#one good thing is that i’ve started to like my sober self

[writingmeraki]

hazy eyes, clear thoughts I

a roronoa zoro imagine !

synopsis : in which letting your drunken mouth spill your sober thoughts leads you to a very unexpected consequence. ( read: everyone saw it coming except you and **** )

pairing : opla!zoro x gn!reader, idiots to lovers!

genre : disgustingly fluffy fluff, five tablespoons of angst and probable romance.

warnings : cussing, mentions of alcohol and getting wasted, zoro kinda mean, probably terrible humour, shit ton of giggling, also very all over the place but kinda cute? not entirely proofread, also lmk if I forgot to add any other warning !

author's note : well oh well, look we have another totally not self indulgent zoro oneshot/drabble/imagine n e ways I hit a sort of weird point of the series, I'm stuck but i am like 87% done with ch 1?? i hope I'll be able to do it soon enough ^^ tysm for ur patience !! let me know what you think of this! also PART 2?!? ( I need to know if people wanna read this randomness further 😆😅🤣👍🏽)

word count : 4.8k

gif creds !

 “Oh-kay! I think that’s enough!”

You frowned when Nami took the drink from your hand, whining in protest when she kept it further away which she knew your drunken self would be unable to reach.

“B-but it’s good, it’s making me happy!” You giggled as you pointed at yourself and then pouted, pulling your manipulative tactic, one you did a lot when you wanted something especially one you did when you were shit-face drunk. 

With large doey eyes, you pleaded at her, “You don’t want me to be sad right? I’ll be sad if you don’t give me- that.” You pointed in a direction you thought she placed the beer but of course, it was way off.

“See, you can’t even make out where I’ve placed the beer! I don’t care if it makes you upset and honestly, it was fun to see you make a fool out of yourself, but now it’s just…sad.” She sighed, a tone of sympathy as she finished her sentence,

“I know why you’re drinking and it’s not a good way to distract yourself from your feelings! Drinking worsens the problem!” She scolded you to which you now felt a small anger form within you.

“Well then, how else am I supposed to get rid of this dread and just stupidity huh? Being sober is a constant reminder!” 

“Your feelings aren’t stupid! You like him, I’d say even love! You can’t just assume your feelings are invalid not until you know how the other person feels!” Your best friend felt a rage you’d feel if you saw someone you care about demean their feelings, a sort of anger at them hidden with laces of sympathy.

“He doesn’t fucking care! He only cares about his promises and that’s…that’s his life, his own…way of living so it’s fine!”

“Feelings to him are just…distractions.” You gulped as you recalled the way he replied to Luffy when the Captain was teasing him about falling in love. 

[ a few moments ago ]

“Zoro, don’t you think you should consider finding a partner, don’t you also want to fall in love and experience all the magical things that come with it?” Luffy teased as you all sat around a barrel, deciding to just hang out after a busy day. 

Zoro had a beer in one hand as he took a sip and then rolled his eyes, you’d been seeing his reaction, undoubtedly your heart picking up its pace when you heard the question. 

“I don’t need love, or call it a partner if you will. I already have enough on my plate, all that so-called magical stuff is just a distraction.” He replied, with no hesitation which left no option but for the listeners to believe his words.

Just because he’d spoken his opinion, it didn’t mean it hurt less. You knew it though, from the start that Zoro was a determined individual. Despite having his own goals, he also cared about others like Luffy even though he didn't show it much, less that he said it verbally.

It was what made you like him in the first place. After all, what’s more, better than a man who knows what he wants, is determined to get what he wants, cares for those he considers his friends, and the bonus cherry on top being he was quite easy on the eyes too. 

A whole package indeed. 

And you didn’t even know when your supposed “I admire him as a person to look up to” turned into “Oh, I think I am in love with him.” 

But ah, that’s the beauty of love and all the magical stuff, isn’t it? You never know when you’ll be the one who finally falls into it.

That’s why, after hearing his words, you felt your heart sink just a little. Screw it, you think you felt it weigh a shit ton and sink to the very pit of your stomach. 

Nami, oh Nami, what a friend she was truly, because immediately her eyes darted to you after Zoro’s words and she saw your expression go down just as quickly as Zoro downed his bottle of beer. 

Luffy chuckled, of course, he would, the poor lad was just teasing in the first place anyway to irk Zoro and obviously, he didn’t know about poor old you’s feelings. 

I think I need to go. 

It sucked how you couldn’t refute against him. How you couldn’t yell that love is not just a “distraction”, love is something that makes one feel more…human. Love is a wonderful thing and how if someone were to experience it, it makes you feel….it makes you feel just happy at being in the presence of the one you, love. Just…love is not…it’s not-

“Uh guys,” You piped up after sensing the tense atmosphere, tense to you anyway since you felt like a seashell was clogged up your throat. 

“I’m gonna go…get some fresh air. Yeah uh- I’ll be behind if you need me.” You abruptly got up, smiling tightly at Luffy, purposefully avoiding Nami’s questioning yet pitiful look and harshly blatantly ignoring how Zoro’s attention turned towards you, about to question you too, his face showing the emotions he’d not show before 5 bottles of beer. 

Sighing quietly, you picked up the drink you’d been downing, still having an adequate portion in it and you thought about it, saying fuck it as you grabbed two more from the stack that was in the middle.

“Continue with…your shenanigans,” You turned around and let your emotions finally show on your face, words repeatedly swinging in your head as you tried to filter them out. 

It’s nothing but a distraction.

And now, a few bottles (2) and a whole lot of giggling later, you may have truly begun to take Zoro’s words seriously. 

“I feel sick, perhaps it’s my heart breaking, see it hurts here the most.” You groaned as you looked out into the sea, pointing to your chest, though inaccurate as you held your right side, the sun appearing as a blurry blight light due to your vision becoming hazier as you got more drunk.

Nami sighed at you, realizing you should probably just be made to go to bed, despite it being only a few hours away from actual nightfall.

“Come on, let’s go, you’ve thought enough,” She stood up, having been sitting beside you on a barrel while you’d been sitting on the same.

She pushed her hand outwards towards you, to which you giggled and you were pretty sure your cheeks ached now. 

“Namii~how do you have-” you pointed your finger out, counting the fingers “-ten fingers! On one hand?!” You continued staring at her hand in awe as she rolled her eyes, a small grin on her face, finding your drunken self a tiny bit cute. 

Suddenly you felt your world stumble as she grabbed you and pulled you upwards, you now decided you did not know how to walk and leaned your entire body weight on her. 

Now, Nami wasn’t a weak person but considering how you were more on the taller side than her while also being a bit more buff due to the immense training you did every day to practice your own skills, you did weigh more.

She quickly made you sit back down when she realized she couldn't possibly carry you, she needed help.

"Stay here 'kay? I'll be back." She told you to which you obediently nodded, which made a genuine grin form on her face.

Maybe she did prefer drunk you who'd follow her orders with no protests.

You looked back at the sea, the sun even lower than before, a type of golden shining on the blues that reminded you of a certain someone's earrings and oh, there it was.

Your thoughts slowly getting consumed by the moss head who despite drinking so much to forget was so embedded deep into your memory and probably heart at this point that even the slightest similarity you saw, be it colors or flowers, reminded you of him. 

Ah, that's love and all its magical stuff am I right? 

Sighing, she made her way back to where the rest of them were, the crew picking up on her presence,

"Where's Y/N? Weren't you bringing them?" 

"Well, for one they are SHIT face drunk, I don't think they are even conscious of where they are right now so I'll need to take them to bed but also, I can't carry them alone." 

She rolled her eyes at the stupidity of drowning yourself in your feelings, quite literally but she knew she wouldn't complain to the rest of them or more so she couldn't.

"Well I'm sure, one of us can help-"

"I'll help you carry them." Zoro interrupted your captain who was just about to suggest him. If there was one who could probably carry anything heavy too, it was him of course. 

Nami eyed him curiously, she did know he wasn't ready to do…kind deeds, not unless it helped him in some way. Though, she thinks, you may just be an exception.

He stood up and walked towards where you were, which was at the back, Nami followed suit to which he turned towards her.

"It's alright if you don't come, I'm pretty sure I'll be able to carry them myself." He said it and Nami narrowed her eyes, half out of suspicion and half out of spite after hearing the cocky undertone to his words. 

Proving that was one corner of his lips being turned upwards, forming an annoyingly handsome smirk that if you saw it, you'd probably be more on the brink of absolutely losing it.

"Take care of them and if they are hurt-" Zoro rolled his eyes at the over-exaggeration, and Nami knew that but as your best friend and a platonic soulmate at this point, she felt she had to say something. 

"I don't mean it that way, you know damn well what I mean." She told firmly, to which a slight confusion did flash in Zoro's eyes but he didn't make it obvious as he glared at her, ready to bicker.

"Nami!" Luckily, Luffy's timing seemed impeccable as he called her, to which she turned around, allowing no further talk.

Zoro just brushed off her words and moved to where you were.

Despite, Zoro admitting to never wanting a partner, it didn't mean though, that he didn't feel. 

He cared. He cared enough for Luffy to stick with him. He cared enough to fulfill a promise. 

And he cared for you too as he saw you sleeping soundly, laying your head on the ship, using your hands as a makeshift pillow. 

And yet, he somehow knew it was different. It was different from how he cared for others. 

He gulped as he moved closer, now being able to see your features being highlighted by the afterglow of the sun setting. 

It was as though you were the sun's favorite child at the moment, touching parts of your face softly, careful enough to not awaken you yet enough to rest on it to make it golden. 

The evening breeze couldn't have picked a better time to pass as strands of your hair messily moved, your face scrunching up in disturbance. 

He didn't even perceive how he'd reached you and was actually touching strands of your hair to push them back in place so as to not disturb your sleep. 

He wasn't even a gentle person, but he was using soft fingers with even softer touches to push them back. 

He figured he should in fact take you back to your bed, well shared bed with Nami. 

Deciding there was no need to wake you up, he moved beside you, putting one arm underneath your knees while the other looped just above your waist and below your chest. 

You blinked open your eyes when you felt yourself floating, it seemed like you were floating for a brief second, engulfed by warm clouds and a nice pillow that was-

You looked up and saw the side profile of someone. 

They seemed familiar. 

A glint of gold caught your eye as you put your left arm up and poked the earring, giggling as you saw it move.

"Wow, pretty," You think you'd seen it but your eyes being hazier than before after your mini nap seemed to only make your vision more blurry.

The sudden exhale and whisper down his neck almost made Zoro trip as he didn't really expect you to be up.

He was just near your shared room.

"Where are you taking me? Who are you?" You asked the important questions now, your mushed brain being able to form somewhat coherent thoughts. 

"You- you don't know who I am?" He asked you, confusion in his features and then remembering why you were lost. 

Right, practically wasted. And apparently memory loss due to being wasted.

He pushed the door open, as flimsy as it was, careful to not eventually break it down.

You looked around your surroundings, now even more lost as to where you actually were.

You squealed as he let you down, immediately realizing it was a terrible idea when you almost toppled over, unable to hold your own weight as he pushed his arm around your waist.

You held onto the man's shirt as you tried not to trip and fall.

"Here I'll just- I'll get you to bed." He guided you towards your bed, hand still wrapped around your waist as he looped yours over his neck. 

You plopped down with your eyes shut, your head began spinning when you almost tripped and you groaned in regret.

"Drinking too much was such a bad idea, like all my decisions lately." You put your hand on your forehead as you tried to rub the forming headache away. 

Hearing a walking sound, you peered your eyes open. Half-open anyways as you still couldn't make out well anything.

You could see the supposed stranger who'd help you till your bed was going to turn around and likely go but at that moment, you decided you didn't really want to be…alone.

Grabbing his hand before he moved away, you pulled him back with all your force. It didn't phase his movements much though other than him halting. 

Zoro turned back to you after deciding he should probably leave before he either said something he'd regret or worse, did something he'd regret. 

It wasn't his fault though with how…cute you looked as you plopped down, making him want to ki-

"Stay…please." You whispered to him, still holding onto his wrist as you blinked at him.

A familiar green color sat on top of his head but you figured it was a common color despite being sober you absolutely made fun of it when you could about how uncommon it was but also whined about how unfairly good it looked on him. 

The same him who looked at you in confusion and disbelief,

"You want me to stay, right now? With you?"

“Of course! I feel quite alone right now, maybe the company will make me feel better here.” You let go of his arm, the loss of your colder hand in contrast to his warm skin making him slightly frown. 

You pointed at your chest, surprisingly getting it right this time by pointing toward your left side.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “Does your chest hurt or something?” 

There was a slight concern in his tone, one which made you giggle. 

“Not- not physically silly, it’s- it’s my heart, it feels like it’s been gutted- wait no too- too gruesome, it feels like someone just punched it and it broke.” As you blubbered about your heartbroken state, your words made him more curious and concerned.

He decided he should probably hear you out, after all despite not being a great talker, he’d consider himself a decent listener. 

Grabbing the barrel you used as a chair placed under your makeshift desk, he moved to sit beside your bed. 

“It’s ridiculous. I should have known there was no chance, but it isn’t like you get a choice sometimes on how you should feel about someone, it just…happens.” You spoke softly, as Zoro turned his attention toward you, wondering who was this person who’d caused you to feel so…sad. 

He didn’t realize it but he felt a slow anger build up, one he excused as frustration due to your mumbling but not one out of simply, probably, jealousy.

Yes, he was jealous of….this person because it sure as hell seemed as though you were deeply in love to have been feeling like this. 

Ironic.

“Why do I even like him?” Oh, he definitely did not want to hear you talk about him, he decided.

Screw being a good listener, he was already in a crisis when Luffy put him on the spot asking about whether he’d want a lover or not, and then him trying his best not to divert his gaze towards you, so instead he chose an option ( one he’d regret later on ) and gave a seemingly believable answer. 

Maybe a while ago, he’d have stuck to that answer, and actually no, he was sticking to it, quite well too.

That was until you stumbled onto the crew or more like in true Luffy fashion, were persuaded enough to stay. 

At first, he didn’t care enough. It was more so he didn’t particularly like you too. You were what he was not. Careless, overly enthusiastic at times, and way too optimistic for your own good. You looked to see the good in everyone, believing that there was always some sort of goodness in everyone.

Zoro found that stupid, knowing how reality was always different. Everyone is and will always be selfish for their own greed. He was too, he wanted to fulfill his promise and that was it. 

That was his goal and nothing else really mattered to him.

It’s what he thought would remain the same till he accomplished it but a sudden diversion came in the form of well…you.

He didn’t even realize it but the annoyance he’d get when he heard your lame jokes turned into him looking away from your silly smile to try and hide his own forming grin.

How he’d always automatically be looking for you if they’d stop at an island, choosing to follow you and dismissing Nami’s suspicious glances by saying you’d likely do something stupid that might put everyone in danger if left alone.

It was funny what this could make anyone feel. He didn’t ever feel like this, he didn’t even want to admit he was close to feeling but how long could a person remain in denial?

He was in love with you. 

He couldn’t simply excuse his heart racing at your presence as simply annoyance, he couldn’t excuse finding pretty flowers and them reminding him of you as well….yeah you get the point. 

That revelation honestly made him spiral into a sort of existential crisis. 

So he decided it was best to do one thing.

Ignore it. Ignore everything and simply wait until it all fades away. 

But silly him, he didn’t know one thing about love and he assumed it was something that fades away, yet there it was, in his gaze as it softened and in his heart as it sunk slowly like an anchor. 

Clogging his throat as if he couldn’t simply breathe when you admitted to being in love with someone, someone who wasn’t him.

Ah love and its magical stuff, yet why does he feel like it's more of a curse right now? 

He opened his mouth, and closed it again, resembling a fish and it felt like he wanted to say everything yet nothing.

They probably don’t deserve you. 

The thought resonated in his head, but really who was he to say so because did someone like you even deserve him?

Turning to face him completely, ducking your hand under your head, you blinked at him slowly, a grin forming on your face as you saw the stranger’s hair.

“You…you remind me of him, your hair, it’s that ugly color.” You softly giggled to which Zoro was left in yet a contradiction of emotions, whether or not he should feel offended or light over the sound of your soft giggles. 

Wait. 

“Come closer, I’ll tell you a secret.” He blinked at you, trying not to show any emotions and wondering if you’d ever even talk to him like this sober.

Deciding to follow what you said, something he’d never do if you were sober, he leaned in, putting one arm as support to hold him due to the slightly uncomfortable position. 

“I- don’t laugh at me first of all, it’s ridiculous, Nami says I’m being too much of a coward not saying it upfront.” You looked at him to which he nodded, in your mind you presumed it was reassurance and agreeing to not find you ridiculous.

Somehow, despite you not knowing who was in front of you, your heart was picking up in pace and you felt a slight nervousness, actually, you almost felt like throwing up.

As if you were just about to actually…

“I think, actually no, I am definitely in love with Zoro.”

…confess to Zoro. 

Good thing, Zoro had quick reflexes because he felt his arm slip and if it weren’t for those quick reflexes, he’d have fallen face-first into the ground. He sat up straighter as if what he heard had physically burned him. 

“It sounds ridiculous, falling in love with someone like him but he’s actually a very loveable person, at least once he begins to get more…more comfortable around you. He talks less, shows emotions or any reactions even less, always carrying around a bitch face- Nami says so- but-but he also cares through his actions like-like that one time he found Luffy’s straw hat when he thought he lost- he spent hours helping him look for it and trying to keep Luffy from crying and then, then this other time he stayed up all night when I got hurt and wasn’t able to sleep. And-and there’s sooo many other times he’s done, the small things, he cares for that.”

“You know. I think that was when I knew I loved him.  When he didn’t need to stay up, yet he did to make sure I didn’t die or something.” You finished with a soft giggle as memories of that day flashed in front of your closed eyes. 

Suddenly he felt way warmer than the room was. 

“I know, I know you’ll…you’ll call me stupid for loving someone who’s already in fact rejected me, not-not to my face of course but indirectly I suppose.”

Wait, what?

Rejected you?

How could he do that when- when he didn’t-

“I hate this! I hate the way I feel, it- it’s making me feel pathetic.” Your words slurred as you whined, using your makeshift pillow to groan into.

“Who said love is magical? It’s pathetic! It makes you stupid enough to have stupid hopes that only make you fly high until suddenly the actual reality crashes you down hard.” You spoke somberly, your words slowly fading out as you gave into the alcohol-induced sleep.

“Love is…pathetic. But- but I love him. So much. I love…you.” The last word came out as a hush as you exhaled, shutting your eyes and letting go of the pillow as you finally got knocked out. 

It pained him to see you call yourself pathetic…all while being the reason you felt that way. 

Zoro was conflicted. The contradiction of emotions making him all do,

Nothing. 

He was frozen. He couldn't say a word, couldn't raise his hand to rub your back to perhaps comfort you. 

His mind was in more chaos, your words replaying like a loop. 

And finally, he came to a conclusion.

I need a drink. Fuck, maybe even three. 

Perhaps if you were awake, it’d be a different reaction. Perhaps if you weren’t drunk, you’d have not said it. 

The idea of you then getting over him, probably because you’d think he rejected you indirectly due to his words. This left a more bitter aftertaste in his mouth and mind than the beer he just downed.

He left your side, deciding he needed a breather to process what he’d just been told. He made sure you’d be in a comfortable position, placing your arms to your sides and even draped a sad excuse of a blanket, one that you brought yourself of an old woman when you had stopped at an island and one you loved, sad excuse because it was very thin but apparently you couldn’t sleep without it. 

He had turned back to you, one more time, about to say something but he just sighed and turned around, walking away to where he was now. 

Now, almost halfway through the crate of beers, he still couldn’t get rid of the confusion. 

Did- did you mean it?

It was conflicting because for one you said it under the influence, maybe you’d even meant someone else and just said his name by mistake. He hated that, so he chose to focus on you saying it solely for him. 

“Why-just why are you trying to die of alcohol poisoning? What is up with you idiots drinking like maniacs today?” A voice said in both disgust and concern as she walked up beside him, facing the sea, and then looking at him, the concern being evident as she saw the conflict of emotions on his face.

She knew he wasn’t one to speak up, it was rather his body language and eyes that spoke what he felt. 

He just sighed, taking a smaller sip of the drink, placing both arms on the side of the ship, and observing the waves.

Nami truly wondered what could have happened until she realized. 

“Did something happen with Y/N?” She cooly asked, observing his expression and surely enough a change of emotion was seen with the way he suddenly stiffened up.

“Nothing remarkable–”

“Oh cut the crap Zoro, you look like someone stole your fucking swords and threw them into the sea.” 

Now he turned towards her, a slight look of horror while he narrowed his eyes at her,

“That’s oddly specific.”

“Won’t deny anything. But, don’t change the topic.”

“They told’ you something?” She figured she should just straight up ask it, put it out in the blue, out of the bad.

Zoro contemplated whether he should spill it, feeling like maybe it would be invading your privacy but even if he didn’t want to admit it, he needed some sort of advice. 

“They- uh told me they lo- well see-” He shifted his attention back to the sea, finding it hard to say it to her face without giving away much. 

Technically you confessed but also you didn’t? You ranted about being in love with Zoro and how you wished you didn’t, you did that thinking you were spilling it to a stranger but it was the man himself so is that a confession? 

“So they finally did it?” He turned towards her raising his eyebrows in question, “They confessed?” 

Now he was surprised but how accurate she was, “ They are too coward- no offense- to do it while sober so ‘figured from the way you look like” She pointed towards his face with her finger “They either kissed you, which doesn’t seem evident from your face not being smothered with lipgloss, they confessed.” 

He gulped from his active imagination flashing a picture of you kissing him and how-

“But why are you so freaked out then? Shouldn’t you be happy your silly little crush is mutual?”

“It wasn’t a confession. More like a rant, they thought I was someone else and they basically spewed it all, and wait what do you mean mutual- I don’t uh-”

“Oh don't give that bullshit now. I know- in fact, even a blind person could see how in love you are with them.” 

Zoro didn’t know whether to get offended or embarrassed if it were really that obvious. He exhaled heavily, clearly not satisfied with the situation still. 

“What if they don’t even remember? What if they begin to ignore me because they think I don’t like them?” 

“Well you did say you weren’t looking for a partner or so on, did you forget that idiot?” Nami shook her head as she rolled her eyes at him.

“I-well- It wasn’t intentional! I panicked!”

“And now this is your consequence. Though there’s a simple solution to this crisis which isn’t a crisis actually, it’s pretty straightforward.”

Now he was curious, a way to solve this whole catastrophe? 

“Since you think they’ll forget by morning, how about you confront them then?”

“In the morning, you clear out your feelings before you dumbasses end up avoiding each other to purposefully brush this aside and I swear! I swear if it gets awkward because you both won’t look past your egos, I’ll force you into the damn cabin and lock you there to talk.”

Nam smiled sweetly, yet a threat underlined beneath her final words and Zoro thought of the only thing he should do now.

“Fine then.”

“I’ll talk. I’ll…confess to everything.”

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri.do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2023

feedback is always appreciated 💗

links : main navi ! | misc masterlist !

#[ pri works ] #one piece #roronoa zoro #zoro #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro roronoa #zoro x you #one piece fanfiction #one piece live action #one piece ff #zoro fanfiction #zoro ff #one piece zoro #x female reader #x male reader #x gn reader #zoro drabbles #zoro opla #roronoa zoro x reader #opla #opla fanfiction

[s-ublimewrites]

writing sonnets (melissa schemmenti x f!reader)

synopsis: your students tease you relentlessly and melissa can't help but to join in

words: ~1.4k

warnings: none i think? wholesome borderline crack

note: im not sure i ever actually gender the reader here? but f!reader to cover my own ass<3

Don’t get it twisted - you love the inquisitive nature of your students, you really do. It’s something every eighth grade English teacher longs for. But your fourth period class has a certain knack for getting you off topic with their curiosity. On this particular day - a Friday, so blissfully close to freedom - you have relinquished all control and let them fall down the rabbit hole of fanfiction, of all things. Leave it to middle schoolers. 

They had only been learning about first, second, and third person narration - so innocuous, you didn’t see how you could possibly be derailed. Maybe you’d make it through the lesson, and you could relish in the four minutes of silence you get between periods, and-

“Where is second person narration used?” Angel doesn’t bother raising his hand, and you don’t bother admonishing him.  

You think briefly. “Honestly, not many pieces of published works use it - not that I’ve seen, anyway. We don’t talk about it much. I’ve really only seen the second person used in one place.”

You intend to leave it at that, but of course, Angel pushes. 

“Where?” he asks. 

In the second you use to inhale before tackling the question, Kennedy takes the liberty of answering: “Fanfiction, duh. That self-insert stuff.”

You can’t help it - a laugh bubbles out, and this is the moment everything begins to spiral. 

“Yeah,” you collapse into your desk chair, “Kennedy’s right. Fanfiction.”

Kennedy takes the opportunity - it’s been presented to her on a silver platter, really. “You know about fanfiction, Y/L/N?” 

“Sweetheart, my generation invented fanfiction. And I’m a writer. This was my game before you were even born.”

Angel is on his feet, his hands slamming on his desk and his voice rising with excitement, “WHERE CAN WE READ YOUR FANFICTION?” 

“Oh, my God, no. You can’t. It’s not on the internet or anything, I’d just, like… send it to my friends, or whatever,” you insist, hands coming to cover your red face as you laugh. 

The class, buzzing with chatter and giggles, continues to harass you. “So, what, Ms Schemmenti reads your fanfiction?”

Your hands are still covering your face. “No, Ms Schemmenti most certainly does not!”

“That’s because the fanfiction is about Ms Schemmenti. Y’all see how Y/L/N be looking at her in the halls,” someone says, and several others voice their agreement. 

“She’s down bad for real.”

“What?!” your head snaps up, eyes searching for whoever made the comment. The bell rings before you can get your answer. “Get out of my room, you absolute little monsters. Have a good weekend, please read chapter th- oh, okay, you’re gone. Cool. Awesome.” 

You look at the camera. It zooms in on your red, deadpan face. You drop your forehead onto the desk. 

-

When you walk into the lounge at the end of the day, you slump into the chair beside Janine, who’s engaged in a conversation about a scrabble tournament (sober scrabble - boring) with Jacob and Gregory. Barbara listens, not contributing, surely stockpiling the information so she can tell Melissa later. Melissa, who is thankfully not in the room at the moment. You think you would burst into flames. 

Janine halts her conversation about triple word scores when you throw yourself down into the chair by her. 

“Rough day?” Janine asks tentatively. 

“Long. The kids were focused on literally anything other than The Outsiders.” 

Janine nods. “I get it. Fridays, y’know? It’s always hard to keep them on task.” 

“Well, Y/N,” Jacob starts with a smirk, “my students were actually pretty interested in the topics of your class today. It’s all they could talk about when they sat down for seventh period.” 

You glare at him hard and warn, “Jacob. Do not.” 

Janine looks back and forth between you both and turns to Gregory. “Is there something I’m missing?”

“No,” you say sternly. Your eyes don’t leave Jacob’s shit-eating grin. “Not a thing.”

Jacob, it seems, has exceptionally few survival instincts and carries on giddily, “Y/N’s students found out she writes fanfiction-“

And, oh, good, Barbara is listening now, too. “Fan-fiction?” 

“Why is everyone saying that word today? It’s all I’ve been hearing in the halls since, like, fourth period.” Melissa asks, striding into the break room and taking the seat next to you. 

“I’m going to have to transfer schools,” you say, closing your eyes. 

Melissa pays this no mind. “All the older kids keep looking at me, too. It’s weird.”

You glare daggers at Jacob, whose face must hurt from the width of his smile. 

“So weird!” Jacob says innocently. 

Melissa narrows her eyes. 

“Why are you being weird? And not normal Jacob weird,” she questions, turning to you. “Why is he being weird?”

You slam your boot into Jacob’s shin under the table. “He’s not. No one’s being weird.” 

Melissa’s eyes flick back and forth between the two of you suspiciously. “Okay, someone tell me right now - what the hell is a fanfiction, and what does it have to do with me? And, apparently, Y/N?”

“Melissa, I am so glad you’ve asked, allow me to explain-“ Jacob starts, leaning across the table toward Melissa. 

“Oh my God,” you cut him off. Time to swallow your pride. 

You explain the situation… sort of. You explain in a watered-down way that incriminates you less. 

“So, yeah, they found out, and because I said ‘friend’ they connected it to you, and they misconstrued the whole thing, and it’s literally not a big deal-“ you're rambling and she knows it. 

“Wait,” Gregory stops you, “so this is why I heard Angel say ‘Y/L/N be writing sonnets about that red hair’ during lunch?”

Janine raises her eyebrows. “‘Sonnet?’ Pretty good vocab word.”

“Thank you, Janine! And thank you for focusing on the important part of the matter at hand: my impeccable teaching skills.” 

“So,” Barbara chimes in, “do you or do you not write these little stories about Melissa?”

“Barbara!” You’re mortified. “No! I do not!”

At long last, Melissa speaks. You don’t need to look at her to know there’s a smirk on her lips. “She doesn’t need to. Clearly, the material writes itself.”

“Melissa,” you plead. 

Melissa laughs that laugh, the one that makes the corners of your mouth turn up despite your discomfort. 

“Maybe that could be your end-of-the-year writing project for the kids - make them write that fanfiction,” Melissa teases. 

“You’re just as bad as Angel!” You laugh incredulously and let your hand smack Melissa’s shoulder. The others don’t miss the way Melissa doesn’t break your fingers at the gesture. 

In fact, Melissa's eyes soften as she bumps your shoulder with her own. “No, no, I can see it - newbie woos the Philly Eleven. There’s potential there.” 

You roll your eyes. “Well, I am pretty charming.”

“I’m going home,” Barbara stands up with a polite (if somewhat exasperated) smile, “Very glad we got this out of the way. Have a good weekend, everyone. Y/N… call me later.”

Barbara pats Melissa’s shoulder with a pointed look toward you, and takes her leave rapidly. 

“Uh,” you stare after her. “Yep. Bye, Barb.” 

Melissa’s eyebrow quirks up. “What was that?”

“Dunno,” you reply. “I’m sure you’ll know everything approximately five minutes after I hang up with her, though, so don’t worry.” 

Janine butts in (ah, yeah, the nerds are still here), “You guys call Barbara? Can I have her cell number? I always want to ask her but-“

“No,” you and Melissa say in unison, and Janine sighs heavily. 

You heave out a sigh of your own. “I need to go home - moreover I need to be somewhere no one is asking me about my nonexistent fanfiction habits.”

You stand, and Melissa stands with you as you both gather your belongings. “Impossible. I have your phone number.”

You “accidentally” smack Melissa with your purse, and Melissa “mistakenly” shoves her chair into your leg in a way that makes your knee buckle, and the rest of the Abbot crew watch the scene in morbid fascination. Because the cold hard truth is that if anyone else had dared to do… well, any of this, Melissa would be shoving her earrings into her pocket and removing her heels. Fight or fight instinct, y’know? 

Instead, though, she just swears at you in Italian as you head for the door, grinning widely when you return the sentiment in plain english. 

Ava entering the lounge halts you in your tracks. 

“Y’all will never guess what Angel just emailed me,” Ava exclaims, holding up her phone. “Did you know he knows the word ‘sonnet’? Proud of him.”

“Forward me that?”

Another smack from you. “Melissa, stop!” 

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfiction #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter

[sturniolosugar]

INTERLINKED PT. 2

pairing y/n & chris sturniolo

Summary: Y/n and Chris have been best friends for awhile. They end up becoming sexually involved with eachother. They value eachother so much but are both scared of the consequences of their actions, which leads their friendship to be stuck in a rocky place.

Warnings: mentions of self harm (not descriptive, just a mention)

pt1 pt3 pt4 pt5

I guess in a way I’ve developed a toxic attachment to Chris. Because after all we are not actually together. So I feel like I have no right to feel jealousy when he talks to other girls. But we’ve had sex only a couple times. The last time we had sex was 2 weeks ago. I wonder if having sex with me and laying next to me skin to skin rubbing his hands over my body meant something to him or was just a casual Tuesday for him. I get into a spiral when I start thinking of this shit. We were best friends for so long and I have a feeling getting sexually involved with each-other wasn’t the best choice. As much as this possibly could ruin our friendship, I loved it. I loved the way it felt. The way he would touch me, looked at me, felt me, held me. I remember the first time we had sex. It was at his house when Nick and Matt were gone. We had talked for hours and hours. We were both sober not even 1 drop of drugs in our system. So as much as sometimes I wanted to blame the drugs for being the reason we got involved with each other like this I couldn’t. Because we were both completely sober when it happened.

It was right after he saw self harm marks on my right thigh. I didn’t even realize he saw them until I looked up at him and he was staring at me like he saw a ghost. I had on very short shorts (I didn’t realize how short they were and that my marks were visible when I sat down). He moved himself closer to me and put his hand on my thigh rubbing it up and down gently. I looked down where his eyes were focused already and realized he was running his fingers over the cuts. My heart dropped. He asked me why I did that to myself. I had to explain that I felt so much emotional pain at that time that I needed an escape. And that I would of rather of felt any type of physical pain than the mental & emotional pain I was feeling in that moment. He just held onto my hands tightly as we talked about it.

“Don’t ever do something like that again. Your so beautiful inside and out. Your body doesn’t deserve to feel pain especially when your mind already does. Come to me. Anytime. Anyday. Anywhere. Or I’ll come to you. Just tell me where. It doesn’t matter if you were all the way in Alaska I’ll be there. I love you y/n.” he said holding my hands tightly. “I love you too. Don’t think of me differently” I let out a shaky breath. “I love every part of you. All of you. All of your flaws. All of your weaknesses and strengths. Everything. I would never think differently of you. We’re human. Doing human shit. The last thing I would do is judge you. I have no room to judge you ma” he says pulling me into him giving me a tight hug.

He made me feel seen. Like I’m a human. Like I’m allowed to have good and bad times. He’s the only person that knows about the self harm. He never made me feel weak because of it. He made me feel loved. Like I deserved better and that he genuinely cared. After talking about it for awhile that night we continued on with our night. Everything seemed normal at first but I noticed his energy shift. He started being more touchy. More affectionate in a way. Me and Chris have never been afraid to show physical touch. It’s both of our love languages. But he was being extra touchy. So I matched his energy, not knowing what the outcome would be. I laid down at one point and he started poking my sides, that turned into a tickle fight. Seemed casual until he was laying on top of me. His head rested against my chest and I was running my hands through his fingers. I started getting tired so I shut my eyes. As soon as I shut my eyes I felt the warmth of his body move off of mine. I opened my eyes confused as to why he had just moved off of me.

“I’m just grabbing water” he says before getting off the bed and grabbing his water bottle, taking a drink of it. I smile at him. “You want some?” He asked. “Sure” I say grabbing the bottle of water and taking a few drinks. I hand the bottle back to him and he sets it on his desk before coming back to his bed and laying next to me. He positions body close to mine and puts his hand on my stomach and his leg over mine. He gently rubs up and down my stomach causing my shirt slowly ride up but still covering my chest. His hand rubs against my bare stomach as my shirt has been moved up a little from him rubbing up and down against it. “Y/n” Chris says quietly continuing to run his hand over my stomach. “Yeah?” I asked. “I love you. A lot. I want to make you feel good” he says quietly. “I love you too. I do feel good” I respond casually. “I wanna make you feel really good” he replied, still rubbing his hand up and down my bare stomach. “What do you mean?” I ask a little confused. “I wanna make your body feel good. I wanna make your body and soul feel loved. I wanna show you how deep I love you.” He says looking up into my eyes.

And before you knew it we had sex. It definitely didn’t feel like just sex because I’ve had sex. It felt deep. Passionate. It felt like we were making love. Complete opposite of lust. I felt our energies exchange and become one as a whole. He kissed every inch of my body. He took care of me after. Making sure I didn’t feel used. Making sure I was okay. I’ve had no strings attached sex before. But with Chris there was automatically strings attached. He told me he didn’t wanna lose me and that sex didn’t make him look at me differently. He said that he loved me already before sex and having sex wasn’t gonna change that. He told me he wanted to have me all to himself after that. He didn’t ask me to be his girlfriend but that’s what he was implying. I hesitated and told him I didn’t wanna ruin our friendship. I could see his face dim. Like he had just been stabbed in the chest. He brushed it off and said there was no rush but that it wouldn’t change the fact he still wanted me all to himself. I basically denied him right after having sex with him. Since then things between us have been a little rocky. It’s not that I didn’t wanna be in a relationship with him, I was just fucking scared. Terrified.

Since then me and him have had sex and every single time it gets better and better. We’ve only had sex 3 times since the first time and it drives me fucking crazy. It’s like I crave him. I crave every fucking thing about him. Even before sex I craved his energy and love. I always wanted to be with him 24/7 but my emotions intensified after sex. He fucks with my head by continuously talking to other girls. Seeing him at the party the other night with the girl on the couch made me wanna go fucking insane. And I know he must of felt the same way when he saw me talking to Marcus because he pulled me away. I just don’t understand what we are. I don’t know if he has any feeling’s attached, or if he was just manipulating me trying to get me to have sex with him. But I feel like if he was just trying to use my body he wouldn’t have waited almost a year and a half into our friendship. I have tried suppressing my feelings for him but I can’t anymore. It’s impossible. I only was trying to flirt with Marcus to see if Chris was gonna react. And he did. Im supposed to hangout with him tomorrow. It’s hard hanging out with him, especially around his brothers. He acts as if he’s never been inside of me or had his mouth on every part of my body. It’s hard ignoring my feelings for him. I feel like since I denied him right after sex he became colder. He’s still my best friend but I don’t even see the light in his eyes anymore. It’s like I hurt him. I never meant to. I just wanted to protect our friendship. Maybe I should of thought about that before agreeing to have sex with him.

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smutt #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #tiktok #sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #fandom #fanfic #spotify #triplets

[boxboxlewis]

prompt: drunk, bored alex bossily trying to convince sober george to make out with him. george knowing if this happens, he will reveal Everything (disastrous; the thing he wants most in the word; will ruin their friendship), so he tries to distract alex with napoleon's correspondence.

Alex was buzzed enough that the hotel room had started to swirl around him in a gentle anticlockwise spiral. He was starfished on his back on the queen-sized bed, feet hanging off the end, and the gravity holding him in place felt heavier than usual but also friendly, as if it wanted him to be happy and comfortable.

“George,” he said, except it came out too long, stretched and languid. Geoooooooorge. He cleared his throat and tried again. “George. Look, mate, this is important.”

“No it’s not.”

Alex ignored this. “I really think we should. Like, I think it’s a good idea. Ojbec—objectively.”

There was no reply, so Alex lifted his head up off the pillow. It took more effort than usual, due to the gravity thing, but he got a good view of George hunched over at the weirdly small hotel desk, staring at his tablet, not looking at Alex at all.

“Are you looking at porn?” 

“No, I’m not looking at—fuck’s sake, Alex! I’m reading my emails. Mostly, I’m ignoring you.”

This was hurtful. “Why?” Alex asked, hurt. He carefully lowered his head back down.

“Because you’re totally off your tits and you keep asking me to make out with you,” George said. “And I know you don’t actually want to and you’re only saying it because you’re depressed that you got P17, because you’re insanely competitive even when you’re driving a Roomba. So. I’m doing the decent thing and not responding.”

“The FW45 is not a Roomba!” Alex said, and then, after a pause for thought, “Roombas can sense walls.”

“Right, yeah, that’s the relevant point here,” George said. “C’mon Alex, why are you even going on about this? You’re straight.” 

George made the word “straight” sound vaguely insulting, which was, Alex thought, interesting. He was too drunk to work out why, but perhaps that could be a project for his sober, more brain-forward self. In the meantime, he tried to wrestle his thoughts into order so he could answer the question George had asked. Why was he going on about this? Well, George was very pretty, for one thing. Pretty face, pretty body. “You have eyelashes like a camel,” he said, and laughed at the despairing groan George let out. “What, you do! Also, I’m bored, and there’s no one else here.” That sounded wrong, and wasn’t really what Alex meant, but he didn’t know how to fix it. “I don’t mean—there’s loads of people at this Grand Prix, obviously. But like. In my hotel room, it’s only us.”

There was a brittle little silence from George, during which the room continued gently spinning. Eventually George said, “Thanks Alex, but somehow I’m going to have to turn down this incredibly flattering offer.”

“Hey, c’mon, wait—”

“Move over or I’ll sit on you.” George sounded impatient and grumpy, like maybe the emails he’d been reading had upset him. Alex did as he was told, and carefully rolled himself over to one side of the bed. He felt the mattress dip as George sat next to him. “Right,” George said. “As you’re clearly bored, and a menace, I’m going to entertain you. All right?”

“Entertain me… with your mouth?” Alex asked, hopeful.

George exhaled loudly. “Yeah, close, Alex. No, even better than that. I’m going to read to you from the correspondence of Napoleon Buonaparte.”

“Napoleon? The short git with the hat? ‘Able was I ere I saw Elba,’ that guy?” Alex got a bit tongue-twisted on the palindrome, but who wouldn’t.

“The very one, mate. I’ve been reading his writings for inspiration on the track.”

That was objectively insane, of course, but also somehow the most charming thing Alex had ever heard. He could feel fondness fountaining out of his chest so strongly he was surprised the billowing golden splashes of it weren’t actually visible. “Fucking hell,” he said. “George, I like you so much.”

“I—what?”

“That’s why we should make out,” Alex explained. “Because… because when two people like each very much, that’s what they should do.” He turned over so he could see the effect this line of argument was having on George.

George looked mildly concussed. “Alex, are you having me on?”

“No!” Alex felt indignant at the idea. “Georgie, I wouldn’t, about this. You know I wouldn’t.”

When George swallowed Alex could see the motion in the beautiful tanned line of his neck. “Right,” he said. “Well then. I’m not going to make out with you now, you’re absolutely munted, but. Ask me again in the morning, Alex.”

Alex nodded, and let his eyes drift shut. “Brilliant,” he said. “Will do.”

thank you to sarah for the best prompt game in the business, and to @onadarklingplain for reading this over and helping me figure out the ending!

#galex #my fic #gr63 #aa23 #why is george stone cold sober while alex is hammered? OBJECTION #beyond the scope of this ficlet! but lets say he's on abx or something #for my successionheads the napoleon thing is making me think about george/conor parallels lol

[befuddled-calico-whump]

putting one more Cinderglass drabble request in your askbox (i am so sorry for the spam but i’ve been thinking about them nonstop aghfsk). again, feel free to ignore this!

i‘d love to see Sarah help Lex work through a panic attack or a traumatic flashback! maybe either so that he doesn’t have to drown himself in alcohol about it or she’s helping and calming him down while he’s drunk

Wildefire Masterlist

cw: alcoholism, emeto, hallucinations, withdrawals

He'd been sober for thirty seven hours.

Not long at all, really, but it was something, and he was trying, and it was fine.

Well, it was fine for thirty seven hours.

Outright quitting was the only thing Lex dared to do. Trying to just cut back wouldn't work, because what was cutting back? He didn't keep track of how much he drank anymore, he just drank until he felt like it was enough. Even just trying to regulate himself to one a day seemed risky business. Would he be able to stop, once he started?

He didn't want to find out.

Lex didn't tell Sarah, didn't want her saying it was a bad idea or insisting on staying with him. It was a rough ride ahead, and he didn't want to somehow hurt her in the throes of his panic or sickness. He... He didn't want her to see him like that.

So he locked himself in his room, told her not to bother him this week, that he'd be busy. The safehouse was old and decrepit but huge, and his room had a small bathroom attached, something he was doubly grateful for now.

He stocked his room with water bottles. It was impossible not to think of Sarah whenever he looked at their plastic cases now, Sarah staying up until early daylight, because she was worried. That was good. He could use his guilt there as a reminder; a reason to hold out.

He sipped at them and stared at the wall, every light in the room on, the old radio Sarah had gotten for him positioned at the foot of his bed. She'd given him a battered CD case with it, packed full of a few dozen discs. A Guns n Roses album was currently in, playing just loud enough to pull his thoughts.

She's got a smile that it seems to me, reminds me of childhood memories

By now, Lex was pretty good at doing nothing, letting himself sink into the thankfulness that nothing was being done to him. Even a year after the Tower and weeks free of Uriah, the talent hadn't faded. Day one turned into night, and he didn't dare fall asleep. Just swapped one CD for another and let his mind cling to the lyrics.

Too late, my time has come

Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time

It was around hour twenty two that the headache started, and it only got worse from there. Not long after that, Lex was clinging to the toilet bowl, heaving up the half-dozen water bottles he'd drank throughout the day, his head swimming, the pit in his stomach insisting couldn't he just do this later? Would it hurt to have one drink, to get rid of this shitty feeling?

No. All or nothing.

He moved the radio to the bed, putting his ear to the speaker, trying to drown out everything else. The album came to an end, and he replaced it with another, as quick as he could without scratching the disc with his stupid metal fingers.

Suddenly someone is there at the turnstile

The girl with the kaleidoscope eyes

Fuck. He just needed to hold out, just for a few days, and this would be over. A little self control, and maybe he could call himself worthy of the people here. Not a loose end. Not an ex-enemy or a liability. Something better.

Lex wrapped the sheets around himself, held the pillow over his head to try and ease the pounding in his skull with the pressure. It didn't help. He almost fell asleep, but the nausea pulled at his stomach and his skin was crawling and too hot, and then he was throwing off the blankets; stripping down to his boxers in an effort to ease the heat.

Exhausted but unable to find sleep, he sat with his back against the cool wall and sipped water, trying to find the lyrics again and hold them.

I don't really want to stop the show

But I thought you might like to know

That the singer's gonna sing a song

And he wants you all to sing along

It didn't help, it wasn't enough. His own body was fighting him, roiling nausea and sickness insisting all he needed was one drink and it could all go away, it could all be okay (fray, gray, stay).

The radio hummed as the CD came to an end, a few seconds passing before the album began again.

What would you think if I sang out of tune?

Would you stand up and walk out on me?

At long last, his own exhaustion was catching up to him, and he dragged himself back onto the bed, the heavy feeling in his chest spreading to his eyes and mind, as the music faded to a buzz and sleep overcame him.

He woke in the Tower.

It was impossible, he knew it was, but the fear seized him all the same, the crushing weight of walls he couldn't escape, the knowledge that this time, there would be no one to free him; this time he was here for good.

And the floor was wrong and Lex knew there was never music, but he fucking knew where he was.

He sat up, wincing at the sharp pain that rang through his skull at the movement, forcing down rising nausea. No one here cared if he was sick, if he was hurt, they'd hurt him more anyway, they'd do what it took to keep him down, keep him in line. He wrapped his arms

(Arms? It's wrong, stop, you aren't---)

around himself, squeezing his torso with a pressure that wasn't comforting. He felt shaky, blurred, weak. Had they drugged him?

(just one drink and this all goes away)

He tried to reach for the techniques he'd used to get through the days, tried to remember the things he'd done to stay sane, to stay alive, but any useful memory fell through his hands like sand, leaving nothing but the shadows, the nightmares (snares, glares, spares).

He knew what happened here, in his cell (hell). He knew what was waiting to spring on him at any moment, what would surely come for him if he let his guard down (drown), if he fell asleep, if he---

"Morning, scum."

Lex froze as the door swung open. Morning? But it was so dark, but it was always dark, the light never hits you here, and when it does there are worse things waiting---

"I knew you'd come crawling back. This is where you belong, it's home."

He could hear the voice clear as day, but couldn't see its owner. It didn't sound like Wade. It almost sounded like...

"Alexei. Did you really think you could hide from me?"

Uriah Fox stood over the bed, a smug smile plastered on his face.

"No," Lex choked out. "Y-you can't--"

"You always knew it would end this way."

(Fray, pray, stray)

He climbed onto the bed, straddling Lex, easily pinning him despite being so much smaller, despite Lex being so much stronger, and he couldn't move, he couldn't breathe---

"Lex."

The pressure in his chest faded, and he gasped for air, squinting into the dim light, unable to make out anything. A hand fell onto his shoulder, giving it a light shake, and he flinched back.

"Sorry."

Sarah? He forced himself to breathe deeply, ease his eyes open. Her silhouette was blurry above him, and it was only then that he realized he was crying.

He brushed the tears away hastily with the back of his hand. "You... You should go," he managed to say.

She sighed. "I'm sorry if I scared you, I just... I heard you... screaming. Not loud or anything, but..." She tapped her earlobe. "Can't get much past these."

He swallowed, trying to push himself into a seated position, but his shoulders shook, his stomach twisting, and he fell back onto the pillow.

"Lex..." She bit her lip. "You could've told me. You know you don't have to do this alone."

He almost laughed out loud at that. What other way was there? It was his body, his choices, his mistakes. He'd drowned himself for too long, hoping it could save him, knowing it never would. He was reaping his rewards. No one else should have to deal with the mess that was him.

"I'm not your problem," he murmured, letting his eyes close again. What could she do, besides be there to fill the silence when music wasn't enough? Besides grounding him and telling him it wasn't real, he wasn't there?

"You're not a problem, Lex," she said, her voice serious. Tired. How late was it? Even trying to be fucking better, he was still screwing up her life.

"I just want you to take care of yourself, okay?" She kicked at an empty water bottle. "Is this the best way? I'm glad you're trying, I am, but don't you think it'll be easier on you if you come downstairs and hang out?"

He didn't want any of them to see him like this. "What good would that do?"

"Distract you, for one. For another, it'll be easier to remember meals. When's the last time you've eaten something?"

He sank further onto the bed, his gut twisting again at the thought of food. "I don't know."

"And have you been drinking anything besides water?"

"No, that's--that's the whole point, I'm not---"

"That's not what I meant. Electrolytes? A protein shake, maybe?"

"No," he answered after a moment.

She dropped her eyes, a grimace tugging at her mouth though she seemed to be trying to hold it back.

"Do you not think I can do this?"

"I think you're punishing yourself," Sarah said. "And I think you should stop."

Was he? His head spun almost too much to think about it. This wasn't self-inflicted punishment, it was cause and effect. It was something he had to get through if he ever wanted to move past the Tower.

"It'll be over soon," he muttered, and he hoped he was right.

She dipped her head, pressing her lips together tightly, and pushed off of the bed, moving to sit cross-legged on the floor.

"Sarah..."

"Look, I don't wanna push your boundaries, but I can't leave you like this. It's not safe."

"It'll get worse from here."

"Which is why I'm staying." She gave him a stern look. "If you want to be alone, I'll leave, but I'll be right outside your door."

Lex clenched his jaw. "I'll be fine."

"You're detoxing. You're already feverish. What if you start seizing up?"

"Then I've already dug my own grave."

"Lex." Her expression darkened. "You can't keep doing this."

"This is the only time--"

"Not this. Self-destructing. You..." She did grimace then, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You keep hurting yourself, and I can't keep watching."

He pressed his cheek further into the pillow, knees drawing to his chest. "Then why do you?" he said. "Why haven't you thrown me out yet?"

The words came out too angry. Accusatory. His own fault. Any filter he had was lessened by the pain in his head and the nausea and the fucking exhaustion. He didn't want her to throw him out, he... he needed her. Not in some bullshit emotional way, but as a reminder that there were still good things. Things worth fighting for, worth living for.

"I'd never throw you out," Sarah said, her expression turning to something that bordered playful. "I like you too much for that, you know. I just..." She exhaled through her nose, pushed soft dark hair over her shoulder. "I want you to try, okay? Can you agree to try to do what's best for yourself? To stop taking the harder path just because?"

Could he? Even if he wanted to? The harder path was what he was used to. Less traveled, less trapped. Suffering for a goal was a habit. Muscle memory.

Would the path to freedom be as clear if there was no pain to pave it?

Still, something in her voice pulled Lex to nod against the pillow. "I'll try."

Her smile shifted to something more genuine. "That's all I'm asking." She began to push herself up. "I'll, uh... I'll be in the hall then. You are eating breakfast in the morning, mister."

"You... You don't have to do that," he started.

"Do what? Bring you food? Or stand guard? I already said I'm not leaving you alone--"

"You don't have to stay in the hall." Lex swallowed (followed), and it took him a second to form the words. "You can stay here. If you... If you want to."

Her expression softened. "Yeah. I do."

She found a spare pillow and blanket in the room's closet and began to settle down on the floor beside him, picking out a new CD to start the music playing again.

While we're on the subject, could we change the subject now

"I'm here if you need me."

"I know." I need you.

It was a paradox. The easier path to recovery, to a clear head, to control being the more difficult one. Because it was untravelled. Because he almost felt he didn't deserve it, that he should bear the punishment for his own vices.

But even if the path was unchartered, he had a guide. For once, he didn't have to walk it alone.

oh, and we carried it all so well

•°•°•

Tag List:

@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday @kiichu @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @shywhumpauthor @distinctlywhumpthing , @bloodinkandashes , @fleur-alise , @whumpy-daydreams , @whumpwillow , @honeycollectswhump , @snakebites-and-ink

#you don't know how long i spent finding lyrics #im not even fully satisfied with the ones i went with because they aren't -perfect- but ive spent too long scrolling through playlists lolo #wildefire #cinderglass #tw alcohol #alcohol whump #emeto #hallucinations #withdrawals #angst #anon #so sorry this took forever #anyway this may be a little cheesy but lex needs some sappiness in his life #I STARTED WRITING THIS IN NOVEMBER HOLY SHIT FSJDBSKKD

[riches-and-rossi]

,What is a ‘dilf’? Y/N’

- Pairing; David Rossi x Fem!Reader

- Fic type: Romantic, Clean, Fluff, Funny

- Tags: accidental confessions, drunken confessions, sweet Rossi, Y/N is a mess, Hotch wins a bet, slight daddy issues, the team is traumatized.

- Warnings: None,

- Summary: the team goes out to celebrate after a particularly successful case, the girls have an interesting conversation and Y/N has to explain what a dilf is to Dave.

It all started when Hotch mentioned that he and Morgan planned to stop by a bar after work, it was everyone’s day off tomorrow and they couldn’t fly back from New Orleans till morning plus the case had gone shockingly well. Before anyone knew what happened Dave had offered to cover the bill for the whole team, JJ had called Will, and everyone was on their way to the hotels bar no questions asked.

At first things had been calm, everyone ordered a beer, will had recommended it apparently this was his go to back home and it was actually brewed in the bar, it was also eight percent alcohol.

Eventually the guys split off to play pool, Penelope stole a beer from Derek who was completely and utterly plastered and the girls started gossiping by the bar. “He’s cute.” Emily pointed out a guy, nice arms and a nice beard but he couldn’t be older then thirty five, that was still a decade older then you but he was no Pasta Man.

“He’s not really my type.”

“Yeah I agree with Y/N, he can’t compare to that Greek god of goodness.”

Penelope was peering at a stumbling Morgan across the bar earning a quiet ‘awe’ from JJ, he and Will seemed to be ups against each other in a game of nine ball at the moment.

“What is your type?, you’ve been on the team two years and I’ve never seen you date.” JJ took a sip of her beer, god bless her heart for being the only person still capable of standing this far into the night, and Emily and Penelope peaked up in curiosity.

You were to busy starring off at your senior agent, as he fumbled with his wallet trying to buy another round, thinking before you spoke was far to complicated for the moment being.

“Tall, older, handsome. Facial hair is a must and he has to be funny, and experienced, and confident.” Your tone was tooth rottingly sweet and Dave happened to look over, he winked at you playfully holding his beer as if to toast to you across the room and you giggled like a school girl much to your embarrassment.

“Oh my god, Y/N! He’s like fifty three!” JJ was shocked and Emily was cackling at you as you jumped with embarrassment, you weren’t sure if your face was red from the booze or from your life ending slip up on your feelings for the older agent.

“And? It’s not my fault that Rossi is a total Dilf.” Your tone was so self assured but unfortunately Emily and her evil cackle had brought the men back at the worst possible second. Despite the team being profilers, you managed to hide your embarrassing crush well enough, or at least you thought you had up until now.

“I’m a total what?” Speak of the devil, or in this case devilishly handsome Dilf and he shall appear. You wanted to curl up into a ball and die and yet the man looked so genuinely confused at which point he turned to the male half of the team who hadn’t heard and went, “what’s a Dilf?” Before glancing back at you,

“What, is a ‘Dilf’ Y/N?” He wanted answers and you wanted to leap off a tall ledge.

Hotch decided to bite his tongue, Reid looked absolutely perplexed, the girls were dying of laughter and Morgan spat out his drink back into his glass and started chocking. Will looked like he was questioning any life decision that lead him to meeting these people.

“Dilf is popular internet slang, to describe an older gentleman typically one with kids or one that acts like a father figure and is attractive. It’s said to mean ‘dad I’d like to fuck’ if I remember correctly!” It was official, when Reid was sober you were going to gut him, Rossi looked absolutely perplexed and the entirety of the team have a reflexive face palm at Reid’s words “what! Was I not helpful?” The doctor seemed clueless.

“You think I’m a Dilf? Really?” And suddenly Rossi was asking questions you didn’t want to answer and he was doing it in that sexy deep interrogator voice he used on unsubs, god why were you into that? And you were a stuttering mess of confusion.

“Well, uh- I… huh?” Welp, there went your last brain cell. To make matters worse again if that was even possible at this point, the Italian was starring so intensely you felt like you may explode.

“Before we do any Dilf’ing as it implies we should have dinner, I make excellent pasta.” Was he… oh, oh my god.

You nodded cheerfully at the offer, Dave’s Pasta and mind blowing Dilf sex, god bless the drunken delinquency of you and your colleagues.

#david rossi x reader #david rossi #David Rossi moodboard #David Rossi imagine #criminal minds

[firstkanaphans]

I really love your fics and how you write stories. Out of curiosity, do you have any predictions for each of the couples? We're only on ep3 but I really don't know how things will pan out😭 I'm very good with theories with most bls, but my head is really empty on this one

Thank you so much!! I’m glad you like my fics 💕 And kudos to you for usually being able to predict things because I am notoriously bad at it 😅 But since you asked, I will give it my best shot.

The problem is that there’s still so much we don’t know. Sand’s character in particular hasn’t been developed much yet (it seems like that’s coming in this week’s episode), so this is all just wild speculation on my part.

SandRay: Sand is clearly starting to realize that Ray is a very bad idea. He’s already too attached and he knows that Ray is not the type of person who is capable of returning those sentiments, so I think he’s going to spend the next episode desperately trying to resist Ray’s advances. Ray—the little gremlin that he is—is not going to like that at all. He’s going to take it as a challenge. He’s going to become so persistent, so annoying. His puppy dog eyes are going to be on full beam. And eventually Sand is going to give in to his charms. (Possibly in a dressing room by the looks of it.)

At that point, I think they’re going to enter into one of those “they didn't know they’re dating”-type of relationships where they are essentially dating in all but name. Sand will realize what is happening, but Ray won’t, and when Sand points out that friends with benefits usually don’t sleep over at each other’s houses or talk about music late into the night, Ray is going to freak out. He doesn’t want Sand to be in love with him because he doesn’t think he's worthy of that love. So he’s going to show Sand that he’s not. He’s going to lash out and push Sand away for Sand’s own good.

Then, without Sand in his life, he’s going to get self-destructive. He's going to drink and he's going to do something stupid—my best guesses would be either driving drunk or overdosing—and there, at rock bottom, is when he will finally realize he needs help. (Bonus points if he wakes up in the hospital with Sand asleep at his bedside.)

For these two, I think we’ll end the series with them together in a committed relationship and Ray sober.

TopMew: Despite literally no evidence to support this theory, Top has gotten it into his head that Mew is sleeping with Ray. And—kudos to him—he’s actually going to confront Mew about it next episode instead of letting it drag out until the end of the series. Mew seems rightfully pissed off by this line of questioning. His “I'll have sex with you. Okay?” seems very passive aggressive to me. It’s almost like he’s saying, “Since I’m clearly sleeping with Ray, why don’t I just sleep with you, too? Is that what you want?” He’s been trying to foster a real relationship with Top and Top clearly doesn’t trust him at all. 

That being said, P’Jojo has already spoiled that the next episode ends with a shower scene and since we know that TopMew have a shower scene, I’m assuming that they make up by the end of the episode and Mew finally agrees to date Top for real.

And then things are going to go off the rails.

As soon as these two have slept together, activating that obsessive part of Mew’s personality that Mew has already warned Top about, he is going to find out that Top slept with Boston. And he is going to spend the rest of the series making Top beg for his forgiveness.

I’ve talked a little bit about how Mew reminds me of Earth from Friendzone (another one of P’Jojo’s series) and I think he’s going to go down a similar path as Earth did. My best guess? He decides to get back at Top by doing the very thing he was accused of in the first place: Sleeping with Ray.

I honestly don’t have a great sense of what happens from there, but I'm expecting an ambiguous ending for TopMew. I doubt they will end up together, but I can see their last scene being a coffee date or something, insinuating that they are going to try again. 

And then we have…BostonNick: Y’all. Nick is insane insane. I am literally obsessed with him. But he is so insane that I have no freakin’ clue what he’s about to do. 

I talked a bit about what I expect for him and Boston here, but the short version is that I think Boston is going to end up wanting to pursue a real relationship with Nick (maybe he craves what Top and Mew have), but Nick is going to realize he deserves better and turn Boston down. I think the series ends with Boston alone and Nick with someone who will treat him better (Papang, perhaps?). 

But everything in the middle? No clue. I do expect that Nick will be the one who ends up divulging the TopBoston secret (I mean, obviously. He’s the only one who knows), but I can’t for the life of me figure out how we get from there to that happy scene of him and Boston on the pier that we saw in the trailer.

I’m just excited to watch him go full Fatal Attraction on Boston’s ass. It’s what he deserves.

#theories that will be disproven in ~2 days #only friends the series #sandray #bostonnick #topmew #still mad at top can you tell

[fandomwritingbit]

Can i request a William x Female smut?

William is a bartender- and its readers first time going to a bar, her friends instantly ditch her because they see cute guys and leave with them, leaving reader at the bar not even knowing what to even start off with-

William notices and helps her out, starting off small and watching as she gets drunker, eventually he takes her to his house and she tries to kiss him (which he allows) then she tries to initiate sex, but he tells her no cause shes drunk and she ends up sleeping next to him in his bed, in the morning she asks and he decides to fuck her hard

If this is to long or you just don't want to, you don't have to do it if you don't want to!

@lillianastuff

Hello! I’ve finally got this one ready. It's been sitting in my drafts looking pretty for too damn long. I followed your outline but there are a few bits I skewered, hope that’s alright. 

Thank you so much for this request and the others, smashed ‘em out the park you did!

Warnings: swearing. smut. alcohol and drunkness. 

Two hours before their shift the bartender called in sick. Cheeky fuck went against the 24hour notice policy and subsequently left the bosses in the lurch, desperately trying to find someone else willing to cover it. But it was a Saturday night, anyone who wasn’t already in was busy and Henry included. He’d told William that somebody needed to be there, all their money was in drinks after all, and that if no one would help: he’d have to do it him fucking self. And after a long day of pay cheques and fixing faulty lights in the lounge, that was the last thing he wanted to do, Hell it’d be the last thing he wanted on a good day.  

Nevertheless, what choice did he have? Lose all that cash? On such a busy night? Fuck that. He sighed as he settled behind the bar, moving things to his liking, knowing he’d be making the next night’s bartender’s job a lot harder, but wanting this to go as painlessly as possible.

“Will you get those fucking doors open? Its five past the hour.” He called to a worker, who fumbled with what she was cleaning, hurrying to do as he said as quickly as possible.

“Yes, sorry, Mr Afton.” He just nodded in response, pinching the bridge of his nose as he mentally prepared himself to be somewhat pleasant to the people he’d have to serve. It was going to be a long bloody night.

~

Work always kept you busy, so when your friends had asked if you wanted to go out to a bar this Saturday, you agreed - even though it wasn’t really your thing. You’d never gone to a bar before, not a proper ‘young people drinking, music blaring’ kind of bar anyway; so, you were nervous. But still excited to finally have the chance to do something fun after weeks of slaving away.

It was agreed you’d meet at half seven. In a popular pub in town. There were 4 of you in total, yourself, two friends from Uni and one of their sisters, and so you were hopeful for a good night.

Taking the chance to dress up nice, you slinked into a black dress and some boots with heels- not overly classy but clean, and relatively practical. At least your sober-arse thought so, not taking into account that drinking would knock over, and shatter, your sense of balance, and these shoes would be nothing but a hinderance.

Similarly dressed, you and your mates got taxis to the bar, chattering none-stop about your lives, making sure to fill each other in on any drama that had occurred since your last meeting. And it was fun, the most fun you’d had in ages and your constant giggling felt nice to be back.

~

Your lovely evening only lasted an hour. Only one drink in, your friends’ eyes quickly wondering to the singles in the building. And so, still finishing your ‘something and coke’ you’d been well and truly abandoned and looked bitterly between all 3 of the bold ladies who’d accosted and snagged a stranger in ten minutes flat.

Feeling embarrassed at being sat on a big table on your lonesome, you walk over to the bar, putting down your empty glass and taking a somewhat sticky, neglected stool. The tingle of embarrassment again buzzed at your sides when the server turned to you, not offering a greeting but raising his eyebrows, waiting for you to say something.

The expression of the tall bloke was not welcoming, and you stumble before even opening your mouth.

“Hi uh, can I get another one of... this?” You push your glass forward, giving him a closed-lipped and awkward smile.

Resting his elbows on the counter before you, his expression of annoyance didn’t shift. “What am I- Mystic Meg?” He asked sarcastically, presenting his palms to the ceiling. When your eyes only widened, not understanding what he meant, he sighed. “It’d help if you told me what it was.” His tone was curt and mean, you feel heat rise to your cheeks, wishing the ground would open and swallow you whole.  

“Oh, uh. Sorry, I don’t know...” You damn-near wanted to cry, the shame of looking stupid pricking the corners of your eyes. “They uh...” You pointed pointlessly behind you, “were supposed to help me out but they’ve shagged off.”

Seeing your reaction, he stood up straight, trying to be a little bit more patient- though it was a struggle. “Help you out?”

“Yeah... I’ve uh never really drunk before- not at a pub anyway.”

“Huh...” He said, brow quickly raised in surprise. He softened himself a bit as even in the low light he could see the sheen of your eyes, shitty mates you had if they pissed off almost immediately. “Then a spirit and mixer are probably a good way to go- I assume that's what this was.”  He picked up your discarded glass and you again feel embarrassed as his eyes landed at the lipstick on the rim. “I’ve made a lot of drinks tonight; I don’t remember what I made you.”  

“Yeah, I get it, you don’t really register faces.” You smile.

“Not at all.” He looked over your shoulder and you keep your gaze at his hands on the bar. They’re huge, fingers long and elegant like a pianist but you smile at the relatability of his nails bitten down, sympathising with the stress he must be under. He brought you from that thought by tilting his head to the left, “That your mate, over there? The ginger one?”

You look over, quickly seeing her on a fella’s lap. “Yeah...”

“That’s a vodka and coke- a cheap one and all.”

“She must be more memorable than me, then.” You smile in partial self-deprecation. It suited you, that smile, changed you completely from the sorry looking sad thing that sat down here a minute ago.

“Not her herself. The purple lipstick on her teeth is though.” He smirked and you catch a glimpse of a few missing teeth which for reasons you can’t explain, makes your stomach twist. He continued, lowering his head to your eyeline. “Vodka and coke is fucking boring... You drink wine?”

Biting your lip, your eyes get wide, like a nervous rabbit. “I have done...” You say, an awkward look taking over your face again.

“Right.” He sounded unconvinced by your words. “Here then...” Watching the man, he bends and quickly plucks a bottle from a shelf close to the floor, opening it and pouring you a glass while hardly looking. “Try this, if you don’t take to it, I’ll have it.” Placing it down before you, you look from it to him, smirking.

“You’re allowed to drink on the job?” The tone of your question had a ‘not a bad gig’ implication to it and he lets himself smile. Watching your fingers wrapping around the stem of the glass, your nail varnish chipped rather charmingly. As you saw him acknowledge it, you take you hand back from view a little ashamed about it.

He brings his gaze back to you and quells your shame, “I own the place.” He says through a smirk and peaked eyebrow. “Though if I caught someone else doing it, I’d make ‘em down the whole bottle, like my pa did when he seen me smoking for the first time.”

“Oh right.” You laugh. Of course, this man smokes, his hands were made to have a cigarette in them. God the smell probably clung to his skin, you’d likely be able to taste on his... Looking to the wine in front of you, you catch his eyes on you when you look back up, asking, “Someone skiving off?”

“You can tell? What, do you work somewhere like this?”

“I waitress.”

To your surprise he laughs, fully resting his arms on the counter, at equal eye level. “But you don’t know your drinks?”

“Don’t have to, to hand them a wine list.” You shrug. Finally trying the drink in front of you, making sure not to look at the bloke who was very blatantly watching you for a reaction. You don’t know how to feel about it, the taste bitter on your tongue though comfortingly warm down your throat.

“You like it?” He asks when you set it back down.

“Yeah, its uh... not what I expected.” You offer, pressing your lips together between your teeth.

The bartender tips his head back to laugh at you, “Don’t fucking lie.” He stops his sniggering to take the glass back, shaking his head. “We’ll find you something you do like- certainly more entertaining than fannying-on with this lot.” You struggle to take your eyes from him as he brings your glass to his lips: you can think of something you’d like already.

~

You’re not sure how long you sit at that bar, the man behind it being called away every so often to fulfil people’s orders. But he kept coming back to where you sat, each time with something different for you to try, seemingly determined to find ‘your match’ as he called it.

However, as the night progressed your inexperience and consequently, your low tolerance began to show and before long you were, as the people say: bloody pissed.

Too many drinks in, he comes to you again, looking at your state with immense amusement.

“You got a lift home?”

“Nah, I’ll ring a taxi later.” You smirk, enjoying this fella’s company too much to consider going yet.

“How much later?” He asks, well aware that you’d lost track of time and had no idea how late it was. Putting you out of your misery with, “We’re closing soon, sweetheart.”

“Oh shit, what time is it like?”

Looking to his watch he grins. “Nearly two.” You feel your eyes get wide in shock; having had no idea you’d been there for that long. You go to stand but the drink grips you in a choke hold and you stumble near-instantly.

“Hey, careful. Here I’ll help you.” He comes round the gap laughing at your unsteady form and you try to have the coordination to take your boots off whilst doing the impossible: standing.

“God, I wouldn’t have given you so much to drink if I knew you were that little.” He teased. Stood next to him of course you looked little, anyone fucking would. Fuck this man was tall, you’d not taken much notice of that.

“I’m not little, you’re fucking massive.” You say, snapping but quickly looking him up and down admiring his frame. Especially those hard arms that you had to cling to for balance.

Realising that you were beyond gone, he turns you to face him. “I can’t put you in a taxi in this state. You alright to sleep upstairs?”

“With you?” He smiled widely, shaking his head at you, whilst trying to manoeuvre you round tables towards the back of the bar- where the stairs to the flat above were.

Hanging off him, it suddenly occurs to you that you don’t even know this blokes name...  which would be helpful if you’re going to bed with him.

“Hey. What’s your name?” You ask out of the blue, making him laugh as you turned to look at him, a hand landing on his chest.

“William, sweetheart.”

“Oh right.” You keep your hand there, looking up at him. “I’m y/n.”

~

You wake up on a sofa, hazy memories of the man from last night taking you up some stairs- oh good lord were you at his?

The sound of a fella clearing his throat caught your attention. “She’s alive. I was wondering what to do with you.” You see William through a kitchen counter, quickly realising you were indeed in a flat, in an open living-room kitchen area. Sitting up, you feel a blanket slide from your torso and feel the cool air of the room settle on your bare skin. Your bare skin?!

Looking down and seeing only your bra, your sleepy eyes ping wide open. “Oh my God, where’s my dress?” You ask, not sure whether to laugh or burst into shameful tears.

The man’s lean frame walks over to you, placing a steaming mug of coffee down on a table beside you. “You took it off last night.” He pauses, smirking wickedly. “After you climbed on top of me, but before you crashed.” The image of it flickered in your brain. The sensation of pulling your dress off, then the feel of his hands on your hips, pulling you off of him. Seeing sheer devastation possess your face he couldn’t help but laugh. He sat next to you, causing you to tuck your bare legs up, huddling under the blanket.

“Did we uh... have sex?” You ask, not sure if you really wanted to know. The fear of having made a fool of yourself creeping up your form.

He looked to you, tilting his head and not bothering to hide the abundance of amusement he was getting from all this.

“No. I like knowing you can stay awake for that kind of thing.” Laughing again, you decide you hate yourself and cover your face with your hands.

“Oh god.” You say behind your fingers. “I’m so sorry- I was so gone...” You scoff a laugh, an element of disbelief swilling around your head.

“Don’t be. You told me you didn’t drink- I shouldn’t have plied you like I did.” He let his laughter die down. Looking from you to the floor, a shadow of regret briefly on his face.

“No- No you were great. Thanks for looking after me and giving me a good night.” Peering out from your hands, you’re surprised to see he’s looking at you, a thoughtful glare in his eyes.

“You had a good night then?”

“Yeah. Even though my mates left me, and I’ve never been this embarrassed in my life.” You manage to laugh through the last part, just now noticing your dress crumpled on the floor. Reaching down to grab it, he watched the cover doing a terrible job of hiding your skin and blatantly stared at you as you completed the goal. Your face hot under his look.

“For the record... Had you propositioned me any other time: I would have said yes. You just couldn’t tell arse from elbow last night.” He’s not sure what he was hoping to achieve by that, but when you let the garment drop into your lap and a shy grin spread on your face, the stirring of his cock made him realise exactly what he wanted.  

“Even hungover and matted from sleep?” You were half joking, but looking at the slight pinch between his brows, you wanted to cross your legs under that blanket.

He leaned forward, eyes flicking over what parts of you he could see. “Especially like that...” Pushing the blanket and much-neglected dress from your lap you stand. Letting yourself be seen, even though it burned your throat with fear of rejection. Just in your knickers and bra, feeling very much under his scrutiny.

Rubbing one of your arms, you pull the courage to look at him. “You sure you’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” Grabbing your arm, he guided you closer to him, smirking as he enjoyed the sight in front of him.  

“I’m not nice enough for that.” As he pulls you so you’re straddling him, he has the nerve to take fun at your expense again. “It's not your first time for this as well, is it?” A long finger draws up your stomach and you shudder, laughing.

“Hah-no.” You say flatly, by this point just wanting more of a touch from this man.

“Definitely not V-total?” His brow narrows mockingly. So you bite the bullet and push his arms to the back of the chair, moving your face very close to his, in the process your behind pressing torturously against him.

“Definitely.”

He manages a snicker before you kiss him, his posture changing immediately, becoming more tense against you. Cupping your jaw to hold you where he wanted you, the other hand grabbing at your hip, moving you forwards.

His hands were greedy from the outset, not that you minded in the slightest, rough skin on the warm softness of your breasts turning you on more by the second. The dull smell of alcohol intoxicating. Never had someone dominated you in a kiss like this, you let him take the lead, your hands clutching at whatever part of him they landed on.

It was fairly overwhelming for first thing in the morning, but the wetness of your knickers was distracting you from your brewing headache. You arch your back eagerly, when he moves to unhook your bra, making him chuckle at how quickly you pulled it from your shoulders, more than happy for him to take what he wants.  

“You’re in a rush, what, have you got a train to catch?” He snickers, making heat rise to your cheeks instantly. But you try and keep confident.

“No, I just know what I want.” You can’t help but giggle though, your facade ruined halfway in. But he seemingly didn’t mind, because your words stirred him enough, to make him push you backwards on the sofa, setting himself between your legs, where you hand a lovely view of what exactly your words had done.

He ran a finger over the fabric of your knickers, instantly aware of your arousal underneath. It made you shiver, and an odd sense of anticipation prickled all over you.  

“You can take them off if you want.” You tease, rising a leg and pressing it against his chest playfully, lightly shoving him to the left.  

“Oh, thank you, I’d forgotten.” He smirks grabbing hold of your ankle, watching you pinch your lip between your teeth. Quickly reaching down to find the other and pulling your lower body off the sofa enough to hook your panties and slide them down your legs. God the heat coming off you was damn-near tangible and glancing at your pussy slick with arousal made his cock twitch. It was no surprise to him that you looked pretty like that, but what was really fucking beautiful was how you watched him wide-eyed waiting for him to do something.

The sudden hand on your inner thigh made you gasp, and you encourage the progression by pressing your foot against his dick. Before you can even form the words to describe it, the long fingers of this man were teasing your entrance, shallowly pressing in and out, then devastatingly fully inside, a practised movement accompanied by circles being ran over your clit. You had enough sense about you to continue playing with his cock, making him increasingly more impatient.

It moved fast after that, his fingers playing you like a fucking violin were replaced by the head of his cock running between your folds, coated in your arousal. It was a sight to behold, and you find yourself raising your hips, hungry. He understood your movement, guiding you and lining himself up before beginning to press inside you. The grunt from him as he did so, might have been the hottest sound you’d ever heard.

The pace he set was fucking mental, the sound of skin hitting skin reverberating through the flat and the moans pulled from your lips accompanied by his near frustrated grunts could probably be heard by the cleaner downstairs.

That poor cleaner.

#fnaf william afton #william afton smut #fnaf smut #william afton x reader #william afton x you #fnaf 18+

[yonkimint]

The End is You and I [Taehyung x Reader]

36. Sleep On It ✎

PREVIOUS - MASTERLIST - NEXT

It can’t be more than a few seconds of silence but it feels like hours as both of them wrack their brains for a gentle way to begin this conversation. The urge to start screaming at each other is strong but they both know it won’t get them anywhere. Therapy training has taught y/n a million better methods but her stubborn lizard brain still wants to throw a tantrum.

How many years has she tried to be the bigger person? She deserves a moment to rage, right?

“So obviously you’re still angry with me,” Tae says, “Will it make you feel better to scream at me?”

“Yes,” y/n snaps, frowning at him, “but it won’t fix anything so it doesn’t matter.”

“You always bottle everything up, y/n. You should yell now or you’re just going to spend the rest of this time wishing you could be yelling at me,” he tells her, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. She can tell by the stubborn set of his brow that he’s not going to continue the conversation until she does this one thing.

Narrowing her eyes at him, she gestures to the open door, “Go close it so people don’t come running in to check on us then.”

Tae is on his feet in a flash, gliding across the room and pulling the studio door shut, and then he’s before her again, a stupid, self-satisfied grin on his lips. She wants to slap it off him but violence isn’t the answer so she merely presses her palm to his mouth and pushes until he sprawls on his back, spluttering.

“What was that for?”

“It was that or slap you! Stop smiling when I’m mad at you!” she grumbles.

“Sorry,” Tae mumbles, looking up at her through his eye lashes as if he can convey his apology through this thought-jumbling expression alone. y/n’s body goes a little haywire in response, her heart beating too loud and too fast in this suddenly confined space.

She lays back so she can stare at the ceiling instead of him and lets out the scream she’s been holding in her chest. At some point, Tae joins her, his scream lower, grating against hers like they’re playing discordant notes up against each other until he pitches up a note. Now they’re screaming in harmony and y/n starts laughing.

“You did that on purpose!” she accuses him.

He rolls up on his side, tickling her ribs and laughing to himself, “So what if I did?”

“You always do this,” y/n sighs, his teasing sobering her, “You can’t just smooth things over by distracting me from what’s really going on. You always have some excuse or some distraction and I always let you do it.”

Tae sucks in his bottom lip, chewing nervously at the thin, vulnerable skin there. “I know I do. It just scares me to talk about it.”

“Why?”

“Because what if I mess everything up? I’ve already messed up so much and if we talk about the real stuff, I could make it so much worse,” he says.

“Or you could fix it,” y/n suggests.

Tae takes a deep breath and then looks her dead in the eye, “How come you let me give my excuses then? You’re afraid to talk about it too.”

y/n’s mouth falls open and she wants to deny his words, to defend herself and prove that she’s always been more open than him, but he’s right and she knows it. She chooses her next words carefully, “I think we need to define what it is.”

Tae nods.

“You and I,” he says, gesturing between the two of them, “We’re afraid to talk about what we are to each other and a lot of people have been weighing in with their opinions recently on what that is but you and I don’t talk about that ourselves, do we?”

She swallows hard. After all this time, she didn’t expect him to get straight to the point, “So do you know then? How I feel about you?”

“I have a pretty good guess,” Tae says.

The answer brings both a hot lance of anger that he knew and never told her and the heavy weight of disappointment. He wouldn’t tell her if he knew and didn’t feel the same way. She had been right all along to keep it to herself.

“Oh.” It’s the only word that makes it from her brain to her lips and it’s filled with the pain of rejection.

“I still think you should actually tell me though.”

This is not what y/n is expecting at all and it throws her for a loop. Does he really have to make her confess to all the years she’s secretly been in love with him so that he can completely crush her? It’s the cruelest thing he could ever do to her and he’s already dangled a girlfriend in her face and destroyed her own relationship with a perfectly good man on top of it.

“What’s the point? You’ve already made your own feelings pretty clear,” she tells him but cringes when she sees the fire in his eyes, rejecting her accusation before she’s even finished delivering it.

“I know why you think that and I will spend the rest of my life apologizing to you for it but, y/n, I need you to tell me right now so that I can say it back. So I can prove that I mean it,” he says, his tone purposely even.

But y/n doesn’t say it. Instead, she lists all the reasons it can’t be true. “You physically can’t say the L word to me. You told me you’ve never been in love. You started dating Hana and basically forced me to be her friend. You told me I was basically your sister and you’ve treated me like shit for the past few months until you realized you were losing me and then suddenly you changed your tune.”

“So you admit that it’s love?” Tae asks.

y/n rolls her eyes, “Fine, Kim Taehyung, yes. I admit it. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since high school and I would rather die than lose you and if that means never telling you how I feel, then so be it. Are you happy?”

“Not really, no,” he answers. y/n is about to start screaming again when he continues, “Maybe if you had told me sooner, I would’ve sorted myself out sooner and we wouldn’t be in this mess right now.”

“So it’s my fault?” y/n is on the verge of screeching, “All of this is my fault because I didn’t confess something that was so obvious to everyone else but you apparently couldn’t grasp. Did I really have to spell it out for you?”

“No!” Tae cries, burying his face in his hands, “I’m already messing this up. I’m not blaming you! I just wish it hadn’t taken all of this for me to sort my shit out, okay?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, I love you too. Not as a sister. Not as a friend. As in I want to smash my face against your face and I want to hold you and I want to be the only one you look at with those dreamy eyes and I want to be your favorite person forever because you’re my favorite person and I thought that if I tried to love you like that then I would for sure mess it up because I’ve messed up everything else in my life,” Tae explains.

y/n doesn’t ask what exactly he thinks he’s messed up in his life because she knows that no matter how well he does, no matter that he made it into a prestigious university and into a competitive art program, no matter that he competes on a wildly successful dance team, no matter that he has a strong group of friends, loving parents or that he can have any girl he wants, his mind is always going to go back to what that stupid counselor said to him back in high school.

Instead of responding, she gets up on her knees and presses her palms to either side of his face, forcing him to look her deeply in her eyes. There’s a panic swirling behind his gaze. y/n resonates with it, knowing it’s the same panic she has felt every time she’s thought about confessing to him. For him to admit he feels the same way must have been gargantuan. She leans down and presses her lips to his forehead.

“We’ve become so toxic for each other, Taetae,” she whispers, pulling away, “I want to believe you but after everything that’s happened, I don’t see how we can be in a functioning relationship even if we do love each other.”

“I know,” he says, sitting up and bravely reaching out to cradle her face in the palm of his hand. This is more than she’s ever dared to hope for and it’s splitting her heart into thousands of pieces that she’s the one rejecting him in the end.

“I hate this.”

“It doesn’t matter how many good deeds I do now, does it?” he asks, swiping his thumb across her lower lash line to catch the tears y/n didn’t know she’d started to spill. Her lip quivers as she considers his question.

“You got a whole new girlfriend so that you wouldn’t have to address your feelings for me,” she says.

“You got a boyfriend so you could do the same thing…”

“Who you made so uncomfortable that both of them broke up with us!” y/n defends. Tae can’t stop his laugh. It’s such a ridiculous situation.

“Can you believe it took Hana calling me on my shit for me to come to terms with it all? That woman is a saint if ever there was one,” he says.

y/n nods, “Yeah, you’re a real idiot for losing her!”

His thumb trails down to trace the outline of her lips, “I’m an even bigger idiot for what I did to you, y/n. I was trying so hard not to hurt you, I didn’t even realize you were already hurting.”

“You broke my heart, honestly,” she tells him. His eyes widen.

“How do you not hate me?”

y/n laughs, “How do you know you’re in love?”

“When you don’t hate them for breaking your heart,” Tae answers. 

A loud crack of thunder interrupts their heart to heart and they spring apart. They’re no where close to resolving things but the storm is coming and they need to get home. Without words, they gather each other’s things and head for the door. Outside the sky is black and fat droplets are beginning to splatter across the pavement.

“My apartment is closer but I guarantee all the guys are going to be there,” y/n says, staring out across campus. Tae grimaces.

“I’m not ready for all their questions when we haven’t figured this out ourselves,” he admits.

y/n is totally in agreement on this. Thankfully, she’s always been quick to come up with a plan and she offers one to Tae that she’s sure they can both agree on. “Let’s just tell them we got a lot out in the open but we don’t have any answers and we’d like to sleep on it.”

“Sleep on it,” Tae echoes and then nods, “Deal.”

Together, they take a deep, steadying breath. Tae holds out his hand to her and she twines her fingers through his. It’s seamless, her hand in his, like they’re extensions of each other finally coming together. The ache in y/n’s chest grows heavier and she wonders if Tae feels it too. If he does, he doesn’t say it. Instead, he gives her hand a tight squeeze and pulls her into the storm.

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#bts #bts smau #bts au #bts social media #bts social media au #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts fake scenarios #bts fake texts #bts x reader #bts taehyung x reader #tae smau #taehyung smau #v smau #bts jin #bts yoongi #bts suga #bts j hope #bts hoseok #bts hobi #bts namjoon #bts rm #bts jimin #bts taehyung #bts v #bts jungkook

[toughknit]

really dysfunctional day but enough of this. i forgot i had a social event and didnt know if i should go, i ended up telling myself it would be a good idea to socialize. instinctively wanted to sit beside the person i like the most in the group, coincidentally my back was facing the bar (so i couldn’t stare at bottles for the entire thing). when i saw the alcohol menu on the table i felt a wave of shock. even to this day it’s still so hard not to order anything. i just had water. a few hours later i left the bar with the person beside me and we walked slowly to the metro, talked about vulnerability and our feelings about the rest of the group, our thoughts about feeling like not belonging anywhere because nobody seems to care. they thanked me for being vulnerable, told me that they felt the same way and that it was nice to hear me talk about those things. i don’t know. i feel like my ability to talk about deeper things easily makes me connect to the people who also seek this, i do feel like a light blinking for intellectual and emotional connection/s, i don’t have time for surface-level or just otherwise “comfortable” relationships (i mean i’ve never had any kind of comfortable relationship, but now im shifting in a different position, one of self-control and reciprocity). i’m starting to build the connections and relationships i really want now. comparing this to the rest of my life where everything was fast-paced and so fucking intense is impossible. and the person i talked to tonight is a few years older, like a majority of my friends at this point. i think they’re in their 30s. and as usual older people tell me how impressive and great it is that i have things figured out at my age… i never know what to reply to this! because i don’t view my life as stages according to my age, there’s that traumatizing part i barely remember, then substance abuse, and then healing. i’m always every person ive ever been at every single age because my body brings me back to those ungodly times so often. it is terribly hard being sober and today i feel completely exhausted and damned. i don’t know what to expect next. i don’t want praise for surviving on my own i just want a place to stay you know.

#diary

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Wildfell Weekly - Chapter 16, “The Warnings of Experience”

We’re finally up to Helen’s section of the narration!

One of the first things that stands out, and is done very well, is how much younger Helen sounds at the beginning of her diary than the Helen Graham whom we have met through Gilbert’s chapters. She’s 18, and you can tell even from the start that she myst have gone through a lot to go from the person she is at 18 to the person she is while living in Wildfell Wall - her older self is wiser, sadder, more jaded about the world, slower to trust people.

A second thing, that I only noticed on one of my more recent readings, is how much subtext there is beneath Helen’s aunt’s advice.

Example 1:

And this is no subject for jesting, Helen—I am sorry to see you treat the matter in that light way. Believe me, matrimony is a serious thing.” And she spoke it so seriously, that one might have fancied she had known it to her cost

Example 2:

“I have heard your uncle speak of young Mr. Huntingdon. I’ve heard him say, ‘He’s a fine lad, that young Huntingdon, but a bit wildish, I fancy.’ So I’d have you beware.”

“What does ‘a bit wildish’ mean?” I inquired.

“It means destitute of principle, and prone to every vice that is common to youth.”

“But I’ve heard uncle say he was a sad wild fellow himself, when he was young.”

She sternly shook her head.

Example 3: Mr. Wilmot, an older man who wants to marry Helen and who Helen says his wicked and her aunt allows “is no saint,” is a friend of her uncle’s.

Based on all this, I suspect that the marriage between Helen’s aunt and uncle is not a happy one for her aunt, and that her aunt regrets marrying him and wants to save Helen from a similar mistake. However, the very fact of that presents obstacles to her attempts to advise Helen, like in the second example, when Helen deflects her aunt’s criticism of Mr. Huntingdon by comparing him to her uncle. It would have been considered completely unacceptable, in the time in which this story is set, for Helen’s aunt to openly criticize her uncle to her, so her aunt can’t talk about it outright, and had to stick to speaking of principles rather than concrete examples.

Her aunt is very worried - so worried that, despite her own statement that Helen needn’t be in any hurry to marry, she pushes Helen towards an older and tedious suitor whom Helen detests. This backfires: it is what lets Huntingdon get a foothold, because he seems so much more pleasant company in comparison. And her aunt makes her position even more frustrating by equating Mr. Boarham’s lack of active vice with the possession of virtue (“Upright, honourable, sensible, sober, respectable!”). And that characterization may not be right even in a limited sense. I would say that a man who can’t tell when a woman is openly uninterested in him and even actively dislikes him - even when she is being blunt about it! - is not sensible, and there’s also Helen’s description of him as “narrow-minded and bigoted in the extreme”.

On a separate note, I was very struck by the fact that Helen virtually quotes the modern-day memetic phrase (“You don’t have all the facts!” - “I love him”)

Her counsels may be good, as far as they go—in the main points at least;—but there are some things she has overlooked in her calculations. I wonder if she was ever in love.

Which, I think, is sufficient commentary on that phrase in itself.

What else to discuss? Well, here’s our first look at Mr. Huntingdon.

A gentleman stood by, who had been watching our conference for some time, evidently much amused at my companion’s remorseless pertinacity and my manifest annoyance, and laughing to himself at the asperity and uncompromising spirit of my replies. At length, however, he withdrew, and went to the lady of the house, apparently for the purpose of asking an introduction to me, for, shortly after, they both came up, and she introduced him as Mr. Huntingdon, the son of a late friend of my uncle’s. He asked me to dance. I gladly consented, of course; and he was my companion during the remainder of my stay, which was not long, for my aunt, as usual, insisted upon an early departure.

I was sorry to go, for I had found my new acquaintance a very lively and entertaining companion. There was a certain graceful ease and freedom about all he said and did, that gave a sense of repose and expansion to the mind, after so much constraint and formality as I had been doomed to suffer. There might be, it is true, a little too much careless boldness in his manner and address, but I was in so good a humour, and so grateful for my late deliverance from Mr. Boarham, that it did not anger me.

“He was not officious at all, aunt: he never attempted to help me, till he saw Mr. Boarham coming to do so; and then he stepped laughingly forward and said, ‘Come, I’ll preserve you from that infliction.’ ”

I suspect that Mr. Huntingdon has chosen the target of his affections deliberately - he knows he will be more appealing in contrast to a suitor that she is rebuffing, and as a result he expects that he will be able to get away with more.

#wildfell weekly #the tenant of wildfell hall #helen graham

[infernalodie]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲'𝐬 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫 || 𝐑𝐮𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭

“𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯' 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘖𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘦'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘓𝘦𝘵'𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘨𝘰 𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘰“

Inspo: Billie Eilish - when the party’s over Billie Eilish - Everything I Wanted

Pairing: Rue Bennet x Bennett!Fem!reader

Summary: You’ve lost every person in your life and left to wallow in your own justification of them leaving. But it’s Rue’s job to talk you away from the edge.

(gif used is not mine)

Warnings: Angsty as fuck, talks of depression, self-harm, and drug addiction

Words 1237

DNI IF YOU’RE YOUNGER THAN 18 OR IF YOU’RE SENSITIVE TO THE WARNINGS ABOVE!!

Rue’s body trembled under the relentless droplets of the rain that poured down on her. Soaking her clothes and her hair that clung to her forehead and cheeks. Masking the tears that streamed down her cheeks with a quaking hand held over her chest. Sobs fell from her lips as all she could see, was you.

From the inside and out, her body was hallowed out. Once full of sobriety, happiness, and joy. Now those towers stood dilapidated in her heart, replaced with the bitter loneliness she felt. How could she have been so stupid? How didn’t she see the signs earlier?

But that was all gone now. And as she stopped short of the front door of her home, she had to swallow down the fact that she wanted. She wanted to run away as far as she could. Never come back here from the bitter truth that, in some way, she could’ve done something.

She could’ve saved you.

She pushed open the doors leading to the rooftop of the school. The cold gusts of wind hit her in full swing with her hissing at the bitter weather nipping at her cheeks. But her gaze quickly fell to you, having known you would be here, after your sudden disappearance at the party. It just heightened her senses seeing you throw your head back with a loud set of coughs. Grabbing the bottle of whiskey resting on the edge and taking a large gulp.

“Thought you would be here.” When Rue spoke, your body froze up, looking over your shoulder to find her still wearing your guys’ dad’s sweater. A signature article of clothing you knew she couldn’t go a day without putting on once. “Are you okay?”

You let out a laugh, sniffling harshly and wiped your nose with a sigh. “Well, Maddy got back together with Nate, so there’s that,” you started. “I failed my exam this week. I’ve run out of money and I have to talk to you. So, no. I’m not okay.”

Rue should’ve expected that last part. Before she ever got sober, out of every single person in her life, she treated her like shit. You reminded her too much of the good times before she ever became the person she was. And you held a power over her that she didn’t like. So, after getting sober, she expected you to act in such a way towards her. It was what she deserved.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Another humorous laugh fell from your lips as you turned to her. “Oh?” You mused. “So, we’re now on the talking basis now? Are we going to lean on one another’s shoulder like we used to?”

“Y/n, I know I haven’t-”

“You have been a heartless bitch, Rue!” You interjected silencing the girl. “Even after you got sober, you still continued to be this person I don’t recognize.”

“Then let me make it up to you.” Rue stepped forward. “Let me try to make amends after what I’ve done.”

“Do you really think that’s how things work?” You asked incredulously. “You can call me all the names under the sun and then act like you can make up for it? There is no price to the pain and torment you have caused me.”

“Then talk to me!” Rue exclaimed. “Tell me and let me try and help!”

“I’m drowning, Rue!” You screamed. Face scrunching up with tears rapidly falling from your eyes as you stepped back from her. “And I can’t stop asking myself why the hell everyone hates me so much? Why you hate me so much? I- I just wanted to know, but you continued to treat me like garbage! Make me feel like shit when all I’ve ever done was love you!”

Rue stood frozen to the ground, unable to find the right words to reassure you that it hadn’t been true. Because none of it had been. She was blinded by the inability to act without drugs. When she looked at you now, you weren’t the same girl she had taken out to go play in the woods near town. Or the same little girl she remembers helping put to sleep because of the extensive nightmares that could keep you up at night.

You’d changed and it hurt Rue to know that she was one of the reasons. You were once so innocent, so fragile, and delicate. She’d wanted to protect you from the entirety of the world and keep you close in her arms. But she was never able to protect you from herself.

A sob racked your body as you tried to breathe. Chest tightening with each cry that fell from your damp lips. “All I ever wanted to do was help!” You wept. “I just wanted to help! I just wanted to help and you made me feel like shit for it! What did I ever do to you?”

“Nothing, Y/n,” Rue quickly said. “You did nothing wrong. I was just angry and I couldn’t control myself. I never meant any of the things I said to you, mom, or Gia.”

As much as you wished that her reassurances could soothe the pain in your heart, it couldn’t. You’d become so exposed to the darker side of Rue, that you couldn’t imagine her being anything else. After the nights with a razor blade in your grasp, the cool chill that ran down your spine when it pierced your skin, numbing you to the pain, it had been because of her. She was the reason for all the scars on your body and your mind. There was no way she could ever cover that harsh piece of reality you weren’t even sure she knew about.

“You’re a liar, Rue,” you spat bitterly. “All you do is lie to get what you want. And I know, sooner or later, you’re going to just use me for your own selfish gain.” Your lips wobbled as you shook your head. “The one person I have loved more than the world was willing to destroy me to get what she wanted. I won’t stand for it.”

She didn’t understand at first, but when she saw you turn and walked towards the edge, she felt her heart sink. “No, Y/n!”

Your arms extended out by your sides with your body leaning forward. Rue’s fingers just grazed the back of your shirt before you fell out of her reach. But even before now, she thinks you were already a whole other world away from her.

“Y/n!”

“Rue, what’s wrong, baby?” Leslie asked, position on the couch shifting with her sitting up with Gia beside her. They looked the girl up and down, hearing the shallow and shaky breaths fall from her lips as she stared at them. “Where’s, Y/n? She said she would call after the party.”

Rue’s eyes hung heavy as her body swayed. She looked possessed in the moment as she replayed the scene in her head over and over again. And even when Leslie stood up and made her way over, cupping Rue’s face and making her look up, she didn’t have a response.

“Rue, where’s your sister?”

Finally, Rue looked up and that was when Leslie saw the pain. The utter excruciating pain of heartbreak in her daughter’s eyes. And as Rue’s quivering lips parted, Leslie felt her heart shatter.

“She’s dead.”

#rue bennett #rue bennet x reader #rue bennett euphoria #rue bennett angst #rue bennett x fem!reader #rue bennett x fem reader #zendaya #zendaya coleman #rue bennett imagine #rue bennett fanfiction #euphoria #euphoria hbo #euphoria imagine

[dc-said-bi-robin-rights]

“You're so good to me," Rose whispered in Cassie's ear, trailing her free hand down Cassie’s chest in a way that made her have to pour all of her willpower into not looking down and flying them straight into a building. Her other hand was a tight claw around the back of Cassie's neck, holding onto her in a way that was starting to be painful. "Have I ever told you that?"

Cassie Sandsmark had done a lot of difficult things in her life, but staying stoic when the drunk Rose Wilson in her arms started getting frisky seemed in that moment to be by far the hardest. “You haven’t, no.”

“I should have, then,” Rose whispered, her breath sticky and warm against Cassie’s neck. “Cuz you are. Good to me, that is.”

Her next words were a quiet murmur, meant only for her own ears, but Cassie heard them anyway. “Definitely better than anyone I’ve been with.”

If Rose had been any more sober, Cassie might have allowed herself to feel pleased about that admission, maybe even smug. But as things stood, it seemed… wrong, somehow, to internalize the vulnerable self-confessions of someone so drunk they could barely see straight… which is why she stayed silent, pushing the murmured reflection out of her mind as firmly as she could and slamming the door shut behind it, completely and utterly refusing to dwell on it in any way even as it threatened to slide its way back into her thoughts.

"No one has ever treated me the way you do,” Rose continued when Cassie didn't reply, the sensation of her hot breath against Cassie’s neck proving a shiver from the demigoddess. “No one… other than Eddie, maybe, and he and I never…” Rose’s lips parted with a sharp intake of breath, her chest shuddering. “You’re the first person I’ve been with to even want me to stay the night. That’s kind of sad, isn't it?" Her tone grew somber for a moment, before it changed again, and it was somewhere between husky and pleading when Rose pulled her weight up so that she was looking Cassie in the eyes from less than an inch away. "Don't go anywhere, okay? Not yet. I'm not… I’m not ready."

Cassie didn’t know how to reply to that, so she didn’t. The rest of the flight was spent in silence. Eventually, Cassie touched down on the floor of Rose’s balcony and walked inside, still carrying the silver-haired ex-mercenary in her arms.

Rose started squirming as soon as they were in sight of the bed. “No, I said… wait, don’t…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Cassie promised, if only to calm the bucking metahuman in her arms. “Okay? Relax.”

“…”

“Rose?”

“…”

Nothing.

Cassie looked down… and saw Rose’s one eye closed, face blank in her sleep.

She’d finally passed out.

Cassie let out a relieved breath and deposited Rose on the bed, pulling the sheets up to her chin a moment later. Her task done, she took a step towards the door… and paused misstep, sighing. She could totally leave right now—Rose would likely not even remember her request in the morning, and even if she did, she was unlikely to be upset about Cassie not heeding it—but… she had promised, hadn’t she?

Sighing again, Cassie walked back towards the bed, muttering to herself as she crawled onto it and laid down next to Rose. The one-eyed metahuman rolled in her sleep and shifted into her, so Cassie sighed once again and awkwardly wrapped her arms around her, tucking her… whatever they were in beneath her chin.

“I’m just doing this because you asked me to,” she said to the currently unconscious, very asleep Rose. “So don’t get any ideas.”

I care. I care so much about you that I pull my hair out everytime you do this.

“Mmmh,” replied the currently unconscious, very asleep Rose, being asleep and thus beyond understanding of anything Cassie was saying or the true feelings behind the words.

“I’m still mad at you,” Cassie insisted. “So mad that Bart is gonna have to talk me down from punching the snot out of you in the morning.”

“Mmmgh.”

“Ugh.” Cassie closed her eyes, shaking her head. “You don’t even hear a word I’m saying, do you?”

“Mmh.”

#rose wilson #ravager #dc #dc comics #rosecassie #cassie sandsmark #cassierose #teen titans #wonder girl

[hansomang]

LONG POST AHEAD

Okay, so I've said before that that was a great finale. Let me tell you why:

Let's go back to the start.

Finding Strength

"If I imagine that I'm sitting here working next to you, even awful tasks like these turn into something beautiful. Work becomes bearable. I'm playing a role of a woman who is loved. A woman who has everything she needs. Right now, I love someone, and that someone is supporting me."

This was Mi-jeong's monologue after being put through such an ordeal by her evil boss. Concurrently, it adds depth to her character because it gives us viewers a glimpse of how she carries on through every dreadful day she's been. She said it clearly; she needs someone who supports her. She found that person, Mr. Gu.

Mi-Jeong's Liberation

"There's this part in my liberation note. Yeom Mi-jeong's life is divided into two parts, before and after she met Mr. Gu... I must be crazy. I feel so lovable. There's nothing but love in my heart. So... I can't feel anything but love."

Mi-jeong finally says that she feels so lovable, contrary to what she said in one of the Liberation Club sessions. It's pretty much self-explanatory that Mr. Gu was a path to her so-called liberation.

But what I want to emphasize more is Mr. Gu. Especially in this part:

"There's this part in my liberation note. Yeom Mi-jeong's life is divided into two parts, before and after she met Mr. Gu." "Me too."

What did he mean by that? I have two interpretations, the first one being:

Gu Ja-gyeong's life is divided into two parts, before and after he met Mi-jeong.

Undoubtedly, Mi-jeong has saved Mr. Gu's life more times that I/we can remember (from the moment he ran away and escaped in that train to all the things that have happened so far). What fascinates me, though, is how the director(s) and writer(s) delivered it.

Worship me. Mi-jeong tells him to worship her 'cause she never once felt whole and that love isn't enough. Apparently, for Mi-jeong, this act of worshipping will turn them into different people by the time spring comes.

Why is it hard to stay sober? Mr. Gu tells Mi-jeong that his past comes to haunt him... endlessly. Back in Sanpo, he also said that all he does is curse when he is sober and that he feels more human when he's drunk. Thus, being addicted to alcohol.

Welcome them like that. Mi-jeong and Mr. Gu had this conversation once, and Mr. Gu said that he drank so much just because he felt good. Mi-jeong then tells him to just laugh and welcome the people from his past.

"Why did you drink so much?" "Because I felt good. Sometimes, very occasionally, it’s quiet in my head even when I’m sober. As if everything’s stopped, I guess? Then I pour in the hard liquor again. When I feel comfortable and happy, I drink to break it because I hate feeling that way. When I feel my life is going okay, I drink. I beat myself up in advance..." "When those people come to you again in the morning, laugh like you did now. Welcome them like that."

THE ENDING SCENE

A quiet morning and he gives Hyeon-jin a ring, warning him that he is someone from his past and someone that he'll welcome back - just as Mi-jeong told him to.

"You're one of the people who make me curse from the moment I wake up... I'll welcome you back." ~ Mr. Gu to Hyeon-jin

He then goes out and he sees the kid in the elevator which he defined as 'seven seconds' of peace.

“Five minutes a day. If you have five minutes of peace, it’s bearable.” ~ Mi-jeong to Mr. Gu

He goes to a convenience store, buys a bottle of alcohol to drink. And for what? Because it's quiet in his head, because he just welcomed someone he's cursing from the past, because he felt seven seconds of comfort, or just that he feels that life is going okay and he wants to beat up himself in advance?

Mr. Gu pulls out the alcohol, the one he just bought, from his pocket. A 500-won coin falls off with it and rolls off to a drain hole. Instead of falling off into the hole, the coin was saved by a bar the drain hole cover. This immediately reminded me of what Mi-jeong said when Mr. Gu finally called her for the first time in a while.

“This man… He’d never let me hit rock bottom. He’s stopping me.” ~ Mi-jeong to Mr. Gu

Probably why he said "Me too." Which then leads to my second interpretation of the ending that:

Gu Ja-gyeong's life is divided into two parts, before and after he met "Mr. Gu" himself.

Remember how Chang-hee asked Mr. Gu why was he always looking at the mountains? Mr. Gu responded that if 7.7 billion coins were piled up, they would reach the peak of that mountain. Chang-hee interprets this as being found like a coin in a mountain of population. Simply put, a person is just a mere coin.

In this case, Mr. Gu being the coin, nearly hit rock bottom (or maybe he did) but was just lucky enough to be saved by Mi-jeong. Now, all that's left is to pick himself up, which he did, literally (shown through that coin symbolism) and figuratively (by taking heed of Mi-jeong's advices from waaaay back when she asked him to 'worship her'). Just as Mi-Jeong said in their most recent Liberation Club meeting:

I think that’s what this is all about. Finding out what my issue is.

"Me too." Gu Ja-gyeong is on his way to liberation, too. Trudging on, step by step.

Thank you Park Hae Young for such a great writing.

#my liberation notes #drama: mln #mln.text #just me

[tortue-blanche]

Фрагменты из переведенного интервью Мартина Гора для немецкого журнала Alert Magazine (апрель, 2003).

Наверняка, это интервью Мартина из далекого 2003 года довольно известное. Но на самом деле оно не теряет своей актуальности и значимости! Тем более там есть любопытные высказывания и детали для понимания самого маэстро и творчества Depeche Mode. В том числе в некоторых своих ответах он говорил о Дейве. Причем в ту пору их отношения, мягко говоря, были крайне напряженными. Дейв хамил в интервью и любым способом пытался привлекать его внимание (на мой взгляд). Мартин его просто игнорировал, не брал трубки, не общался какое-то время. Однако, кстати, концерт его посетил. Но обратите внимание, как говорит Мартин о Дейве в том апрельском интервью 2003 г. в рамках своего Counterfeit².

In the film The Last Waltz, Robbie Robertson famously states, “You can’t live the life on the road forever—sooner or later it will destroy you.” Depeche Mode sell out stadiums wherever they go, year after year after year. Do you sometimes think about quitting the life on the road?

M.G.: First of all, Dave is clean and sober now. He lives in a completely different world than he used to. I really sometimes can’t believe how he managed this change in his life. I pay the biggest respect to his self-discipline. Dave is just an incredible man. He can walk out of the dark realm of the dressing room onto the stage facing 20,000 people—and he gets this adrenaline kick. Believe me, even if many things on a tour are a daily grind, you cannot help but get highly emotional when you are standing in front of huge audiences like that. Always. And after the concert, Dave straightaway heads for the limousine that is waiting for him backstage and immediately drives to the hotel. That’s the end of any evening for him. Maybe, in his hotel room, he still reads a bit in a book or he goes to sleep. I envy him for that discipline. I couldn’t do it like that. I always say: Every world tour with Depeche Mode takes five to ten years from me. It’s not a healthy life. But that’s the way it is.~

Или другие фрагменты из этого интервью:

Aren’t you annoyed by the fact that every kind of solitude and melancholy has already been articulated?

M.G.: I can assure you that I simply don’t care what other people have or have not done prior to me. I only care about the things that I’ve already done as I don’t want to repeat myself. Then again, Dave [Gahan] once said this brilliant sentence: “Martin has built a two-decade-long career on one single theme.”

And? Is it true?

M.G.: Maybe? Most of the songs I write for Depeche deal with various aggregate statuses of relationships. These are good songs because they always have a twist—an unexpected ending or shift. That marks the difference compared to other pop songs. But I admit it can get difficult when people start to expect a certain kind of song from you. So, I guess that’s what you call craftsmanship when it comes to songwriting: How can you write something that is truly you without becoming formulaic? That’s probably one of the main reasons we always pause for so long between Depeche Mode album releases.

The way you tell the story is very entertaining. But Dave Gahan almost became a deadly victim of this lifestyle. He overdosed in 1996 in Los Angeles. How did this moment change your life and the way you look at your past with Depeche Mode?

M.G.: For all of us this has been a very tough time. Especially as we didn’t know how to communicate with Dave anymore. I mean, Dave is a difficult personality, no matter how you look at it. And we all knew that he had serious drug problems. But you can’t really help a person if he doesn’t want to be helped. When it happened I started to also look at my own life with different eyes. I can only say that I was lucky that I was never drawn into such a mess. In that sense I’ve never been in a situation that constrained me to radically change any of my habits.

#depeche mode #martin gore #dave gahan #davemart #interview #2003 #Counterfeit² #quotes

[night-heron-writes]

Buddy Daddies Episode 10

~*~WARNING: CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR BUDDY DADDIES EPISODE 10~*~

Okay so first things first. Ouch. Damn was Episode 10 angsty. Also Misaki looks unsettlingly like me? I don’t quite know how to feel about that 😂

Poor Miss Anna is not musically talented in the slightest, and all the kids are roasting her for it. Miri’s singing voice is really nice for a toddler, which makes sense since Misaki apparently taught her to sing, and Misaki is a really good singer.

So, Misaki’s back. We all knew that from the PV. She’s got a new haircut, new clothes, and seems to have gone sober. Good for her. However, the daycare is an interesting spot for her to show up at. How would she know where Miri goes to daycare?

The timing of her return is also suspicious to me. Just in the last couple episodes we learned that the organization is after Miri and Kazuki. I suspect Kyutaro is behind her reappearance, since this is the least violent way to resolve things. Not much of a resolution, but hey, we still have three episodes left.

Rei being the one to pull Kazuki back from a fight is interesting. He usually doesn’t get involved in whatever Kazuki decides to do, and he used to not care about making a scene in front of the daycare moms. Character growth!

Somebody else here on tumblr identified a piece of music as “Kazuki’s Theme” (I can’t remember your name, sorry! If you’re the person/know the person who did, please tell me in the tags so I can credit properly!). “Kazuki’s Theme” starts playing once they’re back in Rei’s apartment and Miri is playing with Misaki. It’s a very melancholy theme, the same one that played during Kazuki’s conversation in episode 7 with Karin. It often pops up when he believes he doesn’t deserve happiness.

Misaki dodging singing for Miri is interesting, especially given that we know she used to sing for/around Miri all the time. Rei also seems somewhat suspicious.

Oh so Misaki has cancer? Not what I expected. But if she has throat cancer, why is she still smoking cigarettes? Old habits and addictions are hard to break, but this is almost downright self-destructive. I’m also noticing the connection between Rei quitting smoking for Miri’s health, and Misaki being unable to do so even though continuing to smoke puts her life at risk.

Misaki having cancer also adds an interesting, rather macabre dimension to her theme being an instrumental version of “Don’t Say Goodbye”. She’s dying, at least potentially, and is trying desperately to cling to life, to not have to say goodbye. If you listen closely to her dialogue, you’ll also notice that her voice sounds strained, which adds an excellent dimension of realism.

How does she know that Rei and Kazuki are involved in “dangerous business”? I’m suspecting Kyutaro even more now, since Kazuki gave nothing away about his profession in Episode 3.

So it was Kyutaro who called in Misaki! I knew it! It’s also really the only choice he could make where nobody dies. His language in this episode is really harsh compared to previous episodes, and I’m willing to bet it’s because he’s feeling more than a little guilty.

Their final family outing is so sweet and so painful at the same time. Rei and Kazuki are trying to give Miri one last good experience with them before they have to say goodbye. The most painful part, at least to me, was that right when Miri says she wishes Misaki could’ve eaten with them, the theme I’ve nicknamed “Miri’s Family” starts playing—but it’s the piano rendition used when things are serious or sad. The music this episode straight up broke my heart worse than the episode itself.

The Ferris Wheel ride is eerily silent for a while. There’s not any background music, which is often more telling than whatever music might play. Other fans have compared the Ferris Wheel ride to the family’s journey together, and it’s certainly a good comparison to make.

Interestingly enough, Kazuki brings up the cat from Episode 1. Not a single mention of that cat has been made up until now.

The ride is silent until Kazuki says “Sometimes it’s kinder not to get involved”, when “Kazuki’s Theme” starts playing. He’s basically given up on ever having a permanent family, or ever being happy.

Rei talks a lot in this episode, especially in this conversation. He’s more open and emotional than we’ve seen him before, and he reacts a lot to Kazuki just giving up. His line about Miri having shown him things he never would have seen otherwise hurts so bad 😭.

Kazuki tells Miri she’s having a sleepover with Misaki. I can’t help but wonder how Misaki is going to explain that Miri will be living with her now, that she won’t be seeing her Papas again. I can’t imagine that being a fun conversation.

Kazuki wrapping his scarf around Miri paralleling the cat in Episode 1 made me bawl my eyes out. And so did Kazuki’s line “Guess we weren’t able to change.” But he has changed, they both have, and we still have three (?) episodes left. It’s not over yet and this series had better have a happy ending. If it doesn’t I will learn to draw and animate a second season myself.

#buddy daddies #buddy daddies spoilers #episode 10 #the angst was *strong* this episode #lea over analyzes fictional stuff again #long post