#i would prefer to be a little bit more indian so i could have green eyes and not have to shave

[late-nite-scholar]

Aug 10th (Day 6): Prompt Used- In Bloom / Blood 

Day 6: Blood- Thaeril doesn’t make traditional food for non-Bosmer after being stung one too many times by the reaction to it and what it’s made from. But Ralof asks if she will, and she agrees to make something for him to try. Pre/Early relationship. Trying to think of interesting cuisine for Green Pact adherent Bosmer and different ideas for food.      

(Note: the recipe used here is based on Sorpotel (Goan Pork Offal Stew), the Indian version of a Portuguese recipe, which uses blood and various offal in the way I thought would be interesting and make sense here. I’ve obviously tweaked things a bit, but kept the basic ingredients and methods of the dish. I have no idea if this version would actually work, but we’re assuming it will.)

Prompts by @tes-summer-fest

Bosmer OC x Ralof

Warnings- Blood (but we're butchering/cooking, not fighting)

Wordcount- around 2.1K

(all of my characters have first-rate RBFs. Description in alt text)

***

Ralof sat up gingerly, watching as Thaeril came in with a large, wild goat slung across her shoulders. She was grinning, her angular face lit up like a child in a sweets store.

“Look at this! We will eat like royalty tonight!” She cried. “It led me on a good chase, too. It was a good hunt.”

“Well you won’t see me complain.”

“I’ll roast it up.” She laughed, a little sadly. “I won’t do anything too… weird with it, don’t worry.”

Something twinged in Ralof’s chest. There was hurt behind her words, he was certain of it. “I’ve honestly never eaten anything made the proper Bosmer way. Would you… would you want to cook some of it the way your people would? I’d be interested to try it.”

“Really? Ohhh… I’d want to do something different than stew, then. I think I have some bone flour I could make flatbreads and then I should have enough spices to make a curry and… and that should be good?”

“That doesn’t sound ‘weird’ at all.”

“Would it make a difference if I said that the base for the sauce is blood?”

“Not at all. I’m looking forward to it.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m sure a lot of people would be strange about it, but your culture is so important to you. The least I can do is try it, right?”

Thaeril’s smile alone was worth it, but Ralof had to admit he was intrigued by the idea. There had been plenty of time to talk when he’d been more badly injured and Thaeril had stayed by his side almost constantly. She’d explained the Green Pact to him and what it meant for her people. But she’d never really made much Bosmer food, preferring to try and make things she thought he’d find more palatable. But the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to see the real thing for himself, try it for himself.

So he watched her hang the beast from its back feet and drain its blood into a large jar. Putting that to the side, she began skinning and dressing the carcass with breathtaking efficiency. In the short time they’d known each other, Ralof had very quickly noticed just how completely and staggeringly competent Thaeril was in seemingly everything she did. He didn’t just think that because she’d saved his life; it was obvious in even the smallest tasks. 

Now she was digging through her bag, pulling out a pouch and sorting through small jars of spices. Some went back into the pouch and others she put to the side. Once she had all the ones she wanted, she began adding various amounts of each one to a bowl. All of this was splashed with a little vinegar from yet another bottle and mixed into a paste. 

“That smells quite intriguing!” He pulled himself a little closer, moving carefully to not jog his wounds. 

“I didn’t go too wild. I don’t want to make your first Bosmer meal so spicy you can’t eat it.”

“I’ll be fine. It’ll be good for me.”

“Well, this is going to ferment and do its thing while I get some meat and bits cut up.” She set it to the side and stood, taking out her knife again. She moved with unhurried grace, knowing precisely what she needed. First, a  good, solid chunk of meat from the shoulder went into the pot. After that, she inspected and threw in a little fat. He could see why, the meat itself was quite lean without it. After that she was into the beast’s belly. Into the pot went the heart, a kidney, a lung, the tongue, and a chunk of the liver. After adding a little more fat, she cut everything up into more manageable pieces. To this, she added enough blood cut with water to cover everything and fill the pot most of the way. It went onto the fire, first right over, and then pulled back once it had boiled. 

“That’s going to simmer for a while.” She sat back, satisfied. “Then I’ll have to do the next steps. For now, I’ll start taking apart the rest of this and start some preserving.”

She took the haunches and set them up over the fire to roast. Other parts she began to slice up for smoking and drying. Ralof watched for a few minutes before asking. “Is there something I can do to help?”

Thaeril froze. His question had thrown her for a loop. She hadn’t had anyone ask if they could help her with anything for a long time, and it took her a moment to think and reply. 

“Well, if you can cut up pieces for drying, that would free me up to do some other things. That would probably work best. Um, thank you, for offering.”

“Of course. I might as well be useful while I’m sitting here.”

So they worked together for a while in companionable quiet. Thaeril couldn’t help but smile at the big Nord, carefully and diligently working away. It’d been a long time since she’d shared a task like this, she was far more used to doing everything for herself. 

Eventually, she had to put this out of her mind and concentrate on their meal's next steps. Draining the broth into a bowl, she put the meat and offal back over the fire until it sizzled, filling the cave with a mouthwatering smell. It even slowed Ralof’s hands as he looked over. 

“Well that smells wonderful!” He grinned. “I think I’m going to like this recipe of yours.”

Thaeril found herself looking down, paying very close attention to the bottom of the cooking pot. At least that way she could say it was the heat from the fire making her face red and not Ralof’s words. But soon enough it was time to add the spice paste, and soon an even more divine aroma wafted around them. 

She let that cook for a little while before adding the blood broth back in. A little bit of bone flour mixed with water went in as well. Just enough that it would help thicken up the broth a bit. She certainly didn’t want to ruin the dish by having the sauce too thin. Not when she was sharing it with Ralof, and this was his introduction to Bosmer food. It had to be perfect. 

Once the curry was mixed and ready, she pulled it back a little from the heat of the fire and let it simmer again. It would give her time to finish up the preservation of the rest of the carcass, and hopefully it would be done by the time food was ready. 

Taking her drying rack outside, she made another small fire beneath it. Ralof had done a fine job of getting things ready on his end, and she had a lot of meat prepared to smoke. As she arranged the strips of meat to her liking, she couldn’t help but smile. She’d acted out of instinct when she’d saved Ralof. A lone man, outnumbered, the rest of his squad dead, and fighting impossible odds. But fighting magnificently. She’d jumped in, not willing to watch this warrior die so ignobly to a treacherous blade. That was before she’d known how sweet and kind he was in addition to his prowess. 

“Thank Y’ffre I was there at that moment,” she said softly to herself. 

*** 

By the time she needed to make the flatbread, she and Ralof had gotten the rest of the goat prepared. The fire beneath the drying rack chugged out smoke at a nice pace, and Thaeril knew it was going to be good jerky. The rest of the organs were drying in the air, each strip strung onto a long line to keep good airflow between them. 

Now she put some of her bone flour into her bowl. To this, she added a couple of eggs, a little salt and honey, and enough water to mix it all. Letting it sit for a moment, she moved a skillet right over the hottest part of the fire and threw a little of the goat fat in. As the pan heated up, she rolled chunks of the bread dough into thin discs. When the fat started to sizzle in the pan, she put in the first disc of dough. They cooked quickly, and it was barely a minute before she flipped it over and then out of the pan completely. She’d made enough dough for six flatbreads, and as soon as one came out, a little more fat and another one went in. In only a few short minutes, they were all finished. 

With that done, she checked the curry one last time. Taking a quick taste, she smiled. It had turned out perfect. So at least if Ralof didn’t like it, she’d have plenty of very delicious food to eat for the next couple of days. But she really hoped that wouldn’t be the case. 

She put the thought out of her mind and looked over. “Everything’s ready. Would you like to try it?”

“I’d love to!” 

A little nervously, Thaeril filled their bowls. They sat together, each now with some curry and a flatbread. Thaeril watched with trepidation as Ralof studied and sniffed his portion curiously. Then, he tore off a piece of the bread and took a bite. With a nod, he dipped it into his bowl like a scoop. Not a small taste either, but big chunks of meat and offal and a good amount of the sauce. For a split second, her heart leapt into her throat. But only for a split second. 

Ralof's eyes went wide as he tried this first taste. Once his mouth was empty again, he laughed. "Shor's bones, that's a fine meal! The meat is so tender… most people don't know how to cook organ meat properly and it's tough but this! Gods, and the spices! And this bread! I wasn't sure how these would even work, but I can't imagine better to go with the meal. Thaeril, this is amazing! Can you make more Bosmer food from now on?" 

Thaeril stared. "Do you mean that?" 

"Of course! This is as fine a meal as anyone could ask for." He frowned a little. "Someone like me doesn't usually say things like that, do they?" 

"Yeah. Usually we don't get past the ingredients. You don't know how many times I've been told how we eat like animals, that our food is fit only for dogs. That we're disgusting cannibals." 

He reached out and gently rubbed her arm. "We men and mer aren't very good at understanding other customs, are we? I'm sorry people have told you that. When you explained everything to me, it made so much sense. And it's important to you. Even if someone doesn't like something, why be cruel?" 

Tears welled in her eyes. "How are you so nice?"

He shrugged. "I’m just me. And plenty of folks don't like my people's customs. They think we're brutish, they don't like our gods. I'd never hurt you like that. And… and this is really good." 

"Thank you." She blinked back tears as she pulled him into a gentle, one-armed hug. "And if you want, I'll cook lots more Bosmer food for you to try until you're all healed up." 

"I hope you'll make some after that, too." Ralof's face went pink the moment the words left his lips. Both had avoided talking about later, when he was healed and they would presumably part ways. He stammered a little. "I mean, I might need an escort back to Windhelm. Even healed, I'm not going to be at my best right away." 

"I've been a bodyguard before, I might be convinced to do so again." She gave him a small smile. 

"I'll keep that in mind. In the meantime, what other recipes have you got? I know we'll have this goat for a few days, but after that we'll have to think of something. Maybe by then I can help hunt?" 

So Thaeril began to explain other things they could try as Ralof listened attentively. He asked many thoughtful and respectful questions, truly curious and wanting to understand. She could feel the flush rise in her face. No one had ever taken such interest in her culture before. Not only that, but Ralof ate two helpings of the curry and bread as they talked. And for the second time that day, Thaeril thanked Y'ffre with all her heart that she'd been in the right place at the right time. 

#tesfest23 #tesfest! #tes fest 23 #the elder scrolls V #skyrim #the elder scrolls skyrim #tes v #bosmer oc #oc: thaeril #ralof #cooking #cultural cooking #sharing recipes #food #fluff #cute #tes fic

[imthediamondintherough]

Because im in a somewhat ok mood I thought I'd start with design lore and character details. I said I'd inform you @0lympian-c0uncil

So. A tip: I'm a bit of a clothes/fashion fanatic. I obsess over small details a lot. This is gonna be very evident.

Also I CAN'T DRAW. So there is no art for any of my characters.

Currently.

Moving on.

Right!

The new name for the series is now

Lore Chthonic Order

(Or LCO in abbreviation)

yeah you waited a long time and the title isn't even that good. hilarious right?

I took a lot of inspiration from much anime and existing series. (You know as authors do) so designs are heavily influence by anime characters and such.

I also said there would be other deites in this... series actually I haven't decided if this is a series or anthology (still working out that detail.)

I can't give all the characters information out (like the second protagonist) because that would be spoilery. But I got to give you guys something to make up for the delay in content right?

So let's get to infodumping!

Demeter and Persephone purposely have similar designs in terms of clothing choices. But that is when they are together and only when they are together.

Demeter's character design (as in physical appearance) is inspired by the character design for Type Moon's FATE/ Grand Order's goddess Parvati. At least when she's in her domain and not in typical "civilian wear" when she is around mortals. ...More on that later.

Typically her colors are various greens, whites, browns, and yellows because I like the idea that Demeter gives off a summer vibe (probably some unintended symbolism and hidden messages there. I'll let you work that out) so alot of her clothes are very summery and late spring based.

In LO, Demeter's clothes usually look very business like. Very formal (and kinda boring) BUT I like that choice in clothing it suits her business oriented mindset. (I also like business suits and think women look great in them.) But this is Demeter so I'll make a point to incorporate certain aspects fit for Demeter and what she stands for.

So lots of plant motifs and maybe summer fruit images on her more casual clothes and dresses. But I also want to reference the thing she's iconic for: Persephone. True the myths around Perse don't have the best light and everyone likes making it so it's a "okay" thing that happened (and depending on the version you prefer it kinda isn't...)but whatever! not relevant.

I want to hint at or allude to Persephone the daughter who (probably) ran away and the daughter she loves. In my story Persephone is only seen as her role as queen of the underworld (I think that's justified since the focus IS on all the underworld related deities...) So that means darker colors and delicate...ish appearing flowers (not the common roses. unless you mean "black" varieties and the thorns)

Demeter wants her daughter to be around her (but she's in the underworld for much of the beginning of the story so I think placing little references to her is a good idea.) Demeter herself will not wear too many dark colors and flowers are usually limited to reference her daughter Persephone. No Persephone isn't a delicate flower and in LCO Demeter recognizes this and accepts it. But she also still wishes she could keep Persephone by her side always. Hinting to her in her clothes as a sort of reminder is a good way to emphasize that.

And I like clothes. Like I really like writing about them so brace yourself.

Back to my first point Demeter's physical description design is based on Fate Grand Order's Indian goddess Parvati.

Incidentally Parvati is a mother like figure and in this story Demeter ends up a mother like figure to multiple people so is anyone surprised?

As for normal civilian wear-- well it's just what she wears when she is around a large number of mortals. Usually this is a dress or suit with floral details (or reminders of Persephone). And I think having suits have lots of references to Persephone fits because it's like... Persephone means business in both aspects of her role. And Demeter wants to follow that in her own way so while she can't ask Persephone to wear suits (though she's positive her daughter would look wonderful in them) she wears them herself as a way of hinting how proud she is that Persephone is her own person.

When Persephone is around and not stopping by to drop off a gift she wears clothes similar to her mother in terms of style and colors. Mostly to reference where she currently is. But being the goddess of spring she wears lots more flowers. As per request of Demeter to feel like the old days they are normally large flowers or flowers that would require a lot of... Sun....

Although on occasion, Persephone pops up randomly (which is how we have warm days in winter) usually just to say hi or let one of her children speak to their grandmother or she's doing a favor for another goddess then she still wears dark colors with minor or or more subtle hints to flowers.

#demeter fic #demeter

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part I (x reader insert)

Summary: Our favorite couple has some catching up to do.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (or xOC)

Category: hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings/Includes: descriptions of Mexico and prison; they have a sleepover, but it’s just talking and sleeping 🥰

Word count: 3.5k

a/n: Here we go!!!!! We’re picking up from right where we left off in tmsidk part X.

Song Rec: The Luckiest by Ben Folds

Series Masterlist

———

“Do you— would you want to— come upstairs?” he asked.

Spencer stood in front of her, unsure of what to do with his hands. Y/N was absolutely radiant— bathed in the very last of the golden daylight and more beautiful than he even remembered. All he wanted to do was hug her again and never let go.

She shook her head, and he tried not to instantly deflate. “I have to feed Roald.” She smiled a little at him and restarted his heart. “But would you want to come over? We could order somethi—”

“Yes— yes.” She let out a quiet laugh at his eagerness, and he wanted to hear that sound every day for the rest of his life. “Can I— I just want to drop this stuff off and change, and then I’ll, um.” He gestured vaguely to her. “Should I drive you or do you want to walk or I can just— meet you? Whatever— whatever you want.”

“I’m gonna head back now and take care of Roald. Take your time, and just— well, here.” She held out her hand. “I’ll put my number in your phone, and you can just text me when you’re on your way.”

He fumbled the phone out of his pocket, placed it into her outstretched hand, and nearly vibrated with the way her fingers brushed over his. She stared at the unsophisticated phone in her hand. “You weren’t kidding about the technology thing, huh?”

He ran a hand down the back of his neck and shrugged. “I prefer to keep things simple.”

“I haven’t seen a T9 keyboard since I was in high school. This is a relic,” she laughed and then gave him a soft smile. “And… very you.”

He watched her fingers as she pressed along the tiny keys, still sort of in shock that she was here, that he was getting a second chance, that she wanted to do this with him. She handed the phone back to him and then stuffed her hands in her pockets. “So, I’ll see you in a little bit?”

He nodded and gave her his best smile. She stepped forward into his space, and his eyes went a little wide as she leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. She stepped back with a smile, then waved and turned on her heel headed to her car.

He stood rooted to the spot until she had disappeared from view, then let out a long breath and looked down at the small screen of his phone at her contact information. His lips twitched at the name she’d given herself.

Miss Honey <3

…

Forty five minutes later, Spencer smoothed down the front of his cardigan and blew out a sigh. He’d spent five of those minutes reveling in the magic that was Y/N, and the other forty convincing himself that she’d already changed her mind. But he was a man in love, and so he was standing in front of her building, willing himself to press her buzzer.

He was jolted out of his stupor by the buzzing of his phone. He pulled the device from his pocket and saw her name on the tiny screen, hesitating only a moment before pressing the button to answer. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He could hear her smile through the tinny speaker, and it immediately set him at ease. “I was just checking to make sure you remembered where you were going.”

“Yeah, I— I’m outside now, actually,” he confirmed.

“Oh, great! I’ll buzz you up.”

The door buzzed open, and Spencer pocketed his phone, stepping into the small foyer. He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants as he made his way to the staircase. He had barely taken the first step when she called, “It’s the third floor!”

He barely resisted the urge to take the stairs two at a time. When he reached the landing of the third floor, she was standing in the doorway in a purple sweatshirt, sweatpants, and fuzzy socks with dragons on them. He couldn’t help but grin.

“Hey.” She returned his smile. “Come on in.” She moved aside and waved him into her apartment.

He stepped over the threshold, and she closed the door behind him. “I can take your coat. Feel free to leave your shoes there. Roald will be in hiding for the next half hour or so,” she informed him.

He shrugged out of his coat and handed it to her, looking briefly around the tidy space. The walls of her living room were a calming mint green, adorned with plenty of art and photographs. Her couch was a blush pink velvet, exactly as soft as she was.

“Okay, I’m starving,” she admitted, turning to hang his coat in the coat closet. “We can order pizza, Indian, Thai— any preference?”

He shook his head. “No, whatever you want.”

She closed the closet door and cocked an eyebrow. “So if I wanted to order a huge pizza with extra cheese, you’d be cool with that?”

“Sure, absolutely,” he nodded.

She tilted her head. “Even with your dairy thing?”

He was surprised that she even remembered such a tiny detail from all those months ago, and his heart would have fluttered if he wasn’t so focused on making as few waves as possible. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d made a mistake letting him back in, and he didn’t want to do anything that would cause her to rethink her decision. “Well, it’s— it’s just a sensitivity, not a true allergy. Although it’s gotten a bit worse in recent years. But really, whatever you want to do is fine.”

He suddenly struggled to make eye contact, feeling overwhelmingly awkward and out of place. Now that he was here in her apartment, it was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped. He cracked the knuckles on each finger as he waited for it. She let out a small sigh, and he braced himself for impact.

“Why don’t you come sit?”

Her voice was quiet, and then her hand on his arm was soft, and she was leading him to the couch and sitting down next to him. She kept some distance between them, placed her hands in her lap, and then she was still for a long moment. He could feel her eyes on him, but he wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t know if she wanted him to say anything at all.

“You know I forgive you, right?” The question was tentative. He met her eyes, and he didn’t see the regret or pity that he expected. There was something else there; something he couldn’t quite decipher. “Because I do. Forgive you. You apologized, and you meant it, and you allowed me space and time to process. And that’s— that’s all I could have asked for.”

As seemed to always be the case, the task of articulating what he was feeling began to crush him under its weight. The words were there, but he couldn’t get the order right. If it were anyone else, he would have just evaded the conversation entirely. But he’d promised her that he would try. After everything he’d put her through, she deserved that much.

He breathed in through his nose, expelling it in a sigh. “I’ve just— I’ve spent the last month thinking about this— about you— pretty much exclusively,” he admitted, staring at his hands. “And I’m just realizing that I never really… allowed myself to think about what would happen next, because I wasn’t sure that this would happen at all.” He gestured between them and then looked at her. “And now I’m here— with you, and I just— it’s…” He let out a sigh.

“Doesn’t live up to expectations?” she prompted.

His eyes went wide, and he moved closer to her on the couch. “No— god, no.” He instinctively reached for her hand, felt that electricity again when she allowed him to lace their fingers together. He was already making a mess of things. “You always exceed expectations.” He shook his head, and she squeezed his hand. “I just— I don’t… I don’t wanna mess this up.”

She covered their intertwined fingers with her other hand, rubbed her thumb along his. “I don’t think you will. Something tells me you don’t typically make the same mistake twice,” she inferred.

He laughed a little at that, and she gave him a sweet smile, and then she said, “So, no pizza. How about Indian?”

…

They were just cleaning up the last of the take out containers when Roald made his way out of Y/N’s bedroom.

“There he is! Hey, buddy,” she cooed, leaning down to give Roald a quick pet. She gave Spencer a sheepish smile. “He takes a while to warm up to new faces, so don’t be offended if he’s not—”

She was stopped mid-sentence by Roald’s decision to make a beeline for him. The cat stopped to give a cursory sniff before weaving between Spencer’s legs, purring loud enough that they could both hear it. Her mouth dropped open a bit as he leaned down to scratch between Roald’s ears.

“He— he is never that friendly,” she said incredulously. “There really is something about you, Dr. Reid.”

He looked up at her with a smile. “I’m just glad he approves. Would have been kind of awkward otherwise.”

“He’s a very good judge of character, so that bodes well for you,” she confirmed.

“Oh yeah?” Spencer scratched underneath Roald’s chin, grinning at the contented cat. He brought his gaze back to her, standing back to his full height when he realized she’d moved… a lot closer. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he watched her eyes track the motion.

“Yeah.”

He thought back to that night nearly two months ago, the way his mouth had verged on violent when she’d kissed him. He hated that their first kiss was tainted with his foolishness, that he’d marred that memory for them both. He couldn’t take it back, and he wasn’t certain that she wanted to kiss him now, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please,” she breathed.

He brought his hands to her face and used a gentle grip to pull her in. She rested her warm palms against his waist and let her fingers dig in, holding herself steady as his lips met hers.

He kept the kiss as soft as she deserved, opening his mouth to let her in but letting her lead and take him wherever she wanted to go. Her hands slid around to his back, and she tugged him in closer. He left one hand cradling her face but moved the other to the small of her back and pulled her flush against him.

She huffed out a tiny breath against his mouth, her lips turning up in a smile that he could feel in his toes. She brought one hand up to his jaw, rubbed her thumb across his cheek and then wound her fingers into his hair. She tangled them in his curls and tugged just enough to break the kiss, pressing their foreheads together with a sigh.

“If it’s all the same to you, I think I’m just gonna wipe our first kiss from my memory and replace it with that one,” she murmured.

“I’m very much on board with this rewrite,” he agreed.

“Excellent.” She used the hand in his hair to pull him forward into another quick kiss. Roald made his presence known at their feet with a loud meow, pulling a laugh from both of them.

They de-tangled themselves from each other, and she ran a hand through her hair. “It’s getting late.” He nodded in agreement, although he never wanted this night to end. And then she continued, “Do you wanna, um— do you wanna stay the night? I’m sure I can find some comfy clothes that’ll fit you.”

He’d been a ship on a turbulent sea for the past two months, just barely staying afloat at times. It had been heart wrenching and nerve wracking and terrifying— and all of his own doing. And in one night, she’d anchored his vessel amongst the crashing waves. A solution kit, a hug, forgiveness, a kiss, and now this.

His racing mind came to a standstill. The near constant noise was quieted. The turbulent sea became calm, still waters.

“I’d really, really like that.”

…

Spencer ended up in an XXL t-shirt from a school fundraiser and a pair of stretchy bike shorts. Y/N had managed to scrounge up a new toothbrush from the back of the cabinet, and they brushed their teeth together with foamy smiles in the bathroom mirror.

It had taken very little convincing for Spencer to agree to share the bed. Y/N climbed in under the covers, settling back against the pillows and turning down the duvet for him to join her. He held up one finger and disappeared out into the living room, returning a minute later with the solution kit in hand. He moved to the bed, sliding in between the soft sheets and pulling up the duvet.

He leaned back against the pillows and turned toward her, opening the box. “This is the most incredible thing anyone has ever done for me,” he admitted. “Can you, um— explain them to me? Some of them I figured out, but others— well, I just want to hear you, really.”

She scooted closer to him and leaned over to look in the box. “The first few are pretty self-explanatory. This one,” she said, pulling out a picture of her with her hands over her heart and belly, “is taking deep breaths until you’re calm and ready to try again. This one is reading a favorite book— which I know will take you about five minutes,” she joked.

She retrieved the card with the clip art book, and then the one behind it with a pencil and paper. “You can try to write down the difficult thoughts and feelings to get them out of your headspace.” The next card had a picture of an old rotary phone. “Hmmm, almost a match to the dinosaur phone you actually have,” she teased. “But it’s an option to call someone. Could be your mom, or a friend, or—”

“Or you? Could I call you?”

She looked up to find his eyes on her and smiled. “Yeah. You can call me, too.” She pressed a soft kiss to his mouth, and— not for the first time that night— he could not believe how lucky he was.

She drew back to pull out the next card: a clip art rendering of a desktop computer. “Oh! This one is for researching something. I know you’ve got a seemingly endless encyclopedia of knowledge up there,” she tapped on his temple, “but there’s always something new to learn. And teaching yourself something can help you feel capable in moments where you’re feeling— a little helpless.”

There was also a small wooden puzzle cube in the box. She took it from the box and held it up in front of them. “I know your IQ will probably solve this thing in fifteen seconds, but at least it’ll be a nice fidget toy,” she laughed.

The last card in the box was a picture of a timer. “This one might seem kind of dumb, but sometimes it helps me to set a timer to remind myself that feeling shitty is a temporary state of being.” She held the card between her fingers and shrugged. “Even if I’m still feeling less than great after the timer goes off, it usually gives me the boost I need to move forward.”

She gathered all the cards in her hands, shuffling them and then placing them back in the box. “You can add your own options as you think of them. This was just a starter set.”

He closed the lid of the box and set it on the bed between them. He reached for her hand, and she immediately threaded their fingers together. He rubbed his thumb along her impossibly soft skin and took a deep breath.

“The timer isn’t dumb. I, um— I did something similar in prison.” She squeezed his hand. “I kept track of the— the days on this little spot on the wall. Every time it felt like I couldn’t take another day, I’d count the marks and remind myself that I— that I’d survived that long. That I could make it another day.”

He went quiet, and Y/N sat up a little in bed, brushed her free hand over his hair. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I want to.” It wasn’t a lie. He wanted to talk to her about it. He wanted to talk to her about everything. He wanted to let her into the shadowy corners of his mind that he kept from everyone else.

“If you’re sure, then I’m right here.” She pulled their intertwined fingers into her lap and leaned over to press a kiss to his shoulder.

When she pulled back, he let out a long breath. He watched her thumb as it traced an unwavering line across the back of his hand. “I was, um— I was in Mexico getting an experimental Alzheimer’s drug for my mom. I’d been going down there for a few months, and it wasn’t ideal, but the medication really seemed to be helping her. And I was just— I was desperate. Desperate for anything that would give me more time with her. More lucid, meaningful time, you know?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

“It wasn’t the, uh— drug that got me arrested,” he admitted. “There was an unsub— one of the serial killers that we put away a few years ago— a psychopathic, narcissistic hitwoman who had this— I don’t know, vendetta against me, I guess. She, um— she manipulated another woman into drugging me and framing me for the murder of the doctor I was getting the medication from.”

He could feel her eyes on him, and he drew his brows together. “I know the— the whole thing sounds completely absurd— fictional even,” he admitted. “She used a mix of drugs called sevoflurane and scopolamine to trigger dissociation and hallucination, which made it really— um... For a long time, I couldn’t tell which of my memories were real and which were drug-induced delusions.”

He focused on the motion of her thumb against his skin. “The team got me out of the prison in Mexico, but because I went against FBI protocol when I crossed the border, the Bureau wouldn’t fund my legal representation here. Emily hired a great lawyer, but the judge was less than sympathetic. And it really, um— snowballed from there.”

He took a deep breath. “I was sent to Millburn, which is a maximum security prison, and then I didn’t get the protective custody detail, so I was in general population, but I didn’t want to hurt people or move drugs, so I got the shit kicked out of me for a while, and then my friend Luis was killed in front of me, and I—”

Spencer didn’t realize he was crying until Y/N’s hands were on his face, wiping the tears before pulling him into her arms. “A-and then I poisoned the drugs, which just ended up hurting a bunch of people who didn’t deserve to get hurt. And then I got outed as an agent, and my mom got abducted, and I stabbed myself to get put in solitary, but I wasn’t safe there either, and I really thought... I was sure I was going to die there.”

He wrapped his arms around her middle and tucked his face into her shoulder as the hurricane of his agony swirled and raged and then swept out as quickly as it rolled in. She soothed his cries and held him against her, never rushing or shushing him. Eventually, his weeping dwindled to quiet sniffles, his heaving breaths faded to drawn sighs. She kept him anchored through all of it, rocking him gently from side to side and calming his shattered frame.

When he finally quieted, she released him and pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. His chest tightened at her tear-stained cheeks, and he brought his hands up to wipe at them uselessly. When his hands fell back to his lap, she sniffled a little before taking a deep breath, releasing it on a shaky sigh.

“The choices you made kept you alive, Spencer. They were—  impossible, horrific choices that I’m sure just—” She shook her head, searching for the right words. “I’m sure the weight of the guilt and grief has to be unbearable sometimes,” she surmised. “And there’s nothing I can say that will make that any less true.”

She cupped his face in her hands, swiping at the fresh tears with her thumbs. “But I’m... I’m so selfishly thankful for every choice you made. Because it was the perfect set of decisions in that it brought you here. To me…” The tears tracked hot down her cheeks, and she took a shaky breath. “And I feel so unbelievably lucky and so incredibly grateful to have you.”

He had her wrapped up in his arms before she’d even finished the sentence. “I never believed in luck,” he mused. He pressed a kiss into her hair and closed his eyes. “I’m still not sure if I do. But I can tell you that I’m the luckiest.”

———

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#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #homoose writes #lhalc #tmsidk

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #13

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Ramen Story

The voice of the owner as he said “welcome” turned into a mutter at the end, fading away. I could understand how he felt. With a light, cut-and-sew jacket draped over him, a blond, blue-eyed man had come inside, standing behind another man who quite literally had the air of a student. It wouldn’t be unreasonable to wonder if he was an actor. But we were just a party of two.

“Two people,” I indicated with a peace sign. We were guided to a table seat. There were no other people around. While we were at it, we gave them the meal tickets that we had bought from the vending machine outside. A couple of negi ramen.

“What a surprise. There’s always a long queue for this shop. So that’s how shops are like right after they open in a student district?”

In this shop, currently reserved to our exclusive use, I talked without restraint about all sorts of things – about the layout of the classroom building in my campus, about the hideout-like garden in the university’s premises, about my friends and even about my teachers. The shop’s atmosphere did that to me. The man who could well be the best listener in the world let me talk as much as I wanted, occasionally making an exasperated face.

“Here, sorry for the wait. It’s hot, so be careful.”

“Thank you, thank you.”

“You too, Mr. Foreigner. This is ‘hot’.”

As Richard replied with a “thank you, madam”, the old lady laughed fickly.

Now for the ramen.

Its soup was salt-based, warm steam wafting from it. That being said, it wasn’t as if there was anything special about it. We hadn’t added any ingredients, so it was a simple one. Fermented bamboo shoots, dried seaweed, fish cake and a large helping of green onions.

We silently put our hands together to thank for the meal, taking the chopsticks and parting them with a snap. I took the dwindled noodles, then opened my mouth wide and filled it with them. I tried to make as little noise as possible.

Delicious.

This shop’s ramen was simple, but it was a strong ally for a student’s cold pockets and quick-to-get-hungry stomach. It stayed steadily in your belly, resolutely reminding you for about three hours that you had eaten ramen today. And above all else, the animalistic joy of eating without thinking was more irreplaceable than anything else. Tasty food was great.

By the moment I was done with my very-IQ-lacking monologue of “thank you, o ramen; o ramen, thank you”, there was only a little bit left of the contents of my bowl. Still eating the green onion ramen without a sound, Richard looked at me with upturned eyes from his bended posture. Those blue eyes made me seriously wonder if there weren’t gemstones inserted in them.

“Hey, you got a moment?”

“As you wish. Whatever you please.”

When I prefaced it with, “This is serious talk – super, super serious talk”, he made a face that screamed, “You’re being too long-winded”, so I went straight to the point.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come eat ramen with me.”

I hadn’t imagined that the day would come when I could eat a bowl of ramen for 450 yen at a historical, cozy ramen shop in the student town with this beautiful man who usually only wore suits. I hadn’t at all. Even now, another side of me was still tilting his neck somewhere within my mind, wondering about “how things came to this”.

Ever since around the time I had started working part-time in Ginza, I had no sense of reality. Not even about the fact that I would later be going to Sri Lanka. No, of course, I was fully ready and had a Visa, so I was in a phase where all I had left to do was get on the plane and I was making the oh-so-busy Richard help me out with that, but...

Richard took a sip of the salt-based soup with the china spoon, then glanced at me. “So you were not expecting anything from me, is that it?”

“No way. On the contrary.”

When I said that I just didn’t think he would give me the OK, Richard’s lips curved in the shape of an arc, and after looking for napkins on the table, he realized that there weren’t any, so he took a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his mouth.

“I value the accuracy of your palate. It is obvious that, if you have a shop you like, I would want to try eating there.”

“Thank you. And for remembering about it too.”

Soon after I had started working part-time, I was introduced to a stone called chrysoprase. I once laughed my butt off when I learned that the etymology of the fresh green-colored stone included the meaning of “leek” or “green onion”. The topic then changed into ramen, and we, the shopkeeper and part-timer who subtly had not yet thrown off reserve with each other, talked about liking green onion ramen, what kinds of toppings we preferred, and other such things. I had kind of thought that “it’d be nice to go have ramen with this guy someday”. Back then, to me, Richard was someone as far-off as the moon and stars that shone in outer space. Of course, he was still as resplendent as the moon and stars even now, but he didn’t feel as distant.

Once I was done drinking the soup up to it’s last drop, I heaved a small sigh. “That was delicious. Last time eating Japanese ramen and this one for a while, huh.”

“How about putting instant ramen in your suitcase?”

“I ain’t used to making those. I’m the type that goes out to eat ramen rather than making instant ones. But there’s curry roux inside. Weird story, isn’t it? I’m going to a curry culture zone, yet I’m taking curry with me.”

“Analyzing Indian and Sri Lankan curry by Japanese curry standards can cause serious stomach problems. Beware.”

I puffed out my chest, saying that I had properly prepared myself for this because he had already told me about it before, to which the beautiful man gave a little sigh.

“May I also talk about a truly serious topic?”

When I told him that didn’t mind it at all and that I wanted to hear it, Richard looked at my face directly. It made me nervous. What was he going to tell me, I wondered.

“I did not think that you would actually invite me out for ramen.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I honestly did not.”

“Why?”

As I kept on tilting my neck at that sentence, which you wouldn’t think would come from someone like him – who looked like just breathing was enough for him to get invited to eat out –, Richard spoke to me reticently. He told me that people were quick to come towards him, but there were also those who surrounded him from a distance, watching him without trying to shorten the distance between him and themselves. So this kind of thing also happened?

Looking back, I was also from the keep-a-distance group at first. But I sucked at giving up, and whenever something that made me happy happened, I would be overjoyed no matter how many times I remembered about it, so every time I recalled the chrysoprase talk, I would find myself thinking that I should invite him out for ramen. It just so happened that the desire for this “someday” had amplified as the number of times that I thought about it increased, and I had finally voiced it this spring.

The shop was tiny and had a bit of a mysterious scent, but it was truly delicious. It would be closing this spring. I was concerned about what to do if he declined it with an awkward face, but the response I got after speaking up was a “When will it be?” without a moment’s delay.

“Was it okay to have invited you?”

“What do you think?”

“Well, I was just thinking I was glad that I invited you, but...”

The reply was a short-range smile. That slightly tired face with no sense of uneasiness to it was bad for the heart. But I was gonna get used to it. I had to.

“Still, was it really all right? That I was the one you had a meal with for the last time at a shop that you have fond memories of, I mean. Would it not have been better to do so with the friends that you always ate with?” Richard asked.

Hmm. So he was gonna bring that up, huh?

“Well, well, thank you very much for your superb consideration. But I’m glad it was with you.”

“Is that so?”

“I’m glad it was with you. Not anyone else; with you.”

I had learned many lessons even in just four years of university, such as that things were shifting, everything kept changing over and over, the green onion ramen shop would be gone, I would be leaving for Sri Lanka in the near future and there was no telling how my life was going to be from now on. But this jeweler was a man who knew very well how to cherish a memory.

Only to people like that did I entrust the things I didn’t want to forget.

Bidding a courteous farewell to the elderly shopkeeper and old lady employee, we exited the shop. Cars rushed on the Yasukuni Avenue. Kasaba during holidays was so quiet that it felt like a different world. As the wind softly blew, the cherry trees planted along the street shook and their pale pink petals scattered about.

“That was delicious, huh~. You got any plans for later?”

“I am going to help Saul with chores. We are not boorish enough to engage in business talk after just eating ramen.”

I stole a peek at his profile as he started chewing on a mint gum. The beautiful man brushed cherry blossom petals off his golden hair. He offered me one of the white gums, asking if I wanted to eat it.

I probably wouldn’t forget this sight. Even if that ramen shop was gone, even if my address was no longer in Tokyo.

Richard tilted his head a little, as I was still staring at his face even after accepting the gum. “Anything the matter?”

“Aah, sorry. Your beauty was like you’ve come from another world, so I spaced out.”

I then changed the topic, saying I was going to think about what to have for dinner or something. There were still lots of shops that I wanted to visit while I was still in Japan, though they were all set-meal and chain ones. I didn’t think I was able to hide my melancholy, but he’d probably act like he didn’t see anything. I was grateful for that.

In the middle of our walk to the train station, I looked back at the cityscape one last time and wordlessly offered a moment of silence to it.

Thank you for everything; I’m off!

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #housekishou richard #jeweler richard #the case files of jeweler richard #nakata seigi #richard ranashinghe de vulpian #richard ranashinha de vulpian #richard #jr short story collection #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #novel #my translation

[everythingthemoontouches]

If your oracle game still open, can i join

A fact about me is I turn my emotions into anger

Hii

What does your heart and mind say?

If anger is a problem you face, root Chakra and heart Chakra meditations can really help balance rage.

The SEA Beacon Fairy looks like that one legendary figure who could either show you your highest potential or trick you into doom. In netflix's cursed, there's this part where a trickster spirit tricks Morgana, trying to poison her heart by taking on the form of her dead girlfriend's spirit. So when people come to you to snitch on others , or just give you general guidance, be wary and question their motives. There could be a tendency to act out in a fit of rage. This kind of intuitive behaviour is good and prized in battle or quick moving career fields / sports but it can also be prone to manipulative elements. People with their own agenda could use this against you to get to their end goal.

I'm not saying, not to take guidance, just to have a questioning spirit. Why do you say that? What could this person wnat? What would happen if I did this VS that? Basically you know how Aries can be hot-headed and Libra can tend to oscillate between the possible solutions? All I ask is for you to try the balance between action and deliberation.

Don't let Lightening, thunder, storm, adverse situations trick you into doing something you'd regret. Take deep breaths. Do some yoga - pranayam, or breathing exercises to be specific. If you decide to do yogic breathing, please find a reliable source, preferable an Indian channel. Ive come across some videos that were terribly ill informed. Here, in India, we trust Baba Ramdevs yoga guides.

Or, you could just trust your intuition. Listen to your body. Whatever it is your gifts are, I believe you are ready to share them with the world. The world needs more of what you have to offer - your unique thoughts, ideas, stories, wisdom, knowledge, psychic senses, healing abilities, gardening skills, divinatory talents, whatever it is that you have been practicing in secret, or have taken a break from for fear if not being good enoug, are irreplaceably valuable.

The world would thank you for sharing them.

Look how beautiful the fairy is. Hidden away in the forest. She holds deadly knowledge. The shade of green and vibrant blue along with the hits of red tell me there is something really potent about her. If you practice witchcraft, I feel that you could come from an ancestor who had great powers? There's something raw, ancient, and esoteric about this.

I feel called to tell you to stop seeking guidance and do your own thing. You don't need me or anyone else to read for you 😂💖 I'm happy to if you wanna consult for a second opinion but you're good to sail on your own, too

See and visualize a world where green things grow, and the 🍄🪴🌷Fairy of the Green World🌷🪴🐞 will know that nature is safe while there are ones such as you in this world.

She symbolizes the life force of the Green World. None of us would exist if plants didn't synthesize the oxygen we breathe or the food we ingest. It's time to stop being wasteful, plate what you can eat and eat all that is on your plate.

Reduce, reuse, recycle.

Waste not want not.

She can be seen as the messiah of dropping, dying plants and forests the world over -home gardens, kitchen plants included alongside forests and glens.

She does a little happy dance everytime someone gives energy to this realm-every little bit helps nurture the plants, which are very tired. Fewer and fewer plants and trees having to cater to an ever growing human population. (my own sentiment : We're almost parasitic at this point ugh.) she's a little overwhelmed and she calls for a hero to join the cause.

Will you answer the call?

Just, try to help, in whatever little way you can.

Find a forest, or a Grove of tress, or picture a faerie ring of mushrooms, somewhere thy speaks to your soul - perhaps a farm you visited / grew up near - and sit with her for a while. When she breathes her messages through the leaves and whispers the words of wisdom into your ears, you will know the right place and time to devote this sacred donation of time and energy. They thank you in advance. The fairies will be sure to help you in return (hohum, this sounds like a deal or a soul pact. Please be careful when working with the fae)

A few pots around the house could help.

I know there are some food and products that take up way too much farming land to produce. Try to avoid buying or paying for things that involve animal or plant cruelty as much as you can. Bring your business to environmentally conscious brands.

Why use a straw when a glass will do?

Have you considered going vegan or vegetarian at some recently? Eat organic, try to minimize electricity wastage, invest in solar heater. Detox. Live off the grid if that's feasible. It's time for growth, for abundance and to give back to the land. Shed be pleased to know there are greenery angels out there, telling people to be considerate of the planet we live on. She's all for increased forest cover and donating to green charities.

Please champion for greener ways of living, in your home, neighborhood, community. Do your bit. The world needs more climate change, green warriors.

You might want to look up Goddess Brigid

What are ways in which you can be more self sustainable?

#Green fairy #Sustainability #Environment consciousness #Global warming #Plants #Plant a tree #Gardens #Psychic intuition #Ancestors #Oracle asks #Astro game #Oracle cards #Tarot readings #Pac #44 #Angel numbers #Herbalism #Paganism #All for a cause #Save planet earth #Forests are dying #Save the Amazon #Cursed #Heart chakra #Organic #Vegan #Farm #Reduce recycle reuse #Environmental consciousness

[pbandjesse]

Thankfully my arm and chest does not hurt as much as yesterday. I do have a bit of a sour feeling in my stomach though and I am very tired. But it wasn't a bad day. It just wasn't what I had planned.

I didn't sleep to bad last night but I had trouble staying asleep. I woke up with my alarm at 8 and was washed and dressed before 830. I texted Kim that I was ready to get her cat whenever she was ready. My plan was to eat a little breakfast and once I had the cat I would lay back down for a bit.

This did not happen the way I hoped. The person redoing Kim's tub was late. So she didn't end up coming down until closer to 1030. Which would have been fine if I knew that and could have laid down. But instead I was stuck in a waiting mode.

So I was slightly salty. But I did get my knitting done. And I tried to just feel alright with the way the day was going.

Kim brought Inti, her cat that I gave her, her dog Kia, and her two snakes. And honestly it was a fun way to spend most of the day.

We chatted and tried to keep all the animals calm. Inti is very very vocal and Sweetp was very stressed with having another cat around. But it was still fun.

We talked about camping and the wedding and we both worked on some art. I got a lot done for my embroidery for the day and tried to make it really detailed. Sweetp is a hard color but I wanted to make a cat sort of like him. At least inspired by. And I'm really happy with it!

We would spend a few hours having out. And I was a little stressed because I prefer my own company. But I really like Kim so it's all good. And she is fun to hang out with.

At 230 I walked over to the nursery to give them almost all the paperwork. They had the notary there today so I got to get that handled and I enjoyed talking to Mary. Everyone seems great so far. I'm excited to work there. A little nervous. But mostly excited.

I made a pit stop at Walgreens for a few small things. And headed home. I got very overheated be sure the heat was very high in here. Kim and animals were still there. She was painting. But soon she would pack up and head out and I got to be alone again.

I would play Pokemon until James got home. They got right to making us naan and a new type of Indian food. That was almost like grits. It was fun and bright green.

I started not feeling so great though. I laid in bed for a bit. And then went to work in the studio. I finished my embroidery. And started my next stamp. I was able to actually get more carving blocks. So I'm really excited about that. Those are primarily for the workshop at the end of the month. But it was excellent that I was able to find them after the place I bought them before ceased to carry them.

I got a shower and washed my hair and now I am in bed. Trying to settle my belly. I think I am going to go get something to drink and try to sleep. I am working at the museum tomorrow and then I'm going to try to get this work release form filled out at the patient first. Which makes me nervous but it's fine. I have done it once and it was fine. I am mostly nervous about being weighed because it always upsets me no matter how good I feel about myself. Numbers mess with my head.

I hope you all have a good night's sleep. Take care of yourselves. Goodnight!

[iwannaholdyoutight-]

The way to Emmeline and the story of how Pierrot fell in love with Columbine

Summary: a dead sunflower field,  a masquerade ball and a love spell. Witch!H with Fairy!reader. 

Word count: around 6k

A/N: This is the first part of my contribuation to @stellarboystyles 3 year celebration. My thrope is masquerade ball.. Btw this is witch!harry with fairy!reader that is an OC because I ended up picturing her in certein way and it became part of the plot (the color of her hair). But this is a very soft story that made me feel very soft while creating this magic world. 

Somewhere, right at the rainbows end, you will find yourself walking through the colorful path to Emmeline. 

A land where woodland creatures could live without fear of the human race. You see... There was a time where humans and magical beings lived together. But prejudice and fear of the unknown and powerful made people start to hurt those with glitter blood. 

That’s when all those different creatures ran away  and ended up together. 

As soon as you find yourself in Emmeline, you will find a little cottage made out of wood. That’s where all the witches and warlocks live, or, Rhiannon’s daughters and sons, as they like to call themselves. For you to be a witch, you have to be born from a family of witches or fall in love with one. Then a bit of their power will pass to you. 

Most witches prefer a life of a Gypsy, never stopping in one place. But the few who like to have a place to call home, they choose Emmeline. 

If you walk  further into the woods you will find yourself meeting the ones who are born from nature: the fairies. 

There are different types of fairies: the ones who are born from flowers, others are born from mushrooms and others from butterflies. 

The ones who germinated from a seed will have the gift of nature and poetry. They can grow and heal plants and turn anything into something beautiful. They are always colorful. Nature is their mother, so they all consider each other sister. 

The ones who are born from mushrooms, have the power of colors and creativity. Music and dancing are always present in their life. Also, they make a l good tea that will make you see the world even prettier and feel like every single thing is more than it meets the eye. 

And, last but not least, there are the ones who are born from a cocoon, kindly called the butterfly daughters. They can fly and that is the reason why they never actually are around.

But that night they were all going to be together because of the masquerade ball in celebration of the magic new year: October 31st, halloween night They celebrate their union, drink and dance all night with enchanted masks that make people not see them and yes the character they decided to dress as. It’s a night of love and friendship because there is no bad blood between fairies and witches.

Except two. 

“OUCH DO YOU HAVE TO BE SUCH AN ASS?” Screamed the sweet yet scary voice of Maya that was floating  across the room without anyone to help her 

“Well you said you needed a witch to help you float the yellow lights to the ceiling… I have no problem if you have no power” 

Harry was lying on the floor, enjoying the view of the fairy, using his hands to make her move around the ceiling, together with the little golden stars. Her pink curly hair was all around, with gigant brown eyes staring at him with horror. 

“I went to Stevie asking for help because I DO have fairy powers that I was born with it” 

And with that she shut Harry’s smile down. Him and Maya were enemies at first sight. She was raised in Emmeline, born from a beautiful pink gardenia that matches her hair. Raised together with all the flowerchilds and Harry was a witch, a very resentful one when it comes to the matter that he wasn’t a “pure blood”: back in the 1500s he kissed a witch during a ball and her power was transferred during the kiss, she didn’t want to be an immortal anymore. But it wasn’t till the end of the millenium - the year was 1994- that Harry found the Emmelime city. Now he was one of Rhiannon’s sons and was very close to one of the eldest witches: Stevie. 

She didn’t have a problem with him, only knowing him by name and by the enamored  whispers from everyone: “he is british”, “he has green eyes”, “he is so pretty you should go by his little house, he is very receptive”. But it was only his third day in the little village when he ruined one of her plants while high thanks to the tea the mushroom a fairy gave him. He fell off the tree right on top of the new plantation of sunflowers she was rising with her power: her first BIG plantation. 

Harry tried for days to apologize: with food, with music, with potions that would make her feel all glittery inside. And her answer was always the same: can you make my sunflowers grown again? And sadly the answer was always no. 

26 years later he sort of learned how to hate her - even if he always thought she was beautiful and kind, she was never nice to him and it burned his feelings. Being rejected from all the clans his whole witch life because he wasn’t a “pure” one made him resentful. 

And Maya was never able to plant sunflowers again. Every spell, every potion, every prayer. She even tried to plant the seeds with the help of her sister Blanca - a sunflower child: but no success. 

So she hated him with all of her pink glittery heart. 

Harry got lost daydreaming about their story of hate at first sight from Mayas point of view that he forgot about the girl so he just shook his left hand in a circle then closed his fingers in a fist and gave a little whistle and the fairy fell to the ground. 

“Did you have to be so vile? I could have died” 

“You’re an immortal, darling, you can’t die” 

“I could have been hurt and then I would miss the ball” 

“I’m not that heartless, I would make you a potion to fix whatever bone you had broken” he looked at the girl sitting on the floor with a frown in her face “you need any help getting up?” Harry asked with such a sweet voice she almost couldn’t believe he could be so... soft.

“I can get up... what I need is for you to be serious for once in your life and put those damn starry lights I made floating all around otherwise I’ll…” 

“You’ll what...call my mom? She has been dead for over 500 years. But sure be my guess she is buried in the small cemetery from my hometown” 

“You know what? Fuck you” 

She was storming off the gigantic room the masquerade ball would be taking place later tonight when he called her name, the pink haired girl looked back at the the tall man wearing a white tunic with Indian pants. He gave a small smile, snapping his fingers and in less than 5 seconds all the lights she had on the floor were up in the ceiling, making it look like it was a very starry night, just like the painting. 

Giving him a nod she left the place and he whispered to himself “if I could only plant those sunflowers with a snap of my fingers” 

................................................................................................................................

“And the worst part, Blanca, is that he just made me fall on the ground just like he fell all those years ago over my sunflowers”

Blanca was sitting down on her bed, in her very white room with flowers and glittery light everywhere, from the window she could see the butterflies dancing… those gossip motherfuckers, they wanted to hear more about Emmeline’s favorite drama: Harry and Maya. There was a big bet about when they were going to realise they were actually in love with each other.

“Don’t you think you are a bit too resentful towards him?” she asked while her pink haired friend was fusing over the butterflies, trying to shoo them out of the window “I mean… everybody is in love with Harry, all the fairies all the witches are in love with them, I know a lot of them that always tried to put a love charm on him...and never works.

“That only proves my theory that he doesn’t have a heart”

“Or his heart is already filled with love for someone else, you know how potions and charms work: it can only work if the said person has the soul free to be enveloped by the words of the spell or the mixture of a potion” 

“And how do you know so much about witchcraft, miss Blanca?” Said Maya with a flirty tone, already knowing the answer but she would give ANYTHING to change the conversation and not have to talk about no longer.

“You know I’m dating Florence, that witch that also came from London”

Florence got to Emmeline just a few years ago, together with a few friends. She was always kind and sweet, Maya liked her very much. Actually, if the blond girl didn’t share such a bond with Harry - they were very close - Maya knew she would always be around her little cottage, because she loved how it was full of sunflowers, the only plant she can’t create. 

“She is very nice, are you guys going to dress up like a couple for the ball?”

“Of course we will… I’m going to be a witch and she is going to dress up like a fairy”

“I can’t believe you guys are going to do this… so cliche”

“Come on… we’re cute” Blanca said with a wink of her eye and a bashful smile “I can’t wait to experiment the power she holds, she is sweet but you know… she has like… a way… sweet yet dominant” Blanca was laying down on the the bed, looking like she was remembering a very private memory “you know we actually we are going to be each other in everything today? Even inside the bedroom”

“God… I miss sex” 

“It’s been what… 5 years? The last one was the butterfly fairy, the french one, right?”

“Yeah… he was a attentive lover but it just wasn’t working, he would come here once in a while and we would fuck, it was good, but then I just wasn’t that much into him. I never was, actually, just an easy fuck”

“I think you are too much of a kinky fairy to be with another fairy”

“Yeah but most of other witches have already found their partner and I’m not the one to intrude in one’s relationship”

“I know someone who is willing and if the rumors are true… is a very very very kind and passionate lover, even if it’s just a one night stand”

“Don’t start, Blanca” Maya was back on her feet, looking down at her best friend. “I’m very happy for you and Florence but I do not wish to be in a relationship with another witch, especially if the other witch is… him”

“I don’t know how do you are almost 80 and you still haven’t learn that we do not have a power over what the destiny chooses for us, you could just admit you have feeling for him”

“I do… feelings of hatred. He destroyed my sunflowers”

And with that Blanca gave up helping her friend, knowing that she had to go to the one person that knew of their secret. She couldn’t talk about her knowledge on the matter, so she just had one thing left to ask: “so… what is your costume for the ball?”

Maya gave her a happy and excited smile and started blabbering about her outfit.

At the same time they were having this conversation, just about 1 mile away from them, Harry was sitting in a dark room, full of stones and plants,with candles laying in every single surface, being the only thing lighting up the room. He was playing with a very purple crystal ball, looking at the images that showed up. Ever since he got his first one, back in his early days of witchcraft, a gift from the woman who gave him her powers (till the day of her death she taught him everything about being a witch). The first thing she gave him the purple rounded stone, she told him that was the colors of his soul and whatever he saw in there was what his soul was longing to have. And Harry always saw, one way or another, the color pink in everything and also a lot of sunflowers. Pink like her hair, sunflower like the plantation he destroyed. He knew he had some sort of mission with her. 

Playing with the ball in his hands, he looked at his lap, where his familiar sat, a cute little guinea pig called Betsy. It was a welcome home from Stevie the moment he got into Emmeline. 

“What is it, Betsy?” she was leaning against the magic artefact “do you want me to make it work?” a little sound… “yes”.

With that, he held the ball with one hand, the other getting one of his plants, to first clear the energy, then he looked at the immensity of the purple before closing his eyes, concentrating. Imagining a white light involving him, from the tip of his toes to his hair. When he felt like his own soul was levitating, opening his eyes he said the words: “aperi pectore expuli, ostendere animae meae”.

Open my heart, show me my soul. 

With those words a little purple fog started to leak from the magic artifact, making his dark room glow like the twilight sky during spring, the smell of tulips reaching his senses. Suddenly he saw what he always did: the forest, the flowers, the pink hair, a sunflower field (with flowers that weren’t dead). Normally the vision ended here but this time the fog only got more intense, he felt like his body was lifting, flying over the sky, looking at the happening from the last year. He could feel his own head spinning, trying to make him go deeper and deeper inside his own soul. 

There was a path going down, he knew what it meant: he needed to dig deeper inside his own mind. The path was his own story, his own thoughts. His body was separating himself for his spirit, letting him move freely. That was the moment Harry was able to see: a painting of Pierrot and Columbine dancing around, together, in a masquerade ball. 

Pulling himself from the immersive spell he looked at Betsy and told her one single thing: “I need Stevie here. Now”

................................................................................................................................

The blonde woman was sitting next to a tree, watching the river reflect the midday sunlight, looking like small diamonds. She stills remembers the time mermaids were alive, before humanity decided that there was no worth in being good, letting the powerful take over everywhere, losing the essence the universe - so kindly - gave them. She is one of the oldest witches from human kind, she remembers everything and even if she couldn’t get old, she put a spell on her, so she could look older than most of her little forest town. 

Mother the woods, some would call her. But, the true story was that her heart was always too big, there was always room for another person to be apart of her family. But, she could admit she had a few of them closest to her heart. Like Harry, he looked so lost when he finally found the way to Emmeline. He didn’t have anyone for him, so she decided to be that person. That’s why the moment Betsy came looking for her she just ran to him, she knew he needed her, and what he told her made Stevie so happy: his soul was finally ready for the journey, and it was all happening tonight.

“Did you send for us?” she heard the sweet voice of Blanca, walking hand in hand with her girlfriend, next to a black cat named Luna, Stevie’s familiar.

“Yes, I think it’s time”

“Do you think they are ready?”

“Harry had a vision while questioning the mirror of the soul,  he saw Pierrot and Columbine. Blanca, darling, what is the costume Maya is planning for tonight?”

She looked at the girl, who looked paler than usual:

“She's going as Columbine. A white dress with little black hearts made out of glitter”

“And I was helping Harry making his for week now… you two can guess what he’s going as”

“Pierrot” they both said in unison.

“But, Stevie, isn’t the end of this tale sad… like, they don’t end up together?” questioned Florence.

“No, the true story, the one from the italian Commedia dell’arte, they end up together. But that’s not what I’m talking about… they are more connected than ever, Harry’s visions are getting more clear. How is Maya with her powers?”

“She still can grown those sunflowers”

“For someone so smart, she is quite stupid if she doesn’t know they both have a part of each other souls. Harry’s familiar also has a necessity to always go after her, sometimes when she is growing flowers around her house and plants start to grow near him…” 

“What spell are we going to use?”  

“I know just the right spell,” said the older woman. 

................................................................................................................................

She could see the lights and the beams. Everything was shining so bright. Right at the entrance of the ball there was a sign: “may the masks show your true essence” with a potion underneath. 

That sounds like mushroom fairies. Not today. 

“Don’t you look beautiful” she heard a melodic voice 

“Florence you look so pretty as a fairy” 

“And you look beautiful as a pantomime character” 

“Did you know it’s my favorite tale?” 

“Why is that” 

“The Pierrot crying because he is in love with Columbine in the middle of the crowd and she is able to sense his pain from far away… it just makes me believe in love. You know? One soul for everybody” 

“Aren’t you romantic,” Florence said while using her hands to fix and friends pink hair. While doing so she started to say the words Stevie told her to, the words that would make the powerful spell work. 

“You know, if there is one single  truth about soulmates: if magic strikes maybe once or maybe twice you have to hold onto it. Because if it’s in the tarot and in the stars, hiding your soul from what it seeks makes you think that love is, in essence, its opposite, which is hate. So, for tonight, I wish for as long as you are Columbine for your soul to outshine your tour thoughts and for you to feel it for everything you always did but couldn’t admit, ille amor consumit te caput ad pollicem”

Let the love consume you from head to toe 

“Did you just casted a spell on me, Flo?” 

“Maybe… maybe not. Maybe won’t work if you don’t love anyone” 

“Well… it’s going to fail but nice little verse” 

And with that Maya walked towards the middle of the ballroom, looking at the little floating stars, appreciating the vast colors of the place, pink and blue pastel colors, glitter and the faint smell of lavender. 

Suddenly she felt like a rush going through her body, an unfamiliar feeling setting in her stomach, that’s when she felt warm hands on her back: 

“So the Pierrot is no longer crying in the middle of the crowd. Who are you, my little Columbine?” 

When she turned around she saw the same green eyes she spent so much time thinking about and hating how it made her feel uneasy. But, now, under the fake stars and lights, everything felt different. With his black and white suit and a glittery make up - a little draw of a black tear down his left cheek, adoring the constellation of his freckles. 

She knew his name, she knew his smell, she knew of their story. But there was something in the way her heart was beating so loudly… there was something different. Like she couldn’t control. Not anymore. 

And she didn’t even know if she wanted to, either. 

“Hello, dear Pierrot, how are you on this fine evening?” 

“Better now I found a pair so I’m not the lonely Pierrot. And how are you, little Maya . Or should I call you Columbine?” 

“Call me Columbine for tonight we aren’t a witch and a fairy who share feelings of hate. We are Pierrot and Columbine. And they are in love” 

In the middle of the ballroom, filled with so much laughter and joy, he was the same Harry dressed as Pierrot, looking at Maya, like it was the first time. 

“It’s close to midnight, will you join me as my partner for the new year dance?” 

She took his hand. Yes. 

The New Years dance was the way Emmeline lives the joy and hope of a new year. Instead of a countdown, Stevie would sing for them for the next 3 minutes, while they went around being free and loving every second of it. Normally that was the part Maya liked the less, because most of her friends and sisters had significant others. So she was always alone. 

When the subtle sound of the harp began, they started to move. The big clock on the wall, showing the position of the universe with its stars, planets, moons and even black holes, was counting down the seconds to the new year. The world was spinning, everybody was moving around the Pierrot and the Columbine, but, inside their eyes there were only them and the stars. 

With bodies moving in synchrony Harry was caught in thoughts of forever, because now, it was clear. He always had this pull towards her. She is his forever and he could only hope his love wouldn’t pass as unrequited. He could not survive this. 

If she wanted to, he would make Maya his. His little baby, his fairy, his pink little love. With her shining glory and his red essence. They would be perfect for one another. If she could only see this. 

She looked at the clock and then back at Harry, she was feeling nervous but also she had never felt so calm. In his warm body Maya felt engaged by a protection spell and nothing could ever hurt her. But, what changed so suddenly? They were fighting just this morning and now she was clinging to his body. The love spell had worked. She needed to find Florence and ask for it to be reversed, it was wrong, she shouldn’t feel what she was feeling. Because, if the spell worked that meant they were each other’s mirror. And she didn’t do well with that perspective. In that moment she saw the time: 20 seconds to a new year. The song was ending. But a new phase was beginning. 

“It’s almost midnight” 

“True” he told her while playing with her hair “you know… humans have a tradition” oh “and they kiss when the clock strikes midnight. And I was wondering… if I could kiss you” 

She was hypnotized by his smell, his sweet honeyed voice. By his eyes that were always so green that made her shy. He was the closest thing to perfection and now it just made sense why so many witches and fairies had their way with him. Why so many tried to cast a spell on him. Why so many tried to be what she always was. 

10 seconds now 

“If we kiss I have this feeling that everything is going to change” 

“Aren’t changes good?”

9 seconds 

“I want to kiss you but I’m afraid of what will I feel” 

8 seconds 

“Whatever you feel is fine as long as is with me and only me” 

7 seconds 

“You can kiss me” 

With his thumb caressing under her eye she felt like he was trying to call me her down 

6 seconds 

“Protecto” he whispered and out of nowhere he enveloped then in a purple glittery cocoon. He was making her feel comfortable. 

5 seconds 

“You are the most fascinating creature I have ever met in my 500 years of life upon this earth” 

4 seconds 

“And you are the most annoying one” 

3 seconds 

“Aren’t you a romantic 

2 seconds 

He got closer, his nose touching Maya’s. The glitter cocoon spinning around them 

1 second

There was no going back and she didn’t want to. 

“Happy New Year, my pink dove” and he kissed her. 

Maya has had her fair share of kisses but nothing ever felt like the feeling of him. Sweet and hungry. A perfect compilation of opposites. The caress of his tongue was welcomed with joy, his hands touching her back, holding her waist, holding so close to him, like she could vanish at any second now. She was feeling his lucious curls, so long and so so soft that someone would believe he an actual prince, not a witch. 

With two pecks to her lips he let her go, opening his eyes, heart beating so strong and holding her gaze that was already waiting for him. 

During the kiss someone had broken their cocoon and now they both had glitter all over them, but neither was actually caring. They were seeing each other for the very first time. A new year, indeed. 

“Would you care to miss the party?” Harry asked “I made blueberry cake and I would love for you to meet Betsy”

“We are eternal, we have many new years to live, lead the way” holding her hand, he walked her towards the exit, turning around only to find Stevie, who gave hum a little wink with her left eye. Of course she was in the middle of this. He knew it was a love spell that made them loose their strings and prinde, finally admiting the true behind their hearts. That was the reason he wanted to get her in a quiet place, if they were going to do this, he wanted to know she was his, beyond any spell or trick. He needed to know if she loved with at least an ounce of what he felt. 

The walk was quiet, the full moon was shinning so he didn’t felt the need to cast a light spell. The woods were talking, the wind blowing aganist the trees and the animals, they were happy. 

“Is it true you can talk to plants?” he asked her

“Yeah, it’s one of my powers... why?”

“I think the nature is happy today, something in my hearts tells me so, but I hold no power over nature beyond what was given to me” Harry was feeling shy, his curiosity was getting the best of him and he was afraid she would judge him

“Do you want me to talk to some of plants?” nodding his head he took her hand to a bloodflower “you know, this one atracks butterfly the most” she told him

Letting go of his hand she sat on the flor, putting both of her hands on the floor, feeling the soil, trying to see if the flower was awake and if it wanted to talk.

She was awake but she was a bit dry 

“Harry before I talk to her, can you put a bit of water on it” she called him Harry, not Pierrot, the spell was faiding and he could only hope their newfound love didn’t fade aswell.

With a snap of his fingers a little cloud was made over the flower, raining a little bit, then vanishing with the wind. 

“Hello, are you feeling better now?” Maya asked with a sweet voice, the plant opened more showing its petals as a way to thank the couple.

“How do you actually comunicate with them? Like you ear their thoughts?”

“No, I feel what they feel, and she feels safe here with us. Come one, put your hands here and try to focus with your heart and mind”

“I’m not a fairy”

“Just try, come one. Sometimes I can pronouse witches spells and actually works and I don’t even know why. So with his left hand he carressed the petal but never taking his mind of the pink haired girl and he felt his heart race at the same time he felt like the little red and orange plant was trying to show him something.

“My heart is beating so loud... what does that mean when you touch a flower and you feel this?”

“Love”

................................................................................................................................

After saying goobye to the flower, walking hand in hand, they got to Harry’s little cabin. Made out of woods it had a small living room with a little couch, books everywhere, stones, herbs, charms. Betsy was nowhere to be seen, maybe she wanted to give them privacy. The dark walls were contrasting the pink of her hair but she looked like... home. Like she belonged there. 

Turning around to look at Harry she felt this need to kiss him, she was feeling such a strong love for him, she couldn’t hide or pretend anymore, so she want for it. With her hand pulling him towards her, Maya kissed him.

This time with hunger. This time with power. This time to hold onto him in the most intimate ways. 

With their height difference being so big, Harry helped her to get on the couch and started to assault her neck. With his hands carresing her neck and her hips. 

“Can I touch you” he asked her

“Please” So that’s what he did. Kissing her and letting his hands explore her like the most searched treasure map , slowing coming closer to her breasts, first touching her lighting, then gripping with a strong yet caring hold. Feeling her, trying to read her body. When his fingers reached her nipples he lost it, kissing her neck with intent, marking her, showing her this was it. 

“Take off my clothes, please, please” she said in a fant voice, too caugh up with pleasure. So that’s what he did, with his hands he took everysingle piece of clothing they both were wearing. Using his streight to take her to his bedroom.

Maya wanted to analyse every little thing about his home, but at that moment, with his lips making a long waited jorney across her body, she knew she had to to this in the morning.

He kissed, he touched her. She whispered how much she wanted them. He gave her anything and everything. Kissing her tights, her most private parts, using his tongue, and his fingers, using anything to make her shiver to make her want him even more. 

When they were finally one, Maya lost a bit of her control over her powers making petals of the same flower they talked earlier fall over them in a shower of love and desire, Harry loved that he made her feel like that so he only encraised his powerfull movements. 

In that moment that was only a verb they could conjugate: to love. 

................................................................................................................................

The sun is almost up, the spell was vanishing, they were no longer Pierrot and Columbine. They were Harry and Maya. 

“Hey, Harry... I think I should go back to my place?” 

“Won’t you stay? We can have breakfast together” 

“Why should I?vWe can’t be Pierrot and Columbine forever” 

“But we can be Harry and Maya” 

She looked sad, she knew about the spell. 

“But the thing is... we’re not”  he looked at her with confused green orbs. So she told him about the words Florence told her.

“You know... that spell does not change a thing, because it only made us say and do what we always wanted to do” he took her hands, playing with her fingers, adoring her white glittery nail polish, trying to keep everything memorized because he knew she was leaving. His visions were wrong, she wouldn’t stay “but if you wanna leave, it’s okay. You can go back to hate me but I won’t hate you, well, I won’t pretend that I hate you when the truth is I love you with my hole soul” 

She was quiet, looking around his room. Trying to keep something with her when she left but her legs weren’t working. The way he had deep red walls and paitings from his many years of life upen the earth. The deep black sating sheats and the beautiful naked man adorning the dark satin. And when she looked at him she saw his light, his golden light. She was seeing his aura. That was a power witches held, so why she was seeing his aura. 

“You know, even your aura is pink”

“And yours is gold” 

Harry understood at that second that there was no going back. They were connected now. One can only see the aura of their true love.She could leave and he would hurt forever for part of him would leave with her. So he decided to try to get her to stay. 

“You know, sometimes I daydream that you come into my room and just lay down next to me. And I always feel so happy about it. Because if you ever come and visit me, at any given time, I would let you. I just want you in my life, I have this pull towards you. I just need to get to know you.”

He paused se he could put her messy hair behind her left ear

“When I fell over you sunflowers I felt terrible. Because not only I made you hate me, I thought I lost the chance to be with you. But, if everything we went through is because now we’re slowly walking, with no rush, to a path full of love. I won’t ever hate you. I will always cherish you. Because if you want me, truly want me, let me know, because when it comes to me I just need to tell you that you will have in me a friend, a lover,  even a personal brewer when you want some nice potion to make you feel dangly inside”  

“You don’t understand. I want to be with you, but how can you be the one to match my soul if you killed one of the things I love the most:” 

The sunflowers. It the end it would always be about those flowers. And Harry will hate himself every second of the day for the rest of eternity if he doesn’t fix it 

“Will you every give me another chance? Just one? Can’t you see how we fit? You don’t find this anywhere, damn it, it’s so rare for fairies and witches to be made for one another but when they do... it’s perfect. Look and Blanca and Florence. You have my heart in your hands, every piece of it, even the parts I don’t even know about. It’s you, it’s you you you. Everything is for you. Everything is about you” 

She was quiet, but she was still holding his hands. 

“I will spend the rest of eternity with you trying to grow sunflowers, they won’t be kept in our memory because we will plant new seeds from our love. One chance. Just one chance” 

Maya got closer, touching his forehead with her, her eyes golden from the sun that was entering the room from its window

“So... what changes?”

““Everything’s still the same, nothing changes. Except now, I get to hold you, and kiss you, and show you much I love you.”

With that she kissed him, and they kissed till the sun was high in the sky. With her on top they were moving together in the most intimate dance one could ever share. They were one and while they were kissing and making love to one another pink and gold mixed together, healing their pass and plating new seeds for future filled with love. 

Maya was the first one to wake up, with Harry’s familiar on top of her, asking for attention: 

“Hey, Betsy, what is it?” 

The little animal went to the window, so she followed and when she saw it, she couldn’t believe it: 

Sunflowers. Everywhere. 

She didn’t even knew she was crying till she saw a tattooed hand holding her face: 

“My dove, why are you crying” 

“The sunflowers. We made them” 

“You finally gave your sunflowers” 

She gave him a small kiss 

“Our sunflowers, my love. Our sunflowers” 

 THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING. DON’T FORGET TO REBLOG AND TALK TO BE ABOUT IT AND READ ALL THE OTHER FICS FROM THE CELEBRATION AND GO ON AND GIVE @stellarboystyles CONGRATULATIONS

ps: the last part was not prof read, sorry...

#harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fanfiction #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #stellarboystyles3years

[apr1cots]

my sweet bbs @frenchmarshmalloww, @lucienneart, and @phoebedelia tagged me to do this and i haveee never done a tag before so here i am. 

here are tiny glimpses into my life through my babies

a handful of birthdays

he’d been dreading the day for weeks. it didn’t matter who wished him happy birthday, because he knew that the one person who really mattered wouldn’t say a word. his heart ached in a way he hadn’t thought was survivable and in his darkest moments, he still didn’t know how he could possibly keep on living. nothing was right without draco and it wasn’t fair that he felt so empty when draco appeared to be completely fine. how could draco be so okay without him? draco lived in his head, their arguments playing on a loop. but more than that, harry couldn’t stop thinking about the good times, the best times.

not to start us off in a dark place but lol. my best friend from the age of 5 years and i dated and in the end it led to the  brutal demolition of our friendship. losing that longterm friendship with someone who knew every inch of my soul shattered my heart pretty bad. i wrote this the day before my birthday, knowing i wouldn’t hear from him. i didn’t. and it hurt like hell.

wolf

i was just staring at my suit across the room while the minutes ticked on and i kept telling myself i’d stand up in just a moment and then it was half ten and it was too late and i closed my eyes and forced myself to sleep so i didn’t have to think about everyone who would be upset with me. 

this is how my depression feels so much of the time. the avoidance and the sickening weight of wanted so desperately to be productive or to go to the thing. having your true self begging you to get up and clean your room but a thousands voices drowning that voice in your head out screaming you can’t you can’t you can’t.

love letter

his shaking fingers traced draco’s name in the white marble remembering again that it would never get easier. 

losing people changes your heart forever. 

caught

draco’s hand caught scorpius’ wrist just before he dipped a finger in the frosting.

“and what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

i love children! i’ve always been surrounded my children in my family and i’ve done quite a bit of nannying. i prefer children over adults any day of the week. when i was very tiny i wanted to be a grandma when i grew up.

cruel summer

the cracks in the weathered leather of the passenger seat of the dark green tr6 caught on harry’s trousers as he shifted in the warmth of the dying embers of the sun’s valiant effort at an indian summer, so rare in his corner of the world. trees flew past his peripheral vision, blurred as he focused on the road ahead.

my dad has a cute little red tr6 and i LOVE it. going for drives in the summer is one of the best feelings in the world. my dad loves an indian summer night and they always make me think of him. plus taylor swift, of course. 

strangers in the night

harry had grown to hate the sunrise. the soft unfurling colors were a stinging reminder that he should be asleep, that he only had half a handful of hours before he had to start a new day, and that his own sanity was spiraling out of control in the stilted slow motion of the hours when everyone else was asleep. the sunrise filled him with a thick, creeping self loathing every time, molasses filling his belly and settling like a rock. 

insomnia has let me see far too many sunrises that i didn’t want to see. and it always fills me with guilt because i should have tried harder to sleep and if i had only done all of my work on time and worked out and x, y, and z then i would be a better person. 

harry styles giving harry potter bi panic 

when zayn left the band, he and ginny went on a drive around london, listened to spaces and bawled.

i did this!! with my sister. though, not in london. we were devastated the day zayn left the band i will never forget it and we were driving and listening to one direction and spaces came on and we just turned towards one another halfway through, eyes full of tears, and knew. 

just friends 

It felt like Harry was the first thing he had ever really wanted that he couldn’t have. And it was all his fault.

pining for your best friend is the WORST!! certifiably. i hate it. been there. done that. couldn’t be me again haha. mine did end up in a relationship but not like this!!!

this ended up way longer than i intended and also p depressing haha. but pain creates art so. ily all and i tag @moonstruckwytch & @nv-md & everyone

#meeee #drarry #harry potter

[ineloqueent]

talk to me

Joe Mazzello x Reader

hi regan your gifs are amazing okay

synopsis: Joe’s been quiet for a while. you think it’s your fault, but it isn’t. if only you could talk to him.

warnings: feelings of worthlessness, drowning allusion, straight angst (but it’s a nice ending, so don’t worry :))

word count: 1.5k

a/n: as usual, i have no self control. inspired by the fucking stupid state of the world, and this song. 

⭒

2020

Nighttime. It seemed like it was always nighttime.

You got up before the sun, you only came home once it had set, once the world had been swathed in darkness once more, and the hopelessness sank more heavily without light to keep it at bay.

The world around you was in pieces. Aflame. Gone to madness. Possibly ending.

At least, that was how it seemed.

Dying, that’s what people were, and if they weren’t dying, they were sick, or vulnerable to an extraordinary degree. And if it wasn’t sickness, then they were dying as victims of violence, of hatred, and there was so much of it that you wondered if anything would ever change.

And there was nothing you could do about any of it.

Sure, you could wear a mask and stay six feet from people, and sign petitions and donate money, but you couldn’t stay home from work, and your increasingly sparse budget meant that you couldn’t keep donating forever. The one thing that helped the most, and you couldn’t fucking keep it up. You felt so useless.

You felt so stupidly selfish, so ridiculously privileged, when you sat down in the evenings, at the wooden dining table you were lucky enough to call your own, because you’d held onto your job with nothing but chance; you had a place to come home to. Some people didn’t even have that.

And you had Joe.

For all the despair and the grief, you had Joe.

He was at home— home, home, it belonged to you both— and could be found around the apartment at any given hour. He was curled up on the bed with a mound of books he intended to read, typing away at the new screenplay he swore you’d inspired him to write, or humming as he cooked up a storm in the kitchen using a recipe borrowed from one of his relatives in Italy, not often with the best results, but always with the best intentions.

Always.

He was always there when you came home, ready to slip your jacket from your shoulders and ease you into his arms, after he’d ensured you’d washed your hands at least twice. He was there as you sank into the sofa, cooing to you softly as he kissed away the lines the mask had left on your face, brushed the hair back from your eyes so that he could “see that beautiful smile of yours.”

But, you knew that these ‘unprecedented times’, to quote every email you’d received since March, were just as hard on Joe as they were on you.

Sometimes you would find him hunched over your shared desk, his head in his hands and his fingers in his hair, slumped in an utterly dejected manner. You would wander over to him and begin rubbing his shoulders until he lifted his head and you could press a kiss to his crown. Sometimes, you would find him sprawled on the floor, in front of the television, multi-tasking an existential crisis with an episode of Queer Eye. Wordlessly, you would make your way over and fall down beside him, and after a few moments of silence, he’d pull you to him and cuddle into your side, and the two of you would simply lie there, holding one another until the wave of darkness swelled and slowed, and a smattering of light shone through the water to reach your hearts, your minds.

But he was never quiet.

Not like this.

And he’d been like this for a week.

You’d been giving him some space to breathe, but perhaps that was not what he needed at all. Perhaps he needed you.

You resolved to find out.

It was already nighttime when you came on Friday, running through your usual routine of handwashing, mask removal, clothing-changing, a pitiful glance in the mirror.

You hadn’t yet seen Joe, which was odd, because he must have been home. You supposed he was in the living room, in his favourite corner of the sofa where the walls were close and hid a cosy nook from the view of the rest of the open-plan apartment.

Once you were dressed— in pyjama bottoms, a loose t-shirt, the knitted green cardigan Joe said made you look like a forest nymph— you armed yourself with a stack of take-away menus and shuffled toward the living room.

“So, what’s it to be?” you said, raising a couple of the menus. “Italian for my favourite Mazzello?” you smiled. “Or Indian, Thai, Greek?”

But then your smile faded, when you looked at Joe.

Normally, he had the opposite effect on you, but how could you smile when he lay curled up like that, his arms wrapped around a pillow, his face gaunt and his eyes watery?

The take-away menus fluttered to the floor.

You were next to him within seconds, pulling him up into a sitting position, prying the pillow from his arms to take his hands in yours.

“Joe?” you asked softly. “Talk to me.”

His eyes were on your hands. His own were shaking. You tightened your grip.

Then he looked up at you, and the air left your lungs, like being pushed under a wave without even a chance to inhale before the weight of the water set in.

Or maybe that was just how it felt to have your heart broken without losing someone first, because Joe’s expression broke your heart.

“Will it always be like this?” he murmured, and the tears spilled from his eyes to stain his cheeks.

You couldn’t stand to see him like this, so forlorn and lost.

Cupping Joe’s face in your hands, your eyes flickered between his, and you thought for a moment, about everything. About all the misery and the hatred and the stubborn stupidity, about the tiring precautions and the people putting their lives on the line even more than you did every day, about the ignorance and the passivity, about the lasting effects of everything that had happened and would still happen in 2020.

Hindsight is 20/20.

So look back.

This was not the first time humanity had faced horrors.

There would always be carelessness and obstinacy, apathy and greed, and there would always be the selfish bastards who could do more but preferred to live in their high castles, away from the troubles of the world.

But there would always be doctors and scientists too, activists and ordinary people alike who banded together to fight for good in the world, people who had so little but gave what they had because they thought to suspend their wants for the needs of others.

“No,” you answered firmly, and pulled Joe into your embrace. “It will not always be like this.”

He buried his face in your shoulder and you felt him sigh as he wound his arms around you, as you brought one hand to his hair, which had grown longer and even more unruly than usual, subject to his maintenance of isolation. Joe was always saying that he looked tired, spent, weary, worn, but you thought he looked as beautiful as ever, with his soft smiles and softer eyes, with the way he padded toward bed in the evenings before he crawled beneath the covers beside you and lavished you with kisses, ones that were happily returned.

Now, he pressed his lips to the little bit of skin exposed by your t-shirt and cardigan at your collarbone. And when he raised his head, you brushed your thumb over his tears until there were none left, until the whisper of a smile warmed his expression and you leaned forward to gently kiss his mouth.

“You’ll always have me,” you said. “Whether you like it or you don’t.”

He did smile at that.

“You and I, forever, huh?” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he sniffed back his remaining tears.

“Cry all you want, Joe. I’m not leaving you.”

He laughed, shook his head, tugged you into his arms again.

And so the evening was spent, in the corner of a sofa as the darkness outside grew thicker, one shaft of light in the gloom of the world, one little corner of solace, of happiness, as you laughed and talked, bellies full of the best pizza the city had to offer, hearts full of an ineffable warmth that eventually lulled you to sleep in each other’s arms.

And all around the world, these corners glowed in their solitude, until the glow spread and banished all bleakness, and the only darkness was night.

You would make it. You would all make it, because as terrible as everything was, people had a way of finding a little hope, even when there should have been none of it at all.

As terrible as it all was, it would always be you and Joe against the world.

⭒

a/n: i now recommend listening to ‘dear friends’ by queen, because it’s the lullaby we all need. love to you all x

#tina's writing #joe mazello x reader #fic

[lydias--stiles]

Review of WORK IT, starring Sabrina Carpenter, Jordan Fisher and Liza Koshy

When Quinn Ackerman's admission to the college of her dreams depends on her performance at a dance competition, she forms a ragtag group of dancers to take on the best squad in school... now she just needs to learn how to dance. (imdb)

So I was really excited for this movie. For one, I’m a dancer myself and therefore am permitted to watch every single dance movie out there. Secondly, it starred Jordan Fisher and I am a sucker for anything Jordan Fisher. 

Overall, it was a cute movie. 

What this movie is suffering of, is very tired tropes. Which is unfortunate, because the actors are quite good. 

Sabrina Carpenter plays Quinn, the quintessential Netflix coming-of-age protagonist that will do anything to get into the college of their dreams but falls flat since they don’t have that “spark” those colleges are looking for. We saw it in Sierra Burgess, The Perfect Date, and probably countless others I’m forgetting.

Her best friend is Jas (Liza Koshy) who is on the famous school dance team The Thunderbirds. Jas is loud, opinionated, unapologetically herself and would do anything for Quinn, somehow placing herself second for most of the movie despite the fact that she is outspoken and a talented dancer. Jas is just the typical friend character we’ve seen countless times before and I wished she was more, that she wanted more. It also didn’t make sense how she got into a dance program in NYC when she only showcased hiphop at the final dance competition, when literally every university-level dance program prefers contemporary and ballet. Hiphop is an elective, not the thing that gets you in. 

(I’m not degrading hiphop, it just doesn’t make sense that this was the style that got her accepted.) 

Isaiah (Keiynan Lonsdale) even said it: Juilliard didn’t accept him because of his style of dance, which is commerical. Speaking of Keiynan, he was amazing as the overdramatic, nearly caricatural depiction of an ambitious dancer/Ru Paul wannabe. I wish we saw more of him though, a little depth would’ve done him well. 

Jordan Fisher was a joy to watch. He basically played himself under the name of Jake Taylor. He was the starlet of the dance community until he tore his ACL (also a classic) and now teaches dance to children at a studio. Jordan and Sabrina have great chemistry and amazing dance sequences together. I wonder if it was a nod to Baby and Johnny from Dirty Dancing, as he taught her to dance and some of the moves he was teaching her were sometimes a bit provocative. While their chemistry is great, I did have some concerns about the ages? He should be about 21 years, whereas she is 17 or 18. If she’s 18: fine, but I did find it concerning how they never mentioned his age. He’s at least 21, could be older.

The movie kind of meandered in the middle, not really going anywhere and just developing the relationship between Quinn and Jake. While that was cute, the entire dance team they created (TBD) is underdeveloped. You have the Goth Girl, Indian Girl, a DJ hiphopper, Nerdy Kid and Jock. If I forgot someone, that means they were that insignificant. I wasn’t surprised they were stereotypes, as this is typical for a dance troupe movie, but even movies like Step Up gave them some flavour. Jas, meanwhile, was being horny for a matress shop worker. There were a few other edgy jokes sprinkled in that were... interesting (boner jokes), but the delivery of said jokes were mostly good, so it’s okay.

I was very peeved by the final dance (because of many technicalities and that they just shoud not have won) but we’re going to gloss over that and just call it “movie magic”. Sure. 

It sounds like I didn’t like the movie, but I did! The tragical third act moment where it all falls apart is well-done and logical for our characters and Jas had every right to be mad. I’m surprised she came back in the end! I love how they showcased and highlighted how amazing disabled dancers were! I love Quinn and Jas’ friendship, Jas’ quips and jabs, and all the dance montages Jake got to have. I enjoyed the cinematography and lighting (!!), the soundtrack, Michelle Buteau gracing us with her presense, and I respect how Sabrina had to pretend she didn’t know how to dance. 

Like I said: it was a cute movie. It’s a mindless watch without any deeper meaning other than to let yourself go every once in a while and to go to the beat of your own drum. I wish coming-of-age dance movies would find the balance between generic dance movie with -insert trendy actors- and the overly pretentious John Green-esque movies. I’d suggest talking to dancers and observing an actual dancer’s life. I'm also wondering if this film would’ve been better set in college or a dance club outside of high school, but I’ll have to think about that more. 

Will it go down in dance movie history like Step Up, Dirty Dancing or Footloose? To Be Determined. 

3/5 

#work it #jordan fisher #sabrina carpenter #jake taylor #quinn ackerman #netflix #review #spoilers

[kchuarts]

Flowers in Blood

A/N: A new fanfic that I couldn't wait to jump on!! This one is very much different from the ones I normally write. I am also introducing a new OC. This takes place in 2018 going into 2019 

Summary: Angela Burr takes on a case that had been cold since the 70's as there is a sudden spark in activity relevant to the case. She calls a friend from across the pond and gets a hold of Katie O'Connor, a 24 soon to be 25 year old American woman for the job. The case is assigned to Katie and Jonathan for them to solve and bring down the leader of an unnamed group that was involved in the crimes back then. Unfortunately for Jonathan, Katie is connected to a friend of his time while in Iraq that did not end well.

Warnings: Cursing and mentions of assault

Taglist: @lucywrites02​ *(Let me know if you’d like to be on the tag list!!)*

Chapter 1: Poppy

A loud rapping at the door of Angela Burr’s special agency causes the Director to jump from her seat. “For fuck sake, can’t a mum have one minute of peace to ‘erself?” Angela huffed, getting up quickly and noticing Rob wasn’t at all around which irked the tired woman further. “Better have a good excuse for why he isn’t here.” She muttered under her breath before opening the door being met with a shorter, pale skinned woman. Angela’s brows knit together in confusion as she studied the young woman, “Green eyes, short brown hair, looks 157 centimeters in height-” She stopped as she noticed the woman give her an odd look. “What? I’m just trying to get a better look at ya. I dunno if you are who we sent for, you’re so short! Wait, wait. I got it, you’re American is that it? Your unit of measurements are-” She sighed and smacked her own forehead as her thoughts finally caught up to her. “Right! Dear, I am so terribly sorry. Come in, come in. You are exactly who we called for over from across the pond. I swear I must still have a pregnancy brain even after three bloody years. Katelyn O’Connor is it?” She waved her hand over to a seat. The American brunette woman grimaced at her full name and nodded, “I uh, sorry, I prefer Katie.” She cleared her throat and held her hand out, shaking Angela’s hand. “No, no! That was my mistake, dear. Oh for fuck sake Rob! It’s about damn time you got in here!! What’s your excuse for your lack of being here?” Her large brown eyes watched as her assistant, Rob Singhal walked in. The Indian man froze and looked from Angela to Katie in confusion then down at the tray of coffees he held. “Shite! Ang, you coulda said we were gonna have company!! Apologies, miss. Next time I’ll get you tea or coffee.” He practically slammed the hot beverage in front of Angela and sighed with great irritation. Katie waved her hand as a gesture of thanks and then looked down into her lap as she fiddled with her fingers. 

Angela looked up at Rob, raising her brows at his attitude. “There’s extra cream in it?” 

The assistant’s hands dropped to his sides and he let out a groan, “Not even a thank you or are you ok?! I stood in line for twenty god damn minutes for your bitter rubbish and some prick hit my new chaps with his fucking bicycle!” He pointed to his pants aggressively, a large stain apparent on the light khakis. Angela rolled her eyes, taking a test sip and nodding “Alright good, there’s cream. Last time the bastards didn’t. Sorry about your pants, sweetheart but you wasted twenty minutes of preparation for our new agent!” She turned to the younger woman seated in front of her. Katie looked up and gave a warm smile, smoothing her pencil skirt out. “It’s alright Mrs. Burr-”, 

“Angela, please. I had my first and last kid three years ago, I already feel old as is when I get the “Mrs.” added. Now, back to business.” Angela shuffled through documents and licked her finger to sift through properly. This was Katie’s first time out of America and she would definitely be lying if she said she hadn’t gotten a major culture shock. London was somewhat similar to New York in a manner of ways; for one thing, the people were always very loud and blunt. While London did feel more tame, it still had that familiar city smell and livelihood to it. This was certainly a new experience for a girl from a small village in Michigan, USA. “Sorry ‘bout that, Miss O’Connor. By the way, you got any relatives over in Ireland? Your last name is extremely Irish- Oh there I go again, getting off track. Sorry it’s nearly getting time for me to be checking in on the babysitter to see how my little one is doing.” Angela cleared her throat and handed Katie the files on a peculiar case that had gone cold. Katie frowned as she skimmed over the pages and gathered information on ten very high scale murders of wealthy families. Each page had a familiar theme of illegal trade, fraud, weapons, drugs, and prostitution. She noticed that there was a mysterious yet oddly recognizable symbol carved into the skin of the inner forearm of the husbands. Katie placed the photo evidence down and tapped on the sigils, “I’ve seen this before in my lessons. Mrs- Angela, why are you showing me such an old case? No one has been able to figure anything out about these crimes since the Seventies…” She leaned back and raised a brow. The older woman nodded and grabbed a stack of papers, plopping them in front of the young American. “Not until now.” 

As Katie skimmed over the pages, she noticed that the activity of this particular group had risen up again and even had a public support group. The sigil was much more clear now and shaped into something more recent. It was of a Poppy flower and now that Katie thought about it, she remembered that a single poppy flower was always left behind at the crime scene. A chill ran down her spine as awful memories of her ex boyfriend Travis resurfaced. She knew there was no correlation between the two, but Travis always seemed to love giving her that type of flower and he even had a tattoo on his neck of one. To make matters worse, during her older brother Cameron’s funeral, there were poppies in some of the bouquets before he was laid to rest. It was a closed casket ceremony as he had died courageously while serving. 

-flash-

“TRAVIS STOP!! GET AWAY FROM ME!” Katie screamed, kicking her legs as hard as she could to get the man off of her. Exhaustion was coming over the 20 year old girl as she had been struggling for an hour to get away from her abuser. 

-flash-

A gag was shoved into Katie’s mouth with her hands and legs bound. The sounds of a blade ripping her clothes off filled the room along with the sound of her whimpers. “No one is ever gonna want you, baby girl. Not after I’m done with you. There’s no one for you to turn to, not even your dead big brother.” 

“Katie?” 

The green eyed woman gasped, coming out of her trance and quickly wiping a stray tear away from her cheek. “I-I’m ok, Angela. I just… I really hate poppies.” She smiled sadly, handing the paper back to her boss and taking a deep breath. “I can tell… I know we’ve just met, but if you need to talk about it you can. I see that you’ve some past trouble of sorts, I do apologize for requiring your services specifically, but I don’t think anyone else here can speak Japanese, Korean or” Angela looked down at her papers and scratched her head “Russian. Dear god and you’re only twenty four.” She whistled and nodded at the woman, impressed by her choice of studying harder languages. Thankful that the woman chose to not press further into her trauma, Katie sniffled and smiled at Angela. “I’m still learning Russian, but I think I can manage making my way through.” She nodded and sighed, that memory now seared into her brain after she had tried to bury it for good 5 years ago. “Well good because you’re going to be taking a little trip to Russia and eventually, Japan.” Angela noticed the sudden excitement in the young woman’s eyes and chuckled a little “Don’t get too excited, this is not any vacation. I understand that you are a rookie and this being your first true traveling experience, but don’t get cocky.” The chair she sat in scraped across the floor and she hoisted her purse onto her shoulder. “We will be discussing travel arrangements and the like tomorrow, but I’d like you to meet your partner today first. You two will be spending quite a bit of time together so it’s better to get used to each other now. Come along.” Angela hustled over to the door, checking her watch and noticing the time. She looked back up and eyed Rob, “Thank you for the coffee and sorry about your trousers. Have a nice night, sweetheart.” She waved with Katie following shortly behind, also waving goodbye to the assistant. 

“Oh for the love of-” Angela huffed, scrambling to get her umbrella out of her purse and cursing under her breath as rain poured down on the two. “No one ever likes the rain here, it’s bloody awful.” She offered Katie to get under it. The green eyed woman obliged and rubbed her arms, the air hitting her with a bite. “I think I am used to it at least to some degree considering I grew up in Michigan. The weather there never knows what it wants to be!” Katie grimaced, continuing to rub her arms. Clearly, she had underestimated her choice in attire and was now suffering from it. She heard Angela give a little chortle and shake her head as they continued their journey to an apartment complex. The two women idly chatted on their walk to this strange building about Katie’s life as Angela wanted to get to know her better and genuinely seemed interested in her well being. “I cannot stand the thought of living in a country with a deranged clown for a leader. I mean, the mission at hand is not a pleasant one but at least you’re not having to deal with his bullshit. I reckon he’s more dangerous than this group we’re about to send you and Mr. Pine into.” The Director noticed her agent flinch and stumble for a moment. She placed a tender hand on her arm and stopped their walk, “Is something the matter dear?” Her voice softened. Katie nodded and sighed through her nose, “I wasn’t expecting to work with someone else let alone a man. I have issues with men, personal reasons I’d rather not get into.” She smiled wryly and felt the urge to cry build in her throat. “Oh. I’m sorry. Well, remember what I told you earlier, if you need to talk about it I will be more than happy to listen. Men are garbage.” She laughed, trying to lighten the mood and wrapping a comforting arm around the young woman’s shoulders. “However, Mr. Pine is not a part of the garbage I am referring to. I am hopeful that you will be comfortable around him. He is my pride and joy… And my kid too. Honestly, they’re both my kids even if one of them is 38 years old.” 

Katie hoped that Angela was right and wanted to trust the woman. Those two years she had spent with Travis practically ruined her and how she viewed men. Hopefully, this Mr. Pine would help her heal and reshape her opinion. 

Both women sighed as glorious heat hit their numb faces upon entering the building. “Your flat is going to be on the floor below Mr. Pine.” Angela looked at her watch and smiled with some hope, “I would perhaps suggest maybe grabbing a pint together seeing as it’s supper time. If you’re comfortable enough.” She added quickly, grabbing Katie’s arm as she noticed the slight shift of her body. Katie nodded and smiled back, shuddering the last remnants of the cold from outside. “I’m not a big drinker, but that does sound nice. I’d like to see a few of the older pubs before we go. I’ve always wanted to see the Tower of London and “haunted” locations.” She smiled more and chuckled at Angela’s unimpressed face. “Really? Oh you’re one of those spooky chasers or whatever they’re called. Well, I can assure you that London has plenty of that but for now we need to focus on the task at hand.” Angela pressed a button up to the 14th floor and walked in, holding the elevator door for Katie. The ride up had the American woman’s stomach in knots as each floor made a ding noise each time they advanced a level. “Uh, you said that Mr. Pine is 38 years old? H-How long has he been working for you?” Katie swallowed, trying to calm her nerves. “You know who Roper is? Richard Roper?” She raised her eyebrows at the girl. “I’ve heard about him and of his dealings, but other than that not much else.” Katie replied, shrugging. "Well Pine is the one who took him down. That case gave me the nerves it did. I'm just glad Pine got out and decided to stay with us instead of going back to being a night manager at hotels. Charming and handsome fellow he is. He even managed to snag Roper's girl for a while but it didn't last too long. Enough about him now, you're about to find out more on him soon." The elevator made the noise signaling they had reached their destination. Katie once again had to calm herself and shake any nerves off. She had to tell herself that things were going to be ok and that she had to act professional. 

The sound of their footsteps padding along the wooden floor mingled in with the raindrops hitting the window at the end of the hall. “Here we are-” Angela said under her breath and knocked on the door, “Oi! Pine, you in there?” She waited for a moment before knocking on the door again before finally hearing footsteps. Several latches were undone before the man known as “Pine” finally opened the door. Katie’s heart stopped for a moment as this man was absolutely drop dead gorgeous. Her green eyes were wide as she took his appearance in from his lithe form, piercing blue eyes, dark blonde hair, chiseled jawline, and prominent forehead. Angela was right when she said he was handsome, but handsome was not a strong enough word for him. “Angela? Is there something wrong?” His deep voice caused chills to run through Katie’s body. Dear lord, not only was he stunning but his voice was enough to make a woman’s panties vanish. “No, no. Not at all. I’ve just come to introduce you to your partner for the mission ahead.” Angela stepped back, holding her arm out and slightly nudging Katie forward. Jonathan’s attention turned to the shorter woman in front of him and his expression softened a little. Shyly, Katie extended her hand out and gave a small smile “I’m Katie O’Connor uh, I have an extremely Irish name. It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Pine.” She blushed and chuckled nervously at her dumb joke. Katie felt like she was in high school all over again with how awkward she felt. The American woman flinched a little as Jonathan took her hand to shake it, her eyes quickly darting away before looking back at him. This man’s hand was incredibly warm and oddly comforting, which made Katie feel a little bad that she flinched. Pine noticed her flinch, but decided against questioning her on it as it was probably just a nervous tick. He flashed a smile and returned the chuckle at her dumb joke. “The pleasure is mine and yes it is extremely Irish.” He released her hand before turning to Angela, waiting for anything else for her to tell them so he could get back to packing. 

“Now that we are all settled with introductions, I will be taking Katie to show her to the flat and then making my way to pick up my little one. I expect the both of you to be at my office at 6 AM sharp with your belongings packed and ready to go. I’m just praying for the love of anything living that the train to Moscow isn’t stalled. I’ll see you tomorrow, Pine. Come on then love! Let’s get you tucked in.” Angela turned, waving to Katie. The short brunette gave a smile to Jonathan and waved shyly before hastily heading back to Angela. The man watched as the two women walked down to the elevator and was puzzled by his boss’s choice in a partner. It wasn’t that he had anything against her pick, he was more than happy to have an attractive young lady on his team. He had to wonder why Katelyn O’Connor of all people though. Pine was very much aware of who this girl was and he slid back inside of his flat, closing the door and covering his face. Flashbacks of his time serving in Iraq surge forth and the screams of his squad echoed in his brain. Tears stung his eyes as guilt crawled up into his throat from the memory of leaving Katie’s older brother behind, as he begged for help while a bomb strapped to his chest ticked away. Pine would forever blame himself for his friend’s death and wished that he had been the one to die instead of Cameron. 

Once Angela had bid her farewells after showing Katie to her new home, the young woman began to set up. She had not the faintest idea that she would be sharing a flat building with her partner let alone have it be someone intimidatingly handsome. Yet, there was something odd about Jonathan Pine that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “Hey Cam.” She sighed, pulling a picture of her late brother out, placing it at her bedside. “I’m here in London, can you believe it? I’m out of that house and traveling the world!” She sat on her bed and smiled to the frame. “I know you wouldn’t be too happy with me sort of following you in your footsteps, but I wanted to be just like you. Mom and Dad were really hesitant at first at letting me go but I convinced them this is a chance for me to explore the world.” She picked the picture up and licked her finger, smudging some dirt from the glass off. Katie smiled sadly as she set the picture down and felt her chest and throat warm up from the oncoming tears. “I wish you were still here to see how far I’ve come. Shit, I-I even managed to escape Travis, even if you were long gone before him. I know you still watch over me and I know you would have probably been locked up if you got a hold of him.” She chuckled through the beginning of a sob before sniffling and wiping her eyes. “I gotta get going now. I’m going to Moscow tomorrow for the beginning of my mission. I’m pretty much all set but, my boss Angela told me I should probably try to get to know my partner… H-He seems nice.” Her hands clenched together as fear now made its course through her small frame. “I don’t think h-he’ll hurt me. He’s not Travis or those nasty old men from my retail days. No he’s not.” Katie gasped suddenly, noticing that her anxiety was getting the better of her and causing her to hold her breath. She shook her head and let out a quiet sob, sitting on the bed completely before pulling her knees in on herself. Who was she kidding? She was absolutely terrified to be alone with a man taller and stronger than her. Ever since she had left her abuser, not once did Katie even consider to look for another chance at romance. This only made her fear of men worse and she even lost a few friends because of how terrified she was to go out. It was only a year ago in 2018 that she finally decided to grow a backbone and shake off whatever fear she had. She would not let the past repeat itself and uncurled herself, smacking her face with her hands and taking a deep breath in. “You’re gonna be fine little fox.” She muttered to herself, using the endearing term her brother used to call her. Katie hopped off the bed and took one last look at herself in the mirror, grimacing at her puffy eyes. She would wait before going up to ask Pine if he wanted to grab something to eat. 

After about 15 minutes later, Katie calmed down and fished her worry stone from her suitcase. Naturally, it was a Petoskey stone from a camping trip back home. She shoved it into her pocket before grabbing her jacket as she had underestimated London’s weather earlier. “Keys, phone, wallet, knife, spray, money, lock pick, ok I think I’m good.” She huffed, looking down at her attire she changed into as the skirt from earlier had proven to be a poor choice. Instead, she opted for a large hoodie, skinny jeans, sneakers, socks, jacket, and a tee shirt under her hoodie. She was cozy and felt that this was appropriate for the weather. Locking her door, she headed to the elevator and reached Pine’s floor. She felt less anxious than the first time she had walked down with Angela. Nervously, she raised her hand as she arrived at Pine’s flat and knocked on the wood door. “Uh, Pine?” her voice cracked and she shoved her hands into her pockets. Once again, several locks were unlatched before the door opened with Jonathan looking surprised to see her. “Oh, hey! Er, Katie yeah?” He gave a fake smile, trying to not think about her brother and his guilt over his death. “Y-Yeah! Uh you don’t have to but uh, Angela suggested that maybe uh… We go grab a pint? Maybe get to know each other a little before we buckle down? I-If not that’s totally cool, I get it.” The brunette held her hands up and gave an awkward grin. She low key hoped he would say no and save her the trouble of being a nervous wreck. 

“Yeah, that’s a good idea actually.” He replied. 

“What? Wait, you will? Great! Great… Do you need a sec?” She leaned back and forth on her heels, her stomach growling and also in knots from his answer. 

Jonathan shook his head and opened his door, offering her to come in. It would sincerely be rude and weird of her to decline his offer so she obliged. When she brushed past him, Katie almost froze as he smelled faintly of cigarettes and a delicious cologne. The scent made her cheeks turn a bright pink and her head spin slightly. “So what state are you from?” He already knew the answer, he just had to play it low as he searched for his keys. “Michigan. I’m from Metamora which issss… Here.” She held her right hand up and pointed to the spot. Sometimes Katie was rather lucky she lived in the mitten shaped state as it was easy to point out where she lived. Pine gave a smile and chuckled a little at her literal handy map, “You can also use your left hand for the Upper Peninsula, yeah?” He raised his brows at her and chuckled again as she immediately held her left hand over her right. A smile cracked across her face at his amusement. “It’s really pretty in the fall where I’m from. My folks actually own a place up in Tawas which is here,” She pointed it out “And my grandparents own a place in Caseville here.” She moved her finger down. Finally, Pine found his keys and looked at Katie, nodding his head to the door. "So I assume you spent summers on the lake then? Which one is that, lake huron?" It was hard for Pine not to just tell her he already knew everything about where she grew up. Cameron always talked about Katie during their down time and how he loved his little sister. In fact, she was the reason he joined the army in the first place so he could protect her. Jonathan had seen many pictures of Katie as a child and seeing her now was almost surreal as she looked nothing like the pictures anymore; aside from the brown hair and large green eyes. She had grown up beautifully and Jonathan couldn't deny that she was quite a catch. He shook his head thinking if Cameron were still here he would kick his ass for even thinking about Katie like that. 

"Yeah all the time. I was practically a fish and would come out a lobster from how burned I was." She laughed at a pleasant memory. "Anyways, I'll let you pick where to go since this is my first time outside of America." The shared feeling of discomfort eased out with the change of subject. After a few more minutes of walking, the pair finally made a decision and headed inside a cozy pub. 

The ambience of an English pub was unlike anything that an American pub ever hoped to compare to. Katie looked around in awe as they were given a table to sit at. "You were certainly right about it being your first time out of the country. You look like a Deer in headlights." Pine snorted, nodding at the younger woman. The brunette shook her head and blushed a little at her companion's jeer. "Don't be making fun of me the minute we just met!" She smiled at Jonathan and laughed a little, feeling at ease with the weirdly relaxing atmosphere. "Sorry, my mistake. I should have said you look like a tiny deer in headlights." Pine grinned and flipped the menu open, amused at the pout he was given as a reaction. "Oh now you're going after my height? I totally didn't ask to get the shit end of the stick when it came to how tall I would be." Katie rolled her eyes and snorted. The two thanked their waiter as waters were brought over and placed their orders. Jonathan leaned forward a little, smirking "You could have asked whoever was giving you the "shit end of the stick" to perhaps lower it a bit-" he gave a chuckle as Katie scoffed and playfully hit his shoulder. He didn't feel bad about his jokes at all as he had her giggling and amused. Much like Cameron, she fired back with insults of her own and seemed to even pick up on a bit of English humor despite never having been here. She must have been exposed to it when Cameron came home from duty. Pine took a swig of his beer and licked his lips, truly examining his soon to be partner. While she was short in height, she had a nice hour glass shaped body with curves to compliment her in the right areas. Naturally, his eyes lingered upon the ample bust of her chest causing a slight arousal to stir within him. Katie took a bite of her food before washing it down with her water. She decided against drinking that night as her excuse was "Moscow better serve if we get the chance to dip into the motherlands true Vodka" and she said it with a perfect accent. "So what did you do before all of this?" She bit into a pub fry and raised her brows, finding herself at ease with him. This was the first time in a long time she had felt truly comfortable with a man and she had to give herself an inward cheer for it. "I am going to assume that Angela told you I managed hotels?" He mimicked her expression and leaned back, taking another swig of his beer. Katie nodded and took another fry into her mouth, waiting for him to continue. Pine was a bit hesitant to tell her that he served as they were having a great night and started an understanding of each other. He certainly didn't want to ruin the evening with his own guilt and trying to come up with the excuse of not being able to help her brother and that it was his fault he died. "I… I served. Two tours in Iraq." He tested the waters and immediately should have known not to say anything as he noticed Katie's expression change. 

"Oh. Uh, I-I had a brother who served too. His name was Cameron." Her green eyes darted away and fingers tapped on the glass of her water. The brunette's heart sank as pieces began to fall together. She had seen Jonathan Pine before in pictures that her brother sent home. Albeit, he was younger and still very much handsome. Any chemistry that had built between the two was now gone and panic struck Jonathan. "Kate, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you before." He noticed her shift uncomfortably and start to pack her belongings. She froze at the name he called her as only Cameron referred to her by that. "Do NOT call me Kate." Tears welled up in her eyes and she stood abruptly, pulling her money out and nervously shuffling over to where she had to pay. This was the friend who told her brother all of the jokes that he gave unto her. This was one of Cameron's best friends… And the very person who watched him die. She felt around her pockets and noticed her phone was gone. Quickly she head back over and gave Pine one last look, "See you tomorrow." She muttered before rushing out as fast as she could. The pub was relatively close to their flat so she didn't need any sort of guidance. Jonathan grit his teeth together and ran a hand through his short curly locks. Brilliant. Some spy he was. How in the world was he supposed to work with the little sister of the friend he killed while on duty? Only time would tell and Pine certainly hoped like hell that it would heal the wound too. 

#the night manager #flowers in blood #the night manager canon divergence #fanfic #jonathan pine x ofc #my writing #writing #angela burr #jonathan pine #rob singhal #ofc #spies in love

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part I (x OC)

Summary: Our favorite couple has some catching up to do. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (or xOC)

Category: hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings/Includes: descriptions of Mexico and prison; they have a sleepover, but it’s just talking and sleeping 🥰

Word count: 3.5k

a/n: Here we go!!!!! We’re picking up from right where we left off in tmsidk part X. 

Song Rec: The Luckiest by Ben Folds

Series Masterlist

———

“Do you— would you want to— come upstairs?” he asked. 

Spencer stood in front of her, unsure of what to do with his hands. Maggie was absolutely radiant— bathed in the very last of the golden daylight and more beautiful than he even remembered. All he wanted to do was hug her again and never let go.

She shook her head, and he tried not to instantly deflate. “I have to feed Roald.” She smiled a little at him and restarted his heart. “But would you want to come over? We could order somethi—”

“Yes— yes.” She let out a quiet laugh at his eagerness, and he wanted to hear that sound every day for the rest of his life. “Can I— I just want to drop this stuff off and change, and then I’ll, um.” He gestured vaguely to her. “Should I drive you or do you want to walk or I can just— meet you? Whatever— whatever you want.”

“I’m gonna head back now and take care of Roald. Take your time, and just— well, here.” She held out her hand. “I’ll put my number in your phone, and you can just text me when you’re on your way.”

He fumbled the phone out of his pocket, placed it into her outstretched hand, and nearly vibrated with the way her fingers brushed over his. She stared at the unsophisticated phone in her hand. “You weren’t kidding about the technology thing, huh?”

He ran a hand down the back of his neck and shrugged. “I prefer to keep things simple.”

“I haven’t seen a T9 keyboard since I was in high school. This is a relic,” she laughed and then gave him a soft smile. “And… very you.”

He watched her fingers as she pressed along the tiny keys, still sort of in shock that she was here, that he was getting a second chance, that she wanted to do this with him. She handed the phone back to him and then stuffed her hands in her pockets. “So, I’ll see you in a little bit?”

He nodded and gave her his best smile. She stepped forward into his space, and his eyes went a little wide as she leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. She stepped back with a smile, then waved and turned on her heel headed to her car. 

He stood rooted to the spot until she had disappeared from view, then let out a long breath and looked down at the small screen of his phone at her contact information. His lips twitched at the name she’d given herself. 

Miss Honey <3

…

Forty five minutes later, Spencer smoothed down the front of his cardigan and blew out a sigh. He’d spent five of those minutes reveling in the magic that was Maggie, and the other forty convincing himself that she’d already changed her mind. But he was a man in love, and so he was standing in front of her building, willing himself to press her buzzer. 

He was jolted out of his stupor by the buzzing of his phone. He pulled the device from his pocket and saw her name on the tiny screen, hesitating only a moment before pressing the button to answer. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He could hear her smile through the tinny speaker, and it immediately set him at ease. “I was just checking to make sure you remembered where you were going.”

“Yeah, I— I’m outside now, actually,” he confirmed. 

“Oh, great! I’ll buzz you up.” 

The door buzzed open, and Spencer pocketed his phone, stepping into the small foyer. He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants as he made his way to the staircase. He had barely taken the first step when she called, “It’s the third floor!”

He barely resisted the urge to take the stairs two at a time. When he reached the landing of the third floor, she was standing in the doorway in a purple sweatshirt, sweatpants, and fuzzy socks with dragons on them. He couldn’t help but grin.

“Hey.” She returned his smile. “Come on in.” She moved aside and waved him into her apartment. 

He stepped over the threshold, and she closed the door behind him. “I can take your coat. Feel free to leave your shoes there. Roald will be in hiding for the next half hour or so,” she informed him. 

He shrugged out of his coat and handed it to her, looking briefly around the tidy space. The walls of her living room were a calming mint green, adorned with plenty of art and photographs. Her couch was a blush pink velvet, exactly as soft as she was. 

“Okay, I’m starving,” she admitted, turning to hang his coat in the coat closet. “We can order pizza, Indian, Thai— any preference?”

He shook his head. “No, whatever you want.”

She closed the closet door and cocked an eyebrow. “So if I wanted to order a huge pizza with extra cheese, you’d be cool with that?”

“Sure, absolutely,” he nodded. 

She tilted her head. “Even with your dairy thing?”

He was surprised that she even remembered such a tiny detail from all those months ago, and his heart would have fluttered if he wasn’t so focused on making as few waves as possible. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d made a mistake letting him back in, and he didn’t want to do anything that would cause her to rethink her decision. “Well, it’s— it’s just a sensitivity, not a true allergy. Although it’s gotten a bit worse in recent years. But really, whatever you want to do is fine.”

He suddenly struggled to make eye contact, feeling overwhelmingly awkward and out of place. Now that he was here in her apartment, it was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped. He cracked the knuckles on each finger as he waited for it. She let out a small sigh, and he braced himself for impact. 

“Why don’t you come sit?”

Her voice was quiet, and then her hand on his arm was soft, and she was leading him to the couch and sitting down next to him. She kept some distance between them, placed her hands in her lap, and then she was still for a long moment. He could feel her eyes on him, but he wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t know if she wanted him to say anything at all.

“You know I forgive you, right?” The question was tentative. He met her eyes, and he didn’t see the regret or pity that he expected. There was something else there; something he couldn’t quite decipher. “Because I do. Forgive you. You apologized, and you meant it, and you allowed me space and time to process. And that’s— that’s all I could have asked for.”

As seemed to always be the case, the task of articulating what he was feeling began to crush him under its weight. The words were there, but he couldn’t get the order right. If it were anyone else, he would have just evaded the conversation entirely. But he’d promised her that he would try. After everything he’d put her through, Maggie deserved that much. 

He breathed in through his nose, expelling it in a sigh. “I’ve just— I’ve spent the last month thinking about this— about you— pretty much exclusively,” he admitted, staring at his hands. “And I’m just realizing that I never really… allowed myself to think about what would happen next, because I wasn’t sure that this would happen at all.” He gestured between them and then looked at her. “And now I’m here— with you, and I just— it’s…” He let out a sigh. 

“Doesn’t live up to expectations?” she prompted. 

His eyes went wide, and he moved closer to her on the couch. “No— god, no.” He instinctively reached for her hand, felt that electricity again when she allowed him to lace their fingers together. He was already making a mess of things. “You always exceed expectations.” He shook his head, and she squeezed his hand. “I just— I don’t… I don’t wanna mess this up.”

She covered their intertwined fingers with her other hand, rubbed her thumb along his. “I don’t think you will. Something tells me you don’t typically make the same mistake twice,” she inferred.

He laughed a little at that, and she gave him a sweet smile, and then she said, “So, no pizza. How about Indian?”

…

They were just cleaning up the last of the take out containers when Roald made his way out of Maggie’s bedroom. 

“There he is! Hey, buddy,” Maggie cooed, leaning down to give Roald a quick pet. She gave Spencer a sheepish smile. “He takes a while to warm up to new faces, so don’t be offended if he’s not—”

She was stopped mid-sentence by Roald’s decision to make a beeline for him. The cat stopped to give a cursory sniff before weaving between Spencer’s legs, purring loud enough that they could both hear it. Maggie’s mouth dropped open a bit as he leaned down to scratch between Roald’s ears. 

“He— he is never that friendly,” she said incredulously. “There really is something about you, Dr. Reid.”

He looked up at her with a smile. “I’m just glad he approves. Would have been kind of awkward otherwise.” 

“He’s a very good judge of character, so that bodes well for you,” she confirmed.

“Oh yeah?” Spencer scratched underneath Roald’s chin, grinning at the contented cat. He brought his gaze back to her, standing back to his full height when he realized she’d moved… a lot closer. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he watched her eyes track the motion. 

“Yeah.”

He thought back to that night nearly two months ago, the way his mouth had verged on violent when she’d kissed him. He hated that their first kiss was tainted with his foolishness, that he’d marred that memory for them both. He couldn’t take it back, and he wasn’t certain that she wanted to kiss him now, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking. 

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please,” she breathed.

He brought his hands to her face and used a gentle grip to pull her in. She rested her warm palms against his waist and let her fingers dig in, holding herself steady as his lips met hers. 

He kept the kiss as soft as she deserved, opening his mouth to let her in but letting her lead and take him wherever she wanted to go. Her hands slid around to his back, and she tugged him in closer. He left one hand cradling her face but moved the other to the small of her back and pulled her flush against him. 

She huffed out a tiny breath against his mouth, her lips turning up in a smile that he could feel in his toes. She brought one hand up to his jaw, rubbed her thumb across his cheek and then wound her fingers into his hair. She tangled them in his curls and tugged just enough to break the kiss, pressing their foreheads together with a sigh. 

“If it’s all the same to you, I think I’m just gonna wipe our first kiss from my memory and replace it with that one,” she murmured. 

“I’m very much on board with this rewrite,” he agreed. 

“Excellent.” She used the hand in his hair to pull him forward into another quick kiss. Roald made his presence known at their feet with a loud meow, pulling a laugh from both of them. 

They de-tangled themselves from each other, and Maggie ran a hand through her hair. “It’s getting late.” He nodded in agreement, although he never wanted this night to end. And then she continued, “Do you wanna, um— do you wanna stay the night? I’m sure I can find some comfy clothes that’ll fit you.”

He’d been a ship on a turbulent sea for the past two months, just barely staying afloat at times. It had been heart wrenching and nerve wracking and terrifying— and all of his own doing. And in one night, she’d anchored his vessel amongst the crashing waves. A solution kit, a hug, forgiveness, a kiss, and now this. 

His racing mind came to a standstill. The near constant noise was quieted. The turbulent sea became calm, still waters. 

“I’d really, really like that.”

…

Spencer ended up in an XXL t-shirt from a school fundraiser and a pair of stretchy bike shorts. Maggie had managed to scrounge up a new toothbrush from the back of the cabinet, and they brushed their teeth together with foamy smiles in the bathroom mirror. 

It had taken very little convincing for Spencer to agree to share the bed. Maggie climbed in under the covers, settling back against the pillows and turning down the duvet for him to join her. He held up one finger and disappeared out into the living room, returning a minute later with the solution kit in hand. He moved to the bed, sliding in between the soft sheets and pulling up the duvet. 

He leaned back against the pillows and turned toward her, opening the box. “This is the most incredible thing anyone has ever done for me,” he admitted. “Can you, um— explain them to me? Some of them I figured out, but others— well, I just want to hear you, really.”

She scooted closer to him and leaned over to look in the box. “The first few are pretty self-explanatory. This one,” she said, pulling out a picture of her with her hands over her heart and belly, “is taking deep breaths until you’re calm and ready to try again. This one is reading a favorite book— which I know will take you about five minutes,” she joked. 

She retrieved the card with the clip art book, and then the one behind it with a pencil and paper. “You can try to write down the difficult thoughts and feelings to get them out of your headspace.” The next card had a picture of an old rotary phone. “Hmmm, almost a match to the dinosaur phone you actually have,” she teased. “But it’s an option to call someone. Could be your mom, or a friend, or—”

“Or you? Could I call you?”

She looked up to find his eyes on her and smiled. “Yeah. You can call me, too.” She pressed a soft kiss to his mouth, and— not for the first time that night— he could not believe how lucky he was. 

She drew back to pull out the next card: a clip art rendering of a desktop computer. “Oh! This one is for researching something. I know you’ve got a seemingly endless encyclopedia of knowledge up there,” she tapped on his temple, “but there’s always something new to learn. And teaching yourself something can help you feel capable in moments where you’re feeling— a little helpless.” 

There was also a small wooden puzzle cube in the box. She took it from the box and held it up in front of them. “I know your IQ will probably solve this thing in fifteen seconds, but at least it’ll be a nice fidget toy,” she laughed.

The last card in the box was a picture of a timer. “This one might seem kind of dumb, but sometimes it helps me to set a timer to remind myself that feeling shitty is a temporary state of being.” She held the card between her fingers and shrugged. “Even if I’m still feeling less than great after the timer goes off, it usually gives me the boost I need to move forward.” 

She gathered all the cards in her hands, shuffling them and then placing them back in the box. “You can add your own options as you think of them. This was just a starter set.” 

He closed the lid of the box and set it on the bed between them. He reached for her hand, and she immediately threaded their fingers together. He rubbed his thumb along her impossibly soft skin and took a deep breath. 

“The timer isn’t dumb. I, um— I did something similar in prison.” She squeezed his hand. “I kept track of the— the days on this little spot on the wall. Every time it felt like I couldn’t take another day, I’d count the marks and remind myself that I— that I’d survived that long. That I could make it another day.”

He went quiet, and Maggie sat up a little in bed, brushed her free hand over his hair. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I want to.” It wasn’t a lie. He wanted to talk to her about it. He wanted to talk to her about everything. He wanted to let her into the shadowy corners of his mind that he kept from everyone else.

“If you’re sure, then I’m right here.” She pulled their intertwined fingers into her lap and leaned over to press a kiss to his shoulder. 

When she pulled back, he let out a long breath. He watched her thumb as it traced an unwavering line across the back of his hand. “I was, um— I was in Mexico getting an experimental Alzheimer’s drug for my mom. I’d been going down there for a few months, and it wasn’t ideal, but the medication really seemed to be helping her. And I was just— I was desperate. Desperate for anything that would give me more time with her. More lucid, meaningful time, you know?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

“It wasn’t the, uh— drug that got me arrested,” he admitted. “There was an unsub— one of the serial killers that we put away a few years ago— a psychopathic, narcissistic hitwoman who had this— I don’t know, vendetta against me, I guess. She, um— she manipulated another woman into drugging me and framing me for the murder of the doctor I was getting the medication from.” 

He could feel her eyes on him, and he drew his brows together. “I know the— the whole thing sounds completely absurd— fictional even,” he admitted. “She used a mix of drugs called sevoflurane and scopolamine to trigger dissociation and hallucination, which made it really— um... For a long time, I couldn’t tell which of my memories were real and which were drug-induced delusions.”

He focused on the motion of her thumb against his skin. “The team got me out of the prison in Mexico, but because I went against FBI protocol when I crossed the border, the Bureau wouldn’t fund my legal representation here. Emily hired a great lawyer, but the judge was less than sympathetic. And it really, um— snowballed from there.”

He took a deep breath. “I was sent to Millburn, which is a maximum security prison, and then I didn’t get the protective custody detail, so I was in general population, but I didn’t want to hurt people or move drugs, so I got the shit kicked out of me for a while, and then my friend Luis was killed in front of me, and I—”

Spencer didn’t realize he was crying until Maggie’s hands were on his face, wiping the tears before pulling him into her arms. “A-and then I poisoned the drugs, which just ended up hurting a bunch of people who didn’t deserve to get hurt. And then I got outed as an agent, and my mom got abducted, and I stabbed myself to get put in solitary, but I wasn’t safe there either, and I really thought... I was sure I was going to die there.”

He wrapped his arms around her middle and tucked his face into her shoulder as the hurricane of his agony swirled and raged and then swept out as quickly as it rolled in. She soothed his cries and held him against her, never rushing or shushing him. Eventually, his weeping dwindled to quiet sniffles, his heaving breaths faded to drawn sighs. She kept him anchored through all of it, rocking him gently from side to side and calming his shattered frame.

When he finally quieted, she released him and pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. His chest tightened at her tear-stained cheeks, and he brought his hands up to wipe at them uselessly. When his hands fell back to his lap, she sniffled a little before taking a deep breath, releasing it on a shaky sigh. 

“The choices you made kept you alive, Spencer. They were—  impossible, horrific choices that I’m sure just—” She shook her head, searching for the right words. “I’m sure the weight of the guilt and grief has to be unbearable sometimes,” she surmised. “And there’s nothing I can say that will make that any less true.” 

She cupped his face in her hands, swiping at the fresh tears with her thumbs. “But I’m... I’m so selfishly thankful for every choice you made. Because it was the perfect set of decisions in that it brought you here. To me…” The tears tracked hot down her cheeks, and she took a shaky breath. “And I feel so unbelievably lucky and so incredibly grateful to have you.”

He had her wrapped up in his arms before she’d even finished the sentence. “I never believed in luck,” he mused. He pressed a kiss into her hair and closed his eyes. “I’m still not sure if I do. But I can tell you that I’m the luckiest.”

———

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[illshowyourhurricanes]

Heat Wave

This drabble turned 2000+ word one shot is brought to you by this fantastic request from @the-blind-assassin-12​:

This took forever and took a completely different direction than the one I had planned. Thank y’all for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Image prompt 8: Ryan Brenner x reader (related to Bah, Humbug and In the Line of Fire (part two) which can both be found in my masterlist)

Rating: PG for slight language

Word count: 2167

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When you’d left home at the crack of dawn for a job interview— which had gone surprisingly well thanks to Starbucks and an extra shot of espresso— you’d needed something far warmer than the lightweight blazer you’d grabbed on your way out the door. Now, just before noon, you had shed your blazer that had proven to be insufficient earlier, yet you still felt hot in just your sleeveless blouse and pencil skirt. You thought a perk of moving farther up north would be the mild, temperate climate. It was your first Indian summer, though you’d lived in the area for a year, and you had decided it was bullshit. What had happened to the cool, crisp autumn you’d fallen in love with a year ago?

When you pulled open the heavy glass door of the post office, a cold blast of air  but your skin, and you stepped inside quickly. The air conditioning felt absolutely fantastic, and you briefly wondered if people would notice if you lingered for awhile, just to soak up the cool temperature, maybe until you were even a little chilly.

You smiled at the thought as you arrived at your box, smack in the middle of the wall of post office boxes belonging to other people. There was a wall of boxes on your left, another on the back wall— yours on the right—and there were more just down the corridor. You rummaged in your bag to find the tiny brass key for P.O. Box 257, tucked away in a zippered compartment in your purse. After the third time it had fallen off your key ring, you decided to hide it away in a more safe, reliable place. 

After locating your key and unlocking your box, you stared at the unexpected abundance of envelopes that had piled up over the last week.  Who knew so many people still send paper mail?  It took two times reaching into the small box to pull out every piece of mail, mostly tuning out to be junk or credit card companies offering you low interest rates. Only then was the box empty— almost. Retrieving the one remaining piece of mail at the bottom of your box, you smiled as you realized who it was from, locking the box back before giving the postcard a good look. It was rare that Ryan sent you postcards.

They were usually letters tucked away inside envelopes, words hidden for only you to see. The decorative side of the card displayed a vintage style print, a drawing of a wooden fence leading out onto a beach of white sand bordering sky blue waters. Welcome to Orange Beach! it boasted in a series of light green block letters, fading into yellow. 

You flipped the card around to see Ryan’s familiar handwriting, a mixture of print that sometimes led off to a few letters of scrawled script:

Just passing through. All the sunshine brings you to mind. See you soon. 

You could hear the cadence of his voice, the dropping off of the G at the end of certain  words, the slight twang that tugged at his pronunciation of vowels. Your smile grew into a grin as you glanced at the postmark, reading September 3rd. Your eyes widened into saucers as you recalled today’s date. Ryan’s postcard must have gotten lost in the shuffle of the mail circuit— the post date was over two weeks ago. 

You shrugged it off and secured your key back into the small pocket on the inside of your purse just before tucking Ryan’s postcard inside. With an armful of the rest of your mail, you braced yourself for the assault of the inevitable sweltering  heat.

 Fucking Indian summer. 

                                             ***          ***          ***

Ryan was just passing through after a rousing five days in Virginia,  where he’d met up with Georgie. Where he was going next was still on the table. Instead of restless, he felt fulfilled, still riding the high of busking with his close friend, both of them splitting the money they’d made halfway. He and Georgie played well together, and it usually paid off. He’d shedded his coat and hoodie, managing to stuff the hoodie into his pack and hang the thicker layer around one of the straps of the large bag. His ever-present guitar case, the black leather wearing off around the edges, was clutched tightly in his right hand as he paused near a crosswalk. Squinting in the sunlight, he was grateful for the small shadow the bill of his cap provided.  With the transition of the streetlights from green to yellow to red, he crossed the street and walked one more block to reach the post office. 

He was low on stamps, had just two left to be exact. Ryan kept in touch with a handful of people and had a flip phone, but he preferred writing letters. They felt more personal, gave him the time to think about what he was saying and write them in a way that he’d stumble on while talking. There were also times when his phone would be dead for days. 

It was mid-July, the thick of the summer, and he could feel beads of sweat forming along his forehead, though it was before noon. The old government building was once red-bricked, but had been washed with white in order to modernize the place. The upkeep added a nice touch as well, neatly trimmed bushes contrasting against the bright paint. He pulled at the metal handle on the right of a set of non-paned French doors, the temperature of the air inside bringing instant relief. The building was eerily quiet, the only sounds lowered voices at one end of the building, the light scraping of paper against metal as patrons picked up their mail. Turning toward the sounds of conversation, he walked down the corridor and turned with the layout of the building. 

He was surprised at the line of people waiting, a few solitary people in casual attire, one or two dressed in clothing appropriate for the workplace littered between. There was a mother with a stroller holding a sleeping toddler, an elderly couple, and one woman alone in front of him. He nodded politely as you turned your head to the side in curiosity in order to see what type of brave soul had come up behind you to patiently wait for their turn. You saw a man who was about your age, and offered him a friendly smile, turning around to face him.

Ryan instantly found you absolutely stunning. Your smile brightened your entire face, your features all striking, as if they’d been hand-picked specifically for you.. 

“Good morning,” you said, greeting him casually as if the two of you had been acquainted a long time ago, old friends. “How about that heat wave?”

Ryan chuckled, surprised at your unaffected manner and genuine friendliness. He noticed the way you surveyed his clothing, eyes quickly glancing to your guitar case before lifting to  his face again. Your expression hadn’t changed or faltered a bit, that smile still in place. That was a rarity, something Ryan hadn’t come across in quite some time. 

He returned your smile with a slightly crooked smile of his own. There’s some thin’ about this woman, he thought to himself.  She’s authentic. A good heart, a kind soul. A fire burning within her. Ryan thought that if she was burning bright, he’d volunteer to stand a bit too close to her flames and would pay no mind to the sharp sting of a burn. 

“Mornin’,” he replied good-naturedly. “I think I’m used to all sorts of weather, but then a heat wave hits and reminds me I’m wrong.” Ryan looked at you with warm eyes, spoke with a low drawl that made you weak. “Name’s Ryan, pleasure to meet you.”

                                          ***       ***         ***

It was eerily quiet when you got home, but the silence was just what you needed. You felt like you needed about three showers to wash away the sweat and sticky humidity that clung to your skin, and the only thing that delayed you was the kicking off of your shoes and dumping your purse and mail onto your couch. 

After your shower, water temperature lukewarm at best, you felt human again, revitalized. You’ve mulled around ideas for dinner in the back of your mind, made a quick detour into your bedroom, and returned to that couch you’d tossed your things upon, holding a shoebox. Opening the box as you sat and balancing it in your lap, you reached for your purse, pulling out the postcard you’d received, albeit two weeks too late. 

Lifting the thick stack of envelopes that were quickly outgrowing their box, you slipped the postcard picture-down into the bottom of the shoebox. Smiling softly, you brought your legs up, crossing them like a child, and plucked several envelopes from the middle of your stack, devouring the letters that you’d read dozens of times before. 

Y/N, 

Made a quick decision to hop off in New Orleans before heading off toward Chicago. The train station here is directly connected to a streetcar line that leads straight into the French quarter. Maybe I’ll take a ride next time. Maybe you’ll take one with me. 

I thought about you most of the day, the way you’d stop to listen to a three-piece zydeco band in Jackson square. I imagine how you’d look with powdered sugar on the tip of your nose from beignets, and the slow nod of approval when you taste real, authentic gumbo. 

I heard the roaring of a streetcar clacking over its tracks and knew that I needed to write to you that very  second. I miss you, Y/n. Wish it was me & you riding that streetcar to wherever it would take us. 

                                                                                           Ryan 

Have you ever been to Vegas, Y/N? Beyond all the neon lights, the ritzy hotels and big-name shows, the electricity of the city shifts. Contrary to what other people might think, it’s a great place to play music, beyond the strip, along a street lined with benches and a slight change of pace..  more of a scenic, less chaotic feeling. People stop, and they listen. Really listen. Sometimes I’ll get accolades instead of money, but that’s what it’s all about— telling stories with hope that people can enjoy them and relate.

It’s time for me to go out for the day. Can’t wait until you’re the audience I’m singing to. 

                                                                                          Ryan

Y/N, 

I’m just writing to tell you that Memphis not only has the best bbq, but also the best peach cobbler. Georgia’s got nothing on Tennessee. 

                                                                                             Ryan

Sometimes, when you really thought about it in retrospect, it was wild. In the space of time that you and Ryan shared as a unit, an entire human could be born; the biology of. growing from cells into a living, breathing, viable human being. An entire new life could be created. 

And throughout the last nine months, you, with Ryan’s help, had created a new life of your own. You had a boyfriend, one who was absent far more than he was around, yet managed to never weaken his connection. No matter where in the country Ryan’s trains took him, he’d write. There was no way for you to write back to a man with no address, not in a manner of space and time anyway. But in your new life, none of it was liner. The only time that mattered was when Ryan was there with you, and that was when he got your letters. You always responded, saving your words to give to him next time. 

Next time. You slid folded paper back into envelopes, a grin breaking into your face as you heard the sound of heavy boots over your wooden porch. Dropping Ryan’s letters back into the shoebox right on time, you replaced the lid as the door opened and shut. There was a soft thudding of his guitar case being set into a corner, and you stood to pad through the house in bare feet. 

You met Ryan in the kitchen, watching him down almost an entire cold bottle of water. You adored this man who had needed to buy stamps while stopped in your town, stepping into the post office you’d been waiting in, all by chance. You had never been happier than when Ryan was home. 

“Good afternoon,” you greeted him. As he set aside his bottle of water, you rose to your tiptoes to give him a kiss, his lips chilled from the water. Snaking your arms around him, you leaned back and looked at him, a playful glint in your eyes. “How about that heat wave?”

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[vmfx]

YOU NEVER FORGET YOUR FIRST TIME.

We arrive at William Floyd High in the nighttime as the entire Brentwood wrestling team stepped off the bus. We enter through those front doors walking past the usual itinerary of granite floors, glass windows, metal lockers, trophy displays, plaques, and various achievements and group photos of people our age that we didn’t know. That was always the case when traveling with the team to any foreign-to-us high-school because we were only used to seeing our own halls and friends every day but most of us never cared to think about what kind of lives the kids from other schools lead.

Line up, enter the locker room. Drop your duffel bags onto the wooden bench, get undressed to the zeros. Throw your apparel in the locker. Don’t smile. Line up again, walk to the scale, step right up, tack up your weight, step off. Proceed to unlock your apparel to get dressed. Put your singlet on, your team jacket, your team pants, your wrestling shoes, hold onto your headgear, and then eat since your weight has been certified to the last pound right before you would qualify up to the heavier weight classes. Don’t smile. Now huddle as a team so the coach gives you a run-down of what to expect. Warm up, jump around, pace it. Keep moving, shoot and snap a little. Break a sweat, get pumped up, put your game-face or ego on, and wait in the hall until the team proceeds to the opponent’s gymnasium.

Five minutes before we head to the gym, I find out that our teammate Grillo was given an opportunity to wrestle a female, an extreme anomaly in the world of high-school wrestling since it’s a boy’s sport. Grillo ultimately turned down the chance to wrestle her. Why? Was it because he would feel guilty in roughing up a woman? No. Was it because he preferred the challenge of a male opponent since his perception of a wrestler of the opposite sex would be weak? No.

Grillo didn’t want to take the chance in losing against her. He didn’t want to put his supposed manhood on the line to deal with the ridicule from now until the end of high-school. He didn’t seem right about it. He had every right to turn her down. It wasn’t the only time this season one of our guys couldn’t wrestle an available female opponent. Another teammate, Pud, was upset because his pulled out at the last minute: she was having her period.

But one man’s failure is another man’s opportunity. As Grillo passed up an opportunity to experience something notable to tell his future children or his closest drinking buddies, lo and behold, our coach instead gives me the opportunity to wrestle her.

Of course, I said yes.

**********

The junior varsity string lined up at the entrance of the William Floyd Colonials’ gym as we said “Our Father”. We were given the signal to storm right on through the gym, onto the mat running in circles and closing in to the center, exploding in a battle cry of “BRENTWOOD!”. We now take our seats waiting for our junior varsity (read “exhibition”) matches to begin. A none-too-shabby well-lit gymnasium of pale-colored walls, championship banners, one huge wrestling mat squared center, and wooden benches somewhat occupied by friends, parents, family, students, and tiny clusters of girls huddling close to each other checking out their latest wrestler crushes like they’d be no big deal next month.

Four matches into the night, my teammates tapped me on the shoulder to get my attention. They point to my opponent from across the gym on the Colonials’ side warming up to get ready. Short straight black neck-length hair, darker skin, full-figured build, thick but not fat nor muscular, and buxom. It was her all right. At that moment I knew, and the team knew, that we were in for something quite the un-ordinary.

91, 98, 106, 111, 118, 126, 132, 137. They all came and went. One after another, shake hands with the enemy and at the sound of the referee’s whistle they clashed. Wrestlers coming towards each other as Aries rams locking horns together, roughing each other up in hopes of putting the other man on his back. They were cheered on, whistled to, and yelled at by the coaches if they couldn’t put the hurt on their opponents like they were supposed to. But our second string team did pretty good so far. Some went for the pin, some won by points. For six minutes or less we played hard. At the end, both wrestlers came to the center, shook hands, and the ref- raises the winner’s arm in victory. Clock out and come back on the bench. You’re done for the night.

145. My number’s up. It’s the moment I have been waiting for. After skipping and shooting in place, I step to the mat and get ready. My team stands behind me to wish me good luck, patting me on the back. I walk up to the center of the mat and here she is waiting for me in a mild green and yellow singlet with a white t-shirt under it to prevent any distraction. We meet and hastily shake hands in good sportsmanship. We stance. We lock eyes. The referee’s whistle blows. Go!

First period. I shoot for her legs and tackle her. I get right to work in trying to pin her but she flips over on her stomach as I am on top of her trying to turn her back over. The referee whistles on us for stalling and we’re back up again in stance. Whistle blows. We lock up. She takes me down and is on top of me as I turn flat on my stomach. I successfully get out of position and we’re up again. After two minutes of rough and tussle, octopus arms, twists and knots the period ends.

For those first two minutes I didn’t grapple with the usual muscle, bones, sweat, vitamins, minerals, whole milk, egg yolks, and hard-knock rough-housing of wrestling a male opponent. This time I was feeling something more soft, tender and meaty; something more chewy and warm. It was the first (non-sexual) full-body contact I ever had with the opposite sex, despite the fact that it took place on a wrestling mat in a high-school gymnasium surrounded by two teams, sports personnel, and various other community bit players. No matter. Something still had to be accomplished. Contrary to what my teammates thought, I wasn’t here to get her phone number or ask her out. I was here to win.

Second period. Whistle blows. Our heads rest upon each other as we lock eyes. Both of us try to make a go for it, tapping and pushing each other for the fake out. I shoot and I go for the fireman’s carry where I grab her arm with one hand and my other free arm goes under her triangle and grabs her leg. I surge forward. I nailed it. I tackle her down on the mat. She is on her back as I am on top of her, perpendicular and stomach-to-stomach. My left arm is secured under her head and my right arm hoists her right leg in the air. For the next few seconds she is struggling to break free but the referee on his knees blows the whistle and pounds his hand on the mat, I get the pin.

We get up to brush ourselves off. We walked to the center of the mat to happily respectfully shake hands in good sportsman- / sportswoman-like conduct. The referee raises my arm in victory. My teammates and coaches smile and pat me on the back to congratulate me. Even better, this was my very first career win. History was made.

**********

“Did you touch her crotch?” “Did you cop a feel?” “Did you get on top of her?” “Did you go hard?” Those were the post-interview questions asked to me by the jack-ass male dominate jocks on my team; joking and laughing with me as they wondered how it felt in having to enjoy full body contact with a female opponent. Those same questions would also be asked by my classmates, co-workers, and future would-be people in my life should any conversation I have ever get to this point.

“Why didn’t you go all three periods with her?” one of my teammates asked me. Good point, because maybe I should have gone the whole three rounds with her and get my money’s worth for you. Perhaps I should have enjoyed myself more since this was the only time in my life I would have this opportunity but I was too busy going for the win. Maybe next time.

Later that night, the first-string varsity team easily chopped down the Colonials to shame. Another win for the Indians. Call it a night, we’re going home.

**********

The team gathered their belongings to leave William Floyd High and hopped on the bus. As an added bonus, since we won our bout, we were allowed to be in a good mood hurling insults and mama jokes at each other like all good civilized model student athletes that we were. That night, the back of the bus on the way home was rowdier than a Texas bar in the lawless 1880’s full of booze, poker, gun violence, and burlesque women. They made me the hero of the day I didn’t ask for.

What my teammate Grillo could have had was instead given to me for keeps no matter what and I could show this to any of my friends for the rest of my life. However, when straight, narrow, easily-fascinated minds are still trained on the notion that wrestling is an all-male sport, I can mention that in high-school that I wrestled a female. They won’t light up to the idea that females can wrestle in an all-male sport because they want to accomplish something and break gender barriers. Rather, they will light up only because in their minds they hear that I felt a girl.

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