no she's not offering her a joint

Not Going Anywhere

Woo, my first fanfic for this fandom! You get some Galra!Keith, the Power of Friendship™ and Lance actually acting like a Mature Adult, who’d ever have guessed it?

(Also, just for the record: my Pidge is genderfluid and uses mostly they/them/their pronouns! It’s not important, but I felt like I should say it.)

Edit: NOW WITH AMAZING FANART FROM @catnippackets!!!! 

It’s Pidge that first mentions it, piping up about something none of them have had the courage to voice yet.

“He’s not coming out, is he?”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

prompt if you have time: regina finds it really hard to ask for things, but what she really wants is emma to hold her. she's usually the big spoon, but wants to be the little spoon. non-sexual touching specifically.

thank you for the prompt! this …hopefully fulfills what u want, i ended up going somewhere else i’m sorry!

- the one where emma and regina are actually married idiots

it’s late when emma gets home, already well after midnight. regina can hear her key in the door, the soft sigh she lets out as she steps inside, into the quiet shuffling of her home transition: she’ll be taking off her boots, sliding out of her jacket, hopefully leave her shoes at the door and drop her jacket off somewhere where it won’t just slump over a couch or chair arm (it will). after ten years of marriage, emma has somehow managed to remain completely unburdened by the simple domestic rules regina had enforced when they first started living together, and only grudgingly let slide in the face of such unrelenting forgetfulness.

after a moment, regina can hear her breathing as her wife mounts the wooden stairs, no longer quite as amble now that they have both embarked on the journey of getting old together.

lifting up on an elbow, regina reaches for the bedside lamp and flips it on, knowing emma will attempt to undress for bed in utter darkness if she suspects regina might be sleeping – so, sitting up, she waits for the familiar entrance of her wife, the slightly startled, apologetic look she always gets whenever emma discovers regina waiting for her. (it doesn’t matter how many times it happens, emma still jumps like a nervous cat at the slightest outward sign of devotion).

when emma walks through, regina smiles at her slight jump. “regina,” emma sighs, as she settles herself again. “you know, my shifts are really not as exciting as you think they are. you don’t have to stay up late every time i have a late one.”

regina merely shrugs, and rests her shoulders against their wooden headboard. she knows emma is more in danger (to herself) in the middle of after-school traffic than she is in a late night shift, but sleep never seems to come when she’s alone. she needs emma’s soft, steady breathing, the way she sprawls all over the bed, taking up whatever space she can. it seems so vast and empty without her, like she’s in the middle of nowhere, with only the distracting blink of alarm clocks to track the progress of time.

she doesn’t know how to say that, though (even after all this time). she simply pulls back the covers on emma’s side of the bed and smooths an expectant hand over the soft, empty space.

emma smiles, all soft and warm, as usual. “i’ll be there in a second,” she assures, and starts slipping out of her work jeans, leaving herself in just her socks and bra as she searches for her old ratty sleep clothes. “how was your day?” she asks, reaching for a shirt.

regina gazes down the familiar bumps of her wife’s back and sighs. “oh, it was fine.” it was, in fact, not fine. the town meeting had been exhausting, full of unnecessary, loud caveats, resulting in so many delays, to the point that she had to push back several scheduled meetings, which filled her inbox with passive aggressive emails and a nasty looking schedule tomorrow.

emma gives her a knowing look over the shoulder, and regina sighs. “well other than the hour i spent looking for another curse, just to get these people out of my hair so i can finish my paperwork on time, it was fine.”

“any results?”

“oh you know, none of them really stood out to me. i’ll have to keep looking.”

“well i’ll support you regardless, babe.”

babe. regina smiles. the term of endearment started out merely as an ironic joke for emma, some private way to cope with suddenly having a confirmed True Love and being socially required to spend time with all the other ridiculous fairytale couples around them, and while she suspects emma never intended to use it seriously, at some point in the ten years they’ve been married, it worked itself into emma’s idle mind.

a spasm of tenderness closes in regina’s throat as she watches her wife tiredly crawl into bed, sliding beneath the soft comforter and groaning in exhaustion – regina appears to be taking growing old a little more gracefully than emma, who now constantly dismays over her aching joints and aging hands, the slight greying around her temples. regina has only noticed a slight crinkle around her own eyes and a few silver strands, simple signs of age that emma seems to take great delight in finding.

their life together has been so happy. looking down at her wife, regina suddenly wants only to be held by her.

scooting closer, regina quietly clears her throat. “darling,” she offers, and, after a beat, starts massaging her fingers against emma’s shoulder, to prob emma back from a deep sleep. “are you really already falling asleep?”

“hmm?” emma struggles to blink up at her.

regina offers her a warm smile, starts massaging her shoulder again. “i was just wondering if you wanted to switch things up for tonight,” she says. she enjoys sleeping with emma in her arms (both because she like waking up with emma in hear arms, and also, a little strategically, to avoid getting accidentally kicked out in bed). but usually, she can get emma to go along with her simply by nudging her in the right direction.

most of the time. this time, emma merely groans. “too tired.” she says, and reaches back, in sweet misunderstanding, to gently grip regina’s fingers and give them another squeeze. “we’ll do it another night, babe.”

regina purses her lips. “i wasn’t…” she sighs. “oh nevermind.”

sinking back down into bed, regina slides her arms around emma’s waist, tries to press as much of herself to emma to make up for not being held. letting out a soft breath, she leans her cheek against emma’s neck, closes her eyes against the soft, steady presence of her wife.

until, a few minutes later, emma suddenly slides out of her arms. regina frowns, grapples with her fingers. “hey,’ she complains, rising reluctantly from her half-doze to see where her wife is going.

emma doesn’t go very far. she just slides up onto her knees, crawls over regina’s body, and settles down again, knotting her fingers  beneath regina’s ribs to squeeze her closer, closing all the gaps between their bodies.

blinking back a silly sting of tears, regina hums. “i suspect a lightbulb flipped on.”

emma chuckles, butts her head affectionately against the side of regina’s neck. “you know me,” she whispers sleepily, settling her cheek against regina’s, “it always takes me a few minutes.”

happily, regina  sighs, resting her hands against her wife’s. “I know darling.”

A word on gambling

Hey all, I found the Elsewhere University page like two days ago but man, I was so inspired right away. Please allow me to add to this marvellous universe. 

Some words in advance: 

This story ties into a few others. Nothing but quick mentions, though; @fruedtrollism and @comerunwildwithme you two may catch brief glances of you characters :) It also features the weird humanoid/horseoid skeleton beast from this post

For those who haven’t seen the EU blog yet: Al you need to know is that the setting is a prestigious university set on top of a fairy hill. Have fun reading!

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

hey I don't know if you're taking prompts atm, but if you are could you please write some more nb!alex college au, I love them so much and your writings make me so happy!

(A follow-up to this story: )

“Wanna get outta here?” Maggie asks, chuckling at Alex’s banter with their roommate, but also wanting the full attention of this adorable enby.

And it terrifies her.

Her desire.

Her question.

Terrifies her because the only people she’s kissed have been girls in high school who took her underneath the bleachers to make out, only to tell their boyfriends later that she took advantage of them.

Terrifies her because of Eliza Wilke.

Terrifies her because of her father.

But she’s away, now.

Away, for the first time.

And Alex Danvers? This kid hanging out of their window, undercut and tank top and sleeveless vest and and flattened chest and baggy shorts all but screaming their queerness? Their braveness? 

Maybe Alex Danvers won’t punish her for her desires.

But at her question, Alex almost topples out of their dorm room window.

Maggie catches them by their stomach, and they both pause at the contact. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so – “

“No, no, it’s… it’s just funny, right? Because usually when someone says ‘you wanna get outta here,’ they mean go home or something, but I am home, so you don’t mean go home, right, you mean go away from my home instead of to it, and it’s just…” 

Alex putters like they’ve run out of fuel, and they shrug awkwardly. Adorably. 

Maggie’s never wanted to kiss anyone this badly, and she chastizes herself harshly. She barely knows Alex.

Doesn’t know them at all.

But their rambling is awkward, and it’s earnest, and earnesty isn’t something Maggie comes across a lot.

“Just what, Danvers?” she helps them out, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“It’s just funny,” Alex finishes, starting to blush, and Maggie hears Lucy sighing dramatically at Alex’s lack of chill inside the dorm.

Maggie gulps and she lowers her eyes to Alex’s lips and she looks away as soon as she realizes she’s done it.

“Your room isn’t the only home on this campus,” Maggie says, her voice low, her voice hopeful.

Alex nearly falls again, and Maggie grabs them again.

Alex opens and closes their mouth helplessly.

“But for now, wanna take a walk?” Maggie grins, hopping down from the window and retrieving her backpack and motorcycle helmet from the ground.

Alex takes nearly a full thirty seconds to stammer a yes, and somehow their rambling makes them more attractive to Maggie. More unassuming. More… earnest. More honest. More genuine.

“Uh – yes, just – uh, can you come around the front entrance? I’m sorry, I – “

“Yeah, yeah, it’s cool. Meet you in a minute. Um – nice to meet you, Lucy!” Maggie raises her voice at the end.

“Have them home by midnight, Sawyer! It’s not a huge campus, I can easily find out where you live!”

“Yes ma’am!” Maggie offers a mock salute. Even though she knows Lucy can’t see her from inside, she knows Alex can, and Alex laughs.

She decides she wants to make Alex laugh as much as she can.

“See you on the other side,” she offers up to Alex, and they nod as they scramble backwards off their windowsill, nearly falling in. 

Maggie chuckles to herself once she listens to make sure Alex is okay. She slings her bag over her shoulder and sets off at a jog toward the main entrance of Alex’s dorm.

It takes Alex more than a minute or two to get there.

It occurs to Maggie that they might not come.

That Maggie asking if they wanted to go somewhere – to get outta here – might have been rude to Lucy. Might have been a turn off to Alex.

Because why would someone that attractive want to go anywhere with Maggie anyway? Why would someone that soft want to have anything to do with Maggie, anyway? 

Maybe Alex had only said she could come up and sit on their window to be polite.

They seemed like they were a polite person.

Politeness was good. Nice. 

Good and nice didn’t deserve Maggie Sawyer.

How could she have been so stupid? So overconfident? How could she have been so – 


Her stomach backflips at the slightly breathless sound of Alex’s voice, and she turns.

“You’re a lot taller than me,” is the first thing she says, because she couldn’t really tell when they were sitting on the windowsill together. It’s the first thing she says because the shock of Alex actually standing there in front of her, eager and ready to head out… wherever… is so unbelievable.

Alex grins and straightens, puffing out their chest slightly.

“I uh…”

“You don’t have to actually respond to that, it was a stupid comment.”

“No! It wasn’t stupid, I… um… I’m sorry I made you wait. I’m uh…” They glance around and take a deep breath, but Maggie had used their pronouns without hesitation and without any reluctance, and she still wanted to go out with them – go out? were they going out? did this count as going out? – and it feels so good to still, maybe, be wanted, and they want to talk, to share, so badly… “I’m not used to my uh… to my binder yet, it’s uh… I’m still not used to things like uh… hopping out of windows and stuff.”

Maggie grins and nods, giving Alex another once-over with her eyes. “Well, it’s good self-care: you’re not supposed to be all breathless with them on anyway, right?”

“Gonna be hard to be around you while I wear it then,” Alex blurts out softly without thinking, without considering, and Maggie’s breath hitches, and Alex’s face flushes.

“I’m sorry, that was forward, I just meant – “

“No. No, Danvers, I…” She realizes there are tears in her eyes and she’s not quite sure why. She clears her throat and she forces down a gulp. “Where do you wanna go? On campus, off? There’s this pizza joint a few blocks off the SU that I like. Do you like pizza?”

“Isn’t it kinda the law?” Alex chuckles, and starts walking. 

Maggie falls into step, and after a quiet moment, Alex offers their arm out for Maggie to hold onto.

“Oh, a gentlehuman,” Maggie laughs, accepting their arm. She looks up at Alex with soft eyes. “Is there a word you prefer? Something less gendered, more?”

“Context,” Alex shrugs. “Right now?” They glance down at Maggie, at her leather jacket and tight jeans and gorgeous, gorgeous hair. “Gentleman would be just fine. I mean, unless you… you’ve only dated girls before? Not that this is a date, I mean – “

“It’s not?” Something’s dancing in Maggie’s eyes, something a lot like that confidence she’d had in her walk when she’d first gotten off her bike. But this is less affected, less defensive. This? This is happiness. This is hope.

“Is it? I mean, do you want it to be? If – I mean, I know it’s not how dates typically happen – “

“What, you mean sitting with a girl on your windowsill, getting egged on by your roommate, and then taking the girl on a walk to a pizza place off campus? That’s not your typical MO, Danvers?”

Alex laughs, and Maggie grins.

“I don’t have an… I mean, I don’t usually – we just met, I don’t want you to think I’m trying to…” 

“To what?”

Alex shrugs, stiffening as a group of frat boys laughs their way past them. They glance down at Maggie, whose face is suddenly steel, and Alex decides they like her even more than they already did. They put their arm over her shoulder and pull her closer to their body protectively.

The boys pass, and Alex shifts their arm, unsure of what to do.

“Is that okay?”

Maggie nods with a tight throat and a throbbing heart. Alex keeps their arm around her shoulder.

“You said you’re new here. New to cities. I told you I’d look out for you. I don’t want you to… to think I want anything in return.”

“Except maybe a date,” Maggie deadpans, but she’s smiling and her dimples ease Alex’s worry.

They lapse into a surprisingly comfortable silence, taking in the campus, taking in the football game on one side of the quad, the class being held outside on the other.

“Why would you want to?” Maggie asks after a while.

“Want to what?”

“Look out for me.”

Alex shrugs again. “You don’t seem like you need it. Looking out for. But everyone should have someone. It’s lonely otherwise.”

“Yes,” Maggie says after a long moment, and her tone tells Alex she’s not responding to their comment about loneliness.

“Yes what?” they ask, furrowed brow and nervous heart.

“Yes, this is a date, Danvers,” Maggie grins, and Alex can practically hear Lucy whooping from all the way across campus, can practically hear Kara’s excited squeals when they call her later tonight.

And all these things?

Make them feel like they’re flying.

SPEAKING OF MONSTER GIRLS i just rediscovered a thing i started last year and then forgot about

The grand escape from certain doom in a foreign land was going very well until xe fell off a cliff.

To be fair, it was not an obvious cliff. Nor was it a large cliff. It barely even qualified as a cliff. A ledge. A short drop. It was more of a slide than a fall, even. But there was a lot of shrieking, and skirts going in all directions, and legs going in two directions. It was almost as alarming to watch as it was to experience.

Lily Rose of the House of the Fifth Blue Star landed safely in rotting leaves and dirt. It felt a bit anticlimactic. With the amount of fuss xe’d made in falling, xe’d expected at least one broken ankle. Or two sprained ones. Either or. Instead xe was fine, which made all the screaming quite silly in retrospect. Dainty cloven hooves speared through leaves to find solid ground to stand on, rising up on spindly legs. Xe tried to straighten out xyr skirts, but only managed to fix about half of them. There were a lot of skirts. Xe resembled a layer cake made by someone with more enthusiasm than skill.

A layer cake which had then been thrown off a cliff. Which, to be fair: one might, if one was possessed both in close proximity. For curiosity’s sake, if nothing else.

Leaves had tangled in the ribbons wrapped around xyr antlers, and xe huffed as xe tried to fix them. Just because xe was mounting a grand escape from certain doom didn’t mean xe had to look like a ragamuffin while doing it.


All four hands froze at the sound of an ominous hiss. In xyr limited experience, most hissing was ominous. Xe could not recall having ever heard a hiss that boded well. Xe blinked, switching xyr optic sensors into night-mode to better see what lurked in the shadows of the trees.

Xe shrieked again.

Xe then clapped two hands over xyr mouth, because shrieking was both unproductive and rude.

She slid out from beneath the trees, five times more tail than torso and all of it much larger than Rose. She was pale opalescent scales and shimmering golden horns, black eyes and a blood-red mouth. Of her two arms, only one was organic; the other was gold, white light at the seams. Both hands had too many fingers, too many joints, too long, too sharp. Her open mouth revealed glinting fangs as she made more hissing sounds.

Rose squeaked, xyr eyes switching back to a setting less blinding. Then, because xe was at a loss for what to do, xe curtsied. Xe had a vague hope that it would cause enough confusion to buy xem some time. From what, xe did not know.

She scratched her chin, cocking her head to the side. Then she reached into the pocket of her doublet, and offered Rose a small sliver of gold on the tip of one finger.

“Oh!” Rose blinked in surprise. Xe had never seen a Shethi before; xe had not anticipated the size differences. Or the scales. “Yes, I suppose that would help, wouldn’t it?” Xe took careful steps closer, two hands holding xyr skirts up enough that xe wouldn’t step on them. Accepting the gift, xe set it on xyr tongue to press it to the roof of xyr mouth. It hummed, and the two of them waited in awkward silence for the data transfer to complete.

She reached out, and plucked a leaf from Rose’s antlers. Xyr ears twitched reflexively, and xe could feel xyr nose turn purple. She cocked her head to the side again, watching. Rose tried not to stare at her horns.

They were much bigger than xyrs.

Xe sighed in relief when the humming stopped, pulling the chip out of xyr mouth to tuck it into a small pocket. “Is this better?” xe transmitted hopefully.

“Much,” the stranger confirmed. “Why are you in my garden?”

Rose blinked again. Xe looked around them, at the little clearing in the woods. They were surrounded by nothing but dead trees, like a little graveyard amidst the towering red trunks. Everything smelled of rot and mold. Xyr nose twitched.

“This is a garden?” xe asked.

She reached for Rose again, and this time xe recoiled, because her hand was going for xyr bodice. She plucked a small mushroom from where it had been trapped in the laces, and held it up so xe could see. Xe covered xyr nose, as if that would make the blushing less obvious. “Yes,” she said simply.

“Oh.” Xe sagged. “It… was an accident.”

She rolled the fingers of her golden hand thoughfully, the joints all chiming as she did so. “I am Yana,” she said. “And you are?”

Again, Rose curtsied. “Lily Rose of the House of the Fifth Blue Star,” xe introduced.

“Ah.” Her face became distant as she processed this information. “You’re the gift from Koret.” It wasn’t a question. “Why are you here?”

“Diplomacy?” xe suggested.

“Not here,” she said, making a wide gesture with her hands. She pointed to the ground beneath them. “Here. You’re supposed to be at the palace.”

Rose fidgeted. “Can you keep a secret?”

“I can,” she said with an inclination of her head.

“I ran away,” xe said.

Yana scratched her chin again. “Between you and me,” she said, “I don’t think that will be a secret for very long.”

“Well, no,” xe agreed. “The secret is that I’m here.” Rose pointed to the ground beneath them. “I haven’t made it very far, you see, and if I could at least make it a little further it would be less embarrassing.”

“I see.” She steepled her fingers. “Your plan was to live in the woods?”

Xe scuffed her hooves in the dirt. “For a while,” xe said.

“And what were you going to eat?”

“Small rodents and large insects?” xe suggested.

“I see,” she said again, in a manner that did not inspire confidence. “You find this preferable to marriage?”

Am I supposed to get married?” Rose asked. “I wasn’t sure.”

Yana frowned. “Did no one tell you?”

“I read the treaty,” xe said, “but we had some trouble translating a few things.”

“What did you think you were signing?”

“The point of confusion was,” xe explained, “I was either supposed to marry a King, or be eaten by a dragon.”

Yana shut her eyes, golden fingers draped over her face. “Those are certainly… concepts.” She dropped her hand. “Why did no one ask for clarification?”

“Then we would have to admit we needed clarification,” xe explained. “We didn’t want the Shethi to think we were stupid.”

“I see.” Yana had, Rose realized, been moving her tail while they spoke. It did not quite circle xem, but it came close. Xe stamped an anxious hoof. “So you agreed to come here not knowing if you were meant to be married or eaten?”

“In fairness,” xe said, “there was only a fifty percent chance I would have to marry a King.”

A Little Bit Longer

Write-A-Thon: AU Day (1)

pairing: Lin-Manuel Miranda x reader

summary: Lin and reader both have Crohn’s Disease and receive Remicade infusions for treatment. With nothing to do for 3+ hours, they chat with each other and quickly become closely acquainted. 

warnings: IVs (like hospital ones), swearing, chronic illness? idk man

words: 2430

a/n: So, this is the first part to a fairly slow burn series I’m starting. It’s the most personal thing I’ve ever written and I’m sure it’ll keep getting more so. That being said, I’m absolutely terrified to put this out for people to see; I’ve never shared something this deeply personal to me and I’m just worried what the reactions will be. I really, really hope you guys like this. I cried a lot of tears writing it, but I think it’ll be a very healing experience for me. 

Thank you to @alexanderhamllton @secretschuylersister and @tempfixeliza who all read over it for me and helped calm my nerves about it. I love you all. 

tags: @bluesnowyangel @hamrevolution

There comes a moment in everyone’s life where something colossal happens, something changes in their lives, and they’re suddenly never the same person. Some people will change for the better, others for the worse, but it’s an inevitable fact of life.

Maybe it’ll happen when you’re seventy, you might just be seventeen, but regardless of age, it won’t be easy.  Life doesn’t discriminate between the old and the young; pain is pain and it demands to be felt, whether emotional, physical, or other.

For some time after said life changing event, the sun seems to stay hidden behind dark clouds and as far as the eye can see, there are storms. The storms will seem to never end and odds are, you’ll find yourself wondering how other people do it, how they get through it.

The truth is, it isn’t easy. You do it because you have to, because you have no other choice. Life will push you down countless times before you can get back up, and that might take years. But when you look up at that cloudy sky, you’ll see that every cloud has a silver lining. The sun will come back out, sometimes one ray at a time, and life will be beautiful again.

Keep reading

sunday, 3am

“Gently,” she stressed.

Sitting on the sink-counter, she looked washed-out in the harsh fluorescent light of their bathroom, a little spatter of blood staining the shoulder of her light blue scrubs, her skin a wintery kind of pale and her freckles fading as though they’d been one of God’s afterthoughts. Her braid rested tattered and ripped down her spine, long red strands falling in front of the bruises on her cheek, and as he carded her hair back behind her ear, she flinched involuntarily, her shaky hands stilling on her lap, her breath hitching.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, the bag of ice in his hand hovering before her, his brain buzzing in the overtired way he used to feel accustomed to. If his circadian rhythms were reliable, then he and his body estimated that three in the morning, maybe half past, had come and gone. A long time ago, she’d told him that keeping lights on from the nighttime hours of ten-to-ten harmed the brain’s ability to produce melatonin, but he figured that light would be the least of their worries tonight.

Softly, she met his gaze, then looked back down at her lap.

“Sorry,” she said, wincing at the word. “I’m just…I’m still a little shaken up.”

He nodded, then gingerly brought the ice to her cheek, and though she recoiled at first, luckily she eased against his touch, let out a deep, exhausted breath.

“Is there any bleeding?” she asked, her voice muffled by the ice.

“None at all,” he said.

She swallowed, said, “The nurse there seemed like she was doing a great job of cleaning it.”

“And you’re absolutely sure you’re not concussed?” he asked as he leaned against the sink, the house around them so still and silent that it made the winter beyond them feel heavier and thicker than it already was. 

Looking up at him, she delicately pressed her lips together, said, “Had the nurse check. No headache or dizziness. I’m fine, Mulder.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding to himself. 

Though she avoided late shifts and preferred not to work on Saturdays, she’d been on a Saturday evening to Sunday morning emergency room shift, eight pm to eight pm, but a one am call let him know that a drunk patient, a punch to the face, and some police involvement meant that she would be coming home early. The last time he, in her words, went caveman left them both embarrassed and uncomfortable, but now, he wished he could’ve been there, could’ve watched over her and had her back so that some drunkard would’ve never decked her behind a modesty curtain, wouldn’t have had a chance to let her head thud against a sterile linoleum floor before punching her again. Though he wanted to think of this protectiveness as more than an ancient biological imperative, though he wished he didn’t find himself at fault for something so clearly irrelevant to his existence, he still brought Duane Barry and Phillip Padgett and all of the other men who had wronged her to mind, wondered once more if he could’ve done more. While at the Bureau, he could’ve argued that he was her partner, that it was of the utmost importance for them to watch each other’s backs, but now, he could hardly merit the wish.

And had he been there, he probably would’ve been decked too, only he would’ve cried about it instead of stoically driving home afterward like she did. Sometimes, he figured, the universe chose to punch the ones who could take it, not the ones who couldn’t.

“You’re never working a night shift again,” he said, hoping to elicit a laugh or at least a pained smile; thankfully, she reached toward him, wrapped her fingers in his open hand, kept her eyes down but let him know that she was present and receptive anyway. 

“I sure hope not,” she said, “but if they ever want me to, I’m sure that citing this incident will make them change their minds.”

Softly, he laughed, and though he figured it would hurt her to smile, the purplish and red smears of bruises on her cheeks keeping her from moving her face too much, she still quirked her lip, the movement minute but visible. 

“Did you have any Advil before you got home?” he asked.

“I had one before I left the hospital.” 

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep?”

She sucked her lips in again, met his gaze, so he nodded in understanding. He figured neither or them would be getting much sleep tonight.

“Well,” he said, his voice turning theatrical, “I can offer some warm milk-”

“No hot liquids,” she said quickly. “Have to keep the swelling down.”

“Okay,” he said, off-put. There went his ideas for chamomile tea and maybe a warm bath in order to calm her down. “Then, cold water.”


He squeezed her hand.

“What are you looking for, then?” he asked. “My mind goes numb after midnight.”

Taking a deep breath, she said, “A movie, something mindless. Just until we feel we could fall asleep.”

So she shed her blood-smeared scrubs and opted for pajamas and thick socks; while she migrated to the couch, held the ice against her more bluish cheek, he rifled through their bookshelf, found Sleepless in Seattle and liked the irony it provided, so he popped the tape in, the lights off in their living room, the fish tank fluorescent and bubbling in the background, the winter winds shifting the shutters on their fixer-upper farmhouse. He sat on her less-bruised side, and as she spread a shared blanket over their laps, he fast-forwarded coming attractions of many years ago, her two hands wrapping around his free one. While the movie began, he tuned Meg Ryan out and kept his eyes on her instead, tried to survey her body for telltale signs of stress. 

She’d told him long ago that she felt anxiety not in her mind but in her limbs, in her joints; while her thoughts told her to push forward, her body cringed and faded, her demise coming not from her will but from her physical breakdown, so he’d tried to be a constant for her, had kept track of her hours and made sure that, even when she seemed so determined to finish just one more stack of paperwork, she would go home for a good night’s rest instead. From those many times, he knew what to look for: raised shoulders, shaky hands, huffed breaths, glasses pushed up far more often than one would expect. However, tonight shifted that response because her breakdown had come from a patient, not from herself, so while she took shallow breaths during the movie, he traced his thumb against the back of her hand, let her lean into him with her face angled so that his shoulder and her bruises never quite made contact. As four am ticked past, he realized that he’d never watched this movie in full, but because he’d distracted himself during the first half of the film, he hadn’t a clue where the plot went.

“Scully?” he whispered, almost wincing at how his voice interrupted the special, rural silence around them. 

When she didn’t shift, he craned his neck, and though he should’ve been able to tell through her long, languid breaths against his chest, he only noticed that she’d fallen asleep when he looked down and saw her closed eyes. Reaching for the remote, he turned the television off, and with deft, gentle motions, he managed to lift her up without waking her - after all, she could sleep anywhere, from passenger’s seats of cheap rental cars to bleach-ridden motel beds to his old leather couch back before he’d been able to offer her a bed instead - and carried her upstairs though his aging joints protested with each step. 

Thankful that he’d left the bed unmade after she’d called, he managed to slip her beneath the overturned sheets on his side of the bed, tucked her in before he climbed in on the other still-made side. Out here, the nights were dark save for the endless lines of unobstructed stars in the sky, so he kept their bedroom’s blinds up, soft light falling over her bruising face, the rise and fall of her chest shifting the duvet while she slept. Her pillow smelled like that lavender shampoo she liked, and though the stuffing was too thick for him, he found that he could still relax into it, their respective alarm clocks off for now, her bedside book-stack dwindling as his seemed only to grow larger, her reading glasses askew and the closet door left open in a way that would’ve scared him as a child. 

And he presented himself with two lonely options: either he could work out hundreds of different scenarios that left her unscathed and him some kind of half-assed hero, or he could watch her soft breaths until their cadence lulled him to sleep. For once, he picked the second option and drifted off before morning began to creep through the windows.

smartcookie727  asked:

Your nalu is awesome :) how about fluffy "ice cream" for nalu if you're interested?



“And then she said, ‘I’m a feminist,’ and I was like, ‘Hell no, I’m not having anything to do with this chick!’” the man next to Lucy laughed, and Lucy barely offered a chuckle in response.

Jack was obviously handsome with his clean cut looks and expensive suit, but Lucy thought it was a little out of place for a quaint ice cream joint. He had chosen it after the movie he had chosen, and she was beginning to think that this man just wanted to spend money on dates practically for himself.

Lucy turned herself toward her ice cream, taking a bigger bite than she intended. Jack gave her a disgusted look, telling her that women should only take small bites.

“Funny,” Lucy said, wiping her mouth, “because you keep looking over at that brunette who takes bigger bites than me.”

“Mm, well, the female body is intoxicating and I want to look at every one I lay my eyes on,” Jack said, inspecting his nails for a moment before his eyes roamed over Lucy’s legs. “Yours is quite beautiful as well, you know.”

A hand pulled Jack away from where he gazed at Lucy, knocking the cup of ice cream out of her hands. She was a little annoyed until she looked at the person grabbing Jack by his collar.

His eyes were a piercing sage, and his hair was a light rose. His face looked like it would rather be smiling than scowling at the moment, and his strong hand held Jack up as if he weighed an ounce.

“Listen, asshole. Women are meant to be treated with respect, not mocked for being feminists. Men can be feminists too, ya know, and it’s also not fucking okay to look at women like they’re meat,” the man’s voice was deep and growled, and Lucy liked the way it sounded.

The man turned toward Lucy, a smile on his face now. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her heart beating a little faster. His eyes were intense.

The man looked at Jack one more time, his eyes narrowed, “Get out of here before I kick your ass.”

Jack huffed once he was set down, wiping off his suit. He eyed Lucy once more with a glare before exiting the shop.

Lucy sighed, running a hand through her hair. She hadn’t had a date go that badly before…

“Hey,” the man said, his eyes brighter than before as they stared at one another. “I’m Natsu.”

“Lucy,” she answered, shaking his extended hand with a soft smile.

“Well, Luce, ya want another ice cream? It was my fault that you dropped it,” Natsu said, rubbing the back of his head.

“On one condition,” Lucy said, pointing a finger in the air.


“You have one with me,” Lucy said, looking into his eyes.

Natsu nodded with a smile. “Deal.”


There you go, dear! I hope you enjoyed lol

Requests are open for another hour, and then I’ll close them and get to writing on my commission! ❤

prom weekend escapades! (they only wanted 1 (one) weekend not saving the world!) (via @avalencias )  


That time they had to spend senior skip day saving the world. (The food in [wherever] they landed was pretty good, though. Almost made up for it.) (via @chiltongirlsdoitbetter )

When the limo pulls up into her driveway and her four fellow Rangers spill out, Kim has to admit that Jason had been right: going all out with the tailored formal wear had been a good call. And when the four of them ring the bell to her house and each present her with a small corsage (with either black, blue, red, or yellow flowers, of course) and she pins a pink boutonniere onto each of their lapels, she has to admit that Billy had been right as well: there wasn’t anything at all weird about going to Senior Prom as a fivesome.

Keep reading

X-Files Fic: What Was Taken, What Was Lost- Chapter Five

Previous chapters: One | Two | Three | Four

A/N:  This is the end!!!  I honestly thought it would have more chapters, but the entire story that I wanted to tell fit naturally into five, so five chapters it is!  Thanks for reading!!

As much as he wants to stay awake with Scully and make a plan for tonight, Mulder is still not recovered from his ordeal in the blizzard, and as a consequence, he sleeps for much of the day.  Scully is there every time he wakes, reading in the chair by his bed, studying case notes, nibbling on a plate of fruit from downstairs, napping by his side.  At seven o'clock, she pulls him out of bed and makes him get dressed.

“We need to get you moving before you grow roots in that bed,” she tells him, quelling his grumbling protests.  "Let’s go and have dinner downstairs tonight.“

"We can just as easily order it up to our room,” Mulder argues, but Scully remains firm.

“There’s no telling what will happen tonight,” she says.  "For all we know, you and I could end up running through the snow in the middle of the night again.  That’s going to be much harder to do if you’re stiff and sore because you haven’t used your legs all day.“  He’s about to continue fighting her, but the cramps that shoot up his thighs the moment he stands silence him, while she stands there, looking smug.  "Get dressed,” she says, handing him a pair of clean boxers from his suitcase.  His legs continue to protest as he raises them, one at a time, to pull his shorts on.  Looking up, he sees her grinning mischievously at him as she offers him a fresh pair of jeans.

“What?” he demands, taking the clothing from her.

“Do you need help?” she asks.  Glaring, he shoves his legs into his jeans with unnecessary force and winces, which only makes her smile wider.

“No, I do not need help getting dressed,” he growls, crossing the room (suppressing another grimace as his stiff joints protest- he doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction) and pulling a long-sleeved sweater from his suitcase.

“You seem a little stiff, is all,” Scully says.

“You didn’t mind me being stiff this morning,” he shoots back, leering at her, and she rolls her eyes, chuckling.

“Come on, Mr. Foster,” she says, taking his arm and leading him from the room.  "Let’s go get some food in you.“

Keep reading

my headcanon, post One Son, that actually really happened

Emotionally stunted Gunmen console? Scully when she drops by to get something for some other case (Mulder doesn’t want to deal with them) Langley offers her a joint as a joke,

She accepts tho

Diana’s Daily Lines - “Go Tell The Bees That I Am Gone” (Book 9)

#DailyLines #GoTELLTheBEESThatIAmGONE #Book9 #BackwoodsEtiquette #noitsnotfinished #nowherenear#butitsgoingfine #dontworry

My breath steamed white in the dimness of the smoke-shed. No fire had been lit in here for over a month, and the air smelt of bitter ash and the tang of old blood.

“How much do you think this thing weighs?” Brianna put both hands on the shoulder of the enormous black and white hog lying on the crude table by the back wall and leaned her own weight experimentally against it. The shoulder moved slightly—rigor had long since passed, despite the cold weather—but the hog itself didn’t budge an inch.

“At a guess, it originally weighed somewhat more than your father. Maybe three hundred pounds on the hoof?” Jamie had bled and gralloched the hog when he killed it; that had probably lightened his load by a hundred pounds or so, but it was still a lot of meat. A pleasant thought for the winter’s food, but a daunting prospect at the moment.

I unrolled the pocketed cloth in which I kept my larger surgical tools; this was no job for an ordinary kitchen knife.

“What do you think about the intestines?” I asked. “Usable, do you think?”

She wrinkled her nose, considering. Jamie hadn’t been able to carry much beyond the carcass itself—and in fact had dragged that—but had thoughtfully salvaged twenty or thirty pounds of intestine. He’d roughly stripped the contents, but two days in a canvas pack hadn’t improved the condition of the uncleaned entrails, not savory to start with. I’d looked at them dubiously, but put them to soak overnight in a tub of salt water, on the off chance that the tissue hadn’t broken down too far to prevent their use as sausage casing.

“I don’t know, Mama,” Bree said reluctantly. “I think they’re pretty far gone. But we might save some of it.”

“If we can’t, we can’t.” I pulled out the largest of my amputation saws and checked the teeth. “We can make square sausage, after all.” Cased sausage was much easier to preserve; once properly smoked, they’d last indefinitely. Sausage patties were fine, but took more careful handling, and had to be packed into wooden casks or boxes in layers of lard for keeping…we hadn’t any casks, but–

“Lard!” I exclaimed, looking up. “Bloody hell–I’d forgotten all about that. We don’t have a kettle, bar the kitchen cauldron, and we can’t use that.” Rendering lard took several days, and the kitchen cauldron supplied at least half our cooked food, to say nothing of hot water.

“Can we borrow one?” Bree glanced toward the door, where a flicker of movement showed. “Jem, is that you?”

“No, it’s me, auntie.” Germain stuck his head in, sniffing cautiously. “Mandy wanted to visit Rachel’s _petit bonbon_, and _Grand-pere _ said she could go if Jem or me would take her. We threw bones and he lost.”

“Oh. Fine, then. Will you go up to the kitchen and fetch the bag of salt from Grannie’s surgery?”

“There isn’t any,” I said, grasping the pig by one ear and setting the saw in the crease of the neck. “There wasn’t much, and we used all but a handful soaking the intestines. We’ll need to borrow that, too.”

I dragged the saw through the first cut, and was pleased to find that while the fascia between skin and muscle had begun to give way—the skin slipped a little with rough handling—the underlying flesh was still firm.

“I tell you what, Bree,” I said, bearing down on the saw as I felt the teeth bite between the neck bones, “it’s going to take a bit of time before I’ve got this skinned and jointed. Why don’t you call round and see which lady might lend us her rendering kettle for a couple of days, and a half-pound of salt to be going on with?”

“Right,” Bree said, seizing the opportunity with obvious relief. “What should I offer her? One of the hams?”

“Oh, no, auntie,” said Germain, quite shocked. “That’s much too much for the lend of a kettle! And ye shouldna offer anyway,” he added, small fair brows drawing together in a frown. “Ye dinna bargain a favor. She’ll ken ye’ll give her what’s right.”

She gave him a look, half questioning, half amused, then glanced at me. I nodded.

“I see I’ve been gone too long,” she said lightly, and giving Germain a pat on the head, vanished on her errand

Crumble For Me -(Harrison Wells/Reader AU)

Imagine this…An AU where STAR Labs is actually STAR Lounge, A Gentleman’s Club. Owner Harrison Wells is elusive and dashing all in one, until a new dancer, down on her luck, shows up looking for a job…

Originally posted by theflash-barryallen

Originally posted by theflash-barryallen

“Harrison Wells, has been considered many things since his move to Central City. A business man, a philanthropist, so when he decided to open up a gentlemen’s club it caused quite a stir.” The spokesperson on the television smiled as she turned in her chair, “Why a strip joint?”

“First…” The camera panned over to a well-dressed man adjusting his glasses on his face. Harrison smiled at the woman next to him, “it’s not a strip joint. It’s an establishment for entertainment.”

“Entertainment that promotes the sexual objectification of women.” She countered quickly.

“Not just women.” He continued smiling as he explained, “As I said we are a place for entertainment for both women and men. For that matter we’re not just about sex appeal. It’s a plus don’t get me wrong, and we mainly employ dancers, but we also have shows.”

“Shows?” Her eyes narrowed on him, “Could you elaborate?”

“We offer special nights bringing in talent, such as burlesque, singers, we’ve even been considering aerial dancing recently. You could consider us a modern day moulin rouge.” He explained coolly.

The interview went on further diving what the infamous STAR Lounge offered. Cisco stared up at the screen behind the bar, “Nice work boss.”

“She was out for blood.” Harry looked at his DJ, “You find someone to replace Lana?”

“Caitlin says she thinks she’s got a prospect.” Cisco looked at him shrugging, “Want me to set up an interview with her?”

Harry grabbed his drink pushing of the bar stool, “Did Snow say what her experience was?”

“Uh…no…” Cisco made a face as Harry turned his back on him beginning to walk away, “She said she had a good feeling about her. She’s usually not wrong.”

Harry stopped taking in a deep breath, “Fine…but we do it my way.”

Early in the afternoon you walked into the STAR Lounge heart thumping against your chest as you clutched your bag strap for dear life. You took a deep breath trying to stay calm. You’d heard good things about this place and hoped they’d hire you.

“Y/N?” You looked to your left at a well-dressed woman walking toward you. She had a pretty smile and soft flowing hair that laid gently against her shoulders, “I’m Caitlin.”

“Oh…” You held out your hand to her, “It’s nice to finally meet you. Thank you for giving me a call.”

“Thank you for coming.” She took your hand giving it a firm shake, “Follow me.”

You let go of her hand walking behind her taking in the view of the place. It was massive for a club. Several stages, massive sound system linked through the entire place…you’d never been in a place like this.

“Take a seat.” Caitlin smiled at you waving to a chair, “Can I get you a drink?”

“No…” You shook your head as you sat down, “thank you.”

“Is this the one?” You turned your head seeing a young man with long hair walking over.

“Yes, Y/N this is Cisco Ramon.”  Caitlin rolled her eyes a little, “He’s our DJ here and will be conducting the interview.”

“DJ? I…thought I’d be having an interview with the boss…” You watched Cisco sit down, “No offense.”

“None taken…” You followed his gaze toward an office that over looked the entire club with darkened windows, “Mr. Wells…is busy. He asked me to conduct the interview.”

“Alright.” You smiled a little, “If that’s what works…then that’s what we do.”

“That’s optimistic of you.” Caitlin smiled a little, “Let’s just start with some questions to get started.

Harry stood at the window looking down at the trio watching you. Lifting the glass to his lips he took a drink watching you carefully. You were young, obviously bright, but behind those eyes there was a secret.

He knew Snow and Cisco wouldn’t pull it out of you, but really that didn’t matter. If you could dance, and do it well then you’d get the job. However, it was rare that someone just walked in off the street looking for a job and didn’t have a story in this line of work.

He shook his head after the fifteen minutes of excruciating talking. Snow always did like to talk and get to know everyone. When he saw Cisco stand up and move to the sound board he knew it was show time.

Caitlin walked you over to the stage no doubt telling you what STAR Lounge was looking for. You nodded as you swept up your hair into a loose ponytail. Harry shook his head, “This isn’t a workout…”

Crossing his arms, he watched you take off your jacket before stepping up to the stage staring at the pole. Did you even know how to do this? He thought to himself as he readied himself for disaster.

Cisco cued up the song they’d talked about earlier. Slow, with a good sensual beat. Hard to dance to without looking like you were trying too hard. He smirked seeing Caitlin glare up at the office.

“Sorry Snow, I’m tired of street trash thinking they’re allowed here.” He muttered to himself as his eyes moved back to you.

You looked the pole up and down letting the beat seep into you. Caitlin had told you they looked for people who made the audience feel like they were up on the stage with you. You rolled you neck shutting your eyes before letting you hand glide up the pole.

Make them want you…You thought to yourself.

Harry watched as you immediately twirled around the pole getting into the groove of the song. Alright so you had rhythm, didn’t make you good. His eyes never left you as you moved around with ease. Then it happened…

It was a simple glance up toward the office, but he was there. On the stage with you. Your small frame moved around his hands as you danced giving him that heavy lidded look. The one that makes a person crumble.

He blinked taking a step back from the window. He turned away taking in a deep breath as he leaned on his desk. It had been a long time since that had happened.

He reached over to his phone texting Cisco, She’s hired.

He slapped his phone against his hand as he turned back around watching you do a final twirl around the pole as the music toned down. Some of your hair had fallen out of the ponytail giving you the look of a ‘good night’.

Sure there were a few things to change…Snow could help you with that, but he had a feeling you’d be exactly what this place needed. That is if that past you hid well didn’t catch up to them first.

“You’ll be live next week.” Cisco told you, “Until then you’ll be here working on a routine.”

You smiled picking up your jacket, “Thank you so much.”

“Follow me.” Caitlin smiled, “I’ll get you in the system and do the paper work. You’re gonna find that we do things differently than most clubs.”

“I can already see that.” You told her, “This place is a lot cleaner then my last job.”

“Where was that again?” Cisco asked you as he locked up the sound board.

“Coast City.” You told him.

“What brought you here? I imagine the beaches there are way nicer.” Cisco smirked a little.

You tensed a little before shrugging, “Honestly, I just needed a change of pace…I heard Central City was the nice city.”

“You’re not wrong.” He laughed a little shaking your hand, “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

Harry sat on the top of his desk sipping his drink when Cisco walked in, “What’d you get?”

Cisco ran a hand through his hair, “Coast City…”

Harry stood up and looked at him, “Call Iris…let’s get her to do her thing. I wanna know what we’re going to be dealing with.”

Strawberry Moon - (Trixya/Vatya) - spacespice

Just another Hollywood lesbian AU. Trixie is a struggling music artist finally discovered by a sleazy Hollywood manager; however, his Russian trophy bride (along with her small-waisted young lover) complicate and confuse Trixie’s rise to the top as a legend, icon, and star. 

A/N: This is the brain-vomit first outing in an AU that will be two or three parts long? Fair warning, this is heavier on Trixya than Vatya. (But I’m a slut for Vatya, so there will never be enough.) Also, I’m not a Russian fish; so, if any of these phrases are totally and completely wrong…I apologize. 

Keep reading

One Sunday Morning

Some fluff, I guess. Enjoy

Supergirl was surprised.

When she decided to fly by Lena’s house—for friendship, obviously—she had certainty not expected to see this. This being the one and only Lena Luthor sitting on one of the couches of her balcony listening to chill music, joint in hand. She stared curiously at Lena’s hand which was being brought to her lips. She quickly adverted her gaze.

When she thought of Lena enjoying one of her rare days off, she imagined her in her kitchen island enjoying a glass of wine while preparing some of her disgusting kale eccentricities. Or perhaps drinking a cup of tea along with a good book, her glasses perched low on her nose, toes curled under a blanket, a small satisfied smile gracing her lips-

Keep reading

hey and welcome to the Quidditch sisterhood, please shave your head and take off at least one piece of underwear xoxo

I got… super super impatient to post this and therefore it hasn’t even been read through four times! Which is usually my minimum. fuq it. featuring lesbian draco/harry, and then loads of other relationships I’m not going to bother to write here because it would take too long. @lears @dddraconis @pleasantboat lol this is 7200 words xxxx (((I will also put this on ao3 where it will be easier to read, so stay tuned for a link 4 that)))


The last of the horrors that had been lurking in the attic of Grimmauld Place had been banished about half an hour ago, leaving only the more general, non-horror items, of which there weren’t many, along with a lot of dust and approximately one thousand spiders. Ron had been fine, up to a point, just going all stiff and weird every time he saw one, and shuddering occasionally like he wanted to shake his skin off. 

Then Ginny had let a huge, creeping thing crawl across her bare, freckled arm and he’d gone pale, paler than usual, and swore at her a bit before leaving. Hermione had stayed for a little longer, clambering over the faded furniture with her sleeves rolled up, banishing dead bats and a gold cage and a dull-looking clock that had seemed harmless enough until it had started whispering at them.

Keep reading

It’s habits today, so you know they smoking.

She’s never been on an empty set before. There’s barely enough lights lit around that she can see the shapes of props and camera rigs, but it’s still dark enough that if she wants to, she can pretend that she’s somewhere else, maybe somewhere she wants to be.

They’re wandering through the zombie set a few lots over, Soul points out his favorite Zombie faces, and a few of the over dramatic blood splatters zones where they shoot the death scenes. Maka listens to him, a question on her tongue.

Keep reading

Boss [Part III] (Happy x OC)

Word Count: 3,213

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4: Coming Soon | Part 5: Coming Soon

Playlist: Heartbreaker (feat. Jay Z) - Mariah Carey, & Good Ol’ Ghetto - Usher

Originally posted by ellaelysa

Originally posted by mzzjones93

I sat with Capri after our meeting with Nero. She was still reeling from everything that had been going on but she knew that I was doing everything to take care of her. Her wellbeing was in danger and I didn’t want her to resort back to drugs, or tricking. Not if she didn’t want too. Nero agreed to keep her around Diosa to recuperate.

I reached out and laid a hand on Capri’s shoulder. I had a feeling deep in my stomach that Capri was going to walk away from this life, and soon.

“Are you ok staying here?” I needed to be confident that she felt safe. If she didn’t then I failed at my job.

Capri nodded, “Thank you Dani. For everything.”

Keep reading


Title: Loveless

Pairings: Jimmy Darling x (F) reader

Warnings: implied cheating, angst but fluffy.

A/N: This is super short.

prompt list

Gifs: [x] [x] [x]

Tears cascaded down his cheeks, silent cries escaping him. The only sound in the room was the occasionally sniffle and wheeze for air. Waves of sadness crashed over him, each as powerful and heartbreaking as the last. He fisted the blanket beside him, squeezing his chocolate eyes shut. The agonising pain only seemed to grow and spread, impossible to escape.

No one could soothe him, no one could dull the tremendous pain he was suffering with. She had done this to him, but that was never her intention. She never meant to hurt him, that’s the last thing she wanted.

Y/N threw her head back, laughing at what the boy had said. He showed kindness her, something she hadn’t known in so long. His own laughter was music to her ears, she missed the sound of laughter. It seemed like it had been years since she last laughed or was truly happy. She was happy with him, he made her feel alive - exhilarated.

Y/N’s grin slowly disappeared when she noticed Jimmy walking into the busy diner. Jimmy’s dazed smile also dropped from his face when he saw Y/N, her hands resting on another man’s forearm, but her eyes locked with his. The last trace of her smile dropping from her face, leaving her emotionless. Jimmy’s heart sank further into his chest, he gulped - Adam’s apple bobbing - before turning on his heels and marching out.

Y/N scrambled to her feet, grabbing her bag from the floor and sprinting after him. His long strides put him at least three metres ahead of her.

“Jimmy,” she called out, but he ignored her, climbing onto his motor bike and speeding off, leaving her stranded, “I - I.” She broke down in tears.

By time Y/N trudged back to camp, the sun had long set and her hair and clothes were soaked with rain. She had refused her male friend’s offer of a lift back to camp, as she didn’t want to make things worse with Jimmy. The rain pelted against her face like tiny knives. Her eyes stung with exhaustion and her nose was painfully red, as were her cheeks, hands and ears.

The grounds were quiet as all the ‘freaks’ had fled to their caravan’s to avoid the downfall. Y/N grudgingly trudged to her and Jimmy’s joint caravan, pushing open the door cautiously. Her movement stopped suddenly when she registered the sound of sobs, coming from her bed that she shared with her lover - Jimmy. She guardedly crept towards him, her heart clenching when she saw him. His nose tinted pink, his eyes blood shot and glossy with tears. He was in complete pain, Y/N had only seen him like this after Ethel had died. His brown eyes trained on her, his hand squeezed in a fist. She staggered towards him, placing her hand on his thigh, kneeling before him.

“Jimmy, baby, I didn’t mean to upset you..” She rasped, but he flinched away. He couldn’t bare to have her hands on him, after she touched another man. The idea, which had once made him feel warm and fuzzy inside, made him sick to his stomach.

“You did though, even if you didn’t mean it…” Jimmy croaked, “you touched him, you’ve barely touched me in months, barely breath a word to me. When you say that you love me, I don’t believe it. Why have we drifted apart? I only loved and cherished you, but these past months we’ve been like strangers. I don’t want to lose you - the thought makes me feel sick - but if you no longer love me, please - I beg - do not pull me along. I’d rather be without you and know you’re happy, then for you to be with me and be unhappy, stuck in a loveless relationship.”

The speech broke her heart into millions of pieces, she wanted to scoop him up in her arms and tell him he was wrong - oh how he was wrong - she loved him more than anything on this god forsaken world, he was her reason for living.

Y/N shook her head, her own eyes glazed with tears. She reached up, stroking his cheek. His eyes subconsciously fluttered shut, it was so familiar. She stood up, slowly, bowing her head and planting soft kisses along his hairline. Her tears dripping off of her chin, into his hair. Jimmy nuzzled his head into her stomach, his own tears staining and dampening the fabric of her shirt. Jimmy pulled back, looking up at her.

“I love you more than anything, Jimmy, I swear it. And our relationship is sure as hell not loveless.” Y/N promised, keeping eye contact.

“Then why were you with him?” He sniffled, wiping his nose and eyes on the back of his hand.

“Because you’ve been grieving you’re mother’s death and I didn’t want to invade your space. I know that you prefer being alone when you’re grieving. But I got lonely and he was nice to me, unlike everyone else, he didn’t call me a freak and we became friends - that’s all. I would never cheat on you or even think of another man when I have you. You’re the only man I will ever need.” Y/N sighed, sitting down on his lap, her legs on either side of his hips.

She traced his cheeks, wiping the tears with her thumb. She placed a chaste kiss on his temple, inhaling his familiar scent - a scent she hadn’t smelt in so long. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. Jimmy sighed and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her even closer.

“Forgive me, baby?” Y/N pleaded, bumping her nose against his neck. “Only if you still want me and love me…”

Jimmy sighed, nodding his head. “I’ll always love you.” Jimmy admitted.

Likes, replies, asks and reblogs are deeply appreciated.

Take It All Back

Part Nine

Summary: Journey and Jensen share the good news of the baby with the rest of their family, amidst new ups and downs in their relationship.  
Pairing: Jensen x OFC (Journey)
Word Count: 1475
Warnings: Pregnancy.


Keep reading