awritersometime - Tumblr blog

awritersometime · 12 days

Note

i’m actually dying to see more diane stories so could you do something fluffy? like comforting. I would love that!!

I sincerely hope you like it 💕

Safe heaven

You've been avoiding her calls for a while now, not intentionally of course, you're just swimming with thoughts. Frantically pacing back and forth, Diane dials your number for the umpteenth time. Once again, it goes unanswered, her screen turning black. "Come on, don't do this," she runs a shaky hand through her hair, trying to put an order to her thoughts.

Then your favorite place, the ocean, comes to her mind. Whenever you're upset or feel like taking a break, you drive to the beach. That's where you are.

"Please, be there. Please," as Diane grabs her keys to rush out the door, her mind races with worst case scenarios. In a metter or seconds she is in her car.

You've recently obtained a master degree in English language and linguistics, meaning that you're next in line to be teaching in schools, high schools to be precise. That alone should be great news, however, something definitely bothers you. You only recently turned 26; Diane doesn't know that, but a part of you believes that it won't be easy for you to fit in the role, considering your students won't be much younger than you.

Listening to the waves crashing against the shore has always had the power to quiet down the turmoil inside your heart. Unfortunately for you, today the sea was as calm as a mirror— meaning that your thoughts were louder than ever. You almost regret leaving the house. In the meantime Diane's heart races at incredible speed once she stops the car and gets off. She scans the horizon, searching for any signs of you in the distance. She takes a sigh of relief when she recognizes you, a tiny dot sitting down by the shore, legs to the chest, chin on your knees.

She sighs softly, taking quick steps towards you. It takes her a bunch of seconds before she drops to her knees, right beside you. "Darling, hey," her voice trembles a bit when she calls you. You feel her hand stroking the back of your head and you turn around. You say her name in such a tired tone that the woman can't help but frown. "I've been trying to reach you. You didn't pick up any of my calls," she doesn't mean it as reproach and she makes sure you know that. However, the reality of the situation hits you hard. She exhales, attempting to smile, "I was so worried," she breathes out. You close your eyes and take in a deep breath. "Sorry, I-I'm sorry, gosh, I don't know what came over me—", you try to find a good reason to all this but truth be told there isn't one, "The sea isn't even cooperating with me today," a bitter smile tugs at your lips as you point at the still flat surface in front of you.

Diane's heart shatters at the sadness in your voice, the slight furrow of your brows. "Baby," she brushes a strand of hair from your face, to better expose your beautiful gaze. She doesn't fail to notice how you struggle to ward off the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. "I'm fine," you croak out unconvincingly. Diane lightly rolls her eyes, "Are you?", she asks softly, playing with the tips of your hair, curling it around her finger. A part of you feels pathetic for how you're acting. You're an adult, meaning that you're supposed to act like one. Your voice breaks slightly, "I'm pathetic, I'm sorry— I don't know why I'm like this."

Tears prickle at the corner of Diane's eyes, her demeanor soon shifts. If there is something she can't stand is when you treat yourself poorly like that. "Do not say that, you hear me? You're not pathetic. Something is clearly bothering you," she says, her voice devoid of any kind of hesitation. "But I shouldn't—", you sniffle and she interjects, hushing you softly. "Whatever you're feeling is valuable. It doesn't make you pathetic, but human," she insists, leaning closer to you, grazing her thumb over your cheekbone. With downcast eyes, you mutter, "But I worried you. I am a 26 years old woman and I still worry you with my childish behaviors," you pout.

Rolling her eyes, Diane affectionately strokes the tip of your nose, "Your age doesn't mean anything, sweetheart. You're my girlfriend. I will never stop feeling this way towards you. And even when there is no reason to worry, I'll still act crazy because you're not just anybody, you're my family," she confesses, making you smile in return. A blush comes to your cheeks too that Diane doesn't fail to notice. "That's incredibly corny—", you comment amusedly. She grins, "but you love it," she pokes your arm. "Amen to that", you both giggle at that. Diane is the sweetest, most caring person you've ever met in your life. A part of you often wonders who would you be without her. "Will you tell me what's going on?", she whispers before placing a gentle kiss against your forehead.

You sigh. You know you owe her an explanation. "It's just—" The waves you were supposed to see in the ocean, you see them in her eyes. "It's about what's to come."

Tears shimmer in your eyes, the sense of guilt coming back to you. Diane's heart tightens, and without a word, she moves closer and pulls you in her lap. "Can you be more specific?", she coos, her cheek rubs gently against yours. You find yourself smiling at the gesture. A smile she quickly reciprocates. You admire Diane like no other. Not only is she a wonderful girlfriend, protective and affectionate, but she is also an amazing teacher.

"I start teaching next semester," you blurt out. These words put together feel so unrealistic, you akwardly rub the back of your head. Diane's eyes open wide in slow motion, then she gasps and squeals like a child for how excited she is. She slightly pulls away to look at you in the eyes, probably to make sure you're serious. "No way— How? When did you find out?", your mouth tugs into a smile that you try to curb, touched by Diane's enthusiasm. You nibble on your bottom lip, averting her gaze for a brief moment, feeling suddenly overwhelmed all over again as you remember what happened earlier that day. "I received an email by the school principal— it looks like there is a vacancy in English linguistics and he offered me the job."

Diane's hand fly to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Her beautiful chocolate eyes well up with fresh tears. Of joy this time, and pride for what you've finally achieved.

Next thing you feel are Diane's arms securely wrapped around you, "You have no idea how proud of you I am, sweetheart. You deserve this more than you know," she pulls back only a bit to look at you in the eyes. She is weeping now. Her hands roam up and down your face and shoulders. Her happiness is contagious and you can't help but smile along with her. Her eyes shine so bright you feel silly for the worries that have been haunting your mind and weighting on your heart.

You were supposed to celebrate, throw a party, even jumping in the ocean with your clothes on would have been better than getting depressed over silly concerns. Truth is, you want to be great at this, because this is what you love doing and what you've been preparing for your whole life. And at the same time, you want to live up to everyone's expectations. Especially Diane's. It's not that you want to compare yourself to her, but a part of you feels like you're not as good as her. Diane has much more experience than you, and students love her and respect her both as teacher and person.

That's probably what worries you the most, the possibility of not being taken seriously, not only because this is new territory to you, but also due to your young age. "Thanks," you breathe out, forcing a better smile out of you. "It really means the world to me." Then, you sweep your tongue over your lips, and Diane takes that as signal of distress from you. She smiles softly at you and opens her arms for you, "Come back here, silly." You don't let her tell you twice. Soon goosebumps rise over your skin, as she start cuddling you. "You don't seem thrilled to work with me," she whispers teasingly in your ear. You let out a quiet giggle, and shake your head, "I am. I feel honored, actually."

She hums in response, holding you a little tighter, "Then, what is it?", you lift your chin to meet her eyes and wait a couple of seconds before mastering the courage to tell her what is bothering you, "Your students respect you and see you as a role model," you state. Diane frowns, without understand where this is going yet. "I can't help but wonder if they will be showing me the same respect." Her mouth falls partially agape, her heart shutters at your self doubt. You've proved her your worth countless of times. You helped her grade her students' essays and gave her precious advices regarding lesson planning. "Sweetheart, they are gonna love you," she says, without a hint of hesitation in her tone. You try to protest, but she doesn't let you.

"Listen to me. Your young age isn't an obstacle but a bridge between you and them. Your passion for what you do, the dedication you put to get where you are now will be a source of inspiration for them," with a tender smile, Diane moves your hair on your left shoulder. You hum deep in thought. Her fingertips send you a shiver through your spine, when she strokes a sweet spot behind your neck, now clear from hair. "I'll have to keep an eye on you though," you frown at that. She shrugs and grins nonchalantly when you ask her what she means, "I can easily imagine your soon to be students fall deeply for their new teacher."

A playful hum comes to your lips: the concern you've been feeling suddenly subsides. "That is never gonna happen, Diane," you can't help but chuckle at her assumptions. You honestly love this side of her, when she is jealous, protective and a little bit possessive over you. It makes you feel like you're part of something, it gives you a sense of belonging.

"Oh, trust me, I'll make sure of that," her eyes sparkle mischievously, as she leans in to place a loud kiss on your cheek. You chuckle again, "Jealous, are we?" Diane's lips curve into a playful grin, "I simply defend what's mine, sweetheart," she says in a breathed whisper. You lift your hand in mid air, your fingers meeting her face. "I'm only yours, Diane," you speak with your heart, voice laced with emotion, "God, you're all I ever wanted."

It's obvious how she makes you feel. It shows in your eyes, in the way your cheeks quickly go on flame, and in that funny feeling between your legs that tickles you every time you're close to her. Diane owns you in the broadest sense of the term. "You're my treasure," Leaning in, she brushes her lips against yours, kissing you at a gentle rhythm. When she parts her mouth, you stroke the inside with a gentle flick of your tongue. Pouring in all your love, you kiss her with such an intensity, as if it was the last time. She breathes your name in your mouth and you moan hers, clinging to her clothes as she pulls onto your hair.

When you're in need to catch your breath, you part slightly but still being in each other's bubble. "Are you really mine?", she asks, her voice barely audible. You take her hand and place it upon your heart, "Do you feel that?" you ask, with a tender smile. She nods, already feeling emotional, "Every beat of my heart is for you, and that's never gonna change." A single tear slides down Diane's cheek as you speak, as she mutters your name in disbelief. You point a finger at her jokingly. "That's all your fault. You made me a hopeless sentimental," Diane laughs heartily, when you feign a grimace, "Oh you—I absolutely love you" her nose brushes against yours as she leans close to you once again.

You're both her obsession and her cure. She can't do without you. Neither can you. Your fingers come up to her face, in the attempt to wipe those tears glistening at the corners of her eyes.

"Maybe we should soon put a ring on it," when that sentence comes to Diane's ears, she looks at you like she's seen a ghost, "W-what?", it's no secret to you that you want to get married someday, and you know that deep down Diane shares the same desire. You often fantasized about walking down the aisle together. Truth be told, you two actually started talking about it after only three weeks of dating. The topic often came out masked by a playful tone, however, both of you were always incredibly serious about it. "I'm not just saying it, Diane. And of course this is not an official proposal, because, I wouldn't do this to you like this, you deserve a proper one. I'm just—," you shrug nervously, "you know..."

Diane can't help but chuckle at that, "You're asking me, if you can actually ask me?"

A humorous giggle escapes your lips at her question. Nodding your head you say, "Pretty much, yes. Is it weird?", as response, Diane reaches out to gently caress your face, getting lost in your gaze as deep as the ocean, "That's the sweetest thing you've ever told me, and my answer is yes— it's always going to be yes," she grins and pecks the tip of your nose. With a small, nervous laugh, you stutter, "Really?" And she nods so eagerly and convincingly, you find yourself on cloud nine. "Oh, gods!" You sigh dreamily, and she arches an eyebrow at that, "I'll have the most beautiful wife in the world."

Diane lightly shakes her head, playfully nudging you, "Not at all. That would be me," she argues and when you're ready to object, she pecks your lips to keep you quiet. "And please, don't you ever doubt yourself anymore like that," she says serious again. "Cross my heart," you lift your pinkie and she lifts hers sealing the promise with a joyful smile. Then she looks at the sea, still holding you in her arms. After a moment of silence, she confesses, "Are you aware that now I'll think about it every single day until you ask me," you grin and absentmindedly stroke her arms, wrapped around you, "To await a pleasure is itself a pleasure," you mutter so seriously, you can't help and neither can Diane but to burst out laughing.

#american horror story #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #Diane Sherman #Diane Sherman x reader #sarah paulson x you #run #writing prompts #fluff and angst

26 notes · View notes

awritersometime · 15 days

Note

quick and random question but do you write for diane sherman??

Hii! I have never tried to write for her but I’d definitely give it a try with the right inspiration and idea 😌

#american horror story #run #sarah paulson images #Diane Sherman #send me asks

0 notes

awritersometime · 17 days

Text

I just realized the gay pride in London takes place on 29 June… and I fly there the week after… damnnnn

#I wanted to see it #im disappointed #screaming in the pillow #London

1 note · View note

awritersometime · 17 days

Text

209 notes · View notes

awritersometime · 20 days

Text

Hiii! I watched Glass a few days ago and I decided to write something with Dr. Ellie Staple! It's nothing special, and maybe it's pretty rushed too, but I wanted to give it a try and here it is! I finally graduated so I have way more free time than before to think of plots and write down ideas. Hope you enjoy it <3

Embrace who you are

I have been sitting in this room for so long, I don't even remember what day is it. Hours flow quietly in their succession, always the same. I used to believe that being different was a blessing, but in this place it's nothing like that. I don't consider myself a superhero, although I possess some characteristics that have nothing to do with what's ordinary.

There must be something in my brain, she says. An episode of my past, a memory, a trauma that perhaps led me feeling numb in contact with fire. Not that I can do much in here. The medication and these restraint bracelets are weakening me day to day, and I'm honestly not even trying anymore to perform it because what's the point?

"Why are you doing this?", I ask her again, when comes in for the daily checkup. Her soft waves contour her face so graciously, I can't help but feel drawn to her, to those eyes that deep down appear to guard only light and kindness. However, was that the truth or just an infatuation of mine, considering the conditions she put me in?

"What do you mean, sweetheart?", her voice is laced with an innocence I stopped believing a few days ago. She is just trying to avoid the question, as always. I scoff lightly and bow my head focusing on my trembling hands, whose wrists have been handcuffed with a peculiar bracelet meant to keep all my abilities at bay. Initially I thought she cared about me, like truly. But now, I'm not sure anymore.

"I'm supposed to believe whatever you say without a fight—" I mumble tiredly, slowly meeting her confused frown. I'm so tired of being here, these four white walls are driving me crazy. I just want my life back. Doesn't she see that I'm struggling? She sighs and tilts her head to the side, a soft smile appears on her lips, "Sweetie, I—"

But I don't want to listen to those excuses anymore. "All your assumptions about what's real and what's not," I fix my gaze at the handcuffs, "and these, I'm sick of these! I feel like... suffocating," I swallow a lump in my throat, my voice comes out thinner but determined to make her understand that she was hurting me.

She smiles sadly at me, her eyebrows meet in a frown, "I know it seems brutal...", I chuckle bitterly, "Because it is!" I respond, letting out an exasperated grunt. She sees I'm fighting against my emotions, pushing past the tears threatening to spill from my eyes. She walks towards me, and for a moment, I see guilt flashing through her deep chocolate eyes. "Hey, hey...", I feel the mattress beneath me dip a bit as she takes a seat next to me.

On one side, I admire her like no other person I've ever laid my eyes on. There is something about her that hopelessly draws me closer. But there is also the other side that says— scream even to stay away. "I'm aware it's hard for you to comprehend, but I know what I'm doing. I specialize in people like you..."

Have you ever had that feeling about a person? Even when you know they are wrong, it feels like they are telling the truth, just because they firmly believe it is the truth. That's how Ellie was making me feel. She thinks she is helping me, failing to see my prospective. "People like me?," I look into her eyes with nothing but pure disbelief. A bitter chuckle escapes my mouth right after.

"Wait—", she sighs and reaches out a hand to touch me but I draw back before she can do it. "Do you hear yourself talking? There is nothing wrong with me," my lip quivers as I pronounce those words. I wonder what these handcuffs are made of to make my finger feel so numb and cold.

Ellie leans closer and lightly hushes me. Her long brown lashes well up with tears, tears that honestly I don't understand. Is she sad because she can't cure me? Is she discouraged because I refuse to listen to her? While busy asking myself what the reason of her distress may be, her hand gently cups my cheek. I squeeze my eyes shut, when her voice says my name with such a delicacy, I feel more vulnerable than ever. "You mastered a remarkable kindness, but it's just a camouflage."

If I looked at her now I'd see the hurt in her eyes. Her fingers tremble next to my skin. She inhales sharply and shakes her head at the same time, "No..." she voices out both exasperatedly and painfully, "You're so wrong," when her voice cracks a little, I look at her and say, "You keep telling me I'm wrong, but you never considered that you might be."

Her cheeks have reddened a bit, probably taken aback by my sudden outburst. A single tear slides down her face, while her bottom lip wobbles, causing me to feel guilty for whatever reason. "Your beliefs can put you in danger," she stutters for the first time feeling unconvinced of her own statement. It only makes the entire situation funnier to me.

"They are not beliefs and you know it! This is who I am," I voice out in a faint whisper. Tears spill from my eyes, because I'm so exhausted to be fed lies. I never called myself a superhero and if that's the title she fears so much, I'm willing to never use it. I'm just a girl that can evoke fire. I don't know myself how that's possible, but it's true. A part of me secretly hoped that Ellie would understand me, but I'm slowly losing faith.

When I was first met with those brown eyes I thought there was a chance for me to be understood and not condemned. I understand maybe it's fear what she feels. But I'm not a danger, I never was. After all, what harm have I done in life? I try to help those in need when I get the chance. Otherwise, I simply mind my business. I'm a normal person, regardless of the skills I possess. "I simply want to help you, make sure you don't get hurt..."

I scoff again, a bitter smile curve my lips, "By making me lose myself so that you're happy with your research?", "How does this make me happy exactly?", she quickly responds, gesturing animatedly. I raise an eyebrow at that. Is she pointing out the fact that I'm restrained? If yes, wouldn't it be easier to just let me go? "You did this to me," I state calmly, showing her my wrists.

Her chest rises and falls quicker, she opens her mouth to say something but she closes it again. I see her biting her tongue after, clearly in difficulty to express herself and make herself understood. I find myself even more confused because... are those irises moist with tears now? Is she about to cry? If so, maybe she does care? Or maybe she just finds me crazy and utterly beyond recovery.

"You're so focused on trying to get me to admit that I'm mentally sick, that you don't even see the person that I actually am," I see her posture change a bit when I pronounce these words. "That's not—", I keep her gaze, while I hesitantly draw my hands closer to hers. Despite the handcuffs, I can still move pretty freely, since they are not those bound to one another but they simply restrain my wrists. She looks at our fingers in trance as they almost touch. "Am I only an experiment to you? A task to complete so that you can level up?"

"N-no...," she looks heartbroken when she says that. Her voice never sounded so weak and guilty. It almost makes me feel bad for having said that. For a while I thought about believing her, admit to myself that having those abilities was more of an illness than a gift. That I maybe didn't feel pain, but I was actually hurting myself purposefully. And that it was better to be cured, but then, something snapped in me. Those were just lies.

"I don't see you that way. I never did. I do care about you." I sigh and angrily wipe my cheeks with the sleeves of my shirt, "Your actions tell me differently," I reply, averting my gaze towards that annoying pale wall, but only briefly cause lingering on it too long causes my eyes to itch and burn. "What do you want me to do?", that question surprises me. I mean, wasn't it obvious? I shake my handcuffs slightly as to point out the main reason of my distress.

"Freeing me from these would be a good start," I keep a sarcastic smile on my face. She takes a hesitant breath, her teeth nibbling her bottom lip that can't stop trembling, "Sweetheart...", she struggles, her eyes possess a fear of I don't know what, but it's crystal clear that it gnaws at her heart. "Please, Ellie. I'm not a danger," I plead.

Despite having been treated like this for weeks, I don't seek revenge or anything of the sort. I just want to be able to go back to my old life and get rid of these annoying handcuffs. "I want to believe you, I do", she insists, her voice trembling as she speaks, wavering with uncertainty. For the first time after a while I see a shift in her behavior. A determination that maybe will lead her to go against the protocol, "Then, what's stopping you?", I insist softly.

"Everything I've been taught...", she mutters to herself before looking at me again, "Look, I see the truth in your eyes," she admits, which makes me hope for a real change of events. "I'm just— I'm scared of the consequences. Not about what you would do once you're set free, but about the others— what if they find out and disagree with my decision? What if they come after you, manipulate and restrain you in ways I can't even imagine?"

I see her heart torn between duty and compassion. Love even, maybe. A soft smile tugs at my lips, maybe she does care about me after all. "I can handle myself. I can change city, I don't know, disappear if I have to... Anything is better than this. I don't want to spend eternity here, though your company makes it better," my attempts to be funny even in such situations sometimes astonishes me.

However, there is some truth in it. I like her. Maybe more than I should, as irrational as that sounds. Ellie's cheeks flush pink, an amused and quiet chuckle escapes her mouth right after, "You don't have to flatter me, sweetheart," I rapidly shake my head at that. I'm not trying to play with her, I really meant what I said. "I'm not," I state simply, hoping to let my honesty shine through. "Although, I wish we met in different circumstances," I mutter quietly, shrugging a bit.

"Me too...", she says, which leads me to snap my eyes open towards her. "For real?", her heart breaks at the uncertainty and vulnerability in my voice. Ellie simply nods at that, a thin and sad smiles graces upon her lips, while her hand reaches out to cup my cheek still wet and warm with tears. The pad of her finger delicately wipe a solitary tear that, without me knowing, just slipped from my eye. I'm so vulnerable to affection, I feel myself blushing.

I didn't know that but Ellie had spent so long to try and suppress her mixed feeling towards me, burying them beneath the weight of her responsibilities as doctor. Her fingers keep brushing against my paled cheek as she ponders on her next words carefully, "I'm so sorry," she whispers painfully, "Ellie...", I look for her eyes, that she voluntarily keeps down. "I'm sorry for making you doubt of yourself, for keeping you here—", shaking her head, she lets out a cry, "I want to help you, for real now."

With my eyes wide open, I breathe out, "Really?", tears brim in my eyes, as a glimmer of hope flick within them. "If it's the last thing I do" she confesses weakly, finally looking at me now. "This isn't your place." My heart flutters at her tone, I feel mixed feelings all of the sudden. I'm so excited to the possibility to put an end to all of this, "What will we do, then?"

What she does next completely astounds me. Her delicate fingers fumble as she struggles to unlock the handcuffs which have been secured with a code that only she knows. When a click follows, I finally feel cool air pass through my skin. I let out a relieved breath, while Ellie gasps in horror, noticing the red, raw marks etched into my wrists. "Oh my God, I'm.. I'm so sorry—", panic fills her voice as she shakily takes both my hands in hers, examining the seriousness of the injury.

"Don't be sorry, " I tell her with a reassuring smile, not wanting to add more weight on her shoulders. I feel so relieved, as if I'm starting breathing again. "No. I should have done better, I never meant to hurt you this way—", she takes a deep, shaky breath, her whole body trembling with remorse. She lightly massages my sore wrists, making me wince a bit. She stops, offering me another apologetic glance, "Can you feel your powers?", she asks, cupping my cheeks.

"Huh?", unsure if I have heard her right or not, she looks at me with conviction, tears filling her eyes. She nods her head and strokes my cheeks tenderly, "But... are you sure?", a reassuring smile tugs at Ellie's lips, "You need them to get out of here, don't you?", she grins through tears. I can't help but chuckle at that. The first liberating giggle in so long. "You're not afraid of me?", I need to make sure of this. I never mean to be a monster in her eyes.

As weird as it sounds, the last thing I wish for is for her to think ill of me. She simply shakes her head, her lips flatten in a thin line. Her eyes express me a weight of guilt and sorrow that tell me more than one hundred words. "I never was," her emotional confession makes my heart burst with joy. As I wriggle my fingers, slowly feeling my powers radiate through each fiber of my body once again, she gives me an encouraging squeeze on my shoulder.

I chuckle softly when dim flames start dancing in your hands, casting a warm glow in your face. Ellie can't help but look at me in awe. Her fear slowly melting away, replaced by a sense of wonder and admiration. "You were never a threat...", she mutters to herself, however loud enough for me to hear. A soft smile plays on my lips, as I look at her. When my gaze lingers on her eyes, the flames grow a little stronger.

Realizing that, I close my hands in fists and quickly and awkwardly apologize. She giggles at that and reaches out a hand to cup my chin, "You're extraordinary," she mutters, captivated by my gentle demeanor. A funny warmth fills my chest, when she asks, "Show me again. Show me who you are," her eyes lock with mine with nothing but love and conviction. I nod my head, a playful grin upon my features as I lean closer to her and whisper, "with immense pleasure."

#sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson imagines #dr. ellie staple #Ellie staple x reader #sarah paulson #glass #dr. Ellie staple x reader

19 notes · View notes

awritersometime · 24 days

Text

I just finished watching Glass for the first time only to realize dr. Ellie Staple was kind of the … evil/manipulative character? OMG. Is she good at it! 😭

#glass #sarah paulson #dr. Ellie Staple #she is hot

3 notes · View notes

awritersometime · 26 days

Text

don't fucking interrupt me when i'm reading my x reader fics it's rude

21K notes · View notes

awritersometime · 28 days

Text

I graduate tomorrow and I can’t believe it. I’m shaking and sobbing because I have to make a presentation of the thesis I wrote and there is gonna be so many people and I DONT WANT THIS.

#send help #I probably need tequila #im sweating already #i want the supreme to save me from this

0 notes

awritersometime · 29 days

Text

𝑆𝑎𝑟𝑎ℎ 𝑃𝑎𝑢𝑙𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑠 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑎 𝐺𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝐶𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑛 & 𝐴𝑝𝑜𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑦𝑝𝑠𝑒 (2013, 2018)

44 notes · View notes

awritersometime · 1 month

Text

Ima tell my kids this was the last supper.

48 notes · View notes

awritersometime · 2 months

Text

Can't hide you the truth

Wilhemina Venable x reader

I've got no warnings for this os, it's essentially fluff and a bit silly. I wrote it down using these two prompts "Please, stay on the phone with me." & "Stop telling me you're fine." I've been watching a lot of Modern Family recently, so it's not exactly angsty as one would expect. I hope it's decent anyway. Lemme know <3

It was the third time that I tried to reach out to her, but no answer. I know I shouldn't worry, but it wasn't like her to avoid my calls, especially if insistent. I start thinking about every little scenarios, from the worst to the least worst, with my mind focusing on the first ones obviously. What if she isn't feeling well? Maybe I did something bad without noticing? Could be? I quickly check the date on my phone, think a couple of seconds and no, it wasn't neither our anniversary nor any other special date worth remembering. I squint my eyes in thought. What was happening, then?

I tighten my grip on the wheel and let out a long sigh. On top of all of this, I'm stuck in the traffic, and visibility is partially limited due to the light haze covering the surroundings. I groan, after waiting a couple of extra minutes, "Siri, call Mina, again." I'd have tried to reach out to her on and on if I had to. I silently beg that she answers me, counting each second passing inside my head. In the meantime, I turn on the heating, because my fingers are getting cold due to their stillness on the wheel.

Finally, she answers. When I hear her voice, murmuring a soft "hi, little one", I let out a long breath, I didn't know I was holding. "Mina, hi! I've tried calling you for a while, is everything okay?", I wonder aloud, "Also, I'm stuck in traffic, " I make a face, "I go at a snail's pace if you're wondering and-", I stop a moment, realizing that, as per usual, I'm speaking on and on without giving my girlfriend the opportunity to answer any of my questions. I hear a faint chuckle from her part, when I mutter a faint, "Sorry."

"I was taking a shower, sweetheart, that's why I didn't answer," I frown at the sound of her voice, that appears to be a bit off, tired maybe... but also, kind of restrained. Normally she would tease me, use one of her sarcastic jokes to tell me how silly I am, but none today. "Are you sure it's just that?" It's not that I don't believe her. On the contrary, it's essentially because I do, that I believe there is more to it she isn't saying. Plus, she normally waits for me to take a shower, because it's our thing. One of the moments we share to enjoy the intimacy of one another. Each and every time she reminds me how much she loves to lather and rinse my hair, occasionally leaving sloppy kisses here and there on my skin. Her hands make my stomach flip and my head fly into outer space.

I avert my gaze from the street ahead of me to the phone, tempted to activate the camera, when she hums without giving me a verbal response. "Wilhemina...", I insist, in a sing song tone. She knows that when I use her full name, I'm either concerned or mad. I hope she knows it's not the latter. "Y/n...", she mimics my tone, probably wriggling her eyebrows too. I can't immediately tell if it's an attempt to take the edge off or not. Truth is, she gets particularly annoyed when I insist on asking her how she feels. I've learned to know that the last thing she wants is to feel a burden to me. It doesn't matter how many times I tell her she could never be, that my asking is simply a way to show her I love her. Yet it still doesn't stick in that stubborn head of hers for some reason.

"We have been on the phone for ten minutes and you haven't made any sexual innuendo yet," I point out. I start worrying for real, when she doesn't even chuckle at that. Perhaps, she has a bad back pain? Or maybe those dickheads at work did something bad to her? I need answers or I'll go crazy, "Little one, how many times do I have to tell you I'm fine to make you believe it?", I can tell she is trying to use a more cheerful tone, but it breaks my heart that after all this time she still tries to hide from me. I sigh tiredly, as i slowly massage the root of my nose, "we can continue for all the time you want, or you can just tell me the truth," considering I move at the pace of an ant carrying ten thousand times its weight, I let my guard down and rest my chin over my arm.

I don't hear her tapping her cane, so I suppose she is sitting somewhere, or maybe she is lying down. She normally would have after an answer like that, but purposefully avoids what I just said, to ask, "Are you still long away? Where are you precisely?", her voice seems to crack a bit when she pronounces her second question. Or maybe it's only my imagination considering she insists on saying she is fine. I blink softly, still taking a mental note on that. "Uhm," I look around me, before answering, "I'm pretty close. If it wasn't for this traffic, I'd be there in five minutes at max. I just passed the florist on the 14th street, " I inform her and she hums. I can almost hear her breathing through the phone. It's like she is clinging to it, keeping it super close to her ear. I can almost see her frowning, her slow blinking.

If the camera was on, I'm sure I'd recognize it in a split second. "Mina...", I voice out softly, "are you in pain, love?", she takes a while to respond, giving me the further proof I didn't need. Yet, she decides to keep lying to me. "No, of course not, why would you think that?"she says flatly. As she speaks I shake my head in slow motion, without beliving a single word that is coming out of her. "Babe...", a bitter smile cracks my lips. I'm hurt honestly, but I push past that pain to focus on hers, "I told you, I'm-", "Stop telling me you're fine." I interrupt her, my voice laced with urgency and deep care. I'm pretty sure she's just rolled her eyes at me now, which puts a brief smile on my face. Wilhemina can be the most stubborn woman in the whole world, when she tries.

I lost count of all the times I reminded her that hiding, lying, pretending serve no good in a committed relationship like ours. It's okay to ask for help. It's okay to be in pain and tell your girlfriend about it. There is no shame in it, but Wilhemina is still so proud to let go to such vulnerabilities without a little fight. "Do you want me to lie to you?", I scoff and say, "You're already doing that, that's why I'd like you to stop," I grin softly, when I hear her groan on the other side of the phone.

Without noticing the car before me has come to an halt. I almost bump into it, but I manage to help it by hitting the brake by force the very last minute. My car boings off a bit and as consequence I bounce on the seat, "Woah, shit!", I curse under my breath, but loud enough for Wilhemina to hear. "Y/n? What happened?", she questions, her voice an octave higher, "Are you alright?", I can't help but melt at her caring tone, "Yeah, all good, still alive unluckily for ya, " a hint of a smile graces upon my lips, when she scoffs and calls me imprudent for getting distracted while driving.

I know how much she hates it when I multitask while on the road, but in my defense, she is giving me enough reason to worry about her with all those unnecessary mysteries. "You should keep your eyes on the street, little one. We can talk once-" I don't let her finish, letting out a loud and urgent, "No!", instead. I sigh and move my finger over my smartphone to activate the camera. When she can see me but in return I'm still facing a black screen, I snort again, "I mean it- I will not let you change the topic, Mina," nothing changes yet. "Can I see my girlfriend or should I speak to a black screen?", I pout and she hums in thought, "Come on!", I insist.

"I'd very much prefer you focused on driving, little one," she says as I hear her sigh, and slowly shift position. Something tells me she was lying down by the sound of the sheets moving underneath her. Now she is sitting up, I'm sure, "Please, stay on the phone with me," I whine, displaying my infallible, fine as hell, pickle lips. I hear a faint chuckle from her. She is probably shaking her head too. I'm dying to kiss that face once I'm back home, "Besides, I can multitask," I add to prove my point. I hear her click her tongue in response, a clear sign she doesn't agree with me, "Like that time you tried to make french toasts and record the episodes of 'Orange is the new Black'?", she teases and I gasp in shock. Each and every time, she uses that story against me to prove a point. "Stop using that story! It's as old as the birth of Rome!"

She chuckles, "It doesn't make it less efficient, though," she retorts making me snort, "If you don't turn on the camera right now I'll scream," I'm playing all the cards at my disposal now, and this one beyond my wild expectations works, "Fine! I wouldn't want to arrange your funeral for bumping into a car that goes about eight miles per hour," I squint my eyes towards her and fake a chuckle. When I finally see her, a sense of guilt rushes over me. She looks... exhausted. Her soft red locks, loose on the shoulders, are still partially damp from the shower. Her eyes looks weary, not fully open either, probably because they carry a mild headache along with the back pain. Her lips, however, are stretched in a placid smile. It feels like she is trying to force some vibrancy out of her. But she doesn't have to, especially when she isn't in the mood. I wish she knew.

"It's the back, isn't it?", I say tentatively and she simply gives me a nod of her head. "m' sorry. I'm almost there, alright?", she cracks a smile, ready to diminish her pain, but I hear none of that, "I'll take care of dinner when I come back. Lie down on the left side, I remember it's the position that is most comfortable to you, then uhm— medicine's in my bedside drawer," I continue, remembering to having put a tin of pills there. She raises an eyebrow at that, "Should I run to the drugstore to get you anything else?", if it wasn't for Wilhemina, I'd probably never stop rambling, especially when it comes to her, "Y/n, for the love of God, just relax," there is some strictness in her tone, that makes me obey like a puppy to her owner.

"I'm a big girl. I don't need a babysitter doing things for me," I know she doesn't mean to be harsh with me. It's the pain speaking for her. Instead of answering to the provocation, I simply smile at her, "Oh I know, you certainly don't need a babysitter, but I do, look--" I point out at the greenish spot on my once white and immaculate blouse, "I stained it with the avocado cream," I feel like coming back to life when her eyes soften and she lets out a quiet, low chuckle, while shaking her head, "Why am I not surprised?", she hums amusedly, and I stick my tongue out at her in response. "Have you been working like that all day long?", she wonders in disbelief, while I nod solemnly, "Yep, ma'am," I say, popping the "p" childishly, "Add the laundry to the list of things you have to do once you come back," she teases and I giggle softly, "Fist things first," I say, with a wink.

"Oh, I wonder what those would be?", I pretend to think a couple of seconds, before saying, "Kissing my girlfriend for a start, brushing her hair, giving her a massage, make her some tea, kissing her again--", Mina hardly stifles a laugh and says, "Alright, fine, I got it. Get your ass over here, I've waited long enough," I nibble on my bottom lip as I recognize the familiar twinkle in her eyes. "Oh, my, my, looks like I've arrived," I chant and before we know it I find myself stopping the car right in front of our house. She smiles and a light blush comes coloring her cheeks, "At last," she mutters, looking at me with nothing but pure love in the eyes.

#american horror story #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson #writing prompts #sarah paulson images #wilhemina venable #cute and fluffy #wlw

30 notes · View notes