- ariana grande, imperfect for you- ariana grande, talk- beabadoobee, saturn- SZA

Sunghoon hadn’t known how they had gotten to where they were.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows in the living room. The couple both stood on opposite sides of the room, their faces flushed with frustration and anger and the remnants of their latest argument hung in the air casting a palpable tension between them.

"This isn't working, Sunghoon!" Y/N exclaimed, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation, her heart aching with words unsaid; unable to say under the daunting cold stare of her longtime boyfriend

"We can't keep doing this. We can't keep hurting each other like this."

Sunghoon ran a hand through his brown hair, his eyes darkened with frustration. "And whose fault is that, Y/N? You're the one who always picks fights over every little thing. You’re insufferable!" Y/N knew that Sunghoon was sometimes like this. After a year of dating, of intimate moments and arguments like this she had known what Sunghoon had up his sleeve and in his books.

Sometimes unreasonable, like a rampaging ape, he would make no room for explanation or justice. Y/N flinched at his words, her eyes widening in hurt and discomfort. "Insufferable? Is that really what you think of me?"

Sunghoon threw his hands up in exasperation. "You never listen! Every time we have a problem, you just keep pushing and pushing until I can’t take it anymore. It's like you enjoy making things difficult. Like you get some sick pleasure out of seeing me frust"

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, her voice breaking up at the sound of sunghoons words. Her heart had filled itself with somewhat of a burning esaperated ache, sending signals to the waterline of her eyeballs "I push because I care, Sunghoon. I push because I want us to work, because I want us to be better. I push because I know you won’t and I know you’ll return to loving me like you didn’t do something that hurt me. But it feels like you’ve given up."

Sunghoon shook his head, his voice softer but no less intense. "I haven’t given up, Y/N. But I’m exhausted. I’m tired of feeling like nothing I do is ever enough for you." The words hung between them, the weight of them sinking in. Everything sunghoon did was enough for her. All the times he had cared for her, had sat beside her in silence; just for company reasons, the sick days they had spent together. Everything that Sunghoon does, even if it’s just standing in the middle of a room, was more than y/n couldve asked for.

After a long stale silence Y/N took a step back, crossing her arms as if to protect herself from the sting of his words. "So what are you saying? That you don't love me anymore?" Sunghoon's face softened, a flicker of regret in his eyes. "I do love you, Y/N. But sometimes, love isn't enough. Sometimes, we just aren’t good for each other." Y/N felt a tear slide down her cheek, her heart breaking at the realization of his words. "So this is it, then? This is how it ends?" Again there was a silence, the cars outside the open window on the busy street seemed to echo in the darkened apartment.

Sunghoon's shoulders slumped, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. After a breath to calm him down he began to speak "Y/N—”

Y/N swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. "Maybe you're right. Maybe... maybe we need to let go."

The silence that followed was deafening, both of them absorbing the finality of their choice as Y/N spoke with a firm halted voice; the lump of sobs in her throat beckoning to come out. Y/N felt a hollow ache in her chest, the pain of losing someone she once believed was her forever. Loosing someone who she had thought would be the last person she’d see when the light had left her eyes. Sunghoon took a step towards the door, hesitating for a moment. His hand laid on the handle and without saying another word he walked out unable to make sense of the situation. Y/N nodded to herself as she watched as Sunghoon leave, the door closing behind him with a quiet click that echoed throughout the empty room.

The sobs that had been threatening her came out distant, almost as if it had escaped her throat without permission. The weight of the moment hung heavy in the air, pressing down on her chest like a boulder, making it hard to breathe.

A numbness creeped into her limbs, spreading slowly, paralyzing her. Her mind raced, replaying every word of their conversation, every painful syllable that had led to this moment. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor, the cool wood pressing against her skin through the thin fabric of her pants. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold in the pieces that felt like they were falling apart, trying to desperately hold the remaining lingering touches he left on her in the previous days.

Her heart pounded erratically, each beat a painful reminder of what she had lost. She had never known that a heart could physically ache, but now as it did, she understood every clichéd song, every poem, every tear-stained line about heartbreak. She squeezed her eyes shut, but that only made the tears spill over, hot and relentless, carving paths down her cheeks. She tried to wipe them away, but they just kept coming, an endless stream of sorrow that she couldn’t stop. Her mind flitted back to the good times, the laughter, the shared secrets, the warmth of his touch, the whisperings of sweet nothings as they laid beneath the sunday morning sun. She remembered the way his eyes would light up when he saw her, the way his arms felt like home. Now, every happy moment seemed like a cruel joke, a setup for the devastating situation she was presented with.

The hours passed in a blur of tears and pain, the world outside moving on while hers stood still. Every sound seemed too loud, every shadow too dark, every breath too hard. She dragged herself to bed, curling up under the blankets that still smelled like him. and his softly fragrant cologne. She buried her face in his pillow and had shared her tears with the white satin cover. Her silent sobs continued until her body was exhausted and as she drifted into a restless sleep, the playful memories of Sunghoon and her faded in and out of her head.

Sunghoon had hated this distance. In the three weeks they had been apart, his body seemed to ache for her. His restless sleep seemed to take the form of the dark bags under his eyes and every night was a struggle, his mind replaying their last argument, the hurt in her eyes, the choked down shaker voice that she presented to him and the words he wished he could take back. The words he wished she had taken back. He had been stubborn, prideful, and now he was paying the price for it.

He wandered through his apartment, each corner filled with memories of her. The couch where they had spent countless evenings watching movies, her head resting on his shoulder. The kitchen, where they had danced to old songs while cooking dinner, laughing when they inevitably messed up the recipe. The bed they had shared, where they whispered secrets and dreams to each other in the quiet moments before sleep.

Sunghoon picked up his phone, scrolling through their old messages, his heart clenching with each sweet word and shared joke. He remembered their first date, the nervous excitement as they sat across from each other at a small café, sipping on coffee and talking for hours. He had been captivated by her smile, the way she lit up when she talked about her passions. They had walked along the river afterward, hands brushing until he finally gathered the courage to hold hers. It had felt like the beginning of something magical.

He closed his eyes, letting the memories wash over him. The weekend getaway to the mountains, where they hiked during the day and cuddled by the fire at night. The spontaneous road trip to the beach, where they played in the waves and collected seashells. Every moment had been perfect, every experience richer because she was by his side.

Sunghoon’s chest tightened as he thought about the night of their argument. He had been so frustrated, the stress from work boiling over into their conversation. He had said things he didn’t mean, his anger masking his love for her. He had seen the hurt in her eyes, the way she had tried to hold back tears. He wanted to reach out, to pull her into his arms and apologize, but his pride had held him back. Instead, he had walked away cowardly, the silence between them heavy and oppressive.

Now, he regretted every word, every moment of stubborn silence. He missed her laugh, the way her eyes sparkled when she was excited, the feeling of her hand in his. He missed the way she understood him, sometimes better than he understood himself. Without her, everything felt dull and lifeless. The world seemed less vibrant, the colors muted.

Sunghoon sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew he had to make things right. He couldn’t bear this distance any longer, couldn’t stand the thought of living without her. He grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. He knew she wouldn't dare be at her own apartment, that wasn’t like his lover he knew. He knew she had to be out, maybe working extra hours at the local library or even at the mall to distract her from the feelings that ached her at night. He would need to go talk to her two friends if he wanted an exact location.

As he walked, he thought about all the things he would say. He would tell her how much he missed her, how every moment without her felt like an eternity when he did find her.

The streets were quiet, the evening air cool against his skin. Sunghoon’s heart pounded in his chest, a mix of fear and hope. When he finally reached the rented building of her friends, he paused, taking a deep breath before knocking.

Jake answered, his expression immediately turning wary when he saw Sunghoon. “Sunghoon?”

“I need to talk to you guys about Y/N,” Sunghoon said, trying to keep his voice steady. Jake stepped aside reluctantly, allowing Sunghoon to enter. Isa was sitting on the couch, and she looked up with a frown as he walked in.

“Sunghoon, this isn’t a good time,” Isa said, her voice tinged with frustration.

“I know you’re not happy to see me,” Sunghoon began, “but I need to find her. It’s important.”

Jake crossed his arms, standing protectively by Isa. “She doesn’t want to see you, Sunghoon. You need to respect that.”

“I get that I messed up,” Sunghoon said, his frustration bubbling up. “But I need to talk to her, to make things right. Please, just tell me where she is.” Isa and Jake exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them then finally, Isa sighed and looked back at Sunghoon, her eyes filled with a mix of pity and anger.

“She’s trying to move on, Sunghoon,” Isa said firmly. “You need to let her go.” Sunghoon had saw the worried stare they had held between eachother and a strong uneasy feeling washed over him, his patience wearing thin. “You’re hiding something, i see it. I’m not here to play mind games, i’m here to figure out where my girlfriend is” He urged. Isa and Jake sighed before Isa had opened the little cabinet below the coffee table, pulling out an envelope and handing it to the taller in front of her.

“we got this in the mail yesterday," Jake said, breaking the awkward silence as Sunghoon examined the envelope. Sunghoon sat in disbelief as he stared at the envelope his friends had just handed him. It was plain and unassuming, yet Sunghoon had a sinking feeling that whatever was inside would change everything.

"What is this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He was frozen from fear, and the feeling of impending doom that washed over him, His hands tremble over the open slit that was already made by the two who sat in front of him. “I…I can’t open it.” It was getting harder to breathe. The tension in the room grew thicker. Isa’s face softened with sadness, and she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. Jake stepped forward, his expression grim.

“She’s…she’s erasing you, Sunghoon,” Jake said quietly. The words hit Sunghoon like a punch to the gut. “What do you mean, erasing me?” disbelief painted his mouth thickly, like oil paint. “She went to a clinic,” Jake explained, his voice heavy. “They specialize in erasing memories of someone the client wants gone. She’s trying to forget you, Sunghoon.” He finished and Sunghoons stomach twisted inward, his throat holding back the nausea he’d experience.

In almost a second his eyes dart down to the document that explained the procedure and the precautions necessary to find the shipping address below the signature “Sunghoon…” Isa tried to explain, maneuvering the blanket that covered her lap to stand up. But Sunghoon wasn’t listening, her words like fuzz bled into his ears. The surrounding areas around him had became almost uncannily non-existent and the envelope in his hand had became moist from the sweat his palms had produced. A piercing continuous beep had replaced the muffled voices of jake and isa and the tv that sat in front of the three for background noise, all he could think about was her.

About the procedure, about the feelings her would forget when it was said and done. Jakes hand had snapped him out of the reeling disassociation his mind had made him experience “Are you alright?” Jake had asked worryingly, but Sunghoon just replied in a cough and without another word, he bolted out of the apartment, his heart racing. He had to reach her before it was too late.

Sunghoon stood outside the clinic, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He had run the entire way, his mind racing with disbelief and desperation.

The clinic loomed in front of him, its sterile facade a stark contrast to the chaos inside his heart. He pushed through the double doors, his eyes scanning the waiting room frantically, barely taking in his surroundings as he made his way to the reception desk. “I’m looking for Y/N L/N” he said breathlessly. “Please, I need to see her.”

The receptionist looked up, her expression professional but slightly wary. Her hesitation became greatly known to Sunghoon fast. He knew he looked crazy, almost insane by the way the older womens eyes dialated with fear. His hair had been disheveled and the cold crisp air of winter had painted his nose a bright Rudolph red from all the running he did “I’m sorry, sir, but—”

“Please,” Sunghoon interrupted, his voice cracking. Something in his desperation must have reached her, because she nodded slowly. “She’s in Room 3” Sunghoon sprinted down the hall, his footsteps echoing loudly. He reached the first floor to where “room 3” was plastered in bold font on a hanging sleek sign and took another 4 big strides before throwing the door open, his eyes landing on Y/N, who was lying on a reclined chair, electrodes attached to her temples.

“Stop!” he shouted, rushing to her side. The technician operating the machine paused, startled by the sudden intrusion “You cannot be back here!” Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, confusion and sadness swirling in them as she looked at him. “Sunghoon?” He closed the distance between them without a second thought and in a few strides his chest was heaving. "I know what you're about to do. Please, don't go through with this."

Y/N’s gaze hardened, a protective shell forming around her vulnerability. "Why do you care, Sunghoon? You said it yourself—sometimes love isn’t enough." Sunghoon’s face contorts with regret. "I know what I said, and I was wrong. I was angry and frustrated, but that doesn’t mean i should’ve treated you like that. Please, let’s talk about this."

Y/N shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. "Talking isn’t going to fix this. We’re broken, Sunghoon. We hurt each other too much."

He reached out, his hand trembling as it cupped Y/N’s cheek. "We can try to fix it. We can learn from our mistakes. But erasing me, erasing us—it won’t solve anything. It’ll just leave us emptier than before."

Y/N closes her eyes, leaning into his touch despite the almost burning frustration she felt from doing so. "I can’t keep living with this pain. Every memory, every moment we shared, it’s like a sword had punctured my lung."

Sunghoon’s voice cracked, desperation seeping into his words. "If you do this, we’ll lose everything. The good memories, the laughter, the love. Please, Y/N, don’t let go of us this way." She took a deep breath, her voice trembling. "What if it’s too late? What if we can’t fix this? What if you can’t forgive me for doing this?"

Sunghoon shook his head, his grip on her hand tightening. "I would never hold this against you, you’re vulnerable Y/N, I would never take advantage of you like this. It’s never too late. We can start over, we can rebuild. But we need to do it together. Don’t, Y/N. Please.” Y/N looked between Sunghoon and the panicked doctor who was on the phone with security, wastefully debating between the comfort of forgetting and the pain of holding on.

Sunghoon's footsteps echoed softly on the deserted platform, the early morning mist curling around his ankles in a cooling breeze. He adjusted his scarf, trying to fend off the biting chill of the ghostly morning, and scanned the horizon for the first hint of dawn. He loved these quiet moments, when the world still asleep, it coddled him in a warm sense of possibilities. But today, an uneasy feeling gnawed at his usually calm demeanor, something the train platform rarely gave him.

Y/N stood at the other end of the platform, her breath forming small clouds in the frosty air as she tried to find comfort in the cold crisp air. She shoved her hands deeper into her coat pockets, seeking warmth and comfort. The train station felt like a ghost town, a stark contrast to the noisy chaos that usually accompanied her mornings.

Both of their eyes met across the platform, and for a split second, time seemed to freeze. There was something eerily familiar in Sunghoon's impatient colding gaze, something that tugged at the edges of Y/N's memory. But before she could dwell on it, the loudspeaker crackled to life, announcing the arrival of the next train.

Sunghoon hesitated, then took a step toward Y/N, meeting her in the middle of the trains inside "Hey," he said, his voice sounding strangely loud in the quiet almost empty train. "Do I know you?"

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. "I... I don't think so," she replied, though uncertainty laced her words. "But you seem familiar. Have we met before?"

Sunghoon frowned, searching his mind for any recollection but no memories had seemed to reenter his consciousness. "I don't think so. But... I have this weird feeling that we have. Maybe in another life or something."

Y/N chuckled, a soft, wistful sound. "Yeah, maybe. Or maybe we're just two strangers on the same train." She joked, earning a small laugh from the taller.

footnotes!.

keb notes!: HEYYYY SO LIKEE…I do not like this piece at all lolz 😆. I feel like it was rushed even though i spent 2 months on it, the formatting is off and most of all, i honestly just feel like i did an ASS job at writing this whole thing but i love ariana grande so i had to put this out there..also…MY ASS DID NOT GRAMMAR CHECK THIS SSORRRYYY😭😭

if you couldn’t tell this us based off of the 2004 movie “Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind” it’s honestly one of my favorite movies and when one of my favorite artists made a song referencing the movie in her music video i knew i had to write something ab it lol😭

This is also my first ever enhypen fic on tumblr!! I’ll be posting a jake fluff to compensate for this fic tho…

[allisluv]

[post-war] johanna w an s/o that became attached to a stray cat that's absolutely disgusting, like matted fur, fleas and ticks, starving, sick, and smelly.

johanna won't let her girlfriend bring it inside so her girlfriend is outside during the cold winter feeding and trying to nuture this cat back to health.

one day, reader goes out to check on the cat and can't find it. she gets super worked up and runs back inside to find jo, to tell her the sad news, but she finds jo leaning over the bathtub, her front half soaked with bath water, as she's trying to wash this cat..

roscoe.

pairing: johanna mason x fem!reader

content warnings: pre-established relationship, set post war, jo hates animals cause of a bad experience, use of petnames (doll, babe, baby), chiwawa slander (sorry!), strong language but that's not new, a bit of grumpy x sunshine because i love that trope!!

word count: 0.9k

Johanna has never been an animal person. Well, no, that is a bit of a lie. Correction; she has never been an animal person since she was attacked by a bastard of a chiwawa at the tender age of six. Rocky has since given her a very personal vendetta against animals big and small. 

So, in the early days after the war, when you come home with a stray cat that you have christened Roscoe, she has a big problem with it. It’s obvious to anyone with a brain that Johanna loves you. In fact, she would even go as far as to say she loves you more than life itself. But when it comes to animals, especially evil things like cats, that is where she draws the line. 

She puts a good three feet between the two of you when she sees the cat in your arms. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she tries to keep her temper in check. “Doll, that… thing is not staying in the house.”

You frown and immediately start protesting. “But I’ve given him a name and all!”

Johanna huffs out a sigh. “Babe, I don’t care if you’ve bought the thing a birth certificate, it is not staying in the house.”

“Why the hell not?” 

She arches a brow, giving you a disapproving look as if the answer is clear. “Well, for starters, his fur is matted beyond belief. It’s all skin and bones, too. I bet it’ll die in a week.” 

“Jo! Don’t be mean.” You scold, holding the cat close to your chest. “Don’t listen to your mom, Roscoe. Shes just being cranky.” 

Johanna rolls her eyes. “I am not that cat’s mom. And you know I’m telling the truth, babe.” 

You shoot her a glare. “Poor thing was left here all on its own after the bombings. He must have been scared by all of the noise.” You smooth underneath Roscoe’s chin and he purrs in response. “Look, he likes me!”

She groans. “Babe, you know I’d give you the world if you asked me to, but that thing is not gonna last a week. You shouldn’t get attached to it.”

You wave a dismissive hand. “He’ll be fine. Remind me to pick up some milk for him in the markets. Dyou think he’ll eat tuna?” 

“Doll-, Remi—”

“Roscoe.”

“Remi, Roscoe, Riley, whatever you’ve called him, is going right back outside.”

“But—”

“Now, baby.”

You sigh. Maybe Johanna has a pint in some ways, but you can’t help but feel awful as you put Roscoe back out the front door and watch him bound away down the half- repaired street. 

Johanna walks up behind you and wraps her arms around your waist, resting her chin on the top of your head. “Do you know cats can fend for themselves?”

“Its still not fair. He’s only a baby, Jo.” You sigh, melting into her touch when she presses a kiss to your head. “‘M mad at you now.”

Johanna resists the urge to laugh. You’re far too kind for your own good. “Would you feel better if we made some of those cookies I know you like?” 

You try to stay mad at her, but the offer is too appealing to pass up. “Fine. But only if you do all the work. And I am still buying him fish and milk.” 

“Whatever you want, angel. But he’s not coming back in to the house. He could have fleas or something.”

“You have fleas,” You murmur. 

Johanna laughs. “Oi. Watch it or you won’t get any cookies.” 

✩──────────✩─────────✩

As the months pass by, Roscoe comes to your front door at seven o’clock in the morning and evening every day for his dinner. Despite Johanna’s insistence that he’s not allowed in the house, she doesnt try to stop you from taking care of him, so long as you’re outside. 

It begins to get colder and one day, you come home from the marketplace with a carton of milk and a metal can of tuna in your hands. You pour both of them into the bowls by your front door and wait, rocking on the balls of your feet. 

It’s not unusual for Roscoe to come and go as he pleases, but when you’ve been outside for an hour and he doesn’t make an appearance, worry starts to gnaw at your gut.

You slip back into the house and do the only thing you can think of. “Jo?!”

You can hear Johanna hiss in pain and curse underneath her breath from inside the bathroom. Your brows furrow and you follow the noise, noticing the high-pitched mewl that comes from behind the door. You breathe out a sigh of relief and push open the door, only to become even more puzzled, 

Johanna’s hunched over the bath, holding Roscoe with one hand and using a jug to pour water over him with the other. 

“Are you drowning him?” You squeal, rushing to her side.

Johanna laughs at that. “What do you take me for, babe? I’m not drowning him, I’m giving him a bath,” she rolls her eyes.

You frown. “You’re… giving him a bath?” 

“Yeah. He’s smelly,” Johanna shrugs. 

“But you hate him.”

“Well, by the looks of things, he is not going anywhere anytime soon, so we might as well make him presentable or something.” 

You grin. “You like him, don’t you?” 

Johanna’s lips twitch. “I don’t hate him.” 

You kneel down beside her and pet Roscoe’s wet coat of black fur. A giggle slips past your lips before you have a chance to stop it. “Well, I reckon he’ll hate you after this bath.”

She rolls her eyes. “Somehow I think I’ll live.”

[cripplecharacters]

Hi, I’m concerned about whether there is anything regarding disability that are strictly off limits for abled author to write about. For example, I know it’s meaningless for an abled author to write about what it means to be disabled, or the disabled experience. Is there anything else that would be infringing on boundaries & risk speaking over actual disabled authors? I know including non-POV disabled characters who just happen to be disabled are fine with proper research. But I feel as if I might be treading some risky ground here because I have a POV character who is disabled. Regarding that, I want to know if some things are off limits if I am abled myself (such as their personal feelings regarding their disability - it’d be odd if I didn’t mention this at all since they’re a POV character, but I don’t know to what extent/if i should explore this at all, especially since it’s a result of injury).

Hello!

Outside of the examples you gave ("what it means/how it is to be disabled") I don't anything is strictly and always off limits for abled writers in general because disabled people will have such a wide range of opinions* on this that it'd be impossible to know what you can and can't do - it's better to just do it well and thoughtfully if you do decide to go for it.

*Examples: I know disabled people who don't want people without their disability to write characters with it at all, no exceptions. I really heavily dislike abled writers putting their disabled characters through nightmarish levels of ableism because it feels like torture porn or at least as exploitative. Someone else will be fine with abled writers doing literally anything. Some people see all non-OwnVoices representation as inspiration porn. Disabled people are too big and diverse of a group to come to a specific consensus.

There are areas where I think they should be more careful, like in stories where a character suddenly becomes disabled, as that can easily turn into a plotline that focuses on how disability is bad due to the missing nuances of such an experience. Even putting aside that there's a ton of room for factual errors on how recovery or just the medical side of things in general looks like, I feel like it can be difficult to write this kind of plotline in detail if you don't have experience in it. For this kind of things, I believe that sensitivity readers are a must if you want it to be a major part of the story. If it's a minor one then it can be okay, especially if you aren't going into the emotional nitty-gritty of the whole process much.

There's also the obvious topic of tropes that I think abled writers should avoid - but as you probably seen on our blog, there will always be exceptions to them. Example: I always say to not put your character with a facial difference in a mask - but in this post I said it was fine if XYZ happened. Nuance and all. But putting tropes in just to be "subversive" usually comes off as cheap, assuming that they actually are subversive in the first place (which they usually aren't).

Tropes are tools, and they can be used well if the writers put effort in, and especially if they ask the group that the trope itself affects. They are bad if they're done mindlessly and without care for actual disabled people, and at the end of the day it depends on how the writer decides to use them. Don't just assume that your case is "special" and "totally different" from all those people who do use them wrong - these two groups often end up as a perfectly circular Venn diagram. Check with disabled readers first.

Having a POV disabled character is completely fine in my opinion. It's not like we are a completely alien, unrelatable concept to abled people. It can be done well, but it does also require more thought and effort to be put in. Again, I think that sensitivity readers can be incredibly helpful in a case like this.

And I think that it is important for the writer to just look at the page and ask: do I know enough to write about the character experiencing X? Because sometimes the answer will be no, and that's fine. Not even stories written by disabled people will touch on every single aspect of the disabled experience because it's so incredibly wide that there would be no place left for actual plot.

We also don't just sit around and think about how we feel about our disabilities. Sure, deciding how your character feels about it in the vague sense is helpful for characterization, but there's a ton of disabled people who treat their disability as a complete non-event. People like us who mod a blog about disability representation are very much a minority. Your character could just be like "oh yeah I guess I do use crutches but it's been 10 years so I keep forgetting about it" and only actively think about that when the actual situation calls for it.

Your character could be 100% neutral about their disability and just think of their cane as something they carry around the same way they do with their house keys, or could be So Positive and make sure their cane compliments their outfit just right every time they leave the house. What I'd advise against is a character who dislikes their disability. Again, it can be done well if there's a lot of effort involved, but it's really not something I look forward to when we're talking about abled writers. Even if their intentions are good, or even if they want to show the diverse spectrum of disability (which again, is true! there are people who feel purely negatively about theirs), it feels weird. Like, why? I think that in 99% cases, those kinds of characters are better left off to disabled writers.

Last thing that I want to add: unless you're writing about ableism, or time-accurate historical fiction, don't use slurs. If you want to refer to some movements that use any of them (Cripplepunk) either shorten them (CPunk), beep the slur out, or at the very least acknowledge that they are slurs.

I hope that this helps!

mod Sasza

[patheticpeoplesupreme]

Fic Title if I had one:

A little piece of me in every body

a one shot

The door opened gently on one of the days he’d preferred silence. Normally, the silence unnerves him, irritates him even, but he feels far too tired to entertain himself with meaningless tunes and jokes.

“Airplane?”

He hums, not looking up from his paperwork, there’s only one person who ever calls him that, and Shen Qingqiu was the one person he didn’t mind listening to on those types of days. He thinks it’s because it’s comforting to be around someone he hadn’t made up in his head. It makes him feel real.

He felt irritated by his king a few times he’d portaled into his office. Eventually, Shang Qinghua had started to make up a mood chart—thing, to which Mobei—Jun had taken note of and respected his boundaries.

Even his martial siblings had noticed which sort of surprised him, he had assumed that they didn’t really care.

He hears some shuffling from wood clinking along wood and soon, the sound of paper flipping every few minutes.

“I’ve noticed something from Binghe.” Shen Qingqiu murmured after a while of quiet.

Shang Qinghua continues reading.

“He’s… well, sensitive sometimes. And clingy and hyperactive.”

“Mn… well, the clingy part might be my fault,” He giggled slightly, “I did advise him to be sticky in order to face your love.”

A deep sigh makes itself known, he knows the man is doing it for dramatic purposes. So he snickers before retuning his focus.

. . .

“Did you project yourself onto him?”

“Don’t all authors do?” He replies genuinely. It earns him an agreeing snort.

“Most authors do,” Shen Qingqiu amended quietly, “but this entire world… feels more like a projection of you more than any other novel.”

Shang Qinghua stops in his tracks, lifting his brush away from the paper, making sure the ink doesn’t ruin the paper, still, he doesn’t say anything.

He hid his eyes under his bangs.

“In most novels, there’s a person of every archetype with each person having a wildly different backstory.”

“My novel has that.” Shang Qinghua muttered.

“I’m getting to that.” He retorted.

“Okay??”

“It’s just that… the backstories of your characters feels like it’s overlapping.”

“Are you critiquing my bad writing again?? I’m not in the mood..”He frowned.

Shen Qingqiu shot him a dry look, “That’s not what I meant. I just meant that there’s a lot story beats that just… looks like a pattern. Parts of the story are so incredibly specific that it makes me think that… this was a part of you that you believed in. Even if 50% of the book was based on popular tropes that is.”

“Okay. And?” He asked, unimpressed, his mood declining the more he spoke. Goodness he thought he could’ve had a break today. He guessed not.

Shen Qinghua looks up at the sound of the other standing up, a weird look present on his face.

“Most of your characters, the main ones at least, have a fear of being abandoned.” He comes closer to Shang Qinghua’s table. “Do you fear that too, Airplane shooting towards the sky?”

“I think that you’re trying to rile me up on purpose,” he growled lowly, trying not to show that he had been affected by what the other man had said. He didn’t really notice. It was kind of unintentional, but now that he’d given him a bit of evidence, he couldn’t stop his mind from whirling with thoughts.

“Yue Qingyuan,” Shen Qingqiu started after a long time of having a staring contest, “was terrified of losing Shen Jiu, to the point thatwhen the man had hated him, despised him and scorned him, he never defended himself because he thought he deserved it. And even if Shen Jiu had no love left for him, Yue Qingyuan was fine with it as long as Shen Jiu stayed.”

“Mm.”

“And as an opposite, Shen Jiu was so incredibly terrified of being abandoned again, he decides to make sure no one could get close to him so that he wouldn’t be abandoned. So that he wouldn’t feel that sinking disappointment and pain when a promise made by a loved one has been broken.”

He wishes he could say that it hadn’t sounded familiar. The longer Shen Qingqiu talked, the more he sank in his chair trying not to tear up.

He wanted to ask why. Why he was torturing Shang Qinghua with this information. He tried not to think of his parents. Of his highschool group mates.

“Mobei—jun with parents who neglected him, someone who would let you hit him so that you wouldn’t ever leave his side ever again. You said that he was so desperate—“

“Okay!? So what??” He finally snapped, getting tired of these questions, and on such a bad day too, he thought the two of their were close friends dammit.

“Airplane.” Shen Qingqiu hissed, “tell me the truth here.”

“What!?” He demanded.

“How much of this was intentional and how much was a reflection of your own life?”

“Why? So you can make fun of me!? Critique my oh so tragic backstory? Tell me, ‘wow he’s such a whiny ass bitch for—“

Shen Qingqiu squeezed his hand out of nowhere, startling him so hard that his mind went blank. “Because you’ve done a lot to help me, so I want to help you.”

“S—So it’s a debt now!?” He scowled, his defenses building itself up very quickly, (channeling his inner shenjiu amirite) trying to push Shen Qingqiu’s hand away, but to no avail, the man was firm in his hold.

“Because you’re one of my best friends and I love you like one of my family, idiot.”

Shang Qinghua sniffled “Evil, you are.”

“Mhm.” The bastard hummed disinterestedly.

Note: sqq’s been trying to approach him for weeks, that’s probably why SQH’s in a bad mood, cuz why is sqq trying to therapise him or something, it should be his job, listening to other people and then doing the work

“I guess— I guess we can start with Zhangmen—shixiong’s part.” He whispered hours later when they’re both on the couch, Shang Qinghua’s head laying on Shen Qingqiu’s lap.

Shen Qing—no, Shen Yuan nodded.

“Obviously I don’t have a super depressing backstory like he does,” He started with a dry laugh, his gaze heavy and sad.

“I’m just... a people pleaser like Zhangmen—shixiong. Unable to say no, especially when it comes to paperwork. I guess it started when my parents started fighting when I was younger. Elementary school, I think? It was subtle. Maybe. I—I don’t remember.”

“My mom was the more emotional one. Had a short temper for all of my childhood. And… my dad was calmer, but just as temperamental.”

He thinks about when he was writing an outline about Yue Qingyuan’s and Shen Jiu’s verbal fights with each other, Yue Qi’s guilt for not being able to do enough even though he had tried. Even though it wasn’t his fault that he’d been isolated for so long without proper encouragement.

Maybe this is where Airplane had split parts of him.

He remembers the time after writing the draft, writing out all of his pent up emotions into his characters, he remembers feeling exhausted. At the time, he had thought it was solely because of the word count. But maybe it’d been because he’d been losing his heart all along.

“Mama was passive aggressive and Baba couldn’t care less. When I turned 13, no one was happy. So I tried to be what they wanted to be, I guess.”

He remembers a few chapters where Lou Binghe had met the parents of some of his wives and how they’d hated his personality. How he’d switched up a more than a few times to make them happy, and for what? In the end, most of his wives had been unhappy anyway. Enraged at her parents that he had to fake his personality to gain their approval. Sometimes it ended badly, sometimes it ended good.

Decades after writing those plots, he thinks now that maybe it’s not just a trope anymore. He thinks he can place himself into the spot of the wife. Trying to please the unpleasable.

“Sometimes it worked and they were happy with me. Mama would buy me desserts I liked, lecture me fondly and gives me a big hug. Baba would actually come hang out with me for once, promise he’ll come back after the divorce and then leave.”

Shen Jiu’s tendency to hide behind a wall of barbed wire. The man was like a rose bush with the spikiest thorns. And Yue Qi was a gardener with no gloves. He’d been waiting for years. Desperately hoping that he hadn’t been abandoned.

“When I turned 20, I saw some picture on the internet. Baba had a new family and he didn’t even come to tell me.” Shang Qinghua finally let out a sob, the first time ever admitting it to anyone.

“It—it’s not like I had a bad life, but—but it sucked being the child stuck in between, so I just gave up.”

Shen Qingqiu lifted Shang Qinghua by the shoulders and wrapped him in a warm embrace.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Mm.” Shang Qinghua sniffled.

—

“For parts of Mobei—Jun’s story I guess I just knew a guy who lashed out a lot. I mean, I was never the type to physically mean, so.” He shrugged, “i don’t know what state I was when I was writing him.”

“My friend didn’t have good parents, had a shitty uncle, I felt bad for using his story. But… he was so quiet, he never told anyone what he was feeling and in the end, I was feeling rage for him. When I said he was created as my ideal romantic partner. I guess it was because I never really knew a healthy relationship up close to write about? That’s why a lot of the wives seemed flat, I guess. Haha, you— you were right about the projection.

“What happened to your friend?”

Shang Qinghua shrugged.

“Became an overseas student I think? I remember seeing his face on the news once so he probably got all popular and got forgot about me. Think he was studying law or accounting.”

—

“I based Liu Qingge and his sister over that friend too actually.”

Shen Qingqiu blinks in surprise when Shang Qinghua has appeared during his lunch break.

“Remember?”

“Ah, yeah, how so?”

—

“Though he hated their parents, him and his sister was super close, kept in close contact always. He was a good big brother. He told me stories about her a few times.”

“So the Xiao Liu…based off of your friends sister?”

“Vaguely.”

—

“How bout you?” Shang qinghua tilted his head.

Shen Qingqiu smiled sadly, “I had two sisters and an older brother.”

“I’m sorry. It must be lonely.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t trigger the choking hazard.”

Both of them laugh at the dark humour.

—

Funnily enough I don’t have any head canons about SY’s family. I guess I like thinking that his eldest bro has a little bit Shen Jiu’s snarky ness and mood temperaments. So he’s a little defensive and a little protective.

And the Youngest sister also loved stories just like him

Youngest sister wanted to be just like Shen yuan, all smart, sassy, and kind

[nattikay]

“Furries are nasty perverts and fetishists!!”

“No they’re not, furries are actually the most sweetest wholesome loving generous fandom ever!!”

…both these statements are (partly) wrong actually, and share the same problem: generalization.

see, all the term “furry” means is that someone likes the concept of anthropomorphic animals. That can encompass an incredibly broad scope of genres, mediums, tropes, styles, fan expressions, etc. It does not have any bearing on the individual’s moral character.

It’s absolutely true that some furries really are sweet and kind and generous and wholesome etc.

But unfortunately, it’s also true that some furries really are perverts and creeps and bullies and drama queens etc.

Painting the whole fandom as perverts/fetishists/“all about sex”/etc. is unfair to the furries who are not into those things and just want to have fun drawing cartoon animals, or dressing up as them, or however else they want to channel their hobby; as a “clean furry” who wants nothing to do with sexual side of the fandom I completely understand the frustration with this generalization and the knee-jerk reaction to refute it.

But, painting the whole fandom as sweet innocent angels is wrong too, and only makes us look dishonest when non-furries see us claiming that all furries are all wholesome all the time, only to turn around and find Kero the Wolf or some other infamous case.

Of course I’m not saying we shouldn’t celebrate the good aspects of the fandom, nor that we need to make a disclaimer about bad eggs every time we do. I’m just saying that mass generalizations are a problem in both directions.

The truth is that furries are individuals. There are good ones, bad ones, and all levels of in-between (this is true of any fandom actually, or really probably any large social group at all). Being a “furry” (aka thinking talking animals are cool basically) in and of itself is morally neutral; it does not make someone automatically good nor automatically bad.

[nightlyrequiem]

Hello there requiemmm 💫💫💫

Ive got a new request for u bbg 😈 /p

okay, so, this ones short, but, i hope its descriptive enough?? Idk 😭

(excuse my grammar, english is not my first language)

Valeria X unfairly devoted Reader.

hear me out, -- Reader is a member of Valerias cartel, -- they're in the higher ranks (im talking, one of the very few people that actually know who El Sin Nombre is, type of 'higher rank')

Reader is an absolute devotee. They (platonically, mostly) worship Valeria, cater to her every need, do whatever she'd like, whenever she'd like, no questions asked. Reader doesnt do it out of fear, that much is obvious. They just do it out of both respect and the far lack of both disobedience and a backbone.

Valeria, naturally, appreciates them, -- keeps them close, enjoys their company (mostly, because it feeds her ego, and makes her feel superior, -- in control, and whatnot) so much so, that reader is nearly permanently stuck being, somewhat of a 'personal assistant'.

Reader, being forced to spend all day (and, sometimes night, if Valeria needs some help with something) decides 'eh, why the fuck not' and asks Valeria out on a little hangout, disguised as a small 'meeting' in a coffee shop, that, ultimately, actually goes well, and spirals into a date.

(Date, naturally, ends with beating someone senseless in a dark alley, after they listened in on Readers and Vals conversation, or, .. something. Reader is, most definitely, doing all the damage, being a guard dog of sorts, not wanting Valeria to 'get her hands dirty, from such a small, unimportant man'. Not manner, man.)

Etc etc, girlfriends, lesbianism, boom. Work your magic, im bad at describing genuinly falling inlove.

hope yar doing well!

--Jester

🃏🌀⭐️

Took me eight days but I finally got around to this. Sorry for the wait, Jester 😔 I am doing quite well as of wiritng this, thank you. I hope all is well with you!

This is very loosely connected to the headcanons I did for this idea. I said it once, and I'll say it again; I love the unfairly devoted trope. I’m not sure I captured it too well but 🙌

Tags/Warnings: Violence, WLW, Boss/Employee Relationship

Swans

Many species of birds mate for life. Penguins, corvids, vultures, and most famously: swans. Symbols of love, loyalty, and grace. They are creatures full of love. They're so sensitive that they can die from heartbreak. You stare at Valeria and understand how the swan feels. How it could hopelessly devote itself to another, even at the cost of it's life.

The quiet scratching of a pen fills in the silence. Valeria's brows are furrowed in concentration as she haunches over her desk. You want to remind her to straighten her back, so it doesn't hurt later. Your eyes greedily drink in her profile. The slope of her nose, the curve of her lips, her curtain of black hair slightly obscuring her cheek and eye.

She sighs.

"Get me a drink." She murmurs. You're to your feet immediately. Heading towards the small cabinet containing her alcohol. You've fixed her enough drinks to know what she wants. Your fingers wrap around the neck of a bottle with golden liquid. Pouring it into a small glass, then putting in exactly two small ice cubes.

You carry it over to her desk and set it down in the corner. You slink around behind her. Watching her take a sip. You can't see her face, but you know she's letting the liquid sit in her mouth to savour the taste. She does that with all of her drinks; savours the first sip.

You have no problem getting her drinks. Or doing her paperwork. Or taking a bullet for her. Valeria has been the one constant in your life. She's the only one who has ever noticed you, and you latched onto her like a leech. She fed you crumbs of kindness and that's all it took. It's obsessive and unhealthy but you're long past the stage of caring.

Valeria takes a second sip then goes back to working. Her shoulders look so tense. You want to rub that tension away, but you don't. It's late and you're feeling a little tired, but you'd never say so. You doubt Valeria cares and you don't want to distract her. Besides, she must be tired too. You'll go home when she does. For now, though, you wander back around the desk and sit down in one of the chairs off to the side.

You gaze at Valeria as she works. At some point without even realising it you fall asleep. Your body startles itself awake as that fact worms it's way into your subconscious. You aren't sure how long you've been dozing off for, but Valeria isn't in the room anymore. You sit up with urgency and look around, a small fleece blanket falls from your shoulders.

You furrow your brows, trying to remember if you put it on yourself. You know you didn't. You feel slightly giddy at the thought of Valeria doing it. As if just thinking her name summoned her, Valeria walks into the small office. Despite how tired she is her stride is still intense and confident.

She sits down with a grunt and glances at you.

"Good sleep?" She asks sarcastically.

"How long was I out for?" You murmur. Tugging the blanket into your lap. Valeria's hair is a little messy and you wish you could run your fingers through it. Or a brush. You just want to touch her hair.

"Fifteen minutes." Valeria replies. "You should go home and get some rest."

Fifteen minutes isn't that bad. You don't want to leave just yet though.

"No, I'm okay to stay for longer." You insist. "I could help you finish up the last of those reports."

Valeria shakes her head and when she speaks her voice sounds softer than usual. "You've been staying late for the past few weeks; I know you aren't getting the sleep you need. Go home."

You frown but concede. "Alright." As you're getting up an idea pops into your head. "Hey, could we meet at Ila's tomorrow? I just think I need some extra reminders about where all the trade routes are." You know every route and the exact location of them.

"Okay." Valeria agrees. "5PM."

The next day arrives and you're very impatient for 5PM. You finished all your tasks and went home early. It's not a date. Not to Valeria, but that doesn't mean you aren't going to treat it like one. You've picked out a nice, attractive outfit and touched up your makeup.

You arrived five minutes early and secured a table. Watching as patrons pass by. The smell of baked goods almost tempts you into buying something, but you don't want to eat before Valeria. Ever the punctual person, Valeria walks in through the glass doors at exactly 5PM. She looks very put together, hair brushed and glossy. She's even wearing different clothes.

Valeria sits down across from you and gives you a small smile that sends fireworks throughout your body. You want to trap that smile in a jar like a firefly. Valeria reaches into her bag and pulls out a folded, yellowed map and sets it up on a table. She begins to quietly and intently explain where each route is and where the shipments go.

You nod and hum, pretending to listen. You're much more focused on Valeria's hands as she points at places on the map. Her neatly trimmed pink nails and fingers. Ine of them is slightly crooked from having been broken one too many times. Her skin looks soft and if you try hard enough you can smell her lotion.

"-and this is when we split it into smaller batches to move it across the border."

You point to Mackey Hill.

"Here?" You ask. Already knowing the answer.

"Yes." She nods. You glance up behind her for a split second and watch some scruffy looking man quickly turn away. Immediately you straighten and stare at him. You don't like the vibes he's giving off.

Valeria furrows her brows at you.

"What's wrong?" She asks quietly. You lean closer and whisper back.

"I think that man is eavesdropping."

Valeria turns her head to look at the man, narrowing her eyes. You feel pleased that she trusts your word so strongly.

"Get rid of him." She commands.

You slip out of your spot and approach him. He startles as you lean down and murmur in his ear.

"Follow me. My boss has a proposition for you." You walk towards the doors and cast a look behind you. He's staring at you nervously but eventually rises.

You wait behind the brick wall and wait. Sure enough the man rounds the corner. Looking at you with a mixture of caution and curiosity.

"What was the-" He's cut off by Valeria hitting him in the back of the head. He grunts and falls to his knees. You strike him this time. Kneeing him in the face. He opens his mouth to scream but you cover it before he can.

You drag him deeper into the alley and fish out the small blade hidden in your boot. You make quick work of slitting his throat. He makes an awful gurgling sound before going still. Valeria helps you lift him into the nearby dumpster. Your fingers brush and you look at each other.

You've been loyal to her for years. Since before she even came into power. Through thick and thin you've stuck by her side. You've thrown yourself in harm's way to protect her without thought. You've spent countless hours staring at her intently but now your gaze is being returned tenfold. There's a new fire in those dark inky eyes. One you've only caught glimpses of. But here it is, in all it's blazing glory and it's directed at you. Scorching and all consuming.

His body thumps dully as he falls among the full trash bags but neither of you are paying attention to him anymore.

"Why don't we go get something to eat?" Valeria murmurs softly. "I'm sure you'll have an easier time getting the routes with a full stomach." Her hand creeps towards yours and your fingers tangle with hers. You've done more than feed her ego, you've carved out a place in her heart for yourself.

[borathae]

↳ Index [Snippet #41 - Protector]

“When Jungkook shows you why you can always count on him.”

Pairing: Jungkook x f.Reader

Warnings: harassment by a stranger, that stranger is really scary, violence in the form of Kook punching him, cursing, bruises, he is so protective over her, domestic fluff in the form of her taking care of his wounds, she is really vulnerable

Wordcount: 3.1k

a/n: sometimes i need to write about the trope of strong man protects you from danger. somehow i always wanna write that trope with kook. he gives me such “imma fight for you no matter what” vibes and ogc!kook is the epitome of that ngngn

You are so scared. All of your employees left for the day already and there are no other customers in the restaurant anymore. Except for one. A man. Drunk. Tall. Stronger than you. And with bad intentions in his eyes. 

You can’t get him to leave and you are so scared. He has started to attempt to get behind the counter. If he does, you won’t be able to go anywhere. 

He is telling you about how he thinks it fascinating when women scream. You are so scared, but keep nodding your head and smiling. You are scared that if you don’t, you would be the next one screaming for him. Not in a good way obviously. 

This never happened before. You don’t have creepy customers. Most of the drunkards staying past their curfews are sappy drunks or straight up sleepyheads. You know most of them by now and in some weird way, you see them as friends. You see most of your regulars as friends. It’s a small town and they are always welcome here. Some you even knew all your life. 

You don’t know this man. His dialect lets you know that he wasn’t from here. Probably from another province. 

He is inching closer to the bar entrance, lulling his words. 

“It’s also fascinating when women run. Their tits bounce. I like that.”

You nod and smile, but your fingers grasp the knife as tightly as possible. You used it to cut limes hours ago, but won’t hesitate to use it to cut a person. 

His eyes flit to your chest. 

“You have nice tits.”

Your hand places itself over your chest to hide away. He follows the movements of your fingers. He licks his lips.

“I’m married. Very happily.”

“So? Is a nice guy, such as myself, not allowed to compliment a nice pair of tits?”

“You know, it’s getting very late and we are actually in the middle of closing up”, you tell him, smiling the entire time, “my husband will come any second now.”

“Don’t throw me out yet, I don’t like to be denied”, he says coldly and inches closer to the entrance.

You bite down a sob. Where is your husband? Where is Jungkook? Or anyone for that matter? You are so scared. 

“It doesn’t do well with me to be denied”, the man says and places his hand on the edge of the little swing door. He pushes, opens it just enough that he can take a step inside. 

“Please no customers behind the bar”, you beg.

“I don’t like that”, he says with furrowed brows, “I don’t like that one bit.”

He steps closer and you flee. You were too scared to do anything else. You run with your body still turned to him.

He follows in big steps. Manages to get three steps and then gets tugged back so harshly he falls on his ass. 

“The fuck are you fucker doing?” Jungkook spits, placing himself between you and the criminal. He closed up shop next doors and was in the middle of getting to you so you could drive home together when he watched you get harassed through the window. He jumped into a sprint instantly with only one thought in mind. Save you. 

Your knees buckle in relief, you have to hold onto the counter because of it. You could cry. You are so relieved that it gets hard to focus. 

“Baby, is he bothering you?” Jungkook asks, staring at the man. The latter currently gets back up.  

“I’m not bothering her”, he says.

“Pumpkin pie, is he bothering you?” Jungkook insists.

“Yes”, you choke out, “pumpkin pie.”

You thought of the codeword a long time ago. You will call him pumpkin pie whenever you find yourself in a dangerous situation and he will know that it is serious. You agree that a silly nickname won’t call attention and keep you safe.

“Okay, Imma need you to leave this place”, Jungkook addresses the guy. He speaks darkly and with honest danger in his voice, “now.”

“I haven’t finished my drink.”

“And I don’t give a fuck, you’re gonna leave now.”

Jungkook steps closer to the guy in warning, intimidating him by making himself bigger.

It does work. Jungkook can be a really scary guy if he wants to. Obvious muscles, dark hair, black leather bike clothes and dark tattoos. Heavy boots and big rings on his hands and piercings on his face. Jungkook can be scary if he wants to and on many occasions it worked to get whatever danger was harassing you, off your ass. 

Tonight it only works a little. The man stumbles back to the customer zone but then gets so angry at being pushed away that he tries to attack Jungkook.

Which was a mistake, because Jungkook has been on attack mode the moment he saw you fleeing from the man. Jungkook doesn’t even give the man a chance to lift his hand for a punch and he has already landed one straight across his face. Hard and with his restraints entirely gone. The man stumbles back and falls, hitting his elbows as they cushion his fall. He groans in pain, looking disoriented for a few seconds.

One must know one thing about Jungkook. He knows how to fight. The days on the streets taught him how to act in a real fight. The years and years of daily training helped him perfect his techniques. He knows how to throw a punch, land a kick and dodge. So the punch he threw right now, landed right where it was supposed to land. With Jungkook’s entire strength and anger bundled into it.

“Leave this fucking place!” Jungkook screams so loudly his deep voice bounces off the walls. It is distorted in anger. He doesn’t sound like your dorky, sweet husband right now.

The man, bleeding from his cheek and with his eye already starting to swell, still gets up and tries to fight him. Broken pride is the initiator. Alcohol the motivator. 

Jungkook catches his hand and uses his strength against him by twirling him and pressing his arm against his back. The grip is painful. The kind police use on their victims. 

The man screams up in pain and Jungkook tightens the grip.

“You’re on thin fucking ice, Imma fuck you up if you keep trying shit. Hear me? Imma actually fucking fuck you up”, Jungkook spits as he pushes the man to the door. 

“You’re breaking my arm!”

“I’m gonna fucking break so much more than just your fucking arm. You motherfucker, I’m actually gonna fuck you up”, Jungkook barks, twisting his arm to the point where the criminal whimpers with buckling knees, “you think you can go around threatening my wife? I’m gonna fucking show you what this gets you, you shit low life fuck.”

“Please, it hurts you fucker!”

“Walk!”

Police is arriving outside. You called while they were busy fighting. They enter the restaurant and greet you loudly. Two take over for Jungkook. You know them well and they know you. They often times have lunch at your restaurant or if they don’t, they enjoy some burgers at Seokjin’s diner. They’re part of this town, as much as you and your friends are.  

“Fucking take him, Imma actually fucking curse. Take this fucker, he was threatening my wife, acting like a predator”, Jungkook spits, “fuck, I’m so angry how dare he-”

“You did a good job, Jungkook”, the police officer tells him and steps in between, “now please stay calm. We have it from here.”

“Make sure he never leaves his cell. I hope he rots in prison. This motherfucker. He threatened my ___.”

“Stay calm. Everything will be handled, but we still need to take your testimonies. He won’t leave his cell for the night, but we need you to calm down.”

Jungkook takes a step back, “fuck”, he presses out, lifting his arms, “I’m calm. Just do what you must.”

You don’t hold back any details, telling them about the scary things the man said and how he came at you when you tried to throw him out. And while you do, you are shaking while Jungkook was holding you and trembling in anger. 

They leave after making sure that the restaurant was safe. They offered to drive you home, but you told them that you can take the bike home. 

You ended up keeping it parked by the restaurant and driving home with Jungkook. You hugged him so tightly that it felt as if you wanted to merge with him. All you needed was a hug. You didn’t get a proper hug yet. You didn’t feel comfortable hugging like this in front of the police. 

The garage door closes behind you automatically. Jungkook is in the midst of taking off his helmet. You do the same. And while he is by the biking gear cupboard, you are still by his bike. It feels impossible to move. Jungkook places the helmet on its holder and turns to looks at you. Your eyes fill with tears instantly.

“Hey”, he is by your side immediately taking you into his arms, “I’m here, my love.”

You break. This was all it took. This one hug. His safe arms around you and his strong chest against your cheek. This is all it took to break your composure. 

You sob loudly and honestly and you do so with your fingers twisting his thick leather jacket while Jungkook sways your bodies from side to side soothingly and repeatedly kisses the crow of your head. 

“I’m here, I’m right here, let it all out, I’m here”, he keeps repeating over and over again. 

“I was, was so scared.”

“I know baby, god I know. Nothing can get you anymore, I’m keeping you safe.”

“Kookie…”

Jungkook holds you until you calm down. He takes off the bike gear for you and then carries you inside. He sits you down on the sofa and wraps you up in a blanket. And he does all of that whilst repeating that he was here for you over and over again. It really soothed you like nothing else.

“Can you check the windows, please?” you ask because you were scared. You know that the police were taking care of it, but you were still so scared. What if the guy flees and then tries to find you? The possibilities of that happening were next to zero, but you were still so scared.

“Of course”, and so Jungkook checked every single window and he rolled down the blinds for every single one and even turned on the lights in every room. He checked the locks twice and checks the garage door once more. You were safe and the outside world was locked out. 

Jungkook returns to you and squats down in front of you, taking your hands. 

“Nothing can get inside”, he assures you. 

Bam is by your sides, sniffling at you. His body language was tense. He must smell the anxiety. He will protect you as well if someone dares to break in. 

“Thank you for checking”, you whisper shakily. 

“Of course”, Jungkook straightens up and places his hand on the back of your head so he can pull you into a forehead kiss, “shit baby, I’m still so angry that I feel sick.”

“I’m so happy that you came when you did.”

“Me too, but fuck I should have come sooner.” 

“Don’t blame yourself please. I’m so happy that you’re here.”

“Me too. Fuck, if something had happened to you”, his face tightens in dark anger, “I would have hunted this asshole down and killed him.”

“But it didn’t”, you reach out to caress his cheeks, “thank you for keeping me safe.”

“I’ll always keep you safe.”

You feel so grateful for him. So, so grateful that you have to pull him into a kiss. Gentle and filled with eternal love. Jungkook kisses you back with just as much love and his hands cradling your face. You end it with a gentle nudge to his nose.

“Thank you, my love”, you whisper, “I still feel shaken up, but I know that I don’t have anything to worry about because you’re with me.”

“And I always will”, he assures you and seals the promise with a loving kiss. He kisses your cheek afterwards, caressing your skin with his thumb, “now stay, I’m making you some tea to calm the nerves.”

That night, Jungkook holds you as you fall asleep, running his fingers over your scalp until you find peace of mind and rest.

You wake again when you can hear Jungkook leave the bedroom. You check the clock. It’s been an hour since you went to bed. Feeling incredibly cold without his hug and just a little scared without his protection, you roll out of bed to follow him. You follow him all the way to the kitchen. 

The lights by the sink were on. Otherwise the room is dark. He is sitting on the counter and is pressing an ice pack to his knuckles.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” you ask into the silence.

Jungkook lifts his head. His messy hair hangs into his eyes.

“What are you doing up?” he gasps, “go back to bed, sweetheart.”

“I can’t sleep without you. Are you hurting?”

Jungkook removes the ice pack and shows off his bruised, swollen hand.

“I hit him with all my strength. The rings tug into my hand.”

“Holy fuck, it looks terrible. Sweetheart, we should go to the hospital”, you gasp, hurrying to him to take his hand and inspect it.

“It’s okay. It’s just bruised. I can still move my fingers, so nothing’s broken.”

“Kookie”, you press out and lean down to kiss his knuckles, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just didn’t wanna worry you.”

“God, no”, you choke out, “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“You got hurt because of me.”

“Hey. Stop that”, he says sternly and tugs you between his legs. He tilts your head up, staring deeply into your eyes. His bruised hand is the one cradling your cheek, “I’d take a fucking bullet for you, so don’t you ever apologise for this again. I’m happy I got these bruises because it means you were safe.”

You whimper and spill tears.

“Hey, my darling”, he speaks softly and pulls you against his chest. He hugs you safely, swaying you from side to side, “everything’s gonna be alright. I’m here now. Your hubby’s here.”

“Kookie, I love you”, you choke out, “I love you so much.”

“Well, I love you too my baby”, he says and kisses the crown of your head, “you should go to sleep, staying awake will only hurt you. I can see how it hurts you.”

“I can’t fall asleep without you.”

“Okay, I’ll just take care of my hand and then we can cuddle.”

“No”, you step back and take his bruised hand, “I wanna take care of it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No, no I want to”, you say in a tiny, sad voice, shaking your head vigorously.

Jungkook can see that you aren’t yourself right now, that you fell into this very vulnerable, almost child-like headspace. And that this was the result of a traumatic day, which has been dragging on for way too long. You got this way two times before. Once when you found out about your grandparents’ house burning down and the second time was when you dreamt of what happened in the alley years ago and he had to shake you awake. He was there for you on both occasions and he will make sure that he is there for you right now.

“Okay fine”, he gives in because he knows that this is what you need, “but let’s not do it here. Let’s go upstairs.”

“Yes, please.”

Jungkook sits down on the bathtub. Only the small mirror cabinet light is turned on, painting the walls of the bathroom in a faint golden shine. You hurry to your medicine cabinet and take out everything you need.

“Give me your hand”, you ask him quietly.

Jungkook offers it to you, running his thumb over your skin as you inspect him.

“It looks so painful”, you get out and choke down a whimper, “Googie.”

“It’ll heal, don’t worry.”

“Googie, please lets go to the hospital.”

“It’s not that bad, I promise”, he assures you and tilts your head up with two of his fingers holding your chin. His eyes are filled with adoration, “but I’ll go the doctors tomorrow, yeah? So we can be sure that it’s just bruised.”

“Yes, please go”, you pout, “it, it looks so painful.”

“It already hurts a little less because you’re taking care of it.”

A small smile curls at your lips. You lower your eyes and let out a shy giggle. Jungkook smiles upon hearing it, running his thumb over your cheek. He leans in and kisses whatever part of your head he can naturally reach.

“I’ll put cream on it now”, you say.

“Yes, do that. Thank you, sweetie. You’re taking such great care of me��, he speaks softly, guiding his hand from your face to your hip so he can massage it slowly. The touch feels really good to you, letting you know that he will always be there for you.

You make sure to be as careful as possible, spreading the healing cream with nothing more than a featherlight touch. The knuckle on his ring finger carries the smallest of cuts. It’s where he wore his heaviest ring. You look up at him and he gives you a reassuring smile.

“It doesn’t hurt”, he whispers, nodding his head, “keep going, you’re doing so well.”

“You, you really gotta let a doctor look at it tomorrow.”

“I will, baby. Promise. First thing I’ll do is drive to the doctors.”

“Yes. Good”, you say, now moving on to healing the knuckle of his pinky. It only carries a small bruise, “Googie, I wanna stay at home tomorrow. I’m scared to go back.”

“This is totally understandable. I think a day off sounds like a good plan. You deserve to have some rest. I’m sure that Steph can manage the place perfectly. I’ll talk to her after I went to the doctors, yeah?”

You nod your head, “thank you, Googie.”

“Of course baby, don’t mention it.”

You look up at him, “I finished the cream.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook gives your hand a gentle squeeze. It hurts a lot when he does, but he doesn’t let it show for your sake, “it already hurts so much less, thank you baby.”

“Was…was I able to help?”

“Yes baby, you helped a lot”, he assures you and pulls you into his arms. He kisses your cheek and seconds later, has you making yourself smaller so you can rest your head on his shoulder, “thank you so much, I couldn’t have done it any better.”

You snuggle into him, release a shaky breath of relief.

“Now”, he begins and squeezes your buttock, “let’s finally get back to bed and sleep the day off. Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m so tired.”

Ever since that day, Jungkook closes his shop one hour earlier just so he can stay with you until you close up. And if anyone was wondering, Jungkook kept his promise and went to the doctors. His hand was bruised, but will heal just fine.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: one bed

pairing: jameson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: you’re stuck with the cockiest man of all time and you need a place to stay… but things aren’t exactly idealistic

warnings: Jameson being a shameless flirt, you have to pretend you hate jameson… very difficult I KNOW

a/n: enemies to lovers?? Yes. One bed trope?? Yes. Jameson Hawthorne being outrageously hot for no good reason?? Absolutely.

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @stqrsbythepocketful @lxvebelle love you guys 🤍🤍

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” I say as the door swings open.

The room itself was okay, clean, tidy, welcoming but there was one giant problem situated in the middle. There was only one bed.

“I don’t think anyone is kidding this time, princess,” Jameson grins, looking far too happy with himself for your liking.

“Don’t call me that,” I scowl.

“Okay,” he smirks, “…princess.”

I want to punch that those pathetic upturned corners of his mouth to Mars but I restrain myself… for now.

“You’re on the floor,” I snap, cocking my head to where he would be sleeping. I was not about to share a bed with him, absolutely not. It was bad enough that I had to spend three days with the guy, I wasn’t about to jeopardise my sleep for him too.

“No I am not,” he yells, looking offended that I’d even suggested it,

“Be a gentleman,” I say mockingly, “sleep on the floor.”

“I’d rather die,” Jameson says flatly, his disgust evident.

“I will find a knife and make it happen,” I hiss, hoping he realises I might actually go through this threat.

His eyes brow fly to his forehead and his eyes widen, “what?”

“What?” I say quickly.

He shakes his head folds his arms and turns to me with a cocky smile, “I’m sleeping in the bed whether you like it or not.”

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” I reply, kicking his shin, hard.

He lets out a string of colourful words as he crumples to the floor holding his leg. Next time, I make myself a mental note that, I should aim for the groin.

“You are one piece of work,” he winced, standing up again, towering over me, “but you’re my piece of work, so it makes all of this worth it.”

“Your piece of work?” I scoff.

“Oh so you like being mine?” he quips, a grin safely situated on his eager lips.

“Possessiveness makes a man ugly,” I say flatly and bluntly, hoping he might shut his ever moving mouth for just a moment.

“So you thought I was pretty before?” Jameson asks, though it seems to be more of an assumption than a question.

“Shut your mouth,” I snap, viciousness rolling from the tip of tongue, the odd bitter taste still left in my mouth even after it’s closed.

“Can you shut it for me?” he pouts, mockingly, lolling his head to the side, “with a kiss perhaps?”

“In your wildest wet dreams Hawthorne,” I deadpan, my face robbed of all expression.

Silence. Never was there more bliss than this moment of absolute silen-

“I think you want to kiss me.”

His voice is like a never ending ringing in my ears, torturing me to the grave. Leave it to Jameson Hawthorne to ruin the mere seconds of peace I was beginning to enjoy. And his audacity made me want to run through a wall head first. Me? Want to kiss him? Well wouldn’t he be lucky.

“You have fun with that thought,” I sigh, beginning to walk away.

“No really, that’s why you’re so uptight all the time,” he says casually.

Done. I am done with this guy.

“Uptight!” I yell, “uptight! I’m uptight because I’m being forced to spend three days with the most insufferable person on this earth and now I have to share a bed you as well!”

“Breathe princess,” he replies calmly to get under my skin, “the world’s not ending.”

“No,” I laugh bitterly, “the world is not ending but I think I’d much rather face Armageddon than a night with you.”

“Oh c’mmon princess,” he shrugs, “it’s only a night, surely I’m not that bad.”

“You are, undoubtably, you are,” I grit through my teeth, “I’m asking to switch.”

“This is the only room left in this whole place,” he points out.

I knew he was right. I’d been there when the damn owner of the place had given us the last room key and had told us there would be no way to change the room if it was unsatisfactory as there were no more rooms to give. I didn’t think it’d be a problem…until now that is.

“I’d rather sleep outside,” I state.

“Then go, be my guest,” Jameson says, “I’m not the one making a fuss thought now I think I should be.”

I ignore his comment, “Aren’t you rich? Can’t you just pay them?”

“Are you asking me, a man of honourable intention, to bribe innocent people,” he gasps melodramatically, batting his eyelashes.

I think he thinks he’s being funny. I’m not laughing.

“Honourable is a bit too compliments to yourself in you ask me,” I snort.

“Well no one did, so that’s that one sorted,” he smiles, matter-of-factly.

“Oh would you just-“

If he hadn’t interrupted me there I would’ve spouted language that would’ve condemned me to an eternity of hell.

“It’s not that big of a deal anyway and I don’t know why you’re making it one,” he says, “we’re sleeping in a bed for a night… unless…”

“Unless what?” I ask curiously.

I didn’t like the sound of the smile creeping up in his voice. I didn’t like how confided he seemed or his natural relaxed demeanour.

“Unless you don’t want to because you’re afraid you’ll like it,” he says, biting his bottom lip slightly.

Like it? Like it? Just when I thought his head couldn’t get any further up his arse.

I bark out a laugh, “you’re mental.”

“I think I’m actually very smart,” says Mr.BigFatEgo.

“The last thing I’m scared of is liking you, I wouldn’t let my standards drop that low,” I tell him.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night princess, though tonight it might be me that helps you sleep better,” he winks.

I wished to slap him across the face right there and then. So hard, so loud and so painfully that he wouldn’t be able to sleep on that side for weeks, so it would sting for hours one end, so a red mark would stain to damned cheek I left it on. I fantasise even breaking a jaw but I chose to stand still and say nothing and just stare.

“What?” he teases, his voice changing as if he were talking to a small child, “Cat got your tongue?”

“I’m going for a shower,” I retort.

“Feeling saucy?” Jameson smirks.

I don’t bother to reply, too tired of his games and his stupid antics. I need a break, I need a shower and I need a second of quiet. So I turn swiftly on my heel and leave him stood there. I hope the smirk falls from his face.

***

Once the two of us had showered, we both cautiously crawled onto one side of the bed. You’d have thought there was an invisible force field keeping the two of us apart from the way we were sitting. There was no sound now. Not even background TV noise, just air thick with tension. All day I’d longed for silence and now it had finally arrived I wish more than anything for some noise.

“Are we going to sleep?” Jameson asks.

I look at him for the first time since my shower, making direct eye contact. Piercing green irises stare back at me, telling stories of many woods and forests. I’d never really looked at his eyes like this before.

“I don’t like this,” I blurt out, gesturing to the sleeping arrangement.

“Well you’re going to have to live with it aren’t you, princess?” he says, booping my nose.

“Touch my face again and I will bite you,” I threaten, my voice low and dangerous.

“Ooo feeling flirty are we? I could get down on some biting action,” he smirks, wiggling his eyebrows , “I look forward to it.”

“Are you proud of that one, aren’t you?” I say, my tone as blunt as my will to live at this point.

He doesn’t reply.

“That’s sad,” I hum.

“So are we sleeping or do you want to stay up all night discussing your troubles with me?” he asks turning to look at me.

“Sleeping,” I grumble, laying down with my back towards him.

“Goodnight princess,” he whispers, as he turns off the lamp.

“I hope you die in your sleep,” I murmur back.

He chuckles softly and I hear him roll over. I don’t remember anything after that.

***

When I wake up I’m immediately pissed off. It’s the morning and I still feel groggy and unrefreshed. The mattress feels a little different. I slowly open my eyes that seemed as though they’d been velcroed shut. That’s when I come to a horrible realisation.

I’m on his chest. I am laying on Jameson Hawthorne’s chest. And he has his arms around me. We are CUDDLING. I’m in the same bed, hugging a man I despise more than anyone on this planet. I want to die.

“Couldn’t keep your hands off me could you princess,” says a familiar, aggravating voice.

I scream, jumping away from him quickly. Why the hell were we positioned like that? How could that just have happened? Why did it have to happen? I curse myself for ever agreeing to sleeping in the stupid bed with that.

“Jesus woman it’s 7am, no need to bust my eardrums,” Jameson complains, caressing his ears.

In any normal circumstance is would’ve had a go at him for calling me ‘woman’ like that, but this circumstance was anything but I normal.

“What was that?” I pant, “why were you on me?”

“Actually princess, I think you’ll find it was the other way around,” he says coolly, “you were on me.”

“You did that on purpose,” I spit, my eyes pinned to him, glaring furiously.

“I most certainly did not,” he replies, his voice louder, more dominant, defensive. He looks slightly offended I would even suggest such a thing.

“Yes you did,” I tell him.

But he doesn’t care what I’m saying, his eyes are fixated on my head, “your hair is a little messed up princess,”

I groan, angry and embarrassed and all that’s in between. I comb a hand through the mass of knots, trying to tame them and failing.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he grins, cocking his head to one side.

“Piss off,” I growl, narrowing my eyes at him.

“Hey!” he exclaims, “we were cuddling a second ago.”

“No we weren’t, that never happened,” I say quickly.

“I’m pretty sure it did,” he grins.

“Jameson Hawthorne I swear to everything on this earth if you do not shut your mouth you will be sorry,” I murmur, threat etched in every decibel of my tone.

And he shut it. He actually shut it… for about two seconds

He leans back and the corners of his mouth turn upward, he’s suspiciously amused, “I’ll make you a wager.”

“I don’t want your wager,” I snap.

“Then I won’t shut up,” he shrugs.

“What’s the wager?” I respond almost immediately. Now he knows this is going to get to me he’ll use it against me. And I can’t have that. He can’t have the power.

“Kiss me and I won’t utter a word of what happened in this room to anyone,” he whispers, “not you, not my brothers, no one… our little secret?”

“I sincerely hope you’re joking,” I force a laugh.

“Just one little kiss and it all goes away,” Jameson murmurs, his voice alluring.

“No,” I shake my head. I will not agree, I will not fall down the slippery slope, I will not allow myself to be in this position.

“Okay fine,” he shrugs, smirking, “I suppose everyone shall know about your night spent with the infamous Jameson Hawthorne. Hey, it might make national news-“

I cut him off, pushing my lips onto his. Hard. I close my eyes. He kisses back, intensely, hungrily, passionately. And I can’t seem to stop either. All this anger, all this hate, all this built up fury is finally being let go. I want him to taste my hatred for him, I want him to feel my loathing, to ache when he gets a touch of my aggravation. He doesn’t to hold back and neither do I. His hands are snaking around my waist and mine are buried deep in his hair. I know I need to take a breath but my brain has somehow stopped functioning and all it wants is his lips pressed against my own. I can feel his hands making their way up my back, his touch more tentative than I’d ever imagined. Mine travel down to his next, where I cling to him, my nails digging into the delicate skin. Does he feel the pain? Does he care? If he does he doesn’t show it. His hands are now in my hair, tugging and ripping at every strand. But I don’t care. Because I know that this is his hate for me that I’m feeling and it’s giving me this buzz. This buzz of electrical passion and I don’t know why. He’s so rough with me and yet so gentle. The movement is so powerful and yet when we collide he treats my being like it’s a glass ballerina. Like I might break into a million shards and shatter onto the ground. And suddenly I’m pushing him away, my hands act on their own instinct. We both stand there, the only sound is our panting breaths, as we lock eyes.

“I upheld my end of the bargain, now you uphold yours,” I breathe heavily, my chest heaving up and down.

“You have my word,” Jameson whispers, smiling as he brings a soft and gentle finger to your lips.

a/n: I actually had the most fun writing this and I’m a actually quite proud of it… so hope you guys enjoyed as well. As always, requests are open and let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list :) thanks for reading 🤍🤍

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