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stargazer-sims · 4 months

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Making breakfast and bring it to your bed - for Victor and Yuri thanks

Thanks @dandylion240 ! All of these prompts are so cute. I'm glad you asked me one, because I couldn't decide which one(s) I wanted to do first. I really enjoyed doing this one, and I think I'll try to choose a few more to do, and set them in the same general time period.

Anyway, I'm putting this one under a cut because it's long. Enjoy!

__________

Yuri cracks an egg and watches with a strange kind of fascination as its contents plop into the clear glass bowl on the counter in front of him. He can't help marvelling at himself, at all the ways in which he's changed. There was a time when he wouldn't have touched an egg, let alone broken one open. The mere thought of the slimy egg white and squishy yolk would've sent him running for the nearest restroom with his stomach trying to turn itself inside out.

Amused at the memory of his squeamish former self, he wipes a bit of egg off his fingers with a paper towel and then drops both it and the eggshell into the trash bin. Careful not to get any on himself this time, he cracks two more eggs into the bowl and begins to whisk them. When he's satisfied that the yolks and whites are well blended, he adds some milk. A splash of vanilla extract goes in next, followed by a dash of nutmeg and a generous pinch of cinnamon.

Yuri knows this recipe by heart now. French toast is on Victor's list of favourite things to have for breakfast, and although Yuri himself isn't a fan, he's learned to make it because it's one of the simple pleasures in Victor's life. When they first met fifteen years ago, Yuri recognized almost straight away that Victor was the sort of person who knew how to take joy where he found it, even in the smallest of occurrences. He's still like that, always ready to appreciate the little things and to find reasons to be happy and grateful.

Yuri likes doing things to make his husband smile. Breakfast in bed should be a nice surprise for him this morning, especially after returning home from what Yuri can only infer was a particularly difficult overnight shift.

Victor got back from his shift at the hospital less than an hour ago. After giving Yuri a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, he'd gone straight upstairs to shower and sleep. On most mornings after a night shift, he doesn’t go to bed immediately. After showering, he normally makes his way back downstairs to share breakfast with Yuri and chat about their respective evenings. He does most of the talking. Yuri typically doesn't have much to say since he's often in bed by the time Victor leaves, but he's content to listen to Victor's anecdotes about cute or funny patients and his recounting of the daily drama of the paediatric unit's staff.

When Victor doesn't want to talk about his night, Yuri knows it must've been a rough one. Victor copes with the stress of caring for sick and injured children fairly well, and Yuri thinks he's figured out how not to become too emotionally invested in his patients, but Victor is a loving and sensitive person and besides, no one is completely immune to the psychological effects of trauma and tragedy.

Only a week ago, he'd come home crying because one of his new patients that day was a six year old girl who'd lost her father in a car crash involving a drunk driver. He'd barely been able to get that much information out before he was full-on sobbing in Yuri's arms. The only other coherent phrase Yuri had caught was, "She's called Caroline."

Victor's younger sister's name was Caroline. Thirty years ago, when he was just six years old, he'd lost her and their father in a collision with an impaired driver. His patient's circumstances had obviously overwhelmed him, and if he wasn't ready to talk, Yuri understood why.

The best thing to do, Yuri knows, is to let Victor come to him when he feels comfortable. Often, they'll be curled up in bed together and Victor will tell him in subdued tones about the death of a patient, the raw anger, fear or grief of a parent, or the crushing cosmic injustice of a child suffering with an incurable disease.

Yuri doesn't say anything, because Victor doesn't want sympathy or advice. All he wants is for someone to hear him and comfort him, to help him let the bad thoughts go. Yuri is more than willing to do that. He just holds him and tells him he's brave and says how proud he is of him.

With the egg mixture ready, Yuri turns his attention to cutting up some fruit. He wants everything else to be prepared before he cooks the French toast, so he can plate it and take it upstairs while it's still hot. The eggs probably have enough protein, so he doesn't bother with any side meat, but he does cut some cubes of cheese and arranges them alongside the slices of orange and quartered strawberries.

Soon, the kitchen is filled with the scent of the sizzling French toast. It smells heavenly, and he wishes fleetingly that he could appreciate the flavour as much as he appreciates the aroma.

Three golden slices of French toast and a tall glass of cold milk later, the preparations are complete. Almost.

Struck by sudden inspiration, Yuri hurries out the back door and into the yard. In late May, his garden is already in bloom and it’ll only grow more vibrant and beautiful as spring brightens into summer.

He studies the flowers for a few seconds. The tulips are blossoming in abundance. He carefully picks a red one — Victor’s favourite colour — and brings it back to the house.

Laying the red tulip on the breakfast tray next to the utensils rolled in a white cloth napkin, Yuri decides the meal looks perfect. He carries the entire thing upstairs.

The door of Victor's room is partially open, as if he were anticipating Yuri joining him. When Yuri steps across the threshold, he notices that Victor is in bed, but he's certain he isn't sleeping. The blankets are pulled up to his neck and he's curled on his side, facing away from the door. Victor doesn't like to sleep curled up like that. He has a tendency to sprawl, and he doesn't like to have his arms under the blankets for whatever reason.

The chunky bedside table is just large enough to accommodate the breakfast tray, and Yuri sets it down.

"Victor?" He says his husband's name quietly, so as not to startle him.

Victor rolls onto his back. He opens his eyes, and upon seeing Yuri, he offers a tiny smile. "Hello again."

"Are you okay?" Yuri asks him.

"I'm okay. Just tired."

"I made breakfast for you."

Victor angles his gaze toward the bedside table, and his reaction at seeing the tray of food is absolutely not what Yuri expects. In the space of a heartbeat, his eyes fill with tears. Victor has always cried easily, but this is unusual and alarming.

"Victor, what's wrong?" Yuri asks, anxious as to what it could be.

"Nothing," Victor replies. He sniffles. "Nothing's wrong. It's just... I really love you. I love that you thought of bringing me breakfast in bed."

Yuri climbs onto the bed and slips under the covers with him. It's immediately obvious that Victor wants to be cuddled more than he wants food, and Yuri doesn't hesitate to oblige. Victor rests his head on Yuri's chest, and Yuri combs his fingers through his soulmate's beautiful silver hair. Victor cries softly for a few minutes, but eventually he settles beneath Yuri's gentle touch.

"Okay?" Yuri asks, once he realizes Victor's tears have subsided.

"Yeah," Victor says.

"I love you."

"I know. Even if you never said the words, I'd know. It's what keeps me going, having you to come home to. Like, when the whole world feels as if it's spinning out of control, as long as I've got you, I always know there's a safe place for me."

"Was it bad last night?"

Victor nods. "Yeah, it was. We lost a patient. A little boy. Nine years old."

"I'm sorry," Yuri says.

"And then there's Caroline," Victor continues. "The little blind girl who got admitted last week. You know, the one from the car crash? Dr. Reid-Mayfield told me they're going to have to discharge her into foster care. I mean, I know that's how it goes, but like... she doesn't speak English, and she's just been through all this horrible stuff, and..." He trails off, as if he's suddenly run out of words. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Yuri reassures him. "She's gotten into your head, hasn't she?"

"Maybe into my heart would be more accurate," Victor says. "That's not supposed to happen, but I guess I let my guard down."

"Perhaps it happened for a reason."

"I don't know," Victor says, and Yuri thinks his tone sounds more pensive than doubtful.

They're quiet for several minutes after that, until the silence is broken by Victor's stomach growling audibly. Yuri has to stifle a laugh as Victor murmurs, "Shh..." as if his body might actually respond.

"Let me guess," Yuri says. "You're too comfortable now to sit up and eat?"

"No, I'm definitely ready to eat. I just wish I could be comfortable and full at the same time."

Yuri finally lets his laughter out. "I'll tell you what. Why don't you have your breakfast before it gets too cold? I'll stay in here with you, and then afterwards we can cuddle as long as you like. Then you can be comfortable and full at the same time."

"Don't you have to go to work?" Victor inquires.

"It's Saturday, love," Yuri reminds him.

"Oh. Right. Night shift rotations totally mess with my sense of time."

"Fortunately for you, you're on early shift for the next two rotations."

"Yeah," Victor confirms. "And I've got three days off now, so my brain can recover before I have to go back." He rolls away from Yuri and sits up. Then, he reaches for the breakfast tray and positions it on his lap. "This looks amazing, by the way."

"Thank you," Yuri says. "Here's hoping it tastes as good as it looks."

"What are you talking about? French toast is your specialty."

Judging by the way he devours it, Victor's initial assessment of the French toast must be correct. He shares the fruit with Yuri, feeding him pieces of strawberry with his chopsticks.

Yuri recalls a time in the past when his doctor had put a strict ban on Victor feeding him anything. He's never had the best relationship with food and eating, and when he refused to eat on his own back then, Victor had fed him. It'd grown into a dangerous habit that they'd been forced to break in the cause of literally saving Yuri's life.

They still stick to the rules for the most part, but these days they're both confident enough not to be concerned about a small indulgence here and there. Yuri likes the attention, and although Victor probably wouldn't admit it, Yuri is convinced he likes to baby him sometimes. In any case, Yuri isn't about to complain.

Victor places the tray on the floor beside the bed once he's done eating, and then he and Yuri snuggle under the blankets again. When Victor kisses him, Yuri tastes maple syrup. He smiles against Victor's mouth and whispers, "You taste wonderful."

"Like dessert?" Victor says.

"Mmm..."

"So, what you're really saying is that breakfast in bed isn't over yet? You brought me more than French toast?"

Yuri isn't so lacking in awareness as to believe Victor has forgotten everything he carried home from the hospital in his mind, nor that he's forgotten their earlier conversation. They may revisit it again later, but Victor has the enviable ability to live in the moment and right now he clearly isn't dwelling on his worries and fears.

Breakfast in bed, it seems, is indeed not over yet.

#sapphire answers #writing #writing prompt #oc asks #yuri okamoto #victor nelson #stargazersims

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pesterloglog · 5 months

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Arquiusprite, Davepetasprite^2

Act 6, page 7923-7927

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Nepeta?!

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < yeah!!!

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> I mean

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Dave?!

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < yeah!!!

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Dave and Nepeta,

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Nepedavesprite?

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < davepeta!

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < (sprite squared lol)

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Davepeta Sprite Squared

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> It is I, Arquiusprite, to the first power

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Which is to say, Equius, and an artificial intelligence composite of your bro, in the form of the cool broken sunglasses I am wearing

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < yeah i know dummy! BPP

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> How is this possible?

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> How did you come to be??

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < umm i dunno

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < some shit happened

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < was on a tea date, shook hands with myself, you know

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < basic fuckery

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < how did YOU come to be???

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> I...

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Yes, that is a fair question

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Some b*llshucks happened, which made little to no sense, and now here I am

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> I can only presume this was the case for you as well, given your incoherent and poorly developed anecdote

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < what ya doin there bro?

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Huh? Oh. Nothing really

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Doing the final work for this session. Releasing the grist hoards. Nothing that matters now...

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Now...

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> That you're here

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> *Sniff*

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < yo are you crying??

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < awww

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Davepeta, I apologize for the embarrassing secretions from this imperfect, semi-organic form

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> How ironic, that I spend virtually 100% of my time secreting liquid from virtually 100% of my body's surface area, and yet a few more drops from my eyes would cause me such shame

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < h33h33h33 youre so fuckin gross!!!!

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < i really missed you dude

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> I missed you as well, or, I would have, had I permitted myself to think about you

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Alas, I failed to protect you from an unpleasant clown in the most disgraceful way possible, much to the shame of my dead troll half, and much to the disgust of my digital human half

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Hence, to the Nepeta portion of you, Davepeta,

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> I am so very STRONGLY sorry

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < theres nothin to apawlogize for!

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < nepeta furgave you for that and anyways im not even her anymore

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < i guess davesprite had some old issues with his bro he never really sorted out but hey im not him either!

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < and youre not his bro or equius youre arquius who is a new and cool and beautyifful thing and anyway all those old troubles are f33ling so overwhelmed by new and different emotions and its great!

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Yes, Davepeta, you're right

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> It is really fl*pping great

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> *Slight sob*

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < dawwwwwww

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < there there you blubbering goddamn cutie

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < *davepeta sniffs curiously at arquiusprites grody and emotional body*

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < *p33-yew davepeta exclaims, recoiling like they were just using their muzzle to investigate the business end of a shitting dog*

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> What are you...

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> I mean,

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> *Arquius submits his question to Davepeta in the form of a third person statement, thereby acknowledging once and for all that he is in no way above the childish nonsense of his former moirail*

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> *He in fact acknowledges by e%tension that he is not above anything or anyone, and never was*

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < omg yes!!!

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < i mean that was a good start but also a little abstract man, you should try incorporating some actual behaviors and actions into your RP things to punch them up

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Behaviors and actions?

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < yeah!

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < like think dude, how the hell is davepeta supposed to react cutely to some internal epiphany your havin? hows that shit externally TELEGRAPHED bro??

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> I see

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> *I mean, Arquius sees*

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> *Arquius soon realizes he will need a truly unreasonable supply of fresh, dry towels to absorb the perspiration caused by two separate lifetimes of regrets and foolishnesses*

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> *He embarks on a mystical quest of the spirit, through a land of his imagination's design as a part of his personal "Alternative Universe" fiction. It is a mountainous land consisting of only fresh, perfectly folded white towels, and rivers of milk running through its valleys*

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < yum yum!

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> *"Yum yum" indeed, he thinks to himself with his silicon brain, e%actly one trillion times per second, for several seconds. But now is no time to sup from the streams of dairy. He gathers a heap of clean towels in his strapping arms. Yes, these guns you see here. Two astonishing sinewed meat trunks clutch the unsodden rectangles of fabric, like tremendous baguettes of rippling, twitching protein tissue.*

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < B\\

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> *He reflects on his pair of powerful weapons with admiration, and wonders quietly if Davepeta would like a complimentary ticket to the gun show. But due to his obscenely powerful mind, this thought took place in the blink of a microsecond, and he proceeds to have additional, similarly rapid cyber-reveries. Including, but not limited to, thoughts of fondness for Davepeta, and some e%tremely comple% genetic algorithms comparing the merits of various redemptive gestures, and-

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < arquius youre RPing your internal thought process again

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Oh. Sorry

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < its ok for startin out, youll get the hang of it if you k33p at it

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < you being willing to try is all that matters and is hella nice B33

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < *starts to purr a sick beat!*

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> You mean, like a rap beat?

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < um, duhhh?

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> *Arquius wonders if the purred rap beat is strictly in the hypothetical plane of roleplay, or if it will be an audible phenomenon taking place in reality soon*

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < *davepeta gives a little knowing nod, as if to say, you bet your chiseled ass itll be an audible phenomenon in reality soon*

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> *Arquius begins fle%ing rhythmically, in time with the beat of the purred rap. This hypothetical role playing action should also be regarded as a precursor to this deed being literally e%ecuted in reality*

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < *davepeta starts droppin the illest purrbeat you ever heard but stops suddenly, as they become mesmerized by the hypnotic flexing of arquiusprites humongous muscles*

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Do you... really like them?

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> *He says*

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < i... really do

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < *they say*

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Would...

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> You like to touch my muscles, davepeta?

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < yes i believe i would

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Then I must command you

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Please touch my muscles

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < yes ok

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> I won't take no for an answer, Davepeta

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Touch my muscles

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < i said yes!

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Touch my muscles

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < yes!

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Touch my muscles

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < yes!!

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Touch my muscles

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < YES!!!

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < dammit dude

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < why dont we stop pussyfooting around stuff and get down to brass tacks

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> What brass ta% do you mean, Davepeta

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < i think you know B33

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Davepeta, are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < mmm hmmmm!

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> To be clear, you are insinuating that we attempt to e%ecute a rare, and highly sweet, "bro hug bump"?

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < hell yes i am!

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < i am insinuating that we attempt nyan other than that exact type of hug!

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < are you ready dude???

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Yes!

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < lets DO this thing

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Yes!!

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < lets make this shit work

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Yes!!!

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < where doing it man

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> YES!!!!

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < where MAKING THIS HAPEN

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> YES!!!!!

#homestuck #arquiusprite #davepetasprite^2 #homestuck act 6 #page 7923 #page 7924 #page 7925 #page 7926 #page 7927 #homestuck act 6 act 6 #homestuck act 6 act 6 intermission 5

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lost-in-time-marie · 5 months

Text

My Dissertation on Knowing Better and Doing It Anyways

When you called me on the way home from work to tell me it was over and we were done and done for good this time, I found myself in a state of horrific realization. One thought began circling me, like a bird of prey hunting me from above. It took a moment to sink in, to crash in on me. To whisk me off the face of this earth with its swift sharp talons. I had to fold myself up in the corner of the closet in the dark, try to keep the sobs from ripping me to pieces. My escape for the most desperate of times. Ten years and all I had to show for it was a ten minute phone call.

And even though I know you, I have ten years of anecdotal proof of exactly who and what you are and what you do and have done to me. I still did it anyway. Threw away all logic and reason and thoughts of tomorrow and the morning after. Lost myself in the idea, in that future could be I couldn’t help but mourn. I loved you one last time. As always, in a way you didn’t deserve. And, as always, you robbed me of the one small common decency I needed to make it out of this alive. You can’t just kill me, you have to twist the knife too.

I think about all the ways you used me. And the others that used me just like you. I think about all the ways I let people use me. And I used them too, to hurt myself, put myself down, punish or torture myself. All the ways I could tear myself down and tear myself apart and all the sacrificed pieces of me I lost.

I take long baths now. With candles and face masks and bath bombs. I meditate floating in the water. I go to the gym, even all by myself. I journal when I think I might send a few more shouting words to you. I keep all my appointments with Robert. I don’t always know what these things add up to, but I feel like they’re helping. I want to be kind to myself when no one else will, I want to always believe I’m worthy of that kind treatment and loving concern. I don’t want to let anyone use me ever again. I want to do things that are good for me, healthy, sustainable, that make me feel valued and heard and respected. I want to make my mind stronger than these feelings, and my boundaries greater than my empathy.

~K.

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ginnyw-potter · 2 years

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Hey!!! Could you write something about the first I love you from harry to ginny? And how was that walk in the gardens after their first kiss?

I am sorry but everything I write today seems to be a little bit sad?? Anyway I don't think they said their I love yous until after the war so that's what I wrote.

You can find the walk after their first kiss here.

A Dull Affair

Harry looked over the garden at The Burrow. It was a few hours after Fred’s funeral. The Weasley family and several friends and acquaintances had gathered to have dinner in Fred’s memory. Everyone was dressed in black, and the conversations being kept were often soft and contained, but here and there a laugh could be heard when anecdotes were shared. Harry thought it was quite right that people should be able to laugh, Fred would have wanted it that way. George wanted it that way too, he was sharing most of the anecdotes that caused people to laugh. His eyes were brimming with tears as he spoke but he kept talking, sharing stories and bringing comforting laughter to anyone listening in.

His gaze landed on Ginny. She was sitting by herself a little off to the side. He had missed her so, he had regrets, things he wanted to tell her and he knew he should wait, it wasn’t the right time to talk to her.

“I think she could use some company,” George said softly to him so no one could overhear.

Harry looked at him in surprise. George shot him a knowing look. Harry shook his head.

“I saw it in your eyes, go on.”

Harry smiled at him and got up and George turned his attention back to the rest of the group. Harry left his drink somewhere on a table and walked over to her.

She looked up as he approached and offered him a small smile. He sat beside her on the bench, both looking over the people who had gathered.

“I know this is awfully bad timing and you may hex me if you want-” he started, not meeting her eyes.

Ginny turned to look at him, her face relaxed as she listened.

“But I never got a chance to tell you...” He took a deep breath because he knew that once the words left his mouth, he could not take them back. “I never got a chance to tell you I love you.”

Ginny smiled while simultaneously a sob left her throat. Tears dropped from her eyes and Harry pulled her to him, letting her cry into him for however long she needed.

“I don’t expect anything from you, I just needed you to hear it,” he said then. He just wanted her to know. Her hand gripped his sleeve tightly. His hand rubbed her back in soothing circles.

Eventually, she sat up again, wiping at her tears. Her smile was bittersweet. “Can’t believe you told me you love me and I am crying.” She took a tissue from her pocket and dried her tears.

“Well, I’ll admit I have terrible timing,” Harry said, looking back over the Weasley family.

Ginny took his hand in hers and entwined their fingers, placing it in her lap. “You’ll find a better time to say it next time.”

Her eyes searched his. He nodded silently, a smile fighting to break through because it meant she wanted to hear him say it again. He squeezed her hand.

“Fred would have hated for his funeral to be such a dull affair,” Harry noted.

“You’re right,” Ginny replied as if she just had realised it too. She got up, her hand slipping from his. She stepped towards the group but then she turned back around to him. She walked back to him. She bent down to his ear. “I love you too, in case that wasn’t glaringly obvious.”

Her lips touched his cheek and he felt electricity run through his whole body. Their eyes met as she stood back up, her soft hazel eyes filled with warmth. He wanted to look at her face for several more hours but she turned around the next moment.

Harry watched as Ginny approached George and whispered something into his ear. George smiled in turn, nodding in agreement. The two siblings snuck off together, Harry couldn’t begin to guess what they were about to do, but he guessed the funeral was about to get less dull.

#hinny #harry potter #ginny weasley #fic #request #anon #ginny #harry

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eolewyn1010 · 2 years

Text

Dracula Daily, 2/2, with a little less cussing this time around:

When disturbed in his assault of Mina, Dracula drops her and attacks the dude squad, but is deterred by van Hellstoker holding up a Communion wafer at him. They corner him, but Dracula does one of his fancy Dramatically Appropriate Weather thingies, covering the moon in clouds, and until the dude squad has lit a gas lamp, Dracula has gone all mist and evaporates. The dude squad looks after Mina who has come to her senses and, understandably, screams in sheer terror. As she starts sobbing, van Hellstoker covers her with the blanket - this does nothing to make me think Stoker didn't mean this scene as a sexual assault metaphor. Arthur flees the situation, probably because he's hardcore flashbacking to Lucy; Quincey, I think, tries to follow Dracula. Our oh-so-competent Doctors wake up Jonathan who, of course, also goes into a bout of hysterics - and then murderous rage at Dracula. I am close to murderous rage at Stoker again because Mina goes on to call herself "unclean" and that she must touch or kiss Jonathan no more. I'm just gonna throw up real quick. At least Jonathan won't have any of that.

The dude squad gives each other an update - Dracula has burned Mina's entire vampire info manuscript before getting away. All that sore work would have been for nothing if they hadn't sealed away a copy in a safe. Also, Renfield is dead. Shocking. I don't think Dracula still had to do something there; Renfield was dying already, but we must have another little gore-fest. Mina adds her POV of Dracula's endeavours, and Dracula was really exceedingly gross and taunting her about the whole thing, how she might as well just hold still and how he would kill Jonathan if Mina screamed and how they all would pay for their insolence and so on and so forth. And he called Mina not only his "bountiful wine-press" (wtf, Dracula?) but also "flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, kin of my kin". Imagine if Stoker had written Mina's vampirizing process as completing. How cool would it be if Dracula had made himself a raging enemy, his equal in skills and strength? Ehm, anyway. Morning dawns, and Scheherazade falls silent.

Jack seriously thinks he could explain Renfield's crushed body to the coroner with, "he fell out of his bed". That ain't sus at all. The collected morons finally conclude that it's better to keep Mina informed, hurray! Mina also resolves to kill herself should she become a danger to people. Fair enough, as she thinks her soul is doomed in that case already; suicide shouldn't bear any more implications of eternal hell than running around and eating people. She lowkey asks van Hellstoker to do the job for her when it comes down to it though, and he hesitantly agrees. Which would be alright, but he calls it euthanasia and my history student brain wants to go liquid and run out of my ears. Stoker is really out to be a pain for me, isn't he? Van Hellstoker wants to hurry to make Dracula's lairs unusable for him as places of hiding and magics, and Jonathan, hardcore worrying mode, is really eager to locksmith some doors and preferably bash in some vampire brain. But van Hellstoker pulls out one of his way-too-long anecdotes to explain why they better do this as legally as possible. To protect Mina, he places a Communion wafer against her forehead and says a prayer - and the thing sears Mina's skin. Isn't that just awesome. Lotsa righteous, religious bullshit from van Hellstoker regarding Mina's purity (and the whiteness of her forehead; a Klingon would be offended), and I'm so sick of how he preaches all the time and they kiss his hands in reverence. Stoker, put your priestly power kink elsewhere.

On the other hand, Jonathan? Is belatedly earning more of my respect, because he's determined to follow Mina into the dark if she has to become a vampire.

Off the dude squad goes to sanctify Dracula's boxes of earth, holy ground deterring him and making all the pretty dirt boxes unusable (without his home's soil, Dracula will be forced to stay awake and in the open), one house, then the next with the help of a locksmith. Problem is, while this business goes as smoothly as can and they don't run into the Count, one of the boxes is missing. Also, if Jack is to be believed, Jonathan's hair turned white over night? Hair does not work that way, moron. While Quincey and Arthur are out being useful, van Hellstoker exposits about Dracula and, curiously, likens him to a child because not all of his memory of his glorious life made it past death. Ehm. No. This guy has no childlike behavior on him whatsoever. Jonathan wearily notes that he "fail[s] to understand", but then so do I when van Hellstoker starts out like that. Then Mina sends a wire that Dracula is onto them, and once the dude squad is reunited, van Hellstoker bosses everyone around (renewing the hots Jack has for him because he is submissive that way) to trap Dracula.

Then, big action scene. Dracula charges into the room, everyone charges at Dracula. But all he loses in the kerfuffle is some money because Jonathan slits his coat open. And as Dracula retreats from crucifixes and Communion wafers, he jumps through a closed window, a spectacular rain of glass splinters surrounding him as he hits the ground. What an exit. He kinda ruins it with turning around and yelling, "you all will regret this, I shall have my revenge", blah blah. Van Hellstoker takes the win and drops back into lacking grammar, but they can't catch the Count anymore and return to the asylum. Mina gets a recap of all that happened, as promised, and Jack is praising Mina with flowery words again, because Mina and also polyamory. They even all have a collective weep on the stress and fright of the situation. When the Harkers go to bed, Arthur, Quincey, and Jack share the night's watch between them. Van Hellstoker is too good for staying up, I guess.

#Dracula Daily #I will say this: Bram Stoker's and Stephenie Meyer's writings have more in common than is comfortable #lotsa misogyny and a lack of most basic research and no consistent characterization anywhere to be found

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tenkasato · 3 years

Text

I Don’t Hate You

Scenario: In which you and Levi come into terms of losing your child.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x reader

Warning: mentions of fetal death, cursing, mild violence

You were just released from the hospital.

Everyone solemnly rejoiced for your survival. It had been a close call after all. You had a short dinner with Hange and the kids. Smiling at them as they tried to narrate lighthearted anecdotes was easy for you. You were used to it after all. However, not the same could be said about your husband who remained stone-faced the entire time. His arm was secured around your waist possessively.

When you finally got home and went into your room alone, Levi Ackerman’s well-crafted mask finally fell off of his crestfallen face. He quietly sat beside you at the edge of the bed, your arms touching.

You leaned on him, nuzzling your head unto his shoulder with an umpteenth sigh leaving your lips.

"You can tell me anything," he told you softly, angling himself to you so that you were lying on his chest instead.

You caged his torso with your arms. "I don't have anything to say, really."

He nodded in understanding as he combed his fingers into your hair and proceeded on kneading your scalp as gently as he could. The room was filled with silence that was too deafening for his taste, but listening to your shallow breathing kept him calm even with the storm brewing inside his chest. He didn't know what to do about that squeezing sensation in his throat. It rendered him breathless.

Memories flashed. Voices echoed.

Levi closed his eyes.

It was the most excruciating, ear-splitting sound he has ever heard, the anguish ripping across your whole being as you pounded on his chest. You hit him harder.

You howled and screamed.

"Stop it," he begged.

"Fuck you," you sobbed. Your entire frame shook violently. "Fuck you! Why? I told you I'd be fine, right? I told you I'm strong enough to handle it, right? I told you! I told you!"

"I'm sorry," he choked. Your eyes that he loved so much reflected a veil of total, severe hatred and disgust directed towards him.

The way you looked at him... like he was someone who had hurt you—no, murdered you in the most torturous way possible.

"You're sorry?" you asked, venom all mingled intimately with each syllable that you spat. "But you chose this, right? You didn't listen to me, right? You coward!"

Levi pressed his lips together to keep himself from crying. He grabbed you by your shoulders before you broke away from his grasp, jabbing a finger straight to his racing heart.

"When did you ever listen, anyway?" you hissed, mercilessly hurling every bit of repulsion to him. “You never listen to anyone but yourself.”

"I hate you," you snarled. Your hands shot to the sides of your face as you shook your head repeatedly. "You killed my son. You killed my son. You killed me. You killed me."

If he really had the choice, he wouldn't have chosen between the life of his unborn child or his wife.

If he could, he would've chosen to kill himself.

If he could take away your pain, every single drop of it, he'd be willing to die over and over.

Levi took a feeble step towards you and enveloped you, pressing you unto him as hard as he could, just to piece you back together even if he knew it was futile. He held you for so long, fought against you silently.

"I hate you," you wept.

"It's okay," he spoke, managing to keep his voice calm, mellow and soothing. "I won't ever leave you."

"I hate you."

This hollow wound where his heart was supposed to be. What was he going to do about that?

Opening his eyes, Levi swallowed with difficulty before looking up at the ceiling. If he was feeling this awful, what were you feeling? Losing your second child… no mother deserved that.

"Levi," you coughed, cutting him off his thoughts as reality came crashing back to him. He didn't know whether to be thankful or not to be ripped off from those haunting memories.

"Hmm?"

"I don't hate you," you told him like you had read his mind.

He actually chuckled at that. "I know you don't."

"I really didn't mean any of the things I said before," you started to clarify. "I was just so upset and angry about it. But I know it wasn't your fault. I understand why you did that."

He stopped massaging your head and gently tugged on your hair so he could look down at your face. "We talked about this already."

"I know."

"Then, why?"

"Because even though you knew I didn't mean it, I still hurt you."

Not knowing what to say about that, he merely looked at you, drinking every detail of your profile until his gaze rested on the dark circles under your eyes. He could see all the physical manifestations of the suffering you’ve been through in your face. They weren't there before.

Levi leaned down and brushed his lips lightly on the skin under your eye. He planted another kiss in between your brows, and another two at the two corners of your mouth.

"You forgive me, right?" you asked in a dubious tone, closing your eyes as he trailed kisses down your neck.

He twisted around and pushed you unto the bed, his two hands supporting his weight over you. How delicate. How ironic it was that this fragility was his sole source of strength. The force that kept his feet on the ground even though his whole body felt so weightless, to be blown away into nothingness by the winds.

"I forgive you," he murmured. "I will always forgive you, no matter how many times you hurt me."

You chuckled and touched his face. "You really are the submissive type."

He shook his head at your boldness. "That's a blatant challenge."

Pressing your palms on both sides of his face, you stuck out your tongue playfully. Levi swooped down to your mouth but you so wisely retreated your tongue and smiled teasingly at him instead. You shook your head in playful mockery.

Levi’s eyes flared with unbridled desire, proceeding on attacking your neck rougher than he did earlier.

"Levi," you said abruptly, gathering locks of his hair in your hand.

"Hm?" he asked distractedly.

You bit on your lip briefly before pulling him down towards you.

"I'm heavy," he said in alarm as he felt his body pressed on you.

"S'okay," you answered and encircled your arms around his neck. "I feel cold. I like your body warmth.”

You lifted your head to press your lips onto his slightly opened mouth in a feathery kiss, warming his insides as he returned the fervor.

Your lips parted, then you uttered again, "Levi?"

"What is it?"

You smiled—tender, sweet and heart-crushing.

"Levi, I want you to know that it's okay to cry, too."

And that was when he broke, the tiny pieces of weak bandages that held him together burning away as he succumbed to the overwhelming grief that was dissolving all the pretense of fortitude he had.

The saddest of smiles pulled at the edges of your lips as you reached to wipe away the tears that had blurred his vision.

In the middle of this torrid rain, he had almost forgotten to grieve for himself, too.

But you saw him.

Just as you promised you would.

Yes, I know there are medical inaccuracies. Please forgive me for the sake of angsty drama.

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x y/n #snk #aot fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan

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goldentournesol · 3 years

Text

Not in That Way

*gif not mine, found on Giphy*

(Spencer Reid x fem!Reader)

The one where Spencer’s TA falls in love with him.

Length: 3.3k

A/N: VAGUE SPOILERS FOR S15 AHEAD! AGE GAP (10 years). Read at your own risk everybody, very angsty. NO PART TWO’S WILL BE WRITTEN. enjoy :)

masterlist

It wasn’t hard, really. It wasn’t hard at all to fall in love with Spencer Reid. In fact, it was the easiest thing she’d ever done. It came so easily that it shook her to the core.

Really, what’s not to love? He is a badass FBI agent with a heart of gold, he can literally recite almost any book to her on demand, and it certainly doesn’t hurt that he looks like he’s been sculpted by a coveted artist.

She didn’t know though, she didn’t know how easy it would be to be completely enamored by someone. She didn’t know what kind of life she’d be stepping into when she’d applied to become his Teaching Assistant. She’d heard from her peers that there was a part-time professor who had been looking for a TA. She signed up without a second thought, desperate for any kind of connections that could possibly help her with her PhD in forensic psychology. When she’d learned that he was a certified genius whose other job was to be a real life superhero, she hoped and prayed he’d pick her application.

She was over the moon when she found out that he did indeed pick her out of all the students who had applied. This was an opportunity of a lifetime. She’d seen his university ID photo on the website and thought he was attractive, but seeing him in person was almost magical. The camera definitely could not quite pick up on the subtle gold flecks in his irises or the silky sheen of his hair. And that smile. She was sure she could drown in it forever.

After being chosen and going through a number of interviews, Y/N learned just how meticulous Dr. Reid was in everything he did. She helped him create the syllabus as well as build his lesson plans. Over the semester, she would go over his grading since he had the tendency to give students the answers instead of making helpful comments on the papers to make them think and reflect. She’d also learned about his particular aversion to technology, which meant they had multiple meet-ups when he was in town just so she can walk him through certain systems, like the university’s portal system as well as the email. She also showed him how to pose his answers as questions instead, explaining that sometimes, he shouldn’t answer their incomplete thoughts because it's an undergrad class. Also, with his unpredictable schedule concerning the FBI, she would often step in and teach his class whenever he was away on a case.

They’d become good friends outside of his office and classroom, probably closer than they should have been. He was just too likeable and she was always eager enough to hear what he had to say, thus a bond between them was born and reinforced each time they saw each other. He was so thoughtful, it shocked her. Once he’d heard her mention that she used to love collecting keychains when she was a child, and made sure to get her a new one from each state he’d visit thanks to his trips around the country. Her previous boyfriends were beyond disappointing in comparison to say the least, and they weren’t even dating. He knew her favorite coffee order by heart and often had it ready with a fresh croissant whenever they met at the university’s coffee shop and if they were meeting at his office, he’d take them to go.

It was little things like that that made her fall in love with him. And she knew, it’s not like she didn’t, she just chose to hide it with every cell of her being. Crushing on your professor is pretty common amongst university students, but being a TA and being desperately in love with your professor was a whole different kind of story.

She already admired his intelligence in class immensely, however hearing his stories from his time out in the field made her heart grow three times the size of normal. His stories ranged from being about geographical profiling, to action-packed anecdotes, and even funny moments with the team.

Was she constantly impressed by him? Yes.

Was she constantly worried about him? Also yes.

Which is why she’d practically made him adopt the habit of texting or calling her every time he landed in DC. They’d been chasing this unsub, Lynch, for months on end and he’d informed her that they were finally close to getting him. The last time they talked two days ago, he was feeling confident. But then it was just silence. He hadn’t texted her, he hadn’t called her. She didn’t even know if he was back in DC. Her mind took her places she didn’t want to go. He’d gotten so good with keeping her updated that this silence was turning her blood into ice water.

She’d left 11 missed calls so far. But she didn’t give up, she was determined to hear from him. The next morning she tried again, holding her breath and squeezing her eyes shut in a silent prayer.

“Hello?” Someone finally picked up, a woman.

“Hello? Who is this? I’m trying to reach Spencer Reid.” Y/N said into the phone, voice clearly on the edge of tears.

“Oh you must be Y/N Y/L/N. You’re Spencer’s TA. I’m Penelope Garcia, I work with Spencer.” She said into the phone evenly, calmly.

“Yes, I am. Did something happen to Spencer? He hasn’t contacted me in two days. Why do you have his phone?” Y/N worried into the phone. She could hear every heartbeat, loud and clear.

“Spencer is in the hospital. There was an explosion yesterday and he hit his head really hard. We found him passed out in his apartment this morning.” Penelope answered. Y/N’s eyes widened and she felt the tears slip from her eyes quickly. The panic began to set in.

“C-could you please text me the address?” Y/N managed to whisper into the phone through her tears.

“Of course, sweetie. He’s going to be okay. His mother is here, I’m assuming you know about Diana?” She asked tenderly.

“Yes, yes, I know. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Y/N said, already rushing to put on shoes and looking for her keys.

The drive to the hospital wasn’t long, but Y/N felt like it took ages to get there anyway. Her breathing was uneven and her eyes were already swollen as if she’d been crying for days. There was a bad, bad feeling reverberating around in her chest. She’d somehow floated through the hospital like she was running on autopilot.

She’d found the room and met eyes with a blonde woman adorning two identical blue puffs in her hair. She would have thought they were adorable if she wasn’t panicking her heart out. She spotted Spencer laying on the hospital bed with oxygen tubes hanging around his ears and inserted into his nose. The sight made her stomach lurch. Something about the way his usually pink lips were drained of their color made her want to sob until tomorrow came. Beside the bed on the other side sat Diana Reid, a tall woman with short blonde hair. She’d seen her in photos before. Diana merely stared at her with a hint of a smile.

She stepped in the hospital room, swallowing down the bile in her throat, “H-Hi, I’m Y/N.” She waved tentatively into the room, almost unable to keep with the tensity of the two women’s gazes. She wiped at her eyes and stood at the foot of Spencer’s bed, “Is he going to be okay?” She asked, staring at the steady rise and fall of Spencer’s chest. That way it was reassuring to watch him. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she stood.

“The doctors are hopeful.” Penelope replied, assessing the young woman who just entered. She was much younger than she previously thought she was. Although she had no idea what to expect when it came to Spencer’s academic life, he was always surprising her.

Diana sat still and silent in the hospital chair, a pensive expression draped across her features. Penelope sensed a tension in the room and looked towards Diana, “Hey, Diana, would you like to come with me down to the cafeteria to fetch some jello for Spencer to eat when he wakes up?”

Y/N sent Penelope a sidelong glance filled with gratitude. She tuned out the sounds of Diana telling Penelope the story of the first time Spencer had jello as they exited the small room. She immediately pulled up the chair closest to his bed and grasped his hand tightly. She let out a shaky breath at the contact. Cold, his hand was so, so cold.

“Oh, Spencer, you scared the shit out of me.” She whispered, pressing her lips to the back of his hand quickly, “I could have lost you today...and-and I wouldn’t have known what to do with myself if that would have happened. I know you probably can’t hear me, but I still have to say what I’m going to say. I have to. For myself. So here goes,” she pauses, taking a deep breath, “there’s nothing that scares me more than losing you, and that thought alone terrifies me.” She sniffled, wiping away her tears, “What I feel for you terrifies me, Spencer. I didn’t know I was capable of loving someone so deeply until I met you. And...I don’t know what to do with all this love, I want to hand it all to you, let you see yourself the way I see you, but I can’t do that. I can’t.” She held back an incoming sob, whispering, “I can’t ask that of you.”

She bowed her head and rested it along his forearm, her silent tears soaking through the hospital sheets. The fear of grieving for him outweighed the fear of rejection. She’d never forgive herself if he died without knowing how big of a space he occupied in her heart. She didn’t know if she was brave enough to tell him to his face while he was awake, but this was a start. Solidifying her feelings was a start. And man, were they solid.

A few minutes later, her phone began to ring because of an endless stream of emails. There was a class today, and she’d have to teach it. She went back and forth from her phone to Spencer’s face and released a deep, heavy sigh from the pit of her chest. She stood from her seat and hovered her hand over his cheek before allowing it to rest timidly on his skin.

“I have to go, but I’ll see you soon.” She paused, chewing on her lip, “I love you.” She said softly, fresh tears making their way back to the brim of her eyes. She pulled away from him and exited the room swiftly.

Spencer’s bleary eyes opened slightly to just barely catch the sight of her disappearing into the hallway from which she came. Seconds later, Penelope and his mother came marching in, seeing his open eyes.

Penelope set down the cups of jello nearby and Diana made her way to her son quickly. He could barely keep his eyes open for long enough. It was a small achievement but they both held onto it dearly.

Hours later, he blinked his eyes open again as he heard his mother and Penelope conversing about his favorite type of cloud. Diana leaned over her son’s bed and set a comforting hand on his shoulder. He stared at her fondly.

“Am I alive or is this heaven?” He asked, smiling slightly.

“You are very much alive.” Diana smiled broadly at him.

Garcia had since gone back to the office to assist the team in finally closing the Lynch case. Spencer was just waking up from yet another snooze.

Diana looked at him closely, sometimes he felt she was the profiler in the room, “She told you didn’t she?”

Spencer rubbed at his eyes slightly, “Who are you talking about?” He yawned.

“The pretty girl who was in here earlier.” Y/N’s name had slipped her mind the second she said it. Spencer stared at his mother incredulously, shocked at just how clear her mind was at the moment. Diana took his silence as an affirmative and nodded at him.

“You should tell her.” She said definitively. For a moment, he doubted if he understood just what she meant, but he understood.

“How did you know?” Spencer asked curiously.

“I told you, a mother always knows. And I saw the way she looked at you. She deserves to know, Spencer.” Diana said.

She deserves to know.

The thought tumbled around in his head for days after he was discharged from the hospital. He was on medical leave for the moment but as soon as he could see straight, he took the train to her apartment. He’d been there a few times, they’d had a few casual dinners there while grading papers together or coming up with future lesson plans. His hands were on the verge of trembling as he knocked on her apartment door. The numbers nailed on the door mocked him as he stood waiting for her to open.

She frowned at the sound, she wasn’t expecting anybody. She pushed her laptop to the side and stood to straighten her pajamas, making her way to the door. She ripped it open as soon as she saw who it was.

“Spencer! Oh thank goodness you’re okay! I’ve been worried sick about you.” She threw her arms around his middle tightly, making him stagger a bit from the impact, but he enveloped her in his arms anyway. The contact was very welcome.

“Hey.” He smiled into the hug, his heart spilling with gratitude over being worthy enough of her attention. They separated from the embrace and she stared at him with a look resembling wonder.

“What are you doing here? I thought you still had a few more days off until you had to get back to work. Come in, come in.” She moved aside to let him in. She also moved a plethora of blankets and textbooks off the couch to make space for him to sit.

“I know, I’m sorry for kind of coming over unannounced. I didn’t mean to intrude or anything.” He eyed her matching set of cartoon character pajamas as he took a seat, making a mental note that it was the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. She blushed under his gaze but shook her head nonetheless.

“Oh come on, you know you’re always welcome here. Can I get you something to drink? Some water or coffee, maybe?” She asked.

“Water’s fine.” He smiled, leaning back into the couch. She nodded and made her way into the kitchen. Spencer’s shoulders untensed for a moment and he hadn’t realized that he’d been carrying so much of his worries in them around her. She came back with the water and took a seat next to him, angling her body to face him. He muttered a thank you as he sipped from it, unsure how to approach the situation.

“I wanted to thank you. For coming to the hospital to see me. That meant a lot.” He met her eyes and saw a flash of panic dance across her irises. How did he know she was there? Penelope probably told him, right? He couldn’t have heard her.

“Of course, Spencer. It’s the least I could do.” She smiled sweetly. His heart cleaved in his chest as he stared at the sweet girl in front of him.

What did he ever do to deserve her friendship?

He fidgeted with the glass in his hands, a silence beginning to drape over them.

“Is everything okay?” She asked, noticing his fidgeting.

He took a deep breath and set the glass down on the coffee table in front of them. He turned his body to face her and reached for her soft hands. Her breath hitched at the intimate contact, butterflies erupting in the pit of her abdomen.

“You are a remarkable person, Y/N. I’m so lucky to have you in my life. I see the absolute worst that humanity has to offer on a daily basis, but you have made it your mission to make my life easier. And you do, honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do without you.” He said with soft eyes and a half-laugh. She smiled back, she could practically feel the rush from his words directly in her brain.

“And it is an honor to be loved by you,” his voice hesitated to say the word, his eyes darkening with regret as he continued. Realization snapped into place for her as he said, “but I can’t give you what you need.”

He had heard her. He knew.

Her blood ran cold as she tore her hands away from his, as if the skin on his hands had the ability to burn her. He frowned as he watched her frantic eyes search his for any semblance of dishonesty. Her throat closed up over all the words that fought to surface. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came up. Instead, tears sprung to the corners of her eyes.

“What?” She whispered, brokenhearted and momentarily in disbelief.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He tried to console her but she was past the point of consolation.

“I-I understand.” She nodded painfully, tears cascading down her face before she even got the chance to wipe them away, “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s completely unprofessional.” She swallowed an incoming sob as best as she could.

“No, I’m glad you told me, but if I’m being honest, I knew long before it. This isn’t about professionality, I don’t care about that. But I care about you, a lot.” Spencer said softly, staring at the young woman in front of him. She shook her head, utterly devastated and doing her best to shield herself from his gaze. Thoughts escaped her as her heart took a deep-dive to settle in her abdomen.

“And I thought I should let you know how I feel. I love you, Y/N,” he paused, “just not in that way.” The soft voice he used was completely useless against the harshness of the words.

She tried, she tried her absolute hardest to suppress the incoming sob, but those words just about broke the dam. She rubbed at her eyes, nodding. He tried to set a comforting hand on her shoulder but decided against it. She took a deep breath and stood up from the couch.

That was enough humiliation for the day.

“No, no, I completely understand.” She said, voice wobbly and eyes ringed with red. He frowned up at her at the sight of her being so upset.

“Will you be okay?” He asked as he stood up from his seat. She laughed slightly, this man had devastated her, broken her heart with a few simple words and still wondered if she’d be okay. That’s Spencer Reid for you. The question made her heart ache and long for him more. His simplicity and good intentions made her question why the world wasn’t kind enough to let her have him.

“No, I won’t. And I probably won’t be okay for a long time. Because I will keep meeting men and keep comparing them to you so, until I stop doing that, no, I won’t be okay, Spencer.” She answered with a surprisingly stable voice. He frowned and nodded.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, stepping forward to cup her cheek and gently use his thumb to wipe the remainder of her tears. Her glassy eyes bored right into his, her lips wobbling at the contact. She then closed her eyes and leaned her cheek into his palm, soaking in his warmth one last time before he tore himself away from her completely and showed himself out of the apartment without looking back.

That was when she allowed herself to fall apart. He heard her heart wrenching cries from behind the door and hesitated, but decided to walk away anyway with a chest heavy with regret.

She will never be enough for him, she thought.

He will never be enough for her, he thought.

#im sorry #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid fic #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid masterlist #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #professor reid #spencer reid fluff #mgg

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mrs-march-ahs · 3 years

Text

Taking Care of Kai Anderson in Prison

I think this is kind of a weird idea, but I wanted to write it anyway!

Warnings- smut, manipulation, Daddy kink, Kai Anderson. Words- 3k

Summary- Blue hair and bearded Kai is put in prison, and it’s your job to shave his head and beard because, being a violent prisoner, he isn’t trusted with a razor. He plays mind games with you and finds out exactly what he wants to know, and uses it to his advantage.

----

You gather your necessary items and walk down the prison corridor, scanning your badge to open every double door on the way. You walk towards the door of the room you need to be in, and you look through the one-way mirror to look at the prisoner inside. Kai Anderson, the leader of a murderous cult, just went through all the paperwork and confessions needed to be locked away for the rest of his life. The guards inside hold him very firmly and get ready to sit him down. It’s a very high security room, multiple guards outside looking in, a secured metal chair with hand restraints on either side, and a locked door. You scan your badge to enter and he immediately looks at you but says nothing. This has been your job for multiple months and after years of training, being around dangerous men and convicted criminals wasn’t new to you. But something about his relaxed face, and his body looking so comfortable despite all the restraints, made you nervous. Your job so far at the prison is to take care of the vulnerable, but this man didn’t look it. You walk over to the table and lay down everything you’re holding: an electric shaver, shaving cream, knife and a towel, to try and take away as much of his identity as possible. He needed taking care of, and being in the high security wing, he wasn’t trusted with a razor. The guards finish tying his hands to the cuffs on the arm rests of the seat and look at you.

“Want us to do his feet too?”, one of the guards says, motioning to the similar cuffs at the feet of the chair.

Kai looks over at you calmly and raises his eyebrow, asking the same question.

“No don’t bother”, you pick up the towel and walk over to him. “What will he do? Trip me up?”.

This silly comment earns a slight smile from Kai and he looks at the guards. They point to the one-way mirror and walk outside, to remind you that they will be watching in case you need them. They leave and shut the heavy metal door behind them. You wrap the towel around Kai’s neck and slide your hands on his shoulders, smoothing it out before picking up the shaver and running your fingers through his greasy blue hair.

“I need to shave your head, is that okay?”, unsure whether he knew what he came in here for. He slowly nods once and continues looking ahead of him at the mirror. You take a breath and run the shaver through his thick hair, watching it fall on his shoulders and on the floor. After a few strips, the side of his head is all shaved and you look at him in the mirror. He turns his head slightly to get a better view, then looks straight forward again, completely unmoved by what you’re doing. The stillness in his face and the silence in the room unsettles you. You continue shaving him, shuffling around him, trying to be careful and thorough but also wanting this to end as soon as possible. He notices the effect he has on you and speaks up.

“When my sister was little and she had to get her first haircut, she sat and sobbed, she was so scared”, he begins telling you, looking himself dead in the eye. You glance at him in the mirror and nod to show you’re listening.

“So, I took some scissors and chopped some of my own hair off, to show her it wouldn’t hurt”.

You smile at his anecdote and look at him in the mirror, and he looks back at you. His eyes pierce through you and his serious expression doesn’t change. The stare makes you turn back to his head and shave the last few strips of head he has left.

“That’s sweet”, you say softly. “You’re a good big brother”.

You finish shaving him and rub your hand over his now bald head. He nods at your comment and tilts his head to the sides and looks at his new cut, with his face still as serious as before and eyebrows furrowed slightly. You watch him inspect his new look and mix up the shaving cream.

“They say that a girl’s relationship with her older brother is more important than the one with her dad”, you walk over to him, stirring the shaving cream and nod in agreement. You make eye contact in the mirror and you add, “I’m close with my brother, I can tell him anything”. Though you knew that anything you told the prisoners could be used against you, you couldn’t help but feel so awkward that you wanted to say anything to keep the conversation going, and not bring back the deafening silence. You lean down at his side and begin putting the shaving cream on his face.

“And your dad?”, he asks quietly. “What’s your relationship with him like?”.

A million thoughts go through your mind, debating whether to tell him anything. Although he had no right to know, it didn’t seem like a big deal to tell him a few things. As you contemplate your next move, you try to focus on the task at hand and why you’re here in the first place, but you’re interrupted when Kai turns his face to look at you. His deep black eyes look into your soul. It seems like he already knew everything there is to know about you, even though he just met you. You inhale nervously and turn your focus back on putting cream on his face.

“It’s good”, you say quietly, which prompts a single amused exhale from the criminal. You resist the temptation to question him and instead walk over to get the knife from the table.

“Why are you lying to me?”, he asks, smiling. You take the knife and squat next to him. You can’t help but give him a puzzled look and feel even more uncomfortable at him smiling than looking serious. You shave one strip up his neck and his jaw and wipe it on the towel around his shoulders.

“I was honest with you, why aren’t you being honest with me?”, he asks quietly but firmly, looking at you in the mirror, inspecting your body language. “You have Daddy issues, don’t you?”, he states, confidence dripping off every word and the question solely rhetorical.

“I said it’s good”, you reply defensively, trying to not give him satisfaction in knowing anything about you, especially without you telling him directly.

“Don’t worry, I know what it’s like to have a shit father”.

You turn his face to look at you while you carefully run the knife along his neck, curving at his Adam’s apple. You focus on looking at his lips and chin while shaving him, but you can feel the burning stare right into your focused eyes. Looking down at you, letting you shave around his lips, he stays silent but smirks slightly. After you wipe the blade, his mouth opens once again, and his words catch you off guard.

“You just want a Daddy to protect you, hm?”

His filthy and overly confident words surprise you into looking at him. A combination of his sly smirk and his black eyes staring at you make your insides burn. You feel your cheeks flush and try to look away from him, but you simply can’t. This time you could tell the question wasn’t rhetorical, but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer.

“You want Daddy to take care of you?”.

You stand up off the floor, not breaking eye contact, and breathe in a wobbly breath. You attempt to open your mouth, but you know no words will come out, so instead you clench your jaw, and remember who’s in charge. You blink hard and look away from him, taking the towel off from his shoulders and wipe his face clean, and then put it aside. When you return to your spot by his side, he glances over at your watch.

“We still have 7 minutes until o’clock, when I assume you have to go. Let me show you a trick”.

You look him up and down intrigued, completely restrained by his wrists and wonder what he could do. He bends his wrist upwards as much as the restrains will let him and sticks out his pinky finger. You squat in front of him and link your pinky with his, earning a smile from him.

“We’re linked now. If you lie, I’ll know.”

You nod slowly a few times and quickly look over your shoulder at the mirror behind you, feeling security at the fact that guards are watching you through the one view mirror. When you look back at Kai, he smirks at you softly and leans his head down, not breaking eye contact.

“Do you feel safer to know that they’re watching us?”, he asks, making you inhale nervously. Although it’s your fault for making it obvious, the prisoner isn’t meant to be he’s being watched. You take a deep breath and decide to test him.

“It’s just a mirror, I was looking at yo-”

“Weren’t you listening?”, he snaps, clearly aggravated by your lie. He clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath before repeating himself, even more condescending this time. His voice was barely raised but your heart immediately starts pounding faster. You felt so naked and vulnerable in front of this man that you wondered if he could see your heart beating right through your chest.

“If you lie, I’ll know”.

You furiously nod at him, not daring to take your eyes off him this time.

“What are you feeling right now?”.

You inhale sharply and take a big gulp before answering as honestly as you could.

“Terror”, you reply quietly. He exhales once in amusement, and continues to burn you with his stare, thinking of another thing to ask you. But before he has the chance to think of anything else, you decide to be brutally honest with him. Perhaps more than you should be.

“Can I be honest?”, you whisper at him, looking up at him with puppy eyes, trying to control your face to maintain as blank of an expression as you can. He nods once and waits patiently for you to continue. The second that question comes out of your mouth, your stomach fills with regret, knowing that you shouldn’t say anything more. Although every bone in your body knows that this is a bad idea, you can’t help but look at his strong veiny hands and melt inside.

“The worst part a-about you isn’t the terror”, you begin. His eyebrows come closer together in intrigue.

“It’s the arousal”. You can physically see his ego grow larger as he listens to your heart-felt confession and laughs breathily, letting your words loiter in the air for a few seconds before responding.

“I’m not sure I believe you”, he says, slightly shaking his head. “Prove it”. Your eyes widen and you blink slowly not sure what he means. The warmth coming from his strong hand spreads through your body and lingers on your thighs and your heat.

“I’m not sure what you mean”. He listens to you and sighs. After a few seconds, he explains.

“Girls think they’re always so sneaky, they think all guys think about is sex, when in reality, we both know girls think about it even more”. You gulp and try to take your eyes off his, but feel like they’re glued onto him.

“When you sit on a man’s lap, he can feel the warmth coming from between your legs. But if you’re aroused, you can feel you pulsating”. You quiver your lips at his dirty words and fail to understand the simple instruction he is giving you.

“What does that mean? I mean- what do you want me to do?”. He leans closer to you, and with every approaching inch your legs almost give up. You wobble slightly when his face comes so close to yours that you can feel his breath.

“Sit on Daddy’s lap, and let him feel you throb”. The second the pet name leaves his lips, butterflies fill your tummy. Your pussy gushes out wetness at his quiet, almost secretive, tone of voice, and demands to be touched more than ever before.

For the first time in minutes, but what felt like hours, you manage to take your gaze off his hypnotizing eyes and flicker down at his lips. He was so close, if you wanted to, you could kiss him. Because of your multiple seconds of delay, he cockily reiterates, whispering to you, his lips inching even closer to yours.

“Unless of course, you’re not aroused, and you’re lying, again”. He says, emphasising the again. He of course could tell that you were not lying, but enjoyed toying with you. Although he only met you minutes ago, he knew exactly what buttons to push.

Very slowly, you nod your head and looks at his pinky holding yours. Without breaking eye contact, he straightens out his pinky to let you go and sits up proudly, trying to scoot as far forward off the chair as possible, due to his wrist restraints.

You stand up, silently begging your knees not to give up, and gulp, before straddling one of his knees. He watches you closely as you hesitantly creep your hands to hold onto his shoulders, before pulling them away. He whispers discreet words of encouragement, “Hold onto Daddy”, making you lay your hands gently on his strong shoulders, and your pussy flutter at the name again. He hums in approval at the pulsating heart beat he feels on his knee from your throbbing heat. Without being told to, or rather, given permission to, you try to gently brush your pussy against him harder, hoping to get some release. The second Kai notices and feels your wetness through all the layers of fabric between you, he decides to help you, and suddenly bounce his leg. The unexpected movement against you makes you gasp slightly, and hold onto his broad shoulders. The sheer fact that such minimal touch earned such a strong reaction from you makes Kai smirk, and start bouncing his leg rhythmically. Every time you jump slightly at fall back against his knee, you end up griding across it, making friction against your clit. The pressing and kneading against your sensitive spot makes you bite your lip as all the arousal from your entire body goes straight between your legs. The shakiness in your knees and the tingle in your thighs runs towards your heat, making you practically drip on him. With a particularly hard bounce, you can’t help but gasp and hold onto his shoulders harder, closing your eyes in pleasure and looking down, too ashamed of how good he makes you feel. The overwhelming feeling forces a moan out of your lips, making Kai smirk. He watches you bite your lip and refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing how good he’s making you feel, and feels threatened.

“Keep your eyes on Daddy”, he says, making you open your eyes instantly, and adding enough of a sensual touch to your pussy that you are almost brought over the edge. When you look at him, his black eyes lock you in and you have no trouble maintaining eye contact, despite slowly approaching your orgasm. Embarrassment flushes your cheek as Kai watches you, about to come undone from such a soft movement on his part, and having not masturbated in a while nor had sex, you were too stressed and focused on your job to take care of yourself. Maybe he was right, you needed a Daddy to do it for you. You grab onto his broad shoulders and completely let go, not grinding on him anymore, just letting him make you cum. Just as you hit your peak, Kai looks over at your hand on his shoulder, and without warning, he puts his bouncing to a halt and looks at you with a cheeky smirk.

“I think I have to go to my cell now”, he says with a cocky expression. You breathe heavily and look at him with pleading eyes, denied your finish. The realisation of what you just did hits you and you open your mouth slightly. As you slowly get off him, he continues looking at you clearly proud of himself. You stand in front of him for a few seconds before slowly walking to the door, and unlocking it, hoping your heart slows down before it jumps out of your throat. Or drops from between your legs. The smirk on Kai’s face widens when you look back at him, and then look at all the things on the table, deciding to leave it all there. You take a deep breath and smile at Kai, before putting your hand on the door handle, and whispering to him.

“Bye, Daddy”.

He smiles and nods at you and you step out of the door and shut it behind you, trying to regain control over your body after he made you feel like jelly. When you look over at the security guards standing in front of the one-way mirror, embarrassment burns you from the inside, and you flush completely red, having forgotten that you were watched the whole time. They look at you awkwardly and one of them puts his hand in his pocket, making your eyes glance at the bulge he’s trying to hide. The eye contact between the three of you silently agrees to never speak of this, and you walk away, trying to hide the smile covering your face.

You’re left to wonder how a man so restrained can have you completely wrapped around his finger. Later than day when you go back home, the second the front door shuts behind you, memories of Kai fling back to your mind, making you shiver. That night, when you lay in bed with your hand down your pants, all you can think about is your new Daddy.

#ahs #american horror story #ahs cult #american horror story cult #kai anderson #kai anderson smut #kai anderson x #kai anderson x reader #evan peters character #evan peters characters #ahs smut

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petite-ely · 3 years

Text

Afraid // JJ Maybank

Seven- Mommy Issues

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem routledge! reader

Warnings: mommy issues, mother abandonment, anger, maybe some mistakes, tell me if I missed anything

Description: y/n has always wanted answers about her mother, but the truth seems more harsh than what she had in mind.

A/n : hello, hello friends. Sorry for not updating sooner. I had absolutely no inspiration, lol. Anyways, hope you enjoyyyy! :) (also I know the gif is terrible quality but I really wanted to put this clip and I couldn’t find any cleaner option to make a gif)

Previously

Afraid Masterlist

Song recommendation

Gif made by me!

As a child, y/n never realized how her family was different than the others. A lot of kids on the cut had single parents, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Her mom had left when she was only three, to go pursue her dream job in Colorado. It wasn’t a bad thing in the girl’s eyes. It didn’t feel like she was missing out on anything.

As she blossomed into adolescence, y/n finally understood how unconventional her family was. She heard the other girls at her school talk about their mothers. About the cakes they made or the precious moments they spent together. Mother-daughter bonding moments. She had to admit it she felt jealous. Or maybe was it envious?

She had lived all her life without a mother to kiss her scraped knees or braid her hair before going to sleep. And she would have given anything to experience it, even for one single night.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love her brother or her father, far from it, she adored them. They were both so precious to her. Still, she felt as if something was missing from her. Or more like someone.

She didn’t remember her mother, she was so young at the time, but she cherished the stories her father had told her. She fed her imagination on these stories. Making up fake memories where her mother was still there. In her heart it was all real. Reality was bitter compared to the sweet comfort of her imagination.

By the time she was 12, she’d heard the famous story enough to know it by heart, each word of the letter engraved into her head. She begged her father again and again. She wanted more stories, even the smallest anecdotes, she wanted to hear them all. Anything to improve the sketch, constantly redrawn, of the woman she didn’t remember. The woman she couldn’t really call a mother.

She knew the story by heart and yet it felt incomplete. She’d heard enough fairytales and read enough books to know when a story was complete. This one wasn’t.

And she was right.

A week after the twins’s 13th birthday, their dad gathered them around the kitchen table. He wanted to talk. It was very important. Y/n had to admit, this was quite strange, as her father was never the one to bring up important issues. In front of him was placed an envelope, yellowed with the years.

The girl knew this envelope all too well. Every scratch, every little bump, she could almost feel them on the tip of her fingers. It was her mother’s letter. This time, when he pulled out the folded pages, a third paper came out. The missing part.

Big John didn’t say anything, only slid the pearl white sheet to the twins. And though no words came out of his mouth, a million could be seen in his gaze. He wore an unfamiliar expression on his face. It was mix of sadness, fear and regrets. It was the expression of a man who only wanted to protect his children from being hurt.

The missing paper read as so:

“This is my dream, John.

And I know you might think there’s a way for us to fix this, but there isn’t. This time you can’t fix it.

When I got pregnant with the kids, I was so scared. And when I told you, I saw this glimmer in your eyes. This flame suddenly being lit inside of you. You were so excited to have your first child and it was twins! You seemed so happy. It was beautiful.

Then I thought that maybe we could do this, maybe I could be a mother. I had you, so everything would be fine. My friends kept talking about this amazing connection that felt with their babies when they were carrying them. But I never felt it with the twins.

And I thought that maybe once I held them in my arms I would finally feel it. That motherly connection. It never came. And I tried, John. I tried so hard. But I just can’t.

I do love them, I love them so much, but not the way you do. Not the way a parent loves their child It can’t do it, I’m sorry. I wasn’t meant to be a mother. Life is cruel that way sometimes.

If there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that you were meant for this. I can see it in the way you look at them. You can do this, John. I know.

Be the parent I will never be able to be.”

Y/n’s curious eyes scanned the paper excitedly. Her face showed a variety of emotions in the span of a few minutes. First, excitement and joy, then, confusion and finally, anger. The tip of her ears burned red, her hand shaking beneath the table.

John B. placed the paper on the table, a loud sigh escaping his lips. Though, compared to his sister, he seemed relatively calm.

Y/n couldn’t contain it anymore. She stormed out of the house, her feet shoeless and her shoulders bare. She had no idea where she was going, but she ran.

It didn’t matter. As long as she was going somewhere. As long as she was moving and running, then she wouldn’t have to think. And if she was thinking, then her mind would take her to a bad place. She didn’t want to go there. So she ran.

The Routledges were never reputed to be angry people, much less violent. They were generally very calm, maybe a bit arrogant, but always composed. Of course, when a Routledge was after something, they would do anything in order to obtain it.

But y/n was one of the exception. She was the first Routledge woman in nearly 150 years. For generations, every Routledge man had sons, who had sons, who had sons until her father. He had a son and a daughter.

She wasn’t an angry person or mean in any way. On the contrary, she was kind and gentle. But compared to her brother and her dad, she felt emotions deeply.

And maybe it was her mother’s side and not the Routledge in her. It was so intense, sometimes. Almost blinding, at some moments. It was like the emotions took over her. It didn’t happen very often but it felt like she didn’t control her body anymore.

When she finally came back to her senses, y/n was standing on an empty beach. She hadn’t realized how far she’d gotten until she felt the warm sand under her feet. A cold breeze wrapped itself around her shoulders. She was so far from home. And so alone.

She walked to the ocean, letting her toes dip gently into the water. The water was cold but calming. Her anger slowly disappeared with each breath she took, until finally she could see everything clearly again.

Y/n turned away. She thought of going back home, when a wave of emotions hit her. She fell to the ground. It was like the air had been sucked out of her lungs.

Her chest burned, she felt like she had swallowed fire. Her shoulders shook and loud sobs escaped her lips. She dug her hands into the sand, trying to ground herself. It didn’t stop her tears from crashing onto her shirt.

A shadow appeared in front of her and she recognized its shape in a matter of seconds. It could only be one person.

“Are you hear to laugh at me?” She said through tears.

“No, not this time,” said John B. He sat down beside her, his eyes looking into hers. “Oh, y/n.” He wiped the tears off of her face

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “It’s just that, that,” he placed his arm around her shoulder, she took a deep breath. “Part of me always thought that she would come back.”

“That she’d come stay with us and finally be our mom. But she’s never coming back, ever,” her tone was almost accusing. “I lost so much time making up scenarios for her and she doesn’t even love us.”

“You know that’s not true,” reasoned John.

“Yeah, but it feels like it.”

“We don’t need her anyway,” stated the boy. “We’ve got dad, surfing, plenty of fish and well, each other. It’s not that bad is it?”

“No, you’re right.” She looked at him. “I just feel like I’m missing out on something. Like I’m,” she paused, looking for the right word, “incomplete.”

“I get it. If the roles were reversed and dad wasn’t there, I guess I would feel that way too,” confided her brother. “But don’t give her this much power. She doesn’t get to make you feel this way. You’re whole on your own, y/n/n.”

“Thank you, bird.” She slid her arm around his shoulder, letting her head rest on top of it. “You know, you can be an amazing brother sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“Hey, bird?” “Yeah?”

“How did you find me, anyway?”

“You always come here when you wanna be dramatic.”

“I do not!”

“You so do!”

And slowly, the imaginary memories fell apart and disappeared. Y/n didn’t need them anymore. She’d be better in the real world.

Taglist

@kaelyn-lobrutto24 @poguestyle17 @im-a-stranger-thing @lasnaro @thoughtsofthestars @briandaflores19 @lunaposey @allycat449-blog @ifilwtmfc @kitty084 @coloradogirl07 @ponyboys-sunsets @chaoticbisous @p0gue420 @sloaneemily @babygal-babygal @itsagurl @mendesmaybank

If you wanna be added or removed or if I forgot you, tell me and it’ll be modified!

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blush-and-books · 3 years

Text

always you-shaped thoughts inside my head

so, we found wonderland, the amazing fanfic by @pink-flame ended this week. as a result of my deep and sorrowful mourning, i wrote a fanfic for a fucking fanfic. yes, everyone, we have reached that point. so if you’re one of the unfortunate souls who hasn’t read it then you can start here and do not read this if you don’t want spoilers babes!!!!

anyways, i don’t want to talk about how much i cried when i wrote this. moving on. title from find u again by mark ronson ft. camila cabello and once again THANK YOU @pink-flame FOR THIS WORK, I LOVED IT, I LOVE YOU, ENJOY

A/N: the first part of this is a reimagining of a scene from the story, and the second part is more of a deleted scene. grab tissues if you’re one who cries easily. also tagging @bluefirewrites because i kept texting you while writing this

Julie doesn’t know in what timeline she thought that going to the bookstore would be a good idea.

Even with her back flat against the wall and Luke’s book clutched identically between her hands and the palms of every other eager fan in the room, she felt like she was too close. Like this was a mistake.

She was the one who insisted they don’t look for each other.

But here they were. Him, with a poem that crossed time with the silent, lost plea for her to come back to him; her, who chose to answer the call even if she knew she shouldn’t have. Julie should have realized that she couldn’t avoid him forever. Their paths were meant to cross in every universe.

When he takes the stage, she doesn’t shatter. Yet.

People are swamped beside her and Flynn on all sides, and she still feels like it’s just the two of them. Once he’s in her line of sight, it’s only him in the room, only him that exists.

In a world where she’s jumped to and from across time, Luke may be the most real thing she’s ever known.

The words he says as he reads and answers questions hit her ears as just a series of tones and syllables that are achingly familiar. He’s laughing through one of the book’s anecdotes and suddenly she’s back in the arcade, laughing with him at the pinball machine. He’s talking about the rush of playing their first sold-out show, and she’s back in the greenroom as he heatedly kisses her up against a wall after she spent so much time fighting for him to love her again.

He’s reading about his parents, and she’s back on that pull-out couch that was only comfy when he was in it; listening to him whisper about their fragmented relationship.

But then a 20-year-old pokes him about the poem. And he says he loves her -- well, not explicitly, but he says it’s about love -- and the other shoe drops.

Tears inundate her eyes.

“I have to go,” her voice shakes as a sob threatens to rip through her words. Flynn offers to join, but Julie needs fresh air and to be alone and to just let her tears fall onto the asphalt of an alleyway without feeling the need to explain herself. She will always be alone in these emotions, in this heartbreak, and that’s okay -- she just doesn’t want anyone to act like they get it.

So she passes her book to Flynn, urges her to get it signed, and flees out the side door.

Right before she’s out, the 20-year-old presses on about Find Me: “Well, what if they came to you now? What if they found you? Wouldn’t you be happy to see them?”

The exit slams shut behind her and she doesn’t get to hear his answer.

“Well, what if they came to you now? What if they found you? Wouldn’t you be happy to see them?”

Flynn watches intently as Luke’s eyes darken. The book feels heavy in her hands, and she feels like she is suddenly intruding on an intimate moment between Luke and Julie -- even with Julie gone.

She didn’t always understand what happened with her best friend. But this was clearly a mind, body and soul situation.

Luke has to clear his throat and blink rapidly before answering. “God, sorry, that one caught me a little!” The audience chuckles. “No one’s asked me that so far on this tour. That’s a good question. I probably think about it more than I should, but… I mean, first of all, they wouldn’t come and find me. I know them well enough to know that Find Me just… Went out into the universe with no expectation of a response. But if they decided too, I… I’d wanna make sure they were happy. And I’d probably thank them one more time for everything they did when I was younger. I would probably be in shock, honestly. I haven’t seen them in a long time.”

Flynn is wiping her nose with a stray tissue from her purse before she can even register that she’s started crying.

The random people in the back row with her send her strange looks, wondering why she’s getting so emotional, but hearing Luke talk about her best friend like that…

“Do you still love them?”

God, this person won’t give him a break!

The rockstar visibly tenses up, and the easy grin plastered on his face breaks. That’s when his manager hustles onstage and announces that they are going to start the signing; and everyone needs to start lining up.

Flynn has to fight to get farther up in line, but it’s worth it when she reaches him.

“Hi,” he smiles, “who should I make it out to?”

The word makes her tongue feel like lead. “Julie.”

His head snaps up, and he’s fully looking at her for the first time. There are a thousand Julie’s in the world, but he knows it’s his.

“I’m her best friend,” Flynn continues, shifting her teary eyes down to her converse because fuck Julie wasn’t kidding when she said his eyes were intense sometimes.

“Flynn.”

“Oh... She told you-”

“Where is she? Is she here?”

She’s not even looking at him, but he sounds so desperate, and the water in her eyes swells as she glances at the exit off to her side. “Not right now. But she wanted me to get this signed for her.”

Luke’s Sharpie doesn’t move across the inside cover. In fact, he’s frozen; staring off in the distance with what Flynn is sure must be a whirlwind of emotion that he didn’t ask for. Flynn isn’t sure how to handle it -- they’re in public, and she’s minorly concerned she just sent him spiraling, and they don’t even know each other -- but she feels the need to relay a message since he’ll never get to hear it from Julie himself.

“She…” Luke looks back up at her; eyes boring into hers in a way that could tug the truth out of anybody. As she blinks, an enthusiastic tear drops onto her cheek, and she instantly lifts her index finger under her eye to catch anything else. “Fuck, my eyeliner. Sorry. Anyways-”

The words get caught in her throat again, so she has to take another deep breath. Helping star-crossed lovers communicate when they are almost thirty years apart is more emotionally taxing than she anticipated.

“She’s really proud of you,” Flynn finally manages with a voice squeakier and higher than she ever wants to hear it again. Another tear falls from her other eye. “She loves y- your music, and hopes that you have everything you wanted and she’s so proud of you for everything you’ve built.”

At this point, the crumpled tissue in her hand has been helping her dry her eyes because standing in front of Luke Patterson and trying to tell him that the love of his life still cares -- still watches from afar, still wants the world for him -- is making her realize the emotional turmoil that Julie must have been feeling all this time.

How did she do it?

In front of her, Luke is rubbing his hands over his face and audibly takes a deep, sniffly breath in. Turning to the same woman who got onstage to transition the event before, he informs her: “I need to get some air.”

“Luke, where are you-”

But he’s already forcefully pushing himself back in his chair, grasping the book off of the signing table, and darting out the same exit that Julie stormed through ten minutes ago.

When the manager turns to look at Flynn -- she bolts away and towards the front entrance. If Julie and Luke are about to meet in that alleyway, she doesn’t want to intrude. Even if she already fucked up both of their plans to never see each other again.

Julie is still hyperventilating and sobbing in the alleyway when the emergency exit loudly flings open against the wall of the bookstore. Her arms are wrapped tightly around herself with a childish prayer to have Teddy Luke in her arms, because at least then there would be a little piece of him to stay with her when the rest of him is gone.

She’s expecting Flynn, or an employee on their smoke break, but not-

“Luke.”

“Julie.”

A whimper leaves her lips at hearing him say her name for the first time in so long. His own eyes are glassy, and even though he’s so much older his eyes are still the same. He’s still her Luke, and that’s such a dangerous idea to touch in this timeline but she can’t let it go.

“I’m so sorry,” she wails, trying to avoid looking at his heartbroken expression for too long. “I know, I said we can’t do this, I just-”

“Julie.”

“Did you want me to find you?”

Air puffs from his mouth in a harsh sigh as he takes a few steps closer to her; incredulously focused on the fact that she’s there, in front of him, real. “I- Of course, of course I did, Julie. I just didn’t think you’d come. But I wanted you to know I was looking.”

Her eyelids fall shut. More tears are pushed out, and she doesn’t know if she’s crying or laughing because of course Luke would look even when she told him not to. He respected her, and he respected her wishes, but he could never help himself from pushing the boundaries.

Achingly, she’s always been so grateful for that trait in him.

But now the two of them are awkwardly standing only a few feet away, and the urge to just feel him, assure that he’s solid in front of her is becoming all too real.

Gravel rolls under the soles of her shoes. “I loved the book,” she confesses. “All of the stories. I mean, I’m sorry about the- About your splits-”

“I shouldn’t have even tried with them-”

“But everything else, just…”

How does she say it?

“When- Back when, in the other timeline, and you guys were ghosts… Those stories were the kind of thing you had always wanted. You were so determined to get it, and-” She sniffles. “I’m so glad you got it.”

His lips turn downward. It’s a flash of the familiarly frustrated Luke who is trying to make a tough decision, but in this case, she doesn’t know what that decision is. All she sees is the wince at her saying it was what he wanted, and how happy she was that he got it, and-

A conceited part of her contemplates if he’s about to correct her, tell her that life hasn’t been great, say that he would have rather had it differently; but he doesn’t want her to think her sacrifice was for nothing.

Oh, God, please say he’s happy. She doesn’t think she could handle anything less.

“It’s thanks to you,” he responds instead, gulping down any more that threatens to come up. “You saved me.” Beat. “Are- Are you happy? Is everything in this timeline okay?”

Well, in her head, not exactly. Of course she still had her dad and brother and Flynn, but Sunset Curve never stayed together, she erased Carrie’s entire existence, and everything felt just a little tilted on its axis. Julie felt like a stranger in a world of her own creation.

She yearned for the days back in Wonderland where everyone belonged. They were a little scarred and a little broken, but they were home. Her house from the original 2020 timeline was her home. Luke was her home, and he was right in front of her; the only security blanket she has right now.

Once again, she finds herself bursting into tears and wanting so badly to reach out to him, to give him a hug and tell him she wishes that she stayed in bed in Wonderland with him forever. She wants to jump back down the black hole and go back to 1995 when things made more sense than they did now and Luke could be hers again; and not a distant love that could never materialize in the present.

Julie, miraculously, holds herself back. But watching Luke’s hands flinch at the sight of her crying doesn’t make things easier.

“Please don’t cry.” His voice is a whisper but the words hit with a force that almost buckles her knees. “Julie, please, take a deep breath.”

She takes in a breath that makes her lungs expand into her ribs. “I’m happy,” she lies through her teeth as she breathes out slowly. “I’m happy. We’re happy.”

“Good.”

Tears are running down his face. She recalls a time where it was easy for her to hold his face and swipe under his eyes with her thumbs until there were no more tears for her to kiss away.

In unison, they clear their throats and shift their eyes. The air changes; they know they’re in a public place again, and Luke is an adult musician, and he’s with a fan. He holds his hand up, the one that has the book, and shakes it a little back and forth.

“Flynn said you wanted this signed?”

A watery smile blooms on her face in spite of the bitter moment. “Yeah,” she nods. “Thought it could be another memento.”

To put emphasis on the idea, she lifts up onto her tiptoes and tilts her voice up. Make it a more positive moment. Don’t dwell. Stop crying.

You can’t change things now.

Luke pops the cap off with his teeth, and toys around with it in his mouth like it’s one of his marked-up guitar picks as he holds the book open and scribbles something (probably illegible) on the inside of the front cover.

Then, once he’s done there, he starts flipping the pages around like he knows where every detail of the story is and marks up certain pages with… Something. She doesn’t know. After he’s made his wanted notes, he writes something out on the last page before firmly shutting it and returning it to her possession.

“Thank you,” she smiles simply as she pulls the book from his hands and carefully assures that their hands don’t overlap. If she touches him, she falls apart.

Luke hums in response.

Stupidly, Julie decides that moment to open up the book and see what he wrote while he’s standing right in front of her. But she isn’t thinking about him, or looking at him -- she’s looking at the inside cover.

We were always meant to find each other. Don’t forget that - please.

Yours,

Luke

When a tear drops on the page, she quickly turns farther into the book because she doesn’t want her feelings to ruin his beautiful, even if messy, words. These words are all she’ll have after today.

The few pages in the book that he made notes on were just little things that she never knew she needed to hear.

The chapter about his first sold out stadium show? Thought of you the whole time

When he heard he was nominated for a Grammy? Wanted to call you first

The night he won his first Grammy? Almost thanked you in my speech

The last page he wrote on was the Acknowledgements page. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t that long. Luke kept a core circle of people and that was that. But below that short list, in bold, black letters:

To Julie Molina, who sacrificed everything so that I could be able to tell these stories. I wish she could have been a part of them.

Her tears slip from her face so clear and quickly that she’s surprised her tear ducts are generating such a mass amount. The words replay in her head, in Luke’s voice, over and over. The affirmation that he wanted her with him all this time.

But she had to go again. This had to be a one-time thing. This hurt too much for her to put either of them through it again, and besides -- now she had closure in his own writing; with her tears notarizing each word.

“It’s time, Julie,” she mutters to herself. “It’s time.”

To say goodbye. Again.

But Luke never answers. It’s dead silent, even though cars should be racing on the road behind them. When she looks up, Luke is frozen to the spot. Everything is, except her.

“Time is a funny thing isn’t it? Just when you think you have a handle on it, it manages to surprise you.”

It’s Willie, but not actually Willie. The one who was giving her the clues and trying to lead her in directions all over 1995; the one who she hasn’t seen in a really, really long time. For a moment, she doesn’t believe it.

But he tells her that fate is in her hands. This is her choice. And despite the doubt that lingers uneasily in her chest, she can’t help but be desperate for this to be real.

“Why not you? Who better than Julie Molina? Teenage girl with a good heart and music in her soul. Braver than most. Why not you?”

Julie jumped across time to save her boys, and now she is willing to make the trip again if it means there’s a chance of saving them all.

But there’s one more thing she wants to do. Just before everything either is perfect again or goes to complete shit.

Spinning away from Willie, she takes a second glance at Luke’s still frame and softens her face into a smile. He had been looking down at her while she was reading his notes with tears in his eyes and a sad grin on his face.

No one is looking or judging anymore -- so she stands on her toes and throws her arms around his neck, squeezing him close even if he can’t hug her back. She’s been dying to do this since she saw him in the bookstore.

And it feels like coming home.

“I’ll find you again,” she whispers into his ear that probably isn’t listening. “I promise.”

And without any more hesitation, she turns back to Willie with her chin up and shoulders back.

“What do I have to do?”

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

The book never finds its way back to her the way that the bear does or the way that the ring does.

But that’s okay, because the bookstore does, and she’s with Luke when she registers that they are walking by the bookstore on their way to meet everyone at one of their favorite diners.

By now, Luke had been told everything. She felt herself starting to fall in love with this third Luke just as she had all the others, but could never tell if he was falling back in love with her. Julie found herself -- while this timeline was infinitely better than the old one -- pining for Luke to come back to her and love her like he did in two other lifetimes.

Their hands were brushing each other’s on the sidewalk when the bookstore sign met her eyes.

“Jules?”

Her feet are glued to the cement; her eyes are glued to the alleyway. Luke approaches behind her and lays a hesitant hand on her shoulder.

“Jules, are you- Is everything okay?”

“Can we take a detour, really quick?”

And suddenly, he’s letting her lace her fingers through his and pull him through traffic -- no crosswalk in sight -- across the street to stand in front of a bookstore that has zero meaning to him whatsoever. Julie selfishly revels in his calluses rubbing her knuckles and doesn’t make a move to let go unless he will.

He doesn’t. At least, until they hit the alleyway.

“Julie, what is this place? Why are we out here? Is this… Did I like it here, or something?”

They never spoke much about the Luke’s of other timelines. Julie quickly caught onto the fact that he got uncomfortable when she talked about guys with his name and face that he knew virtually nothing about even though he felt pressured to know everything.

But he dealt with her when she had moments like these. She never thanked him properly for it.

“It wasn’t like that,” she shakes her head, “we were here in the other 2020. The one where you were older, and this huge Grammy-winning solo musician. The one that was a result of what I did in 1995.”

The exit door is still rusty on the hinges. The brick is the same shade of red, and-

“Okay… And? What did you guys do?”

His use of third person is a clear message. “Him and I had made this promise in ‘95 that we wouldn't find each other, right?” “Because he would be old.”

“Yeah. But he published this book and had a whole signing tour called Find Me, and Flynn told me we should go, and… Basically, I had a mental breakdown at seeing him, and then he came back here and signed the book for me, and we talked, and-”

Her voice cracks. Her eyes feel wet.

Fuck.

Can’t she make it one timeline without sobbing in an alleyway?

A familiar hand rubs up and down her back as she stares, firmly, at the spot where her and Luke were so vividly standing and talking and pining for the other.

“Jules, hey, look at me.”

Because it’s Luke -- because it’s her Luke -- she listens to him, and rotates to face him. The soft fabric of his shirt hits her cheeks as he presses his fingers into the cotton and lifts his hand to wipe the tears from her face in a gesture that tempts her to cry more. Instead, she tries to laugh it off. “God, I really need to stop having meltdowns in alleyways, huh?” He stays quiet; looking at her in a recognizable Luke way that reminds her of all of their loving times in other lives. But she can’t get her hopes up. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like when I talk about it. Sometimes I just-”

“You need to,” he nods. “I get it.”

Her feet are planted identically where they were in alternate-2020. But Luke is in a different spot, because this is a new Luke. One that’s right in front of her, lightly holding her arms; not one that’s a few feet out of reach.

“He told me that we would always find each other.” Her voice is watered down, and quiet, but Luke is close enough to hear it.

“Well, he was right, wasn’t he? We did it. For like, the fourth time, according to you.”

And then, she’s hit with a Luke Patterson smile. She sees it all of the time now but it never gets old because he’s young, and he’s happy, and he’s here.

Her lips turn up to reflect it, and in a shocking turn of events: Luke instigates the hug.

They are nearly best friends, so they’ve hugged before. But this one is different.

His arms fold around her shoulders and tug her close and snug into his chest so that his chin is nearly resting on her hair. This leaves her able to press him close to her with her arms wrapped tightly and lovingly around his waist -- almost, dare she say it, like he was a teddy bear.

“I never said I’m sorry,” he murmurs into her forehead. “Or thank you, for that matter.” “For what?” “I’m sorry you went through so much for me. For us. It still affects you a lot and I’m sorry you have to carry that alone.” His chest rises and falls under her cheek as he takes a deep breath, and she doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of feeling him breathe or hearing his heartbeat. “And thank you for loving us enough to do it. You sacrificed a lot.”

She is too choked up to verbally comment -- but she squeezes him tighter, almost tempting her arms to swish through him.

They don’t.

And Luke continues talking after a moment of a peaceful silence. “It’s kind of cool, though, for me to think about this person I have in the universe. You know? The whole thing with us finding each other. I always have you, no matter where I am. You’ll be out there.”

“Always,” she sighs into his chest, because she can’t help it. It took them a few tries, but here they are: In the same timeline, with full family and friends and lives, in a reciprocated hug.

“Always.” Luke repeats the word, almost feeling it out in his mouth. “Well, thanks for doing it again. Maybe let me do the work next time. You need a break.”

God, this Luke is always so good at making her laugh. Ghost-Luke was, too, but the other Luke’s and her were always swept up in emotionally-taxing situations for her to be laughing like she could when she was with this Luke.

It was almost as if this one had practice. Maybe those other lives were kicking in.

He was her final Luke, hopefully.

As she props her chin up on his chest, she gives him the widest grin she’s worn all day. “I would appreciate that. Just don’t take too long.” Her forehead nuzzles itself into his neck as she settles herself back into his arms; fully content to be wrapped up in him for as long as he will let her stay. “I’ll get worried.”

A soothing hand over her hair is all the confirmation she needs.

“Don’t worry, Boss. I’ll be there.”

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #juke #jukebox #jatp fanfic #juke fanfic #we found wonderland

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