my breath caught in my throat when i read this

High Tensions - Three

Reid x Reader

Everyday this week you’d come in to find a chocolate bar on your desk. And everyday you broke it into tiny little pieces and ate them slowly, one by one whilst reading whatever “sexy” book you could find in your local book store, making sure you were in full view of Spencer. 

So far you’d bought in Vox, Lady Chatterley’s Lover, The Tropic of Cancer and you’d finally given in and bought Fifty Shades Of Grey. You weren’t actually reading these books, only taking in small parts of the plot. The man at the bookstore had given you such a curious look when you’d taken the stack of books up to the counter. You’d just grinned at him and shrugged, commenting, “My boyfriend’s out of town.”

Today was no exception and when you strolled up to your desk you saw a large bar of dark chocolate lying in front of your keyboard. 

You knew where they were coming from and what he was trying to do. It was a well known fact that chocolate could act as an aphrodisiac. But it wasn’t working on you and you were getting sick of the taste. 

You racked your brains trying to recall other aphrodisiacs and then remembered something. You rummaged in your desk draw finding the sachets you’d ordered online last fall and headed over to the communal kitchen area. 

Five minutes later you walked back across the bullpen with two cups of coffee, placing one on Reid’s desk and one on your own which was opposite. 

“Where’s mine pretty lady?” Morgan questioned you grinning, knowing you must have done something to the drink to be only offering Spencer one. 

“Sorry handsome. I only had two left,” you sat down, drawing your chair close to your desk and logging on. Work had been quiet these last few days, leaving you all to catch up on paperwork and filing. 

Spencer looked at it suspiciously, “What have you done to it?”

You took a sip of your own, making sure you left your lipstick mark on the rim. 

“Nothing! It’s just a coffee Spencer, I swear.”

He nudged it away from him, “I don’t trust you. You’ve probably crushed some viagra up in it or something.”

“Jeez, if you’re that bothered have mine. It’s truly just coffee Spence. Flavoured coffee I ordered last year. And it was expensive so I’d appreciate you not wasting it.” You swapped the mugs over, drinking from his cup so he could see you’d not tampered with it.

You settled down and started clicking through your emails watching him out of the corner of your eye. Eventually he picked the mug up, turning it around so that your lipstick stain was the closest to his mouth rather than away from him. 

He saw you looking and smirked slightly as he raised the mug, placing his lips exactly where yours had been. 

Nice one Pretty Boy. That was kinda hot. Subtle, but hot. 

“Pumpkin. It’s pumpkin flavoured. It smells really strong.” He commented after a few moments. 

“See, told you it wasn’t anything nasty.”

You waited until he’d drank nearly the whole mug before sending an email to him.  

“Did you know that the smell of pumpkin can help increase the blood flow to the penis to encourage an erection?”

You saw his eyebrows raise and then a reply dropped into your email box a few seconds later. 

“Really? Is that all you’ve got today Y/N? It tasted and smelt nice, but I don’t feel the slightest tingle in my shorts at all. I thought you wanted to win this?”

Damn it. 

“I do want to win, and I will win. You’re hardly trying either though. Leaving me chocolate is hardly going to break me. As nice as it tastes, it really doesn’t get my juices flowing.”

You cringed at the phrase you’d just used but clicked reply anyway, not being able to think of a substitute. Spencer coughed from across the table from you, typing away again. 

“And what exactly does get your juices flowing Y/N? Those books you’ve been reading all week? How are you finding the delectable Mr Grey?”

“Pretty boring to be honest. I much preferred James Spader in Secretary. Both him and Maggie definitely would get it if I got the chance.“

“Secretary? So is that your secret fantasy, being bent over a desk and having your bottom spanked? Because if you admit defeat, then Rossi’s office is free today. I’d be happy to oblige.”

Oh my god. 

So far since the rules had changed it had seemed like Spencer was barely even trying to get you to admit defeat. Part of you wondered if his heart was really in it, if he found it too awkward or weird flirting with you or trying to come on to you. Aside from the chocolate and the way he’d reacted to you on the plane, there’d almost been no indication that he was still playing. 

Until now. 

“Spencer Reid, I quite happily would have you bend me over a desk and spank my ass, among countless other things. But I will not be asking you to do any of those things to me anytime in the near future. Now if you want to ask me to allow you to do them to me, then we’re talking.”

Peeking over at him you caught him catch his bottom lip between his teeth, slowly releasing it as he typed.

“Shame. I’ve been told I’ve quite the firm hand. I think the red print of it would look quite nice on your buttocks. There’s a few things of mine that would look very nice on you, or in you for that matter.”

Jesus fucking christ. 

“Such as?” You were tying to keep a neutral face now, but you could actually feel it flushing. 

“My mouth, tongue, fingers….eventually my dick.”

Your breath caught in your throat then and you knew you’d given yourself away. You were trying to think of a witty, sexy reply when another email dropped into your box, the subject READ ME NOW. It was from Aaron Hotchner and Spencer was copied in as well. 

“Are you two teenagers? I assume you weren’t aware that certain words flag your emails up to me?
For the love of god get on with your work before I’m forced to discipline you both for the misuse of government property.”


An email popped up from Penelope, “The instant messager function is much better guys. That’s what me and Morgan use. But my my my, Dr Reid. Who knew?”

You stifled the giggle that threatened escape your mouth before standing up and walking over to the water cooler. As you walked passed Reid, he leant out and grabbed your wrist. 

“Sure you don’t wanna head to Rossi’s office? Hotch is in meetings this afternoon.”

Lost for words you just shook your hand free and continued walking, heading to Penelope’s office instead. 


Round two to Spencer Reid.

Behind closed Doors

Characters: Dean Winchester, Y/N (Reader), Mary Winchester, Sam Winchester

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Smut(ish), oral (female receiving) getting caught, I might have scared Dean for life, fluff overload.

Wordcount: 2400ish

A/N: Again this is all Rach’ fault. This can be read as a stand alone one shot or the third part to these two: The Real Thing and Long Night.

Thanks to my annoying sassy little sister @mysupernaturalfics who forced this out of me for also betaing it. I love you Rach <3

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

“Dean….” You were standing in the kitchen making a sandwich when you felt hands on your hips, pulling you back against him. You breath caught in your throat when his lips attached to your neck.

You still weren’t sure what the two of you were to each other. Your heart had shattered into a million pieces when you thought he had died. You had allowed yourself to play all the things that could have been between you two over and over in your head. Guilt overwhelmed you when you had returned to the Bunker after a few days on your own to find Sam gone and Dean still alive. Not only was Dean alive, his mother Mary who had been dead for 33 years was too.

Things had been so hectic at first you hadn’t given the lack of nights spend in each others rooms any thought. When Sam returned and things began getting back to normal, or as normal as they could be now Mary was around, you missed them.

Dean hadn’t visited you and you weren’t sure how he felt so you had stayed in your own room every night, hoping each night would be the night he came through your door. He didn’t. Still you hadn’t realized how much you had longed for him until this moment. Not until you felt his hands slide under your shirt, sending jolts of electricity through your body.

“Dean…. What are you doing?” You tried to protest but rather than pulling away from him you tilted your head allowing him better access to your neck.

Keep reading

mickey mouse star ~ jack avery

a/n: @noodles-send-n00ds

i was lost in a sea of fans that swarmed around me and my boyfriend. the two of us were trying our best to keep our hands linked together so we wouldn’t lose one another, but that clearly was not the case. in a matter of minutes, our hands were broken apart and the two of us were surrounded by our supporters. 

jack, of course, had supporters because he is so talented in the musical field and was about to drop the band’s new EP, which everybody was excited for. 

i, however was not about to drop an EP, but i had been featured on a few mainstream artists’ songs, which allowed me to gain followers left and right. 

because of the unbelievable amount of people who decided i was worth their time, it was bound to happen that people would ask me to marry them. it had happened before at meet and greets or on the street or anything like that. i always said yes just to be nice and to not hurt anybody’s feelings, and it was always so fun to see the huge smile break out on their face. 

little did i know, i would be experiencing something so so much better than that in the blink of an eye. 

“will you marry me, y/n” someone asked over the noise of the crowd as i was signing something for another sweet girl.

“yes, of course i wi-” my breath got caught in my throat when i turned around, not allowing to to say another word. as soon as i turned around, the crowd split open into two. now there was an open aisle between the crowd and just barely five feet that separated me and the love of my life. 

there jack was, on one knee in the middle of hollywood. he was kneeling on some star, but i didn’t have time to read that right now. all i could look at was the eyes of the gorgeous boy in front of me. i stared at him and he stared back at me before he repeated his question. 

“will you marry me, y/n y/l/n?” he asked again, a bit more of both hope and fear across his face than there was the first time. i nodded profusely like an idiot for a second before being verbal and launching myself at the man of my dreams. 

“oh my god, yes! of course i will!” i screeched, running towards him and throwing my arms around his neck just as he stood up. he hugged back even tighter (if that was even possible) and lifted me a few inches off of the ground before releasing his grip. he took my left hand in his and slipped the ring on my finger, causing the entire crowd to cheer. 

we hugged again, and this time much tighter. 

“holy shit,” i whispered into his ear, causing a giggle to escape his lips. 

“thank god you said yes,” he replied, speaking softly into my hair. “i didn’t want to get turned down at all, let alone in front of all of these people.” a smile broke out on your face as you pulled your head back a bit so you two were face to face, literally. 

“you proposed on the mickey mouse star,” you said in a monotone voice.

“when we were kids we would always watch mickey mouse together, remember?” he replied, not skipping a beat. 

“i love you so fucking much,” you told him in a voice that only he could hear, the waterworks beginning to flow. 

he saw the tears in your eyes and pulled you into yet another embrace before whispering, “i love you so fucking much more, baby.”


Unfinished Symphony

Suits100 prompt #71 - Harvey finds a letter from his father.

(Main) Pairing / Character - Mike Ross/Harvey Specter

Gifset by @loyalty2waystreet

Writing by @novemberhush

Word count - 3,654

Thanks to the amazingly talented, wonderfully supportive and endlessly caring @loyalty2waystreet for surprising me with this gorgeous gifset at a time when my motivation was waning. I absolutely love it! It really inspired me to keep going and I’m sure you will all agree with me when I say how beautiful it is.

Thanks also to Aqua and Erin for undertaking to organise the Suits100 event in the first place, and to whoever originally submitted this particular prompt. I hope what I’ve done with it doesn’t disappoint you too much!

He had first found the letter when he’d went to clear out his father’s place in the weeks after his death. It was a rented apartment, the family home having been sold off following the divorce and the proceeds divided between Gordon and Lily. Harvey could easily have kept the place on, but it had never meant anything more to Gordon than a place to hang his hat and rest his head. It had never been ‘home’ to either him or his eldest son and Harvey therefore held no attachment to it. All he cared about was the parts of his father it housed.

The record collection that had inspired Harvey’s own and which was even more extensive. His saxophone and other varied instruments. All the memorabilia commemorating a life soaked in music. Photos, ticket stubs, posters. The hat his father swore had been given to him by Thelonius Monk himself. These were the things Harvey cared about. Not the four walls that surrounded them.

Gordon’s will had been straightforward enough. All his money was split evenly between Harvey and Marcus, except for a few small bequests here and there to a handful of old friends and charities close to his heart. As for everything else, well, there were some items of sentimental value left to Marcus. Their grandfather’s watch, for example. (Harvey didn’t mind in the slightest. It wasn’t to his taste and he’d always hated the old buzzard anyway.)

There were a few other things, but the bulk of it, mostly musical in nature, went to Harvey. Marcus raised no objections, never having shared his father and brother’s love of music.

And so Harvey had found himself spending a weekend packing up his late father’s belongings, all his worldly goods, the mementos of a life, tucked away safely in boxes to be transported to Harvey’s condo. Donna had offered to help, Marcus and Jessica too, but this was something Harvey had felt he needed to do alone. Which meant there was no one there to witness him stumbling across the envelope in the desk drawer, addressed to himself in his father’s flowing handwriting. No one to hear the way his breath caught in his throat or see how his hand shook. To glimpse the tears he blinked back.

He sat there for a full half hour, just staring at it as if he could divine its contents without actually opening it, but eventually he’d carefully peeled it open and extracted the letter inside. The letter that began:-

To my dear son, Harvey,

Hey, kid. If you’re reading this then you’ve either been snooping in my desk or I’ve gone to the great Blue Note Café in the sky without telling you all the things I should have told you when I still had the chance, all the things I’ve put in this letter. And as you were never much one for snooping I’m guessing it’s not looking too good for your old man right about now…

And that was as far as he got before the tears refused to be blinked back any longer and the dam broke. The letter was put back in its envelope, never read beyond the first paragraph, once he was all cried out. Whatever his father wanted to tell him, Harvey wasn’t ready to hear. He wasn’t ready to hear what he felt sure was his father’s final goodbye to him.

Life went on. Harvey’s career flourished even as his personal life became one long string of meaningless encounters with anonymous strangers and the occasional hook-up with Scottie whenever she was in town. The firm was his unit, Jessica his general and Donna his trusted second-in-command. Louis was Forrest Gump. With less gumption. Harvey didn’t see what more he could need.

And then one day another anonymous stranger walked into a hotel suite, dropped a briefcase full of weed at his feet and soon Harvey didn’t know how he’d survived this long without him.

Now, six years later, that blue-eyed stranger was no longer a stranger, but Harvey’s loyal lieutenant and junior partner in the firm. Mike Ross, ex-con, attorney at law and all-round bleeding heart. He’d also just taken it upon himself to pack up Harvey’s old office and transfer everything into his new one, recently vacated by Jessica, apparently. Or at least that was the only explanation Harvey could come up with for why he came to be standing in what he could have sworn was still his office, looking around and wondering just what in the hell had happened to it and all his things.

“Mike, what the fuc-”

“Relax, Harvey, your stuff is fine. I just moved it all into your new office, seeing as you were never gonna get around to it, so I could take possession of mine.”

“If there’s so much as one scratch on any of my records, rookie…”

“I know, I know, you’ll feed me to the fishes, yadda yadda yadda,” Mike said, rolling his eyes with a smirk and leaving Harvey nostalgic for the good old days when he could intimidate the kid with a single look.

Before he could try out any more threats, though, Mike reached into his inside jacket pocket and produced an envelope.

“By the way, I found this when I was packing up your records. It fell out of the sleeve of one of them. Thought it might be important.”

He held the envelope out for Harvey to inspect, but he didn’t need to look to know what it was. His father’s letter. Hidden away inside one of his favourite records, never forgotten, but pushed to the back of Harvey’s mind along with all the other things he didn’t want to deal with. Like his feelings for the man sitting in front of him. The engaged to someone else man sitting in front of him, Harvey reminded himself. But one emotional crisis at a time, right?

“It is important,” Harvey croaked, voice suddenly thick. When he didn’t elaborate further Mike cocked an eyebrow at him as if to say Go on, I’m listening.

With a sigh, Harvey gingerly took the letter, staring down once again at the familiar handwriting.

“It’s a letter my father left for me,” he murmured. “I found it among his things after he died.”

Mike’s eyebrows shot up. “Jesus. That must’ve … Christ, I mean, I bawled my eyes out when Father Walker gave me one of my old childhood books that my parents had written a message in for me, but this … he left you this, knowing he’d be gone when you read it. That must’ve been pretty intense, finding it like that.”

“Yeah,” Harvey agreed.


Silence fell between them then, but Harvey knew Mike well enough to know that mind of his was far from silent.

“Spit it out, Mike. I know you’re dying to know. It’s okay, you can ask.”

Mike hesitated for a second, an aborted denial hovering on his lips, before giving in to his innate curiosity.

“What’s it say?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t get beyond the first paragraph,” Harvey replied, a wry smile on his own lips.

“What?? Why not? Come on, it can’t have been that bad. Loving parents - and by all accounts that’s what your dad was - don’t leave their kids letters telling them how disappointed they were in them or how they never wanted them to begin with. They tell you how much they love you and how proud they are of you. Why wouldn’t you want to read that?”

Harvey shrugged. “I didn’t always give him reason to be proud of me.”

“Bullshit!” The vehemence in Mike’s voice startled Harvey, causing him to jerk his head up and stare at Mike as intently as he’d been staring at the envelope.

“You can’t seriously think your dad left you a list of all your faults and misdemeanours, Harvey, come on.”

“No, I know, you’re right, it’s stupid. I guess I … I …”

“You weren’t ready to say goodbye.”

As usual Mike had cut straight to the heart of him in a way only he could.


“Are you ready now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. I know it’s a letter, but this feels like the last conversation I’ll ever have with him.”

“Maybe. But I’d lay odds on it being one you’ll feel better for having.”

“You think so?”

“I do. And you wanna know something else? I’m jealous of you right now.”

Harvey’s forehead creased in confusion. “Jealous? Why the hell would you be jealous?”

“Because I’d give almost anything for one more conversation with my mom or my dad or Grammy. This is a gift, Harvey. Open it.”

Nodding, Harvey did just that, but stopped as Mike got up and began to walk away.

“Where are you going? Aren’t you going to stay? Don’t you want to know what it says?”

“Yeah, and you can tell me when you’re ready. If you want to, that is. But this is a conversation between you and your father and it should be a private one. I’ll be at McGinty’s nursing a whiskey. There’ll be a glass waiting for you if you want to talk afterwards. Or not. We can just sit and drink. But right now it’s father/son time and I don’t want to intrude on that.” He strolled towards the door, turning before he left to add with a smirk, “Besides, I’m pretty sure your pride can’t handle me seeing you cry like Louis after sex.”

Harvey returned the smirk with one of us own. “And how do you know Louis cries after sex, rookie?”

“Please. It’s Louis. Of course he cries after sex. And before. And durin-”

“Okay, okay,” Harvey interrupted, rolling his eyes. “Just have the scotch ready, wiseass.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Mike retorted, standing to attention and saluting.

Harvey huffed a laugh before a thought struck him. “Hey, not that I don’t appreciate it, but it’s late enough as it is. Won’t Rachel mind you dragging me to some faux Irish bar to sit around drinking cheap scotch all night while the patrons get misty-eyed and sing songs about the homeland while you try to get me to spill my guts?”

Mike stilled, the smile faltering on his face before falling away completely.

“No, Rachel won’t mind. She won’t even know. She’s staying at her parents’ place for a while. We, ah … we’ve decided to take some time out from our relationship.”

“What?? Since when?”

“Since I suggested we postpone the wedding. Again.”

“Mike, I … I don’t know what to say.” Well, that wasn’t strictly true. His heart had a few suggestions. Like, Please tell me it’s over for good. And, Tell me you don’t love her. Or, Am I the reason you keep postponing the wedding? Please say yes. But something stopped him from saying any of that. Harvey told himself it was his honour, because wishing the end of someone’s relationship was almost as bad as physically interfering in it, but he suspected at least part of it was cowardice. He didn’t want to hurt Rachel, true, but he didn’t want to risk Mike’s rejection either.

“You don’t have to say anything, Harvey. It’s on me. I’m the one who can’t commit to her.”

“Why not?” Harvey asked, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them. His heart applauded even as the rest of him quivered with fear. The question hung heavy in the air between them and Harvey fell back on his favourite fail-safe to defuse the tension - humour.

“What? You get a better offer or something?”

Mike didn’t crack a smile. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t even blink. He just stood there and looked at Harvey, long and hard, a searching, scrutinising look on his face that left Harvey feeling stripped bare.

“Not yet,” he finally replied, voice low and hoarse. And with that he was gone, leaving Harvey with more questions than answers. He suddenly wished he had that drink in his hand already. That thought reminded him that he already had something in his hand. His father’s letter. Foregoing the scotch for now, he sank into the nearest chair, took a deep breath, and began reading.

To my dear son, Harvey,

Hey, kid. If you’re reading this then you’ve either been snooping in my desk or I’ve gone to the great Blue Note Café in the sky without telling you all the things I should have told you when I still had the chance, all the things I’ve put in this letter. And as you were never much one for snooping I’m guessing it’s not looking too good for your old man right about now…

I’m sorry to do this to you, son. I should have told you all these things face to face, but somehow I never got around to it, and now the doc is telling me my old ticker ain’t doing too good and it feels like there’s so much to say that I don’t know where to begin.

First things first, I suppose, so let’s get the obvious out of the way. At least, I hope it’s obvious. I love you, Harvey. And I’m proud of you. I’m so, so proud of you. I think you know that. Jesus, I hope you know that. I hope I told you that enough when I was alive. I hoped it showed in everything I did and said when we were together. I think you know. I think you know.

Secondly, it wasn’t your fault, you know. You know what I’m talking about. Your mother’s infidelity. I know that as far as the rest of the world is concerned you appear to lay all the blame for the break-up of our marriage at your mother’s door, but you don’t fool me. I see the little boy, hiding behind his anger, using it as a shield to deflect attention away from the fact that he wonders if it was his fault, wonders if he did something to drive her to it. You didn’t. It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault. There was nothing you did to cause it and nothing you could have done to prevent it. You were a child when it started. Hell, for all I know it started before you were even born. But I do know this - it was not your fault. Okay? You didn’t make her cheat. Get that through that goddamn head of yours.

And stop beating yourself up about being the one to tell me about it, too. Truth is, I think I always knew, deep down. I just didn’t want to admit it. I knew your mother was unhappy and I turned away and pretended not to see. Because I was afraid of losing her. I loved her, and I wanted her to be happy, and she wasn’t. And that made me feel like a failure. But instead of letting her go, I clung on. I told myself it would be okay. If we could only make it to Thanksgiving we’d be okay. Or to Christmas. Or your birthday. Or our next anniversary. But I was kidding myself. When you love someone, and they don’t love you back, it’s never  okay. It’s soul destroying. But keeping someone tied to you when you know they’d rather be free, that’s killing the person you love, slowly but surely. A little part of your mother died with every passing year and I did nothing to stop it. I did nothing to help her.

I pretended that all she needed was a little space from time to time. So I agreed to tour with anyone who asked me. I told myself that she missed me as much as I missed her when I was on the road. But her voice on the other end of the line was always cold when I called. Except when we talked about you and Marcus. She always loved you two. Her beautiful boys, she called you. You remember that? Her beautiful boys. But you were mine, too. My beautiful, proud, stubborn, hard-headed boys.

But it’s that pride and stubbornness and hard-headedness that has me worried now. (Not about Marcus. I know he’ll be all right. He has Katie and your mom and if anything good came from him being sick before it was that it taught him it’s okay to reach out to people when you need them. You, though, I’m afraid the only thing you’ll reach for is the scotch.)

You see, I’ve been talking to your mother. Her and Bobby both. I should have told you that. I should have told you it was all right to forgive her. To love her. But I was scared. Scared you’d think me weak for forgiving her. Scared I’d lose your respect. But it wasn’t fair to either of you. Maybe nothing I said would have made a difference, but I could have tried. So much time you’ve lost. Time you could have spent repairing your relationship. And now I’m gone and you’re going to need someone, Harvey. And if not your mother, who?

I know you won’t lean on Marcus. You take your role of big brother far too seriously to allow you to do that. There’s Jessica and Donna, and even Louis, of course. But you won’t open up to them. You won’t let them see you weak, even though they’d never judge you for it. And you know I like Scottie, but you need someone who does more than just challenge you, Harvey. You need someone you can let yourself be weak around. Someone you don’t have to appear strong to all the time. But to do that you’d need to let someone in, and that doesn’t come easy to you, kid. I guess you can blame your mother and me for that. You heard me talk about our great love so many times, and you saw the truth of that love, how it only went one way, and now you doubt it could ever be any other way. But it can, Harvey. It can. You just have to be open to it.

And here’s the thing. If I had it to do all over again, I would. If I could go back in time to that first night we met, I wouldn’t change a thing. I would still ask her if I could take her home. I wouldn’t walk away. I wouldn’t know how to. Because I don’t regret your mother, I could never regret her. And not just because she gave me you boys (although, of course, I’d never give you up for the world). I’m not good with words, but I’ll try to explain.

Before Lily most people were just … white noise. There’d been other women before her, but they were nothing more than background music. Easy listening. Safe, comfortable, predictable. But Lily, oh, she was a blues song and a country ballad. Soul and jazz and gospel. She was rock and roll and she was Beethoven’s Fifth. She was ‘Ode to Joy’ sung by choirs of angels. My lullaby. My national anthem. My requiem. She was it all. She still is.

Some people are their own magnus opus. A great work in and off themselves. I think your mother is one of those people. But most of us are works in progress. Unfinished symphonies just waiting for the right one to come along and complete them. Your mother completed me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t return the favour. She didn’t need me to.

You pretend you’re one of the ones who truly don’t need anyone else to come along and help them compose their life’s song, Harvey, and maybe you even believe it. But I know better. I know you. You’re the sweetest tune I ever produced, kid, but you’re an unfinished symphony. And somewhere out there there’s someone with all the right notes. You just gotta find them, and when you do - let them in.

Maybe it’ll be love at first sight, like me with your mother. Maybe it’ll take a little longer. But you’ll know it’s them when you find yourself breaking every rule you ever made for yourself. I swore I’d never fall for a groupie, but five minutes with your mother and I was already planning the proposal.

I would have went anywhere with her, put her above everyone I’d ever known, given up my life for her. Hell, I’d have even given up music for her if she’d asked me to. When you find someone you’d give it all up for, you’ll know. And you’ll understand why I never stopped loving your mother. It was beyond my power to do so. But even if I could’ve, I wouldn’t. Because your mother was the most beautiful song I ever heard and no matter how it ended I wouldn’t have missed a single note for anything.

You’ve never been afraid of anything in your life, son. Don’t start now. Don’t be afraid of loving someone. Life’s too short, take it from me.

I love you, Harvey. Never doubt it.

All my love,


Harvey let the letter drop to the desk in front of him as the silent tears that had been threatening to fall all through his reading of it finally found release. For maybe the first time in his life he understood what people meant when they said crying could be cathartic.

When he had pulled himself together enough to talk he didn’t even hesitate as he reached for his phone and hit Mike’s number. His dad was right. He was Harvey goddamn Specter and he’d never been afraid of anything in his life. He wasn’t going to start now.

“Mike? Hey, listen - how soon can you get to my place? The scotch is better there and I have an offer I’d like to run by you…”

liv’s pxs fic recs!

hi everyone! so because of the hurricane, and because I always want to spread positivity in the petyr x sansa fandom I’ve decided to make a top ten fic rec list for pxs, complemented with my own gushing comments about these wonderful fics.

disclaimer: there are so many phenomenal fics on ao3; these are just the ones I personally always go back to. I probably definitely forgot some that I’ve loved, so please don’t be offended! I’ll try to include tumblr urls for all the ones I know as well. (if you know a tumblr url that I don’t use message me!) 

so in no particular order and below the cut - the fics I would use to introduce someone to the pxs fandom: 

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Exhaulted Part Twenty-Three

Originally posted by falling-through-autumn

Parts: Prologue, One, Two, Three (M), Four, Five, Six (M), Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen (M), Twenty, Twenty-One, Twenty-Two (M), Twenty-Three, Twenty-Four (Coming Soon!)

Genre: Drama, Romance, Violence, etc.

Pairing: SehunxReaderxMinseok

Word Count: 7.1K

A/N: A few days early as an I’m sorry for missing last week. Thank you all who read <3 Ominous gif, wouldn’t you say… Feel free to send me messages with your thoughts/tears on this part >:)

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anonymous asked:

Warren's breath hitches whenever your fingertips rub circles under the waistband of his pants. He can't help it and his bottom lip gets caught between his teeth as you get on your knees in front of him. From there on, he can't even make a full coherent sentence; it's only low, rough sounding "fuck"s and pants and moans that rumble deep within the back of his throat. He tries to muffle the noises he makes but can't when he comes; and that's when he lets out the most desperate sounding whimper -ho

bithc,,, i read the first line of that and had to take a deep breath and run my hand over my face. nothing could have prepared me.

Woc Blurb: Your Soldier

Hey guys!! This isn’t a requested imagine; I just thought we could use some Dunkirk Harry!! It’s a blurb so it’s short; I literally took 10 minutes to write this.  As always, comment, give feedback, ask questions, and most of all, Enjoy!! Xoxo


There were small teardrops resting on your eyelashes as you opened up the package that had been sent to you from France.  With trembling hands you pulled back the brown flaps of the package, your eyes roving over the full box.

Immediately, the scent of Harry overwhelmed you and you took a deep breath in, breathing him in even though he wasn’t with you.  You closed your brown eyes briefly and it was almost if he was in the room with you, even for just a moment.  You took in another deep breath before opening your eyes, a few tears leaking down your cheeks, creating a path for more to come.

With trembling fingers you reached into the package and felt the smooth piece of paper, small pen indentations on it.  You quickly pulled it out of the box and you felt your face soften as you turned it over, your eyes soaking up Harry’s penmanship; it looked to be a piece of paper from his journal.  With a shaky breath you looked it over, a sting beginning to return to your eyes.

Y/N, my love….

First off, I miss you dearly.  It’s been three months now since I have seen you, and in an ironic twist I feel as if I am truly at war, writing to my love as many before me have.  Even though much of my mind has been on filming, you are always there nestled deep inside my mind, my heart, and my soul.  I love you so much, and this separation reminds me of when I was on tour and I couldn’t see you the way in which I wanted to… which was every day.  Luckily, filming isn’t as long as touring the world, and we only have about a month or two left.  Nolan is a phenomenal director and I feel like I’ve grown a lot during this.  Suddenly I feel like a small boy again, learning so much and honestly it’s quite humbling.  I wish I could take you around and introduce you to everyone; they all know who you are because you’re all I talk about.  God, I miss you like crazy, love.  I keep on thinking how beautiful you’ll look when I see you again.  How I’ll run my fingers through your curls and cuddling with you, holding you in my arms.  How we’ll look when we walk the red carpet for Dunkirk’s premiere. It’s mad how I seem to ramble even in my writing.  I’m imagining you laughing at that.  Just know that I love you, and in this package I’ve added some things that I hope will lift your spirit.  I know how much of a sacrifice you’re making, and I love you for it.  Call me tonight, I look forward to your calls more than you know.

                           I love you kitten,


Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to breathe without letting out shaky breaths.  After reading over his beautiful words, you brought the piece of paper up to your heart and held it there, tears dripping from your eyes.  You missed Harry like crazy and it was somehow comforting knowing that he felt the same way; that he hadn’t forgotten about you in all of this filming madness.

With quivering fingers you rubbed at your teary eyes before setting the note down with care on the kitchen’s center aisle.  You then reached into the packaging box once more and felt the cottony fabric of a shirt. You quickly pulled out Harry’s old Ramones tshirt and you let out a laugh.  You had been searching for that shirt for ages, wanting to wear it when you really missed Harry.  You didn’t even understand why he took it; it probably didn’t fit him anymore.

You immediately hugged it to your chest and turned back and forth on your barefeet, getting Harry’s warm scent all over you.

You looked back into the box to find a couple of Harry’s favorite sweaters and you smiled happily. He was so sweet, always thinking of you. Somehow, the clothes helped to keep your heart light.

The box was still pretty heavy and you reached in to find the last thing, using both hands.  When you pulled it out you gasped.

It was a helmet and it looked pretty vintage.  You turned it over in your hands; it was heavy and you handled it with care.  As you inspected the inside of the helmet you found another note stuck to the inside of it.

Curious, you unstuck the note from the helmet before setting the helmet down carefully on the center aisle next to the first note.

You recognized Harry’s scrawl once more and with raised eyebrows you read over what he wrote.

One last thing, Y/N…

Filming ends soon and I’m done with one of the pieces of my costume. I asked if I could keep it, but I figured it would be better in your hands….. I’ve been known to be a klutz at times.  I love you, and I’ll be home soon.  

      Your soldier, Harry

You smiled to yourself as you ran a finger over the pen’s indentations.  Harry was away and yet with all these pieces of him around you, he was closer than you’d originally thought.  As you looked around your empty apartment, your heart reached a peaceful rhythm, knowing your soldier would be home soon.

New Kid (part 1)


Not requested

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1 382

AU: High School

(Part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5)

“Tae!” He didn’t even slow down and with a groan, I sped up my pace until I was running. When I came closer I could see that he had earphones in his ears and was probably blasting music at the highest volume possible. Typical Taehyung. A loud screech left his lips when I drove my finger into his side. He squirmed away from me and looked at me with big shocked eyes. Slowly he pulled the earphones out.

“You scared me half to death!” I couldn’t help but laugh at that. He was always easily scared, and ticklish. “Why am I friends with you?” He muttered and put one of the earphones in again. He had slowed down his pace so I could actually keep up with his long legs. Compared to me everyone in this place had long legs.

“You didn’t hear me. What was I supposed to do?”

“Oh I don’t know, pat my back like a normal person?”

“But what’s the fun in that.” He glared at me. Tae was two years older than me meaning he will graduate this year so I had to find some new friends. My other friend Jimin was the same age as Tae so he’ll leave too. I will be all alone in this hell hole for two whole years. We met up with Jimin outside of their class and I continued towards my first lesson; creative writing. I loved that class, it was the best way to release all of my thoughts without anyone judging them.

I entered the classroom with my head held high, most people in my year were so fake and I would not let them bring me down. I would just mind my own business and hopefully, they would do the same thing. The teacher arrived just as I sat down in the back of the class. No one would bother me here and I had a clear view of everyone, it gave me a sense of control, knowing what was going on around me.

“Good morning class.”

“Good morning Miss Duvall.” No one had the courage not to greet Miss Duvall back in the morning, especially if she missed her coffee in the morning which most of the time you could smell from miles away.

“I hope that all of you finished your homework this weekend.” Some students groaned while I calmly took out my papers and put them at my desk for Miss Duvall to take. Call me a good girl but I was not prepared for Miss Duvall’s hidden rage. She walked around the room collecting the works and glaring at the students who hadn’t done it. That was when the door slammed open and everybody turned towards the unlucky kid who had arrived late.

The boy’s face was slightly flustered from both embarrassment and the fact that he probably ran to get here not too late. I haven’t seen him around before so I guess that he was new. His black hair was slightly ruffled and fell down in this eyes, he got a frightened look on his face when he located Miss Duvall in the middle of the classroom. He quickly bowed down and apologized profusely. To everyone’s astonishment, Miss Duvall’s face softened and she smiled.

“It’s ok, you’re new so I don’t expect you to know your way around here just yet. Please, sit down in any available seat.” He bowed again and sat down in the seat closest to him with his face down, cheeks still blossoming. I don’t think I’ve ever met a boy who actually looked good but was so shy. This kid intrigued me. Miss Duvall started speaking making me snap my attention back to her.

“You all know that exams are coming up and I want you all to be very prepared for this year’s writing assessments. I will, therefore, put you in pairs and assign you all a specific genre. You will then write a three-page story within this genre and I want both of you to come up with ideas and actually write something. Make sure that you all use the correct grammar and include all the parts needed to make a good story.” She then started telling us who we were supposed to work with. I hated working in pairs, I prefer to work alone since I have more control over the outcome that way. I straightened my back when I heard my name.

“Y/N and Jungkook…..” I furrowed my eyebrows. I’ve never even heard that name before who could that be. Then it hit me, the new kid. I looked over at him and saw how he scanned the classroom confused since he didn’t know who I was. I smiled when our eyes met and relief washed over him. He gathered his stuff and slowly walked over to me. A small smile was given to me when he sat down.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” I held my hand out and he carefully took it.

“Jungkook.” He murmured, wow this kid was shy. A small paper landed on my desk and I unravelled it.


I immediately felt my cheeks heat up and Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat as he read it over my shoulder. How awkward won’t it be to write a freaking romance story with a boy I’ve never really spoken to before.  I deeply sighed and took out my computer from my bag. I turned to Jungkook.

“Any ideas?” I just wanted to get this over with. He seemed to think for a while before shaking his head. Another sigh, this was going to take a while.

When class finished we had at least figured out the main characters. It was more than nothing.

“Hey.” I stopped him before he could leave the classroom. “If you want we can work on this at my place tomorrow since it’s due next week.” He seemed a little awkward at my request but nodded.

“S-sure.” And then he was out the door. I just smiled and shook my head at him.

After leaving my stuff in my locker I headed towards the cafeteria. It wasn’t hard spotting the loud dorks near the windows. They were barely eating their food, instead, they were trying to throw it at each other. I was contemplating on leaving right then and there but I didn’t have anyone else to sit with. Hesitantly I took some food and made my way over to their table.

“Y/N!” Jimin exclaimed and stood up to hug me. I looked him over quickly but the only food on him was the salad in his bright orange hair so I hugged him back. As soon as I sat down they started complaining about their math class and how they didn’t understand a thing. I just rolled my eyes at them, as if they even tried to understand their class.

“KOOKIE!!!” Jimin exclaimed, jumped out of his seat and started waving his arms to catch someone’s attention. I turned around, confused and saw Jungkook stop in his tracks. His cheeks burned red and he started turning around to leave. Tae jumped out of his seat and wrapped his arms around Jungkook’s shoulders.

“Come on Kookie, sit with us.” He literally pushed Jungkook down in one of the chairs. Jungkook looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here right now.

“Y/N, this is Jungkook, he’s new here and in the same grade as you.” I nodded.

“I know, we’ve met,” I said and smiled apologetically towards Jungkook. “How do you know each other.”

“We’re childhood friends,” Jimin said and hugged Jungkook from the side. Jungkook desperately tried to escape but to no luck, Jimin was too strong.

“I’m debating the friends part at the moment,” Jungkook said and finally succeeded in pushing Jimin off of him. Jimin and Tae glared at him then they turned their back. This led to Jungkook throwing bread crumbs on them leading to yet another small food fight. I just shook my head and started eating. Sometimes when I looked up Jungkook was looking at me and we exchanged small smiles. He had a really cute smile, he was cute overall. Hopefully, he’ll warm up to me soon and be less shy around me.



Calum Hood Imagine for Kaitlyn

Helloooo, I love your calum imagines. Anyway, could you write one where his ex text him something inappropriate and gets her worried and really upset because she thinks he’s cheating. Then she tries to leave and stuff but Calum explains? My name is Kaitlyn btw.

“I’m going to order pizza. Want anything in particular?”

“Pepperoni pizza?”

“Okay.” He grabbed his phone and walked into the kitchen.

I heard him talking to the pizza guy and heard multiple sounds go off on my phone, alerting me to show that I has a new text. When I picked it up, I realised that this was actually Calum’s phone. He must of picked mine up by mistake. My breath caught in my throat when I saw his ex’s name, Amber,pop up on the screen. The two of us knew each other’s pass code so I unlocked it and went to his messages to read it.

Amber: Is she sleep?
Amber: I miss you
Amber: I can’t stop thinking about how good you made me feel
Amber: How many times you made me orgasm
Amber: I need you Calum, come over please

I bit my lip, deciding to pretend I was him to get some answers.

Calum: Do you now?

Amber: Yeah, I do ; )

Calum: What do you miss

Amber: The way your tongue feels in between my legs. How your cock feels when it’s deep inside of me. How you moaned in my ear while you were pounding into me.

I took a deep breathe, pinching the bridge of my nose while trying to hold myself together.

“I’ll be right back,babe. I have to pee!” He called, taking the stairs by twos.

Calum: How long it’s been since the last time you saw me

Amber: Three days too long
Amber: I wanted to maul you right there, but imagine what that would look like to your little prissy princess

A tear rolled down my cheek and I quickly wiped it.

Calum: and you already miss me

Amber: You made me feel so good. How could I not think about fucking you senseless?

Calum: I have to go, she’s coming back

Amber: call me when she’s sleep;)

“I accidentally took your phone instead of mine.” He laughed lightly, but his smile dropped when he saw me on the couch with my head in my hands. “Are you okay? Do you have a headache?” He asked, sitting next to me and pulling me into his side.

“Do. Not. Touch. Me.” I growled and he hesitantly let me go.

“What’s wrong?”

“H-How could you, Calum. I gave up everything for you. I do everything I can to keep you happy and you just-” I stood up, wiping the tears from my face. Calum furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and I tossed his phone into his lap.

“Amber texted you, so I pretended to be you.” I watched his face as he read the messages and then it turned to worry. “You fucked her three days ago and cane back late that night Luke nothing happened. You even told me that you loved me before you went to sleep.”

“No, no, no, no. You’ve got it all wrong, I didn’t-”

“She just told me everything right there, Calum!"I boomed, pointing at the phone.

"Baby, I swear that I love you and only you. I haven’t had sex with anyone other than you since we’ve been together. You’ve got to believe me!”

“It’s kind of hard to believe you when your ex text you saying she misses the way you feel inside of her.” I laughed coldly, making my way upstairs with Calum on my trail.

“I didn’t cheat, Kaitlyn!”

“Yeah, sure.” I rolled my eyes, pulling out a duffel bag and began packing clothes.

“Why are you packing?”

“I’m going to stay at Luke’s for a week or two.”

“You’re not staying with Luke.” He glared at me and I rolled my eyes once again.

“And why not? You’re out fucking your ex, so why can’t I stay with Luke for a week. Maybe I’ll fuck my best friend.”

“You wouldn’t.” His fist were not clenched and his whole body was tensed.

“I would. Plus he looks like a good fuck, so why not? It wouldn’t make me the only unfaithful one in this relationship.” I grabbed my mac book and charger, placing it on top and made my way towards the door. Calum grabbed my bag off of my shoulder and tossed it on the bed.

“I didn’t fucking cheat on you, okay?!”

“Give me my bag.” I tried to get to it, but Calum would only hold me back from the bed.

“No, because you’re not leaving without me explaining what happened.”

“I don’t want to hear-” I suddenly pushed and pinned against the wall. Calum’s face was read with anger, but I could see fear in his chocolate orbs.

“I didn’t cheat on you, Kaitie. I did go out to Michael’s house with the boys that night because he had written a few lyrics and needed help. I went to the pizza place to bring and pizza and I saw Amber. She tried to chat me up and get me to come to her house, but I didn’t. Even though she was being really flirty and basically trying to pull my dick out in the pizza parlor, all I could think about was you. So no, I didn’t cheat but it seems that way.” He finished his explanation and I could tell that he was telling the truth based on his heartbeat and the look in his eyes.

“For the love of- still don’t believe me?! Fine, let’s call Michael!” He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“No, Calum! I believe you!” You sighed and his face softened. He saw my eyes become glossy and opened his arms to me, which I gladly ran into. “I’m so sorry! I’m the worst girlfriend ever.”

“No, you’re the best girlfriend ever. It’s okay. I understand.”

“But I accused you of cheating.”

“It did look that way, Kaitlyn. I don’t trust me?”

“I do, but you’re Calum Hood and I’m just me. So when your gorgeous,tall, model of an ex girlfriend texted you I thought finally realised-”

“You’re prettier than her, Kaitlyn. You’re everything I wanted, not her.”

“But Cal-”

“Like I said earlier. You’re the only girl that I love, and definitely the only one I want to fuck.”

“Way to ruin it.” I laughed lightly.

“There’s the smile I want to see.”

The doorbell rung, signaling that these pizza was now here.

“Now, let’s go continue our movie marathon.”

“I love you, Calum.” I hugged him tightly.

“Love you too, princess.” He kissed my forehead and jogged downstairs to get the pizza.

[Part two of is here by popular demand, and by that I mean I’ve gotten two requests for a part two from @limonixm and @little-miss-dead-inside hopefully it meets everyone’s expectations. WARNING: CONTENT AHEAD INCLUDES MILD BDSM, THE USE OF SEX TOYS, AND IF THAT ISN’T SELF EXPLANATORY ENOUGH, SEXUAL CONTENT. (Requests are always open. Also feel free to message me with requests, comments on the fics, or even just to chat. xoxo, Doc][P.S THIS WILL BE PART TWO OF THREE]

           I had followed him down the tinted glass staircase and out of the club. One of his men, the one who had held a gun to my head, the real cool-cat with his two thousand dollar aviators on and his grey four thousand dollar suit was waiting for us. He was standing by a purple Infiniti G35 with a Vaydor all stoic and patient like a good little bodyguard. Focusing on the car it was a beauty to say the least and only served to impress me further. He had made quite the empire for himself.
           He didn’t say a word; he simply tossed Mr J his keys and walked off to wherever he goes when he is not minding his boss. 
           “Okay, honey. Hop in.” He said and I almost hesitated, almost.
           Sliding into the car my skin felt sensitive and warm against the rich leather interior. Being in the club with him had been different; it felt like more of a level playing field. However, being in such close proximity to him now in the confines of his car, I began to sweat just a little. I could still hear his husky growl telling me that he had a few toys of his own awaiting us, awaiting me, and the anticipation was almost too much to bear. I wanted to touch him.
           As if reading my mind, he tisked me, “Patience, doll, no touching.” 
           Patience has never been my strong suit but I sat still, trying to focus on something else. I felt his hand on my thigh and I stiffened, looking over to him but his eyes were on the road. 
           “I thought you said no touching,” 
           He grinned, “I don’t want you to touch me, not yet anyway.” 
           “That hardly seems fai-” My breath caught in my throat when his hand moved between my thighs. 
           “If you wanted fair,” He growled, his fingers slipping past my lips and I dug my nails into the seat. “You got into the wrong car, Y/N.” 
           I let out a shaky breath, trying to keep myself together as his fingers, dear god those long slender fingers stroked me and I instinctively moved my hips. He was purring, the sound danced across my skin and a small moan escaped me.
           “That’s right, baby.” 
           It felt so good, so mind numbing-ly good that I moved my hand down to cover his and he stopped, leaving me so hot and bothered I wanted to hit him. 
           “You broke the rules, Y/N.” He retracted his hand. 
           “Please,” I was not one to beg, a woman in my position of power never begs, but in situations like these it was okay for your pride to take the back seat. 
           His eyes darkened, narrowing a fraction as he smiled. “What was that?”
           “Please, please don’t stop.”
           “Please what?” He asked in a low, guttural tone that made me squirm.
           “Please, sir.”
           Without a word his fingers were back and I braced a hand on the roof of the car, my brows furrowing as his fingers began to move at a painfully slow pace. It kept building making me twitch and moan, I could feel my blood burning within me and in an instant I was gone. I was a trembling, warm, gasping little mess beside him for a few minutes until the car came to a stop. Needing to, I grasped the back of his neck, kissing him, and he made a noise in the back of his throat that only fuelled my desire. Gripping my hair he pulled me away slightly.
           “I’ll let you have that one Y/N, but when we go upstairs you’re going to be good for me aren’t you?” He asked, running his fingers across my lips and I licked them afterwards instinctively, tasting myself.
           His grip in my hair tightened a fraction. 
           “Yes, sir.” I corrected myself. 
           “Let’s have some fun.”


           I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and tried my best to suppress a bubble of laughter. Red lipstick was smeared across the lower half of my face, and my hair was falling out of its updo. I did my best to clean myself up, letting my hair down so it fell to my lower back. I let my dress fall around my ankles so I stood in my black lace lingerie. I was about to leave when I saw the gold tube of lipstick on the counter. 
           Red looks good on you, I remembered him saying before we had left the club. What the hell, why not.
           Exiting the bathroom the light went off by itself leaving me shrouded in darkness. I couldn’t see anything, and I walked forward a few paces before I felt a hand slide down my arm. 
           “What’re you gonna do, Mister J?”
           His hands gripped my wrists quite suddenly and I felt silk slide across my skin as he bound my hands behind my back. He vanished then, like a ghost in the night and I blinked a few times as he turned the lights up so there was a dim glow about the room. His shirt was gone, the pale expanse of his muscled chest exposed and his pants rode low on his hips. 
           “Well, what do we have here?” He purred, gesturing with an index finger for me to walk forward and I did so.
           “Look at you Y/N, you’re so…. delicious.” I felt his breath on my neck as he leaned in close and my knees felt weak. 
           “You’re almost good enough to eat,” his teeth grazed the sensitive flesh where my neck met my shoulder and my breath hitched. 
           “Do you want this?”
           “Yes, sir.” I whispered.
           “Good girl, now go on over to the bed and bend over

[I am a jerk, I know. How dare I end it here. I am making this part two of three so you dolls will get the rest sometime before the week is out. Xoxo, Doc]

fortress-mind  asked:

Hey! Would it be possible to have (11) "You can always wake me up" with Nurseydex? Thanks! I hope all is well on your end, hopefully this prompt is fun for you!

I didn’t forget about this, I swear!

Let’s just pretend that there’s an easy place to rent a car at one o'clock in the morning in New Haven. Pretend the car rental places at the airport stay open that long for late flights (because some places do, just nothing at Tweed is telling me so)


11.“You can always wake me up…”

Nursey opened his eyes to find Dex pacing around their dark hotel room. “Hey…?”

“Shit, sorry. Did I wake you?”

“You can always wake me up…” Nursey forced his drowsy body upright. “What’s wrong?”

“My brother… He, uh… Something happened at work and he’s injured.”

That woke Nursey up completely. “Shit. How bad?”

“I don’t know yet. He’s in surgery, and–” The words caught in Dex’s throat as he choked back a sob. “Fuck! I’m sorry, I can’t talk.”

“Hey, hey, no! Don’t apologize!” Nursey tossed off his covers and rushed to his teammate’s side. Any injury that required immediate surgery had to be relatively serious. The fact that Dex did not shrug him off or push him away when Nursey hugged him told him how worried he really was.

Dex rested his forehead on Nursey’s shoulder. “I’m so worried, I can’t even think of sleeping right now. Stuck in this fucking hotel on a roadie now of all times… I just want to go home.”

Nursey rubbed his back. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“It’s 1am and we’re in Connecticut. What’s your plan, Nurse? Steal the team bus?”

“I’ll rent a car.”

“You’re only 20 – you can’t.”

“No, it’s fine. If you’re under 25 they just slap you with a couple extra charges, no big deal.”

“What? No, I can’t let you just–”

Nursey interrupted him mid-protest. “Shut up, Poindexter. We’re going, end of story. Go tell someone the situation so that the coaches know where we are and meet me in the lobby. I’ll talk to the front desk about finding a rental car. We’ll be in Portland in four hours, tops.”



(More under the cut)

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Three Christmas Eves

(This will be the last Omelia fic that I will tag as #summer dreaming. I write these to survive emotions unlike anything I had ever experienced before. Each one holds a piece of me, so when I fall apart I collect myself here. I didn’t expect that hundreds of people would come to care about my stories. I’m grateful to this fandom for finding a gift in them and for helping me find it in myself. Cheers to Season 12.)

People speak of magic as if it is a thing that doesn’t happen every day – something reserved for unique circumstances and special occasions. Sometimes magic is just getting out of bed in the morning. It’s that thing that happens when you say, “I can’t do this,” yet somehow you already are – doing it. Reaching into nothing and pulling out something. Filling emptiness. Finding love in the dark. Magic is that thing that lives inside you - in that place that some people call your heart and others call your soul. Science calls it your mind and explains it away in biochemical reactions but acknowledges there is mystery there that defies explanation.

The first year

“I never felt magic crazy as this…”

The house spoke often in December. Its creaks were louder, and its taps were more insistent. It liked telling secrets in the cold, and Owen enjoyed hearing them, especially when he was there alone. The roses in the yard were sleeping, and so the air had changed. The house held the fragrance of loneliness – except when Amelia was there with him. Then it smelled of strawberries and vanilla - and her. Owen wanted it like that all the time, but he knew Meredith and the kids needed her too.

He’d never spent much time at home in December. Seattle was darker and colder, with even more rain than the other months. People were often stressed or sad or both. All of this made December the busiest month of the year in the ER, leaving Owen little time to think about other things - like Christmas. He’d never changed his other homes much at Christmastime. He liked the lights, the way they soften the darkness, so he’d usually put up a strand or two. But this year he wanted to take a little more time - to change the air.


“…Come with me,” he caught Amelia as her shift was ending and slipped his fingers between hers, “Help me choose.”

She smiled. “You want us to go find a Christmas tree on Christmas Eve? You’re crazy.”

He moved his thumb gently across her wrist and leaned in close enough to smell her skin – strawberries and vanilla. “So let’s be crazy,” he whispered.

His caress was warm and insistent, and his mouth was so close. If she moved a few inches they would be kissing, but she waited. If she didn’t go with him now, she’d have to stop touching him. And she wasn’t ready for that yet.

“Okay.” She squeezed his hand. “Let’s be crazy.”


The sun had set early, as it does in winter, so they drove through the twilight. Owen kept one hand on the steering wheel and held Amelia’s with the other. She watched his face in the lights of the highway and in the shadows. He watched the road, but he could feel her eyes on him. He liked the feeling, and he’d never get over the way he liked it. He watched the road, but he could see her anyway. He had all the sensations of her memorized now. Her hand was soft in his and her fingers so fine. Perfect instruments for her work, and he loved the way they played over his skin. The feeling of her hand was part of him now.

“Why are we doing this?” she wondered.

He knew she was asking about the tree, but he thought about her hand in his.

He told the truth, “Because I want everything with you.”

Amelia leaned into his arm. She rested her other hand there in the bend. She wanted everything too – everything she was ready for and everything she wasn’t. She wanted to know more about what everything would be like.

“Did you grow up with the tradition of a Christmas tree?” she asked.

“We had them when my dad was alive. I was very young, but I have memories. Sometimes we would go into the National Forest to cut one down. I don’t think we even needed a permit back then. If the search got really long my dad would carry me on his shoulders for a while. I don’t remember being too tired to walk. I just liked seeing the world that way.”

Amelia held his arm tighter. She remembered her dad’s shoulders too. It was just a faint memory, but it became brighter when Owen spoke of his own. He had this way of making her recall the things that she no longer wanted to forget. He was bringing back pieces of her life that she had shoved down deep inside and run from because they had been too much to face alone. But she wasn’t alone anymore.

“How about you?” he asked her, “Did you ever have a Christmas tree when you were a kid?”

“That can be tricky in a New York City apartment,” she said, “We never had much money to spare, and we never followed any particular religion, even before my father was killed. But the Sloans were big on the trappings of Christmas, and Derek and Mark brought a tree home once. They were about 12 years old and scrawny kids. That tree probably weighed 50 pounds. I remember laughing at the sight of them carrying that thing up all those flights of stairs. I asked where they got it, and they told me to mind my own business. Once they brought it into the apartment, they realized they had no way to stand it up. So I laughed some more, which pissed them off again. Derek remembered some big bucket in the alley, and they went to fill it up with dirt from Central Park. They finally got the tree set up in the bucket of dirt and decorated it with a strand of lights that Mark had brought in his backpack. Then they waited in the front room until Mom got off her shift. They turned off all the lights except for the ones on the tree. And I’ll never forget the look on Carolyn’s face when she stepped in that room. …Have you ever noticed how Christmas lights make everything softer?”

Owen squeezed her hand, thinking of all the things she just understood.

Amelia continued, “Thank goodness for those lights softening her expression because otherwise it would have scared the shit out of Derek and Mark. She stood there in dead silence, squinting her eyes at the tree in the bucket and the dirt and needles and sap all over the floor. The boys had tried to clean up, but they hadn’t expected the sap and weren’t sure how to clean it. Mom was probably thinking of the extra work and wondering where they had found that tree. Then all of a sudden she took this deep breath, big enough that we could all hear it, and the Christmas lights reflected off of a tear that fell down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, but I saw it. I think we all did.

‘Well,’ Carolyn said, ‘Isn’t this a surprise? Look at what my boys have done.’

‘It’s your present,’ Derek told her.

I don’t remember how the conversation went after that, but I remember Mom hugged us, which she rarely did then. And I remember Derek and Mark washing the floor with scrub brushes and soapy water. Derek had to use part of his allowance to buy a new bucket for our neighbor who had put hers out in the alley to dry. And Mark paid for half. Where the tree had come from remained a mystery. My guess is that Central Park had one less fir tree that year, but I could never find the stump. And now we’ll never know for sure…” Amelia’s voice trailed off thinking of the stories that Derek and Mark would never be able to tell.

“Sometimes the mystery is sweeter than the explanation would be,” Owen said, “Sometimes it’s nice to keep it that way, even when you have the choice to know.”

Amelia rested her head on his shoulder, thinking of all the things he just understood.


Owen knew there were still trees on the hardware store lot when he’d driven past it this morning. They were practically giving them away now under the flood lamps. As it turned out, the choice was easy. They picked one of the few that still held its needles.

Getting the tree home and set up was a much smoother experience than the one Derek and Mark had all those years ago. Owen and Amelia remembered to buy a tree stand, for one thing, so the neighbors’ buckets were safe. They also bought a few strands of lights and a box of silver ball ornaments.

They ordered Chinese food, and had a picnic on the floor beside the Christmas tree. They saved the cookies until the end.

“What’s your fortune?” Owen asked.

Amelia broke open her cookie and took out the tiny slip of paper. She read it quietly to herself and then set it on the floor between them. She raised her eyes to his, “You will get what your heart desires,” she said, and for a moment he wasn’t sure if she meant her or him.

“It’s a good one.” He decided it was for her. “So what does your heart desire?”

Amelia kept her eyes on his for as long as she could stand it. Then she looked up at the tree as she answered, “A thousand things.”

Owen couldn’t take his eyes off of her, “Tell me one.”

Her smile widened, and it was his heart’s desire to kiss the dimple on her cheek, but he waited for her answer.

She looked at him again, “My heart wants to know your fortune.”

“Okay,” he chuckled as he opened his cookie and read the paper, “Anything is possible when you own many rubber stamps.”

Amelia started to laugh.

“What the hell kind of fortune is that?” he said.

“Maybe Santa will bring you rubber stamps tonight.” Her laughter eased. “Until then, you can share my fortune.”

“So will I get what my heart desires?” he asked her.

She looked into his eyes again until it hurt. And this time she let it hurt. “Yes, you will.”

His breath caught in his throat, and then he breathed out slowly, “Well then, if Confucius insists…”

Owen moved their empty cartons to the side and lay back on their picnic blanket with his head right next to the tree stand. The lowest branches of the tree were almost touching his forehead.

“…Come here,” he said, “I want to show you.”

She lay down beside him and looked up. She watched the lights reflecting off the branches and the silver balls. The fragrance of the fir tree filled her head. She pinched off one of the needles and put it between her teeth. It tasted like lemons and oranges and the fragrance of the woods where they used to live.

“It tastes like you,” she told him.

Owen rolled on his side so he was facing her now, watching the colors reflect off of her skin. “I taste like Christmas?”

She faced him now too. “Yes. I can show you,” she said.

He felt her hand touch his chest, and he tasted the faint flavor of citrus as she kissed him. Strawberries and vanilla mixed with evergreen, and Owen was intoxicated without having touched a drop of alcohol. He pulled her as close as he could and rested his hand on the small of her back.

Amelia heard his breathing and the sound of her own heart beating in her ears. Everything else was silent.

“The house is quiet tonight,” she murmured as her fingers worked their way down the buttons of his shirt.

“It’s happy,” Owen whispered against her cheek.

“Tell me why,” she said, unfastening - opening.

“Because you’re here. Because the air is changed.” He kissed along her jaw.

She pressed against his bare chest. “I don’t want to leave tonight.”

“Then stay.” He moved his hand up the length of her spine and nestled it at the nape of her neck beneath her hair.

She stroked the skin over his heart with her thumb. “Then I won’t want to leave in the morning,” she said.

She was so warm. He knew what he wanted. And he knew what to say next. Their fortune had told him. He took a deep breath before he said it and looked in her eyes so she’d know he meant it.

“…Then stay forever.” He watched his words light her up like starlight on the ocean. If she was afraid, he couldn’t tell.

She answered simply, “Okay.”

“Amelia, I’m serious,” he said, holding her with his eyes.

“Owen… so am I.”

“…I never saw moons knew the meaning of the sea…”

The second year

“…I never held emotion in the palm of my hand…”

The house looked over a small cottonwood tree in the yard. It could be seen through the picture window in the family room. 20 days ago it still had most of its leaves. They were yellow and bright. Amelia had sat in the rocking chair and watched each one turn brown and let go. The tree was bare now, lifeless.

Her heart felt like that – or her soul – whatever it was that used to feel golden and now felt nothing.

She looked down at the tiny baby at her breast. Amelia had all the sensations of her memorized now – the downy softness of her hair, the gentle tug as she suckled, the press of her eyelashes to her cheeks, the blue when her lids would open, revealing Amelia’s own eyes beneath.  The feeling of her baby at her breast was part of her now – as much as Sara had been part of her when she fluttered in her womb. Amelia felt nothing inside now.

The sun would be setting soon, and then twilight would follow. The calendar said it was Christmas Eve. But day and night didn’t really matter anymore. Amelia was always awake in the same darkness. Sometimes she could see the cottonwood tree and sometimes the window was black. That was the only thing that marked day and night. That was the only difference.

Amelia rocked back and forth. She liked the way the chair and the house spoke to one another in soft creaks. She didn’t know whether or not Sara found it soothing to rock and listen, but Amelia liked it. Feeling things on the outside helped her move through the numbness within. Consciously she knew this was temporary. She knew she would move through it. She just didn’t know how yet, beyond time.

Time was a stranger these days. He moved slowly, and she waited for him. Each minute felt like an hour. Each hour felt like a day. Each day felt like a year. Sara was born 20 days ago, and Amelia felt in her 50’s now. She hoped time would pick up his pace soon – before she was dead. Well-meaning people would say things like, “Enjoy this time with your baby. It goes by so fast.” And Amelia wondered who the hell they were talking about. Surely not HER time. For a while there, her time had been a friend who held her hand as she moved through feeling. Only now she felt nothing. Who would hold her hand through this?


Owen would. He always did. He already was. He knew her so well. He knew she was struggling. He just didn’t know how bad it was. Because Amelia was good at faking. And when he was here, she didn’t have to fake so much. Because she felt alive then. A little bit. Enough to get by.

He had bought them a Christmas tree again this year. He had picked it out alone. Sara nursed too frequently for her to go anywhere in these first weeks, and Amelia was bleeding still and could hardly ever sleep. Everything felt so raw and sharp. Amelia thought about how Christmas lights softened the darkness. She wondered if they would work to soften the darkness that was inside her too.

She stood up from the chair with Sara still at her breast and went over to plug in the lights on the tree. Then she came back to the chair to rock some more and hope for the lights to work their magic.


Owen arrived home at sunset. Since Sara was born, he had been trying to work mostly half-day shifts in the ER. But trauma surgery was always so unpredictable. Some days were very long, and sometimes the days ran into night. He knew Amelia needed him, and he wanted to be home. It’s all he wanted, and that’s how he knew he was away too often. Balance with a newborn was elusive.

He stepped into the fragrance of evergreen and saw his girls asleep in the rocking chair. He approached them quietly and knelt on the floor. Sara’s tiny mouth had fallen away from Amelia’s breast, and his little girl was still making sucking motions in her sleep. Owen lightly touched the back of her onesie and kissed her cheek in the place he knew there was a dimple like her mom’s. She smelled of sweetness - vanilla and milk - and felt so warm in Amelia’s arms, and he wanted to be in there too.

“Merry Christmas, princess,” he whispered, not wanting to wake her.

Owen lay back on the floor and watched Amelia sleep. Her skin glowed golden in the light of the tree and the setting sun. Shadows below her eyes showed the strain of sleepless nights and something more that he didn’t yet understand. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail that was falling out on one side. It fell softly against her neck and over her shoulder to the top of her breast, which was bare because she had fallen asleep nursing. She was so beautiful.

“I love you,” he whispered, not wanting to wake her either.

She and Sara were everything his heart desired, and he just wanted to keep watching them. But his eyes closed without awareness, and he fell asleep there in the sunset.


Amelia woke a short time later to the sound of a bird singing. She saw Owen lying near her feet, still dressed in his clothes from the day. He was so strong, even in sleep. At the sight of him, she felt life creep into her. Just a bit of life. Enough to keep going.

“I love you,” she whispered, not wanting to wake him.

She glanced out the window into the start of twilight and found the voice there in shadows at the top of the cottonwood tree. Sara’s eyes opened. She was listening too.

“Do you hear that bird, sweetheart?” Amelia whispered to the baby, “Her song is beautiful - like you. I imagine that’s what hope sounds like.”

Emily Dickenson wrote, ‘Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all.’

Amelia watched the bird fly away. It swooped down over the yard, and then returned to the tree. The bird did this a dozen times, and it always returned. The tree wasn’t lifeless after all. It was a perch for hope.

“…Or felt sweet breezes in the top of a tree…”


The third year

“…But now you’re here…”

The house held the fragrance of cookies. Owen had baked them as a drizzle of rain danced on the roof. The house had a different sound for each kind of rain, in the same way that the beat of a drum depends on the drummer. Tonight the drummer was calm, and the air was unusually cold. Weather like this could lead to icy roads. Owen knew that would fill the ER. He and Amelia weren’t on call, but they could be needed regardless if an accident was big enough. He hoped people would drive safely now and stay off the roads later. Though that would be a tall order on Christmas Eve. For now he was warm inside, and he would hold onto this feeling for as long as he could.

Amelia took a cookie from the counter and broke it open while it was still warm.

“Hey!” he hollered, “Those are for Santa.”

Amelia smiled, “Are you sure you want to start that tradition?”

“Who besides Santa would bring those rubber stamps that make anything possible?” He winked at her. “Besides, how many years do any of us get to believe in magic? I think we should make the most of them.”

Amelia couldn’t say no to that logic. “I’m in - as long as I get to eat this cookie.”

“Santa says yes.”

Owen kissed the top of Sara’s head as she sat in his lap. Her auburn hair curled softly around her ears. It was slightly damp still from her bath. She smelled like baby shampoo and the sweetness that was uniquely her. She wore footed pajamas and played quietly on the floor.

“Ball!” she said, pointing at one of the ornaments high on the Christmas tree.

Sara had new words every day. For a while Amelia had taken to writing each one on a calendar, but there were so many now that it was impossible to keep track.

“That’s right, princess,” Owen said, “Do you want to see the ball up close?”

Sara gave him an inquisitive look that he took to mean yes. He lifted her up and placed her on his shoulders. He held her there with one hand around her back and his other around her feet. Then he stood up beside the tree.

“Ar!” Sara said next, pointing at the top.

“Yep. That’s a star,” he told her. Then he turned to Amelia, “If she says that tomorrow, Karev will tell her that she sounds like a pirate.”

“Then we’ll have to gag Uncle Alex …and make him walk the plank.” It was Amelia’s turn to wink. She moved over to the rocking chair to sit beside them. “Sara, are you ready for story time?”

Sara pointed at the book that laid on the floor next to her blanket.

Owen lifted her down and sat next to the tree. The book was almost as big as her. He set her on his lap, holding the book in front of them. The title on the cover read, ‘Dream Snow’.

Sara turned the first page, and Owen began.

On a small farm there lived a farmer. He had only a few animals. He could count them on the fingers of one hand. So the farmer named his animals One, Two, Three, Four and Five. By the end of the barn stood a small tree. The farmer named it Tree. “Hello Tree,” he would say when he passed it…”

As Owen read on, Sara babbled about each of the animals as she covered and uncovered the pictures of them with their snowy blankets. Owen and Amelia smiled when she called the rooster, “Duck!”

“…The farmer woke up from his dreams, looked out of his window and saw snow. It was not dream snow. It was real snow. It had snowed while he had napped. Now the snow clouds had moved away. The moon and stars sparkled in the wintery night sky. One, Two, Three, Four, and Five were safe and fast asleep…”

Sara turned the page again. There the illustrations showed the farmer putting on his coat, boots, hat, gloves, and sack. “Santa!” Sara said.

“Well, I guess that settles it then,” Amelia noted.

“…One, Two, Three, Four, and Five watched as he decorated Tree. Then he shouted, Merry Christmas to all! And pushed the button.”

Sara pushed the button and giggled when she heard the chime. Each time the book chimed, she laughed again. Her laughter was the sweetest sound to ever ring through the house.

Eventually Sara grew tired of the chime, picked up her blanket, and rubbed her eyes. She looked at Amelia while making her old baby sign for milk. Owen lifted her to her mom’s arms. Amelia nursed her, and Sara’s eyelids started to close.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Amelia kissed her forehead, and Sara gave her one last glimpse of blue before her eyes fell shut. Amelia glanced out the picture window. The porch light shined faintly on the yard, and she could see snowflakes collecting on the branches of the cottonwood tree.

“It’s snowing,” she whispered. A tear fell down her cheek, and Owen watched her wipe it away.

He knelt on the floor beside her. He ran his fingertips gently across her forehead and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. She closed her eyes as he did it. The feeling of this was part of her now. She knew it like she knew the sound of his voice. Like she knew how he would kiss her.  

“Snow is rare in Seattle,” he said softly, “It’s almost like magic.”

He kissed her then.

He kissed her as the Christmas lights softened the darkness.

He kissed her as their baby slept in her arms.

He kissed her as snow fell from the sky.

He kissed her as the house grew still, holding its secrets until morning.

“…Brighten my northern sky.”

Safety of A Cam Girl

by filmbuf_f

My name is Rochelle and I used to be a cam girl.

I started when I was 19 and was unable to get a job anywhere, and as I was starting my first year at Uni that year, I needed something to help pay the fees.

The money was good, and there were a lot of guide lines and restrictions that kept the girls that performed safe. Plus, I had always thought it was better than having to work in some shitty retail job.

Keep reading

Did You Hear That Los Angeles?!

Can I have an imagine with Swazz

I don’t know who this child thinks he is, calling me at 5 in the morning. As good of a boyfriend he is, he should know I don’t like being woken up.

“Bring a jacket, I’m outside.” All he told me. God I hope this dude has a good reason for waking me up.

I slid on a jacket, with my phone and key in the pocket, and a pair of sneakers and walked to my front door, opening it up to see a smiling John leaning out of his car.

“Come on! We’re on a schedule, princess.” His cheeky grin made me hesitate getting in the car, but I did so anyway. John’s such a harmless being that I couldn’t be scared of him.

He pulls out of my driveway and I lean my head on the window, trying to salvage the sleep he took from me. He was determined to keep me awake, grabbing my thigh and blasting music that he knew I loved.

“Okay! What do you want John?” I groan, turning down the music.

“We’re almost there! Calm down.” He stops the car, and we get out.

“Come on,” he holds his hand out, and I take it. We start to walk up a hill, and the closer we get to the top, the more the sun starts to rise.

His smile widens when he gets to the top, turning to look at me. The scene was absolutely breathtaking.

There were Cherry Blossoms everywhere, and their petals were gracefully falling all around us. There’s something spelt out in the petals near the edge of the clearing, and I walk towards it.

‘Marry me?’ It read, and my breath gets caught in my throat. Unable to speak, I turn around.

There he was, on one knee, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Will you, (Y/N Y/L/N), marry me?” He asks again, and I nearly break down in tears.

“Yes! A thousand times yes!” He stands up, sliding the ring on my finger, kissing me sweetly.

“You don’t know how long this took me to set up.”

“It was so worth it, baby.”

“She said yes!” He shouts, “Did you hear that Los Angeles? I’m getting married to the love of the life and my best friend!” I smile, my love for this goofball growing by the second.

“I think the entire state of California heard that.” He looks at me, eyes filled with wonder and excitement.

“Do you really think so?” He genuinely asks, his grin widening in delight when I nod.

“Come on! We gotta tell the guys!” He runs past me, grabbing my arm to drag me with him.

you told me when you were twelve, you got your appendix out
you lifted your shirt and showed me a faded scar above your hip
i ran my fingers along the marred skin
and you laughed and said it tickled
acting like missing a piece of you felt like nothing

you were my missing piece
i only felt whole when we were together
when you breathed, so did i
i felt certain even our hearts beat the same
so i bared my soul and gave away pieces of me to you

when you said you were leaving you promised
we’d meet again, and everything would be the same
but how long has it been since then?
hours, days, years—time is fluid when it spills through my fingers
because my hands are small and you aren’t here to hold them

you were my missing piece
but this time, you stayed missing
you felt like a car crash in my ribs
shards of metal and glass stuck in my soul
while i breathed smoke in my apartment, alone

i got drunk on a miasma of grief
and burned my throat with memories
i looked for anything that reminded me of you
i did anything to bring you back to me
and the memory of you just

occupied the space between my heart and my brain
but just last week i caught a glimpse of you on the train we used to take
with a new lover on your arm and dimples on your cheeks
you showed her the appendix scar above your hip
and when she touched it, i could read your lips
when you laughed and said it tickled
i felt numb

now the space between my heart and my brain
has a sign that says ‘vacancy’
because although you were my missing piece
i guess i wasn’t yours
Great British Bake Off: Mel and Sue to quit as hosts - BBC News
Sue Perkins and Mel Giedroyc will step down as hosts of The Great British Bake Off.

I’m not gonna lie, my breath caught in my throat when I read this. But I’m not surprised… and I’m proud of them for sticking up for the BBC like this. I wouldn’t be surprised if Paul and Mary follow suit - they’ve said in the past that the four of them are a package deal.

I really hope this makes Love Productions reconsider. PLEASE reconsider. PLEEEEAAASSSSEEE. 

anonymous asked:

Hey! So I would like to request an overprotective Steve imagine. Where you're like Natasha and you need to go on a solo mission but he doesn't want you too. Thank you :)!


Of course my love! Sorry if its been a bit delayed, I’ve just been really stressed out with issues at home and I’ve been trying to get writing back into my daily life. Hope you like it. 

‘Here is your file Agent Y/L/N, you will need to get suited up as soon as possible otherwise the team will leave you behind.’

‘Yes sir,’ I said, saluting the General before making my back to the Tower to get changed. I was an agent of Shield and I was ranked as one of the most risk taking and strongest fighters, who was a woman. 

Black Widow even had critiqued me for my work, saying that I could even join the Avengers one day. But I think that position belonged to my boyfriend, Captain America, also know as Steve Rodgers. 

Yes, I was dating THE Captain America! It was sometimes annoying have lunch in the cafeteria with Steve and having everyone watch us with jaws that hit the ground. 

But it was all worth it to be with such a beautiful, kind and caring man as Steve. 

I went through my file as I got dressed, reading the mission when my breath caught in my throat. 

This mission was going to be a tough one, one where we had to infiltrate one of Hydra’s biggest hideouts and largest armies, AND get rid of the nuclear bombs and weapons they had created AND save hostages that had been taken. 

I sighed heavily before getting dressed into my SHIELD uniform, zipping it up just to my collar bones, pushing the necklace down my jacket quickly that my past Father had given to me as a given for joining SHIELD. 

Just as I tied up the laces of my boots tightly and stood up, the door of my room was bashed. Instantly I pulled out my gun to the door, only to reveal a gasping, sweaty Steve who was huffing for breath, 

‘You can’t go on this mission Y/N!’ He said as he stood before the door, stopping me from exiting. ‘Look who’s talking now …’ I said as I pulled my leather gloves on quickly. 

‘Look, I know that you have been on so many missions, but this is crazy! Absolutely crazy for an agent like you, you don’t know how bad it is-’

‘How bad it is?! Steve I watched my Mother be murdered before my eyes along with my younger brother! I watched Hydra murder my Father in cold blood! I’ve seen far worst than anyone has!’ I said angrily as I grabbed my weapons. 

‘Y/N you know what I mean. I don’t want you to go out there not knowing that you will make it out!’

‘Well now you know how it feels, don’t you? How it feels to be me! To have to wait for my boyfriend Captain America to return home to me! To watch the news into the early hours of the morning, not knowing if you were okay and not know if your going to walk through the door of the apartment.’

Steve lightened up, gasping at my words. I sighed heavily, grabbing my file before looking up at him, ‘I need to do this mission. Not for myself, but to save those hostages, please just let me by.’

He looked down at me sadly before shaking his head, moving away so I could walk by. As I walked down the corridor, I sighed heavily. 

I didn’t want to end the fight like this, not knowing if I was the one who would be coming home this time. I just needed to tell him how it feels to be in such a business where you don’t know when your going to make it. 

Just before I reached the end of the corridor that led to the flight deck, I heard a cry echo through the corridor feebly. ‘Y/N!’

I turned only to be enveloped in a great hug, Steve tucking his head into my neck quickly, ‘I’m sorry about what happened … I just-I just don’t want to lose you like I’ve lost so many. I know how hard it is to be who we are and what we work as … I just don’t want to lose you-’

‘Shhhhh-Its okay!’ I say as I pull away and place a kiss on his lips, feeling his arms tangle around my waist quickly as I pulled him extremely close to my body, cupping his face as we kissed passionately. 

‘AGENT Y/L/N! GET ON IT!’ I heard one of the other agents scream to me, making me pull away slowly. ‘I have to go …’ I say softly to him, pushing the tears from his eyes, ‘I’ll wait for you. Just make sure you don’t make any stupid decisions.’

I smile, kissing him again before making my way towards the plane, knowing that I will have something worth fighting for that will be waiting for me.