III. Finally Home

“What’d you do?” I joked as I settled into the chair Nolan so graciously pulled out for me.
“Can’t I be romantic without you assuming that it’s a precursor to bad news?” He snickered, taking his seat in front of me and flashing me a breathtaking smile that sent yet another set of wings fluttering against the walls of my stomach.
“I’ll let ya know when I find an instance.” I shot back, picking up my wine glass and taking a tentative sip. Of course, it was delicious—something else to add to this immaculate set up.
The briny sea air mixed with the robust aroma of tomato sauce and the gentle scent of freesia and honeysuckle, a strangely pleasant medley. I couldn’t help but marvel at my surroundings. The amount of intricacy and detail in every bit of the décor was absolutely astounding. Part of me struggled to believe that Nolan had truly done this himself, but the other part knew that he was never one to back down from a challenge—no matter how painstaking. Especially when it came to me. 
“This is amazing, Nol. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful.” I cooed, my mouth still hanging wide open in wonder. 
“I have to disagree.” He murmured as my eyes fell upon him once more, my cheeks heating under his tender gaze. How did he still manage to make me feel like a lovestruck teenager after all of this time? 

We ate in comfortable silence, periodically stealing glances and grinning stupidly at each other. I ran my foot up the outside of his calf all through our meal, just to maintain some type of contact with him, though after this surprise, all I really wanted was to be in his lap.
Across from me, Nolan began fidgeting like crazy—tapping his fingers on the tabletop, shaking his foot, shifting his weight. I didn’t think anything of it at first, until his restless energy became physically palpable and my own chest began to feel tight, bracing for some unknown impact.
I tried to make light conversation to ease the tension, but his ocean eyes still seemed tight with anxiety that I couldn’t understand. Still, he participated, although his responses were almost mechanical. He was still distracted, his thoughts anywhere but here.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.
I leaned forward onto the table and rested my chin on my hand. “Baby, what’s the matter?” God, please don’t let me have been right earlier.
“Nothing,” He said with a reassuring smile, the most genuine expression I’d seen cross his features since we’d started eating, but I still wasn’t convinced.
One of my eyebrows rose of its own accord as I stared at him. I’d seen Nolan anxious before, but this was a whole new level. Whatever he was hiding—it must’ve been paramount—which only sent my heart thrumming even harder inside my ribcage.
Suddenly, he pushed away from the table and stood. I gaped at him as he gazed down at me, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Maybe this was it—my lovely night going down in flames.
But to my surprise, he held out a hand before me. “Dance with me?”
I swallowed uncomfortably before hesitantly placing my hand in his. He beamed brightly at my acceptance, and quickly pulled me over to where the vintage record player was playing a soft ballad.
He visibly relaxed as I stepped into his embrace. His smile only seemed to grow wider with each passing second and he chuckled to himself, his anxiety seemingly turning into excitement.
I couldn’t help but peer up at him curiously as we began to move.
Nolan Ryan Winslow, what the hell are you up to?

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“why do you love lance so much?” why do you NOT?! look at him! this boy can light up any room he enters


A Pearl never forgets.

  • Book: hey there is this kid that Clay used to tutor that died in a car crash, you don't have to include him as a character he wasn't that relevant to the rest Hannah's tapes
  • Netflix: yea but what if we give him a backstory and make everyone fall in love with him
  • Book: yea but he was mostly there for Jenny's tape
  • Netflix: no he will be an adorable pure cinnamon roll and we will have every bitch crying over his death
Don’t say you love me if I’m only gray to you. It’s either black or white, yes or no, up or down. There’s no ‘well maybe she’ll work’. I am a gift to you and if you do not cherish me like the queen I am, then leave and stop wasting my time. If you want to be with me, you have to work for it. I am not a prize to be won but I am the judge seeing if you are suitable and willing to deal with me. Deal with my random rambles and my soft kisses and my ugly laugh and my cute chubby tummy and my hot screams. Do not say you want me because I’m better than nothing. If anything, you need me more than I need you.
—  this isn’t my best but oh well

Random PJO Ice Skating AU just because 

have a bonus Annabae

P r o m i s e s

Annie… Even if the whole world will curse and resent you… Remember that your father will always be on your side.

She’s the wanderlust girl,
always running from
one place to another,
partly because she loves
seeing the world,
but mostly because
no one has ever given her
a reason to stay.
—  Excerpt from a book I’ll never write, 55
It hurts that I still don’t have that person who loves me and all of me. I don’t entirely mean romantically, I mean platonically as well. No one is willing to wake up at midnight to answer my silly questions because they know how much of a smile it puts on my face and warmth it spreads throughout my heart. No one is willing to ask why I always fall asleep in class but yet they always gawk and stare. No one is willing to be there for me when I cry and cry yet they always cock their heads and whisper to their friends asking them what’s wrong with me. No one is there when I need them most. No one is willing to put up with the true me. The me that’s too curious and always worries and cries like a baby and that rambles about stupid stuff like how long on average does it take sunflowers to grow. I always have to change myself somehow to fit into their mold but not my own. No one ever wonders about me or asks how I’m doing. No one questions why I get nervous sometimes in the middle of class or why I walk funny. They never ask why I always cry during the beginning of April. It’s like they all assume. They make up their own story that makes sense to them but god forbid they listened to the truth. People constantly assume they know your body and your soul and your desires but the second you tell them that they’re wrong, they get defensive as if they know better. People always try to convince me I’m something I’m not like that I’m not sick or I’m not sad or I’m not imperfect. But I am sick, and I am allowed to be sad, and I am most definitely imperfect. But they don’t take the time to realize all of that. They don’t bother getting to know me or making sure I’m okay. Making sure I eat enough or making sure that I am not feeling sick. Making sure that I feel validated and worthful and loved. I do that to everyone but not a single person does that to me. I hate it.
—  maybe if you asked, i would tell you