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rommahh · 3 years

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I Carry Your Heart

Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 4k

{Ahhhh ok so this is my first work like ever. There will definitely be a second part because ive got more to say and it needs a second part. I hope whoever sees and reads this imagine enjoys it. I appreciate comments, likes, reblogs, ideas on what could go into the story, and any form of help and redirection as to how i should write things. Much love, R.}.

Part two

All Y/N wanted tonight was to hang out with her boyfriend, eat a mass amount of junk food, and watch a marvel movie or two. That was all she wanted and that was all she asked of her boyfriend. Instead of any of that happening, she found herself sitting on the nasty kitchen island of her boyfriend's frat at a party that she was trying to avoid going to.

This party was supposedly ‘the party of the year.’ The last rager before finals and then christmas break. Y/N had spent the whole week studying and finishing up end of semester projects hence the want for a chill night. When Harry came to her saying his frat was throwing a party tonight and that he just HAD to be here, Y/N didn't feel like she had a choice but to let him go. She came because she thought this would be the only time she would be able to have some time with Harry after a long week of barely seeing each other. With two vastly different majors, the couple wasnt able to find a lot of time in the middle of school work to make time for just the two of them. Obviously her hopes of quality time with her man were futile because here she was sitting by herself in the kitchen of the frat while Harry drank and got high with his friends in other parts of the house.

Of course she was disappointed. She felt a knot in her throat and a weight on her chest just sitting there in that kitchen. Her white claw was warm now- not that it was any cold when she opened it. She was starting to form a small headache from the too loud music and the ache in her heart was growing.

She stood from the countertop on the search for her boyfriend, hoping he wasn't too far gone from sober. Wiping the back of her jeans from anything that was left on the island, she began walking around the house. She doesn't remember the last time the two of them spent time together by themselves. Of course they occasionally ate dinner together in the dining hall but they were normally surrounded by friends. Y/N wanted to be alone with her boyfriend to talk and bask in his presence.

After pushing through groups of partying humans, she found Harry and at least ten other people sitting around playing some sort of drinking game.

“Y/N! Where have you been?” Luca, one of Harry's frat brothers yelled out to her from the circle. Luca was cool, he was one of the only tolerable boys in this frat aside from Harry. Hearing his girlfriend's name, Harry turned around from where he sat on the ground and reached out for his girlfriend to sit beside him. Much to Y/N’s dismay, Harry was wasted. His eyes were half mass and his words bumped and slurred together. “We are playing truth or dare, wanna play?” Luca asked.

“I don't wanna play but Ill sit and watch.” Sitting next to her boyfriend, she grabbed one of his hands holding it in her lap. She was annoyed at him but it did her no good to show it when he was this drunk.

This game of truth or dare was childish. Dares of licking people's shoes and taking multiple shots had been done and truths about money and relationships were being spilled among the group. It had finally become Harry’s turn to do something, making Y/N tense.

“Ok Harry, I dare you to…” One drunk frat boy started looking around the room trying to come up with something clever. His eyes landed on a pretty girl in the room, Yara, a stuck up girl who for sure got her way no matter what. “I dare you to kiss the hottest girl in the room- obviously not your girlfriend because that defeats the purpose.” The frat boy smirked knowing what his intentions were. Everyone in the group giggles and gasped shocked by the dare but ready to see what was going to go down. Y/N’s brows furrowed as she became angry with the stupid dare.

The ache in her chest seemed to tip over the edge when she felt her boyfriend in the room move to stand up. She grabbed at the bottom of his shirt as a way of stopping him. Harry halted his movements to look down at his girlfriend. He giggled a little.

“You’re not actually going to do this right?” She asked Harry with wide eyes of shock. Harry laughed at her like she made a joke, making her heart hurt even more.”Harry I do not want you to do this just take the shot and lose the dare.” Her tone held warning.

“Don't be silly of course I'm going to. It's just a dare, nothing serious. Don't be so clingy.” He stood walking over to Yara and planted a wet kiss on her mouth. Yara gripped Harry’s shirt and kissed him harder. The kiss went on for a few more seconds, the room absolutely silent out of shock. Harry stepped back from Yara slightly sobering up from his actions. Yara smirked at Y/N, hand gliding down the front of Harry's shirt.

Y/N stood from the seat she was in and scoffed. Scoffed because she should've known Harry would do something like this. Scoffed because it hurt to see her boyfriend do something so careless without any regard for his girl's feelings. She pulled herself together, feeling her throat tighten once again. She was quick to leave the room and down the hall of the frat.

Harry's clumsy steps could be heard from behind her as he mumbled her name. Or at least he tried to. He was still so out of it, his words not making much sense. Y/N was crying now, the strength that she had slowly dissolving as she walked further away from her boyfriend.

“Y/N wait. P-please wait. I cant-” Harry stumbled over his legs behind her falling into the grass of the front yard. The girl couldn't help but turn around looking at her stupid boyfriend. She was choking on sobs now. She wasn't crying over a measly little kiss but over an extreme amount of burnout from school and exhaustion from simply existing. She was crying because her boyfriend ignored her boundaries, crushing and erasing the boundaries she had set in their relationship. Harry tried reaching for her once she had stopped walking. His hand clasped around her wrist, he laid his head down on her shoulder. He hated seeing her cry even if he was too drunk to see why.

“Baby don't leave, Im-Im Sorry.” He hiccuped and burped due to the alcohol. Y/N felt her rage build. Shoving Harry off of her, she crossed her arms across her chest as a way to shield herself from Harry physically. He was hurt by her distance and the wall she put up around her.

“You're an idiot Harry. An idiot!” her sobs grew louder, some stray party goers watching in amusement- some even snapchatting it for shits and giggles. “I didnt want you to kiss her and you did. What provoked you to think that was ok? All I wanted was for us to hang out tonight and just be us and you did this!” She was yelling now. Her hurt is beyond her now. Anger and rage simmered throughout her body making her head dizzy and her fingers curl within themselves. She didnt like being angry. It wasn't an emotion she liked acting on, it felt impersonal.

“Baby I don't under-” Before Harry could finish his sentence he was barfing at his feet. Y/N stepped back disgusted with her boyfriend. She couldn't even feel remorseful because of how angry she was. Luca, the frat brother from earlier, caught up with Harry and his girl only to find Harry doubled over heaving. Luca wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders.

“I'm sorry Luca but I can't do this tonight. Can you please make sure he gets some water and goes to bed. I-I can't do it tonight, I wish I could but I can't.” Y/N didn't want to leave her boyfriend in this state but she didn't deserve this. She wasn't going to care for her drunk boyfriend when all she wanted to do was care for herself. Selfishly, she enjoyed seeing him this way because of the anger he caused her.

Luca shook his head in understandment. “Of course, I'm really sorry for tonight. He's going to seriously regret this in the morning, especially since it will be circulating all over snapchat in the morning.” Luca waved to Y/N then proceeded to pull Harry into the house. Harry called out for Y/N not wanting to be away from her but Luca pulled him harder.

Harry woke up the next morning feeling like the bottom of a dumpster. He wasn't shocked by that. He knew he got trashed last night, he had planned to. He, just like Y/N, spent all week studying and completing projects while also fulfilling certain responsibilities for his frat. He wanted one night to be a normal teen. So he drank and drank and drank and maybe even smoked some weed. As he tried to recall last night's events he came up with nothing. He didn't understand why Y/N wasn't here with him like she normally would after a party on the weekend. They were normally always together during the weekend. A bad feeling loomed over him. He could tell something wasn't right but decided to put his feelings to the side.

He saw a bottle of water beside his bed making him think she was probably here and left early. Chugging the water he started to go through his socials to see if anyone had posted about the party. He had multiple tagged pics and videos in his notifications from snapchat. Way more than he normally would.

The first video he saw was a video of him and Y/N standing in the front yard of the frat house. Turning the volume all the way up he could hear Y/N yelling, it shocked him. She doesn't normally raise her voice, especially not at him. The angle changed showing her face which was red with anger, eyes filled with unshed tears. He could hear her yelling about him kissing someone else. He felt his heart stop. He had kissed someone else? On the next snap was a picture of him keeled over vomiting on his shoes with the caption saying, ‘are yall seeing this shit?’ Harry was embarrassed but he was more concerned than anything.

His head was hurting but it didn't stop him from rolling out of bed, washing up, and putting on a fresh set of clothes. He checked his phone hoping Y/N had messaged him but nothing was there. He walked into the kitchen only to see luca sitting at the counter eating cereal.

“Hey Harry….” Luca said warily. Luca pushed the cereal around his bowl feeling the tension begin to rise in the room. He felt horrible about his friends.

“Luca...what's up?” Harry was confused by Lucas' wariness.

“So do you remember anything about last night?” Luca asked, setting his cereal down in the sink behind him. Harry started playing with the frayed edges of a bracelet Y/N made for him. It had little beads with her name on it. They made them together at an event on campus.

“I don't, I only saw the videos of Y/N screaming at me. I think I fucked up but I- I don't know what happened.” Harry's cheek flushed with even more embarrassment. Luca awkwardly chuckled scratching the back of his neck.

“You got dared to kiss the hottest girl in the room and um actually did it in front of Y/N...even though she didn't want you to. Which led you guys outside and yeah you know the rest...Im sorry dude, I wish I had stopped you.”

“Who- who did I kiss?” Harrys stomach lurched when he heard Yara’s name come out of Lucas' name. Y/N didn't like Yara and it was understandable. Yara has been pining after Harry since their first year of college. Harry couldn't breathe. He felt disgusted with himself. He could only imagine how Y/N was feeling.

Y/N woke up the same morning, eyes puffy and crusty from tears and head hurting. She probably cried herself into dehydration. She was lucky enough to have no roommate because she wouldn't have wanted someone else to see her breakdown. She still couldn't believe last night went down the way it went down. She couldn't tell if she was just being overdramatic or if her emotions were in the right place. She didn't want to be mad at Harry. He was everything to her, she had an odd connection to him. Meeting him during their freshman welcome week they quickly became best friends with a growing romantic connection in the mix. They started dating before Christmas break. They had grown close so fast that he even came home with her to meet her family for the first few days of break. Even though they were in their junior year of college, Y/N could see them beyond college. She's imagined them getting married, travelling, sharing a home. She saw the whole future with him. She had her doubts though. He was immature just like every other boy in college. He was dumb with his actions and tended to only do things if they benefited him. He had a lot of growing to do as a person, so did she but she wanted to grow with him.

She heard a knock on her door hesitating to answer it because one, it could be Harry, and two, she looked like a wreck. Answering anyways, she was met with a very sorry looking Harry holding a small coffee and bagel from their cafe.

“Hi baby…” He sheepishly said holding out the items. She silently let him through the door not once looking him in the eye. He stepped into her room, setting her treats on her desk. He could see that her bed was messy meaning she recently woke up. Y/N never went about her day without making her bed. He turned back to her and finally their eyes met. He took in all of her facial features, from her puffy eyes, to her downturned lips that looked chapped, to her flushed cheeks that longed to be held for warmth. He hated to see her like this, the last time he saw her so upset was when her parents moved out of her childhood home. It took alot to make Y/N this upset. She was normally really headstrong and vigilant. She knew how to ease her way out of problematic situations and could talk her way through anything.

Harry opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Y/N holding her hand up in front of his face. “Don't talk. I'm really hurt Harry, so if your plan was to come over here and apologize over bagels- think again.” She snapped, backing up to put space between the two of them. She sat down on her bed while Harry pulled the desk chair out and sat down. He much preferred to be on the bed with her holding her tight but he didn't want to overstep boundaries.

“Love, I don't know where to begin. I'm really sorry for what happened last night. I was really drunk and obviously wasn't in the right headspace.” Harry reached out and touched the tips of her fingers with his. She wanted to move but it felt good to be touched by Harry.

“I told you that a measly little apology won't do Harry. I didn't want you to kiss Yara and you did anyway. You know how Yara feels about you and you just let it happen!” She pulled her hand away remembering the prior night's events. Harry felt himself getting angry too. He felt like he needed to defend himself- even though it would be a very bad idea.

“I think you're being over dramatic.” Wrong move Harry. “It wasn't like I was making out with her!”

“You're joking right?” She scoffed and scooted further up her bed to create more distance. “Harry it's the simple fact that you did something that made me uncomfortable that shouldn't have even happened. I see myself getting married to you and it makes me worry that right now in our relationship you can't respect my boundaries!” She yelled. Harry’s eyes widened as he laughed sarcastically.

“Married? What the fuck are you on about? I'm a junior in college. In what world would it make sense for me to be prepping a relationship for marriage? Once again I think you're being over dramatic.” Her eyes watered hearing Harry's statement.

“I- I guess I'm the only one in this relationship thinking about the future? I thought we were on the same page. I'm not planning our marriage now, obviously. I'm thinking about how elements of our relationship now could play out in the future when we do want to get married. You cheated on me last night. I went to a party you begged ME to go to only to be there for you. I wanted to be here cuddling with you, pigging out on fast food but I was at a party with you and got cheated on!” Her volume rises once again, making Harry shove his chair from underneath him when he stands up.

“You're doing too much right now. I'm not planning a future right now because I don't want this future! I want to be myself without thinking about how to appease my girlfriend. I invited you to the party so you could lighten the fuck up. I love you, I do, but I'm not thinking of marriage and futures. I'm thinking about my life right now and having fun.” Harry snapped right back at her. Her chin wobbled. Obviously her and Harry were on different pages. It hurt so much to hear him say that he didn't want a future with her. Harry didn't mean it though.

“Ok, well I guess that's my fault for assuming we were thinking along the same lines. Um, I don't want to hold you back from being yourself so with that being said, you are a free man Harry.” She pushed herself up from her bed walking to the door ready to escort Harry out.

“Huh? Love, what?” Harry was confused on how they got to this point. Just a few days ago they were in love, meeting in the library to share a lunch and exchanging sweet words determined by their love.

“Listen I have a day full of exams tomorrow so if you could just leave that would be best. You don't really want this so I'm letting you go, Harry.” She had tears rolling down her face, falling from her eyes down to her chin where they fell to the ground in droplets. Harry’s eyes welled up watching his love cry before him.

“I don't-”

“Harry, leave, please.” She opened the door making room for him to go through. He walked through the door turning to look at her. She turned her face away from him whispering a small goodbye before shutting the door. Harry was left in the silent hallway, so silent he could hear his thoughts and the tears hitting the tile floor beneath him. He thinks he stood there for at least thirty more minutes before accepting what had happened and walking away.

Leaving Y/N in her room sobbing like she had never done before. Her tears coated her face and she thought her head could explode right then and there. She didn't want to accept what had happened but she had priorities. She composed herself enough to start studying for her exams.

The week rolled by quickly, Monday meeting Friday in a flash. Exams were done and Christmas break was on the horizon. Students were piling off of campus in a hurry ready to get home to their loved ones. People were outside by cars loading up their winter necessaries and saying their goodbyes to their close friends.

Harry cried everyday this week. He wasn't normally a crier. He hated crying, he hated the feeling of crying and the headache that came from it. He cried because he realized how wrong he was. He missed Y/N. He missed finals week dinner together where they tried to get off campus at least once and be alone for a moment. He missed watching her relax while eating food that wasn't from their school's cafeteria. He would pay for their meal just so she could have one less thing to worry about. They would normally get frozen yogurt right after too, Y/N getting as many toppings as she wanted because Harry would be the one paying. He missed her tight after exam hugs. She would squeeze his shoulders tight, smiling into his neck, telling him how proud she was of him. She would bring him tea in the morning when they met for breakfast. Sometimes they would spend the night in one or the others room so they could have time together to destress and just talk.

Y/N wasn't doing any better. She normally went into exam week feeling confident. She studied too hard not to. But this week she felt like shit. Her heart hurt and she kept thinking about the fight. She feels like she overreacted but hearing Harry talk about their lack of a future hurt nonetheless. She really assumed that they did have a future that included marriage and a life together. She didn't understand where his sudden lack of commitment came from. She regretted dumping him but at the same time she wished he did more to get them back together but he was silent. He hasn't contacted her at all and avoided all of their spots on campus all together.

She stood by her car prepping for her six hours car ride back home. Packing away her clothes and some essentials in the trunk of her car, she heard light footsteps behind her. Closing her trunk she turned to see Harry standing with his hands in his pockets.

“Hi.” He said. She looked at him, putting her own hands in her pockets. It was cold outside, the nippy air hinting at a possibility of snow.

“Hi Harry.” They shared a moment of silence together. Just staring at each other. It felt good to be near each other again. They felt like they could breathe again.

“I had to see you before you left. I know the break is only a month but I didn't want to leave without seeing you.” He replied quietly. She made him feel so shy. Her beauty always made him awestruck. Even in a hoodie with their college's logo and some large sweatpants and some fuzzy crocs, she was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“I don't know what to say harry.”

“It's ok. I don't deserve anything from you after what I said. I just wanted to apologize and wish you a good break before you left. I also wanted to give you this.” He pulled a small box and envelope out of the front pocket of his backpack. “I know we agreed on no presents but I think thats a dumb rule and I love you too much to not get you something.” She smiled at his words, taking the gift from his hands.

“Thank you Harry, it means a lot to me. So what are your plans for a break?” She asked him, the tension that was in the air slowly dissipating.

“I couldn't get a flight home until next wednesday so i'll stay here on campus until then.” He shrugged.

“Oh ok. Well tell Anne I said hi. I have to go Harry but I'll see you after the break, ok?” She didn't want to leave him but she didn't want to drive through the dark.

“Ok, love. Drive safe. I lov- I mean have a good break.” Her chest tightened at his hesitation. She wants to hear him say the words but she knows he won't.

“Have a good break Harry.” She whispered. Before getting in her car she stood on her toes placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Rubbing her thumb across his cheek and turning away and into her car.

She drove away knowing that her heart was left in that parking lot in the hands of someone she loves way too much.

Harry stood in the parking lot watching his heart drive away for winter wanting nothing more than to be with her.

Part two

#harry styles x reader #frat!harry #i carry your heart #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #college!harry #part 2 coming soon #harry styles smut #fratrry #boyfriend!harry

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talesofsonicasura · 2 years

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Hank and Devil Hunter s/o meet Devil May Cry

Not even two days and the first one has like 20 likes/reblogs. Holy shit. Guess I'll post this a bit early. For anyone not knowledgeable in DMC, I'll be filling in the gaps so there is less confusion and I won't be going into any deep lore. I'm using the original Devil May Cry and NOT the awful reboot. Can be read as gender neutral or preferred gender.

You and Hank had gotten a reputation ever you guys started working together. Now getting quests from seasoned hunters to help on jobs. Even got yourselves a (shared) alias: Dual Reapers.

Such attention only sucks when someone started to knock on your door at the asscrack of morning a.k.a 4:00.

The little creachurr of a roommate, who had snuck into your bed again (a habit he started doing a few weeks ago), HISSED before seeing who it was.

Hank had opened the door to bloody Vergil Sparda, one of Devil May Cry's newest yet infamous members. A staredown between the hunter and a growling grunt wasn't something nice to walk in on.

After nabbing the territorial grunt, you naturally asked why Vergil was here. In short, it was a recruitment. The business' owner, Dante, wished to expand the group a bit.

Thus is how you and Hank ended up waiting at the Devil May Cry shop in Capulet for a job interview.

The assassin sitting in your lap like a cat while you were taking a nap on the chafe couch. A two day trip by car will do that to anyone. And Hank is too short to even reach the gas pedal so...

The Crossling currently purring as he kneaded your legs(Kneading is another habit he recently started doing.) A sight your potential boss and legendary devil hunter Dante, walked in.

Could only guess that the man did something to piss off Hank as you woke up to gunfire. The grunt fucking shot the white haired hunter.

Thankfully the rumors about Dante being half demon were true since he sat up after taking a few bullets to the head, completely healed.

"Guess I can add getting shot by a 2 ft grey muppet to my weird life experiences." And Hank manage to shoot him in the shins before you restrained the Crossling.

Dante decided to test the two of you with a job. To hunt down a few Empusa Queens who made a hive in a forest outside the city. A bit difficult since there would be a ton of Empusa workers but not impossible.

Scratch that last part. Why? Cause a bloody Cerberus decided to invade halfway through the job. Sure the massive ice hound got rid of your remaining targets but it was SO MUCH worse.

Hank's guns and knives did nothing but piss it off. He had to turn into his Mag Form just to help you fight. With some teamwork, you blasted the icy armor off the Cerberus so your partner could deal the final blow.

Apparently Hank earned the devil's respect because Cerberus' soul turned into a Devil Arm. An ice element tripartite nunchaku. Practically beaming with pride not only for getting his first Devil Arm but the praise you given.

The still MAG Crossling took a bath and got patched up without a fuss once getting back to Devil May Cry. Guess Hank decided to relent since it was a rough day.

Dante and Vergil came in to you conked out on the couch as a MAG Hank laid haphazardly on you.

The younger twin(Dante) being nosy, went to pull down Hank's face mask. He didn't cringe much from the ill placed prosthetic jaw and gnarly teeth. Moving Hank's goggles to be met with inky pits and pinprick red dots was another story.

You woke up to your partner chasing Dante with Cerberus and a gun. As you went to restrain your partner, you missed Vergil saying something to himself.

"Such foolishness. He should know better to approach a demon next to their sleeping mate."

Hank is possessive as he is territorial as hell and I really wanted that to show. Give them any act of kindness, then expect this little creachurr to be clingy.

Actually, I can see that happening with a good chunk of folks not used to affection. If someone who only experienced pain in their life, gentle touches or positive actions(hugs, kisses and pats) will become something they crave once used to it.

As for the links, I thought of using these instead of the images in question. I usually end up revising a lot of my posts and I know how people don't like their art being used without credit. It's why I always look for official stuff like concept art or character models.

As for Dante getting shot, it's a pretty common occurrence in Devil May Cry franchise. He's been shot and stabbed to the point it's morbidly comedic in the fandom. The man's barely even phased by this point. Mainly getting stabbed by Vergil or shot by Lady for doing something dumb/being a smartass.

I really did give Hank a Devil Arm. There are some demons and devils in the franchise that conventual weapons won't even damage. Weapons are usually made with demon parts so it can damage these particular nasties.

Here's some clarification for those who don't know Devil May Cry. Devils are different than demons in this franchise. They're more powerful, have higher levels of sentience and can become Devil Arms when slayed. Demons can be considered as minions or even cannon fodder to Devils.

Until next time folks, continue to thrive in the madness. Here's Cerberus in both demon and Devil Arm form.

#madness combat imagines #madness combat #devil may cry #hank j. wimbleton x reader #hank j wimbleton x y/n #hank j wimbleton x reader #hank j. wimbleton #hank j wimbleton #hank j. wimbleton x y/n #self insert #devil hunter reader #sonicasura #tales of sonicasura #madness project nexus #madcom

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secret-rendezvous1d · 3 years

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“you’re so beautiful.”

hello, hi.

here’s some long-awaited spencer fluff that got requested to me. it’s loosely based on this idea that someone sent in to me; you should write something fluffy about spence or the reader being sick or having an off day (something along those lines), and the other just being very attentive to them. like checking in on them before the roundtable meetings or in between briefings and maybe they go out to catch an unsub and they're holding hands in the car and just being super sweet and caring :'))))) brb gonna go explode with feels.

explode with feels is how i hope you’ll feel after reading this. it did make me go all mushy inside because having spencer take care of me whilst i’m sick would be a dream come true- but it won’t because he’s a fictional character and that sucks.

this could the last story that gets posted for a while; some things are happening and i just want to take a bit of a break from posting stories on here until i’m feeling comfortable again. i’m still going to be writing behind the scenes so don’t think i won’t be; there’s so much spencer stuff to work from that plenty of stories will be coming. i just want to say that i am incredibly thankful to each and every one of you who has supported this new venture of writing and has enjoyed it so far.

like, reblog and send in some feedback, please. it’s greatly appreciated and it helps me work out what you want to see and what you are after. if you want something specific then do let me know! i’d love to try and write something for you.

thank you. enjoy.

“you’re so beautiful” spencer reid x female reader (reader insert imagine) word count; 4.6k.

* TRIGGER WARNING; very brief mentions of rape, abduction, torture. if you are uncomfortable with that, i advise not to read or read with caution. *

summary; yn falls sick and spencer likes to take good care of her when they’re working on a case.

YN woke up feeling like shit.

There was no need for her to beat around the bush and deny herself the truth on how her body was making her feel. Her head ached whenever she moved her vision from side to side and her temples throbbed close to her ears and she could feel her heartbeat from behind her eyes, pumping more vigorously, almost like it could have been heard throughout the entire building. Like the heartbeat effect in a movie when things got tense. Her breathing was shallow, her throat felt constantly dry and in need of hydration and her nasal passages felt like wet cotton-wool had been shoved up each nostril and had been strictly put there to restrict a clear intake and outtake of breath when she needed one. Her chest felt heavy, like she was drowning and had no way of coming back to the surface, and her eyes felt sensitive to the bright light of the pure sunshine streaming through the open curtains, which she assumed Spencer had opened when he woke up.

Despite feeling poorly and her head feeling like it wanted to involuntarily dip downward toward her chest, her eyes begging to have a few more minutes of sleep, she felt physically fine and there was no aching in her joints and no soreness around her neck and her legs felt strong enough to hold her weight and so she felt she could live the natural working day like normal. She could still hear so she could attend the briefing that morning, she could still see clearly so she could see the images of what they were dealing with when Garcia showed them on the screen in the roundtable room, she could still manoeuvre herself around and walk without getting dizzy or wandering from a straight line so she could easily be used in a chase to catch an unsub. She was fine to work and nothing but a couple of cold and flu capsules taken with her breakfast and some regular four-hour intakes of paracetamol through the day would keep her strong and feeling better throughout the day.

She left their bedroom freshly showered and spritzed with perfume and deodorant and dressed in an outfit that seemed like it was fitting attire to how she was feeling; a baggy sweatshirt, that hung loose down her upper body and covered her hands, and a pair of worn-out and black-denim skinny jeans that she kept in the back of her closet for days when work trousers just didn’t cut it for her. When she wanted something a little more comfortable and fitting. The material at the kneecaps almost worn out and torn from the non-stop crawling on her knees during cases that had them in tight spaces, the hems cut up from walking through thorns and shrubbery when cases took them into the wilderness, dried out stains of god-knows what sunk deep into the material which she struggled to get rid of when laundry day came around, and the denim around the inner thigh was wearing thin from the constant running around they had to do and with the amount of time she paced interrogation rooms and paced negotiation rooms when she felt on edge about something in particular. The jumper, she hoped, would keep her warm enough to not get worse symptoms over the next few days that passed so she wasn’t sent home for being ill - Hotch being more careful than strict because he couldn’t have her working excessively when her body couldn’t take the pressure.

What she expected to see, after closing the bedroom door behind her exit, was an empty living room that was void of anything related to Spencer. His house keys taken from the hooks by the front door, his tattered Converse trainers gone from the space beside her chunky black boots, his shoulder bag picked up from the floor by the coat-rack that was also missing his coat. Except, when she looked around and took a note of anything that had gone, everything seemed to have been left in the same place as where they had been left the previous evening when they arrived home; her boots were to the left of his trainers, his bag was hung up instead of left of the floor and his coat was taking up a hook on the rack beside her patterned macintosh.

He was still home and it took her a moment to realise.

There was a delicious smell of bacon and fried eggs filling the entire apartment, the delectable sound of something sizzling in a pan taking her from the entryway and into the kitchenette, where she found Spencer stood amongst the smells and the sounds and the spitting oil and the steam coming from the cooker. Stood with his back facing her and dressed in the typical waistcoat and patterned shirt, one hand holding a ceramic bowl in a tight grip and the other using a fork to mash two halves of an avocado up, head darting from the pan frying the eggs to the bacon cooking in the grill to make sure there was no burning of any of the breakfast foods he was prepping for a masterpiece.

“What’s going on here this morning? Are you burning food for an experiment or something?” She questioned, startling him in his spot, a tinkle of metal cutlery colliding with ceramic as he dropped the fork upon your sudden arrival. His body turned so gracefully in his place, the bowl of avocado being left behind on the counter, taking in the standing stature of his girlfriend as she stood in the archway of the kitchen entryway. Her hair damp from the shower but dried enough not to leave wet patches on her clothes, fresh-faced and make-up free, looking so small as she stood with a grin on her face- god, he really loved her., “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Good morning to you,” he smiled warmly, stepping across the expanse between them and reaching for her hands, curling his fingertips into hers and holding them gently in his sweetened hold. He smelt like his musky and sandalwood-scented aftershave, something that always lingered in whatever room he entered, and she loved that it made her feel so safe and secure. The smell of home when they/he were away from home. “You were tossing and turning in bed all night and I heard you sniffling this morning so I knew you were going to wake up a little ill so I thought I’d make you breakfast to cheer you up. Egg and mashed avocado on toast with some bacon to get you going since it’s your favourite at the moment.”

She smiled appreciatively. He was attentive, no matter what the subject was, and his eidetic memory came in hand sometimes when she found a new obsession or found something that she enjoyed because he always seemed to remember and never let it slip his mind. Egg and avocado on toast just so happened to be her favourite meal for the first meal of the day, which she knew would change by next week, and to see him cooking it made her heart race for him a little more than normal. She laced her fingers through his, bringing one of his hands to her lips and pressing a kiss to his skin because there was no way she was going to kiss him on the lips because she knew whatever she had could pass as quickly as it could spread. Much to her dismay, of course, because she liked to sneak the occasional and sneaky kiss whenever they could in between meetings or briefings or orders being thrown about from Hotch.

“A little ill?” She frowned, head dipping down to her chest before looking back up at him, his eyes full of concern and worry, “I feel fine. Just a little bunged up. A head cold, I would say, Spence.”

He left the space in front of her to tend to the sizzling in the pan that was becoming a little more vicious as it held the cooking eggs, spitting oil as an indication that they were ready to be taken out and placed on a plate and ready to sit upon a bed of toasted bloomer bread that had a spread of avocado along the toasted top. Turning off the hob and sliding to the toaster, slipping two slices of bread into their toaster and allowing it to toast whilst the bacon finished grilling under the heat. And, by this point, YN took it upon herself to sit at the dining table and pour herself a cup of coffee from the cafetiere perched in the middle of the table, steaming with black coffee that had been freshly made before she left the bedroom.

“You look beautiful today, by the way,” Spencer broke the silence of the quiet apartment with a huff and a puff surrounding his words, setting a plate down in front of her and swiping his brow with the back of his hand, “you’re so beautiful.”

“I don’t feel beautiful right now, Spence,” she informed him, eyes focused on the bright yellow yolk of her egg, as he went back to grab his plate and walked back to the table to sit opposite her. She was impressed with his attempt. She liked her eggs cooked in a very specific way when it came to frying them, sunny-side up and with a runny yolk that covered everything when it broke, and he managed to get it perfectly to her expectations. “I’m all bunged up and snotting and leaking from every hole today. I don’t feel so pretty.”

“Every hole?”

“Every facial hole, you pervert,” she scoffed and rolled her eyes, trying to hide the smirk that would have shown if she wasn’t trying to be a tiny bit serious. However, deep down, she was a little surprised that the innocent face that had sat opposite her at the dining table could even think of euphemisms so youthful and degenerative so quickly and so on subject when sex wasn’t exactly something he was confident in, “get your dirty mind out of the gutter.”

“I still think you look beautiful. Snot all around your nostrils or not,” he said, “absolutely gorgeous.”

“Shut up, don’t flatter me,” she kicked his shin underneath the table and grinned at the contact she felt with her toes, a wince leaving his mouth and a dribble of yolk trickling down his chin, the impact jerking his body and therefore jolting his arm and smearing avocado across his cheek, much to her amusement. “serves you right, genius.”

“Hurry up and eat, we’re needed in the roundtable room in half an hour,” he shovelled a forkful of toast into his mouth, the crust catching his mouth and swiping a mix of avocado and egg whites across his upper lip.“Try not to sniffle and cough so much otherwise Hotch won’t allow you on the jet.”

“Don’t sabotage my job, Spencer. The team needs me just as much as they need you.”

“I want you as close to me as possible so I can keep an eye on you. I’m a doctor, after all. I can look after you, carry any meds you need, be your something warm on the jet,” his sentence was halted by the ringing from the phone in his trouser pocket, the fork in his hand being placed on the plate so he could dig around and pull it out, no hesitation in his thumb to answer until he heard YN sniffle and he caught himself before he pressed the green call button. “You’re still alert to everything, yeah? Still good to come into work?”

“Do you mean, am I alert that Hotch is ringing your phone right now to get confirmation that we’ll be in on time?” She wondered, a hint of a smirk on her face when he looked up from his screen and nodded, “then yeah, I’m still good to go to work and treat the any like any normal day, Spence.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

Spencer’s question was full of concern, and she worried that those overhearing their conversation because of the silence inside the confinement of the plane had their ears pricking up at any noise made by any one of the team, his long legs striding across the alley of the plane and crouching down beside the chair YN had made herself comfortable in for the duration of the flight to Texas. Away from everyone else, away from where chat would have been occupied because her head couldn’t take the jokes and the laughter that came from the gentle banter shared, away from being seated next to anyone in close proximity because she feared that she would definitely give something to someone in the tight space they were spending the next few hours. Although, when she looked around the plane for any eyes on her or anyone who had stopped mid-task to focus on what she and Spencer were talking about, she saw everyone off in their own worlds and in their own quiet conversations as the plane coursed its path.

“I’m a bit tired but I’m okay. The pills before the flight are kicking in,” she smiled and tilted her head to the side and looked at him through red-rimmed eyes and hooded eyelids hanging above her coloured orbs, his arms folded on the arm of the chair she was curled up in. Her legs felt a little achy, in the bent up position they were in, and she remembered to move them and stretch them for a little to make sure her circulation was still running well. “I think I might take a nap right now. How long till we land?”

“Another couple of hours,” Spencer looked at his watch and then looked back to YN, his hand resting upon hers reassuringly, “I’ll brief you on everything when we land, if you want. To refresh your memory. I’ll get Hotch to get me and you to check the abduction site.”

“That’ll be good.”

“YN, get as much rest as you need,” Rossi said, standing behind Spencer and placing a soothing hand on his shoulder, squeezing it to tell him he was there and to not stand bolt upright in surprise. Partly to silently reassure him that she’d be fine if he left her to sleep through the flight to pass the time and partly to keep him stable as the plane hit a bout of soft turbulence from the gusts of high winds. “We’re thankful you chose to come with us but don’t forget to put yourself first sometimes. If you’re feeling rough then tell us. We can work around that.”

She really adored David.

He was like the father of the team; much more to YN because she had joined the team a short amount of time before he had taken over from Gideon. Even though he had common ground with almost every one of the agents in the unit, the two of them still kept a lookout for one another and checked in during intense cases because Rossi knew some of the information was enough to have someone second guess their career paths. He was the one who always pulled them aside when a situation got a little hated, he was the one who always pulled together team functions outside of work, he cooked for them and taught them Italian and he always knew how to shock and surprise them to a point where they weren’t surprised that Rossi had such an emotional and bumpy road in life.

He was the good cop to Hotch's bad cop - but that usually switched from time to time.

“Rossi, I’m fine. Honestly. I feel fine, just a little bunged up in the chest and the nose area. I struggled to sleep last night so I’m just going to try and grab an hour's shuteye,” YN spoke softly, wiping a tissue underneath her nose and balling it up in her fist, “I’ll be fine after a sleep, I’m sure. My grandma always told me that sleep was the best medicine.”

“If you’re sure,” he hummed, taking a step to the left and hiding in the alcove to make himself a cup of coffee, “absolutely sure?”

“This may not be my grandma’s couch but,” she grinned tiredly and nodded, “I’m absolutely sure.”

He smiled and held his coffee cup tightly in his hands, walking back to where he had been situated opposite JJ and Hotch, taking a glance at Morgan who had found himself comfortable on the sofa of the plane, the case file spread out on either side of him as he prepped to take control of the quick brief they always made so they were ready for when they touched down at their destination and split off into pairs to gain better understanding of who they were dealing with this time around.

“Warm enough?” Before his question was over, he was already shrugging off his jacket and opening it up, “here, some extra warmth,” he draped the material over her body and watched as she snuggled deeply beneath the garment. It smelt like him, it felt like him but it wasn’t him and she wished she could be snuggled on his lap and sleeping under his arm because that's where she slept the best- “better?”

“I was fine before,” she rolled her eyes and tilted her head to the touch of his lips, a kiss being placed against her forehead “but this feels nice.”

“Get comfy, I’ll go grab you some water.”

“You don’t need to baby me, Spencer. I’m honestly fine,” she grabbed his arm and stopped him from standing up and moving into the alcove behind her, not that he was going far but she just wanted to enjoy the moment they had going right now. They rarely got the chance to have their own conversation, in their own world, without any interruption from someone who wanted to tease them for something silly, “just stay here. I don’t need any water, not thirsty.”

“You can’t finish a sentence with the letter ‘d’ finding its way to the end of a word,” he said teasingly, a grin on his face because when she rolled her eyes, her head went the movement, like she went to ignore him because he couldn’t say anything seriously when she wanted him to be serious. Except, she wasn’t doing it to ignore him and to silently tell him that she was displeased with what he had said- she was doing it because if he let her eyes move on their own, her head would have been aching for moments afterwards, “let me grab you some water.”

“Spencer, stop,” she whined, “if I want water then I can get it myself. I’m not an invalid.”

“Never said you were but let me take care of you this time,” he was practically begging. She was independent when it came to being sick and she never liked to show a vulnerable side in front of Spencer, even when he tried his best to wear her down to the point where she gave in to his relentlessness, “please?”

She sighed heavily and pulled his jacket further up her body, tucking it beneath her chin and cosying a little deeper into the seat; she supposed she could use him and his willingness to obey orders to her advantage.

“Okay, fine.”

Two days had passed since they had landed in Texas, the longest amount of time that they’d ever spent on a case across the borders, and they were closer to the arrest of the predator who had abducted, raped and killed multiple women over the course of thirteen months than they were when they first arrived. Just a few more hours until they solved the case, had it come to an end with an arrest, so they could be on the jet and back in Virginia come nightfall.

She was ill, granted, and that was one reason as to why she couldn’t wait to get home. In the last forty-eight hours since they’d been there, YN’s head cold had turned into a full body cold and she had taken a turn for the worst but refused to work from the hotel room she shared with Spencer and kept her symptoms more secret. Partly because she was selfish - she knew Hotch would want her working away from the case because the chances of her zoning out where pretty high and she wanted in on the arrest of this unsub, she wanted to be the one who got him in cuffs and put him away for the murders of so many innocent women.

She wanted her own bed and she wanted to cuddle with Spencer and she wanted to sleep beneath her own covers and sleep in a mattress that Spencer wouldn’t check and inform her on all the facts about bed-bugs and larva that could linger within the spring beneath them, in a bed that wasn’t a tiny hotel bed that was put to shame by their comfortable bed at home. she wanted a decent shower to freshen up in because she always woke up feeling gross and no matter how many showers she took, she still couldn’t rid herself of the sweaty feeling that covered her skin. and she wanted

But she couldn’t wait to get home and try to rid herself of the information and the images she had been looking at and reciting and listening to over the last 48 hours or so. The stab wounds and the lacerations and the markings on the body of a woman who couldn’t defend herself, the brutal depiction of the well-thought out scenario that made YN shudder in her boots, the toture equipment that had been used on them when they were bound and tied up and screaming for their lives, the pictures showing the faces of the women who no longer had a life to live due to someone’s sadistic behaviour. That was the biggest reason as to why she couldn’t wait to go home.

And it was her arrest.

And she felt proud, a sense of accomplishment, that she was the one to handcuff him and walk him out from his tomb in the basement, beneath the house he had stayed in all his life, and pass him off to a police official who sat him in a police car waiting to take him to the station to be put away for the rest of his sorry life. Of course, they prevented any more attacks that this man would have prepared for but it never brought her a full sense of happiness- how could it when they couldn’t save the girls he had tortured?

“Even when you’re ill, you’re still a badass,” JJ claimed, squeezing YN’s hand and feeling the adrenaline shaking through her body. Something that they had all been through and always experienced no matter how many times they brought a criminal to justice for the horrific things they had done. “You did good, YN.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m a badass just-” she coughed into her free hand and Spencer was close by with a tissue from his jacket pocket, passing it to her so she could blow her nose and wipe the residue from her hand that came from clearing her throat, “just trying to be good at my job and trying to do it well to get these sons of bitches behind bars.”

JJ smiled at the two of them and jogged down the steps of the house, running toward Hotch as she filled him in and told him what had happened in the house and who made the arrest and who was their support and back-up in case things went wrong so he could write the report as best and as true to the story as he could. His eyes darted to YN and then back to JJ a few times as she explained in detail, a small smile on his face that was full of appreciation when he looked at YN and made eye contact which enticed a smile back in his direction, deep in conversation before clambering into the drivers side of the car.

“I’d agree with JJ,” Spencer smiled, laying his arm over her shoulder and pulling YN into his side, pressing a kiss to her hairline, “full of a cold and you still put the job first. That’s badass behaviour to me.”

“Badass,” YN scoffed and rolled her eyes, looking up at him and squinting from the sunlight that seemed to be beaming directly down upon them, “I don’t think so, Spence.”

They descended the steps outside the front of the house, his arm still holding her close, the soft feeling of grass and soil from the front lawn making a difference to the concrete they had walked upon as they exited the house. YN could feel the heat radiating all around, making her feel a little hotter than usual and she had the big jumper covering her upper body to thank for that, and she couldn't wait to be back in Virginia in the air-conditioned office that stayed at a calm and cooling temperature, no matter the weather.

“For a genius, I’d take his word for it,” Rossi said from behind them, overtaking them in a haste to grab the passenger seat in the car with Hotch, “he knows what he’s talking about, YN.”

She didn’t need to see his face to see and hear the smirk in his voice, her arm sneaking around Spencer’s waist, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment as she received a well-done from the rest of the team who had watched from behind the scenes.

“Come on,” he leant away from her and looked down at her, “you did so good today. I’m proud of you.”

“I just want to go home now. Although, I’m not looking forward to the flight with these ears. They ache like mad,” she admitted. Her earshad only just started aching that morning, something she thought would pass if she kept clearing out her nasal passages and

“We could drive home,” “I can make Morgan take us back. He won’t mind.”

“I will mind. It’s three hours by jet, five by car,” Morgan teased, elbowing Spencer in the arm with hopes he took it as a piece of banter and nothing more than that, “no, I can do. Of course. We can grab a bite to eat on the way home, too.”

“No, flying is much quicker and I want to be home and in bed by nightfall,” YN assured, climbing into the car and scooting over to the far seat behind the front passenger chair, situating herself comfortably and clipping her seatbelt around her upper body, “I’ll just take some meds in a second and sleep it off as soon as we get on the jet.”

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent, Spence,” she nodded and gave the seat beside her a pat with her finger tips, “let’s get home.”

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

Text

Witcher Of The Night (Chapter 6)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

CHAPTER 5

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: It seems as if a witcher came home after having his midnight pleasures from the brothels; leaving you in having a sleepless night. The witcher seemed to be distant after his argument with his child of surprise which left you completely confused because you’ve did nothing and have been anything but mean to him. Some questions were answered by a fortune teller as to why you came from another dimension; but the witcher was stubborn enough not to believe him and his intuitions. Leading to another event which would get everyone's life on edge, especially yours.

Warnings: Cuss words. Old times where men treat women like shit. Irked, frustrated, confused Geralt. Emotionally hurting reader. Naive reader about the whole medieval era. Jaskier finally being comfortable around the reader. (I don't know why this is a warning? 😂)

Words: 5,800+

A/N: AAAAAAAAHHHHH! I need me some actionnnnn! LMAO. XD This chapter was supposed to be posted on April 18 but I couldn't help it and I wanted to post it right now, So y'all can have something to read about. Heehee! THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT, TATERS! Btw, this is one of my favorite chapters and chapter 7 too which will be next to this. Ahonhonhon! Dang, I can feel we’ll reach 25 chapters before this ends. 😂😅 jkjk. I’M SO THIRSTY FOR GERALT, IS THIS NORMAL?

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren't from moi as well.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

You haven't seen the outside world; like you've been a cast in the 'Big Brother reality show' that you were watching back at your apartment. It was a lot more different in their city; much more barbaric; lively but actually mirthful.

When you've arrived at the marketplace there where tons of people, absolutely crowded with all forms of life walking around. There were white tents where merchants have been selling their goods and a lot of buyers hollering for their attention.

You've remembered the night before when Cirilla has hugged the life out of you all night. She'd cried herself to sleep but eventually let the wrath fade away early in the morning; acting like nothing happened as she'd asked Geralt for her weekly training in swordplay before the morning comes.

Up all night and you couldn't sleep. Cirilla has offered her bed to keep you comfy rather than the table out in the kitchen. You've said your disagreement to the offer because of her status. She was a princess, so you've thought that sleeping beside her would not be possible. Though, she was persistent and asked you if it was okay to hug you while she sleeps even just for the night.

You've eventually said yes; but had to keep your eyes all open especially at the bothered feeling of your heart from the facts you've heard from Cirilla. Even adding more effect to your sleepless night was from a witcher who happened to went home before the morning twilight rises. His reasons were unsaid but the booming voice of Jaskier in the small living room was enough for you to know that he'd gone somewhere...fun, exciting and pleasurable.

Thus, that kept you up all night even more.

Your heart seemed to be a lot more bothered after he arrived maybe with a pang of a peculiar sting inside your chest that made you pout all through the night.

Nevertheless, you've ignored that feeling because maybe it was just a stomach bug that you've had since then. The morning after, you wore your winning smile as you've shown yourself to the men of the household with a beam you hoped that seemed to be convincing that you had a good night sleep.

But, Jaskier being Jaskier; he'd pointed out those horrid eyebags you've appeared to be nastily wearing. The Witcher had said nothing other than a wavering look which felt so different. So distant and withdrawn like he wasn't capable of smiling. Well, he had reasons not to after what has happened in his life and probably realizing how much of a baggage you are for even living in their home like you popped out of a chicken's bottom and gave them eggs to bear.

The connection lasted for two seconds as Geralt studied your face before breaking whatever overwhelming feeling that the butterflies in your stomach has been trying to say. He'd then avoided being in your presence and went out to feed his horse as he got ready for the morning activities.

Jaskier gave you both a look of wonder before you'd given him a reassuring smile like there was no uncomfortable feeling running in the veins of your heart. You were the best at it; faking a smile that is.

The way towards the marketplace was much farther than the way to Cuthbert's house. Obviously, because it was almost like a city or the center of the kingdom for the walk of life. You've walked alongside with Jaskier as Geralt had Cirilla on his horse.

It was the first time you've appreciated Jaskier's talkativeness because if he wasn't then the whole journey would've been serene and awkward by how the witcher was giving one word answers to anyone's questions or statements.

Well, he certainly slept on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Literally, because he'd slept on a different kind bed with a woman.

You've tried sparking up a conversation; tried saying your sweetest good mornings when he was outside and talking to his horse, but when he'd felt you were there. It was like the wind changed and he didn't want you to hear him talking to his horse nor even breathing.

A simple good morning and how he was were asked; but a simple, lackadaisical answer of the word 'fine' was given to you; not giving you those enchanting golden eyes and just the wide statuesque of his back were shown.

So much for going outside to try and talk to how he was because he seemed to be in need of more people who cared for him.

You've ignored the way your heart fell at how he was putting up; acting like he wasn't trying to comfort you the other day when you were having one of those panic attacks you have. Here you thought, he was actually starting to treat you as a friend even just for the time being but it was like the world shifted and he was treating you like a stranger.

Maybe, you were right. Your presence was beginning to become a burden of his surprise obligation for even paying for your clothes and letting you stay in their home. As much as you've remembered that night, you would only stay for a day and leave to find the airport. But, the airport was nowhere to be found as you've finally realized how you actually magically appeared on a different kind of earth and in a timeline you weren't accustomed to.

You didn't know what to do. No matter how much you wanted to go home and leave the family you were currently living with; it was like you were left with no choice but to stay because you didn't know how to come home.

There was no coming back, as of now.

"Why, who's this small lass?" The feebly, doddering woman croaked as she accepted coins from a Kaedwenian child before she'd finally turned to look at you from head to foot, her expressions unreadable when she'd noticed how you've looked more of a hobo then their peasants who lived anywhere and had no place to live. Though, you were cleaner than the rest.

It was like there was a garage sale in the marketplace; tons of stuff laid on the tables as you didn't knew what the uses of it were. Your eyes were scanning the things that laid on the table; one by one until your attention caught a silver necklace that had a leaf as a symbol and coral green stones wrapped around the linings of silver. You've picked it up and examined the jewelry; being charmed by the mere necklace and lately realizing that the stones were twinkling like no other; having no explanation at how it was twinkling or glittering against the sun like magic was consuming it.

"It's a fae," Babeth cut you off your reverie. You've snapped out from being enchanted by a simple necklace. It was a pretty one, definitely can be used everyday and the way it twinkled was strangely beautiful. You didn't expect for them to have these kind of necklaces, "---Serves as an amulet for bad luck that is bound to come. A sorceress has said her incantations to that necklace; keeping you away from ill-fate,"

Babeth gave a weak smile, the wrinkles on her face thoroughly evident as she continues to mindlessly fix her goods in front of you. You blinked back at her, a beam raising your lips as you tried to get a good look at her, "A fae, ma'am--??"

The woman has completed your sentence for you, raising her gaze to meet your eyes and noticed it was a beautiful, light forest green, "You can call me Babeth, Elfin!" she sweetly yelled over the loud chatters of the crowd.

She suddenly gestured behind you, nodding her head as her smile widened, eyes also twinkling like how bright her smile have been; like she was happy with her life and family, with no worries. "What's your connection in being a travel companion with a witcher, elfin?"

You blinked out of surprise, betwixt and between turning half your body around when you've felt Geralt's presence looming behind you. You've resisted the urge to face him and just stared at Babeth instead, ignoring the fact that he was already staring at your head; longer than he ever did since this morning. However, you didn't know he was even looking.

"Ughm," you hesitatingly started, thinking of another statement other than saying that you were figuratively an alien in their world. The witcher wanted to save you from saying anything weird that can get them speculating that you weren't from their world and tried to butt in, "She's---"

Jaskier came to your aid; despite of not asking any help because you certainly didn't need saving in anything. He'd slid beside you with a more added effect and subtly wrapped an arm around you, in between you and the witcher who was sky scraping from behind.

"Geralt's destiny," the bard confidently finished for you both with a dramatic gesture of his free hand; giving Babeth a smolder when he did open his mouth to utter lies at the sweet, old woman.

Geralt's attention went straight to Jaskier's arm wrapped around you; lately becoming aware of what he managed to tell the merchant. It made him growl beneath his chest, giving the bard a scowl from behind. But, it seems as if Jaskier's persistence didn't falter as he continued to smile at the seller before them.

"Bard," Geralt roughly scolded with his jaw tensing.

Babeth's facial expressions seemed to even be happier, if that was even possible. Finding the news thrilling and exciting for her to hear; her eyes lit up like fireworks in the sky, "Oh! A lover!" she gave a clap full of mirth, "---I didn't know when you'll become serious with yer' life and thought you just do yer' whores!"

Your smile wavered at the last mention of that word. So, he was also infamous for that. Probably always in brothels since Jaskier has always been saying. To make things straight to the point, Geralt was one of the fuck boys in earth. Typical men.

Well, he isn't a prince from the start so technically that explains it. Withal, there was no prince' and only in fairy tales despite that you were living in a fairy tale surprisingly.

You've felt Jaskier's hold on you grow tighter when you continued your explanation for the poor, old merchant who was smiling like she'd seen her favorite OTP finally be together, "Oh--Babeth--I'm not--" a loud cough erupted out of your throat as the bard scooted closer, his arm now around your neck as he added pressure like he was choking you, "Ja-Jaskier!" your eyes bulged out of your eye sockets, grabbing onto his arm and violently clawing them away.

The merchant went on with that adorable smile of hers, never guessing if you were both playing nor trying to kill each other already. Jaskier was smart enough to distract your loud huffs of breath through his fake laugh; topping those loud complaints of yours, "Oh! Hahaha! Aha! you know how tender...love...and care can change a person! Perhaps, got the witcher soft somehow!" he gestured with his thumb towards the Witcher who was throwing daggers behind his back.

"Is this your compensation because we've brought a Hirikka at home?!" you hoarsely whispered, struggling to get away from his hold.

The bard laughed louder before lowering his voice down and muttering in between his cackle, "I'm making it easier for everyone! Shh!"

You were close to biting his arm until it bleeds. But, you didn't want to ruin his very elegant and flamboyant clothing that you only see in the medieval period, "Well, you're not!"

Jaskier slanted his head to take a peek of your reddened face. Due to his arm choking and also probably the fact that he'd been trying to tell the merchant that you were Geralt's other half, "Then, why do I see a blush?"

The merchant waved her hand from the banters, giggling at the way you both looked like you were playing before giving her attention to a new customer who'd rudely demanded for her attention. Thus, it was the perfect time for Geralt to wrench Jaskier's arm around your shoulders, strongly pulling him from his back as the witcher sighed in frustration.

Jaskier tried to battle with his strength, though it was no use because apparently; the witcher was stronger. "Ge-Geralt! What?! I'm making everything easier by controlling your foolishness while you're being an utter boor!"

Their voices died down, constantly being covered by the lively noise of the marketplace. The boys were probably going to the Tavern they needed to visit as you were now left with Cirilla who was picking new dresses for her and for you.

She'd pick up a cute princess like strapless dress that will certainly reach above your ankles. Cirilla held onto the beautiful dress and showed it to you, her grin painted on her pretty face, "Say you didn't like dresses, Y/N?" you've blinked back at the dress like you couldn't believe it was real and actually cute. A satisfied nod was given to the child, "Well..That is certainly an exemption," you pointed out and excitedly grabbed onto the dress, placing the clothing in front of you to see if it would fit perfectly. It does and you couldn't help but think how it was normal to wear these kind of dresses without people looking at you weirdly like back in earth.

Cirilla continued her ransack through a hill full of different types of clothing and grabbed onto a red, sheepskin cloak that had the right length for you; adding it to the items that should be bought. She went on in finding more clothes that will fit you, "---Also, they have leather pants, boots of your size and half sleeved shirts you may want?"

You saw how concentrated she was with picking clothes for you to wear; like she was more excited to dress you up. However, no matter how much you wanted to buy those clothing, you understood and accepted the fact that you haven't brought your wallet with you and they probably had a different money currency as well.

"But, I don't have any coins for these..." your train of thought ceased; index finger pointing at the pile of clothes she was carrying on her child-like arms.

She gave all the clothes to an awaiting, smiling Babeth. The Ashen haired child patted herself as she was searching for something, "Cease the worry, Y/N!" the latter fished out a medium sized black bag full of coins, "---Geralt has it covered!"

You've had your face in a twist; screaming its negations over the fact that it was the witcher's money that was going to be used. Though, there was no use of a protest when she was determined and was a one word woman.

All the clothes that has been bought was inserted in Cirilla's beige ransack that was strapped on her back. You've offered to carry it for her as she'd seen Ethelia who hollered for her attention. She was also the same age as her; even as beautiful as the princess but she had brunette hair, hazel eyes with freckles all over her nose. Ethelia was as pretty as a picture; same goes for Cirilla.

One fact that you learned about their world was that it was full of lovely people and you were thinking that you were seeming to be out of place for it.

Cirilla informed you that she would be playing with her and the kids not far away from the tavern. You've given her a thumbs up but you were actually worried for leaving her in a place you didn't know and felt sketchy because of how it wasn't your ordinary; leaving you feeling anxious for her well-being.

Hence, the tavern didn't looked better as well. You were used to strobe lights, the smell of cigarette or sweat and the moribund heat that backs you away from stepping in a nightclub; never dreaming to come close to one ever again.

But, here you are; standing in the middle of an hostelry looking like the small elephant in the room as people who wore old-fashioned clothes and armor were staring at you like an alien. So far, they didn't know that you were actually one because you didn't belong to their world.

You were trying to find anyone you knew; even trying to look for a certain white haired man who seemed to be not in good terms with you for unknown reasons. There, you did saw him seated on the farthest end of the pub looking mighty with his sword laid beside him as he drank Ale, listening to a man who appeared to be reaching his elderliness.

Geralt's whole being has ever been so ostentatious like you were watching a scene unfold from a television series. You didn't notice you were already observing him from afar until he'd blinked and slowly turned his head to you, eventually catching you gawking. But, being lucky at the most awkward scene of gaping at him over the other end of the roadhouse has saved you from your embarrassment when a well built villager wearing tons of heavy armor accidentally bumped into you; making you break away from watching the witcher. As the man bumped into you, his mouth was as nasty as he looked and tried to tell how peasants like you who had no crowns deserve to be sold to a brothel keeper because of how poorly you were dressed; also, probably because it was only your worth.

So, women were treated rather poorly in their era. Your consciousness talked back and gave you the reality of it all.

You were also lucky enough to catch Jaskier's attention and saved you from being sold anywhere.

As you sat down with Jaskier and his pixie friends that had elf ears; it was stunning to see a live fantasy gnomes sitting in front of you and drinking till their heart's content. You'd realize how survival was a difficult task in their world as the poor were treated like they were the lowest of the low and people with crowns were treated rather fairly.

Hence, living in their world can officially be a nightmare for you. A daydream of showing how much of a nightmare was to live back in the old times.

"So, this is what a bar looks like in the medieval period," you murmured to yourself as your eyes scanned the whole buzzing place. They were heathen people and there were loud chatters and laughter like there were tons of stories to tell; even the bard himself does as he was sat beside you; chattering with a man who weren't hobgoblins; but was sat around your table. "You sure Ciri is fine with the kids?"

Jaskier waved a hand to wash away your worries; giving you a once over as he smiled a big one, "Ow, shush. Yes she is. Stop being a mother hen and enjoy my singing out here with the lads," the bard grabbed onto his lute that was strapped behind him, swinging the instrument and actually hitting you on the shoulder before he apologized and started to strum a melody in which you've heard when he was trying to annoy the witcher who lived in the house you were in.

So, that's what its called. Toss a coin to your witcher. The bard already forcefully let you hear the song and you were pondering if people really toss coins to a witcher who slays beasts, like literally.

You playfully rolled your eyes at his attempt on entertaining people in the tavern, "Your singing sucks ass, Jaskier." But, it was actually just a playful banter because his voice was amazing, believe it or not. However, you weren't there to give him compliments and shower his ego after calling you rat for so many times.

The bard gave you a look of curiosity, his blue eyes sparkling like how the sun cascades through the oceans, "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

You tried the Ale that Jaskier has given you. You've smacked your lips a lot of times to taste it better and subtly noticed the bitter taste that it had more than a typical beer. It definitely had more alcohol content than a Heineken, "Bad as how Geralt calls your singing like a pie with no filling,"

Jaskier faked a surprise, stopping from warming up before he starts singing epics, giving you his war face and a coltish glare as he humorously spat, "You are certainly the living nightmare in my life for saying that!"

Jaskier's singing grabbed all of your attention. Thus, you were oblivious of a particular individual who was lurking behind you as he seated and talked to Durriken who continued to ran his mouth on the heed-detached witcher.

Durriken's ginger hair was shiny against the light of the sun that reflects from the windows, the elderly man shakily continued his story as he studied who the witcher was gazing at that even got him giving a damn when he ever does not, "---The villagers had seen the beast on the swamps in the south! Had my lads killed as they've stabbed it with their swords! It was a poisonous monster and wounded my people with a burn that could let ye' see their bones!"

The witcher gave a disgruntled hum, his jaw clenching like he'd seen something awful.

Durriken ceased his stories; sipping on his ale as he bluntly asked and ripped his eyes away from him with a knowing smile, "The trouble and strife, witcher?"

Geralt couldn't help but want to roll his eyes at the incessant accusations they had between the two of you; giving abrupt malice to your presence as you tagged along with them, "Why do people always tell me this," he gruffly mumbled to himself, finishing his shot of Ale in one gulp as he dropped the cup with a thud.

"Have ye' seen the way you look at er'?" Durriken's smile was unwavering as he could remember you from his dreams; like the whole scene was dejavu.

The witcher gave him a tight-lipped frown, sitting completely composed; but with his blood boiling for whatever reasons he doesn't understand, "She's been dragging me in to more horseshit than I can ever get involved,"

Durriken heedlessly caressed his goatee; seeming to be in deep thought to what his next words would sound like and if it will be better to be said rather than keep it to himself and watch the future unfold without alarming the other, "Ye' wouldn't be complaining if you realize that she's actually your destiny, Witcher."

Jaskier stopped strumming his lute after finishing one song; planting his ass on his seat as he laughed out loud with the villagers of Kaedwen. The adorable hobgoblins lending their elfin ears at the bard who had memorable tales to tell, "I've been the witcher's travel companion decades ago!"

You were unaware of somebody patting your hand like he was consoling you because of your consciousness was solely on the bard who kept on getting everybody's attention. That being so, you jumped on your seat as Jaskier hurriedly slapped the man's hands that rested on top of yours as it was laid on the table, "And---Hands off, Belerick! You don't want to vex off a witcher and have your adorable little body thrown in the swamps,"

The dark eyed gnome raised his voice to groan out his frustrations, caressing the hand that Jaskier has attacked; eyes exclusively on yours alone, "She's just so cute and my type!" Belerick mirthfully announced with his eyes giving you the hearts. You kindly smiled back at little guy, "Say, munchkin; wanna spend the night with I?"

A soft giggle was sent to the latter and it was enough for him to sigh like a man in love, "You're a cute one, Belerick." your smile softened as you saw him grin like a cutie pie and tried to reject his offer in a very nice way, "---But, I'm good for the night. There are other women out there who would want to,"

Everybody who sat on the table in a circle cooed. The spot light suddenly on you, "Aww! She's a kind one!"

The little guy irritatingly huffed, growling at his companions who kept on teasing him that he was rejected, "Nobody does, Y/N!" Belerick snapped with a bitter tone as Merek hopped off his chair and leaned his short elbows on the table; giving you a kissy face, "Aye! Maybe Y/N would want to spend the night with me a lots more than ye', Belerick!" Merek teased the other little guy who kept making a fuss, "---Cause ya' got a small dick!"

Both gnomes had their hands choking each other as they fought for your unavailable hand. You couldn't help but chortle from their sudden fight; entirely unaware of their intoxicated self controlling their minds.

Jaskier emitted a loud sigh beside you; dramatically rolling his eyes at the scene, "Oh gods, you are all signing your death wishes,"

Another giggle was sent to the people surrounding you, trying to infect them with your naivety, positivity and kindness; "You guys are cuties! Thank you for finding me...nice-looking, though I don't actually," you started again, looking at the set of barbaric men seated around you and Jaskier, "I look like a potato, boys. You need to get your eyes checked by an ophthalmologist,"

"A what?" Now was the time for Jaskier's brows to tighten.

"Ye', don't look like a potato!" Belerick and Merek uttered all together in chorus, giving you the heart eyes.

"Yet, you look a little different!" another leprechaun crowed named Carac. He had his medium length hair tied on the back in a makeshift ponytail. Carac paused for more added mysterious effect. Both you and Jaskier blinked back at him; unnerved because of how the lad was scrutinizing back at you like there was something wrong.

Until such time, he'd open his mouth and vaingloriously claimed that made everybody groan out in exasperation and utter cheesiness, "Ye' look like my future missus, Elfin!"

You and Jaskier blew out a breath you were holding; the thought of finding out you weren't from their dimension now disregarded. You've apprehensively giggled and pointed a finger at the little man giving you a smolder, "Oh, that was smooth." Carac pouted his lips more, wiggling his eyebrows in a frisky way, "Do I deserve a kiss?"

A nod of fascination was given to the latter. You've given him a grin and shook your head at his sudden twentieth century kind of flirting, "Very smooth,"

"You know, he can hear you right? He's a witcher, you oaf!" Jaskier gave the dwarf a look of disbelief before you'd suddenly stood up out of nowhere and drank the last of your ale. "I'll check Ciri outside," you declared and put down the empty cup after burping in a low tone and it was enough for Carac, Belerick and Merek to sigh like a boy in love as their eyes were trying to melt you down. Jaskier scoffed at how they looked and nodded with a smile as he waved you off, "Alright, try to keep out of trouble, rat. I'll follow you soon,"

Moments have passed and stories were told, Geralt has understood Durriken's offer as he tossed a bag of coins to the witcher in which he caught it with his bare hand, his expressions twisted in a way that can tell people he wasn't in a good mood. The real question here is; when did he ever looked like he was?

The bard was already off his seat, Geralt saw you went out minutes ago and Jaskier began to tail like a cat to the rat; even began to feel a little comfortable with you since this morning and it was slightly bothering him to no reason.

Thus, Durriken even had the chance to tell him things about destiny that even rattled him more.

"I don't believe in utter bullshit," the witcher spat to his utmost discontent, sighing as he does so. He was tired of hearing it over and over again. It even lead to having Cirilla in his life; he wouldn't want to include you as well. Especially that everybody who gets involved with him; enters demise without him knowing. It was like a link to death when one person even tries to want to know him better.

He was already having a difficult time protecting Cirilla and Jaskier from harm; it would kill him more if you had the plausibility to meet death without even coming home to your homeland.

"Destiny will always come to you, Witcher," Durriken cheerfully muttered in spite of Geralt's gloomy state; his smile never faltering, "---As much as the princess did,"

The witcher languidly closed his eyes; asking himself what he has done to receive all kind of destiny thay gives him a rough time. "Once...is enough," he seethed through gritted teeth. Annoyance ticking his features, "Twice is destiny playing fucking tricks on me,"

"It's been two years, Witcher. The elvens; they will never cease." Durriken announced as a matter of fact, trying to remember his dreams that he wanted to forget because it never fails to happen. "---Say, that elfin of yours isn't from our world, aye?" the latter added with a cunning smirk, "---She has created more chaos to our dimension. Opening a door to the continent which has never been seen before,"

Geralt's forehead creased a lot more to what he was saying, looking completely at loss. Never trying to look guilty that you actually really didn't come from their world. He didn't know if Durriken was just guessing or not and he didn't want to be cocksure.

Durriken continued, his voice lowering a pitch as he whispered; "---It is like a whole new era to the conjunction of spheres. Revealing unaccustomed beasts you haven't seen nor fought with, but has all been taught back in Kaer Morhen," he leaned his elbows on the table, pursing his lips as he eyed the witcher who gave him his unconcerned attention.

"---Her existence has created more beasts that cannot be slayed nor controlled. Warning mages, elders and sorceresses from other peculiar changes," pause. "---She shouldn't be here. But, your future has made everything possible, Witcher."

On the spur of the moment, the grandsire looked around as he was trying to find someone. Also, getting a gist of an uncomfortable feeling and a blurry image of his future. His ability already has certain limitations he couldn't control rather than years ago when he was younger.

"---Only one wish shall be required for it to be permanent," he suddenly blurted out of nowhere, eyes falling at the scowling, confused, ivory haired witcher.

"Durriken, you are talking shit," Geralt grumbled beneath his armored chest, a brow raising for the incredulity slipping through the man's words.

"I am a fortune teller, am I not?" Durriken boastfully affirmed with a shaky chuckle, "---When do I fail at reading the future?"

"Today, you are." the witcher mumbled beneath his deep breath, shaking his head at the fortune teller's intuitions.

Durriken was tapping on the table with his index finger as he looked away; like he was lost in his own world. The old man breathed a deep one as he closed his eyes and felt his temples twitching; trying to remember his dreams despite of how blurry in ended, leaving answers to himself that he couldn't quite understand, "Keep her away from a cunning queen and a greedy sorceress," he admitted with a whisper, "They'll know her existence and it'll bring you a much more unfortunate fate, Geralt of Rivia,"

The witcher studied him, waiting for him to laugh out loud for all the lies he had said. However, he received none and only a smile that tells him that Durriken was never lying from the start. His statements were processing inside his head; thinking so hard on how it was possible. You, a mere human who suddenly popped out of nowhere now had a destiny linked to his.

Impossible.

"Witchers are known to have no emotions," the ginger head, old bloke shared with no shame, "---Yet, I never believed that. You have been capable of achieving more, Geralt." he'd snapped his head to look out the door as a barbaric combatant or considering a root of the kingdom's military forces sauntered in; they were some of the people doing the dirty work and Durriken knew what was happening like he had seen this already, "---She is about to be taken as a strumpet right now by the Kaedwenias," he continued to fixate his eyes on the gallant who loudly demanded for Ale towards his older daughter at the bar.

Fate moves in mysterious ways. He'd believed that when he'd seen the witcher's future turn exactly the way he saw it; seeing how it molded and bended his beliefs like no other was a miracle. Durriken subtly pointed at the door with his thumb as he saw Geralt's face mask with aggravation, shock and disbelief. "---With your Cirilla outside. Yet, she has been saved by the purity and selflessness of your woman's heart. You owe her your life because your Cirilla was close to being captured,"

The witcher hurriedly stood up in a trice at the aforementioned warning; heedless of Durriken's smile that was filled with felicity and mischief; a mix of both when he noticed how Geralt grew tense; letting the fortune naturally go like he eventually does.

"---You will love her like no other," the fortune teller promptly delievered with sincerity. Geralt halted from drifting away, his wide-width shoulders on display as he never saw how the witcher's face was now filled with bother and perplexity.

"---Nevertheless, your beautiful destiny is always masked with an unbearable truth and thus waiting for a price to pay, Witcher."

PLEASE DON’T BE SHY AND SCREAM YOUR FEEDBACKS TO ME, TATER TOTS! HEEHEE! THANK YOU! I JUST WANNA BE Y/N SO BAD. 😂😥😣

Taglist: @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @vania-marie @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-starfleet @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernatural @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer @marvelousell @kingniazx

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sage-nebula · 3 years

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((do NOT reblog))

Lately I’ve been thinking that I have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I’ve been tired—like, extremely so—for . . . maybe a year now? If not longer. It feels like it settled in shortly after I started my new job back in March of 2019, so in that case it’d be more like a year and nine months, but it’s hard to say for sure. I thought for a long time that it was because of my new job, because I have to wake up early in the morning for it and my delayed sleep phase disorder means that I’m running on a lower than average hours of sleep each night during the week. But lately I think it’s more than that.

See, the thing is, it doesn’t matter how much sleep I get. Even if I get the suggested nine hours a night, I’m still dozing off a little after waking up, like a couple hours later. Even if I get twelve, thirteen, or fourteen hours of sleep in a night, sure enough I’ll be dozing off again a few hours after waking up. I have no energy to do anything on the weekends. Even if I get the aforementioned thirteen hours of sleep Friday going into Saturday, on Saturday I still feel so drained that doing a load of laundry leaves me feeling completely wiped out. This causes mess to pile up in my house, because I just don’t have the energy to get it done, because I only start to feel normal by Sunday night (and even then it’s like barely normal) but then the work week starts again. I had a four day weekend this weekend thanks to the Christmas holiday, and I spent both Thursday and Friday with no energy to do anything at all. Even when I didn’t feel sleepy, I felt so drained of energy that just laying there felt like the most that I could do. Today I’ve felt a bit better, but still recuperating. Tomorrow, my last day off, is the only day I think I’ll have the energy to actually do stuff and get my house in order. But then the work week starts again, and so does the cycle anew.

And the thing is, this isn’t normal. I didn’t used to be like this. Even when I was only getting like five hours of sleep a night, I’d just need a day or so of rest and then I’d be back at 100%. But now it’s like I’m slow charging, and it’s never enough because I don’t have time for it to be enough. One or two days of sustained activity is enough so that my body wants to shut down for like a week. And it’s not sustainable! It’s very hard to live like this! I can’t keep my house clean or do basically anything else because I feel so drained. This is also why I haven’t written anything of substance in so long; even though writing isn’t a physical activity (aside from the physical activity of typing), it still takes energy, and that’s energy that I just haven’t had. My battery is constantly in the red, yellow at best, and I don’t know what to do about it.

About four or five months ago, when I told my doctor about this, he gave me Antidepressant #2 in an effort to help it. That seemed to work for like, a day or two . . . then I went right back to falling asleep at my desk at work no matter how much I slept the night before. I recently asked him to up the dosage to see if that would help, and he agreed*, but then I discovered that upping the dosage gives me tinnitus, and people on the internet say that after they kept using it despite the tinnitus it got to the point where the tinnitus never went away even after they stopped the medication, so. I’ve decided to stop taking that one and I’m going to try to wean myself off it. I’ll talk to him about that on Monday.

(*He said that he didn’t think that it would help and suggested that I exercise to get more energy instead. Of course, the fatal flaw of that plan is that I don’t have the energy needed to exercise in the first place. Plus, my legs are such shit that even things like jump rope cause my right ankle and left shin to be fucked up for days afterward. He suggested I try yoga, since that’s a low impact exercise, and I’ve got myself a mat to give it a shot, but I don’t have much optimism about it making much of a difference.)

I looked up Chronic Fatigue Syndrome online and it honestly does sound like it fits. I’m constantly exhausted, I have daily headaches (which could be down to my genetics since I do have genetic migraines but still), I often have muscle pain in various parts of my body, etc. But at the same time I’m not sure if it’s actually that or if I’m just overreacting. Like I don’t know what the threshold is, or if I’m like, I don’t know . . . what if I’m just lazy? I don’t think I am, because there are things I genuinely wish I could do that I just don’t have the energy to do. I wish I could take my dog on hikes and long walks. Pre-pandemic, I wanted to do things like go to the art museum or the science center or the zoo. I’d like to do rock climbing, provided my legs could handle that, and so on. But even before the pandemic, I never had the energy on the weekends to actually go out and do those things. I’d want to! But then I’d feel so dead that I couldn’t even get out of bed before late afternoon / evening, much less actually go out to do things. Don’t get me wrong, I do take my dog on short walks at least once a day, usually multiple times a day, because I’d never neglect her needs like that. But it’s not the same as being able to take her out to a trail and explore new areas that would surely be more interesting to her nose than just our neighborhood.

So I don’t think I’m lazy, because I want to do these things, and even smaller things, like I wish that my house could be clean and that I could make all these interior decorating renovations to it, but I just don’t have the energy. But I still don’t know if it’s actually bad enough to be considered Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I still don’t know if I’m overreacting. What if this is a level of exhaustion that everyone has, but unlike me they can push through it? What if this is just part of Being Thirty and I’m just too weak to handle it? It’s like how I didn’t know if the pain I felt during my period was normal or not, and I still don’t actually. My gyno gave me the birth control implant to drive my periods down just because I asked for it, she didn’t actually diagnose me with any illness like endometriosis or anything like that. Sure, it felt like machetes were being shoved up into me every month to the point where I’d become incapacitated and sometimes even cry out in pain and sometimes even throw up due to how bad it was, but it could be that way for everyone, right? Maybe that’s just how it feels to have the lining of your uterus shred itself because it’s mad you didn’t get pregnant that month. How am I supposed to know?

There’s no real point to this post. It’s more that I just wanted to get my thoughts down somewhere. I don’t even know where to go from here, really. I don’t think my doctor takes me seriously enough to look into a diagnosis like this, but also I’ve never had luck finding a doctor that does take me seriously and I don’t really know where to start looking. To be fair, I do have an anxiety disorder and so I grant that my mind does find jumping to the Worst Case Scenario to be an easy one, but also the last doctor I had literally would not listen to me describe my breathing problems to her without dismissing me entirely, so. It’s been rough. Of course, even if I did get a diagnosis, it’s not like there’s a treatment, and definitely not a cure. So even if I do have CFS, what can be done about it? It’s not like knowing will solve the issues that it causes in my life.

I don’t know. There’s no point to this. It just really sucks to be fucking physically exhausted all of the goddamn time, especially since sleep does little to help it and I hate sleeping anyway since I have nightmares at least 75% of the time, if not 85%. (It honestly feels more like 85%. Maybe even 90%. It’s very rare that I wake up having not had at least one or two bad dreams that night.) I just want to have energy. I don’t know what that’s so much to ask of my body.

But anyway, DO NOT reblog this, or I’ll just delete it so the cut leads nowhere anyway and also block you, thank you,

#just medical ramblings under the cut #//--do not reblog--//

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1095fm · 3 years

Text

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER. REPOST DO NOT REBLOG !!

NAME: mia (me-uh)

PRONOUNS: she/her

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION: i usually prefer im’s first, then once i get comfy, ill typically give out my discord!!!

NAME OF MUSE(s): HHHHHHHH too many, here’s a list

RP EXPERIENCE/HOW LONG (MONTHS / YEARS?): i have been rping since i was 11-12!!! which is insane to me bc i’m 24 now.

PLATFORMS YOU’VE USED: omg so freaking many. i started on myspace, then moved to roleplayer.me, did a little thing on FB, then moved to tumblr and just recently gave tweeter a try. i been around the block /:

BEST EXPERIENCE: we made a group of hunger games rpers on facebook that actually picked up so much traction to locals. i played katniss, and we started at the release of hunger games. we would post ic interactions, ic statuses, but had a blast interacting with fans. by the end of it all, my katniss page had just hit a million likes. i deleted the page circa de 2016 bc my friends would see it when i would switch from it to my actual facebook, and i got paranoid. some of my friends also liked the page, but had no idea it was me. i would see it on my personal timeline and just ??? it also just kind of turned into us running fan accounts. the peeta account is still up and it has 314k likes, and that was after being 6 months in, and having to remake the page. it was a wild time. best experience but definitely glad its over.

RP PET PEEVES/DEALBREAKERS: i value the time that i have to give, bc i mostly have to make the time, so my biggest pet peeve is when it feels like its being taken advantage, not appreciated, or i’m being rushed. reminders are okay, but if messages are excessive + pushing for a response, it makes me lose all muse for the thread anyways.

MUSE PREFERENCES

FLUFF, ANGST OR SMUT: i'll do any of it tbh. i’m a huge fan of creating a wave of feelings, so i try to have threads that are simultaneously fluff/angst, but sometimes, i do be just cravin some of that sweet shit <3 i’m not that experienced in smut, so id prefer to do that over discord to save myself from embarrassment lmao.

PLOTS OR MEMES: i prefer memes for muses who are just meeting for the first time, but if we want them to have a prior connection, then i prefer to plot!

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: im one of those people who will work REALLY hard to keep it at a paragraph, and four replies in, somehow have an actual novel.

BEST TIME TO WRITE: my days off, and mid day in pst! i work very early mornings and am still getting my sleeping schedule straight, so im a lil sporadic rn.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S): i’m a lot like one of children and a little like all of them. they all share at least one trait+interest with me.

tagged by: @jupitcr

tagging: @neverafters @mortalis @viraegos @scrunchie @telledstories and whoever is reading this <3

#idk what to tag this as so just close ur eyes <3 #⇖ ooc: 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓈⎫my own musings.

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licenselesswriter · 3 years

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1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 13, 14, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 41, 44. And if I could send more, I would.

Inspiration and Reading Asks:

1. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction? Started reading when I was 12, started writing it, when I was 14, so reading, 19 years ago, and writing 17 years ago.

2. How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both? I’m a 33.3% reader, 33.3% WIP machine, a 33.4% writer, and 100% mess, I usually spend my time doing an absurd amount of WIP that comes out of thin air, like, I can be eating an apple, boom, Bori WIP, a cup of coffee? Boom, Roro WIP, breathing? Boom, Lucaya WIP (that last one happens the most)

3. Are there any fics that inspired you to write what you do? It’s called Unfaithful (EN), it’s on fanfiction.net, and honestly, it’s so well written, that I had nausea 3 times while reading it, the pain was so palpable that I felt ill from it.

4. Link your three favorite fics right now. Right now, and in order 1 - Unfaithful (EN) 2 - Twenty Nights 3 - Perfect

6. How do you find a new fic to read? Where do you primarily read fanfiction? Fanfiction or AO3, and have an excel doc with my favorite ships, then I go to the random number generator, putting 1 as the minimum and maximum the number of the last ship I added to the list, then hit random, and read about that ship, keep things fresh.

7. Do you prefer to read short fics or long fics? Both.

8. How often do you reblog/comment on fics that you like? When they are on Tumblr, a few times.

9. Tag 3 fic writers you think are underrated/unknown in the fandom/fanfiction community. I’m sorry, but I don’t know if they have Tumblr, so, amirmitchell, snowdrifts, and Onde Tu Esteves

10. What’s your favorite fandom, pairing, or character to read fic for? Fandom: Game of Thrones, love all those modern universe AU I have to say. Pairing: Lucaya (Not a surprise) Character: Lucas Friar, Portgas D. Ace, Roronoa Zoro, or Prince Zuko.

Fanfiction Writing Asks:

11. How do you come up with your fic titles? Coffee, food, and usually, Spotify, all that, sometimes, make my brain work into having titles about the things I want to write.

13. Do you outline your fics? How much of a headache would someone get if they just looked at an outline of yours without reading the fic? I do outlines, in 5 stages, so a pretty big one. 1 - I write in my notebook, what I want to write, like a general idea. 2 - Post it on my walls and door, to give the story some structure. 3 - Notebook outline the arch of the story. 4 - Outline every chapter on word. 5 - Reduce that chapter into mini arches to write faster.

14. Do you have a personal word minimum that you hold yourself too? Why or why not? I do (now), I usually don’t post anything that is less than 2900 words, Why? because we must not forget that writers not only write for people in the fandom, they mainly write for themselves, and I love to read something among that word count because that’s long enough to keep me on the hook.

16. Do you research for your fics? If so, how deep of a rabbit hole have you gone down by accident when researching? I do research for my fics, how deep? I can give indications for divorce paperwork in the state of New York, even if you want or not to go scorch the earth with the “fault” rule, I can give an appropriate value to an apartment or a house in New York, Texas, Nashville, and San Francisco, and I can do taxes on those states too, and I know more about how high school classes work in the US than in my country, even when I went to those classes, and I’m from Santiago, Chile, you know, in South America, like, the last country of South America

17. How obsessively do you sit and stare at your fic after you’ve just posted and wait for feedback? I don’t, once I finish writing something, I run away, and watch anime for a few hours, or work (Yeah, sometimes I write on my lunch hour)

18. Do you have a WIP that you keep telling yourself you’ll eventually get back to, but deep down you know that’s probably a lie? I do apologize to “The Games we Play” I have no idea how I outlined your 26 chapters, but I’m still on chapter 2, and I’m sorry.

19. Do you edit your fics after you write them, or do you prefer to just hit post and run (because it’s someone else’s problem now)? Sometimes I do because sometimes, I write things wrong.

20. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process? That happiness I get when I’m in the Zone, and I write something that makes me say “Fuck, that was good”

21. What’s your least favorite part about the fanfiction writing process? I call it “The Deep White”, also known as writer’s block.

23. What’s your absolute favorite trope to write? I don’t write it anymore, because I was banned from a forum for writing it, but I love to write a bad ending, like “Killing the main character that I make you love for 30 chapters in the end” ending. I’m evil, I know, sue me.

24. What’s a trope that you’d like to never hear about as long as you live, let alone write? The “Good girl trying to change the bad boy,” I hate, apologies, I DESPISE that trope, it’s not cool, first, to be with someone abusive, and second, to try to change someone because you think you’re so almighty that you will change him (or her) because of love, bs, I SAID BS.

25. Do you listen to music as you write? If possible, link your writing playlist. I do, and of course, it’s named “Writing Shiet” because my brain can only process decent titles for fics (Says the guy who once named a fic “No Title”) Here’s the link

26. What’s your biggest distraction when writing? Anime and Manga.

27. Do you like to give your readers some warning of what might be coming or just slap them in the face with content at random? I don’t usually do it, but when I do it, I do it cryptic, like “You might be surprised, but this, I called in the beginning.”

28. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc)? I ignore it, If I can ignore good advice, ignore something that gives me more stress it’s an easy cake.

29. Have you ever written for an exchange or event of some kind? Which one(s)? Did you enjoy it? I did but didn’t submit, I wrote for 2019 fictoberfest on Tumblr, but never send a shit, I did enjoy it tho

30. Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words. "Well, we're still not in Texas," he says, implying something not PG-13 at all. "My God, in what did I turn you?" Maya teases him before getting up and grab his hand, pulling him up. Lucas grins at her, "On," he replies, making Maya flirty hit his chest

31. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones? I love writing Lucas and Maya, and honestly don’t know if it helps me or not LOL.

32. Copy and paste your top three favorite lines/jokes/sentences you’ve ever written. What fics do they come from? 1 - From November to June CH3 A few hours later, Maya heard a knock on her door. She takes a peek through the magic eye on her door and saw Lucas. She grabs her phone and fastly texts him. She was able to hear the 'ding' of his phone, and spying through the magic eye she saw his reaction. "Ok, first of all, I'm not that, second, my mother is not that, and third, I'm not gonna put that there, that's fucking gross, and probably deadly if you consider the size of my hands." he defends himself. 2 - Ten Duel Commandments CH2 Maya smiles at him, "Since you're all Texan cowboy goody-good boy, I imagine you would relate more with the honorable Lord Stark," she teases him. "Says the woman who read three books in a row and texts me at four in the morning," he replies before pulling out his phone, "R+L=J," he teases her, reading her text. "That's private, asshole," Maya recriminates him. 3 - The One Who Stayed CH18 "Then, I have less... GET OFF ME FUCKER!" Maya screamed, punching the person who grabbed her arm, "Holy shit, Lucas." she says, looking at the person she just hit. "Noted, never approach to you by surprise." Lucas says on the floor, "Well, this makes me feel more confident about you being here alone." he says before start laughing.

33. What do you like writing better: one-shots or multi-chapter stuff? Multi-chapter, unless, it’s wedding fics because I love weddings.

34. How much of yourself and your life experiences do you put into your writing? What do you think your readers’ image of you is? None.

35. How much has writing fic changed your life? Not much, but has made me happier.

36. Are there any fics or fandoms you’re embarrassed to have written or been part of? The Glee Project Fandom.

37. Give an update on your current WIP - if you don’t have one, give a sneak peek to a title or idea that you have and would like to write. "Shawn called him, and he assures him that if you try something inappropriate, he has a shotgun," she adds, making Lucas's face go pale. "Well, guess like father, like son," he comments, making Maya show unexpected interest in his words.

38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)? As I explained in the outline question, pretty tame if we count that I have my outline process numbered LOL.

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on? That I try to make it real, I try to make people feel something when they read.

41. What’s your most popular fic (with the most notes on Tumblr, most hits/kudos on ao3)? Tumblr? The One Who Stayed Fanfiction.net? Ten Duel Commandments

44. Rant about something writing-related. Please, let’s stop glorifying the “Bad Boy” character, he’s an asshole, allow me to explain, Bakugo, fucking asshole, he’s just a bully with an oversized ego, no, he’s not a tsundere, no, it’s not cute, that shit is abusive, and it really makes me want to punch people in their nose when the romanticize that bullshit.

Done

(Told ya I was bored)

#Licenseless Answers

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thethoughtsfromthreeam · 4 years

Text

Monument Woman

Pairing: Marcus Pike x OC (Rosemary Carter)

Warnings: Talk of death and illness

A/N: I’ll be on vacation this week, but I’m hoping to post weekly - Thursdays as reblogs of the previous chapter, Fridays around 6pm EST new chapters, and Saturdays as next day reblogs. And then posting when ever I so choose for one shots and drabbles.

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit. I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tag List:

@zeldasayer , @beskars , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale , @ahopelessromanticwritersworld , @lilkermit14 , @tortles [please message me to be added or subtracted]

Part 3 – The Clock is the Enemy

“What a beautiful day, Rosie.” Robert’s smile was small, but evident. He laid back in the patio chair with a blanket around his shoulders. The normally oppressive summer heat of August had been milder this year, but Robert was always cold now. His shoulders hunched over under the heavy cotton fabric, as if the weight of the world were on them.

She looked over at him from inside the kitchen and smiled, glad that he was feeling more energetic today then he had been the last couple of weeks. She had taken him to the doctor this morning and the news was grim – mere weeks were probably left for Robert and her heart clenched as she realized she had to watch yet another person she loved slowly die in front of her. Tears sprung in her eyes and she quickly looked away so he couldn’t see them.

She stood at the stove waiting for the coffee to finish, her hands tapping the side of the brightly decorated mug in front of her. Since his confession months ago about his diagnosis, she spent as much time with him as she could, helping him as he got his affairs in order. Last week, she moved in with him as his health took a turn for the worse and he struggled to care for himself. He felt as if he should have told her no, but he was so grateful for her, he remained quiet on the subject.

When the foam had dissipated, she poured in the cognac and topped it off with a lemon slice – just the way Robert always took his coffee at home. She carried it out on to the porch and sat next to him. He sipped the hot liquid and smiled.

“You know, my mother drank her coffee like this, too.” He nodded at Rosemary’s inquisitive look. He never talked about his family or his existence before Saugatuck, claiming his life here along the coast of Lake Michigan had enough memories to explore for a lifetime.

“I never heard of anyone drinking their coffee like that before I met you.”

“You don’t know a lot of Ukrainians, then.” He smiled. “She drank it with more cognac than is probably recommended, but she needed the pep in her step as she headed off to work.”

“What did she do?”

“She taught home ec at a local high school.” He grinned as Rosemary started to laugh.

“Did she include the coffee recipe in her class?”

“No, but it would have probably helped!”

The two laughed again and soon it petered out to a comfortable silence. The trees waved slightly in the breeze and they could hear the kids down the road shouting and laughing. The day was perfect and they both soaked it up knowing that these were numbered.

---***---

“Marcus! I’m so glad you called!” Hetty Pike’s smile was evident in her tone as she heard her only son’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Hi, mom.” He couldn’t help but grin every time he talked to his mother. She was a bubbly woman who talked with her hands a lot. When he was a kid, she always held his face in her hands and told him that she loved him, her head shaking as if to reiterate what she said. When he’d protested the action as a teenager, she told him she’d never stop because it was her duty to know he was always loved. “Is dad around?”

“Abe! Abe! Pick up! Marcus is on the phone!” He could hear her voice clearly even as she pulled away to call out to her husband. Pike rolled his eyes with a small smile as he heard his father’s booming voice come over the line, drowning out his much softer mother, who said her good-byes while the two men talked.

“Son! It’s been ages! How goes the art thieving?”

“Not bad, dad. I’m calling because I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

For the next hour, they chatted as Marcus sought out his dad’s advice on various aspects of the reopened cases. The senior Pike had been an electrician before he retired and often provided advice to the agent on cases where he could, often becoming a sounding board as his son worked verbally through the case.

After walking through a few scenarios, Hetty got back on the line and the three talked about this and that for a while longer before Pike said his good-byes with promises to call more often and to try and come out for his sister’s 40th birthday party next month.

The energy of the phone call dissipated into nothing as Pike stood in his kitchen, the quiet house a stark contrast to the liveliness he grew up with. He became lost in thought as memories flitted through his brain – happy memories of his parents who were so deeply in love, every day was a chance to prove it to the other; of his sisters and him getting into numerous shenanigans that left them breathless with laughter; of his blue-collar father being proud of his son’s artistic talent and happily attending his shows.

Pike let himself smile a bit before pushing himself off the counter, pocketing his phone as he wandered down the hall into his studio. He bought the small two-bedroom house in the outskirts of D.C. because its large windows let in tons of natural light, allowing him to set up an in-home studio to indulge his artistic appetite in.

Art had always been Marcus’ passion and something he had been good at since he was quite young. He was proud that he could parlay that passion into a career. He didn’t do anything professionally, instead choosing to let his talent serve as a distraction from the stress of real life. As he sat in front of the blank canvas, his hands rested in his lap, fiddling with the pencil.

By this time, his brain was creating a mash up of his memories and Carmichael’s words from some months ago. He hadn’t been on a date since the last time he was stood up, but no matter how much he hardened his heart, he still yearned for someone to love, the kind that his parents had. The kind he thought he had with his first wife, then Lisbon, then Eleanor and Carrie and Sumata.

It seems the only place he could express his heart freely and without pain was on the canvas. He shook his head as he turned on his playlist and let himself get lost in the one place that he could be himself with no judgement.

---***---

Several Days Later

“Helen?” The director looked up from her desk and looked startled at the pale woman standing in front of her. She immediately rose and skirted the desk to take Rosemary in her arms, giving her a warm hug. She felt the younger woman’s arms snake around her waist, and she continued to hold her as sudden sobs wracked the body pressed against her own. They stood like that for many long minutes before Rosemary pulled away and wiped her eyes on the back of her hand.

The two women sat down in the office chairs and Helen took Rosemary’s hand again, noticing the slight tremors she failed to feel before. She squeezed slightly and waited.

“Helen, I need to take some time off. Robert is getting worse and I don’t want to leave him alone right now. I know I have vacation. . .” Helen cut her off.

“Take all the time you need. I know this has been hard for you, don’t worry about us here. We’re fine. Marquetta can handle anything that comes in for you and I’ll take over the programs you are scheduled to work. You need to focus on you and Robert.” She didn’t say it, but the and your good-byes hung in the air between them.

“Okay. Thank you.” Rosemary stood on shaky legs and they hugged again before she went to her office. Despite the grief that hung around her neck like an albatross, she set her away message on her voicemail and email before packing a few things up for Banana. The dog had gone with her to Robert’s and the mutt spent his days sleeping against Robert’s frail form, providing a steady stream of warmth and companionship when Rosemary was at work.

After looking around her neatened desk, she walked to her workshop and glanced around there. She left a few notes for Marquetta on some projects that needed to be completed before walking over to her locked cabinet. She pulled out her keys and opened it, glancing at the bronze sculpture housed inside. She looked at it for a bit longer before closing the doors again. It was still on her to-do list but it was going to have to wait; Helen knew it was there, but only Rosemary had access. With the turn of her key, she left the museum to focus on the one person who needed her the most.

---***---

Three weeks later

The day was a sunny one, the sky a deep azure blue that spoke of the coming fall and as he laid in bed with the windows open, Robert took as deep a breath as his lungs would let him. He loved Saugatuck in the fall – the leaves, the roadside stands that popped up as the harvest came to fruition, and he loved to decorate the store as Halloween grew closer.

He let himself get lost in the memories of the past for a moment before forcing himself to focus on the paperwork in front of him. His lawyer had dropped off a new copy of his will and testament and Robert carefully read everything before signing it. Even as he laid there dying, there was something about signing the will that created a finality to it all.

As he sealed the envelope and sent a text to the lawyer to come pick it up, he heard Rosemary enter the house. He could smell food and for the first time in days, he felt his stomach grumble in hunger. He began to push himself out of bed when Rosemary enter the room and frowned at him.

“Get back in bed.” Her tone was firm, but gentle.

“I can get up; I’m not going to eat in my bed.” Robert grumbled as she walked over and gently pressed him back into the pillows. Rosemary was only a couple of inches shorter than his six-foot frame, but with his body becoming weaker, she seemed taller and stronger than she ever had before to him.

“You’re going to stay here. I don’t need you falling like you did yesterday and scaring the bejesus out of me.” Rosemary wandered back into the kitchen, pulling out the take-out boxes from Coral Gables. She arranged everything on a tray and took it into the bedroom. Just as she set everything down, a knock came at the door. She walked back towards the front of the house, seeing a woman standing on the other side of the screen door.

“Fern!” Rosemary was surprised to see her close friend on the porch, her voice rising in excitement. They hugged and Fern made sure to squeeze her poor friend a little harder than usual. They broke apart. “What are you doing here?”

“Robert is one of my clients. I dropped off some paperwork for him earlier and he told me to come pick them up. Sorry to interrupt dinner.”

“Never! Come in, I bought more than enough, and he won’t eat that much.” Rosemary’s voice dropped a little and she smiled slightly as a friendly hand rested on her wrist. “Anyway, please stay and join us.”

Fern nodded and walked into the house towards the bedroom as Rosemary ran to get more plates and silverware. When she entered the room, the two were in discussion, their voices low and serious. The conversation stopped as she walked up to them and both smiled at her.

The three sat and ate, enjoying each other’s company and Rosemary noted that Robert ate more than he usually did, which made her feel better. Fern stayed long after dinner was over and as Robert dozed off, the two women continued to visit, but moved the conversation into the living room.

They had been friends for several years, meeting after bumping into each other at Robert’s store. Soon their duo became a quartet as local banker Amy met them at a local charity event and Rosemary’s old college friend Tina joined them as she set up her vet practice in Douglas, just south of the town. The three women had been worried about Rosemary for weeks, visiting where they could and keeping a lively group text going.

When she realized it was midnight, Fern took her leave and Rosemary cleaned up the kitchen. She walked into Robert’s bedroom to check on him. He woke up when he heard her and smiled. She touched his shoulder and sat in the chair next to his bed, the place she spent the most time in these days.

“I’m sorry I woke you. How are you feeling?” He reached out to pat her hand and she held it as tight as she dared. He was so pale, as if he were fading away from her in front of her very eyes.

“Like death warmed over.” The chuckle sounded strained as his breathing continued to be hard for him. “Rosie, I never said it, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“I always make time for you, Robert. You know that.”

“And dinner is always Coral Gables.”

“Exactly. Tradition.”

“Tradition.” Robert coughed hard and heavy. He took the tissue she handed to him and wiped the spittle from his mouth. “A good historian loves tradition.”

“And the story it tells.” She sat back and watched him. He suddenly looked at her, as if he were seeing her for the first time.

“Rosie, are you happy?” She looked at him, surprise on her face. “I mean in general. I’ve never seen you date anyone long term, you hardly go on vacation. You work a lot. Are you happy?”

“I guess? I don’t know. I love my work, I have the girls, I have you. And yeah, sure I could do with more vacation time, but who doesn’t?” She looked away, focusing on the window, although it was too dark to see. “Dating is. . . It’s not easy and most men don’t seem to appreciate my odd hours. Or I’m too tall. Or I’m too loud. And I’d rather be single and happy than in a relationship and miserable.”

“That’s fair.” He smiled. “What happened to that doctor in Kalamazoo?”

“Him?” She wrinkled her nose. “God, he was a massive asshole. Ego the size of the Grand Canyon. I went on two dates with him and had enough.”

Robert laugh slightly before sighing.

“I just worry about you Rose. I don’t want you to be alone when I’m gone. I want you to live a happy life, full of love that you deserve. Promise me that you’ll make time for that.”

“I promise, Robert.” She smiled as his eyes drooped closed, his soft snores starting almost immediately. She set back in the chair, propping her feet up on the edge of the bed to watch him until sleep came to claim her.

#Agent Marcus Pike #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #fanfic #the mentalist

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