that blank look is even more powerful and heartbreaking to me

Sheith Fic Rec

I figured that I wanted to contribute to the fandom in some way and I read a lot of fics, so why not make a rec list? I included the summary for each fic, plus some commentary from me in italics. I hope the authors don’t mind that I linked them, at least the ones I know of. Thank you so much for contributing to this wonderful ship, it wouldn’t be as great as it is now without you. Feel free to talk to me about sheith anytime, I’d love to make more friends.

One-Shots (Canon-verse)

the whole town’s sleeping by astrainclinant (T) 18k 

Of inevitability and stars.

Alternatively, how Keith and Shiro come together.

Basically what I’d consider a classic Sheith fic, and a must read for any Sheith fan. I will never have the words to describe how I feel when I read this.


the fear of falling by amillionsmiles/ @amillionsmiles (G) 4k

Keith can pull off a downward spiral. It’s the kind of maneuver he does in his sleep.

Keith character study, with implied Sheith. Different attempt at Keith’s backstory.


 ‘til you set fire to my atmosphere by amillionsmiles/ @amillionsmiles (T) 2k 

And it’s like the first punch Keith ever landed on him: quick and glancing, right at the ribs, out of left field and yet simultaneously a long time coming.

Pining Shiro, because Pining Shiro is everything.


the body remembers (what the mind forgets) by ShirosRedKnight (SweetFanfics)/ @shirosredknight (E) 10k

Shiro’s fingers slide up to touch his skin, warm points of contact that make Keith shiver. “It’s just a year,“ Shiro reassures him quietly, "I’ll be back before you know it. It’ll be like the time you were studying to come here.”

His lips twitch up, trying to be supportive but it’s hard. Keith knows its the right thing to do, to be happy for Shiro. But it’s hard when he’s imagining a space without Shiro in it. Loneliness is already creeping up his torso, curling around his heart and lungs and choking the happy pride he feels for Shiro.

He already misses Shiro so terribly.

tldr: Keith and Shiro were together pre-canon but then Shiro went on his mission and came back with no memories of his time with Keith. How does one even begin to deal with the love of your life forgetting you?

That Shiro forgetting Keith and their relationship AU we all need. The feelings in this were A+.

Keep reading

47 Minutes

All right. Here is my fic for Hannah’s Writing Challenge! @hanny-bananny

Pairing: Spencer x Reader

Quote: “If this is you, and you’re out there, come home. Please.”

*Edit made by @dontshootmespence*

—–

They say there is no greater pain in life, no greater loss one can feel, than that of a child. To lose a parent is eventual and inevitable. To lose a loved one is tragic, but tolerable. To lose a friend is heartbreaking, but the ability to move on is still there.

But not with a child.

Parents always presume their children will be the ones burying them, not the other way around. Children are brought into this world as a blank slate, a new face, a continuation of their parents’ legacy. And when that new fire of life is snuffed out far before its time, there’s no coming back from that. Marriages seldom stay together. Husbands and wives find themselves unable to be around each other. If they couldn’t even protect their child, what business did they have pretending they could still be happy together?

Forty-seven minutes. That’s how long it had been. For forty-seven minutes, you held her in your arms, feeling her skin growing colder, hearing her tiny heartbeat growing fainter, listening as her short breaths slowly faded away. For forty-seven minutes, you were the perfect family: you, your husband, your child. For forty-seven minutes, you’d been everything you’d ever wanted to be in life: a mother.

And when that forty-seven minutes was up, they took her away from you. They wrenched her from your arms, apologizing over and over again, saying that continuing to see her like that would only make things worse. What did they know? How dare they speak to you like they even knew? How dare they take your child away from you before you even had a chance to truly appreciate her beauty? You didn’t care that she had been gone almost from the moment she came out of you. You didn’t care about the psychological damage that could occur from continuing to hold her lifeless body in your arms. She was your daughter. And all you wanted was time with her. Because now she was gone forever. And you would never get that time back.

In the days following your return from the hospital, you had been like a ghost in your own house. Not eating. Not sleeping. Not engaging in conversation with your husband. Not even really existing. You were just…there. On the days when you actually found the strength to get out of bed, you wandered aimlessly from room to room, each one bringing more pain than the last.

First there was the living room, where you had sat nearly nine months ago, anxious but excited, as you waited for Spencer to come home from work, the positive pregnancy test in your hands. Or the kitchen, where your crazy food cravings refused to let you sleep, and you and Spencer had stayed up all night eating ice cream and coming up with the most ridiculous-sounding names for your little nugget (Makierity Sixty-Four was your personal favorite). Or your bedroom, where you had felt the baby kick for the first time, and Spencer had actually started crying as he proclaimed that he’d never been so happy in his entire life. Or the nursery, where the two of you had spent hours trying to put together the impossible-to-build crib only to have Morgan come by and assemble the damn thing in less than twenty minutes.

All of it, all of those beautiful memories, all of the good and the pure associated with those rooms, all of it was gone now.

But that wasn’t as heart-wrenching as the guilt that piled up in the pit of your stomach any time you looked into Spencer’s eyes. You had always hoped that your child would get his eyes. So bright and beautiful. They always had made you feel like you were the only person in a crowded room when he looked at you with them. They were gentle eyes full of love and compassion, both traits that Spencer had in abundance. You had always loved how they would soften when he would talk to the baby at night, filling its head with all kinds of wonderful stories and mind-blowing statistics. If he wasn’t careful, you would have another little genius on your hands.

But now, those eyes appeared lost and dazed. The hope in them had burned out. Now when you looked into them (something you found yourself doing less and less of as of late), you couldn’t help but feel that there was something else lurking behind the dark irises. Something past the pain and the heartache. And it was with this observation that you began to question: Does he blame me for what happened?

Now you knew Spencer would never say anything of the sort to you. After all, he’d been doing everything in his power to try to bring you out of your slump, even though you could tell it was taking everything in him not to fall apart completely. He’d had members of his team come by to try and cheer you up. JJ informed you that she, too, had suffered a miscarriage, and Hotch you knew had lost his wife to a serial killer. And while both of those were tragic in and of themselves, neither of them could truly understand the pain you experienced carrying someone inside of you for nine months only to lose them moments after bringing them into this world.

Forty-seven minutes. That’s all the protection you could provide her. Forty-seven fucking minutes.

He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be stuck in a house with someone who had taken away the one thing he wanted most. You knew early on that Spencer wanted to be a dad. You saw how much he loved and adored his godson Henry, and you wanted nothing more than the chance to give that to him. He deserved some bit of happiness to counteract with all the trauma he had endured in his life (you didn’t know all of it, but you knew enough to know that boy had suffered enough sadness to last him a lifetime).

But you couldn’t even do that. And that’s why you had to leave.

You waited until Spencer had left for work. He only recently started going back, and you were glad that he would have something to help distract him from everything that had been going on. Maybe with luck, he’d have a case which would permit him to be gone for a few days, giving you both time to clear your heads. Maybe when he came home and found you weren’t there, maybe you would both realize this was for the better. After all, why keep around someone who’s only going to cause you grief?

Leaving behind nothing but a hastily scribbled note stating that you were fine and that it would be in his best interest not to come looking for you, you set out. Where were you going? What was your plan? If you ever did plan to return, when would that be? All these were questions you hoped to answer while you were gone.

However, that was three days ago. And now you were currently sitting in a motel about twenty miles out of DC with no plans of where to go and what your endgame was. Your phone had been ringing so much that you finally turned the damn thing off, unable to listen to it anymore. Maybe thirty missed calls would give Spencer the hint that you didn’t want to talk to anyone. You just wanted to be alone. Alone to stew in your thoughts.

But after three days of drinking yourself nearly into a coma in this stuffy, ratty motel room, you couldn’t stand the isolation anymore. You needed to get out and go somewhere. Anywhere. Anyplace that had people. People who didn’t know you. People who would look at you with something other than sadness and pity. A place where you could start over and forget about the pain you had caused back home in Virginia.

As you loaded your bags into the back of the car and debated for a moment whether or not you should bother turning your phone back on, you heard a sudden beep coming from the glove box. There was only one thing in there that would be beeping like that, but there’s no way it was activated. You never gave that number out. There’s no way anyone would have called it…

You slowly reached over and opened the glove box, pulling out the old flip phone nestled underneath old receipts, insurance papers, and other random brochures you and Spencer had accumulated over the years. For the past few years, you had kept a separate phone in your car in case of emergencies only. You’d heard enough horror stories from Spencer about bad things happening to people stuck on the side of the road with a dead car battery and, even worse, a dead phone battery. Not wanting to ever find yourself in that situation, you always made sure to have your back up phone charged just in case the time called for it.

But you never gave the number out. You doubted Spencer even knew you had it. Not that you didn’t trust him, but you felt that the less people knew about it, the less chance there was of it ever going missing or being stolen. And yet, here it was, beeping up at you, flashing the message “1 New Voicemail.”

Probably just a wrong number, you thought to yourself. Someone calling looking for someone else. Or a telemarketer trying to sell me something. It’s nothing. I should just delete it.

But as your finger hovered over the ‘Delete’ button, curiosity got the best of you. Might as well see what this mystery caller wanted right? You’d had barely any human contact for the past three days. Might be nice to hear another voice.

However, as you hit the play button and brought the phone to your ear, your jaw instantly dropped and tears formed in your eyes as you heard your husband’s voice come through the speaker, sounding pained and choked with emotion.

“Y/N? I…I hope this is you. I had Garcia do some digging and she found this number registered in your name. Your maiden name. I take it you’ve had it for a while then. I figured it must be for emergencies or something, but that doesn’t matter right now. I just need you to hear me. I just need to tell you that…I miss you. I miss you so much. And also to tell you that…I understand why you left.

“I know everyone can say that they understand your pain and that they know what you’re going through, but they don’t. No one truly understands your pain like you do. Even I don’t, and I hate that I don’t. I saw the hurt in your eyes every time you looked at me. And I hated that I couldn’t take it away. I hated that you were in so much pain, and that I couldn’t fix it. Believe me, I wish that our lives had turned out the way we wanted. You, me, our daughter. One happy family.

“But maybe that wasn’t what our life was meant to be. I know it’s hard to hear it, sweetheart, but sometimes that’s how things go. What’s most important to know is that this wasn’t your fault. No part of this was your fault. And if that’s what you’re afraid of, I want to assure you that I don’t blame you, Y/N. I never blamed you, and I never will blame you. What you gave me was the most beautiful thing anyone could ever ask for. It may have been brief, but it was perfect. That moment…those few minutes with our daughter…they were perfect.

“And maybe one day we’ll get that moment back. Maybe one day we’ll get to try again. But even if we don’t, that’s okay too. Because if this whole situation has taught me anything, it’s that I don’t want to spend another minute of my life without you. All I really need to be truly happy is you. And though it may seem like this ache will never go away, I promise you it will. I promise that I will never stop loving you, and I promise that we can get through this. Together.

“Please, Y/N. If this is you and you’re out there, come home. Please. Come back home to me. I have nothing in my life if I don’t have you. I love you so much, and I want to help make this right. If you get this, if you’re listening…remember that I love you. Always have, always will.”

The message ended, but you hardly noticed as you sunk forward in your seat, your face buried in your hands, as sobs wracked your body. You always knew that Spencer had loved you unconditionally, but to hear it all laid out there like that…you couldn’t understand why you even left in the first place. How could you have left someone like that? How could you have believed a man like that would ever blame you for something you both knew deep down wasn’t truly your fault? How could you even be considering leaving behind the best thing to ever happen to you?

When you had lost your daughter, you thought your life was over. You thought there was no way either of you could ever come back from this. But you had evidently severely underestimated your husband and all the good he truly had to offer you. He didn’t blame you. He wasn’t angry about what happened. All he wanted was you, back in his arms, safely. Who were you to deny him that? Who were you to walk away from a love like that?

You glanced down at the glittering band on your left hand. You’d always said that you would never give your heart away to just anyone. It had to be someone truly special. Someone who would never hurt you like you’d been hurt in the past. And you knew, five years ago, when Spencer had slipped that band over your finger, when he had made that promise to love you for better or for worse, you always assumed he would mean it. And now this was it. This was the proof you needed. For better or for worse. That’s what you had told each other.

It took some time to calm yourself down, but once your crying had stopped, you found your mind to be clear. You knew what you had to do now. This self-destruction was getting nowhere. You knew the healing process was going to be long and it was going to be hard. But you also knew that with your sweet, loving husband by your side, there was nothing you two couldn’t overcome, so long as you overcame it together.

It was late when you finally pulled into the driveway. You half-expected Spencer to be asleep, or maybe even still at work. You knew how he had a tendency to stay late when his head was too full and he wasn’t ready to face home. However, to your surprise, as you got out of the car, the porch light suddenly flicked on. Seconds later, the front door creaked open, and there he stood, looking about as disheveled as you (clearly neither of you had been doing a lot of sleeping lately). But as you stepped closer, you saw it: for the first time since this all happened, his eyes lit up at the sight of you. As if nothing brought him more joy than the sight of you right here, right now.

“Y/N…” he whispered, as if he couldn’t believe you were really here. You opened your mouth to respond, but found yourself unable, and instead fell gratefully into his welcoming arms. And as he held you tightly, nuzzling his head into your neck, as you sobbed on his shoulder, clinging to him for dear life, you realized that this was truly where you belonged. Things would get better in the end, so long as you had Spencer.

It may have taken forty-seven minutes for you to lose your child, but it only took about forty-seven seconds for you to realize that not all had been truly lost in the world.

Damage

Summary: Bucky and the team don’t realize the damage they caused until you snap. Will they be able to fix it?

Warnings: Depression, yelling, angst. but FLUFFY AT THE END.

Note: This is my first ever fanfiction writing so please bear with me. :)

You know that feeling you get when you had your first heartbreak? Or what it feels like to never feel good enough? Or maybe you might feel a part of your soul has died? 

That is how you feel, and have felt for years. You just were good at hiding it. Until he came along. Bucky Barnes. You feel in love with him in the beginning because he made you feel worth it. But every fairytale doesn’t have a happy ending. Go figure it would happen to you.

“Hey Y/N!” Bucky made you jump 5 feet in the air. That’s when you noticed your surroundings, you were on the couch in the main living room with all your co-workers. Your eyes didn’t sparkle anymore, your hair is up and greasy, your skin is paler, and you just look dead. You wore comfortable clothes. Your favorite sweater, some leggings and some knee socks.

“yes?” you whispered to Bucky but not looking anywhere but at the full cup of tea in your hands, that has gone cold by now. “What’s wrong with you?” Bucky asked with a irritated voice. God knew that you were to weak emotionally to send him an angry glare and tell him off. Instead you just gave up and stood up slowly, walked to the exit and turned around with a blank face and no emotions in your eyes as you said..

“I want to die. I want to punch you and tell you how every “nickname” you give me bring me down, I want to never leave my room but most importantly I wish you all would stop treating me like i can take every insult you throw at me. I’M NOT GLASS BUT I SURE AS HELL AM NOT A BRICK WALL EITHER. I’M HUMAN WHICH MEANS I HAVE LIMITS! OH AND ANOTHER THING STOP BEING SO DAMN VAIN! ALL YOU CARE ABOUT IS YOUR FEELINGS NOT ANYONE ELSE!” by the end of your confession you had tears down your face and the whole team looked at their feet, knowing you were right. They could get a little rough with their “teasing” as they called it. It was all true, they would call you names that made you insecure.\

One time Sam and Steve “jokingly” wouldn’t let you come to club with them because they didn’t like the way you looked. You cried the entire weekend.  Natasha and Wanda would always tease you about losing weight every time you went shopping with them.  Tony called you stupid.  Bruce always snapped at you. Even when you didn’t talk.Vision means well but when he made the comment of it not making sense for you to be here because you aren’t a great assassin or you don’t have powers, you then tumbling into your depression.

They didn’t cause you to have depression, you’ve been diagnosed with clinical depression since you were 15 so it’s not new but that doesn’t make it right. 

But Bucky was the worst because you loved him. He made you insecure in the worst ways. You are an extrovert, silly, and you loved yourself at one point. But he just didn’t stop, so you shut yourself down.

Bucky stood there in shock but then it turned angry.Oh hell no.

“If you can’t take a damn joke then you shouldn’t be an Avenger Y/N. If you are depressed then get help, not put your problems on us. Don’t blame us for the chemical imbalance in your brain. I don’t know why Fury even brought you here. You are worthless.” Bucky stated calmly, though it was angry and irritated. 

You stood there, then it happened. 

You snapped

You laughed in his face. Full on laughed. Everyone was shocked by Bucky’s response but when they saw yours they got really worried. You had tears coming down your face from how hard you were laughing, you finally stopped and walked up to him at arms length. And with a cold stare and a snarl on your lips, you slapped him across the face. 

“You ASSHOLE. You want to talk about ME not being an Avenger. You’re THE DAMN WINTER SOLDIER YOU FUCKED UP PRICK. YOU DO NOT AND WILL NOT BLAME THIS ON ME. YOU CAME HERE BROKEN AND WE HELPED YOU AND YOU THINK I SHOULD’NT BE AN AVENGER. OH PLEASE! I CAN’T GET HELP YOU DICK. IT’S CALLED CLINICAL DEPRESSION FOR A REASON. IT WILL NEVER GO AWAY! You don’t know anything about me or my problems because you were so absorbed with yourself and you didn’t think when you called me those horrible nicknames. Loser. Freak. Weirdo… you whispered the last nickname because that hurt worse. By now you were drained and everyone noticed how pale you were and how fragile you looked. 

It’s their fault

You backed away from Bucky, who looked more shocked and confused, and you ran to your room. 

..

….

…..

“We fucked up.” Steve finally spoke. If it was a normal day, everyone would have laughed at him and told him to watch his language. But today was nothing but gloom and guilt for the team. Even Bucky. No,especially Bucky.  

 “What do we do?” Tony whispered, afraid of his own voice. Everyone pondered for hours until Wanda spoke up. 

“We heal her. We watch what we say. Y/N isn’t one who puts faith into words but rather actions so we clean up the mess we made and start acting like her friends like we should’ve done.” Everyone agreed to Wanda’s response and one by one headed to their rooms except Natasha and Bucky. 

“You love her.” Nat stated. They both sat their with their hands in their lap and looking at their shoes as if they found them fascinated. She looked in front of her watching Bucky slowly and painfully nod.

She stood up and told him something simple.

“Then show it. Because I’ll be damned if i treat her anything less like a sister again.” She walked towards her room ready to beat herself up all night. 

You spent the last couple days locked up in your room with some Disney movies and a bottle of Vodka helping you get the strength to face everyone again. Especially Bucky.

You got dressed and made sure to wear over-sized clothes, you didn’t feel right wearing something skin tight or anything near that. You hated your body again. With a sigh and a shot of Vodka you walked out of your room with your head down and playing with the strings on your sleeves. You reached the movie room and sat down in the middle of the couch and asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to play the saddest movie on Netflix. You buried yourself in the blankets you left there last week. When the movie was just about to start, the team all piled in the room. You began to get up and take your leave thinking they wanted a movie night. You were about to take a step toward the door when Bucky pushed you right back down on your previous spot and sat on your right and put your feet on his lap while he gently pushed your shoulder so you where laying down. Everyone sat on the other couches or floor. You were still scared to talk and still confused. When you opened your mouth to object Bucky shushed you signalling that the movie was about to start. You nodded and began watching the movie. 

Cyberbully, how ironic. 

The whole team was in tears as the movie ended and you were on the verge of crying but didn’t want to cry again in front of Bucky. Bucky however was crying silently and gripping your ankles like his live depended on it. The lights came back on and Tony asked you why would you be watching this. You shrugged and went to get up but Bucky didn’t let you. 

“We fucked up.” Steve said for the second time that month. You chuckled dryly as you allowed a couple of stray tears to fall. You nodded and realized what they are doing about it and your heart pulled a little. They are fixing their mistakes.

Wanda nodded at you, hearing your thoughts as they were so strong with pain and hurt. She started to read your mind the week of your outburst and she cried every time because of the raw emotions that you gave away. She envies you. You’re everything she wants to be. 

“Fix it and then we’ll talk.” You replied softly and ripped your legs away from Bucky’s grip and walked to your room feeling drained already. After that night they did just that,they fixed it. By the end of a year you were almost your old self again. You were closer with Wanda, Natasha, and Bucky. Wanda and Natasha had told you they brought you down because their mind is overflowing with self-doubt and before they realized it they took it out on you. It took some time but you forgave them and the team. Bucky made sure everyday that you knew how much he thought you were beautiful, smart, and kind. You were happy. Everything was okay again especially since Bucky asked you to be his “doll” as he called it. That day he kissed you and told you he will never bring you down again. You agreed knowing it won’t happen again. You kissed him with all the love you have for this metal man. As you released his lips, much to his dismay, you sighed and softly breathed out, “ I’m happy again.” With that he smiled so beautifully that you swore you loved him more. 

And you continued to love him…

And Bucky’s and your kids…

And your team…

Until the end of the line.

anonymous asked:

Hi! :) After the no Fitzsimmons nonsense of this season, are they seriously thinking about separate them AGAIN or even break them up?? They have done nothing as a couple, except crying... and let's face it the apartment thing was a prank. I won't lie, I won't take it anymore, if the season begins with them apart, I will shut down the tv... If it is a "forever love" but they only show it the first day and in the very last ep without nothing in-between, following the journey is useless. :/ :(

Hi Anon!

We don’t know what they are going to do with Fitzsimmons when we first come back…there is a very good chance that the writers don’t know what they are going to do either.  I think that they have an endgame in mind…and its a matter of what route they take to get there.   And as they go into Season 5 they stand at a fork in the road as to what direction they want to take.  

Its okay to feel upset and even betrayed right now.  I did, and I still do a bit.  I’m getting better as I re watch and have a few metas under my belt.  But I definitely am going to be a lot more careful with anything they tell us from now on…good and bad.  I do hope the writers and show runners are more careful too.  Seeing the hurt.  IE don’t put things out there you don’t intent on paying off or worse lead us to believe it will be paid off when you very well know you won’t.

The way I’m looking at it is if they were going to break them up we would have seen the break up in the finale.   We saw Philinda take the step back, if Fitzsimmons were going to do the same I think we would have had a heartbreaking scene where Fitz pushed her away and said that he needed time.  But we didn’t.   We got a scene where he point blank said that there his his love for Jemma would never fade and that there was only room in his heart for her.  With the “other woman” who had orchestrated things so that she would be his “whole world” sitting right next to him and she meant NOTHING romantically to him.  Nothing.  He had the same amount of time worth of memories and “transferred feelings” for Ophelia as he did Jemma, and Jemma won hands down.

Originally posted by alfonsosherrera

We saw Jemma go through hell to get him back.  That her feelings hadn’t changed either, that she didn’t blame him for anything.  It wasn’t him.  And she saw that affirmation as well.  

Did we get a chance to see THAT desperately needed conversation.  No.  And not gonna lie or sugar coat it.  That totally sucks and the writers dropped the ball.  Not only did they run out of time, I think they honestly thought that what they did was “enough’ of a pay off.   Don’t get me wrong, that pod scene is now one of my all time favorite scenes.  It was amazing and powerful…and had that been the last thing we saw of Fitzsimmons this season I think most of the fandom would be good right now.  Because there it ended with them holding each other in that silent affirmation that they were there for each other through it all.   They really had no idea how much of a toll the Framework Arc would take on the Fandom.  And in the past we really haven’t been a hard fandom to please.  They are used to giving us epic moments that are spread out and we’re content to gif the heck out of it for a few months.  But we’re expecting more now because Fitzsimmons have grown both as characters and in their relationship and we want to see moments that reflect that.  

We did get some great moments, where they HUGE moments we had all been excited about going into the season?  Again,no.  But in more of Fitzsimmons fashion it was those little moments that spoke to their love and deep connection.

  • Bed cuddles
  • Adorable in the lab with the boxes “Cue Jemma Gasping”
  • Love Nest Shopping
  • Fight
  • “She’s out there all alone and I’m gone”/the ENTIRE team affirming how much they mean to each other.
  • Beautiful Reunion hugs
  • Fitzsimmonsing to stop Eli and double gun shot
  • Tormenting Talbot
  • Comfort Kiss
  • I mean the whole of 12 for me I just love WITH bonus “Your the best” face grab kiss.
  • “Don’t do that” with you didn’t die hugs and working together
  • Comforting Fitz and we’ll fix this together
  • Rip our hearts out but yet look he was thinking about Marriage before this all went to hades.
  • Jemma digging myself out of a grave to get to my man Anne Simmons
  • “If you do this I lose him forever” “I love him”
  • Pain, more pain, but we started to suspect that AIDA had stolen Fitzsimmons relationship for herself. along with Fitz.
  • Uniting behind our collective hate for Papa Fitz and cheering Jemma on as he went after him….after totally sneaking out when Daisy said they had to leave him behind.
  • More pain but Jemma would rather die than say she meant nothing to him.
  • Fitz woke up from a nightmare he was the monster in we need to get to him
  • Confirmation AIDA stole Fitzsimmons relationship for herself
  • Leopold “I”ll only ever love Jemma” James Fitz….with Jemma hearing it.
  • Beautiful reunion crying hugs
  • Tricking the obsessed, crazy android with a fake fight.
  • Jemma getting to unload a ton of bullets into AIDA
  • FItzsimmons getting to watch The Rider and Dad Off Front runner Coulson take care of the contrived roadblock in epic fashion.  
  • Jemma’s “amen” to that they weren’t letting him face whatever alone, didn’t blame him, and were going to help him heal.  

I likely missed some but we had something in nearly every single episode this season.  Again, no not the big sweep us off the feet and make us swoon traditional shipper moments.  But the more quiet Fitzsimmons ones we’ve had all along.  Again, I’m not saying I wouldn’t love me a really nice over the top shipper moment (because really writers would one good proper kiss have killed you, no), but they did give us something in nearly every single episode (which is uncommon for a show like this) and I would be bereft if I didn’t mention that here.  

Yes, they took the Love Nest from us…and now I know why.  Because its not time for Endgame yet…they let us and them get THIS CLOSE.  Not only were they looking to move off base but Shield was back on the up and up, they didn’t have to hide anymore.   Then,they and we lost it.  Jed and Mo constantly talk in interviews about the cost of the job and the toll it can take, how Fitzsimmons is one of the best ways for them to show it, this was a way of showing that.   We started the season so close and now they’ve been pulled deeper into the shadows by whoever took them than they were before.  And I’ll take losing the Love Nest to losing them together…sorry breakfast nook.   

  • The Love Nest is the Seychelles of this Season, that thing we lost because of the crap that happened.
  • This continues to give pull to my theory that eventually Fitzsimmons will say enough is enough and choose each other over the job once and for all.  And they had that decision taken from them in this finale as they were whisked way by who knows who to god knows where.

As ‘betrayed’ as I feel by the writers right now believe it or not I do have faith that they are going somewhere with all this.  That Fitzsimmons with Perthshire, Wedding, and Babies is all in the cards.  But its Endgame and until they are ready to have that happen, they will continue to put roadblocks in the way.   I’m honestly okay with roadblocks to endgame but they do need to give us Hope in between and need to let them face the next ones together as a couple.  

The one that seems to have been set up is now getting Fitz to forgive himself.  They’ve set it up that Jemma is the one who will help him do that.  Real couples face difficult situations all the time and don’t break up because of it.  This is their chance to show a couple dealing with a traumatic event while staying together and helping each other heal.   I don’t think they’ve set up them breaking up and getting back together, that is a traditional trope and if anything AOS doesn’t do traditional tropes in the traditional way.

  • Take the “love triangle” we had this season.  The ‘traditional’ or easy way of doing this would have been for Fitz to fall for AIDA in the real world.  But NOPE in order for it to even happen…he had to be kidnapped, brainwashed, and manipulated while being thrown in to a nightmare hell world designed by a Robot who wanted his mind and his relationship with Jemma.  

I do have concerns they will have them split up physically or make it so even if they are together the situation they’ve been forced into is somehow keeping them apart.  Be it they have physically been taken to separate locations or whoever took them won’t allow them to be together outside the lab kind of thing (though Coulson seemed to have some sort of freedom on there).  

I know none of what I just said will take the pain away or ease that distrust for the writers now.  They made their bed and have to lie in it.   A lot of this comes down to us and them having very different definitions/expectations of words like reward and soon.  Its okay to be tired of being given the run around too, because I’m there too.  They have made it so its more frustrating than fun.  They crossed a line thinking what they had was enough to make up for it, and for most of the battered fandom it wasn’t.  I’m ready to see them be a couple dealing with this stuff, not fighting to get back to each other.  There are plenty of interesting stories to tell there.  

However if you really feel empassioned and want to make your voice heard you can do that. Just like when we were fighting for renewal.  And I can not emphasize this enough that if you choose to send feedback to do it  POLITELY, POSITIVELY, AND RESPECTFULLY! We learned from AIDA that throwing a tantrum doesn’t get what you want.   

  • ABC has a feed back form that you can fill out on its shows.   We busted this out a few months ago to fight for renewal, now you can do it if you want to send in your opinion.  HERE is a post that has the link and instructions…just change from renewal to your thoughts on the story. 
  • Tweet at ABC and Agents of Shield.  Using #fitzsimmons and #agentsofshield
  • DO NOT tweet at Jed, Mo, Colo, Mark, the other writers, or the cast personally with this stuff. 

Going forward I’m going to be incredibly careful with ANYTHING we get from Jed and Mo.  I pretty much already disregard anything from the Jeff’s since they troll us so much.  I don’t want to get burned again.  I will not go into next season expecting kisses, romantic dinners, and heartfelt conversations about recovery, love, and forgiveness.  That is what fan fic is for.  

Rather I’ll watch for and appreciate those small moments while reveling in the big ones.  They like to surprise us with the BIG moments, Sandwich, Maybe there is 2.22, Sunrise/Perthshire 3.7, First Kiss 3.8 (we wouldn’t have seen that one coming a mile away had they not released that pic to EW), Handhold in 3.15,  Kisses 3.17, Undercover and ensuing sexy times 3.18 (again we had the undercover tease and waited MONTHS to see that…and most of you likely though I was downright crazy for that prediction too) Love Nest 4.4, Thinking of proposing 4.15.  So I’m going to sit back and wait for the next one to surprise me!  

And I will hope that the writers see they did hurt us and dial back the trolling, teasing, and pain.  Don’t tease things they have no intention of delivering or be a bit more honest about the timeline of such things (cough engagement cough).   Not only throughout hiatus but into next season.  

2.20: aka Wow Dean really doesn’t think much of himself >.>

I have a tag for that that’s chock full of posts on all the relevant points in this episode to s12…

also aka deception and lies

DEAN What? You think these suckers can really grant wishes?
SAM I don’t know. I guess they’re powerful enough. But not exactly like Barbara Eden in harem pants. I mean, Djinn have been feeding off people for centuries. They’re all over the Koran.
DEAN My God. Barbara Eden was hot, wasn’t she? Way hotter than that Bewitched chick.

Yet another instance (like learning sirens aren’t all hot chicks) where Dean’s misconception bites him in the ass. Then again, he sort of had his own “hot chick” in his djinn dream. There just wasn’t anything real about it. The djinn was still a dude.

How many times in s12 has someone accused Dean of drinking or being drunk when he’s been stone cold sober? Because that’s a running “joke” in this episode. I pointed this out to Mr. Mittens and his response was “Well, he’s been drinking djinn. Get it? Gin?” Mr. Mittens thinks he’s hilarious, but it’s true. Even “Sam” said it to Dean…

(also of note, there’s A LOT in my 12.11 tag that’s relevant to this episode as well)

I’ve typically discussed what this episode means for Dean’s low opinion of himself, and I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before, but heck if Dean’s dream version of Sam isn’t just about the most painful thing ever.

Aside from the heartbreaking fact that Sam and Dean have nothing in common and aren’t close at all in this world, that Dean’s always been a “troublemaker” and sort of a jerk, the version of Sam that Dean’s brain creates has to be based on his own perceptions of how he sees Sam in reality.

Sam wanted to have that normal life, go to law school, and be able to live without ever knowing the supernatural existed at all. And because of that, the entire foundation for everything else in their lives has been wiped away. Dean’s protective instinct for Sam wouldn’t have been a part of their lives.

It’s not like hunting was the only thing they had in common or the only thing that bound them together as family. It just happened to be the foundation of everything ELSE. 

If they’d grown up “normal,” the way Mary wanted, Dean may have been able to imagine a different sort of relationship with Sam than this warped and practically nonexistent version from his dream. But they didn’t, and Dean has no frame of reference for even imagining such a scenario where he was anything other than the person he’s always been. But in his dream, with no other foundation to base his relationship with Sam on, with hunting and the supernatural gone from their lives entirely, there’s just… nothing there.

*stops to cry for five minutes*

(what a freaking hollow and horrible thing, like Dean was willing to sacrifice his own life and happiness to give Sam a shot to achieve HIS version of happiness– no hunting, no supernatural, college, normal life.)

SAM Great. Just… stop the car.
DEAN It’s the truth, Sam. All right, there are things out there in the dark. There – there – there are bad things. There are nightmare things. And people have to be saved and if we don’t save them, then nobody will.
SAM Look, I wanna help you, all right. I-I really, really do, but you’re having some kind of psychotic breakdown, so, I … just –
DEAN I wish.
SAM picks up his phone and starts dialing a number. DEAN rolls down his window, grabs SAM’s phone, throws it out, and then rolls up the window again.
SAM What the hell was that, Dean? That was my phone!
DEAN I’m not going to a rubber room, Sammy. And we got work to do.
SAM What? I was just trying to help you out, Dean. I don’t, I don’t want you to get yourself hurt.
DEAN What? You protect me?
SAM Yeah!
DEAN (laughs) Oh, that’s hilarious. Why don’t you just sit tight and try not to get us both killed.

In his dream, “Sam” is 100% convinced that Dean is delusional. He tries to get Dean to stop, to “listen to reason” and to “accept that he’s not seeing reality.”

This is how Dean believes that Sam sees him. And really, it says more about Dean himself, because this dream reality was based entirely on Dean’s perceptions and beliefs, warped to fit into this version of reality the djinn forced him to experience.

One where Sam doesn’t trust him. Where Sam thinks he knows the truth– about Dean, about life in general– but the truth about Dean isn’t this surface level “jerk” who stole his prom date and swiped his ATM card, that he has nothing in common with and doesn’t care about anyone.

Basically Dean’s subconscious is calling out “Performing Dean” proving to himself that it IS a performance. That this wasn’t who Dean really is, just the veneer he tries to project to the world.

Because what we DO see of Dean when he’s alone in this dream world is pretty much the relaxed and comfortable version of Dean we all know lurks under the surface of the macho bad boy hunter he shows the world.

The guy who can’t let go of the fact that in this world he had nothing to prove to himself that he was worth a good god damn. Everyone he’d ever saved, everyone he’d ever protected, had suffered and died in this universe. And that was too much of a trade for him to accept, even if it meant giving up Mary for. Even if it meant Sam wouldn’t have his shot at the life he’d always proclaimed to want. Even if Dean had a shot to be “respectable.”

And Carmen, the imaginary girl from the El Sol poster with a generic blank slate of a personality, tells Dean she loves him… because all he really wants is for someone to love him. Anyone. Who it is almost doesn’t matter at all.

SAM Yeah… I thought it was supposed to, to be this perfect fantasy.
DEAN It wasn’t. It was just a wish. I wished for Mom to live. That Mom never died, we never went hunting and you and me just never uh… you know.
SAM Yeah. Well, I’m glad we do. And I’m glad you dug yourself out, Dean. Most people wouldn’t’ve had the strength, would have just stayed.
DEAN Yeah… Lucky me. I gotta tell you though, man. You know, you had Jess. Mom was gonna have grandkids…
SAM Yeah, but… Dean… it wasn’t real.
DEAN I know. But I wanted to stay. (DEAN looks sad, lost.) I wanted to stay so bad. I mean, ever since Dad… all I c– all I can think about is how much this job’s cost us. (pause) We’ve lost so much. We’ve… sacrificed so much.
SAM But people are alive because of you. (DEAN scoffs.) It’s worth it, Dean. It is. It’s not fair, and… you know, it hurts like hell, but… it’s worth it.

Bones used to think that bad dreams were things easily brushed off. That he could wake up and blink the images away. 

He never got them as a kid. A damn lucky thing. Even after his father he was more haunted by the guilt than my any lingering nightmares. 

It was until he was delivered a body bag in his sickbay and unzipped it to reveal one James T. Kirk, perpetual pain in his ass and the love of his life, that he lost sleep to something other than Jim’s flailing sharp elbows and knees (kid kicked in his sleep and often Bones slept on the couch). 

He’d have the nightmares for weeks. Sometimes he would wake up before they got bad and other times he would be frozen as it played out, always a different variation of the body bag scene, always terrifying and heartbreaking. 

Sometimes he dreamed of being next to Spock, pounding on the protective glass that separated the warp core and radiation and Jim from the rest of the ship. He never asked Spock about Jim’s last words or what had happened down there but his mind was able to create all sorts of scenarios. To fill in the very awful blanks. 

He was still having nightmares when they got on the ship. Ones that he never remembered when he woke up but would creep up on him throughout the day. Hair would stand up on the back of his neck as someone said something that reminded him of it, flashing him back to the dream. Or he would look at a certain empty biobed, see a flash of black, the grey of the radioactive containment suits and his stomach would roll. 

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anonymous asked:

this is angsty and sad but could you maybe write about kylo and hux having a really bad fight and kylo says something really mean about something personal hux told him and only him. and hux just shuts down emotionally and starts treating kylo as general hux and not armitage. kylo notices and apologizes profusely and begs for hux to come back to him.

Kylo is exceedingly angry that the doors on board the Finalizer are sliding, preventing him from slamming his in Hux’s face.

“Stop following me, Hux,” Kylo spits over his shoulder, throwing his helmet across his room.

“Not until you talk,” Hux retorts, standing tall behind Kylo, nose in the air. “I want to know why you disobeyed my orders. I specifically told you not to enter the native’s camp until reinforcements arrived.”

Kylo scrunches his nose.

“I knew I could handle it,” he growls, his shoulders feeling heavy with the weight of a failed mission burdening them, the weight of having failed Hux.

“Handle it?” Hux shouts. His arms straighten by his sides, fists clenched. “You could’ve been captured! Or worse, killed! All because you couldn’t listen to me!”

Kylo feels his anger rising. Is Hux questioning his skill? His power? How dare he. Kylo knows he’s more than capable of taking down a target without the aid of Hux’s pitiful troopers. They only get in Kylo’s way, slow down the mission. Kylo knew he could’ve completed the task if Hux hadn’t interfered.

“I knew what I was doing,” Kylo says, still with his back to Hux. “You, on the other hand, may need some further teachings in strategy.”

“Further–? You ignorant–” Hux huffs, sighs. “Ren. For stars sake! There’s nothing wrong with my military methods. It’s you! You don’t know when to quit, you don’t see when a task is too big for you to tackle alone!”

Kylo scrunches his eyes closed. He suddenly hears Luke Skywalker’s voice, chastising little Ben for being too bold in his lightsaber swings.

“You don’t understand,” Kylo mutters. “You never have. You’re blinded by your desire to prove yourself to see my power.”

Hux chokes on air.

“I’m trying to understand you, Ren.” Hux’s voice is soft as he reaches a hand out as though to touch Kylo, but hesitates. “Let me help–”

Kylo spins around, spitting at Hux, blood boiling in his veins at the anger that’s consuming him.

“You could never understand me, you bastard runt!”

The moment the words leave Kylo’s dry lips, he feels the air shift. Hux visibly recoils, taking a single step backwards, eyes wide, mouth hanging slightly agape. He looks distraught; a blank look in his pale green eyes that Kylo knows he’s caused.

“Hux?” Kylo’s voice shakes. His hand twitches by his side, beckoning him to lift it and reach out to Hux, but Kylo doesn’t. He can already see the cracks he’s caused in Hux’s heart; he doesn’t need to cause more on his skin. “Armitage, I’m sorry, I-I didn’t–”

But Hux merely turns sharply on his heels and exits, but not before Kylo sees a tear trickle down the cheek of the man he would tear apart the galaxy for.

With an anguished yell, Kylo sinks to his knees, shattering everything in his wake.

As the next few days pass, Kylo tries his best to filter out Hux’s pain but he admits that it’s difficult. Hux has always had a loud mind, seemingly even more so when his heart is aching.

He stands at the side of the bridge in his usual spot, face covered by his mask, his gaze hidden from all. He stares at Hux, watching the way his General moves, unnerved by the rigidity of Hux’s lithe body; the body that Kylo knows so well–

“Master Ren.”

Kylo turns, having been lost in thought, heart thumping at hearing Hux’s voice again.

“Hux! I–”

“Supreme Leader Snoke is requesting a meeting with you immediately,” Hux says, his tone as cold as his demeanour.

Kylo can still see the hurt in Hux’s eyes. He tries not too look deep into them for too long for fear of his guilt overwhelming him.

“Very well,” Kylo replies, breath heavy through his mask. “Hux, I’m sorry, let me just–”

“If that’s everything, Master Ren. I’m a busy man. I haven’t time for your idle chat.”

“Armitage, please.”

Hux snarls. “Refrain from using that name in my presence, Master Ren. I prefer to go by ‘General’ amongst my officers.”

Kylo can’t help his hands from shaking, his knees from weakening under the pressure of the General’s harsh stare. He can feel Hux’s distress emitting from his body, rolling off him in vicious waves. It’s not anger; it’s sadness, a resonating heartbreak that feels like betrayal more than rage. Kylo swallows hard.

It’s all his fault.

Three more days of being given the cold shoulder, and Kylo feels like he’s going to go mad with grief. He kneels quietly on the floor, gaze locked on the tiles below him, the sound of his heavy breathing his only company. He waits, stomach twisting every time a set of food steps approach the door, body tending in preparation for the agony he’s about to face.

It’s a familiar heel-click that catches Kylo’s distracted attention, a heavy footfall of leather boots getting closer to the room he’s waiting in. The door swishes open but Kylo doesn’t look up. He doesn’t dare.

“Before you scream and throw me out of the airlock, I need you to listen to me,” Kylo says, eyes scrunched closed, waiting for the shouting to begin, but he hears the door swish shut. “I’m nothing without you. I don’t need you to understand me, I just need you beside me because I don’t know who I am when you’re not here. I’m freezing…and burning.”

Kylo lifts his ungloved hands to stare at his palms, failing to recognise the patterns on his skin.

“I didn’t think anything would ever tear us apart. I wanted it to be us against the galaxy for eternity. I never dreamed it’d be me to push you away. I’ll do anything, Hux. Just come back to me. I can’t do this. I can’t. Please don’t make me carry on without you.”

Tears begin dripping down Kylo’s cheeks and onto his open hands, water pooling in the centre. His shoulders tremble, begging the Force with every fibre of his soul to allow Hux to forgive him for his disgusting behaviour.

“Ren.”

Kylo opens his eyes, seeing Hux kneeling in front of him, his own eyes filled with tears, his own ungloved hands trembling as he reaches up to touch Kylo’s damp cheeks.

“My ridiculous fool,” Hux says, and Kylo throws his arms around his General’s neck, sobbing into his shoulder. He feels Hux return his embrace, holding him tightly, as though it’s the first time in a millennia that they’ve touched one another. “I’ll always forgive you.”

one dance

↳ best friends au

pairing: jung hoseok | reader
genre: romance, light angst
warnings: theme of heartbreak and implied smut
word count: 8,952
description:  “There are two kinds of people in this world: Hopeless romantics and realists.” Two best friends, dancers since they were in primary school, see the world of love in two completely different ways. But somehow, one dance manages to change the pace of everything for the both of them. 
author’s note: slightly re-edited!

Originally posted by huang-zitao

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Wishing on Stars: Prologue

Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: M; NSFW
Warning: n/a
Summary: He wanted her to leave a mark. He wanted to be marked by her. He wanted to be marked as hers. He wanted to belong to her and he wanted her to belong to him. He wanted a lot of things in fact: her hand in his and cuddling together and sharing lazy kisses and her wearing his sweatshirts and-

But this was just a good shag between mates. That’s all it was.

Beta: The lovely hanluvr (aka Bria).

Next: -Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3-

Rose flopped down on his lumpy mattress and let out a long sigh. “I need to get laid.”

John didn’t bother to look up from where his eyes were focused on his textbook, but was unable to keep the frown from turning his lips downwards. Tonelessly, he said, “Then get laid.”

Rose pursed her lips. “S’not so easy, you know.” John wanted to disagree. He was positive there couldn’t possibly be a short supply of men who wouldn’t give an arm and a leg for a chance to shag Rose Tyler. 

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Two Roads Meet - Chapter 15

A/N: this is shAMefully late im sorry wow i suck

Summary: Phil Lester, a shy, poetic hipster, is talented at a lot of things; social interaction not being one of them. But when his best friend Tom, a popular socialite, wins a competition for a Road Trip, Phil suddenly finds himself meeting a whole new group of friends, including the total stud Dan Howell; a flirt-machine in a leather jacket. But will Phil’s awkwardly interesting personality intrigue Dan, or completely freak him out?

DISCLAIMER: Obviously (and unfortunately) everything I have written is entirely fictional. I am not claiming Phan is real

LINK TO THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

——————————————————-

Nothing else was mentioned about the morning incident Dan and I were left to contend with, disregarding the odd glance and smirk from either Tom or Esmée. After pulling apart rapidly, neither Dan or I could pass it off as anything more than “we got cold.”
I couldn’t have been more thankful it wasn’t anyone else who had caught us, though. Particularly a certain girl we had been making the effort to avoid. We were simply left to pray that neither Tom or Esmée would bring anything up, although I’d given them the benefit of the doubt. Tom in particular.
“Do you think they noticed…?” I mumbled in a whisper to Dan after we’d been left in the tent alone.
“Well, given the fact we were woken up by their giggles, I think they might be a little familiar with the fact we fell asleep like that.” Dan rolled his eyes at my accidentally stupid thought.
“I hope they don’t act too differently around us.” I worried, nibbling at the loose skin on the side of my thumbnail.
“They were already acting like our personal shippers without encouragement. I don’t think any change would be too drastic.” Dan smirked, tidying up his fringe.

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anonymous asked:

Hi hi!!! 👋 uumm could you do a scenario about Luffy, Ace, Zoro, and Shanks reaction to finding out that their S/O was raped? Also! Adore your blog! 😊

{ thank you so much! 

putting it under read more bc tw:rape, however I don’t think that it’s really explicit or angsty. I wrote it like it happened in the past before s/o even knew their amazing bf, so I guess that’s why. I wanted to write something darker, but omg my kokoro would be brokoro so I just went the easy way. 

Let me know if you want something darker/more descriptive! And again I wrote scenario for imagine thing god }


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how do you write like you’re running out of time?

So this fic idea has been poked and prodded at for a while now, but I figured I should quit hoarding this dumb little thing and share it. This is a fic for @lopoddityart — because they’re only my most favorite fan artist ever for MLP, and their characters are superb.

This drabble is nowhere near perfect, just some feels I felt for Artemis.

Here goes nothing.

(i also want to make a note i don’t speak german. i used google translate.)

—–

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anonymous asked:

GOM + Kagami broke up w/ their s/o and try to win them back because they realize how much they mean to them

I finished school today so there will be more regular updates yay!

WARNING: Spoiler for Akashi’s scenario if you haven’t finished KnB. 

Kuroko: “_____-san, is it okay if we talk for a moment?” His soft-spoken words was like music to your ears. Despite the bustling students that were rushing to get home around you, all you heard was him. 

Leaving Seirin with Kuroko felt nostalgic. The only difference between the past and the present was that your fingers weren’t entwined with his. You weren’t one to dwell on the past but when it came to Kuroko, it was different. Walking behind him reminded you of that day - the day he walked out on you, on your relationship. You tried to shake off the thought by staring down at the fallen cherry blossoms that enveloped the path in a pink sea. 

“_____-san?” Kuroko halted for a brief moment to wait for you, only to have you collide into his back. 

“Ah, sorry…” He turned to face you, locking his blue orbs with yours. You pursed your lips, shrinking back a little to hide your embarrassed face. The suspense had made Kuroko feel almost breathless. He was unsure whether this would turn out the way he wanted, but there was nothing worse for him right now than the guilty feeling of not knowing whether you would choose to be by his side again.

“I’ve been doing some thinking and I’d like for us to date again.” The look in his eyes was indescribable - determination, sorrow, regret - it was all there. “I’m just not ready to let you go.” 

Kise: Kise didn’t realise how important you were to him until he had made one of his biggest mistakes ever. He had people bowing at his feet due to his dashing looks. But it didn’t matter. None of them were you. 

You hadn’t talked to Kise much since he had broken up with you. There was the occasional greeting between the two of you but nothing more. His ego was crumbling at the thought of you drifting further away from him. Kise knew he didn’t have time to sulk around when it came to you, he had to act now before you were too far to turn back.  

Walking home alone from school became a regular thing by now. It wasn’t as if Kise had joined you often though since he had basketball practice but he tried most days. 

“_____-cchi! _____-cchi!” Speaking of the devil. The blonde was jogging down the path waving his arms frantically. Before you knew it, he was nuzzling into your shoulder. The sudden contact gave you a warm fuzzy feeling inside. His arms were wrapped firmly around your waist and it didn’t seem like he was going to let go any time soon. 

“Ki-”

His amber eyes flashing you a wink, “_____-cchi, how about we give dating another try?” 

Midorima: Midorima didn’t know what he was feeling and he was reluctant to tell anybody fearing they would mock him. Especially Takao. Oh how he was right. 

“Shin-chan is so in love,” the black haired male cooed. 

“Takao. Shut up.” Despite the harsh comment, Takao still laughed at the shooting guard. 

“Oh, is that _____ I see?” 

“Wh-” There wasn’t a second to react. The mischievous smirk on Takao’s face had proved that he had done something - that’s if you half laying on the floor wasn’t evidence enough. “__-_____! Uh I d-didn’t see you there.” 

“Midorima, that hurt you know. Can’t you be more careful?” You started to pick up your backpack and turn to leave until you heard a voice calling your name. 

“__-_____, wait!” You blinked at the tall figure in front of you. “I-I just wanted to k-know if you…” Midorima began mumbling under his breath and you could see he was trying to avoid your eyes. Despite his confident demeanour on the basketball court, all you could see was a shy teenage boy confessing his feelings. The feelings he kept locked up because he felt it was wrong to ask for you back, especially when he was the one to let you go. 

“Can you speak up? You sound like you’re talking in some alien language.” 

“Ah s-sorry. I said I was w-wondering if you w-wanted to maybe d-date again…p-please.” He shuffled slightly and his bag rustled against his clothing, “Uh, our signs are very compatible you know…”

Aomine: When Aomine broke up with you, he had given the impression that it was best that you didn’t talk to him anymore. But he was truly broken. It was as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest. 

You avoided him like the plague - he was contagious. As much as you desired every part of Aomine Daiki, your breakup told you otherwise. 

The skies were consumed in darkness; ominous clouds that captured the light. Rain splattering against the windowpane. The sounds from the television were washed out from the storm outside. You laid on the couch, propping your head up with your arm. A pounding on the door had you alarmed. It wasn’t as if you were expecting anyone. When you answered the door it was the last person you thought you would see. 

The way his midnight hair stuck to his face, clothes clinging to his toned body. His eyes were hungry - hungry for you. Grabbing your wrist with a firm grip and pushing you against the front door, closing it in the process. Aomine was hunched over you. 

“A-Aomine, wh-what are you doing?” 

He closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. “Don’t call me that. Let’s go back to the way we used to be,” he paused, nibbling softly on your earlobe, “…baby.” 

Murasakibara: Murasakibara and you had started off as friends, then lovers and then friends again. He didn’t agree nor disagree with you wanting to reconcile with him but he did know that after your breakup, you still meant something to the violet giant. 

When you were eating in the cafeteria alone, Murasakibara came and sat with you. His face was blank but you still offered him a small smile. He was munching on a bag of chips in front of you, blatantly staring at you while you continued to eat your lunch. You faked a cough to conceal your slight discomfort. 

“_____-chin, let’s date,” he stated out of the blue, “I want to date _____-chin again.” 

Murasakibara had left you gawking within the matter of minutes, even seconds. But you couldn’t even mutter a single response as he placed a chip in your mouth, lifting your chin up to close your mouth and creating a chewing motion. 

Akashi: You thought. You thought long and hard how a casual stroll to the park turned into a fancy date with your ex. Akashi Seijurou. He was dressed in a, what you assumed to be a very high quality and extremely pricy, black suit with his crimson hair combed back. 

The breakup between you was quick - like a stab to your heart. As time passed, the more painful it became. But you didn’t know that it ended up hurting Akashi more. He hadn’t felt what it was like to lose in a long time. Losing his mother, his game against Seirin and now you. It was purely a coincidence that he saw you out that day. 

Akashi held the door open for you, gesturing for you to enter, “After you.” The whole restaurant was empty. The room screaming elegance and might you add ridiculously expensive. 

You were speechless. “Akashi this is to-”

“You deserve only the finest.”

“Akashi, look, it’s nice of you to invite me out but this all just, well…” 

“I didn’t do this for you _____.” Now you were confused. “I’m saving myself the further heartbreak.” Akashi placed his hand in yours and raised it to his lips, placing a kiss on the top of you hand. “So _____, will you be by my side once more?” 

Kagami: It was hard enough for Kagami to ask you out the first time. Asking for you back turned him into a stuttering mess. If it wasn’t for Riko, the red head would not be standing on the rooftop during the morning assembly. He took deep, slow breaths. 

“Don’t stress Kagami. It’s just like last time. But if you don’t want _____ back, then I guess you better step back and let other people have a shot,” she said in a taunting manner. He narrowed his eyes and turned to look at his coach. Kagami let out a displeased grunt. 

“I, Kagami Taiga, ask _____ to go out with me again…please!” Riko and the rest of the team sniggered behind him. The power forward stepped down from the ledge, avoiding all eye contact from his ‘supportive’ teammates. 

The principle was furious. The students were mumbling amongst themselves. And you. You were desperately trying to hold in the laughter that was building up inside you. 

Loveless and His Best Friend

Summary: Jungkook had been your best friend since entering high school, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that you harbored feeling for him. But, you learn quickly that the boy knows nothing of love–and so you want to be the one to make him learn it.


Writer’s Note: So you know, I was going to make this all one thing. And then I got done writing it and it was 15 pages. So….here it is in two parts. I also feel like I strayed so far away from this person’s request. I’m sorry if this is super horrible dear!! The second part will be up shortly. 

FOR THE ANON THAT LEFT ME THIS MESSAGE (or at least, part of the original message): 

“ a scenario where the girl sings to his best friend the song Fall by Justin Bieber because she is in love with her best friend but her best friend doesn’t believe in love.”

WARNINGS: BULLYING

Part Two


“Jungkook!” You shoved yourself over onto him, your shoulders crashing into each other’s as you both tumbled off your bed and onto the floor in a heap. You had just meant to jostle the boy into studying, but instead you overpowered it and now your face dug into your plush carpet; the damn dark haired boy insisted on toying with you by pulling you closer to his side. “Seriously!” You mumbled as you struggled to twist yourself into a comfortable position. “We need to study!”  Jungkook was too occupied by his entertainment of grabbing your hands, swinging them along in tandem with his lip synching of the song blasting through your speakers. Seeing that you were becoming agitated by his ministrations, he continued them to the point that he could practically see firecrackers in your eyes. Only then did you roll over and break your wrists free from his grip, smacking the back of your fist into his arm.

He shoved you up into a sitting position so he could rest his back against yours, one of his favorite positions to be in when he was around you. Apparently you were comfortable–and warm. “But studying is hard and I’d rather just spend my time goofing off with my best friend.” When he laughed you felt the vibrations of it ricochet through your chest, causing you to bring your knees up so you could pout in secrecy, blaming your red cheeks on the imprints of your kneecaps against your face.

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3

Derek Hale x Reader

Imagine: Derek was adamant on her staying away from the battle. He knew how bad it was going to get because they were dealing with Kate, yet it didn’t resonate with her. He was frustrated by her stubbornness, but he couldn’t let her face the same danger he was going to confront in a few hours. But she goes behind everyone’s back and joins the fight. And in result, she gets badly injured.


“Derek, this isn’t fair! It’s ridiculous!” She protested, her arms flung in the air with frustration. Derek didn’t budge, and continued to stick by his decision. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to stay here. That’s final.” He strictly said, with his arms crossed over his chest. She scoffed at his stern glare. “You don’t get to make decisions for me! I’m a grown woman. I don’t need your permission!” She snapped and angrily shook her finger at him. He huffed and rolled his eyes, “You’re not ready. You’re not strong enough. You’re going to get yourself killed! Stop arguing with me and stay here!” He barked, his eyes glowed of red. Scott and the rest of the pack uncomfortably glanced away from the loud vocal fight. They all sat a good distance away from the fight and yet they felt as if they were stuck in the middle of them. The tension was unbearable and so uncomfortable that no one dared to move a muscle.  

“I have training! I can fight just as well as you! Why the hell does Stiles and Lydia get to go when they are useless on the battlefield! Especially Stiles!” She continued to argue with her voice raised. Stiles quietly scoffed and kicked at his feet with his hands tightened around his bat. Lydia wasn’t fazed, she rolled her eyes and crossed her legs and watched the fight with bored eyes. A deep growl emitted from Derek’s throat, and he bared his canines at her. His hands curled into a fist and he furiously banged his fist into the table, which cracked it in half due to his strength. She flinched and sharply gasped. The outburst was enough to startle the rest of the pack; Scott sprang onto his feet and was ready to break up the fight. “You’re not going! That’s final!” Derek shouted and grabbed his jacket before stomping off into the elevator.

She fought back the tears forming in her eyes as she watched Derek angrily stomp to the elevator. She roughly wiped her tears with the back of her hand before they would fall from her eyes. She knew Derek was leaving for the warehouse, but she wanted to go as well. She couldn’t stand waiting behind and having to constantly worry if her friends would get hurt and come back safe. It made no sense to her that Derek forbade her to even be there to support them.

Scott cleared his throat awkwardly and slowly approached her. He gently squeezed her shoulder and she turned around with teary eyes filled with distressed. “Look, I wouldn’t mind you going but I understand how Derek feels. You should just sit this one out. We’ll call you if we need any help, but I think we got this.” Scott gently explained. She bit back her trembling lips and nodded. “I feel like I can really help.” She shakily explained. “We know and we appreciate it. But we can handle it. Just listen to Derek this one time.” Lydia explained, sending her a sympathetic smile. She shakily sighed and nodded, “Fine. I’ll stay behind. You guys, please be safe.” Her worried eyes blinked back the tears from forming again.

They nodded and they all hugged her before leaving. “I’m somewhat offended you don’t think I can kick ass.” Stiles whispered beside her ear as he hugged her. She chuckled and smiled warmly at him. “Thanks for making me laugh,” She softly said and they slowly pulled away from the hug. He flashed a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. My bat has been in many battles.” He waved his bat at her and waved goodbye before leaving with the rest of the group.

She sighed, once again she was left in silence of her own worries. She held a tight grip of her baton and took a deep breath to calm her nerves, but it didn’t help at all. She wasn’t one give up this easily and she definitely wasn’t one to be obedient. This time was no different. She shook her head and followed after them. She knew where they were going to be, so she kept a good distance. She didn’t want to be caught and have to be sent home again. Plus, she didn’t want them to flip out on her especially after Derek’s explosion.

Derek was the first one to arrive at the warehouse, and he was already so worked up that he knew it would hinder his concentration. But when Scott and the rest showed up with her, he was able to calm down and focus more on the plan. “She didn’t come?” Derek asked as soon as Scott walked through the warehouse door. Scott shook his head, “No, we convinced her to stay.” He replied and returned Derek’s appreciative smile with a small smile. “Alright, let’s all get focused. We need to stay on our feet. We’re fighting to kill. They’re going to be relentless, so if you even hesitate, you’ll die.” Derek sternly warned them. They nodded and prepare both mentally and physically for the storm coming.

She arrived a little later, and saw the other group walking in with Kate as the leader. She crawled behind a tower of boxes and hid behind it. She peeked through a small space to watch the unraveling of the fight. Derek was the first to step up and you could tell he was nervous, despite his calm front. Kate chuckled as she looked over Derek’s shoulder. “That’s what you brought to save you?” She burst into laughter and shook her head. “You’re kidding!” She scanned the nervous group of teens behind Derek. “You’ve got kids fighting your fight. That’s really pathetic,” Her voice was dripping with disdain. “I think you should rethink this whole ordeal, Kate.” Derek calmly said, giving her a chance to call off the fight. “Not a chance.” She swiftly extended her claws mid-sentence and slashed Derek’s chest before he could react.

She watched in horror at Kate’s conniving first move from behind the boxes. Her trembling hands curled into a fist; her nails dug deep into the palm of her hands. Blood was starting to seep through the cuts from the palm of her hands. Yet the pain was the last thing on her mind, because all she could feel is the blazing flame of fury that blinded her from making a smart decision. Just a snap of her wrist, the baton extended and with just a push of a button, the electricity surrounding the baton crackled in activation. Derek jerked back and that’s when the whole battle broke out.

Each side charged at each other with blood boiling aggression. Derek took on Kate and they relentlessly attacked each other. Kira’s sword sliced through the air, expertly danced through the army with her blade. Malia’s claws dug and ripped at the mutated chimeras. Stiles swung his bat, rather clumsily, but Malia fought near Stiles and extended help whenever it was needed.

Just watching Derek slowly losing his stamina was heartbreaking. She didn’t want to risk losing Derek, but she didn’t want to distract the rest of them with her sudden appearance. However, when Kate stabbed Derek’s stomach with her claws, she rushed out to attack Kate without another thought. Derek was hunched over on the ground, holding onto his blood gushing stomach. He groaned in agony as the wound continued to bleed, the healing process was a lot slower because it came from Kate. She sprinted towards Kate, holding her baton tightly and whipped at her. But Kate’s werewolf powers permitted her to easily dodge her attacks. Derek glanced up and to his shock, (y/n) was viciously fighting off Kate.

“No!” He shouted and reached up stop her from continuing the duel with Kate. But that moment of distraction gave Kate the opportunity to plunge her claws into (y/n)’s stomach. Derek’s eyes widen in horror as (y/n)’s body jerked back and froze from the sudden attack. She dropped straight to the ground once Kate pulled her claws out. Kate smirked distastefully down at her and wiped her bloody claws on her jeans and proceeded to fight the other wolves.

Derek crawled over to (y/n) and pulled her in his arms. His trembling hand cupped her pale cheek, “No, no, no! Why are you here? I told you to stay home!” He scolded her, his voice shook of panic. The lingering pain from the wound swam through her body, alerting every single nerve. The blood rushed out of her wound and soaked through her shirt. “Stay with me. Don’t sleep!” He angrily demanded as he cradled her in his arms. She coughed and blood seeped out from her lips and she was starting to shake from the loss of warmth in her body. He could hear her heart beat was slowing down and it tore him apart that he couldn’t do anything to help her. The mere thought of losing her terrified him and he refused to let that happen.

He buried his face in the nook of her neck and continued to gently rocked her in his lap. “Don’t leave. I have so many things to tell you. I’m so sorry,” His lips trembled and tears streamed down his cheeks, soaking the side of her neck. She weakly held onto him and lightly caressed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Derek.” She quietly whispered. He shook his head and refused her apology. “No! Stop! You’re not leaving me!” He desperately demanded and slowly pulled away from her neck. “I’m sorry for not listening to you. But I don’t regret it.” She gently smiled and brushed her thumb against his stubbled-cheek. “Shut up. I’m not letting you leave! Promise me you won’t leave.” His tears dropped onto her cheeks as he desperately pleaded.

“Derek! Let’s go! We have to go!” Stiles urgently waved towards him. “Scott’s mom is going to take care of her. Get your ass up!” He shouted, drawing Derek out from his blank mind of despair. After glancing around and assessing the situation, he felt a little comfortable leaving the group on their own. It seemed that Liam was doing a lot better than he expected and the group was holding up. Derek hurriedly lifted her up and ran after Stiles and headed straight for his Jeep. Derek carefully laid her in the back and hopped straight in the passenger seat. “Go, go!” Derek barked at Stiles to start driving. Stiles rushed out of the front of the warehouse and sped straight the hospital in incredible speed.


Connecting imagine/part 2 here. That’s the end.

Of love and... love - they aren’t the same thing

One of the things that seems to be a recurring theme in recent episodes is SPN showing the contrast between how Sam handles Castiel’s situation and how Dean does. And through this, we also see Sam getting an education in the heartbreak of Dean at his most raw, and by extension, the audience is getting this same education.

It really starts in The Vessel after the Winchesters learn that Cas has said “yes” to Lucifer. Sam tries to tell Dean that Cas might not want to come back since he did say yes. He is practical and understanding of his friend’s choice.

Contrast that with Dean who is in denial and having no part of rationality. He’s like nope no way no how would Cas voluntarily say no to expelling Lucifer. He always comes when I call and dammit, I’m calling! Sam is also witness to every one of Dean’s heartbreaking expressions as he learns about Casifer. These two aren’t mourning together for the loss of their friend. It’s much more one sided, with Sam consoling Dean, every time, because we are meant to see that Dean is the one hurting the most over Cas and Dean who has the deepest bond and is thinking with his heart. (x)

Plus, this episode starts Sam’s (and the audiences) education into how strong this bond between Dean and Cas is. First, Cas manages to break the control of the most powerful archangel ever to fight for Dean. Then, Lucifer shows Sam exactly what he can do to manipulate Dean by changing his voice and doing the heartfelt “Dean” and fucking heart eyes. (x)

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Kylo Ren x Reader (one shot)

Prompt: @fruityewokCan I request a Kylo one shot or mini fic? Anything really.. Maybe like the reader walks in on one of Kylo’s tantrums and she actually asks if he’s ok or if he needs something since he’s not used to human emotional contact and everyone is scared to talk to him idk. I just love Adam Driver so much sorry thank you much love”

Warning: Idk violent tantrum? lmao

Word Count: 2,664

A/N: I LOVE THIS PROMPT. Kinda tweaked it a bit, implied that she’s force sensitive without knowing?? Yet?? lol no second part guys. Honestly kind of want to tie this into my upcoming long fic. Anyways, I thought it made it a bit more interesting, dunno. I love immersive feelings in writing and I feel it makes it more immersive.


Tensions were high on Starkiller Base today, more so than usual. Word had gotten out that the map that Kylo Ren was apparently after was once again out of his reach. Although you didn’t work closely with the commander or on that specific mission, people talked. You depended on the words and rumors of others to decipher what went on around you as it wasn’t your place, or anyones for that matter, to ask. You just were a trainer, nothing more. No sides chosen for you, no questions asked. Just a schedule to keep up with, a job that puts your skills to the test, and Phasma breathing down your neck at all times.

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Enslaved by Kings and Dragons- [What the Heart Wants] - ENDING ONE

Your king. Your love.

Fervent whispers in the night. Warm, strong arms wrapped about you in guilty possession. His insatiable love. His tortured devotion.


You scream. But there is no sound but the deafening hammering of your heart.


Legolas is on his feet, brandishing his father’s elven blade. The Dark Lord lifts his hands, casting snarling shadows towards the elven prince. Anon throws herself before her son, gathering the shadows to her in a mad embrace.


Angry black handprints appear on her delicate white neck, staining her skin like ink. Fissures of red and white spread through her flesh like the cracks on an egg. She is breaking apart, dark fire consuming her from within. Legolas wails and wraps his arms around his mother, trying to hold her together. But she crumbles to ash in his arms.


He stands paralyzed, staring at the ash streaming through his fingers. Then he falls to his knees, trembling.


The last high elf of Mirkwood, The Dark Lord sneers, circling him like a vulture.  He grips his throat, and raises him high. What a pitiful, miserable wretch you are. Let your kin witness your death, so better to consider their fate.


Black handprints spread across his face, red and white cracks streaking across his skin. He will be dead, and all of Mirkwood will be lost.


“…Wait,” you murmur, and step forward. You scarcely know what it is you’re doing, but you know you must take action. Cumbersmaug tries to stop you but you are too fast for him. You give him a sad look, then slip Sauron’s ring upon your finger.


Cumbersmaug’s face turns a pale grey, and he jerks his head in dismay.


You could have been free, he says wordlessly with his expression. We could have just left all this behind, and been happy.


But Thranduil is dead, and Mirkwood is on the verge of ruin. So many people have died because of you. You have to stop the Dark Lord, even if it means your life.


“…Legolas is a high elf, is he not?” You ask, feeling the surge of power from the ring creep across your skin and take hold in dark, corrupt power. “Grant me his life to resurrect Thranduil, and I will never fight you again.”


You would trade the life of this innocent to bring back his father? How deliciously twisted.


Sauron cackles and slams Legolas to the ground.


The elven prince stares at your with eyes red from grief, tears still framing his long, delicate lashes.  


“Will you not give me the chance to make things right?” You whisper, taking his hand. He holds your gaze for a long time. Then he yields, eyes rolling back and breath leaving his body.


He is dead.


There is a ripple among the Mirkwood soldiers, but you hold the life of their king and prince in the palm of your hand. You hold so much power, you feel as if you are ready to burst. But you cannot. For Thranduil’s sake. For all your sake.


Sauron’s blade slips easily from his cold, broken chest. Legolas’ life is warm around your finger, humming with  promise. You press your palms against the gaping, black wound, keeping your mind as blank as a mirror so to focus.


“My Lord,” your murmur. “I fear that the power you have bestowed upon me is not working.”


Nonsense. Sauron narrows his eyes at you, his glare dangerous and cold. My ring is perfection. Its power is flawless.


“…Perhaps it is because I also wear Oropher’s ring?” You reach out and flash the fiery emerald set against the charred, wooden band. You had slipped the ring from Legolas’ hands, after he allowed the family heirloom to sap him of his life. Sauron’s eyes widen ever the so slightly.


Give that to me. Now.


You shake your head slowly in wide-eyed innocence. “…It’s stuck.”


Sauron is upon you, iron talons ripping at your fingers. Your other hand is pressed firmly against Thranduil, the Dark Lord’s ring humming with power. You close your eyes, and channel Sauron’s lifeforce into the cold flesh of your dead king.


What do you think you are doing?  Sauron roars, trying to wrench from your grasp. But Legolas’ lifeforce is strong in Oropher’s ring, and he knows he cannot let go. Together, you hold on to the Dark Lord, sapping the very essence of the Darkness and channelling it all to Thranduil.


There is the shriek of a thousand bats, the howling of tortured, rabid beasts. The Dark Lord writhes and twists, metal grinding against metal as He is reduced with every heaving jolt of life into Thranduil’s chest. Thranduil’s wounds begin to close, the flush of life slowly creeping back into his limbs. There is a ear-splitting crunch, and suddenly the Dark Lord is gone.


Thranduil stirs, long lashes fluttering. Then he opens his eyes, and gazes up at you with eyes of the deepest blue.


“…I was reunited with my father,” he whispers. “I heard the voice of my son, yet he was not with me. There was an unnatural gust of such force that pulled me away, I could not help but heed…” His voice trails off as he touches your face with a gentle hand. Then his expression turns fearful. “…You have brought me back, but at what cost?”


Legolas.


You rush to Legolas’ body, placing Oropher’s ring back on his finger. The ring shimmers, then the emerald grows dark. The wooden band splits, the magic of the ring spent completely. Slowly, Legolas opens his eyes, and looks up at you. He smiles and takes your hand and grips it tightly.


“I have had my doubts about you,” he murmurs. “But you have pulled through in our time of greatest need. We owe you our lives, my lady. I will never doubt you again.”


Cumbersmaug clasps a hand tightly on your shoulder, worry etched on his face.


“…It was a brave, brilliant thing you did. But Sauron is not so easily vanquished. He lives in shadow, and may be lying in wait-” His voice cuts off abruptly as grabs your hand.


Sauron’s ring is twisting black and red on your finger; black shadows creeping from the ring and across your fingers like tar.


You think you are safe from me?  The Dark Lord’s voice hisses from the ring. I cannot be killed! You cannot destroy me!


The ring begins to smoke as Darkness curls across you and plunges into your mind.


You are the Dark God, the all-seeing eye, born of hellfire and wrath and baptized in blood. You are the ONE, the mother of decay and filth. The world is yours to tear and feast, to ravage and destroy. Once you have the one ring of power…


“Look at me,” Cumbersmaug breathes, heartbreak etched in his gaze. He is gripping your shoulders and shaking you.


“…You are beauty, you are light!” He says softly. “You are all that is wonderful in the world, and more. Darkness must never take you again.”


He draws you in a tight embrace, kissing you like he will never kiss you again. In that moment you forget the fire. The red and the black. There is nothing in this world but you and your Cumber, the taste of his kiss, the warmth of his strong, safe arms. Then he slips the ring from your finger, and places it in his mouth. You are ripped from fire, and back to mortal flesh. You regain your senses just as he swallows the ring.


“What did you do?” You shriek, wrapping your arms around him.


He buckles over, clutching his chest. You can see the gleam of evil fire tearing through his skin. He is dying, Sauron’s evil eating him alive from the inside.


“…It is killing the flesh of man, but it cannot kill the dragon,” he manages, the imprint of scales flashing gold on his arms, countering the black of death. He stretches into dragon, wings wide and claws sharp.


“…Ah,” he groans, shuddering painfully. “I have lost the part of me that is most dear.”


Then he looks at you, golden eyes full of love and sorrow. The way he looks at you now, the way he kissed you before swallowing the ring.


“…Cumber?” You whisper, dread and fear eating at your insides.


“Sweet, beautiful girl,” he rumbles softly. “The one who has kept me tethered, showed me what is to love. You are my shining gem, my greatest treasure. I have held you captive all your life. I can do so no longer.”


“What are you saying?” You cry. “Cumber!”


“Go to the elf. Promise me that you will live your life free and unburdened. Free to laugh, free to love. I will return to Erebor and sleep for a millennia. Until you have passed and are truly safe from the Dark Lord’s grasp.”


“No,” You whisper, tears streaming down your face. “There is still so much ahead of us! You promised you’d always be by my side…”


Cumbersmaug gives you a toothy, broken smile. “I will remain dragon forever, and must keep to myself if I am to keep the Darkness at bay. It is a small price to pay, If it means you will be safe from now on.” He turns his gaze to Thranduil, whose expression is hard and unreadable as marble.


“Mirkwood elf,” He growls, his voice thick with resentment. “I am entrusting you with what is most precious to me. In time, the Dark Lord’s evil will seep from me into the mountain of gold. You must see to it that she never returns to Erebor. You must protect her with your life.”


Thranduil says nothing, glaring at him icily. Then he turns to his men.


”…Take her,“ he orders. "We return to Mirkwood.”


“No!” You leap from the Mirkwood soldiers and wrap your arms tightly around Cumbersmaug’s snout. “NO!”


“Goodbye, my love,“ He murmurs, nuzzling you gently. "Remember that your dragon shall love you until the day he breathes his very last.”


Then he is gone, soaring into the air, his grief filling the sky with streaks of fire. You run after him shrieking, tears streaming down your cheeks. It is Legolas that pulls you to him in comfort.

It is Spring.


The evening wind carries the distant scent of mountain lilies into the halls of the Great Elven King. You look out into the distance at the Lonely Mountain, and think about the solitary, slumbering dragon within.


It’s almost been a year since the Mirkwood elves half carried, half dragged you back to the Great Halls. It is for the greater good, they say. Cumbersmaug sleeps to keep Middle Earth safe. To keep you safe.


You wonder what he dreams of. If his mind is filled with gems and gold, or of ravaging, dark fire. You wonder if he dreams of you, of flower wreaths and the scent of a forgotten Spring.


Promise me that you will live your life free and unburdened,
he said. Free to laugh, free to love
.


When he wakes, you will be long gone. And he will be alone.


You feel the elven King’s presence behind you. He is holding a thick, woolen shawl.


"It is still brisk out,” he says softly, giving you a slight smile. “It would be wise to stay warm.”


He hands you the shawl, taking great care that your fingers do not touch. He has been kind to you, but distant. He guards his thoughts and emotions with painstaking care, his face a cool mask of kind indifference. But you know him too well; his eyes always betray him.


“…Do you still wish to wake him?” His voice is calm, as if he were asking about the weather.


“Yes.” There is no hesitation in your voice.


“…He means much to you, that you would risk the safety of Middle Earth.”


You look away. How do you explain the ache of your heart, the guilt you feel? Your best friend, the only family you have left will spend the rest of your life asleep, and you will never have the chance to tell him goodbye.


There is heartbreak in Thranduil’s eyes as he tries to read your expression, to understand the thoughts that are running through your head. Alas, he fails, as he has failed time and time again.


“…I will leave you to your reverie.”


As he turns away, you catch his hand. He freezes, his entire body taut. It has been a year since you have touched him, since you brought him back from the Hall of Mandos.


He closes his eyes. His palm is warm against against yours. Then he gently releases your hand, and leaves.


That night, you slip past the guards and into Thranduil’s private chambers. He is standing at his window, an empty wine glass between his fingers. His tall figure is bent like a willow tree, straining against the weight of his despair. He does not look at you as you enter; rather, he stares out into the wide, open sky.


“…Have you come to bid me farewell? Your heart lies in Erebor. As it has been since the very, very beginning.” The wine glass in his hand is trembling, and he sets it down.


“…You have my permission to return to Erebor,” He says slowly, trying so hard to keep his voice steady. “Go wake the dragon, if that is what your heart desires-”


His voice cuts off as you wrap your arms around his waist and clasp him tightly.


“And what does the King of Mirkwood know of my heart?” You murmur softly. “I know your woods like the back of my hand. You know how easily I slip past your guards. Tell me why I linger here, if my heart belongs to another.”


Thranduil inhales sharply; the thought of you staying all this time of your own free will had never occurred to him.


“Cumber knew my heart was yours, yet still sacrificed himself for me. That is what makes his loss so much harder to bear. Forgive me, for being so consumed by what I have lost, that I lose sight of what I have. I love you, Thranduil. Now and forever.”


He turns around slowly. His eyes are shining as they study yours. Then he crushes you against him, burying his head into your hair. His breath is shaky, his arms wrapped around you as if he fears you may slip away.


“So long I have watched you, not knowing whether the emotions in your eyes were a projection of my own,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. “All this time, I thought you had chosen him, that I was keeping you from him…”


You throw your arms around his neck and pull him in to you. Lips parting, tongue seeking. He is breathless, fingers weaving through your hair. His body is hot and firm against yours, his longing radiating from his flesh. How he has held back from you all this time. His need, his ache. His longing that is also your longing, simmering through your very being.


He takes your hand and clasps it against his heart.   


“If your heart is not ready. If you still grieve…” he chokes huskily. You press a finger against his lips, then trace down his chin, his neck. There is a want in you, a need that transcends the flesh. It is a hunger of the heart, a hunger of the soul. You slide your hands under his shirt, pulling them off his shoulders. He is smooth and muscular, his flesh warm beneath your palms. You run your fingers down his firm, broad chest, feeling the pinpricks dance in the wake of your touch. He closes his eyes, as if in pain.


“Melamin,” he whispers, his words like a prayer. “Melamin…”


He soaks in the sight of you as he lifts you effortlessly and carries you to his bed. There is no darkness between you now. Only understanding. How long has this moment of clarity eluded both you, and how it is finally found.


His fingers are entwined with yours as his presses them tightly against his pillows. He falls into you tenderly, like a leaf drifting into the open arms of a field.


His body molds perfectly to yours, curves into hollows, the soft melting into to the firm.


He remembers you, his fingers gentle in his rediscovery, his lips and tongue savoring and seeking.


And you remember him, the memory a sweet, beautiful song that you coax from his depths.


You are a delicate flower draped in shreds of ravished silk, blooming and blossoming under his care, welcoming his completion.


And he finds you, tasting your cries of fierce pleasure and echoing them in groans of his own endless desire.


He is the last missing piece of the endless puzzle, the key that unlocks the enigma of your soul.


Your name weaves in and out of his feverish gasps and elvish whispers.


You are lost in in the rhythm of racing hearts, in the song that is the wind through the forest, the rush of waterfall into the sea.


Forever, he asks silently as he drifts towards ecstasy.


Forever, you answer, and follow him.


Together, you are the shimmer of stardust, the dance of the celestials glittering in the velvety night.


You are giddy anticipation of the endless wonder that lay ahead. Free to laugh, free to love.


Just as it was always meant to be.

The End.

[Posted 1/1/15]

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Title:  My Lies, Your Worth
Part:  37

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Because he lacks the hands of an artist and the mind of an intellect, his capabilities as a conman are limited.  Kise can’t compose original schemes; Kise can’t create art and sculpture.  All he has to his person is his charisma, his voice, his body.  He’ll never be able to devise a con without reference; he’ll never know how to manipulate paint and marble.  The only tool of his trade that Kise has full control over is his lies.  No one can tell them better; no one can be more convincing.  While Kise’s mind is a mess, his actions and expressions and words are perfect.  With Silver, Kise will be a bitch; with Himuro, Kise will be a lover; with Aomine—Kise will be a challenge.

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*** Edit: you can find Part 2 to this fic here

In which Caroline goes to talk some sense into Damon on Stefan’s behalf, and the conversation takes an unexpected turn. Old insecurities surface, and Caroline reaches her boiling point. 

Set several months following the season 6 finale.

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