#that i know everything else in my mind is blanked out and someone wrote the word “aaaaabs” like everywhere

[iceclew]

L-listen I...

I can explain..

I may have crossed the path of windbreaker today, and.. and.. I MEAN...MIGHT BE COMPENSATING THE LACK OF A CERTAIN DOOFUS BUT ALSO BADASS BOWL CUT HERE,.... BUT I SORTA FELL IN LOVE WITH ANOTHER DOOFUS BUT ALSO BADASS BOWLCUT, I AM SORRY, YOUR HONOR, BUT TO MY DEFENSE HE WAS FCKING SHIRTLESS FOR LIKE A GOODDAMN MINUTE OR TWO!!!

[briefalpacashark]

~Ghost of the past~

When returning to your hometown you faced with some unpleasant memories.

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You stared. Your eyes locked on the projection in front of you. You sat with the boys all in a little meeting room as Price walked you through your next mission.

“Australia?” Soap asked.

“That's right. We got a lead that there a weapons cache. One of makarovs. We head in. Clear it out and take a few prisoners for questioning,” Price explained.

“Excited to go home lass?” You looked over the photos of the familiar landscape. Your expression was blank as you comprehend what Price was telling you.

“Lass?” Everyone's attention turned to you. 

“Huh?” You asked, snapping out of your little trance.

“You alright?” Gaz asked, giving your side a little nudge. Your usual bright smile graced your lips as you leaned back in the chair.

“Of course. Sorry Jonny. Was in my own little world. Whadya say?” you asked. You could feel it. The anxiety creeping up your spine. Ticking the back of your ribs.

“Asked if ya excited to go home?” Soap repeated with a grin. You smiled bashfully nodding your head.

“Of course. Where about we going?” you asked Price. He smiled warmly happy with what he was about to tell you.

“We're actually going to your old base, you got family down there, don't you?” he asked. The fear gripped your lungs, stopping any hope of breathing. You nodded.

“You got any hot sisters?” Soap asked. You chuckled, shaking your head. 

You were going home?

“Sorry Jonny. Only got a brother,” you said.

“Damn,” he faked disappointment as Gaz chuckled. Price smiled at the interaction.

“Who we working with?” you asked. 

“Australian special forces. Not sure what team yet,” he stated. 

That's fine. You thought. There were plenty of special forces units. The chances of meeting your old team were slim. But it was still there. You nodded, readjusting in your seat. You could feel the room getting small. The air getting thicker. You didn't take anything else in after that. Your forced smile stayed upon your lips the entire time. And inside your mind was a mess. A storm of past events that had haunted you for many a day and in the dark of night when you searched for sleep. 

“Doc want to come up here and give us a brief. We’ll be out in the bush and Laswell said you might know an insider's thing or two,” he gestured you up. All the fear and anxiety you felt was pushed way down low, locked away and covered in a black curtain. After all there was no use in worrying about something you couldn't change.

“Alright,” You cracked your knuckles slaughtering over to the white board.

“Rule number one!” You took a marker writing the word death in big letters.

“Anything and everything can and will try to kill you. And when I mean everything, I mean everything. No matter what, check your boots every time before you put them on. One bite from a funnel web and you're dead,” You took on a half joking half serious tone as you slapped the board.

“I can almost guarantee that you will come across a snake. Half of them are venomous, the other half aint. But they both will leave you alone if you leave them alone. You see a snake, you stay still, let him pass and then walk away. DO! NOT! PESTER! THE WILDLIFE! They can and will fuck you up,” the boys grinned as you emphasised the next words.

“Rule number two,” You wrote the word etiquette.

“When meeting someone or walking past someone you will be asked this question. Howya goin? Translated, it means how are you going. This is not a question. It is not an innovation to have a conversation. This is a greeting. The only appropriate response to this greeting are as follows,

Not to bad.

Could be better.

Good mate.

You can then have the option to say, yourself? It gives them the option to answer the same question. Do not feel offended if they dont answer,” You stated. 

“You will be called every name under the god damn sun. You will be called a cunt. It can be used as the greatest sign of affection and the greatest insult. It's all based on how they say it. Pay attention to the tone,” you said.

“You haven't called us cunts before. That mean you don't love us?” Soap asked.

“Speak for yourself,” Price spoke up. You grinned, turning back to the board. 

“Do not call anyone champ. That is the worst insult you can give, it will get you punched,” you wrote the word champ and put a larger x across it.

“If you are driving and someone gives way to you, always and I mean always give them a nod and a two-finger wave,” you explained demonstrating the movement.

“And for the love of god beware the drop bears,” you took a deathly serious tone as you wrote the word.

“The fuck is a drop bear?” Gaz asked. You turned staring deeply into their souls,

“They're about as big as a dog. Corse grey fur, one the most vicious animals you will meet down under. They hide in trees and drop down on unsuspecting prey, on unsuspecting people. They'll rip you to shreds faster than any of the bears here. Tear your face right of the bone” Inside you were howling with laughter as the flashes of fear you saw in the boys' faces. “Alright, that about covers it. Follow those rules and you should be fine,” You smiled cheerily.

On the flight over you found yourself staring deeply at the other side of the cargo area. It was actually happening. You thought about opting out of the mission. Using some bull shit excuse that excused you from attending. Price would have allowed it. 

And leave your team all alone? You smiled, shaking your head. No matter how scared you were, you would never abandon them. After all you had faced worse. Much worse.

But you didn't know if you could face them again.

Them?

Your old team. Every face is still fresh in your mind, as if you had only seen them yesterday. Leaning back, you closed your eyes as the plane started to descend. The fear was fighting to break free.

“You've been awfully quiet,” Your eyes snapped open, and you looked to your left where Ghost sat. His gaze was forward facing his arms crossed over his chest.

“Nervous I guess,” you chuckled. He slowly looked to you his eyes burning into your own seeming to look for whatever secret you were keeping. 

“How long has it been?” he asked.

“Not long enough,” with his eyes boring into yours you felt as if the truth was trusted out from your chest. He hummed, seeming to get everything he wanted from the interaction before returning to his quiet self.

The plane landed and the back ramp opened up. Heaving your bag onto your shoulders you let the boys take the lead, hoping to use their tall asses to keep you hidden. The hot Australian sun of the great QLD hit you all like a wave. You had gotten used to the rain and shady weather of the Uk. You all walked out and onto the tarmac.

“Hot as balls in ear,” Soap commented.

“Captain Price!” Your group made your way over to the soldier that had been sent to greet you. He was a colonel. A well decorated one by the look of his badges. You were glad when you didn't recognize him.

“Colonel James, I presume?” Price asked as they shook hands.

“You presume right. Welcome to Australia, come on,” he nodded you to follow. As you walked you began to feel eyes set upon you. You saw familiar faces mixed in with the crowd. Some recognized you. some didn't.

“I know Ghost is scary, but anyone feel like they're getting more looks than usual?” Gaz asked as he looked around.

“Yeah,” Soap agreed. You kept your eyes on Ghost back hoping to just get inside as soon as possible.

“Fucken hell,” Your blood ran cold at the familiar voice. 

“Ah. Captain. This is Major Adam. He leads the squad you'll be working besides,” the colonel just confirmed your worst-case scenario. “Also known as the Bloody Hells,” your hand instinctively tightens around the gun you carried casually in front of you. You wouldn't believe your luck, actually you could believe your luck. Trust lady luck to throw such a twisted day at you. 

“They wernt fucking about with you lot,” Major Adam stated as he looked Ghost up and down.

“Major,” The colonel warned.

“Come on mate. We're gonna risk our necks with these boys. I think we can dispense with the formalities. Call me Adam. none of that major shit,” Adam went through the lads introducing himself. And they in return.

“Isn't there supposed to be one more of you?” Adam asked. You prayed with all your might that Ghost would stay where he was. That you could hide behind him for the whole mission if possible. Only he looked back towards you stepping back to put you on full view. Adam eyes dropped from Ghost to you. Everything froze as he gave you a kind sad smile. He did look different in the slightest. Still the same drop-dead gorgeous face. Perfect bone structure and curly black hair. His face brought back a flood of memories.

“Y/N,” the way he so tenderly used your name made you want to puke. You clench your jaw as you debate on what exactly you should do. 

“Major,” You gave a curt nod.

“You two know each other?” Price asked calculating your reaction.

“She's a part of our team,” Adam stated simply.

“Used to be. This is my team now,” You nodded to the boys. Adam smiled with an understanding nod.

“Of course. But can I just say a goodbye would have been nice. Hell, even a reason as to why you left,” You couldn't believe the audacity of the man in front of you. He knew exactly why you had left. And he knew you knew. That sweet little smile he wore twisted ever so sinisterly at its edges. 

“Oh, Sargent Y/L/N?” The colonel asked.

“That's her name. She prefers to go by Maddog though,” Adam chuckled light heartedly.

“Mad dog?” Soap asked, turning to you. The boys were all watching you, unsecure of what to make of your behavior. 

“Old nick name,” you stated simply. From the moment he had arrived you had yet to take your eyes of Adam. Yet to release the tight hold you had on your weapon.

“Well, it's an honor. Heard a lot about your work from my brother. He's a medic as well,” The colonel gave you a kind smile.

“Maybe you could give the kid a few pointers,” Adam suggested. 

“Maybe,” you bit. You just wanted it all to be over. You wanted to get out of there. You wanted to get away from the interaction. Away from him. An awkward silence passed over the group as Adam stared at you.

“Well let's get you situated,” The colonel gestured your group forward. Adam gave you all a nod as you passed. Only his hand snapped out gripping painfully tight onto your upper arm.

“Welcome home sweetheart,” Adam smirked as he whispered the words. Your eyes narrowed into a glare. 

“Let go,” you ordered. His smirk widened but he refused to move. 

“What? Didn't you miss me?” he asked.

“Doc!” you both turned to the group who had walked a few steps away. Ghost had already turned to you having been the first to notice your missing presence. The rest turned to the call. The boys could all see it. How rigid your body was. How posed it was to jump into combat at a moment's notice. How white your knuckles had gotten because of your tight grip.

“Behave. Wouldn't want your new friends getting hurt,” the warning Adam gave you had you ripping your arm from his grasp.

“I could say the same to you,” you whispered back before jogging up to your team giving them a reassuring smile.

As you were unpacking your things you could feel the gazes of the boys on your back.

“Sooooooo,” Soap trailed off.

“He was the lead of my old team. Things didn't end on good terms,” you answered quickly.

“Things?” Soap was trying to lighten the mood with his teasing tone. You were surprised when you practically slammed your locker closed.

“I'll be back soon,” you rushed the words out as you left, keeping your back to the boys. As soon as you closed the doors they shared looks.

“She's been a mess since you told us we were comen here,” Ghost announced.

“So you noticed too?” Price asked, readjusting on his cot.

“Should we be worried?” Gaz asked. They had never dealt with this side of you before. 

“That Adam guy seems nice,” Soap shrugged.

“Too nice,” Ghost muttered.

So there you were. ACDC music blasting in the shed you currently resided in. At the moment you were gutting an old truck. Tearing it apart screw by screw, bolt by bolt. It was a part of the engineer's program you guys had. New recruits had to build it completely from scratch. That meant it had to be taken apart first. It was the job everyone hated. Yet since the start of your military career you had one day been volunteered for such a task. You found a strange solace in the task. Solace you so desperately needed as your emotions decided to play trip wire with your body. It was night by the time your team came to find you. You peeked at them around the truck. You expected questions, Soaps prying nature to take over. Instead, they found scattered items to act as seats as they cracked open a few beers. Definitely not army regulation. They didn't pry, they knew you didn't want to talk about it. It brought a warm fuzzy feeling to your belly. They were there to support you. To show you, you weren't alone.

“Need a hand?” Ghost asked as he offered you a beer. 

“Sure, grab a spanner,” you took the beer, cracking it open and sculling it. Praying to find a calm in the effects of alcohol.

“What are we fixing?” he asked, looking over the half dismantled truck.

“Not fixing, pulling apart. All of it,” you stated licking the foam from your lips. You had failed to notice Ghost gaze as it trailed over your face, your lips, and your neck and upper chest that glistened with sweat. 

“Seems simple enough,” he nodded.

“That's not wise. Ghost and vehicles don't mix,” Soap spoke up. A small smile worked its way onto your face as the other laughed. 

“Don't worry Ghost. I trust ya,” you whispered jokingly to him offering him a wink. He gave a grunt as he got to work. He was wearing a short sleeve, giving you a perfect view of his muscles that rippled under his skin with each movement. As you worked you stole glances at his tattooed sleeve. 

“See something you like love?” your eyes snapped up to his face thinking you had been caught out. Only his gaze was focused on the machine in front of him.

“Nah, just something shockingly ugly,” you joked. Again, you could swear his mask tilted into a smile.

“You just smiled,” you stated proudly.

“I don't smile,” he shut you down quickly. 

“Sure,” you nodded not believing him in the slightest.

“Is she here!?” you frowned at the demand. The yell echoing through the shed.

“Woah kid. Slow down,” Price stood to meet the soldier that had just run to them.

“Is she here?” he pressed. You stepped out from behind Ghost spotting a member from your old team. Jamie. Sweet kid. Red hair and a baby face. Good heart. When he saw you, his face crumpled, his body filled with guilt. And relief?

“So you're really alive?” he asked. The boys gave you confused glances at his statement. You became very invested in getting the grease stains off your hands. “It would seem so,” you muttered. It was silent as Jamie simply stared at you.

“What do you want Jamie?” you asked softly. Too softly. Tears started to gather in his eyes.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. Your eyes snapped up at the words. 

“I'm so sorry,” he kept repeating the words as you stalked forward.

“Shut up,” you demanded.

“I- I didn't want to. I should have never done it. Im so so sorry,” the words tumbled out of his mouth in a jumbled mess.

“Get lost Jamie,” You ordered.

“Mad dog please,” he begged.

“I said get lost!” you snapped.

“Please, I know it was wrong. I just. I was scared ok. And we were given orders. I- I didn't know what to do,” he was begging at this point.

“Oh you were scared were you?” You asked sarcastically. His mouth clamped shut. You had been sacred. Terrified. That fear lived in your heart, forever embedded into your memory. And what had he done for it. Nothing. “Come on,” you tried to drag him away. Tried to hide whatever would come to light from the boys. Only Jamie stopped pulling back from your grip. 

“He said you were dead,” he whispered. Your hand snapped out gripping tightly onto his collar.

Your mind plunged you back to that fateful day. The day you were standing on hell's doorstep. Bloodied and bruised from your efforts to save your team. The day your team fled in the safety of a helicopter. The day they saw you. Each and every one of them saw you. Alive and fighting for your goddamn life all alone. The day they left you to die. Jamie knew the words he had just said were a lie. His face wouldn't have scrunched up in such an ashamed way if he didn't.

“Doc?” Price called you softly. They weren't sure what you were about to do. But they all stood at the ready.

“Let's talk about this elsewhere,” you demanded once again, going to pull him away.

“No,” he pulled back again. “I'm not leaving until you listen to me,” He stayed. Fine if he wanted to have the conversation you'd have the conversation. 

“What did you come here for Jamie? Forgiveness?” You asked softly. He was still the kid you took under your wing. He was still the boy you had fought beside. Shed blood beside.

“Forgive what? Huh?” you asked. You wanted him to answer. To admit what he had done.

“Please,” he begged. Your resolve wasn't easy to break. But Jamie always had a special place in your heart. He reminded you of your little brother. That made it all the more painful.

“Were human Jamie. We all have moments of weakness. Of cowardice,” you whispered. “I won't blame you for that. I'll forgive you for that,” you stated. You saw the slightest hope in his eyes.

“But I'll never forget,” you finished diminishing that hope.

“A moment of weakness is understandable,” you added. You released his collar fixing it. 

“How long has it been since we last met?” you asked.

“About two years,” he answered in slight confusion.

“Damn long time for a moment of weakness huh?” you asked bitterly. Shame consumed him as he cast his eyes to the ground.

“Fuck of Jamie,” you ordered softly. He walked off without a word of protest, his tail tucked between his legs.

“And Jamie,” you called after him. He turned awaiting your next words.

“He's gonna get you killed,” you said. He didn't acknowledge your words, but you could see they had wormed their way into his brain. And a little part of him knew you were right. 

You could feel the boy's eyes bore into you. Trying to make sense of what had just happened. 

Silently you walked back over to the truck, picking up your discarded wrench and getting back to work. 

“You alright love?” Price asked. The boys were shocked when you showed them your usual bright smile. They were surprised at how normal you could act, but they all knew the smile on your face wasn't accurate to what you were feeling inside. 

“I'm fine, boys,” you said.

“I'd like to be alone for a bit, if it's alright you you lot?” you suggested casually. 

“Yeah, yeah. Course,” Price nodded, gesturing for the boys to leave.

“Well be back at base if you need anything,” he added before walking off. You waited till you couldn't hear the foot falls before you dropped your head into your hand, the tears flowing from your eyes like a tap. 

God, what had you gotten yourself into. 

Your soft sobs echoed in the shed, being just loud enough for the boys to hear.

It was late when you walked into the tent. You knew the boys would have woken up with your arrival, but they stayed in their sleeping positions. You looked over them. How many times had they risked their life for you. How many times had they saved you. 

They had saved you.

Joining the 141 saved you. 

And you were damned if you were to let anything happen to them.

“Price,” you walked over to him. He opened his eyes quickly sitting up.

“Need anything love?” he asked. 

“We can't go on this mission,” you said. He frowned, glancing at the others who had all sat up.

“Whadya mean?” he asked you to elaborate.

“Adam’s a snake sir. He will fuck us over without a second thought if it means getting what he wants. We can't trust him. And we can't go on this mission. It's too dangerous,” you spoke firmly. The only betrayal to the hard font you put on being the red puffy eyes from crying.

“That's not really an option Doc,” he said.

“Then make it one,” you pressed. He pressed his lips together, sighing. You had never asked anything of him. You had trusted his every order, his every choice. “Doc, we all have history. But we are soldiers. Shit goes wrong all the time,” he was trying to reason with you. Trying to make you see that whatever lovers quarrel you had with Adam meant nothing. That's what he thought it was. He would never be able to guess the severity of what had happened.

“Please Sir. I'm begging you, Please don't make us go on this mission,” they hated how frail you sounded. How broken. Price wanted at that very moment to give into you. To do as you said. But he didn't have the full story.

“If I'm gonna do this I need the full story doc,” he gave you the ultimatum. He needed proof to ditch the mission. Reasonable doubt. After all he was a soldier, a good one at that. He couldn't ditch a mission just because one of his soldiers asked him nicely.

“I,” your words got caught in your throat. You wanted to tell him everything. 

But you couldn't.

“I can't say sir,” you admitted.

“Then this conversation is done,” he spoke softly, finishing the discussion. At that moment you hated how rational he was.

“Yes sir,” you whispered, walking over to your bunk and sitting down with your back to the boys. After slipping off your boots you got into bed.

The next day everyone was ready. When the boys had woken up you were nowhere to be seen in the barracks. 

“You think she'll come?” Soap asked as he checked his weapons. To their left the bloody hells were doing final checks as well.

“Don't know,” Price muttered. A soft silence washed over the group as you walked up to them. You wore a simple desert mask that covered the bottom half on you face your eyes blank of emotions. The boys took notice of the guilty bewildered looks the other team gave you. “Well good morning beautiful,” Adam smiled brightly. You paused looking over his face. You had made many memories with the man in front of you. Many sweet and beautiful. But they were all bitter now. Reaching into your pocket you pulled out an old patch. The bloody hells written in red upon it. The edge was stained with blood, the other side burnt slightly. 

“Thought it was time I gave this back,” you muttered holding it out to him. He refused to take it.

“Once a member of the bloody hells always a member,” he said. You huffed.

“Nah mate,” you shock your head, throwing it to his feet.

“Lets get it done,” you said, knocking knuckles with Jonny before getting into the back of the truck.

The mission was a simple one. Get in, clear the base. Collect data and dispose of the weapons. It was going well. You were with your boys. That was until you weren't.

“Tims been hit. Our medics down. We need you MadDog,” you ears rung at the comms. You were currently in a hallway. Price turned back to you.

“This is Doc, what is your position, over?” you asked into the comm.

“West side, next to the green building,” he responded.

“That's the cleared area,” you muttered.

“Take Ghost with you,” Price ordered.

“No, you've still got enemies to face. It's a cleared area, I'll be fine,” you said. You were right and he knew it. He also knew you could handle yourself.

“Look after each other ok,” you ordered before taking off in the direction you had come from.

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--COD Master List Here--

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[natti-ice]

Rafe Cameron Blurb.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x gn!reader

Warnings: angst, you break up with Rafe

Based on the line “This isn't the person I fell in love with.”

Author’s note: this is a reupload, I wrote this a while ago!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

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Things had been off for weeks between you and Rafe. You don't know what happened but something shifted in your relationship. Your relationship wasn't perfect by any means but it was good, you were happy.

You had distanced yourself from Rafe and you couldn't explain why. You just didn't feel the spark that was once there. You had so hundreds of missed calls and texts, you didn't know how to tell him that you didn't love him anymore. You still care for him but you couldn't keep pretending you were in love.

You were sitting in your room trying to come up with a text, your mind was blanking. Everything you typed seemed wrong, there weren't words that would describe how you feel. You settled for a call, maybe he could come over and you could talk about this in person.

You took a deep breath when you clicked his contact, right as you were about press call a faint banging pulled you from your thoughts.

Someone was at the door, no one else was home so you had to get it yourself. You got out of your bed and made your way to the door. You turn the knob, revealing a drained-looking Rafe.

"Rafe," You said "What are you doing here?"

"You've been avoiding me so this is the only way I knew you would talk to me" He was a little irritated, this whole situation has stressed him out so much that he hadn't slept much. "Can I come in?" he asked

You didn't respond, you opened the door more as a yes. Rafe came in and you closed the door behind him, he made his way into the living room like he did every time he came over, you followed close behind. Rafe was slightly pacing in front of the couch, neither of you were speaking.

"What happened to you, Y/N?" he asked, pain evident in his voice

"What do you mean 'what happened to me', nothing happened to me" you said

"Clearly something did" he scoffed "You don't answer my texts, we don't hang out anymore, the last time we spoke you were mean. I don't know what happened but this is not the person I fell in love with."

You didn't know what to say, you knew whatever you had to say would break his heart. You walked to the center of the room, taking a seat on the couch.

"Sit, please?" You asked him

He took a seat next to you, a respectable distance between each other. You knew this conversation was coming sooner or later.

"Rafe, I think we should break up."

"What?" he asked with a puzzled look

"I really wish I could explain it but, I just don't think we're good for each other. I'm sorry." You told him, avoiding eye contact you kept your focus on the floor

"No" he said causing you to look up, it was your turn to be confused

"What do you mean 'no'?"

"No. You can't just forget me for weeks and not have a reason, you're not telling the truth. Please, stop lying to me" He pleaded

"I'm not lying, there's nothing to say-"

"That's bullshit" he cut you off raising his tone

"I don't love you anymore, is that what you want me to say?" you yelled back at him, you were so frustrated by this whole situation

Silence...

"You don't love me anymore?" his voice was scratchy and quiet

"Rafe, I am so sorry." You sympathized

"Did I do something wrong?" Rafe was racking his brain on all the things that he could've done to make you feel this way. He knew he wasn't the best person but he did everything in his power to be better for you.

"No no! You didn't do anything wrong I promise." You grabbed his hand locking both of yours around his "I just don't feel the way I once did, I don't want you to think it's your fault. It's not" You told him watching the many emotions dance across his face, his eyes focused on your hands

"What does this mean for us?" he asked not looking up

You hadn't thought about it, you couldn't lie and say and say you'd stay friends because it probably wasn't true. "Well, we probably won't see each other for a while and when we do it'll be awkward so we will end up avoiding each other like the plague"

Rafe let out a breathy laugh, it had been the first time you saw him smile in a long time. "I'd never avoid you, Y/N."

You knew you'd miss the sweet things he says to you.

"We'll see about that, Rafe" You laughed back

Silence washed over you when the laughing stopped. The awkwardness had already begun.

"I should probably get going then" he sighed getting up from the couch, letting go of your hands.

You followed closely behind him, walking him to the door. When you made it to the door, you both stood there looking at each other waiting for the other to speak first.

Rafe took a big step up to you, wrapping you into a tight hug. He held onto you for a while knowing would probably be the last time he could.

"I love you, Y/N" he whispered

You stayed silent. When he finally let go, he turned around and walked out the door.

[vodika-vibes]

You are a true blessing to this generation of Star Wars fans tbh

May I have female (ex Jedi) inquisitor!reader x empire!cody

Can be fluff or something more serious like an interrogation or a mission

Love you sm <33

It Only Takes A Spark

Summary: Your relationship with Commander Cody is wrong. You know it. He knows it. Yet, neither of you are willing to let the other go.

Pairing: Purge Trooper Cody x F!Inquisitor Reader

Word Count: 2764

Warnings: Mentions of Torture, though nothing is shown in detail

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So...when you said you wanted imperial cody and imperial reader, you really meant you want almost 15 pages of these two doing everything in their power to stay together in spite of everything thrown against them, with a little fix-it hand waving. Right? Because that's what I wrote, lol.

“Ma’am,” You open your eyes and turn your gaze towards the man standing in the doorway, “We’re about to land.”

“Thank you Commander,” You reply, your voice soft as you slowly push to your feet. Pain shoots up your legs, a lingering gift from the Grand Inquisitor.

Commander Cody remains in the doorway, his expression blank but there’s a hint of concern leaking through the force, and you can only sense it because of how well you know the man. “Are you in need of medical treatment, ma’am?”

“I’m afraid that this is nothing that can be fixed, Commander.”

There’s a sharp burst of irritation and frustration and despair, and you glance at him. You know that he’s irrationally protective of you, and you know that he hates everything about this situation, but he’s usually better at containing himself than this.

For a moment there’s no movement, and then Commander Cody reaches out and presses the button that controls the door, allowing the door to slide shut. The room dims, no longer lit by the bright lights of the main part of the ship.

You watch as he pulls his helmet off and stares at you. “The Grand Inquisitor tortured you again, didn’t he?” He’s trying, so hard, to hide the fury in his voice, but he’s not trying hard enough to hide from you.

“You know I’m not a very good Sith, Cody.” You remind him gently, “I felt too deeply as a Jedi, and my Master thought that that would make me a good Sith. Instead I just became…apathetic.”

“You’re hardly apathetic, sarad.”

You glance at him, and tilt your head slightly, “I think you see more of me than anyone else.”

“That I can believe.” Cody absently passes his helmet from one hand to the other, “Tell me, do you think we’ll find a Jedi on this planet?”

You’re quiet for a long moment, “No.” You finally admit, “I think the Grand Inquisitor doesn’t expect us to find anyone here either, but we have to investigate anyway.”

“Good. I’m so…tired of hunting Jedi.”

You’re quiet for an even longer moment, “You volunteered for the position, Cody. You could have stayed a regular trooper.”

“Yeah, and we both know that it’s the only way that I was going to get that advanced aging issue handled.” Cody scoffs, “Plus…” He pauses, “Nevermind.”

“Go ahead. Speak your mind.”

“Joining the Purge Troopers meant that I’m able to protect you, sarad.” He frowns, “Well, in theory. I still can’t protect you from the Grand Inquisitor.” It’s a ridiculous sappy notion, and yet you can’t help but feel touched.

You shake your head, putting the emotions in the little box with all of the other things deserving of your protection, “You worry too much.”

“Someone has to.” Cody replies, and he sounds so tired that you feel a sting of guilt.

He doesn’t belong here. He’s too good for this life, for the Empire. But then, you’ve always known that.

The comm on his wrist chimes, and you watch as he glances at it. Cody exhales slowly, and for a moment his emotions are a whirlwind around him, before they vanish completely, and he pulls his helmet on, “We’ll be landing in five, Ma’am. Will you be joining us up front?”

You don’t answer for a moment, and then you nod once and pull your own helmet on. “Lead the way, Commander.”

Cody leads you through the small ship, and he settles himself at your shoulder as it lands on the planet's largest landing pad. Hardly necessary, you think, but people are funny about Inquisitors showing up on their planet.

You walk down the landing ramp, and a trembling man greets you on the landing pad. “It’s an honor to have an Inquisitor on our humble planet,” He stammers, wringing his hands, “But I assure you, there are no Jedi on Mora.”

“Perhaps.” Your voice is flat, “A report was made, and so we shall investigate. I trust this will not be an issue.”

“No, no! Of course not!” Somehow the Governor wrings his hands even more, “However, if you do find a Jedi…I hope you know that we aren’t harboring them willingly-”

“I will not make any accusation until I determine whether or not there is a Jedi on this planet.” You interrupt, “I wish to speak with the man who made the report.”

“I…yes…of course.” The governor nervously turns his back on you, “This way. I will be more than happy to show you where he lives.”

“You already know who made the report?” Commander Cody asks. 

“Well, yes. He was very proud of it, you see.”

You’re sure that if Cody wasn’t wearing his helmet, he’d be glaring at the Governor hard enough that he’d burst into flames. And, frankly, you don’t blame him. Everything about this situation is screaming that it’s going to be a false report afterall.

Still, a job is a job, so you allow the nervous man to lead you through the winding streets, until you reach a massive house. The Governor’s house, he explains proudly. There’s a young teenage boy sitting on the front steps, nervousness rolling off of him in waves.

The boy looks at you, and then at Cody, and then back to you. Before he looks at the Governor, “You never said that actual Inquisitors would come to interrogate me!” He blurts.

The Governor glares at the boy, and opens his mouth to say something, but you take a step forward, and he stills. “Commander,”

“Ma’am?”

“Ensure the Governor here doesn't run off. Feel free to shoot him if you have to.” You order. You hear Cody unholster his pistols, and the Governor whimpers in fear, but then you’re focused on the boy.

He’s Pantoran, with messily cut lavender hair. His eyes are wide with terror. His clothes are filthy, but not the carefully curated filth that you’d expect from a teenage boy…more like someone who works hard labor.

“You are the person who made the report?” You ask.

“Y-yes ma’am. But I wouldn’t of if I knew that you’d actually come here.” He blurts.

“Then why did you?”

“Um…well…” He nervously fumbles with an old comm, “We…a message went out…”

“ A message?”

“Yeah.”

“Show me.”

The boy opens a message on his comm and hands the small device to you. There, written in black and white, is the message the boy mentioned. A monetary reward to anyone who reports a jedi to the planetary government. 

“We…my ma and pa…we don’t have a lot of money. And I thought…that amount of credits would be enough that we’d have enough food-” The boy rambles, “I’m sorry for wasting your time-”

You pass the comm back to the boy, “Did you ever receive your payment?”

“Yes ma’am, though it was a lot less than he promised.”

“Hm.” You turn your attention to the Governor, “You can go.” You say to the boy. You remain still and quiet as he runs off, and it’s only when you’re sure that the boy won’t get involved that you speak again, “I’m find myself very curious,” You murmur, “As to why you might want an Inquisitor and a Purge Trooper on your planet.”

“I…I didn’t have a choice.”

“Is that right?”

“You have to believe me.”

“I think you’ll find that I do not have to do anything.” You correct quietly, “Commander, bring the Governor inside. We need information from him.”

“Yes ma’am,”

You absently wave your hand at the door, using the force to force it open to allow Cody access to the building. You follow him inside, and shut the door behind you.

“Do you wish to be present for the interrogation, ma’am?”

“It is probably for the best.”

“As you say.”

It takes Cody three hours to pull all of the information out of the Governor, and you watch, impassively, as the nervous man’s body lies sprawled on the ground between the pair of you.

“What do you think?” Cody asks as he cleans his knife.

You’re quiet for a long time, “I think it’s incredibly ballsy for him to claim that that Rebellion forced him to do this.”

“I agree.” Cody checks his knife and then slides it back into its holster, “That said, the Rebellion would probably do a lot of things to get their hands on an Inquisitor and a Purge Trooper.”

You pull your gaze away from the body, “You believe that we are the targets then?”

“Would make sense, wouldn’t it?

“It would.” You agree, “Generally speaking, hunting the Rebellion falls under the purview of the Imperial Army, not the Inquisitors or Purge Troopers.”

“You’re not wrong.” He’s quiet, “We should return to the ship and leave. I do not want you in any more danger than you have to be.”

You open your mouth to say something, and then you pause and tilt your head. “Ah. I fear that this is no longer our decision.”

“What do you-?”

Cody isn’t able to finish as the door bursts open, revealing a large group of people in mismatched armor, led by a man wielding a purple lightsaber.

“...well, it looks like there actually is a Jedi on this planet, ma’am.” Cody says dryly.

“So it would appear.”

Mace Windu, who you thought was dead, slides into the opening stance of Vaapad. “Lower your weapons. You’re both under arrest.”

“Well, seeing as you don’t have any actual authority in the galaxy, I would argue as to the legality of the word arrest,” You say flatly, “But very well. Stand down Commander.”

Cody pauses, and he releases a heavy sigh, as he slowly lowers his weapon to the ground and raises his hands. You, however, just raise your hands.

Mace Windu pulls your lightsaber from your waist, and hooks it on his own, and he roughly slaps force suppressors around your wrists.

Which is unfortunate, really. Since the force was the only thing keeping you conscious.

The last thing you hear as the world goes dark is Cody’s loud cursing.

Cody impatiently paces the cell that he’s been thrown in.

Well, it’s a room, with its own fresher and a very comfortable bed. But it’s still locked from the outside, which makes it a very comfortable cell, but a cell all the same.

He feels naked without his armor, but he does understand why he wasn’t allowed to keep it. He wouldn’t have allowed an enemy combatant to keep their armor either.

At least they gave him clothes to wear. Comfortable clothes even. 

And he is getting three meals a day, though, tellingly, no one has come to deliver the meals personally. Instead they’re being delivered by Skywalker’s protocol droid.

Not that Cody’s been too eager to talk to anyone.

His mind is locked on his sarad. And on the way she crumpled when the cuffs were slapped around her wrists.

Cody’s no fool. He knew that she was badly injured. He knew that she was using the Force to keep herself going. He hadn’t, however, been aware as to the extent of her injuries.

If he had he wouldn’t have allowed her to leave the ship at all.

Not that it matters at this point, of course.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts at the sound of his cell door sliding open. Cody half expects to see that damned droid again, so he’s genuinely surprised to see Rex and Wolffe standing there.

With Obi-Wan Kenobi standing behind them. 

“Cody!” Rex and Wolffe hurry into the room, stopping several feet away from him, “You’re alive!” Rex says, “I thought…for sure-”

“As if I would die so easily,” Cody replies, “I heard that you went down with your ship, though.”

“Yeah, well…” He shrugs awkwardly, “I did. I got lucky.”

“How’d you become a Purge Trooper, vod. I thought only NatBorns were slated for that.” Wolffe says, a frown on his face.

“It makes sense,” Obi-Wan says from the back of the room, “Anakin would absolutely want to keep you close.”

“I volunteered.” Cody says flatly, and when the three men jerk back in surprise, he continues, “Where is she? The Inquisitor I was with. What did you do to her?”

“She’s in the infirmary.” Rex answers without thinking, “We didn’t hurt her, vod.”

“I want to see her.”

“No one’s being allowed to see her.” Obi-Wan says, “She’s too dangerous.”

Cody’s smile is all teeth, “I’m dangerous. And I’m going to be more so unless you let me see her. And that is a goddamn threat.”

“Okay, easy there vod.” Wolffe says, “General, we can let him see her, right? So this doesn’t become a thing?”

“I think we probably should.” Obi-Wan agrees, sounding slightly shaken, “You’re not going to cause any problems, are you commander?”

“That depends on her.”

“Okay, that’s fair.” Obi-Wan pushes his hand through his graying hair, “Let’s go then.”

The infirmary where they’re keeping his sarad isn’t that far away. Which makes sense, you wouldn’t want an infirmary for prisoners located in the same place as an infirmary for everyone else.

Obi-Wan opens the door with a wave of a keycard, and then Cody ignores the three men walking with him. He pushes between his brothers and crosses the room to the bed where his sarad is sitting and peering out the barred windows.

“Hey,” She turns at the sound of his voice and he jolts when he sees her normal eye color, rather than the striking gold he had gotten used to, “Look at you.” Cody murmurs as he sits on the edge of the bed and presses a hand against her cheek, “No gold.”

Her lips turn up into the tiniest smile, “No force.” She offers as she holds up a single wrist.

“Are you okay?”

She considers his question for a moment, “I’m not in pain,” She finally says, “I had forgotten what it was like to not be in pain.”

“Oh, sarad.”

“I’m okay, Cody.” She reassures quietly, “Are you?”

“Yeah. They’ve been very kind so far.” He carefully tucks some of her hair behind her ear, “Has anyone come to talk to you yet?”

“No. No one.”

“Well, that’s okay then.” Cody says with a sigh, “I’d be cross if they were interrogating you while you were recovering from a medical procedure.”

“You’ll be cross anyway,” she points out as she lifts one hand to press against his, “You’re so protective.”

“Someone has to be.” Cody replies. 

Her small smile fades slightly, “Cody…”

“Hm?”

“...if you want to stay here. To stay with your brothers…I wouldn’t tell anyone.” She says quietly, “You…don’t belong with the Empire.”

“And you do?” Cody asks, not touching on her first comment.

She drops her gaze, “We both know that my master will never let me go. You don’t deserve to suffer my fate.”

“My place, sarad,” Cody replies as he uses a single finger to lift her chin, “is by your side. No matter where you might be.” He leans in and lightly bumps his forehead against hers, uncaring for the audience. “It doesn’t matter what you choose. Whether it’s returning to the Empire, staying here with the Rebellion, or moving to Tatooine to pick up moisture farming. I’m going to be right there next to you.”

She stares at him, and then her nose scrunches up adorably, “Moisture Farming?”

“Hey, you never know. Maybe you’ll like it.” It’s something of a relief though, seeing some of her personality peeking through the shroud of apathy she adopted to survive the Empire.

Cody brushes his finger down her cheek, an idea starting to form, “You know…” He murmurs, “We could stay.”

“They’ll never let me stay.”

“They,” Cody says, his voice raising slightly so that their audience can hear you, “are two members of the Jedi Council who were so incapable of doing their duty that they allowed a large number of their padawans to get kidnapped and tortured.”

“...rather uncalled for, Commander.” Obi-Wan mutters from the doorway.

“If and when your Master comes looking for you, he’ll also have to deal with me. And I’ve become very good at killing Force users.” Cody adds with a wry smile.

She sighs softly, and her eyes close, “Alright then.” Her free hand comes up to press against his cheek, “We’ll try it your way.”

“I promise, sarad, no one will ever hurt you again.”

And a genuine smile crosses her face as she moves her other hand to press against his cheek, “Well, if you say so then it must be true.”

[kyberblade]

Give It To Me In Basic (Din x Reader)

A/N: This is just something that the premise came to mind when I listened to a song and I couldn’t let it sit. I wrote it in practically one sitting and just saw where it went - it was basically an exercise to stretch my writing muscles after a while away, and it felt really good! It’s incredibly sappy and domestic and I hope you like it. 🥹 (Not a part of my other series, this is an entirely new Din x Reader to me. Hi. Hello.) I also wanted to try writing in “she/her” instead of “you”, but this is still definitely an entirely blank reader insert. No physical descriptions are used. No mention of Y/N.

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Summary: Din finds softness after a life of rigidity, and he’s not willing to let it go. (*Chandler Bing voice* Could I have been more vague?)

Warnings: Fluff? Like tooth rotting amounts of fluff and domesticity. Din being a sap. Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, and Din is once again a warning in and of himself in this one. Swearing. Mentions of typical show violence. Mando’a. Swearing. Mentions of pregnancy at the end. Some spoilers if you squint? (But if you’re here, you know how this works.) (No but like really, it follows the plot of season 2 and TBoBF, so mentions of that briefly, if you don’t want that spoiled, don’t read.) Helmetless Din. What? Who said that? 👀😬 Again: No mention of Y/N. (In fact this is written as “she/her” instead of “you”, but is an entirely blank reader insert.)

Word count: 1,206 (I know. I am as shocked as you are at how brief this is.)

Thanks to @fordo-kixed-rex for reading over this and sending me a caps locked series of texts as a response. And to @what-the-heckin-heck and @littlemisspascal for telling me it’s not too fluffy/sappy/much.

Masterlist

Xxx

There was a softness Din had come to know, grown familiar with, and let it entangle with his life like a well kept plant on someone’s warm windowsill.

It had snuck up on him when he’d least expected it. Not in the middle of a battle, or on some backwater planet, but in the quiet moments in between.

It had a heart unlike anything he’d ever seen. Something vibrant and larger than life, that welcomed him and his son with open arms and without a second glance.

The heart was worn on the sleeve of a woman, who by every standard was normal, nothing brilliant or captivating, but to Din she was everything. He couldn’t look away whenever she was nearby, her beauty both inside and out something that pulled him in with a force he didn’t understand.

Her touch sent shockwaves across his skin, the first time she shook his hand making him shudder even through his gloves. As time went on and he found himself lost in a darkened hull of the Crest, the woman at his side as they tangled further up in one another, his breath caught in his chest as her slight hand reached up to cup his cheek.

It wasn’t the touch of a lover, the sensuality of the trace of her fingers that stole from him. It was the closeness. The nearness. Something in the touch felt like home.

And he never felt at home again unless those hands were cradling him in some way, even through his armor. He’d lean into the touch, though he couldn’t feel it through his beskar, he swore he could. This was home. This is what he was trying to come back to.

Her laugh made him laugh. A foreign and buzzing feeling climbing out of his chest. Just the thought of it made him chuckle, shaking his head and telling his contact it was nothing, he was just amazed the bounty was so stupid.

Maybe it was selfish, but he didn’t want to share her with anyone. He’d found a little slice of happiness in this godforsaken galaxy, why did he have to let anyone else know about it?

When he lay on the ground, wind knocked out of him after an enemy had gotten a lucky hit, it wasn’t the sky above he saw, it was her eyes. They sparkled mischievously at him anytime she plotted her next move, often to get him to just relax. 

For years he’d seen calculating gazes, sneers, narrowed eyes of distrust and hate. He saw none of these with her. Only peace.

How ironic, he thought, getting back to his feet before causing carnage. To get back to the softness, there must first be all this chaos.

He saw it each time he came home. The light dulled just slightly in her eyes. She loved him just as much, if not more than before, but she longed to tell him while looking into his own eyes. She knew the Creed. She understood. Doesn’t mean it hurt any less. For either of them.

It was a night on the Crest, he woke with a start at the silence. He didn’t hear the child’s snores. Realization sunk in as he remembered the kid was with the Jedi. He was used to the silence as he slept, then he became used to the kids soft sounds, but they’re gone now. But slowly he eased back asleep, his eyes falling slowly shut when he realized she was there, in his arms, breathing deep and sound asleep…. His new familiar. He softly smiled as she started to snore.

Now the child was back in his care, and he was off to Mandalore to restore his honor, become a Mandalorian in the eyes of the Creed once more. His new ship had no room for anyone other than himself and Grogu, so he made arrangements to leave her on Navarro with Karga. 

After a private goodbye, where he saw the disappointment she would never voice once again painting her features, he set the ship to ascend up into the atmosphere. Once he was just above the clouds, he made a last minute decision, hailing her on her comm as he made a loop to come back around under the cloud cover.

“Look up,” was all he would say. 

But as he made a final pass by, just under the clouds without his helmet, he could see her on the ground, her smile like a beacon for miles around. From this distance the only thing she could really see clearly was his smile, but that was everything.

Her breath stuttered over the comm. “Meh'shab? Me'dinuir…. Ranov'la. Me'dinuir…. Mesh’la.” (“The fuck? To share…. Secret. To give each other…. Beautiful.”)

Din laughed. “Wanna try that again?”

She huffed. “Sorry. Ori'meshla.” (“Very beautiful.”)

Din snorted out a laugh.

She sighed, her words coming out barely above a breath. “Stars, I hope our ad has your smile.” (“Child.”)

Din paused, about to pull up on the controls. “What?”

“Wayii! Did I say that out loud?” She looked up to see Din circling lower and lower. “Don’t you dare land, Din Djarin.” The N1 was getting lower still as she spoke. “I mean it. You have planets to save. People to meet and-” The exhaust of the starfighter sent her hair every which way, her face scrunching up against the gust. “What was I thinking you would do, I don’t know?” The last words were mumbled into Din’s chest plate, his arms pulling her into him as soon as he was back on the ground. (Exclamation of surprise)

“Are you….?” His voice was barely above a whisper, his modulator popping with the lack of sound behind it.

She nodded into his beskar. “Yaihadla.”

“As much as I love you speaking Mando’a, just give it to me in Basic. My brain isn’t working properly right now-”

She tilted her head back to look up into his visor, her voice soft. “I’m pregnant, Din.” Her eyes scanned over his helmet, searching for purchase. “You’re gonna be a dad, Djarin.” Grogu squealed from the cockpit of the N1, pulling her eyes over toward the tiny green ward, and a smile up her face. “Well, again. You’ll be a dad, again.”

Din froze for a moment before reaching up and ripping his helmet off, immediately pulling her into a searing kiss. Her muffled sounds of surprise melted away after just a moment, her arms coming up around his neck to pull him closer still, and causing his lips to pull up into a smile against her own. Finally breaking the kiss, he leaned his forehead against hers, both of them breathing heavily.

“Careful,” she teased, “that’s how we got into this situation in the first place.”

Din just shook his head in amusement at her, chuckling, and never removing his forehead from hers. Looking up through his lashes, he found her already doing the same to him. “Hi,” he muttered quietly.

“Hi,” she replied on a breath, making his smile pull higher still. “Osik,” she continued on a breath, going on when he cocked his head to the side, pulling back just slightly. “I really hope they get your smile.” (“Shit.”)

Xxx

Everything Tags: @lam-ila @oliviajdjarin @peonyophelia @itsavicf @jxvipike @momc95 @babygirlrex0504 @harriedandharassed @burningfieldof-clover @theclassicvinyldragon What’s This?

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [6] - Hibiscus

A.N: Thank you so much for your amazing feedback and support my loves!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: Whispers are made for midnights.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of possibility of physical abuse, past trauma and violence.

Word Count: 5600

Series Masterlist

No matter what anyone else thought or assumed, you weren’t jealous.

That would have been ridiculous. Getting jealous of someone like him, someone who was the complete opposite of you with his silly fixation of love was out of question, so at best you were merely annoyed by this whole…

Charade.

That was what it was. It was an absolute charade, and you still found it hard to believe that you were somehow caught in the middle of it.

“Clover my dear, you’re not going to believe this,” your aunt’s voice made your head snap up from the geraniums you were currently tending to in the garden.

“Good morning to you too auntie,” you said, wiping the sweat off your brow before taking your gardening gloves off. “What’s happened?”

She waved what looked to be the newest issue of Whistledown at you.

“Look at this!”

“What?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat. “Don’t tell me she wrote about me again. I didn’t even attend the last ball, there’s nothing to write about.”

“Well, you were not there but Kitty Morris was,” she said, still waving the paper. “And she has made use of your absence, if you don’t mind me saying. Look at the first paragraph.”

You frowned and reached out to take the paper from her, then skimmed the lines.

Dear Readers,

It seems that the ton’s favorite artist Benedict Bridgerton’s attention is quite easy to sway. As if it was not enough that Charlotte Harlowe’s hopes for a matrimony with him has been shut down quite brutally with Miss Y/N’s sudden raise to suitors’ demand, it certainly looks like Kitty Morris might have just gotten what she has been trying to get since the beginning of the season. The guests of the Phillips ball couldn’t help but notice how happy Miss Morris was during her dance with Mr. Bridgerton whose eyes kept searching the crowd. This writer can only assume that his dance partners, as pleasant as they were, were not very entertaining seeing that he left the ballroom quite early, and was seen returning home in the early hours of the morning.

The rest of it was about Daphne and Duke Hastings along with Mr. Phillips’ dance with Lady Anne at the said ball, and you tried your hardest to ignore the way your stomach sunk, that bitter taste climbing up your throat but when you raised your head to look at your aunt, your expression was completely blank.

“Good for Kitty Morris.”

“Clover.”

“What?” you asked as you gave her the paper back, then put your gloves on again. “I gather they’d make a good couple.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I’m not doing anything,” you said through your teeth as you dug the small shovel into the soil and accidentally hitting the big rock underneath. “I have better things to think about than Benedict Bridgerton’s many romantic dalliances.”

“It’s alright if you just told me if it bothers you,” she insisted. “It’s just me my dear, and I know you have a soft spot for him—”

“I do not have a soft spot for him auntie,” you cut her off. “I barely know him.”

“You do not have to know everything about him to have certain…feelings for him.”

“The only feeling I have for him is annoyance,” you said, now forgoing the shovel to dig your fingers into the soil, trying to pull out the rock but it didn’t budge. “And who he dances with does not bother me at all.”

“Why didn’t you go to the ball?”

You stopped trying to pull out the rock, huffing out a breath. You had planned to go to that ball at first, in fact, you had even picked your dress and such the day before, and then…

And then that dream had happened.

Even remembering what it was like was enough to send a fire over your face. You could still taste his kiss on your lips, both of you tangled in each other’s arms in your bed, his mouth swallowing your gasp as he—

You shook your head slightly to snap yourself out of your thoughts and bit inside your cheek.

“I told you,” you managed to say. “I had a stomachache.”

She tilted her head, giving you a knowing look.

“Nervousness?”

“…Lemonade,” you ended up saying. “Why would I be nervous?”

“Because you like his presence?”

“No, I—” You were cut off when you pulled out the stone so fast that it accidentally hit the wood of the small fence around the geraniums with a loud crack and you cleared your throat, then put the stone aside. “I barely notice his presence if I’m honest.”

“Oh is that right?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Whistledown is right for once, his attention seems to be easily swayed as all other artists. I couldn’t possibly like his presence if I tried.”

“Regardless,” she said. “You’re still coming to the poetry recital?”

You clicked your tongue. “Will he be there?”

“I think so,” she said. “But it shouldn’t bother you at all. After all, you barely notice his presence, do you not?”

You paused only for a moment before you took a deep breath and smiled.

“Precisely,” you said. “Should be easy enough.”

“Y/N!” Teddy’s voice echoed through the garden and he ran up to you. “A really pretty lady came to visit you!”

You pulled your brows together and took off the gloves again. “What?”

Teddy pointed at the house and you turned your head to see Charlotte entering the garden. Your aunt was as surprised as you were but she managed to cover that much faster than you did.

“Miss Harlowe!” she said, “What a lovely surprise!”

“Lady Thorne,” Charlotte said with a quick curtsy. “Hello Y/N!”

“Hello?”

“Teddy dear, come with me, let’s go back to the house,” your aunt said as he took his hand and Teddy stole a look at Charlotte before looking up at your aunt.

“She’s so pretty auntie,” he said with a very loud whisper, making you smile and Charlotte pressed a hand over her chest.

“Aw you’re the sweetest, Teddy!”  she said and Teddy bowed in an exaggerated manner, no doubt mimicking older lords he had seen before and took your aunt’s hand before going back to the house with him.

“Your brother is adorable,” Charlotte said as she sat beside you on the ground. “Are these geraniums? I love geraniums!”

You blinked a couple of times. “Lottie, what are you doing here?”

“I came to spend time with you of course,” she said. “I was thinking perhaps after this, we could go to the bookshop? I’d like to get familiar with the poetry that will be read this evening beforehand.”

“Why would we do that?”

“Well I don’t like it when they read it and I hear it for the first time,” she said. “That’s also why I always read the ending of the novels first before starting on them, I like knowing what happens beforehand.”

“Lottie—”

“Anyway, I know it’s not the same with poetry but it’s still nice to know the themes. I heard the theme will be longing, that should be interesting! I don’t really understand why people do that though, it cannot be that difficult to talk of one’s feelings, especially if you’re in love.”

“Lottie, did we make plans before and I forgot?” you asked and she shrugged her shoulders.

“No,” she said. “I just did not have anything to do today, so I figured we could spend some time together.”

“Because…?”

“Because we’re friends!” she said as if that was all the explanation you needed, but that explanation just made you even more confused. Her smile widened at the surprised look on your face and she clapped her hands together.

“So,” she said. “Tell me more about geraniums and after we’re done here, I’ll tell you about my favorite poems.”

You thought for a second, then shook your head slightly and pulled the gardening gloves off your hands.

“Alright then,” you muttered, trying to repress a smile. “Why not?”

                                                *

Spending time with Lottie was genuinely entertaining. It was as if she was raised in a perfect world where everyone was happy and had no problems other than picking what book to read next. After your visit to the bookshop, you had gotten back home, written your sister a letter talking about Lottie and put it on the small desk to make sure it would be sent tomorrow, then started getting ready for the evening.

You were going to attend a poetry reading on longing and if this was not a sign that the universe had decided to give you a hard time personally, you didn’t know what it was.

“At least the garden is pretty,” you commented to your aunt as you both walked through it to approach the big house and your aunt looked around.

“Oh it really is,” she commented. “Not prettier than yours though.”

“You’re such a master at lying auntie, has anyone ever told you that?” you joked as you linked your arm with hers and she let out a laugh.

“I only say what I see,” she said. “For example, now I see Lord Shaw making his way to us with a hopeful look on his face.”

You repressed a groan and came to a slow stop with your aunt as Lord Shaw more or less threw himself your way.

“Lady Thorne,” he greeted your aunt. “Miss Y/N.”

“Lord Shaw.”

“You look so beautiful my lady.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “Thank you.”

“I wasn’t aware you liked poetry.”

“I do not,” you said and your aunt discreetly poked you on the ribs, making you clear your throat. “I mean…I have yet to find one that is appealing to me, so my search continues.”

“Perhaps tonight your search will be over and you will be taken by one of the poems.”

“I doubt it,” you muttered and he tilted his head.

“Pardon?”

“I hope I will,” you answered him and turned your head when you heard your name being called, your eyes falling on Daphne who was waving at you.

“Oh my goodness, I see my dear friend over there,” you said. “I hope you enjoy the evening Lord Shaw. Auntie.”

Your aunt repressed a smile and shook her head slightly but didn’t comment on it as you walked away from them to approach Daphne

“I swear to God the next man who tries to make small talk with me…” you grumbled and she let out a laugh.

“I could tell,” she said. “You looked truly tormented.”

“I am tormented.”

“Because you have suitors?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I can only be so intimidating when I’m in front of my aunt. Have you seen Charlotte?”

“She’s not here yet,” she said. “I heard some of them were intimidated by the way.”

“Not enough of them,” you said. “How about you? Where’s your favorite suitor?”

“The Duke will not attend as I’ve been told by Lady Danbury,” she said. “Which means I will be approached by less….favored suitors as soon as I’m alone.”

“You could be mean to them?”

“The same way you could be nice to them?” Daphne asked with a grin, then held her breath as if a thought struck her, her eyes stopping somewhere over your shoulder for a moment. “Y/N, I would like to make a deal with you for tonight.”

You pulled your brows. “What is it?”

“I shall be mean to the first person who talks to me, and you shall be nice to the first person who talks to you.”  

“I’m unable to be nice Daph.”

“As nice as you can be,” she insisted and you rolled your eyes, heaving a dramatic sigh.

“Fine,” you grumbled, “I guess I will be nice to the first man who starts a conversation—”

“Miss Y/N,” Benedict’s voice cut through your sentence as he entered your sight, almost out of breath. “Hello.”

You frowned, looking around. “…Did you just materialize out of thin air?”

“How are you?”

“No I swear to God you weren’t anywhere near here a moment ago—”

“This is a conversation that I’m starting,” he said as if he didn’t hear you and you threw your head back to look up at the sky, then turned to him.

“Of course it is,” you said and turned to Daphne. “I take it back, you can be mean.”

“I have no idea what you speak of,” she told you with a grin. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go talk to mama until a suitor comes along that I can be mean to. That’s the deal after all.”

“You will pay for this Daphne.”

“I’m not intimidated at all,” she called back as she walked away from you and Benedict, and you crossed your arms, turning to look up at him, willing to push the memory of the dream to the back of your mind.

“What do you want?”

He tilted his head. “This is you being nice?”

“Yes,” you deadpanned. “Can’t you tell?”

Benedict shot you that playful smile of his and despite your better judgement, your heart skipped a beat.

“I thought you’d hate poetry.”

“I don’t know why you would think that,” you said as you grabbed a lemonade from the tray a maid was holding. “I happen to be a lover of poetry.”

A surprised look crossed his face. “Really?”

“No!” you grimaced. “Obviously not. I find it incredibly vexing when people talk about their feelings, what makes you think I’d read about them willingly?”

Benedict’s smile widened. “Right, of course.”

“You love it, I gather,” you said before you took a sip. “As artists do. I heard you’ve been getting quite the inspiration lately.”

He was smart enough to understand the double innuendo, no doubt thinking back to the last time you had snapped at him at the ballroom and he bit down a smile.

“I don’t know where you’ve heard it from Miss Y/N,” he said. “And I know better than to assume anything about you or how you feel—”

“That’s a welcomed surprise.”

“But a simple listener would think you’re jealous.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, your stomach doing a flip.

“Jealous?” you repeated with a scoff. “Of you being—being inspired?”

He shot you a mischievous smirk. “Seems that way, would you not say?”

“Not at all.”

“No?”

“No because I doubt the outcome would be worth much if inspiration is that easy to be at anyone’s service,” you pointed out, your voice like a silk and then let an innocent smile pull at your lips. “And that enthusiastic to sate their desire for…art.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was impressed as he raised his brows, letting out a breath of disbelief.

“Well played.”

“Why thank you,” you said as you sipped your lemonade again but both of you turned your heads as a giggle reached you. Kitty Morris stole a look at you before turning to talk to her friends and you repressed a laugh.

“That’s your cue,” you said and he tilted his head.

“What?”

“Your dance partner is giggling in your direction, what more of a sign do you need?”

“My dance partner?” he asked, then heaved a sigh as the thought hit him. “Lady Whistledown.”

“Mm hm. Off you go.”

“I’m not going,” he insisted. “If only you were there at the ball, you—”

“Mr. Bridgerton,” Kitty’s voice reached you two as she approached you and you arched a brow. “And Miss Y/N. Good evening.”

“Miss Morris,” Benedict said and a smile lit up her face.

“I was just telling my friend how excited I am for tonight’s poems,” she said. “I’m such an admirer of every aspect of art you see.”

“With no inspiration, apparently,” you muttered under your breath and Benedict managed to stop the small chuckle threatening to leave his lips by clearing his throat.

“That’s lovely to hear Miss Morris.”

“And what is your favorite poem that will be read tonight?”

You could feel the fire of the anger bubbling at the pit of your stomach as Kitty shot him a glance from under her lashes and you clicked your tongue.

“I’d better leave the poetry admirers such as you to your conversation,” you said and Benedict shook his head fervently.

“No we’re just—”

“No it’s alright,” you said. “Enjoy your evening Mr. Bridgerton. Miss Morris.”

She shot you a forced smile before turning to Benedict who looked genuinely disappointed that you were leaving but you refused to let it make you linger there any longer. You turned around and made your way to your aunt, still trying to repress that unfamiliar anger threatening to take over you.

                                                   *

But for some reason, trying to repress that did not work.

You had zero idea what the poems were really about or what their overall themes were; apparently tonight had to test your patience since Kitty had sat right behind you with her sisters. They hadn’t stopped whispering for the last hour and it was only when the person at the front row asked a question about a line that their whispering became clear enough for you to hear.

“Mark my words, he will ask me for a dance at the next ball as well.”

“Perhaps you are his muse!”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if I was. He is very fond of talking with me as you can see.”

“Oh Kitty!”

“Perhaps he will propose to you by the end of the season!”

You could taste the bitterness climbing up your throat and you gritted your teeth, pressing a hand over your bodice before reaching out to touch your aunt’s hand.

“Y/N?”

“I will go to the washroom and be back,” you whispered and walked out of the room, but instead of going down the hallway, you descended the stairs and stepped out of the house. The cool fresh air was a great remedy to the bitter fire in your chest so you took a deep breath, then stood on your tiptoes to get a better look at the garden. The flowers were as expected from any rich house, rows and rows of roses and tulips and looked around to see whether there was anything different, but it was a bit hard in the moonlight. You approached the flower beds, inspecting the roses closer but you turned around when someone cleared their throat, your heart climbing up to your throat as soon as you saw Benedict.

“What are you doing here?”

Benedict put his hands into his pockets and shrugged his shoulders. “This is the one night you will be nice to me, I’m not wasting it sitting in a room where I can’t even talk to you.”

You repressed a smile and crossed your arms.

“And you decided to risk my reputation?”

“No one will be leaving that room for a while, they just started on Byron.”

“Of course they did,” you muttered and turned to the flowers. “Whose house is this again?”

“Lord and Lady Lowell.”

“Who told them to spare the whole garden to tulips and roses and nothing more?”

“It’s not just tulips and roses.”

You motioned around. “Do you see anything else?”

Benedict tilted his head, giving you a mischievous grin. “I’m guessing that means you haven’t seen the greenhouse yet?”

Your head shot up. “There’s a greenhouse?”

“Mm hm,” he said. “There’s mostly fruit and vegetables and some herbs though. Do you want to see it?”

“It’s probably locked.”

“They don’t keep it locked.”

You raised your brows. “And you know that how?”

He looked a bit taken aback and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh…I—I heard it from…someone.”

You scoffed. “Oh I’m sure,” you said. “You remember that I carry a knife, right?”

“Trust me, that knowledge refuses to leave my mind.”

“Even if I go there with you, the moment you think you can try something I would not hesitate to cut you.”

He held up his hands. “I swear on my honor,” he said. “I just…haven’t seen you for a while, that’s all. I was hoping we could talk, I do not expect or ask for anything more.”

“What makes you think I want to talk to you?”

“You haven’t walked away from me yet.”

You pulled your brows together and rolled your eyes.

“Fine,” you said with a dramatic sigh. “Lead the way.”

The greenhouse was on the other side of the garden, away from anyone else’s gaze. Benedict opened the door and stepped aside so that you could slip into the greenhouse before him and your eyes searched the place, and you tilted your head.

It looked more like a food garden than a greenhouse.

This was what you didn’t understand about the people owning greenhouses. They didn’t appreciate it, if one day in the future you had a greenhouse, you were going to fill it with all kinds of rare plants and flowers rather than growing only vegetables and fruits.

“You were not jesting,” you muttered as you walked in the greenhouse slowly and he leaned back to the glass wall.

“No flowers though.”

“No,” you said as you approached to look at the tiny strawberries, then ripped one out to toss it at Benedict. He caught it mid-air and shot you an exaggerated look of shock.

“Scandal, Miss Y/N,” he said. “Where are your manners?”

You shrugged your shoulders and popped a strawberry into your mouth.

“Do you honestly think Lady Lowell steps a foot here?” you asked. “Most probably her gardener does, and something tells me he would not mind. Besides, I thought you wanted me to be nice to you.”

“It does make a lovely change now that you mention it,” he commented as he sat back on one of the narrow wooden counters, keeping his gaze on you while you made your way around the greenhouse. “Why did you leave me with Kitty Morris of all people?”

You looked at him over your shoulder before taking a look at the hibiscus flower in front of you.

For tea, probably.

“I merely assumed you two had much to talk about.”

“Y/N.”

“She likes poetry too,” you said, trying to repress the smile threatening to pull at your lips as you approached the rosemary plant in the pot. “And art.”

“Can you be nice to a person for only half a minute? I will not judge, I just wish to know.”

“I am being nice to you, I haven’t even insulted you yet,” you played along before you turned to glare at him. “That being said, if you ever told about this to anyone—”

He grinned. “No worries. The rest of the ton shall remain intimidated by you. It does not leave here.”

“Good,” you commented and ran your palm over the rosemary, then went to the next potted plant to take a closer look at it.

Mint. It was mint.

“Well this brings back memories,” you muttered as you ripped a leaf to chew on it and Benedict hummed.

“How come?”

“Me and my sister used to play this game…” you trailed off before you stopped yourself. “Never mind, it’s foolish.”

“No I want to know,” he said. “What game?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “There wasn’t much of entertainment back in the countryside so us and some of her friends, we would go to a garden, and we would ask each other questions and point at a plant or whatever was there. You had to either answer the question truthfully or eat whatever the others pointed at.”

Benedict clapped his hands together and pushed himself off the wall, rolling his shoulders back as if he was getting ready for some sort of a sport.

“Let’s do it then.”

You blinked a couple of times. “What?”

“Come on. Unless of course you’d rather go back to that room to hear more about Byron’s feelings when he wrote She Walks in Beauty.”

You arched a brow. “Is that bitterness I hear?”

“I do not like his lines,” he said curtly. “Let’s play.”

“You cannot beat me at that game.”

“That’s not what I’m after,” he said. “Will you ask first or shall I?”

You heaved a deep sigh and walked among the counters, then ripped a tiny tomato and tossed it his way. He caught it and shrugged his shoulders.

“If I didn’t know you, I’d think you’re going easy on me.”

“It’s just the start,” you said. “Will you propose to Kitty Morris by the end of the season?”

His eyes widened and he shook his head fervently.

“What?” he asked. “No! Who told you that?”

“She hopes for it,” you said with a small grin and he scoffed.

“No thank you. I would never,” he tossed you back the tomato. “My turn. Why did you not come to the last ball?”

You wiped the tomato with the skirts of your dress and popped it into your mouth, shooting him a smile.

“Fair enough,” he commented and you looked around, then grabbed the small green pepper off the plant and threw it for him to catch.

“What did you do after you left the ballroom until the morning?”

He held up the pepper as if toasting you and popped it into his mouth, then started coughing.

“Jesus Christ…” he said as he swallowed it and hit his chest with his fist, grimacing. “My compliments to Lady Lowell’s gardener, this is extremely hot.”

“That one is going to be even worse,” you nodded at the red pepper and he heaved a sigh.

“Of course it will,” he muttered and ripped an asparagus before tossing it your way. “Are you still angry at me because I was late to the ball that one time?”

You bit off the asparagus and chewed on it, making him frown.

“Jesus, is there anything you don’t eat?”

“Told you that you couldn’t beat me at this,” you said. “Josie once made me eat a whole radish with the soil and everything on it on a dare, this is nothing.”

“Josie?”

“My sister,” you said. “Josephine. My turn.”

You reached out for the tiny red pepper this time, making him let out a groan that somehow made a spark of lightning shoot through you but you bit inside your cheek and tossed it at him.

“Here.”

“Please ask me something I can actually answer.”

You raised your brows. “Is there really nothing between you and Lottie or are you two just keeping it a secret?”

“There’s nothing going on between me and her,” he said, his voice completely clear as he shook his head in a determined manner. “We have never seen each other that way, nor will we ever. Charlie is one of the best people I’ve ever known in my life and whoever she marries will be the luckiest man in the world.”

“But not you?”

“Not me,” he said. “She’d tell you the same if you asked her. It’s just… we’re friends.”

You hummed and shrugged your shoulders.

“Very well,” you said. “Your turn.”

He looked around, then walked to rip a stem of grapes, causing you to scrunch up your face.

“Pick something else.”

His jaw dropped before he shot you a smug smile and tossed the stem your way.

“Not a chance, I pick this one.”

“Come on,” you whined as you turned the grapes in your hand. “I hate grapes, and these aren’t even ripe!”

“You know everything you say convinces me not to pick anything else, right?”

“I hate you so much.”

“Mm hm.”

“Fine,” you murmured, still glaring at the grapes in your hand before raising your glances to meet his eyes. “Go on. Ask me something.”

“What of your many suitors?”

“They’re annoying,” you said with a grimace, “What of them?”

“There’s no one among them that you…?”

“What?”

“That you like?” he asked. “Lord Shaw seems quite persistent.”

“Oh I would never marry Lord Shaw,” you brushed him off. “He’s too young.”

“He’s in his early thirties,” he reminded you. “He’s older than you.”

“Not enough,” you pointed out. “I have a clear idea of what I require in matrimony. My husband will be much older, in his fifties or sixties, and a widow if possible.”

He scoffed a laugh. “You’re supposed to answer truthfully.”

“I am answering truthfully,” you said and Benedict’s eyes flickered across your face as if trying to find a tell that you were dishonest.

“…Why?”

“Many reasons,” you said. “I don’t want to wait for years and years for him to die to gain my freedom, I’d like it to be fast. I do not even have to like him, I just need him to die fast.”

His jaw was slightly slack as he gawked at you. “You’re jesting.”

“No I’m not.”

“You’re willing to marry someone you don’t even like to…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “Do you even know what happens when you get married?”

“Do you?” you asked back. “Just because we’re talking about different aspects of marriage does not invalidate either one of them.”

“So you’re willing to go through that with someone who you don’t even like just because he might die faster?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this Benedict, but the majority of wives in the ton go through that with their husbands whom they don’t like,” you pointed out bluntly, the back of your eyes stinging before you blinked back the tears, surprised at yourself but thankfully managing to remain completely calm. “And it happens again and again, and I refuse to be subjected to that any longer than I must.”

His jaw clenched upon hearing the unpleasant truth and he swallowed thickly.

“Y/N it doesn’t have to be like that—”

“I can assure you it is not going to be so sad for me,” you cut him off. “When my future husband dies, I’ll have…” you trailed off. “I’ll have…”

“Solitude.”

“Solitude is not the threat you think it is for me,” you stated. “The way I see it, marriage is debtor’s prison. I will spend some time waiting for it to be over until I’m free, that’s all. Until I’ve paid the price I’m expected to pay.”

“And love?”

You let out a dry laugh. “Don’t you find it ironic that only artists have the luxury of looking for love, or believing in it for that matter?”

“Don’t give me that,” he said as if he was too impatient to argue with you on that. “What of your heart?”

“I told you,” you forced yourself to say as you shot him a bitter smile. “I don’t have one.”

“What of your desires?” he asked and with the worst timing possible, your dream from the night before flashed before your eyes, with him kissing you, and touching you, and—

“I don’t have those either,” you managed to lie through your teeth as you played with the grapes in your hand, wiping at the dust over them and he took a step towards you.

“That cannot be your plan for your future,” he insisted, breathing fast as if you were going to run away at any moment. “What if he doesn’t die fast? A lot of old people live long lives.”

“It’s the safest bet,” you pointed out. “It would still prove to be useful.”

“How?”

“Old husbands move slower,” you said as you rubbed at your wrist and shrugged your shoulders again. “I will have to be faster than him for when he tries to hit me.”

A stunned silence fell upon the greenhouse and you lifted your glances from your wrist to find him completely frozen in shock in his place.

“What?” you asked and he frowned as if the mere idea was so unthinkable that it confused him.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

You tossed a grape in the air and caught it again. “I will have to be faster than him for when he tries to—”

“No one will hit you.”

“Precisely,” you said. “I’m making sure of it. We’re talking about the same thing here, honestly.”

“No, even if…” he trailed off and for the first time since you had met, a darkness crossed his eyes, something dangerous, something that was more than enough to raise goosebumps on your arms even if you somehow knew that it was not directed at you. “If somebody so much as touches a hair on your head, I—”

“Wouldn’t be able to do a thing,” you finished his sentence for him. “No one would, you know how it goes. Once I’m married it’s over, there’s no one that can stop anything. Not my family, not the law, not the ton. So I’m going to protect myself because if I don’t do it, no one else will.”

He looked at a loss for words as he stared at you and you threw the grape stem aside as if your heart didn’t feel like it weighed a ton, then cleared your throat.

“I won by the way,” you told him, wiping your hands on your skirts. “I’m going back to the house before my aunt sends Queen’s guards after me.”

“Y/N—”

“Oh cheer up, will you?” you forced your voice to come out completely nonchalant as you opened the glass door. “For what it’s worth, I’m sure you will find love. Shouldn’t be that hard if you believe in that nonsense.”

You walked out of the greenhouse without so much as a glance back, leaving him there frozen. You took a deep breath, gritting your teeth and rubbed at your arms, the sudden chill that had nothing to do with the weather rushing through you.

“Pull yourself together,” you muttered to yourself and made your way back to the house, digging your fingernails into your palms in an attempt to focus on anything but the tears burning your eyes.

Chapter 7 

[alessiathepirate]

The Quarry

TAKING RISKS BEHIND CLOSED DOORS: Chris Hackett x fem!reader

Summary: This is quite risky, she thinks but the thought disappears as soon as his lips touch her skin...

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I may have made while I wrote this short story.

Warnings: swearing, suggestive themes

•••

This is quite risky, the thought appears at the back of her mind, but it disappears just as quickly when Chris Hackett's lips touch her neck.

His kisses are slow, lingering; the kind that makes her forget about everything other than him. Her right hand runs along his back, caressing it even if his shirt is in the way - the gentle touch becomes rough a few times, when his kisses roughen up, making her whole being burn.

"Chris-" she tries to get his attention unsuccessfully, because the man is paying more attention to her skin and how his touch makes her act.

She can hear the music downstairs, she can hear the kids singing - her friends are probably there too, wondering where she went. They are doing their job, the job she also should be doing. Instead she's feeling really close to Heaven with her back against a door and Chris' body so close to hers.

"Chris-" she tries again and this time she's successful.

Her lover looks her in the eyes as his kisses come to a stop, but even then his hands are still moving. One is beside her head, keeping the both of them steady; while the other is holding her waist, his thumb gently drawing shapes into the material of her shirt.

"What is it darling?"

The way he says 'darling' sets her insides on fire and she almost forgets what she wanted to say in the first place.

"They'll figure it out." she starts explaining. "We both disappeared on them."

"Let them." he says as he presses a kiss to her cheek. "At least they'll have something to gossip about."

It would be so easy to forget about the dinner downstairs and let Chris love her and prove his love to her. She could easily let them gossip, let herself be the reason for those gossips as well.

She could let all of that happen. They aren't doing anything wrong after all, they're both adults who can date if they want to. She could let Emma call her a whore playfully, she could let Dylan send her teasing looks...

She could let go just this once...

She's about to let her feelings rule her body, when she hears a pretty scary sound from behind the door. Someone stepped inside Chris' office, the room what's right behind her. For a second she thinks she forgot how to breath.

"Mr. H?" a voice calls out and she bites her lower lip to keep her sounds of pleasure back after Chris playfully bit her skin as his hand kept on drawing those shapes.

She knows that voice. Ryan is the one in the other room, he is the one who could hear everything if they aren't quiet, he is the one who could open that door and make them fall in any second.

She puts her hand on Chris' shoulder, pushing him back. Their eyes meet and Chris smiles, his gestures hiding a special kind of mischief, the kind only she could see and no one else.

"He isn't here?" another voice speaks up and she freezes completely - that's Dylan. God, it's a risky situation!

"No." Ryan answers. "But I really need to talk to him."

"About the swimming lessons?"

"Yeah, about those too."

Her gaze must be full of fear. Chris must be able to read that correctly, but he doesn't seem to care. Instead he leans in and kisses her, their lips meeting in a slow and loving kiss - later forming into something more passionate.

Her mind is blank, empty, unable to focus on anything else but him, not being able to care about her own fear of becoming the whore of her friendgroup. She can't think that through, because Chris' kisses are too good.

"Did you check in here?"

The kisses linger and soon her neck is bitten and sucked again, and she has to press her lips tightly together to stay quiet.

Only then does it occur to her that Dylan means the door - the door behind which she is being kissed and loved. She tries to make Chris listen to her even if she can't speak up. She tries to tell him silently that if they don't stop they are screwed. She tries all of that with the last pieces of care she has in herself - and then, after a kiss right under her ear and the feeling of his fingertips touching and grabbing her naked skin under her shirt, she whimpers. She gives up and prays, not finding anymore power to refuse all the affection.

She hears a very quiet click. She feels Chris' other arm move and realizes with a grin that he just locked the door.

"Dude, just let it go. We'll see him at the firepit later anyway."

The doorknob still jiggles and the wood still shakes. Dylan still tries to open it, unsuccessfully.

"I always wanted to know what's behind that door."

It'd be a great surprise, she thinks.

As Dylan's steps fade away a bit, the kisses stop and she hears an almost unnoticeable whisper: 'Be quiet now...'.

She hears the smile in his voice even if she can't see it. She can imagine the almost smirk like curl of his lips.

Quiet.

Stay quiet.

She leans back, tilting her head to the side to give Chris more access to her neck.

Damn what the others think or know. Damn Emma's teasing words and Dylan's playful looks.

She can feel good about herself for a day too.

[erin-writes-ghost-fluff]

Cheering up Papa

A/N: Wrote this on my old blog. Thought I’d share it here! Minors/Under the age of 18, do not interact. My fluff is not for you. Note, I wrote this way before RHRN.

Fandom: Ghost

Characters: Cirrus, Copia, Cumulus

Warnings: Tickling. Fluff. Mentions of death at first. A little angsty at the beginning.

~ ~ ~

Cirrus found him first. Nobody could find him to begin with, so of course that worried Sister but it all worked out. He had gone to the garden to water the flowers. Nobody had been caring for them, since Primo’s death and Copia wanted to change that. Next tour, he was putting a sibling of sin in charge of upkeeping the garden. It was one of the few reminders he had left of his brothers.

He sat under the gazebo, on the patio sofa, taking a break. It was a pleasant day, Copia thought. It was warm but not uncomfortably so. There was a gentle breeze occasionally making the leaves on the trees sway. Out here was a comfort. It made him feel close to Primo and made him feel he was doing something right, by trying to take care of those flowers and plants.

“Papa?” A voice was approaching him. Cirrus.

“There you are! Everyone wondered where you got off to!”

Papa. Copia repeated in his mind. He’d never be used to that title. He had been cardinal for so long. He hardly expected to be the next in line for Papa and truth be told, he wasn't sure if he wanted this. Looking back, Nihil’s comment about him not being a part of the bloodline made sense.

Unlike his older brothers, he hadn't been mentored. Primo had taught Secondo, and Secondo taught Terzo. Nobody was here to teach him. And it had left him feeling empty and hollow.

Noticing his silence and the blank look on his face, the ghoulette frowned, coming to sit next to him. Something was troubling him, and she was going to get to the bottom of it.

“Everything ok?” She knew it wasn't but she wanted confirmation.

“Eh… I just have a lot on my mind. I’ll be fine. I am papa now. I do the worrying, not you ghouls and ghoulettes.”

Cirrus wasn't budging. “Copia please. You know how I am with picking up emotions. You aren't ok right now. Talk to me.”

She pulled the former cardinal against her, who heaved a sigh in response. Maybe getting it all out to a sympathetic ear would help. Someone who was grieving with him.

“I…. It just happened so quick, you know? The whole ‘becoming papa’ thing. No warnings, no nothing, one minute I’m performing, the next minute, I’m surrounded and declared papa.”

Cirrus nodded. He was right. There had been no time to process such a big, sudden change. Hell, Copia wasn't even warned. It had taken the ghouls by surprise as well. None of them had expected it.

“What else, papa? There's more. I know.”

Copia pressed his temple against hers, showing his affection and gratitude for her listening.

“I just feel that I am destined to fail. I have no-one to teach me how to be Papa.”

At this moment, Cumulus was walking out to the garden too. Seeing her bandmates- and technically newly appointed leader- she smiled, deciding to see what was going on.

“Hey ‘Lu.” Cirrus greeted, “papa’s having a venting moment.”

Cumulus’ tail and wings sagged. “Oh papa… Do you need space? Or would it be alright if I listened too?”

Copia shrugged. “If you want to stay, I don't have a problem.”

Cumulus took her seat on his opposite side, ready to be of as much comfort as she could.

Copia resumed, running a hand through his hair.

“I just feel alone, ever since my brothers died. I know I have my ghouls and I am not completely alone but…. Losing them was hard. I’ve had no time to mourn. It's just been work since we returned from tour. I know if Primo were here, he’d be teaching me. I have such big shoes to fill, you know? Except for Terzo's, his shoes were small, because his feet were tiny, heheh…”

Cirrus purred, nuzzling her nose against his temple. Cumulus had reached over, massaging his shoulder blades. He felt exceptionally tense.

“I think they’d be proud of you.” Cumulus hummed thoughtfully. “Especially Primo. He always wanted to see his younger brothers succeed.”

Would he? Copia wondered

“Do you really think so? It was hard to tell who or what gained his approval and who just got on his nerves.”

“Yes,” Cirrus agreed, “I think they’d be happy that their fratellino made it. I think Secondo would be teaching you to read the ancient grimoires, Terzo would be teaching you the Hellish or ghoulish tongue, and Primo would be more than happy to show you how to summon ghouls.”

Maybe they were right. But still…

“I just feel unsure now.”

Cirrus was now massaging and gently scratching Copia’s scalp, being mindful of her claws. He shivered before melting against her, some tension draining away.

“I think you're gonna do great. Yeah, you’re gonna be different than Terzo but that's ok. No Papa is alike. You have a lot to learn but we won't be impatient or unkind. We are you ghouls now, Copia. We will support you, when nobody else will.”

A lump formed in his throat, as he urged himself not to cry, his eyes suddenly glossy with unshed tears. His brothers may not be here to support him now or cheer him on- if they would have done such a thing- but hearing that his ghouls would be here to lift him up, made him feel relieved.

“We mourn with you, papa.” Cumulus chimed in again. “Your pain is ours.”

“Uh, i-it's not necessarily that- well, I mean it is, I just, I don't feel as bad now…”

The two ghoulettes sandwiched him in a tight hug, purring softly. Copia gave a shuddering exhale, bowing his head, bittersweet tears streaming down his cheeks.

“We’ve got you, Copia.” Cirrus murmured. “We’re here for you.”

This had been what he had needed for months. Just for someone to say they heard him and they would be there for him. All Sister wanted to do was go on and on, about his triumph as papa. Always saying how he was an improvement over Terzo. He never saw how. Terzo had won a GRAMMY after all, he had thought to himself.

Sister missed the point. And even if she hadn't, she still would be no true source of comfort. Too much false positivity. He needed to be allowed to feel these negative emotions. Not just brush them aside, because Sister said he should be happy.

Being able to vent helped immensely. Already, he felt a weight off of his shoulders and heart. His confidence wasn't there yet but it would be. He allowed himself to cry in silence, both ghoulettes rubbing his back and shoulder. After a minute or two, his tears began to subside.

“How do you feel?” Cumulus asked, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a handkerchief.

She wiped away his remaining tears, Copia allowing her to do so, almost leaning into her touch.

“Is there anything else we can do to help you feel better, papa?” Cirrus tilted her head to the side.

Come to think of it, they already had.

“I feel a little better now, grazie. Just by listening to me and letting me get it out. I appreciate it.”

They hugged him once more, glad to know he was doing a bit better. Still, Cirrus didn't like it when Copia was sad. A thought came to her, suddenly.

“I think I have an idea…”

Copia blinked. “What?”

She and Cumulus exchanged mischievous grins. They used to do this to Terzo but it was a much easier time with him, because of his height.

With no other warning, the ghoulettes began gently squeezing and pinching his sides, eliciting a shocked squeak, followed by some loud giggles.

“H-hey!” Copia cried, unable to stop giggling, “stop it!”

“Sorry, papa.” Cumulus chuckled, “we’re just trying to get you to smile.

“Ihihihi ahaham smiling!” He replied, kicking his legs out.

The ghoulettes had just started and he found it nearly unbearable. Especially when Cirrus snuck her hand up the hem of his shirt to get his belly. Every touch, every playful, gentle wisp of claws only caused him to laugh harder and louder. Rather than try to get away or fight them off, he held his hands over his mouth to muffle his giggles.

Cirrus wasn't having this, however. And she knew just how to bring his arms down.

“Ah-ah!” She playfully scolded, using her tail to get underneath one of Copia's arms.

Cumulus followed suit.

As they wanted, Copia's arms clamped down instinctively, his giggles turning frantic and squeaky, as Cirrus had not ceased torment on his belly.

“Cirrus!!” He squealed, as her other hand gently pried his own away from his mouth.

She laughed in response, “Hmm? What is it Papa?”

He shook his head, further squeaky giggles bubbling out of him, like a spring.

“Come oooon, use your words!” She teased, giving him a fanged smile.

Both sets of claws now gently digging into his ribs with the utmost care. Cumulus was teasing his neck and ears.

His blush darkened as he tried to keep himself still for them. They were only trying to help and lift his spirits again. For that, Copia was grateful. Suppose it wouldn't hurt to allow his ghoulettes to have a little fun. And while he’d never admit it aloud… he was having fun too. It felt nice to laugh like this.

He let out another squeal when Cumulus leaned forward, burying her face into his neck to playfully nibble the ticklish skin. His shoulders shrugged instinctively.

“No! Don't do that!” Copia squeaked, but Cumulus only continued.

“You know…. I don't think you mean that,” Cirrus smirked, lightly scratching underneath his arms, causing him to cackle.

Oh no… How did she know?! Though he wasn't really trying hard to get away….

“Y-you have no proof!” He challenged.

Cumulus snickered, using one claw to trace the shell of his ear, bringing out a high pitched cackle.

“I dunno, giggle rat…You’re barely trying to escape!”

His blush now spread up to his ears. “Don’t call me that!!”

“But it's true!” Cirrus giggled, “you squeak and squeal like a rat when you get tickled, sooooo that makes you a ticklish giggle rat.

Copia shook his head, denying such accusations but couldn't stop laughing to save his life. He let out a shocked shriek, when all twenty fingers skittered against his belly. He jolted as if he’d been shocked by electricity, laughter flowing unrestrained and freely from the Anti-Pope.

“THIS IS MEAN!!” He howled, kicking his legs out like an overgrown child once more.

Both ghoulettes tails wagged and swayed happily, listening to his laughter, pleased with themselves. They found themselves laughing with him as usual. His laughter was just so adorable and contagious, in Cirrus’ correct opinion.

He was beginning to tire, however and they didn't want to push him too far. It would seem a grand finale was in order. And Cirrus knew just how to go about it.

Cumulus seemed to be thinking the same thing, as she raised the hem of Copia's shirt, baring his belly just a little. He knew what was coming and began to go into a giggly, anticipatory panic. He’d been tickled by Cirrus enough times to know…

“Wait! Wait! Per favore! I’m gonna die!”

The other two giggled. Oh yes, he was definitely Terzo's little brother, alright! Copia was just as dramatic as him!

“Oh papa…” Cumulus snickered, shaking her head, “I think you’ll live!”

“No I won’t!”

With no further warning, they leaned down, claiming both sides of his belly, before blowing a loud raspberry before switching to nibbling, all while snarling playfully.

Copia let loose another shriek before howling with unbridled mirth, as they made a ‘feast’ out of him. He sputtered and squeaked, trying to talk but laughter took over within seconds. He slammed his hands on his thighs, unable to even think straight at this point. Despite the hysteria, his laughter was hearty.

Just when he thought he was going to be driven insane, his ghoulettes had a shred of mercy, stopping their playful attack, pulling his shirt back down, smoothing out his hair and clothes.

He heaved a relieved- yet giggly- sigh, going limp and slouching where he sat.

Cirrus purred, pressing her nose against his cheek with a nuzzle. “Awwww. See? Not that bad!”

Copia crossed his arms, giving a joking, angry pout.

“Yes it was!” He grouched playfully, “you two are fucking bullies!”

Cumulus laughed, giving his body a gentle squeeze, while Cirrus rubbed his back to help him calm down.

“Because we love you!”

Ok…. Copia couldn't argue with that logic. He gave them a bashful smile, pressing his temple against Cumulus’, followed by Cirrus.

“I love you too.” He chuckled softly. “....But it still wasn't nice!”

Cirrus ruffled his hair. “It got you to feel better though, I bet.”

Well, she wasn't wrong!

“Not answering that!”

Cumulus snickered. “Hey, wanna come and help me do some baking? I’m in a mood for something sweet. Probably something chocolate!”

Copia's mood lifted further. If there was one thing he loved just as much as rigatoni, it was chocolate!

“Oh yes, I’d love to! Now that you’ve said it, I wouldn't mind having some sweets too!”

The group of three stood up, stretching their limbs before walking back inside The Ministry, heading straight to the kitchen.

Being Papa wouldn't be easy. It would be stressful some days and a pain in the ass. But Copia felt just a little more confident now. His brothers may not be here, but he still had a support system.

Papa. Yes. Suppose he could get used to being called that now.

[bellaxgiornata]

Do you have any tips for people who really enjoy writing fanfiction but struggle to actually get themselves to write it? Like I love writing specific scenarios in my head (mainly because that’s what I really want to read but no one else has written that yet) but I struggle to actually just get the motivation to do it, so my ideas just stay in my brain as a “I want to write this” and then the interest dies off and it never gets written.

I completely understand this feeling so much. Before I started writing in the Daredevil fandom I often just daydreamed in-depth scenarios in my head. I usually wanted to write them into stories but then I just...never did it. Even though I have been writing different fanfics in different fandoms for a really long time, I more often than not just created up scenarios that lived in my head and then that was it because I never wrote them down. So nothing ever came of them and I was never able to share them with anyone. I could have written so many more things if I'd just sat down and tried.

(As always, I'm long winded so more below the cut 😅)

In all honesty when this happens, I think the best thing to do is just that. Just sit down in front of a blank document and free write whatever comes to you. Take the pressure off of yourself first and foremost, though--you don't have to share whatever comes out with anyone. Don't tell yourself that it has to be good, either. Have literally zero expectations for whatever ends up on the page. More often than not, that really helps the words start to flow. When you sit there and nitpick how you're starting a sentence or a scene or a word choice, that's when you start second guessing everything and that can often lead to thoughts like "I can't do this" or "no one will read this" or the classic "I suck at this" (which I still hear in my head some days). Ignore all that bullshit and just focus on whatever it is that's in your head--a conversation between some characters, maybe an entire scene you've had playing out in your mind, a fight scene, or whatever it is that you're currently excited about. Just sit down and try to get it out with no expectations. Because you can absolutely always come back to it and edit it up how you want after the fact and make it into a story or a one shot or whatever if you want, but the hardest part is just getting something out on a page.

But truthfully, the only way to write something is to make yourself sit down and do it. I don't know of any other tips to give besides that. Sure, you can make a playlist or a mood board for the vibe of a story or a character. You can make outlines of what you're seeing in your head that'll give you bullet points of what you picture happening. But really you just have to get excited enough about whatever it is that's on your mind and write it. And I think that's part of the beauty of writing fanfic when you do share it and people interact with it. The commentary and interaction from readers is what helps keep the excitement for a story alive for the writer, which then gives us that necessary motivation to keep coming back to work on a story. Because any writer will tell you that sitting down and getting the words out is hard. Some days it sucks and you have to slog through it to keep going, but that's just a part of the process. Over time it becomes a habit, though.

Hopefully any of that somewhat helped, but unfortunately there isn't some magic answer to make it easier to get started. Having other writers to talk to about your ideas really helps, too. Or just someone to talk with/at about whatever is on your mind. Breaking an entire fic idea into chunks chapter by chapter helps if you're making a big story, but just picking a starting point and writing it is your best bet. I actually first wrote the entirety of Marci and Fog's wedding for FFTD and then worked my way backwards afterwards to start that huge ass series. It all started with those two installments and the idea/scene in my head that I didn't get to until "The Breaking Point" far later. So you can absolutely just start with an idea and expand on it. But unfortunately, you kind of just have to force yourself to start somewhere 😅

[lyn-js]

One Step at a Time | Chapter 2. Recipe for disaster

Calvin Evans x OC Reader

Summary: Everything in Ava Mason's life was what you call normal. She has a steady job as a lab tech at Hastings, has a beautiful bungalow in Sugar Hill, and sometimes babysits her friend Harriet's kids. But that all changes when social services show up at her doorstep with, her 2-year-old niece Delilah. Ever since then, it has been keeping you from your job, going to work late, and leaving when everyone else has gone home. But a certain chemist wants to know why a lab tech is staying late.

Warning: Angst, swearing, mentions of drug & alcohol abuse, dysfunctional family, mentions of adoptions & being put into foster care, and a whole lotta fluff. (Bold Letters mean flashbacks)

(This story is kind of based on what actually happened in Lessons in Chemistry. But no dying. We need to keep one of Lewis's characters alive.)

2.15 years ago

You jolt up out of bed when I hear someone aggressively banging on my door. I try my bed to wake myself up the best I can and get the deep sleep out of my eyes.

I shuffle my feet out onto the cold floors of my apartment to see what all of the loud commotions was. As I open the door I can already see the eye I have looked at so many times.

“H-Hi, sis,” Izzy says to me with a shaky voice, almost sounding like she was coming down from a cold of some sort. The last time I saw her was at my high school graduation, high as a kite not knowing where she was. But over the years we would write to each other, me telling her I was finally going to college, and pursuing a PhD in chemistry. But with her, she only wrote when she was in a new state, with a new boyfriend, saying she was finally going to get clean, and do right. That promise was only broken when my parents would call and say she was in jail for possession of some type of substance.

But this was different, you don’t know how, and you don’t know why but you felt uneasy about why your sister was here. You're not thinking right now and your mind is on auto-pilot, so you invite her in, and let her sit down while you grab her a cup of tea.

Once the teacup is set on the coffee table, find out why your estranged sister is really here. 

I try to ask her what brings her into town, but before I can even get a word out she starts to uncontrollably sob. I just wrap her up in an embracing hug and try to get her to calm down a little bit.

Once the tears settle a little bit, she sits up and just looks at me with a blank expression.

“I’m Pregnant.” was the only thing that came out of her mouth. I just looked at her with the same expression she had earlier. Such a new surprise to hear. Suddenly Izzy starts to shed more tears. “Hey, calm down, just tell me what happened, Okay?”

Then she starts to talk about how she started dating this guy named Tom that she met in AA, saying he was really sweet, and kind to her in the beginning. Until she found out he was using again, she could control herself so she started back up again. Then she says she found out a couple of weeks ago, then she told Tom, but that ended up with her getting kicked out of his apartment and sitting here on my couch.

“Were you using drugs when you found out?” you ask her, not only worried about her, but the well-being of the baby. She doesn’t have to look at me she moves towards the end of the couch. I just let out a frustrated sigh. Trying to come up with a solution to this problem.

“I’ll… I’ll let you stay here for a little while. But only if you get clean. I'll help out with the baby, unless you thought about other options…” You don’t want to say it out loud, not wanting to see that happen to your sister. Trying not to let her go through that pain all by herself. But she looks up and nods quickly. 

“But Izzy, This is a drug-free zone. I’m not going to let it affect you, or the baby. Got it?” Then she starts to cry again and shuffles into my arms, staying there until she’s calm.

I see her look up at me, “Thank you, Peach. I promise this is going to be it. I’m going to stop this time. I’m gonna be a good mom and get my own place. I’m gonna have a better life now.”I remember she would always call me by my nickname when she felt sorry, I haven’t heard that name in a long time, it always brings up bad memories for us. 

But I try and let it go. So, I just nod and give her a half smile, letting her be wrapped in a warm embrace again.

As I see her lying in my bed, I believe this is probably the best night's sleep she has had in the last couple of days. I watch her chest rise and fall at a steady pace. Also watches as she clutches her hand to her stomach already in mama bear mode, wanting to protect her family from anything.

I shut the door to my room a little bit, not wanting to disturb her. Just so she can’t see me. I let a few tears escape my eyes. I was scared for my sister. Scared for the baby. I don’t know how to do this. I was in college, finally doing something for myself, finally living my dream. But I wasn't going to put my sister aside, she needs me more than ever. I would want to talk more with her tomorrow, so I just slumped my body on the couch and tried to fall asleep the best I could.

Let’s see what happens.

After a little consideration, a valuable lesson of ‘sex discrimination’ for Donatti, and some paperwork, I could finally move over to Calvin’s lab to work with him.

After days turned into weeks, Calvin and I worked like a well-oiled machine. Helping each other figure out equations, setting up equipment for the different trials, and Listening to new and exciting music while working. I would always be enamored with him, but I tried to keep my feelings away from my work. As being told by Fran, when asking her to work with Dr. Evans, she would tell me that there was no professional relationship between a man and a woman, and say it would be a complete disaster if we were paired up together.

I wouldn’t let her judgment get the best of me, I would always want to keep my feelings out of the lab. But no matter what I tried to do, they would always come back. Also trying to figure out why he was taking up space in my mind for my everyday thoughts. But this moment was about to change for the better.

Just as I was about to start a new trial, I heard the phone start to ring. So, I paused the experiment and picked up the phone to see who was calling.

“Hello, Ava Mason speaking,” I say in a polite tone. But I hear someone on the other line, seeming they be out of breath. “Ava, it’s Harriet,” it sounded like something was wrong, I started to feel the hairs on the back of my neck, rise, sacred something happened to the kids. To Delilah. “Harriet, are you okay? Are the kids okay? What’s wrong?” I start to ask in a panicked tone. Wanting to know what’s happening on the other line.

“The kids are okay, there in the house in Linda’s room. But, there’s this woman here. She’s high as a kite, and saying she might know you, and she wants to see Del.” I can hear my heartbeat through my ears, and afraid it might just pop out of my chest. “Did she tell you her name?” was the only thing I asked back. “I think she said her name was Izzy? I’m not sure. But I think you should come down here. I’ve already called the police they should be here in a little bit. I’ll see you soon.” After that, I hear the line go dead, and hear complete silence.

How could this happen? Why is she here? How did she get here? There are so many thoughts zipping throughout your mind, that you don’t realize a couple of minutes later your cheeks feel wet. You start to breathe heavily, feeling like you're not getting enough air for some reason. You don’t know why, so you brace your hands on the table, and try to regain your breathing. Also, I do not notice that Calvin has walked back in from his run. Probably explaining what went wrong in the last trial, and what we can do better in the next.

I could see him walk towards me worriedly, wanting to know what was wrong with me. “I-I need… I need to go.” I mumble to myself, while also trying to look around for my belongings with tears still in my eyes. Trying to get out as fast as I can. But I could still feel Calvin watching me, I could see him try and touch my shoulder, but before he could, I backed away from him and made my way out the door.

As I’m walking down the hallway, I can hear Calvin calling after me. As I reach the end of the hallway I turn around. “This was a mistake…” I say to him. I turn back around make my way out of the building, and try to get back to my Duckie.

(Short Calvin POV)

As I’m sitting in the room I’m trying to tell Ava about the last problem we had in our trial. I was thinking about it when I was on my run. As I was spewing about what we could do to improve the next time, I did get to see her slumped over on the counter whimpering. When I finished talking about the trial, I turned to see her standing up straight and seeing she had red, puffy eyes. Like she’s been crying for a few hours. I tried and ask her if something was wrong, but I could only hear her mumbling that she had to go while grabbing her belongings and trying to leave. I walk over to her some more and try, to get her to calm down, but she jolts away from me and looks at me with her red eyes like I branded her with evil words. I tried and ask what was wrong but she was already out the door, wondering if was something I did. Because whatever it may concern, I was certainly going to try and fix it.

I try and run after her but I see her turn around, saying that this was a mistake. Then she disappeared around the corner.

I’m still in shock by what happened, I’m trying to think back to see what I could’ve done to make her want to stop working with me. Was it the way I work, the way I leave peanut crumbs on the table and not clean up after? I would simply change anything. Anything to see her again in the lab. Seeing her smile anytime I would try to make a stupid joke, the way her nose crinkles when she trying to solve an equation. I would do anything to see her face again.

Anything.

(Back to your POV)

I barely put the car in park when I pulled up to Harriet’s house a nervous wreck. I can also see Izzy on the porch steps crying, and yelling back at Harriet telling her that she’s not leaving until she sees me and Delilah. As I’m walking up next to Harriet, she already sees me, and wrapping me in her embrace. 

“I came here as soon as I called, where are the kids?” I ask her in a panic. “The kids are fine, Del’s a little shaken up. But they are safe in the house.” She tells me all of this, but I can see out of the corner of my eye Izzy trying to stand up and stumble her way over to us.

“Hi, Peach, how have ya been?” I feel a shutter throughout my whole body. Trying not to let those bad memories creep back into my mind.

“W-what are you doing here Izzy?” I’m trying my hardest to speak in a civil tone with her while trying not to break down.

“I’m here for my daughter,” She says back to me in a slurred type voice. “I’m better now-” “Yea I can clearly see that Izzy. The cops are coming, so I think you should go.” Me and Harriet walk past her, so we can see how the kids are holding up.

“She’s my Daughter!” She shouts at you. Thinking she has a say in what happens with Delilah at this point. 

“And I’m Her Guardian! I am supposed to provide a safe and loving home for her. And I need to protect her and make sure she’s cared for so If you love your daughter. If you love me. Then leave.” You can’t help it. You let the tears fall down your cheeks and walk up the rest of the way.

As I get into the house, We call out for the kids. As we call them, I can see Linds’a bedroom door open a little bit. When I tell them it was just Harriet and I, I can see all three kids crash into us. Lina and Jr. rush over to Harriet. I still have Delilah with me in my arms, I try to soothe and calm her crying down a little bit. 

Anytime, I would try and put her down, she would want to cling to me more. So I just let her lay with me on the couch in the living room, and wait until the cops come.

When they show up just one comes inside and asks about what happened while another stays outside with Izzy.

Harriet gave her statement, and I gave mine. There are so many thoughts running millions of miles throughout my head. I zone out while talking. The only thing I really have control over is my body, and that is clinging onto my niece for dear life and comfort. 

After a while, they take Izzy into custody and tell us she’ll appear in court in the next couple of days. We said our goodbyes and lots of ‘Are you okay’ from Har, and in return said that we were fine.

While lying in bed, with Del curled up on my chest watching her body rise and fall with each steady breath she takes. Even when I try and switch positions in the bed, she clings onto me tighter than the last time. So, for now, I just watch her, not really being able to fall asleep. The only thing on my mind that keeps replaying is Deliah and her safety with me. What if Izzy comes back, and what if she does more than just complain that she wants to see Delilah? What if she really takes her? 

Over the past two months, Del has been my entire world, she makes my days better when she’s here with me and I wouldn’t change it for the world.

I try to bring those awful thoughts to the back of my mind. I just want to be the present, with the people I love and care about. Del, Harriet, and the kids, Calvin…

Oh shit.

Just as I was about to fall asleep when my eyes widened. I completely forgot that I snapped at Calvin earlier today, I didn’t tell him what was going on, and I didn’t get to say I was sorry for snapping on him. I just might be the biggest asshole on planet earth. I just really hope he’s not that mad at me, I honestly feel so awful about what I did to him today. Hopefully, he will be there tomorrow, so I can tell him. Maybe even tell him about what’s going on. But for right now I want to let my mind lay to rest and get a good night's sleep for a change.

Well, that sure as shit didn’t happen.

As soon as I was in the building, I made my way up to the lab as quickly as possible, making sure I could catch Calvin before he went on his run. But he wasn’t in the room when I entered. Maybe I did miss him, I’ll wait and see.

But before I could put my stuff away, I saw a little torn-out piece of paper on the lab table. I went over to see what it was. 

When I saw the note I could make out Calvin’s handwriting, I dropped everything and looked at what he had written down.

‘I’m not in today. I’m sorry for whatever I did. I’m sorry.’

-Calvin

My eyes started to well up with tears, why would I snap at him like that? I feel absolutely terrible. I wish he was here to explain everything. Wanting to tell him everything that has happened. But I can’t, maybe I can catch him tomorrow, and tell him. But for now, I just sit in the lab and worry about everything that's happening in my life right now.

The next couple of days I spent in agony. Calvin never showed up once to the lab. Or even the building, to be honest, I think I really screwed this up. I think we were working on a really good friendship. Maybe even more…

“No, No Ava, snap out of this. You’re going to go over and talk? You're going to talk and that’s it.” You try and get those stupid thoughts out of your system. You don’t know why but you decided to drop everything and not go to work today.

So you decided to take a walk around the neighborhood with Poppy and Delilah. Just want to get some fresh air, and let out all of the bed energy from this week. Maybe even stop by Calvin's Hariet’s. 

When you reach Harriet's house, you turn around to see if anyone is out around Calvin’s. You see all the curtains closed, no one in sight. But you did hear some commotion in the backyard. Of course, you decide to do your own investigation and go over to his place.

You walk up to his driveway and want to go knock on the door, but you see someone in the garage. You can see that it’s open. You peer in and see Calvin in his element. Apparently, he was using this type of orch to row. You try and call out to him, but he simply ignores you.

You call him one more time to get his attention. “Calvin!” you call out. Apparently, this time he listened.

“What?” he says with some force behind it. You step back a little bit trying not to get him too worked up.

“I see that you weren’t in the lab this week… And Danotti said to me they were firing people if we didn’t finish our research.” He gets up and starts wiping his face down. Wiping off the glistening sweat that rests on his forehead, you really didn’t want him to. He looked more handsome, not waiting to look away from him.

“More pressure. Perfect.” Out of nowhere, he throws the towel down to the ground. “Do you know what I’ve done ever since I won 2 years ago?” Genuinely asking in a gritty tone. I just shake my head a little. “Nothing. Nothing.” He takes a second to speak again. Seeming like he didn’t want to get too angry if I was around.

“I go into that lab every day, I shut the door because I don’t want people to see that I haven’t accomplished a damn thing.” There was a pregnant pause in the air. I wanted to speak up but he continued. “I was all out of ideas… Until I met you, Ava. And you had so many. It was like I could finally breathe again.” At that moment. I wanted to rush into his arms and never wanted to leave him.

And then, all of that fades away. “You left me with no explanation. You just– you left me.” I step forward a little bit, trying to see if he could let me in more. He didn’t say anything, so I kept moving forward. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you, Calvin. There was something that happened that day. It… it’s hard for me to talk about.” There was once again a long pause of silence, trying to see who would speak up first.

“I really miss working with you,” you say to him. “I miss that too.” You could hear some giggling coming your way. You both turn around when you see Delilah waddling over to you with Harriet right on her tail. “I’m sorry Ava, she said she really needed her aunty.” I pick her up and she drops her head right onto my shoulder. I look back to see Calvin with wide eyes. I walk towards him a little bit. I let out a chuckle and started the conversation back up again.

“I’m sorry for not introducing you sooner. Calvin this is my niece Delilah. Hey Duckie, this is Mr. Calvin. We work together.” I see her head come out of my shoulder and give a small wave. “Hi, Mr.Calvin” and give him a toothy grin. We all let out a little laugh. Giggling with the little girls' antics she always has.

“Maybe you can come over later. We can talk more there.” “O-okay, where do you live?” Asking me, I completely forgot to tell him that I lived in the neighborhood. “I actually live a couple of doors down. I realized when I dropped you off after the pageant.” I tell him. He again has wide-set eyes, looking at me like I just moved here from Mars. He doesn’t say anything, “I’ll see you later Calvin.” You turn and walk away when Del wants to be out of your hold. You let her go, thinking she wants to walk by herself, but she waddles her way over to Calvin and wraps her whole body around his leg. “Goodbye, Mr. Calvin!” she lets go and waddles her way back to you. You both leave with smiles on your face when you leave Calvin’s house.

To be honest, you don’t know how you can keep things professional between the two of you. You also don’t know how Delilah just met him, and she adores him. For some reason, you both don’t want to let go.

Let’s see what happens.

Reblogs are always welcome. Unless you're under 18. I will block you. and comment if you want to be added to the taglist. If I forgot anybody message me and let me know. You will be added.

Taglist: @petersunderoos96 @mrspedropascal5683 @callsign-magnolia @angelbabyyy99

dividers are by @saradika

[aventvrina]

Author portrait. Get to know the author behind the blog! repost, do not reblog.

Basics.

Name/nickname: Z/Uzi/Uzir all from Uziris Age: 29 Pronouns: She/her Years of writing: 13 on tumblr, 16+ if we count MSN

Reflection.

Why did you pick up writing? - I picked up writing around the same time I picked up drawing. It was just something I kinda always did on instinct, I gotta thank a lot my cousins for putting up with me being my first beta readers. But honestly it was mostly do I could make my own fun with my characters. Do you have any writing routines? - I fear I am a very in the moment writer. I've tried all my life to change it but if I'm not feeling it it's not coming. (Yes, I did suffer a lot writing my thesis how could you tell?) However, when I'm in the mood I only have two options, either I write a thesis and two books in one setting or I write one paragraph that satisfies the urge and call it a day. There's no in between. What's your favorite part about writing? - Character exploration. Love to put to words the gremlin's thoughts and explore the living hell out of everything they do, think, own, feel. Every little detail offers so much, a gesture, a pause, a glance, it's so telling I love it. And well, breaking them in too, I don't mean this in a literal sense, but more so, in putting them in challenges (good or bad) that put to test their foundations and see what comes of it. Let's get that inner development!!

Three things you like about your writing.

One. Oh man this isn't really something I think about? I just kind of go with what comes to mind at the moment. I guess I like the simplicity? I try to go for something that's easy to read through and get the gist mostly cause I know a lot of times my writing can come off weird by trying to put to words what makes sense grammatically in one language for another. Two. I'll be very honest I am coming at a blank here. Maybe the length? I know it's stupid to like lengthy replies but i'm a yapper by nature and I guess that also translates into writing which I don't mind at all. A lot of times I have to slap my wrist over length and erase a few paragraphs cause there's no need to offer that much info for something small, I wish I knew how to be short and concise but alas. Three. How direct it is? I could go and try to double read or rewrite stuff but honestly the less i think about it the better it comes off. So all my replies are first tries. I do sometimes put some previous structure to it so i remember what i wanted to go for but in the end, whatever comes out is what i was telling myself at the moment without thinking too much.

A question for the next person.

Write a question for the next person to answer. Once you've answered it, leave a new question for someone else to answer.

When life throws you lemons, and gets you down, does writing become something that you're drawn to as to get you through it, or do you feel like it does the opposite?

This heavily depends, I have used writing and rping to work through bad times before, it helped me as much as it damaged me but then again it's not like i had much choice back then. Nowadays I rather keep it at arms length. As much as I feel that it could help, this is supposed to be a hobby I enjoy, if i come with a spoiled mood to it, it'll ruin the fun. I will look at what I wrote and be reminded of what I was going through rather than whether I enjoyed it or not. Specially if I'm going through a very rough time, as it has happened before.

Tell me about your favourite roleplay experiences ! what was a thread that you really enjoyed ?

I don't know if anyone here knows what IScribble is but it was one of my first rp spaces where i rped both in writing and drawing. It was genuinely fun, met one of my irl best friends there and we kept rping through MSN with OCs. Despite the obvious cringe plots/ideas and very, very bad english, it was one of the most fun i have ever had rping where we started with two ocs and ended up crafting a whole entire community and lore surrounding them. And of course, ended up with a life-long friend.

Thread wise though, it has to be back on 2017/18 when i was rping in a Firefly themed closed rp group. Since it was closed, all our characters had to personally know each other and their stories merged together on the ship, during one of the events there were huge breakthroughs in a significant character relationship that still lives rent free in my head cause it was completely spontaneous. We had nothing planed except that they were acquainted from a mission before boarding the ship, all else that transpired was just pure back and forward jumping on the characters reactions to each other and it was -chefs kiss- We ended up having a lot of fun before the rp shut down and we all moved on with life (mel from hell if you're out there love ya! sol to my sid & jane to my petra)

New question: When you're in a writing funk what inspires you to write?

Tagged by: @artisaen & @iniziare (smooching you both) Tagging: @liecoris, @shrineofprophecy, @wolfkcst, @pairidaezah & you!!!

[lunathebee]

If you’re still taking requests, can I request #8 "Don't go near him! Stay back!" with Marc Spector🫣 i just feel that he protects everyone but he deserves to be protected too!! Anyway, thank you love!!🫶🫶

Pairing: Marc Spector x fem!reader

Warning: none

A/n: This is actually exactly what I think when I wrote that dialouge prompt btw

Summary: Marc's worst fear is being unable to protect you, but now it is also you risking your life to protect him. 😭😭

"Hmm, are you cooking something?" Marc walks into the kitchen with a sheepish smile on his face, his bed hair sticking out in all directions like a hedgehog, and Y/n can't help but laugh at how adorable it is. "Pft, my hair is a mess, ignore it"

Marc comes up behind Y/n and wraps his arm around her waist, placing a small kiss on her neck and letting out a small "mwah." He loves it when there are domestic moments like this: just you, him, and the amazing smell of food.

"Baby, can you go grab me two plates? And please at least put a shirt on." Y/n sneaks a glare at Marc before looking back down at the chopping board, trying to ignore how her face is starting to heat up.

No matter how long Y/n has known Marc, the sight of his naked body make her mind go wild. 'Blame the weather' and 'This is how I sleep' are two of the most common answers she has get from her lover now, who knows what else he will come up with next time?

Y/n let out a small sigh while chopping fruits, but suddenly there is a strange feeling creeping up on her; her sixth sense is saying there is something at the front door, and whatever it is, it is not a good thing.

"Baby?" Marc said while holding the plates that Y/n had asked for earlier, shifting his attention from her to the door. "Babe...you okay?"

*knock knock*

The sound of someone knocking on the apartment's door can be heard, but after a few seconds of total silence, the door is kicked down with a loud snap.

"WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?! GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Y/n screams when she sees a group of people standing at the doorway; they don't even seem bothered by her existence, and that's when Y/n knows she's not their target.

With trembling hands, Y/n reaches for the knife on the chopping board and swings it if anyone approaches Marc. "Don't go near him! Stay back!"

Marc is now furious; his enemies seriously just ruined a perfect morning AND made his lover afraid? 

"It's okay, babe. Close your eyes and look away." Marc whispered softly to Y/n, swiftly taking the knife she was gripping with all her strength. "I will finish this."

Y/n doesn't want to know what will happen next, but after just 15 minutes, she can feel Marc's tight embrace again, holding her close. Both of them are too shocked and scared of what just happened, fearing for the other's safety.

"Never do that again." Marc stroked Y/n's hair while waiting for her answer; he didn't want to sound so strict, especially when she was still shaking like a leaf from everything.

Y/n tries not to cry after hearing Marc's voice; her mind goes blank. "What...?"

"Never risk your life like that when I'm with you, when I'm beside you, when I can protect you."

[jamiesfootball]

in light of all your snippets from the one that makes you sick dunking me in the angst cauldron lately (COMPLIMENT), take this as an opportunity to share anything you feel like about/from that fic (or any of the others) 🌹🌻🌹

Waaaaaaaaah thank you!!!!!

This one began as a classic 'I had the idea for one scene, wrote that, and now I've got to write everything else around it.' In this case I started at the end and worked backwards. It's a very free-flowing method, which is a nice break from some of my other, plotty-er things.

The basic summary is that Jamie's has started to remember bits and pieces of Amsterdam (maybe; it's not like he can know for sure, can he?) leading to him having a mental health crisis while he's in Brazil with Keeley, who is so far out of the loop in terms of what is going on and trying her best not to make it worse. Meanwhile Roy is stranded back in London, losing his mind over the very troubling texts he's receiving from the both of them.

This one is going to be wrapped in trigger warnings. Nothing graphic, but Jamie's head is not a happy place and some of what he's 'remembering' paints a very bad picture of how that night went as his brain plays fill-in-the-trauma-blanks.

Here's a fairly long snippet. No immediate trigger warnings apply:

Keeley woke with a start. Choking on a gasp, her eyes scanned frantically around the cheery little room of the villa where they were staying. The accommodations were lovely. Even in the dark, the bright paintings and fresh flowers caught the ambient light from the window, cradling the room in a dim and soothing warmth. The air smelled sweetly of orchids.

She'd heard someone scream.

She didn't know how long she'd sat there, her breath rattling in her chest. She listened desperately for a follow up sound- anything that would politely let her know if she was about to be murdered. She didn't even have her normal keychain with her - the one with the thingy on it for breaking windows and tail lights. They wouldn't let you bring that sort of thing through customs, and, fuck, she should've taken Rebecca up on the offer to use the jet. Now someone was coming to murder her and all she'd have to defend herself was a flower pot.

Unless she could sneak to the kitchen. There were knives in the kitchen; Jamie had used a big knife that morning to cut up fruit for his smoothie-

Jamie.

Her worries flipped upside-down. She flung her feet out of bed before she realised what she was doing.

Tiptoeing the short distance down the hallway, she came to a pause in front of the other bedroom. She listened closely.

Jamie wasn't a snorer - not like she was - but he wasn't exactly quiet either. He made soft, wheezy little noises when he slept. She'd always thought it was cute.

On the other side of his bedroom door, the room was loudly silent.

Keeley swallowed. Her hand raised to knock, but she hesitated at the last second. Her fist looked small against the impressive stature of the door.

The longer she stood still, the louder the silence grew. He was awake; she knew it.

"Jamie?" she whispered gently. "Are you up, love?"

Something rustled. Maybe. It could've been the air, or her own bare feet shifting against the floor.

It's only a wooden door, she thought fiercely, her eyes beginning to sting. It's only a few metres. But I don't want to make you upset again. I need you to tell me it's okay- that we're okay. Jamie. Please.

The room on the other side of the door remained deathly silent.

Time stretched for a millennia as she trembled in the hallway.

Woodenly, she lowered her fist. She padded softly towards the kitchen.

When she returned, she carried a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Well, the closest thing to it that she could whip together with what had come in the gift basket and what was stocked in the fridge. Without tea, she didn't know what else to do.

"There's a drink out here for you, babe," she whispered through the door. She knelt down to put the mug and it's makeshift saucer-plate on the tile. "If you need-"

Anything. Anything at all.

"-I'm right down the hall. Okay?"

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

some posts

the titles are not to be taken seriously, i just wrote down the same titles i had saved them as in my bookmarks.

i thought about whether i should include my jikook/jk posts not because i want to negate i ever felt that way, but because while re-reading some of those posts i had an almost out of body experience and felt like i was reading things someone else said, considering how different my opinion of jungkook and jikook is right now. but well, i decided to keep them because in the end all that stuff did happen and i did feel that way at some point, even if now it's changed.

chemistry =/= relationship

skinship 1

hey what made you believe in jikook

moments

skinship 2

taekookers 1

vmin 1

possibilities sexuality and not knowing

living arrangements

family agenda wearing off

changes post 2020

tae doesn't mind being shipped with jk

jikook

jungkook is not dainty

fanservice realselves perception

taekook

herd mentality is real

all relationships in bts pretty much look the same to me

not living together

jk doesnt care what you think

physically affectionate jinkook jk not honest

get out of your imagination taekook instagram

jungkook doing fanservice (just realized that wasn't the question lmao)

why publicly solve a conflict that nobody really knew existed in the first place

not special moments

fav bts song fav jimin hairstyle fav jimin era

jikook "timeline"

they would totally lie about a relationship

larry

vminkook power struggle

soulmates and love in general

i don't have all the information i need to say for sure that they're in an official full stablished monogamous relationship

jimin hates fanservice

jimin no collab until after military

jimin solo career company nitpicking activities for members

jimin solo career - i know this fandom so well sjkdj

proof is a money grab album and everything is sad also: jungkook you're literally everything that went wrong with the group after 2020 congratulations on destroying bts

catastrophic jikook interactions same as everyone else's

everything jikook is about the overanalyzing and i hate it

some bts members feed the fandom's narratives

jk physically affectionate hoseok jin + not completely honest filling in the blanks

jk saying taehyung is the most handsome he's ever seen

jimin is infinite to me + weverse interview

tattoos

jimin is irresistible (only for the pics)

[maureensmistress]

Birthday Girl

Your birthday isn't exactly a cause for celebration, but Pattie knows how to cheer you up.

Or: it's my birthday and I don't have anyone to celebrate with, so I wrote this instead.

angst, pre-slash, longing, drabble

Words: 750

It’s not like it’s the first time they’ve forgotten your birthday. 

You remember the first time vividly, and today you try to put it out of your mind, because you cried then and you are not going to cry now. You’re eighteen. You’re an adult. Far too old to care if your mommy and daddy remembered your birthday. 

And maybe they haven’t even forgotten, you reminded yourself. Maybe they remembered you but just didn’t – no, no, that was worse. Much worse. You weren’t going to think about that. 

Your parents forgot your eighteenth birthday. So what? As if you cared. As if anyone would care about something this stupid. This is what you told yourself as you sat under the bleachers in the cold and the rain and refused to let your tears fall, refused to be hurt by people who had no right to be able to hurt you. Who any reasonable person would have given up on a long time ago. You were just being stupid, and who cried about something this stupid?

You did, apparently. 

You didn’t notice her right away, your face buried in your sleeve. But then there was a gentle hand on your back, and you started slightly before you recognized that soft, ethereal touch as if it was written into your DNA. Pattie. And how stupid to feel this way when it was so obvious that the two of you would never be that fragile, beautiful thing you imagined late at night. But her hand was on your back, and it felt nice, and so you let yourself pull your face out of your sleeve to see her round blue eyes narrowed with concern. Her blonde hair was damp in the drizzling rain, but the way it hung raggedly around her round face only made her realer and more beautiful. 

“Don’t say it,” you said, voice thick with tears. It came out a bit harsh, your voice struggling slightly, but you didn’t want to hear any kindness or sympathy right now. You couldn’t stand it. 

Pattie smiled slightly, and you could tell it took a bit of effort, that she was trying to be casual even when she was tangled up in worry. That felt nice, you had to admit. For her to care. 

“I’m fine,” you said, and it didn’t matter that it was obvious that you were lying. That was what you were supposed to say. And Pattie would know how you felt anyways. She always did. She always saw straight through you with those enormous blue eyes that were so round and so sweet and saw absolutely everything. 

Pattie always knew how you felt, even when no one else could. No, when no one else cared. There was a time when you got a thrill from getting this kind of attention from a pretty, popular girl like her, but that was long gone. Now it was just a thrill to get that attention from her. From someone so kind and gentle and sweet you'd be forgiven in thinking she was simple too, except that she felt and understood things that no one else was willing to see, that you were terrified of seeing yourself. She was a flutter of joy you couldn't grasp, a fleeting smile that stayed fixed in your mind long after it had left her lips. You wanted so desperately to understand that smile, to understand her the way she understood you. 

But clearly you didn’t. Because instead of saying anything, instead of trying to convince you that you were alright, Pattie just twined her fingers with yours. Your hands were freezing from being outside in the cold and the drizzling rain, and her hands folded over yours so that they were encased in a soft heat. She looked at you without smiling, without expressing anything, and it created a blank slate where you could pour out your pain, and so you tucked your face into her shoulder and let the soft fabric of her coat absorb your tears. 

She rested her chin on your head, a little sharp but the contact felt so kind, and you snuggled closer. You knew the two of you would never experience the closeness that you truly wanted. But you also knew that she was the only person who could ever make you feel so safe, so loved, so unafraid, who could ever make you feel as if life was painless when there was so much pain. And so you held onto that moment. 

And it felt nice. 

[flowercrowncrip]

hello. i've applied for PIP and i'm going to be filling out the "how does your disability affect you" form as soon as i can get someone to help me with it. i noticed that you are also in the UK and if it's alright with you i'd like to ask if you have any advice on filling the application out?

Hi! It’s been a while since I filled in that one but I do have a bit of advice. I don’t know your specific circumstances so sorry if I’m just repeating what you already know. If anyone else has better/ more/ different advice please add to this!

The first thing I’d say that nobody told me was that filling it in can be quite difficult emotionally. It’s a chunky form and takes quite a long time to fill in and a lot of that time will be spent thinking about all the suckiest parts of your disability and everything you can’t do and need help with. I definitely wasn’t prepared for how that would make me feel. I’d have a think about whether you’ll prefer to do it over a few days or if you want to get it all done as quickly as possible. If I were doing it again I’d want to plan something nice to do afterwards to try and take my mind off it. Basically do what works for you and make sure you take care of yourself while and after filling it in.

The rest is practical advice I got from various places (other disabled people, Citizens advice, disability organisations). It seemed to work well for me, but my disability is significant and well documented enough that it would have been surprising if I’d had to appeal the result of my assessment.

One thing I did was I planned all my answers in advance in bullet points before writing anything in the booklet. You can also type answers on a separate document if that’s easier. I ended up writing a lot more per question than I was given room for so having spare paper on hand if you or whoever’s helping you fills it in by hand. When I did it we always wrote down in the booklet where we’d used extra paper to make sure it all got read.

I was told to never assume the person doing the assessment knows anything about your conditions and to always write everything down even if seems really obvious or your conditions are well known. Like don’t assume that an assessor knows that chronic fatigue syndrome/ ME causes chronic fatigue, or that spastic cerebral palsy causes muscle spasticity. And don’t assume they know that fatigue might make it difficult to think clearly or that spasticity can cause pain. And don’t assume that if you wrote something in your explanation for question 1 that they’ll remember it when you get to question 5. It’s annoying and you end up repeating yourself a lot but it strengthens your case and builds a better picture of your disability if you lay everything out clearly each time. Never tick that you can’t do something and leave the explanation box blank – always give an explanation where prompted.

The other thing I was told was don’t tick that you can do something unless you can do it safely, reliably and as many times as you need to in a day. If you technically could use a knife but you’d be putting yourself or others at risk doing so then you can’t safely use a knife. If you can walk 20m in the morning but by midday you’re in too much pain to walk more than a few steps then you can’t walk 20m as many times as you need to a day. If you can sometimes feed yourself but suddenly lose the ability to hold a fork several times a week then you can’t reliably feed yourself. Always write what a bad day looks like and how often on average that happens as well as how predictable bad days/ symptoms are. Always spell out exactly why you can’t do something safely/ reliably/ repeatedly. If not having the right support has caused accidents or other significant problems then include what happened/ is happening and what the consequences were/ are.

I hope it goes well filling in the form. I know it’s far from the nicest thing in the world to have to do. And I really hope that they listen to you and you get a fair result relatively quickly. Good luck!