ask me whether or not i regret the last twelve hours of my life

Conversation prompt #4

Requested by @m-alycin  “You forgot me…”    “It was an accident”

Post IWTB drabble

I was halfway home when I realised.  Realised why I had been plagued with a niggling feeling ever since exiting the grocery store that there was something I had forgotten.  Mentally I had re-run the list of things I needed to pick up from town, checking and double checking before I finally just shrugged it off as being the product of a week of twelve hour nights at the hospital where I was the primary physician on call.  Twelve hour shifts that had, more often than not, morphed into fourteen before I was able to drag myself home and collapse into bed after forcing down the breakfast Mulder insisted I eat to at least replenish some of the energy I was expending on a nightly basis.

He would then wake me up a couple of hours before I needed to be back at work, to give me time to shower and to give him time to force feed me some more.  

It is a pattern that has repeated often during the five years or so since we finally deemed it safe enough to stop running, to find a way to exist in the constricted universe we had found ourselves in.  It’s fair to say though that the transition was easier for me than it was for Mulder because as much as we both hated our transient lifestyle, at least back then he had a sense of purpose - to keep running; to keep us safe.  That purpose was pretty much bled from him the moment we stopped and no matter how much we tried to dress it up, the house and grounds for Mulder became just another prison from which there was no escape.

It was just too much of a risk for him to be seen and so, during the hours of daylight he remained indoors, venturing out only when darkness had fallen to cloak the surrounding area, to take a run, to breathe in the fresh air or just to lay back in the long grasses that surrounded the farmhouse and find solace in the stars that twinkled to infinity above him.

Sometimes I would join him, but mostly I would simply allow him this time, to clear his mind and to feel, just for an hour or two that he was free.  This complex man with his incredible mind who had been reduced to a common fugitive, denied a fair trial and forced to put on hold everything he had fought for over the previous decade to live a strange kind of half life where his old adage of trust no one took on a whole new level of terrifying; and despite everything I had sacrificed, there was never a moment where I regretted my decision to be with him because so much had been lost to me already that to lose him too was simply unimaginable.

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Too Late (CACW Peter Parker x Reader) pt.2

 i was actually flabbergasted by how many people wanted to be tagged in this bc i’m not used to people reading my writing at all even tho i’ve had this blog a year (one year today actually fun fact) 

never let you go by simple plan oddly matches this imagine rlly well 


part ein 

Other characters featured; I needed a teenage MCU character for this so I got Gwen bc she’s my fave, and ik it doesn’t fit in but it’s more of an AU gwen 

Y/N - Your name

Y/L/N - Your Last Name

Warnings; language 

Word count; 1261 

civil war spoliers in this

Originally posted by quinn-harleen

Peter took the break up much worse than you - Do hearts ever break even? 

You’d cried yourself out and dealt with the pain before you even ended it. It sucked that you could say ‘I dealt with the pain of our breakup while we were still together’ but it meant you could move on quicker and focus on your final year in school.

Peter, however, was still putting all his time into SHIELD. But now, he was sad. He still did the same thing, but with an empty heard and lack of emotion. He couldn’t seem to process that you weren’t together anymore - He found himself picking up the phone on multiple occasions, ready to call you and tell you about his day - Something he used to do everyday, even if he had been with you all day. Everyday, at least, until he got involved with SHIELD.

Then he’d remember you were no longer together, put the phone down and become dragged back into the empty realisation that Peter and Y/N were no longer a thing. 

You didn’t expect the same thing to happen to you, but as the days went on, things began to catch up with you.

‘Anyway, I’ve heard that the new biology test is gonna be really hard. So, revision tonight at mine?’ Your best friend, Gwen, asked you. She pulled open the door to the coffee shop, stepping inside. You stopped here every morning on the way to school to get your latte.

‘Morning, Y/N!’ The barista greeted you. You were a usual. ‘What can I get today?’ 

‘A latte to go please. And a black coffee.’ You replied, realising you’d just got Peter’s usual order as well. You were used to picking up coffee when you would meet him in the mornings before class. ‘Sorry, not the black coffee actually.’ You murmured, ignoring Gwen’s doubtful looks.

Peter had practically stopped going to school now - You heard two of your teachers discussing how he began taking up lessons with the infamous Tony Stark and Bruce, two of the most renowned scientists today.

This was good in a way for you, because it meant you didn’t have to see him around school or face any awkward encounters.Instead, you put your head down and began working harder to get your levels for college.

Gwen would regularly pest you about your feelings - ‘Don’t you still love him?’ ‘Shouldn’t you just check up on him, Y/N?’ 

Across the city in Manhattan, things were going in the other direction for the young vigilante. He couldn’t focus on his work. It was becoming harder and harder knowing that he couldn’t phone you if he’d had a bad day. It was like part of him was missing. 

Bruce was oblivious to any change of attitude, but Tony eventually picked up on it when he saw how Peter’s work went from outstanding to something else.

‘Before you go, there’s one more question I need you to answer.’ Tony looked up from his laptop.

‘Sure, what’s up?’

‘Which girl has broken your heart? Or guy, maybe, I don’t know what your preference is.’ Tony sat down in the chair opposite Peter, who looked slightly taken aback.

‘Y/N Y/L/N. I focused too much on this, and SHIELD, and not enough on my relationship. I didn’t realise how much I’d fucked up until Y/N ended it with me. It’s like part of me is missing. I can’t process it.’

Tony wasn’t a stranger to how Peter as feeling - Pepper had left him, after all, upon his refusal to stop fighting, to stop being Ironman, to stop being himself. It was far too late for him to change that now, but could he do it for someone else?

‘How long ago did you guys break up?’ He asked.

‘Twelve days.’ Peter replied. 

‘What exactly happened?’ He continued, almost like a therapist.

‘I became too focused on this, I guess. The hours were much longer than I expected when I signed up. I’ve been thinking about whether I would choose this or Y/N if I could turn back time. I want both, I want to make a compromise, but I didn’t bother, I didn’t protest-’

‘We’ll cut your hours down then. I can give you weekends off, make this four days a week-


‘Clearly, Y/N means the world to you. I lost the woman I loved because I was too focused on everything, and  I didn’t want to change. I didn’t even try to compromise, and I realised that too late. Go now, and at least try to fix things. It might give me a bit of peace knowing I helped at least one relationship in the process of fucking up my own.’

‘But I need to finish this question-’

‘It’s an order, Parker. Go. Now.’

In a flash, Peter grabbed his bag and ran out the room, running towards your house as fast as he could.

You had thought on several occasions over the past twelve days about whether you should have ended things or not. You regretted it, but at the same time you didn’t. You kept telling yourself that it was for the best, but also telling yourself you should’ve stayed to see if Peter really would change. 

But you pushed the thoughts aside, continuing a few more days without thinking about it. But it didn’t make it any less painful.

You were sat on your bed trying to study - But you couldn’t. Your brain was in another place and your eyes kept falling on your phone background whenever you checked your notifications. It was a picture of you and Peter from New Years Eve on Brooklyn Bridge - it was the last proper date you had before he began forgetting.

You tried texting Gwen, but she was too busy revising in her typical fashion. You sighed to yourself, leaning against the wall.

‘Y/N!’ Your mum called. ‘Someone’s here to see you!’

‘Gwen finally saw my texts then.’ You murmured to yourself, heading down the stairs. You turned the corner into the hall, your eyes landing on someone you wanted to see so badly, but at the same time not at all.

‘Hey Pete, is everything okay?’ You asked, trying to stay as casual as you could.

‘I need to talk to you, actually.’

‘I’ll give you two some privacy.’ Your mother raised her eyebrows and walked away. You began making your way upstairs, and Peter followed. You headed into your room and sat on the window seat.

‘I thought we’d already spoken.’ You said, pulling your knees to your chest.

‘Not enough.’ Peter nearly snapped. ‘I’m here because a billionaire made me. I was too cowardly to stop you walking out on me. I should’ve stopped you, I should’ve done something.’

‘Maybe I should have done something too.’ You murmured.

He nodded slightly. ‘I don’t know if you want to hear it, but I can’t do it without you. You seem to have a role in every part of my life, and it’s just not the same if you’re not there. Tony lost someone just like this and when I explained, he cut down my hours and basically forced me here.’ He smiled sadly. ‘On the way over, I had a feeling you wouldn’t forgive me, but is it worth asking?’

You didn’t think for another second - You could hear it in his voice, and see it in his eyes. He wasn’t going to fuck up again.

You didn’t verbally respond, instead, you just kissed him.

The Biologist and the Firefighter

Technically, this is backstory for the superhero AU I’m working on, but mostly its a Holsom meetcute. Yes, Holster is a firefighter, but nothing bad happens to him. 

Read it on AO3

Justin Oluransi is by absolutely no means the first scientist at the Samwell Institute to accidentally blow up his lab. Only three weeks earlier, Jenny and Mandy down in particle physics had blown something up, and one of the other men in Justin’s lab, Will Poindexter (mechanical engineering), had accidentally soldered a – well, Justin wasn’t really sure what it was, but he thinks magnesium was involved, and they’d needed to call the fire department.

And maybe Justin had been paying too much attention to the fire department closest to them after that, because one of their lieutenants was…

Well, he was six foot four and blond and had this ridiculous dimple in his chin and Justin had only ever seen him in his turnouts, but oh god how badly he wanted to see him in something else. Justin did not intentionally explode his lab, he wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last, but he was absolutely the first biologist.

This is how he finds himself sitting on the tailgate of an ambulance breathing into an oxygen mask while the unnecessarily hot firefighter stands a few feet away conferring with their director. He’s taken off his turnout coat, which is maybe Justin’s new favourite thing, because his t-shirt looks a little too small and the man looks damn fine in navy blue and he’s got an IAFF logo tattooed on the back of his triceps and Jesus.

“Now, how are my favourite lab monkeys?” the unnecessarily hot firefighter asks, coming over to the ambulance. Poindexter is sitting next to him with his own oxygen mask, Justin remembers. The third man in their lab, Derek Nurse (astrophysics) is leaning casually against the back of the vehicle since he hadn’t actually been in the lab when Justin caught it on fire.

“Can we go back to work yet?” Poindexter asks.

“Director Zimmermann says the cleaning crew is going through your lab first,” the unnecessarily hot firefighter replies. “But we’ll let you know.”

The four of them look over at the building of Samwell Institute. One of the windows is gently smoking and Justin knows it’s his own damn lab because he’s stupid. Well, no, he’s not stupid, he has a PhD from Stanford, but he’s apparently an idiot.  

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Cote de Pablo: “I’m the American dream”

Simple and spontaneous , hard to believe that this 1.70 meters tall woman with thick eyebrows, deep black eyes and an infectious laugh is the most successful Chilean actress in Hollywood. A few days ago she was in our country to accompany the mexican Patricia Riggen, the director of the film The 33 (based on the dramatic experience of the miners of Atacama) to present exclusively to them the finished film, with Antonio Banderas and Juliette Binoche as protagonists, and in which María José de Pablo (35 ) will have the role of Jessica Vega , the wife of trapped miner Alex Vega (Mario Casas) , who took charge of organizing the camp Hope above ground. Cote also is the voice of the song “Gracias a la Vida” that accompanied the production; a tribute to Violeta Parra.

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The Move: Part I - Charlie

Max hasn’t talked to me since the day I told her I was moving out. Scarlet was… well, Scarlet. She was obviously irritated but hugged me with tear filled eyes anyways. Max, though, just sat there, skulking in the booth of the diner I’d asked them to meet me at to break the news. Her arms were folded in typical Max style. She’s never been one to hide how she’s feeling. She’s not very vocal about it, but there’s no need for words with the volumes that her body speaks. The huffing and furrowed brow – arms crossed deep into her armpits and a sulky slouch that makes her look like a defiant teenager. I tried speaking to Max directly when Scarlet let me out of her embrace but she didn’t even look at me. She stood up, threw a few dollars on the table to pay for the coffee that she’d barely drank and then just stormed out of the Diner. My jaw clenched. She’s supposed to be the older sister so the immaturity level could’ve been a little less pre-pubescent.  I looked over to Scarlet who just shrugged.

“She’ll get over it, Char. Don’t worry.” I was worried. Max doesn’t just get over things ever. It took almost a year of groveling to get her to forgive me for tossing one of her Barbie dolls out of our bedroom window during one of our petty childhood fights. The best part was she had tossed Doctor Hoo(my first and favorite stuffed animal) out first. I never retaliated against any of her torment ever again. On the plus side, she also never touched Doctor Hoo again.

This fight was going to be big. I knew it was. In her eyes I was choosing a boy over her. It wasn’t that, though. I just couldn’t take living with her anymore, we live completely different lifestyles. Her partying was starting to interfere with my studying. Quiet time had become nearly non-existent. Then the space beneath the studio that Tate rented for his art went up for sale. He asked me to move in with him and I’d said yes before even thinking about it. Really, though, after taking the time to think about it I should’ve said no. Not only would my parents be vehemently against it, but I was abandoning my two roommates who couldn’t afford rent without me. On top of all of this I’d only been with Tate for two months… and we hadn’t exactly had the talk that explained why I could never stay over his place or why I avoided alone time and why I had never invited him into the privacy of my bedroom.

I was raised under the extremely strict Jacoban teachings of my parents.  Only two of their five children still practice the dated religion. My parents didn’t shove it down our throats or anything but they wore the disapproval in the depths of their disappointed eyes. They deemed Max as a lost cause by the time she was twelve. Max hated church and all of the rules that came along with it. She’d always had the tendency of breaking any rule that was imposed on her. Casey stopped believing during high school. His love for science and logic left little room in his brain for The Watcher. I was the last to stop attending church with my parents. It was after I moved out on my own. They invited me to drive up to DowntownnElizabethton twice a week and accompany them with Brian and Cullen to breakfast and Service on Sunday and dinner and Service on Wednesday – the way we had been doing for as long as I can remember. It was a forty minute drive though, and I had college to think about. I opted to start attending a local Peteran Church when I had time. Their teachings were so opposite of what I’d been raised to believe. It aligned more with my conscience. I never felt like the Watcher was an angry and punishing god. I was happy to find a place that believed things similar to my own beliefs. I stopped taking religion so seriously, though. I didn’t fear that The Watcher was watching at all times, angry about all of my mistakes, waiting eagerly to punish me if I didn’t spend hours praying for forgiveness. 

I guess I still consider myself religious, but it no longer consumes my life. My parents still call on Saturday night, pleading with me to make the drive the next day. I can hear the defeat in their voice, see the disappointment in their eyes. I know they blame Max because it all started when we moved out on our own. I think it really started getting to them when Scarlet started showing up at the cathedral with Nick and his family on Sundays. My excuses were no longer valid in their eyes because my roommate was there and she was doing just as well in school as I was. I felt so bad that I eventually ended  up going with Scarlet one Sunday, but it just felt like a big uncomfortable charade. I told my parents it would be the last time I’d be attending service with them – except of course, on Holidays. Max even still attended Christmas service with us. It’s become a running joke with my brothers during the holidays that Max is going to catch fire when she steps foot on church grounds. They keep their distance, fingers up in a barricade of crosses as she makes her way through the door.

Religion, for me, has become a guideline for living morally. Not everything taught at either Peteran or Jacoban services fully and completely align with my beliefs. My morals align with my conscious. I follow my own judgment strictly.  Something that I feel very strongly about is my virginity. I’m nineteen and I haven’t had sex yet. Meanwhile Max has made it her mission to sleep with at least one man for every year she’s been alive. She’s halfway there. I don’t judge her, if she doesn’t feel guilty about it or think it’s wrong then who am I to look down on her? She returns the courtesy to me, never pressuring me or making fun of me for choosing to wait for marriage. I mean, growing up I was adamant about waiting for marriage, now I just feel like I need to follow my heart. I think I’m mature enough and intelligent enough to know when the time is right and properly assess whether or not I’ll regret sleeping with the man I choose to give my virginity to. Unfortunately, I don’t feel like I’m quite ready to give my virginity to Tate. I know he’s not a virgin. I’ve heard the stories from friends about Sinclaire. There’s actually a group of girls in town that refer to her as Slutty Sinclaire – which is absolutely horrible. I don’t like Sinclaire, but I would never condone picking on someone. Plus, they who live in glass houses should not throw stones.

Anyways, the point I was trying to make was that I haven’t told Tate that I’m a virgin. He hasn’t pressured me or even hinted towards sex in the two months that we’ve been dating so the topic never came up. Now I’m sitting here thinking and just how on earth do I move in with a man and share a bed with him and deny him sex? I mean, he must be expecting it, right? Maybe I haven’t felt pressured because I’ve avoided those kinds of situations. I can’t stop staring at my cell phone. I need to call and tell him. This doesn’t feel like an over the phone kind of conversation, though. And it’s 11pm already and I’m currently back living with my parents while Tate dots the i’s and crosses the t’s on the purchase agreement. Oh, that’s right, I forgot to mention what Max pulled. I mean, I can’t really blame her, but she wasn’t only punishing me, Scarlet had to move out, too. 

Max found a house and spent her entire trust fund on it. She only had two days after I broke the news about moving before the house she found went up for auction. She told us about it the day before the auction, then came home the next day and told us she was broke and wouldn’t be spending any more money on rent. She’d already contacted or landlord and sold him some sob story in typical Max fashion. He actually believed her and let us out of our lease. She told us this like she’d accomplished something awesome. Technically she told Scarlet in my presence - she didn’t so much as look at me throughout the duration of her story. Scarlet was actually pissed. I’ve never seen Scarlet pissed off before, but she… well, turned Scarlet. See what I did there? Sometimes I think I’m funnier than I am. I also have a nasty habit of finding tangents that leave the point of my stories in the dust. *clears throat* So, Scarlet told Nick about all this and he swoops in like a knight in shining armor and invites her to stay – rent free- in his parents vacation home down by the beaches of Edwards County Wetlands.  So, I guess she didn’t suffer much from Max’s childishness. I however, am stuck here in my childhood bedroom while Max enjoys the perks of a short sale. 

The house she bought is in Downtown Elizabethton. I actually saw her moving in. It’s literally right down the road from Mom and Dad’s and honestly it’s just way too much house for one person. Mom and Dad are furious with the irresponsible spending of her trust. If she gets in a tight spot now she’s going to have to borrow from me or my brothers. My parents are by no means wealthy. They set up those trusts for us out of the inheritance that my mother got when our grandfather passed away. Mom was his only child and he left her everything… and everything was a lot. My parents expected the trusts to pay for college. Max dropped out after her first semester. She said it just wasn’t for her and is now ambitiously pursuing a career in freelance photography. She’s self-taught and is honestly really good.

Ugh, there’s those tangents again. I’m really just avoiding the issue at hand here. I need to stop avoiding this. I need to call Tate. I start scrolling through my recent calls and tap his name before my brain can talk me out of it. He answers on the first ring and I smile at his voice.

“Hey you. What are you doing up? You’re usually dead to the world after ten.” There’s a lot of muffled noise in the background and I can tell he’s at a party with Cider. I push down the jealousy and paranoia that has started plaguing me on a regular basis since the day this covetable boy walked into my life.

“Yea. I’m having some trouble sleeping. I need to talk to you about something.”

“I can be there in a half an hour.” I smile at his eagerness, his want to be here to fix anything and the way he already knows by my tone of voice that this is a face to face conversation.

“It’s a forty minute drive, Tate.”

“Not if I take Cider’s Porsche.” He laughs into the phone and my chest warms. It immediately turns cold when I entertain the idea that he might not want to live with me – or worse, be with me – after we have this talk. I sigh.

“Okay. See you soon?”

“Count on it, beautiful. And hey, stop pouting. I can hear the pout in your voice.” I laugh as I catch my reflection in the mirror across from my bed. I was indeed pouting.

“Drive safe.” I say with half seriousness and half sarcasm. He responds with a chuckle. Tate doesn’t make promises that he doesn’t intend to keep.  

“Oh, and Tate?”

“Yes Charlie?”

“Don’t knock. Text me when you’re here.” I don’t have to explain to him that my parents will freak out if there’s a boy in my room this late at night.

“No problem. I’m already on my way though so I need to hang up now. I’m hitting the freeway in a few seconds.”

“Alright.” I want to tell him I love him, but we haven’t made that exchange yet. There’s a silence and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing or if he’s already hung up.

“See you in a bit.” His tone was unsure and I could tell he wasn’t sure if I was still there.

“See ya.” I hung up, a heavy feeling in my chest. The comfort and sureness of forever was gone when the call disconnected. I sighed and flopped down onto my bed. I forced myself to stop staring at my phone, waiting for his text.

Twenty minutes later my phone vibrated.

The banner across the front read “But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?” I smile at the Shakespeare reference and know he means to tell me he’s out front. I force my nerves to the back of my mind as I make my way quietly to the front door. At least as quietly as I can with the weight I’m balancing in my chest. I take a deep breath as my hand wraps around the doorknob…

klnjones  asked:

emma and killian go into one of those chatrooms because they're so lonely and become really close? oh and what if they actually know each other irl? ok now that i think of it this is turning into a you've got mail au, watching it so many times with my mum must be affecting me (it's her favourite movie) but yeah, you siad you wanted au prompts to here ya go.

(this is one seriously case of “you ask me this, I give you that” that has gotten out of hand super quickly)

once upon a date.

“Come on, Emma. It’s the 21th century, everyone does it!” Ruby had said as she gave her the name of the website, and that alone – Once Upon A Date – should have been enough for her not to even check the thing in the first place. And yet here she is, staring at the cheesy website with an equality cheesy slogan about true love or some other bullshit, cursor hovering over the ‘register’ button as she bites on her nail and weighs the pros and cons.

In the ends, the pros – it’s free and she’s bored anyway – win and Emma finds herself pouring a large glass of wine before she starts typing her age and location, purposefully avoiding to upload a profile picture – the last thing she wants are some creeps harassing her for a one-night stand, thank you very much.

Which happens anyway, mind you, as she spends more time deleting gross messages from gross perverts than she does actually communicating with interesting bachelors living in the city. And when she does, when some guy actually catches her attention for more than thirty seconds, she’s barely even surprised that they go MIA the moment she – surprise, surprise – mentions Henry.

She downs her glass at the next ‘hey babe wanna have some fun ;)’ as she curses Ruby and her oh so brilliant ideas. Seriously, she’s not even that eager to find someone, not after the disaster that was her relationship with Walsh. She’s actually about to give up and delete the account, because this was all a terrible mistake, when a new message appears in her askbox. Curiosity wins out.

DashingRapscallion: “Let music sound while he doth make his choice; Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end, Fading in music.” – The Merchant of Venice

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(I am stressed and twitchy, so have a ficlet about being super hero parents)

“You’re late.”

“I noticed.” Steve was still in uniform, battered and covered in a grime that Tony was probably better off not looking too closely at. But he was alive, and safe, and home, and Tony could breathe again. “Sorry,” Steve started, his face tight.

“Don’t apologize. Romanov?”

“In medical, mostly for observation,” Steve said, as Tony jerked his suit jacket on. “She’s fine.”

Tony gave him a sharp look. “I saw the footage-”

“And she is fine,” Steve interrupted.

“You’re certain?” He tossed back half a cup of coffee in one long swallow.

“I’m certain,” Steve said, and he pulled the cup away, far enough to kiss Tony. For a second, Tony sank into it, exhaustion and stress and fear melting away. Far too quickly, he was pulling away.

“Hold that thought, I’m late,” Tony said.

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In Participation with Fanfic Friday’s @olicityficwriters

Summary: Felicity dealing with the fallout from Oliver’s lie. Can she find it in herself to forgive him or is it too late for them?   

AN: I haven’t written in awhile but a line of this came to me in the middle of the night and I promised that I’d write it if I remembered it in the morning.  

In My Veins

Lies: They have a way of coming out at the worst times. When you don’t have the time to handle them or aren’t in the right place. They have the power to save a life or take it. Build trust or break it. They’re complicated unlike the truth. The truth could be freeing or painful, sometimes causing irreparable damage, others encourages growth.

But this time…it just plain hurt. A ache deep inside her that couldn’t be soothed by words.

Her emotions were all over the place, insecurities and past pain coming to the forefront of her memory. A little voice told her that he didn’t love her-didn’t trust her, screamed at her to run, to let go. But another voice, one that sounded more like her own, the one that spoke when she was confident, happy with herself and the life she was living told her to stay. That this wasn’t something she could run away from but rather to.

Oliver stood there, as handsome as ever but oh so broken. Felicity thought she’d cut him to the core when she told him she didn’t want to be a woman he loved so long ago. She was wrong, the look in his eyes now would haunt her forever.

Her thoughts finally organized and she knew that no matter the pain it caused that the words needed to be said, if there would ever be hope for them again.

“Over the years I’ve watched you change, go from someone who killed mercilessly to a man who valued life, including his own. You found another way…” Her lungs filled with air-enough to breathe out the next sentence. “But why is it Oliver that when it comes to us you can’t?”

His mouth opened, the expression on his face enough to break her heart if it wasn’t already cracked.

“You told me you couldn’t be with someone you could really care about but then you dated Sara. Then you couldn’t be the Arrow and be with me yet we worked great together. You kept telling me you loved me in a million different ways but kept pushing me away until the Arrow was taken from you…then you chose me when there wasn’t another option.” Her voiced cracked. “Why didn’t you ever fight for us?”

And there it was. It had been there all along, deep inside. Hiding so deep that she’d believed it had been let go.

Oliver stepped forward, arms outstretched, a tear slipping from the corner of his eye and running down his cheek but she couldn’t let him touch her, knowing that if he did she would break down and everything would get buried again. He must have known too because he stepped back, his fingers twitching like all he wanted was to hold her.

“I’ve shared things with you Oliver that I’ve never told anyone else because I trusted you, and those things stayed between us. Never to see the light of day unless we both chose for them to be set free. You were issued an ultimatum, a really hard and unfair one. A choice between your own flesh and blood and the woman you love so you chose what you could live with, a lie. You’re used to lying, you’ve did it for so long it comes as second nature.”

Felicity stepped closer, just out of his reach, her hand moving to cover her heart. “When I told you I loved you-chose you-that meant that I chose to take all of you, every aspect including your past and the mistakes in it. In this case your son, he wasn’t a mistake. He’s alive and he’s part of you, the man I love with all my heart. What hurts me the most is that you thought there was a part of you I couldn’t love. After everything I thought I’d earned that trust from you.”

Finally after what felt like years of silence-quiet she’d needed to get it all out-he spoke, his voice so rough it sounded like he’d swallowed gravel.

“I wish there was a way for you to know just how much you mean to me. Words: they wouldn’t even come close. The thought of losing you, it kills me. Whether it’s you walking away or something-” He choked and had to clear his throat, forcing himself to continue. “Something permanent as death. Losing you Felicity, it isn’t a option and Barry said-”

“I don’t care what he said Oliver, ” she sighed, exasperated with the whole ordeal.“You lied! To my face and not just a little white lie like ‘I love your cooking’ cause you’ve never even lied about that but a huge lie, one that would change both of our lives forever. We are partners, that means that we’re in this together or did you forget that?”

“I know I’ll never be able to fix this, or take it back. I will always regret it-”

“I don’t want to be on the gargantuan list of Oliver freaking Queen’s regrets. What I want, what I need is for this to never happen again, because if it does…we won’t be the same. We found ourselves in each other and for that to change would mean taking a chunk out of who I am and I can’t live like that and I know you can’t either.”

Oliver nodded slowly, visibly taking in everything she’d said and digesting it.

“So I guess we’ve come full circle, back to the reason this started. Losing me. Let me tell you something Oliver Queen, I know my own mind and I will never willingly walk away from you and our life together but…right now I need some space and a promise.”

“Anything,” it was a plead and prayer in one. His gaze boring into hers, love shining in his eyes making promises before she’d even made her conditions.

“Promise me that you won’t walk away from me Oliver…I don’t mean physically. I know you wouldn’t do that but mentally, emotionally. Don’t shut me out. You do that and this will be forgiven, tomorrow forgotten.”

She stepped into his reach, his hands automatically reaching for her and finding her waist, pulling her close, inches separating them. “Can you do that?”

His eyes roamed her face, his thumb coming up to wipe a tear that had lingered on her cheek, his lips parting and pressing a kiss on the spot before pulling back. “I promise.”

And she knew he meant it. It was the only reason she allowed him to hold her, why she settled her chin into the hallow of his neck, let him kiss the top of her head and cradle her neck with his palm.

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair, his lips trailing down and brushing against her skin.

Something terrible had happened. Old fears and habits had crept back into their life, not yet having been vanquished and threatened what they had built. But like a house built on a solid foundation they had weathered the storm.

Were they stronger from it? Only time would tell. What really mattered now though was that they had time…because their love was much stronger than either of them had anticipated and with each passing day and new obstacle they faced side by side it grew stronger.

What they both knew for sure was that the days of Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak as separate human beings were over. They were in each others veins, the love and unshakable bond they shared coursing through their blood. It was becoming evident that when they bled, they healed, patching each other up without fail.

Despite all that she still pulled back, serious about the space she’d asked for. Staring up at him, her hand running down his arm until her fingers finally twined with his, reaffirming her love for him with the gesture she stepped back, his hand gripping hers until she was too far away and they lost their grip as she walked away, towards the stairs that led to their bedroom. That night she slept on his side of the bed, it felt cold and empty without him by her side but it soothed her and after what seemed like forever she drifted to sleep.

It was hours later when she awoke, the clock reading midnight on the dot. The bed dipped, covers rustling as a icy blast of air rushed against her spine causing her to shiver and goosebumps to rise. The cold only lasted as long as it took for a warm chest to plaster itself to her back, a heavy arm coming around her as his knees folded behind her own. Hot breath fanned against her neck, his stubbled jaw scratching over the smooth flesh as he whispered, “It’s tomorrow.”

As the clock flipped to twelve o'one she grabbed his hand and pulled it more firmly around her, cradling it against her chest, his palm coming to rest over her heart no doubt feeling for the steady rhythm.

“It’s forgotten,” she replied as she felt the familiar pounding of his own heart against her shoulder. Time did tell. It said love was worth fighting for, that sometimes it was difficult and near impossible but that it was always worth it. Laying next to him for the next fifty years proved that.

This work is part of the ‘We Can Be Immortal’ short collection on ao3 and can be found here (X)

*tags under the cut*

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ficlet: And The Cure Is You, Little Miracle

Inspired by this post
Cophine AU in which Cosima is a coma patient who begins to respond to the new doctor’s voice.
Word Count: 2,936

She should have known better. Pot had always been her own little miracle drug, warm and fuzzy with welcoming arms. She should have known to settle for her prescribed antibiotics when a particularly virulent chest infection had ensnared her right in the middle of winter. But Cosima did as Cosima was, the unconventional. But flu, marijuana and late night drives were in no way a healthy combination - especially when a freight truck happens to be racing down the freeway next to you. She was speeding, flying, and then.. floating. More weightless then she’d ever been under the effects of any drug, any intoxicant.

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Marauders' Hidden Talents Headcannons

Get comfortable bc I might have gone a bit in depth over these and now they are what one might call “lengthy”


Ask virtually anything about practical magic and you’d have a very sweaty, frightened looking boy on your hands, but you better believe Peter knew his shit when it came to History of Magic. He didn’t have the finesse and skill needed to master wandwork, so he put his mind to knowing facts, people, and events from as many centuries as possible. Besides being genuinely interested in history, he thought it was a very helpful subject as well (though Sirius would argue that helpful or not, any class that could literally bore you to tears was unhealthy). Peter figured learning about history, with all of the wars fought and mistakes made, helped him better make his own decisions in the present and future. Why make the same mistake some guy made 200 years ago and end up losing or dead? The other boys did well in History of Magic, but none of them as with as much gusto as Peter. It was the one class he could help the others in. Peter functioned as a living, breathing textbook for James and Sirius, as they would always ask him questions regarding their essays so they wouldn’t have to check the information (“Hey Pete, when was the third Goblin War?” “1459. It lasted eleven years and eventually ended when Germelorg the Gruesome I struggle with goblin names wiped out an entire clan”). Peter was the whiz of Wizard History.


Though he would only admit it if it suited him or if he was under duress or the influence of alcohol, he was, in fact, a damn good artist. His parents made his brother and him take drawing lessons, and though he spent the majority of the time drawing highly detailed inappropriate scenes and images, he got pretty good. The other three discovered this  when they needed a cartographer for the Marauder’s Map. James’ drawing abilities were strictly limited to snitches and stick-figure Quidditch players, and neither Remus nor Peter could draw much at all. Sirius pushed them aside, cracked his knuckles, (“Amateurs. Honestly, Remus, that is the most pathetic excuse for a straight line I have ever seen in my young life.”), and put them to shame.

In fourth year, he once drew a fairly adequate depiction of what he thought Slughorn’s ass looked like and gave it to Lily saying, “Here, so you can kiss it in your spare time as well.” She was highly offended but could not deny the fact that he had artistic skill. She spent the rest of the year asking if he liked drawing erotic pictures of Slughorn, and whether or not he drew his picture from memory.

Before he ran away, when it got particularly horrid to live with his family, he would draw the faces of his friends and places at Hogwarts that he missed (though he would flat out deny it if asked).


Of the Marauders, only Sirius and Remus were musically inclined, but Remus more so than Sirius. Walburga Black forced Sirius to play the violin for five years before he destroyed the thing beyond recognition, then did the same with the three subsequent replacements. Remus, on the other hand, had little to do during his childhood cooked up in his house besides reading and playing his mother’s old baby grand piano. He became very talented and could soon play both classical and modern songs with proficiency. It was an excellent distraction and gave him a feeling of peacefulness he could seldom find anywhere else. He could spend hours pushing the yellowed ivory keys into making something beautiful. To Remus, it was a solid proof that he wasn’t that evil creature that came out with the full moon on the inside if he could project such captivating music from within himself. When he first visited James’ house and attempted to sit down at their magnificent piano, he was astonished (and quite frankly, infuriated) that the keys played themselves. (“Why, in the name of Merlin, would anyone do that? Music should be played by people NOT MAGIC! This is just…madness!”) Ever since then, the Potters always made a point to take the charm off the piano before Remus arrived.


Ever since he was young and spent his time ambling about the woods of Potter Manner, James was fascinated by the outdoors. In fact, he would grow quite antsy and unmanageable if he stayed indoors too long. When he was eight, his parents gave him a couple books about nature and wildlife. The day and a half he spent inside the library, utterly entranced by them, was probably the longest he’d stayed indoors since he could walk. When he finished them, he proudly waltzed outside, mother in tow, and named almost every plant and animal within a hundred foot radius (using their common and scientific name) with a few extra facts thrown in here and there. Though his parents thought prayed he might grow out of it, he swiftly picked up the habit of calling living things strictly by their scientific names. They often had to ask him to please just tell them the regular name for whatever he was talking about. He was later banned from using them at all whenever he was home when he was twelve. He had yelled to his father from a window, “Dad! Come quick! An Acromantula is trying to get Ignotus!” Mr. Potter would have liked to know the creature was, in fact, a huge, carnivorous spider before going to rescue their poor dog. He was positively irate after the ordeal, but all James could think about was how strange it was for the creature to come near the edge of the woods at all. (“They are really not mates with broad daylight, you know. It must’ve been starved! I wonder if one followed me from…I mean crawled out of the Forbidden Forest and latched onto my trunk!”)

Though he could no longer show off his profound knowledge of wildlife at home (his parents could almost bring themselves to regret getting him the damn books in the first place) he took up every opportunity to show off at Hogwarts. He excelled in Herbology and later, Care of Magical Creatures, but he preferred scavenging around the Forbidden Forest with his mates. His knowledge came in especially useful when Peter, dared by Sirius, munched on the leaf of an Alihotsy shrub. At the time, James had been inspecting a centaur hoof-print, but he quickly found them after hearing Peter’s fits of uncontrollable hysteria. He recognized the plant, gave Sirius a shove, and stole a vile of melancholy syrup from the infirmary to cure Peter. Though the other Marauders thought him a colossal tosser for knowing all the bizarre nature facts, they could not deny that they came in dead helpful at times.

Before they were close, James sometimes called Lily by her scientific name (“Sirius, do pass Lilium longiflorum the marmalade”). Though she acted like it bothered her, she was secretly impressed he knew the scientific word for her namesake. Once she got to know him, she was even more impressed (and somewhat embarrassed for him, what a nerd) with his extensive knowledge of plants and animals, though at times it stretched her patience as well. When he told her he wanted to take her to the forbidden forest at night, she expected something a bit more intimate than trailing along behind him as he pointed out any and every living thing they came across.

Insert how he especially hated being cooped up inside while Lily was pregnant but obviously did it because he loved her so much I can’t because feels

I love headcannons (even though mine are kind of drabbles…I can’t really help myself) so if you have any or want to talk about mine, send me a message please!