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mountymase · 18 days

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i love you, it’s ruining my life

file one - mason mount

a/n: well, hi! i’d like to say that this isn’t my fave work but i’ve been mostly writing poetry lately and i needed to see if i still had my fanfic mojo. hope you like it nonetheless! 🤍

1.820 words

warnings: real angst, brief mention of anxiety, breakup, bit of fluff, harsh words.

It felt more like a ritual, one that you loved dearly - each morning, Lila, your pup woke you up with cheerful and endless face licks, her tail wiggling in the air, her frantic need to get under the covers with you and cuddle like you always did every morning. Your heart warmed with joy as you silently giggled, an arm tugging the two-year-old basset hound closer making her immediately calm down as a long sigh escaped from her.

There was something else about mornings like these: they brought a feeling of normality to the wild, nonetheless extraordinary routine you jumped into since your first book had been published — not your first piece of promising writing, but the one that turned into a giant success that started taking global proportions within six months, forcing you to travel around the globe on a tour to meet countless and extraordinary people.

And also to sign autographs for most of them.

They were boys and girls, mums, teenagers, middle-aged women, single women, and a bunch in long-lasting relationships. It didn’t matter, your writing reached every single one of them and, somehow, they now all had something in common: how much they loved your book.

All of it was still overwhelming to you, though. Coming from a small town where nothing fascinating used to happen, you’d spend your days writing when you weren’t with your regular group of friends from school. Getting used to the big city once you moved to graduate in journalism was difficult — you missed those peaceful days, watching the sunrise when you went for a morning jog, birds singing, and how comforting silence could be every evening. But you were also grateful for all the opportunities given and how unexpectedly great things turned out to be for you.

Moving to London had never been in your foreseeable future, although visiting England was one of your greatest dreams from a very young age when you used to spend hours listening to The Beatles and Elton John with your dad.

When you got a call from one of Netflix UK executives, telling you they’d like to turn your book into a miniseries, you choked on a large croissant bite. It took you a couple of minutes to put yourself together as the executive patiently waited, a low giggle coming from the other side of the line once you took a deep breath and asked if they were calling the right number.

So, from the afternoons of Penny Lane and Benny and The Jets, you ended up officially living in an extravagant flat located in Mayfair, fully paid for by Netflix UK, and dropped the news of your book being turned into a miniseries, officially, on a morning TV show.

If you didn’t have such an impatient dog, who was now staring at you with her best “feed me, human” glare, you would’ve stayed in bed for the rest of the day. The thought of being live in one of the biggest morning TV shows in England, sharing the screen with another famous guest made you feel immensely intimidated, and vulnerable.

But, from the very beginning, he made you feel safe.

Mason.

He was the other guest that day, invited to share more on his success playing for Chelsea FC and the charity of which he was a patron of. During the break, he noticed how you rubbed your sweaty hands against your jeans and how all your blood seemed to be concentrated in your cheeks - half of it wasn’t just the nervousness, though, it was also because of how intense his gaze was.

Mason’s voice soothed your nerves like magic once he caught your attention during those two minutes, and you were wonderfully calm telling Holly Willoughby about the serie’s pre-production, cast choices, etc.

And as expected, once it was all over, Mason asked if you’d like to go out with him for coffee.

The two of you instantly clicked, like magnets completely drawn into each other, so it was easy and fun being around him. His inner circle wasn’t entirely the nicest, but as you grew closer and became extremely close friends, Mason introduced you to his family and you finally had a mother figure to welcome you with warm embraces since yours was miles away.

You were supposed to be just friends, but the beauty of how well you got along despite each other’s imperfections felt like a glitch in a system that led to something magical. In the end, together, you and Mason discovered that true love can arise from the most unexpected and delightful surprises.

That was 2.190 days ago or, more specifically, six years.

Now, you found yourself facing the diamond ring on your finger, glistening under the moonlight.

Mason broke up with you, for good this time, because you were ruining his life. His words.

You, of all people.

You, who loved him the most.

Him, who was simply your whole world, just as much as you were his.

Still watching the engagement ring on your finger, you tried to remember when your relationship started to crumble. Perhaps, it was right after he returned home from the World Cup, even if it had been just a few months that he proposed. Things started to get difficult for him at Chelsea and he was distant, such a stupid cliche. Classic miscommunication, so finding comfort at your own work was the only thing you could do and you isolated yourself at the cottage you bought in Scotland so you could write in peace - eventually, you fell down the same old cycle of isolating, writing compulsively, and just a few months later having to leave everything behind to promote the book.

A book full of personal poems, this time.

Tears rolled down your cheeks and you sniffed when you remembered how Mason spat the words at you.

“How fucking dare you to expose us like this?” He breathed heavily, anger in his eyes like you’ve never seen before. “You never make things easier for me. It’s always all about you,”

You frowned as his words still echoed in the back of your mind - everything you’ve done was always about him, from the moment you two met on that TV show. What was supposed to be a polite talk in the beginning, ended in a heated argument fueled by miscommunication and insecurities and more harsh words from him while you just listened. According to Mason, while he was always including you in his career choices, your commitment to your own career outweighed your commitment to your relationship.

“My career will never betray me,” it was automatic, you didn’t think before saying those words, and you only noticed the damage when Mason’s eyes glistened with tears.

“I would never do that to you, but if that’s what you believe…” Mason sniffed. You watched him shake his head and focus his gaze on the wall - anything not to look at you. “I love you, Y/n. But it’s ruining my life.”

A shy lick on your hand brought you back from painful memories and you were able to smile a bit as Lila watched you with those sleepy eyes.

“It’s just the two of us now,” you mumbled, touching her nose with the tip of your index finger.

Scotland has been your permanent home for the past two weeks since the breakup. You tried to reach him, tried to call him, and even texted his family, but no one replied. Even his friends were gone and it felt like Mason and the life you shared with him were nothing but a dream. The only thing that you still had was the engagement ring, that never left your finger.

Two weeks were also making you realise that, perhaps, Mason was right. You should’ve talked to him, should’ve put him first, and asked how he’d feel instead of making how you felt about everything so public. Even if there were no names, everyone knew that most of those poems were about Mason - the good ones, but mostly, the bad ones where you romanticised all of your struggles.

There was nothing but regret and sorrow for you.

Lila’s lazy and hoarse barking woke you up. At her own speed, she went back and forth from your bedroom to the front door, scratching her nails on it as she was desperate to see who was knocking on your door at three in the damn morning. If you weren’t so sleepy, you’d care more about the marks it was leaving on the wood.

Letting out a loud yawn, you slowly opened the door to find Mason on the other side, puffy eyes and messy hair, with both hands in his pockets.

“You shouldn’t open the door without knowing who it is. Not at this time of the night,” you frowned at his whispered words, not knowing exactly what to say. “Are you going to let me in? It’s cold,”

You quickly nodded, taking a step back so he could walk in and be greeted by Lila. His giggle as the basset hound lazily wiggled her tail made you smile softly - you missed the sound of his giggle. You missed everything about Mason.

“She misses you,” and so do I, you wanted to say. Mason just nodded. “Are you here to take the ring back?”

His sigh was the only sound that filled the room for a few seconds before he let go of Lila to finally look at you. He was a mess, just as much as you.

“No”, Mason replied. A knot formed on your stomach and you suddenly felt the urge to vomit - anxiety always did that to you. “I’m here to take you back.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, but you also felt a slight anger burn your chest and bring tears to your eyes. Crossing your arms against your chest, you watched Mason carefully as he seemed to wait for an answer - he looked absolutely defeated, but he let out a sigh of relief once his eyes caught the diamond ring still on your finger.

“I thought I was responsible for ruining your life.”

Mason nodded. “But you also put it back together, Y/n.”

His words completely disarmed you - arms fell to the sides of your body, but quickly wrapped around his waist. In Mason’s arms, you silently cried. “I should’ve talked to you, Mase. I’m so sorry,” Mason’s hands traveled up and down your back, comforting you, as his lips found your forehead, then your cheeks and your nose, in soft and gentle kisses.

“I overreacted,” you shook your head, but Mason cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “I did, but I hope you can forgive me.”

“If you can forgive me,”

“We’re both forgiven, then.”

A brief interruption, a slight malfunction

(...)

I thought we had no chance

And that's romance, let's dance.

#mason mount fanfic #mason mount x you #mason mount x reader

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dreamersbcll · 10 months

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“Late” -

tw: suicide, suicidal ideation

if this triggers you in anyway, please do not read. thank you.

—————————

Mindy knocked on Tara’s door impatiently, cursing under her breath. The pair were already twenty minutes late to the movie they were supposed to see. That was like two whole trailers that Mindy was missing- and she refused to miss the rest.

“Tara. Open the fucking door. We’re late, get your ass moving!”.

No answer.

Which wasn’t completely strange, Tara had been a bit of a recluse since Sam disappeared a few weeks ago. Mindy had been showing up to the Carpenter house every day to drag Tara out and do something fun. Most times she was able to get the girl to smile.

Mindy still saw that empty, hollow sadness in Tara’s eyes. But there was nothing she could do unless she could move heaven and earth to get Sam back. Movies and walks it was until she could get Tara to consistently smile again.

She knocked again, but no answer. Jiggling the doorknob, she realized it was locked. Sighing, she snaked her hand into her pockets, fishing out the key she had made for Tara’s door. The girl was clever, but no match for Mindy.

As she unlocked it, she quickly realized that something was very wrong. The curtains were closed, and Tara’s room was a mess. Her journals were ripped open, loose pages all over the floor. The bed wasn’t made and clothing was strewn across it. And in the corner of the room was Tara, a knife in her hand, poised over a bare wrist.

“Tara!”

Mindy descended across the floor and fell to her knees, ripping the knife out of Tara’s hand, and throwing it across the floor. It clattered against the ground; the noise mixing with Mindy’s panic and Tara’s wheezy breaths.

She grabbed Tara’s wrist, checking it over. Once satisfied that nothing was wrong, she started yelling.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? What the fuck Tara! A knife? Suicide? Are you fucking kidding me?” she shouted, not caring if the house shook with her anger. It wouldn’t be the first rageful person to stalk the halls of the Carpenter house. And it probably wouldn’t be the last.

Tara bared her teeth, wheezing as she shouted back. “I can’t do this anymore!”

“What? You can’t do what? Live? Jesus Christ Tara, don’t be fucking stupid. You can do this. Your sister may be gone but that doesn’t mean you have to!” Mindy retorted back incredulously.

“Amber said that if someone left her like that, she would kill herself. So why the fuck does it matter? People who love you don’t leave you like that. It’s clear how Sam feels about it,” Tara hissed, trying to snatch her arm from Mindy’s grip.

Not letting go of Tara’s arm, Mindy gritted her teeth, taking a deep breath. “Okay, but Amber fucking Freeman isn’t the one to decide shit for you. For God's sake Tara, think! Is ending your life before knowing what could happen really what you want to do?”

“You don’t understand! She was my life, my blood, my reason to breathe! I can’t breathe Mindy, I can’t fucking breathe anymore!” the girl gasped, her eyes glassy.

Mindy loosened her grip a bit, frowning. This was uncharted waters. She thought that Tara was being overdramatic, but this- this was different. She loved her brother dearly, but she would cope without him here. This didn’t feel like the relationship she had with her brother. The way Tara wheezed and looked unsteady unnerved her. She wasn’t prepared for this.

But it was going to happen anyway.

Tara yanked her arm from Mindy, continuing with her train of thought. “Every morning I wake up, and for the first five seconds, I forget all of it happened. The fighting, the scars, the screaming, her departure- I forget it all. But then I open my eyes and it’s the same hell every day. Every. Fucking. Day. You don’t know what that’s like, having the person who knows you the best gone. Sam fucking left me, and I’m just supposed to live on and be okay? I can’t do that. I can’t be okay. She is my reason to keep going. Without her I have none,”.

Mindy blinked. “Not even for your friends?” she whispered, suddenly aware of the dire situation that she was facing.

The shorter girl shook her head sadly, letting tears spill down her face. “I love you guys. But I love Sam more.”

With that, Mindy noticed Tara’s free hand unclenched, an empty pill bottle rolling out of it.

“Tara,” she paused, time slowing down around her. She noticed that the loose journal pages were Sam’s old drawings and notes. The clothing across the bed was clothing that Tara had stolen from her big sister. The curtains were drawn and there was a envelope stuck to one of them. “How many did you take?”.

The girl just looked at Mindy miserably, her eyes unfocused. How long have they looked like that? Has Tara been wheezing the whole time? Was Tara always that pale?

“I’m sorry, Min. I am.”

#scream #tara carpenter #carpenter sisters #mindy meeks martin #i’m sorry i really am #no ghostface just pain #happy monday?#sam carpenter #ao3 author #my writing tag #AU: go with grace

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anarchuu · 7 months

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Make way for the conductor, Lyra songbird!

I’ve been burnt out from school and i can only handle drawing and thinking about ocs instead of doing work, i feel like i can’t make it but i can try. Recently i finished the first season of ducktales and was inspired to make my own characters, i only got to finish lyra’s reference while the others are a work in progress or haven’t been drawn yet, this is also my second making this post because i seem to have lost the previous one, i wrote quite a bit, what a hassle. Either way, i’ll try to write every down again a second time

Lyra is a Lyrebird, Dakila is an Albino Green peafowl, Avery is a Red tailed tropical bird, Ivette, Idris, Irene and Ilana are White browed tit warbler

Lyra Songbird

Lyra comes from a wealthy family, both of her parents were famous musicians and frequently out of the house leaving lyra by herself at home, often times she spent her time in the music room or goes out of the family manor to take a stroll in the nearby woods. She doesn’t necessarily have any friends, she grew up alone. She is quite the headstrong girl with a hint of mischief, she may come off as a bit pretentious but do know she means well. She would fight for any she deems close to her and would never back down to any challenge, whether or not she can take it is out of the question.

Dakila

Dakila is a model and also comes from a wealthy family, he is quite popular but often mistaken for a girl, he is simply comfortable with his femininity. He keeps a cool demeanor on all times and people seem to think he judges people but fret not, he just looks like that. He is levelheaded and rational, while he may prefer not to, the spotlight seems to be always on him but he takes it with stride and confidence. Dakila, like lyra, also grew up alone, he was around other models his age often of course but he never formed any real connection, he struggles with expressing his own emotions, please be patient with him

Avery

Avery is a young gymnast, competing in various competitions and always coming out on top, she is hardworking and unwavering when it comes to her performance, outside of it however, she is a laidback individual and charismatic, she gets along with people easily and others seem to be at ease around her naturally. Avery is highly supportive of other’s endeavors and becomes their number one cheerleader, as well as reminding them to take breaks if needed. Ironically she never takes her own advice and overworks herself to the bone with every practice, she seems to think she doesn’t need breaks, a hypocrite in that regard

Ivette

Ivette is a quiet girl, she almost never speaks if not at all but she is sometimes seen whispering to her siblings at times. She doesn’t mind interacting with others, albeit non verbally. She prefers to observe her surroundings instead of interacting with it and she quite enjoys it. Ivette can be quite forgetful and easily distractible, losing her way in the day’s schedule but fortunately she always keeps a journal at hand that she spends most of her times writing in, it helps her keep on track and she also writes tidbits about the people she’s closer with in her journal so she won’t forget, all her thoughts and ideas are safely kept within this journal

Idris

Idris is the eldest out of the quadruplets, stern and a no nonsense type of person yet holds the softest spot for his sisters, he dearly loves them and can be quite protective over them and not letting anyone he deems as untrustworthy near his sisters. He is very wary and cautious around others, he doesn’t trust people easily so you’d have to prove yourself to him first before getting close. He almost never relaxes and only relaxes when he’s with his sisters where he feels most safe at. He may be a little harsh in people but he is a gentle person at heart if you look at him closely, he always keeps people’s best interest in mind

Irene

Irene is awfully timid girl, most seen to be hiding behind her siblings and never seen not holding onto them, she is very soft spoken and only speaks when needed be, she only says whats she needs to say and never adds more to it. When she’s in a comfortable environment, she can be such a chatterbox especially when it comes to her interests. Ivette takes interest in many things and like her sister Ivette, she’s fascinated by her surroundings, she’ll spend hours looking into details in what currently catches her eyes, she is very passionate and meticulous in her research

Ilana

Ilana is the most carefree and friendly out of her siblings, she is the one who initiates all conversations with people in day to day life, how chatty she is. Which is funny since she can be the complete opposite when with her siblings. When in private, she’d tend to listen to her siblings talk instead, she especially loves listening to Irene since she talks about the most interesting things in her opinion. She doesn’t mind talking for her siblings at all, she’d do anything for them as long as they’re happy, she always considers others feelings before her own and will do her best to accommodate others

And that’s pretty much them, there’s others too that’ll appear once i draw them, for now just these ones. Their group together would be called ‘orchestra’ and Lyra would be the perfect conductor

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #ducktales oc #oc #original characters #art #character art #dt17 #Spotify

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luluwantstoloveagain · 7 months

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I know I barely have any followers on here (apart from my biggest fans, the #tumblrbots) so really I am just throwing this into the void - it's funny, it's like throwing a paper aeroplane off a hill knowing where it will land...I digress.

Autumn is my favourite season (obviously, because it's the best), but it can get tough and pass by too quickly. I'm collecting problems and disorders like a hyperfixation. SO, here is a list of things that are making life bearable as a sort of log for myself, or if anyone were to stumble across this, these things might help too.

First off, I've started re-reading My Year of Rest and Relaxation, by Ottessa Moshfegh. I know everyone (especially Book-Tok) have their own opinion of it, but I cannot deny that it is an enjoyable read especially when you're going through it. There's something very comforting in the fact that the protagonist just halts everything in her life and drops off for a good while. No it's not healthy. No I definitely shouldn't consider doing it. But ugh a girl can dream.

Now onto music - Lorde's music has been a kind of medicine, or at least a pick-me-up since I was 15 and thought that every inconvenience was the end of the world. Well, now I'm 20 and not much has changed. To listen to Pure Heroin in my adolescence and to now be at Solar Power, Lorde has encapsulated this weird feeling of growing pains that I've found difficult myself to describe;

"Cause all the music you loved at 16 you'll grow out of And all the times, they will change, it'll all come around" 'Stoned at the Nail Salon', Solar Power, Lorde.

She also releases these newsletters every so often which are really lovely to read. You can sign up to them here:

I saw her on tour with my two best friends at the time (childhood, and college) and it was honestly the best concert I've ever been to. For the sake of nostalgia, I'll insert a clip of it.

Writing has also been helping. It's cathartic and you can just word vomit on a page with your pen and let it all out. The best thing is, no one else has to see it. You can right something down just to screw up the page, tear it up, burn it (responsibly, please). I'm on my third journal right now and it's one of those objects that if someone asks you, 'if you were on a desert island, what 3 objects would you bring with you', it would be one of them. The cover is of Bridge over a Pond of Water Lilies, 1899 by Claude Monet and it has this gorgeous shine on it. I love it so dearly, and I love the words written inside of it even more.

I think that's it for now. It's time to go rot in my bedroom...

#depression posting #coping skills #actually mentally ill #otessa moshfegh #lorde #claude monet

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piratesgiftexchange · 2 years

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all my love

for @elventhespian, by @crowwithaccesstotheinternet

PROMPT: “My soul I do swear for fresh, in-character Willabeth fic or any Willabeth art: angsty, tender, sexy, funny, adventurous, Pre-Cotp, pre-AWE, an oddball AU–whatever, just… I *need* it. I would especially love something that isn’t done as much or hasn’t been done before. The One Day Beach Scene, after-curse reunion and their private swordfighting lessons have been done many times–I will NOT complain if you choose those, but would be extra delighted if it was something less explored” WORD COUNT: 2524

Elizabeth Turner, neé Swann, stood on the sand and silently watched the Flying Dutchman as it disappeared below the horizon in a flash of green light. One day. Ten years. And Will was a man of his word- she knew he would never make the same mistake as Davy Jones and abandon his duties. In that moment, she both loved and hated him for it. With a start, Elizabeth realized she was crying. They’d gone through so much, sacrificed so much to be together… and this was it. This was all she got.

With a sigh, she wiped the tears from her face and slowly began walking across the beach back to her rowboat. A cool breeze whipped across her skin, tangling her hair into knots. Seabirds wheeled above the water, crying out, and the rhythmic lapping of the waves against the shore served as the beat to which one thought repeated again and again in her mind: What on Earth am I going to do now?

Elizabeth frowned, deep in contemplation as she began to row across the water towards the Black Pearl. What now? Her options, the way she figured them, were thus: she could go back to land, leave piracy behind her and attempt to return to polite society and an ordinary life, or…

She looked at where the Black Pearl was anchored, its sails rustling in the breeze.

Or she could stay. Retain her title as Pirate King, and live the life of adventure she’d dreamed of since she was a little girl. Elizabeth had no interest in living under anyone else’s shadow; she’d have to procure a ship and a crew for herself, but that could be done easily enough. It would be difficult, and not to mention dangerous, but…

She smiled to herself as the rowboat came up alongside the Black Pearl. The choice was obvious.

That night, as she sat in her cabin writing in her journal, her thoughts began to drift back to her husband. To the steady beating of a heart locked away in a chest she’d hidden. It was strange, the way she found herself missing him. The unfairness of their separation made her uselessly angry, and she felt the beginnings of grief for how much of each other’s lives they were going to miss- but the ache was already dulled, as though it was either an old pain or one she had yet to fully feel.

Elizabeth set down her quill… and then paused, considering. Flipping to a fresh page, not quite knowing what she was doing, she began to write:

My dearest Will,

Although it has yet to be even a full day since we parted, I miss you dearly. I don’t quite know what to do with myself over it. My mind keeps turning to you, aboard the Dutchman- I am ever so thankful that at least you are not alone and that you are with your father. That your reunion came at such a cost is cruelly unfair. I hope the two of you are able to make up for lost time together.

I don’t know why I’m writing this to you. I suppose it helps to imagine you reading letters of mine, somehow- makes this whole mess we’ve found ourselves in seem a little less permanent.

Today, after you left, I had to decide what I wanted to do next. The future feels so unimaginably vast- after all we’ve been through, nearly anything at all seems possible. It scares me a little, but it excites me as well. I think I’m going to stay at sea, Will. I thought about it for a long time and I don’t think I could ever return back to a quiet life on land. I don’t think I have it in me to walk away from all of this. I don’t think I ever did, really.

It wasn’t until I really considered the thought of leaving my title as King behind that I realized how scared I was of going back to being stifled, to sanding down all my sharp edges and blunting my teeth. So I’m going to make a go of it here, as Pirate King. I’m going to find a fleet of my own to command, and put together a crew, and likely send a lot more men your way.

I don’t know what the future is going to look like, but I know I’ll always have an eye on the horizon and my heart fixed on the day when I’ll get to see you again.

All my love,

Elizabeth

She tore the page from her journal and cast around for an empty bottle. Elizabeth knew it was desperately foolish, but even the dimmest chance that Will might read her words, that the two of them might not be entirely cut off from each other, was enough for her to roll up her letter and seal it within an empty bottle of rum. Before she could lose her nerve entirely, she stepped out of her cabin and crept up to the deck, bottle in hand.

It was a full moon, clouds skittering across the horizon above the endless dark sea. The cold, salt-tinged nighttime wind ghosted across her skin. Elizabeth looked down over the ship’s railing at the fathomless waters beneath, took a deep breath, and lightly tossed her message in a bottle over the side of the Black Pearl.

She watched it bob up and down on the waves for a few moments before turning away. She was almost entirely certain that Will would never lay eyes on her letter, but she felt better for having written it anyways.

It took several weeks for her to stop glancing at the ocean every other minute in search of a reply, but soon enough her mind was filled with other, more pressing issues. In the span of a few weeks, she’d forgotten about the letter completely.

Will Turner, former blacksmith’s apprentice and newly christened captain of the Flying Dutchman, stood on the deck of his ship as it slipped across the waves. It was a fine day, nothing but gentle white clouds and endlessly rolling ocean in sight, and the tattered sails of his ship billowed in the wind. Will could hear the sound of his crew working steadily behind him, keeping his ship running at a swift pace.

He could feel his crew, too, by virtue of some supernatural sense that constantly lay in the back of his mind. All he had to do was reach for that awareness and he could sense exactly where his crew and the spirits under his care were. It was vague, and faint enough to ignore most of the time, but it had been one of the most unexpected parts of taking on Davy Jones’ role.

Right now, everyone was where they should be: his crew working up top, and the souls of the dead belowdecks. The ends of Will’s coat fluttered in the breeze as he gazed out at the neverending ocean. Today he felt odd- contemplative, perhaps. He’d barely had a moment to himself to think since becoming the Dutchman’s captain. It had been a steep, strange learning curve, one that he was only now beginning to get used to.

Really, he didn’t think he was ever going to get used to the emptiness in his chest.

Silence where a pulse had been.

Emptiness where his wife had once stood next to him.

Ten years, he reminded himself. Or, well, less than that now actually. Nine years, ten months, and twenty-three days.

With a sigh, he began to walk along the deck, his hand trailing along the railing. He probably ought to go below and check on the dead…

Wait, what was that? A flash of light in the water below caught his eye. Upon further inspection, it seemed to be some kind of glass bottle glinting in the sunlight. Will frowned. That’s unusual. Something about it felt important, somehow.

In a few minutes, Will had the bottle in his hands and a feeling of anticipation building in his gut. There was a rolled up message sealed within. He had the strangest feeling that… but no, that wasn’t possible.

He unrolled the letter and began to read:

My dearest Will…

Shock rippled through him like a stone dropped in a still pond. There was absolutely no mistaking those sloping letters; that was Elizabeth’s handwriting.

She’d written him a letter.

Will read through the rest of her words in something near disbelief. By the time he finished, a feeling of unexpected happiness and profound love had risen in his chest, so bright and strong it was almost painful. He silently thanked every lucky star that Calypso had taken mercy on them, and hurried to go search for some paper and a quill.

Dearest Elizabeth,

I barely even know what to say- I never once thought to expect that perhaps I would be able to hear from you again, that you, my clever wife, might find some way to circumvent our separation. I love you so much, with all of my heart, all of my love, for all of eternity my dear. Your letter was the most precious gift to me- when I was reading your words it was almost as if I could hear your voice in my ear, like we were reunited already. Thank you. I miss you every day.

I, too, am glad to be with my father. Although in all honesty some days I don’t quite know how to feel about it. Thankful, I suppose, that fate has given us more time together. But lately I’ve become quite- regretful, perhaps, thinking of my mother and the fact that she is not here with us to be reunited as I have been. It’s a grief that never quite goes away, I think. Of course logically I know that I am no longer an orphan, but some nights my heart (or the echo of it) has trouble remembering.

But I’d rather not fill a letter to you with such maudlin things. Who knows if this shall ever even reach you, after all! I’m glad you’ve decided to keep your title and your life at sea. I daresay that there has never been a more utterly terrifying pirate to sail these waters than you and for the world’s sake I hope there never shall be. When your mind is fixed on something there is hardly a force in all of creation that would dare stand in your way.

And I sincerely hope that you never again feel the need to be anything less than the incredible, razor-sharp woman that you are. As Jack and Gibbs like to say- ‘Take what you can, and give nothing back.’

You have my heart always and are in my thoughts nearly every day. Take care, Elizabeth.

All of my love,

Will

Will carefully rolled up the letter and sealed it away in a glass bottle. As he watched it slowly drift away on the waves, he prayed that this miracle of Elizabeth’s would work again.

Elizabeth liked to think of herself as a quick study when it came to learning new things, and in recent years- having spent far more time in the company of pirates than was strictly respectable- she’d picked up her fair share of knowledge. Namely: sailing, fighting, gambling, drinking to excess, and- most relevant to this particular moment- swearing filthily enough to make the Devil himself blush.

Anamaria, her recently hired first mate and budding confidante, stood a few feet away with her arms crossed and her cool gaze resting on Elizabeth. “Are you about finished?”

“Fuck,” said Elizabeth, with feeling, as her mind circled back to that same inevitable question she seemed to find herself asking far too often: “What the hell am I going to do now?”

“Take some time,” Anamaria said, taking a few steps over to where Elizabeth stood. “and think about it. You have options, you know.” She reached out and laid a hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder, their eyes meeting. “Whatever you decide, you’ll have me and the rest of the crew in your corner to support you.”

Elizabeth nodded, breathing in deep. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” The worries that had begun to spiral endlessly in her mind were starting to feel slightly more manageable now. She gestured towards the door. “I think I’m going to go take a walk and think, like you said.”

After all, getting some fresh air certainly couldn’t hurt. Elizabeth took a deep breath as she stepped outside, letting the feel of the open sea wash over her.

Pregnant. She was pregnant.

And she had absolutely no idea how to feel about it.

Overjoyed, of course, and happy beyond all belief. Surprised. Shocked, really. Scared shitless, and anxious beyond measure.

All of it twisted together in her chest, a roiling mess of emotions and worries. I can’t raise a child at sea. I can’t leave the sea behind.

She made her way to the edge of the deck, resting her arms on the railing as she let out a sigh. I wish Will was here.

Below her, the waves lapped rhythmically against the side of her ship. The sun was setting, and the clouds above were a blaze of fiery color that reflected like scattered gold across the sea. Elizabeth let her head drop down to rest against the cool wood of the railing, closing her eyes to just breathe for a second.

After a few moments, she opened her eyes… and her heart nearly leapt right out of her chest. Right below her, glinting in the water, was a bottle sealed with a cork. She squinted. Was that a rolled-up sheet of paper inside, or were her eyes tricking her?

Either way, she definitely wasn’t going to take any chances. “Somebody bring me a ladder right now!” Elizabeth shouted.

It was brawny Qianyu who hurried over with a rope ladder in hand, her long black braid swinging behind her. Elizabeth scurried over the side of the ship as quickly as she could, reaching down to scoop up the lazily bobbing bottle. She held it up to eye level, a triumphant grin rapidly spreading across her face. There were several sheets of paper inside!

As soon as she was back onboard she immediately pried the cork free, ignoring the stares of her crew.

Dearest Elizabeth…

Elizabeth let out a helpless laugh. It had worked. They’d actually found a way! Bright, piercing joy glowed warm within her, coupled with an overwhelming, overpowering love for Will. He’d gotten her letter! He’d written back!

She closed her eyes, feeling the press of tears. It was such a small thing, but at that moment it meant nothing less than the entire world to her. When she next saw Tia Dalma, she was going to buy the goddess so many drinks.

With a smile wide on her face, she opened her eyes and continued to read her husband’s words.

All of a sudden, ten years was beginning to feel a whole lot shorter.

#pirates of the caribbean #potc #potc fanfic #anamaria #will turner #elizabeth swann #submission #round 2

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umbralaether · 2 years

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20 & 31 ;D

Already answered 20 (link later, on mobile sry)

here’s 31. Doing a pinky swear

Idyllshire was a place of perseverance, of tinkering and crafting and forging a way forward. It was for dreamers, thinkers, and doers. She loved the energy every time she came here, a little community built from those who never give up, who thrive when given the chance. Who face the brands of scrutiny with a shining tenacity.

It was also a place that held a little Miqo’te girl named Khloe, who already dreamed harder than most and was filled with wonder. A little girl whom Eisha had been bringing countless stories to for years now, who shrilled with glee every time she came to visit.

A little girl Eisha cared for dearly, and made an effort to visit as much as she could. She rounds the corner and makes her way to the girl’s stand.

“Miss Eisha! You’re back!” Khloe sings gleefully.

Eisha crouches down to meet the girls height, “Little Miss Khloe, indeed I am.”

As always, Khloe’s mind was on one thing, and one thing only, “You have stories for me right? You always have the bestest stories!”

Eisha laughs, pulling the journal out of her bag, “I think you’ll like these ones, there’s a dragon or two this time.”

“Really? I love the dragons cause they can fly! I wish I could fly. Those stories are the coolest!” Khloe takes the journal happily, admiring the worn cover with joy.

This was always the best part, the happiness Khloe had for stories and adventure. Even modified to suit a child’s whims, it was something she enjoyed recording. The novelty of battle, recalling her foes. Things she didn’t want to always carry with her, heavy and dark, but easier to carry when she wrote them in books.

“Miss Eisha?” Khloe’s voice brings her back to the present, “You’re going to bring me more stories, right?”

“Of course I will, why do you ask?”

“Well… I heard Zhloe and the other grown ups saying you were leaving, where are you going?” Her eyes are wide, pure innocence.

“Oh. Well, you see… I have to go oversea and help some people. It’s really important that I go, so that no one gets hurt.” It’s not a lie, it’s as gentle as she can deliver.

“Just like in your stories! There will be monsters there too, right? And you’ll fight them and win!” The girl jumps up and down in excitement.

“That’s the plan, Little Miss.” If there’s anything she’ll be sure to do, it’s give Khloe something to remember, “I have something for you to do while I’m gone.”

She hands her a small light purple journal, and matching quill, “I know you’ve been practicing your writing. I want to give you this, so you can write me stories too.”

Khloe takes the gifts, hands gripping the leather tightly as she admires it, “For me? Really? I can’t believe it! You want to read my stories too?”

“I sure do. You’ve been listening to all of mine, and I’m sure you’ve got plenty of stories I haven’t heard yet.”

Khloe ponders this a moment before saying, “You pinky swear you’ll be back soon? I might fill up this book before you’re back!” She holds out her pinky.

Eisha laughs, locking her pinky with the girl’s, “I pinky swear I’ll be back very soon. You’d better be ready with stories then!”

She keeps Khloe in mind as she recalls her memories of walking to the end of the universe, of trying and giving your all for the sake of mankind. The thoughts will need to be polished, refined for younger ears. But Khloe would know of the day they faced the end of days and won.

#she is precious and I’ve adopted her ok #thanks for asking! 💜#ffxiv #khloe aliapoh #Zhloe aliapoh #my writing #eisha pantera #woundrous tales #ffxiv writing

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kootiepatra · 2 years

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#FFxivWrite2022 - Day 17 Prompt: "Novel"

Is this story anything close to canon? No. Does it do justice to the characters involved? Probably not. Did it get ahold of my brain so hard that I had to write it anyway? ...yeah. :|

I'm sorry, and/or you're welcome.

=======================

Lyna opened the door to the Umbilicus with trepidation, unable to help but feel like she was intruding upon sacred ground. A part of her mind still felt like a little girl, nosing around the tower, trying to investigate locked-away corners that her guardian had bid her avoid.

When she was yet a child, she had pressed that boundary once, and only once. She had immediately gotten lost and stumbled into some manner of ancient defense mechanism. The Exarch was attuned enough to the tower to immediately intervene, and all in all, no harm was done. He did not even properly scold her. But she had learned her lesson—never again.

As she had grown older, she came to understand that the Umbilicus itself was not dangerous like other parts of the tower were. The Exarch had always kept it very, very private nonetheless. Her love and trust for him had bound her to never intrude. He had saved her life, and the lives of so many of her countrymen. He had raised her. He labored night and day to fight for her world and keep it safe. The Crystarium would not even exist were it not for his generosity and wisdom. So if he insisted upon this strict secrecy, it was the least she could do to honor it. Never once did she so much as turn the lock—not even when he was away from the tower, and not even now as his body stood unmoving, a fixture overlooking Norvrandt forevermore.

So it was no wonder that today, although she was full grown and in sole charge of the key, she still had to consciously remind herself: this was allowed. Requested, even.

It had been quite some time since the Exarch had sent his soul back to his homeland. She missed his presence dearly. At least she could be thankful that she was in somewhat regular contact with his Galdjent companion, Keimwyda. Lyna did not fully understand why this woman, and she alone, could come and go as she pleased between worlds, but she counted it as a blessing that she could. She often came bearing letters, but she always came bearing stories. They were good stories, too: warm and kind, and just embarrassing enough to be endearing. Exactly how Lyna liked them.

The Exarch—though no one back on his world knew him that way—seemed to be getting on wonderfully in his new life. Lyna smiled as she thought of him traveling far and wide, without being drained by sheer distance from the tower. She smiled and nearly cried to think of him mingling freely with others, face uncovered, true name known, free of the burden of the fate of two simultaneous worlds. He sounded happy, and she was happy for him. So of course when he made a request of her, she would by no means deny him.

He had sent a letter with Keimwyda once again, who had delivered it to Lyna and chatted pleasantly for a while before heading off to other business. In the missive, he told her how often he thought of her and how much he missed her. He spoke of his recent adventures which, somehow unsurprisingly, again seemed to bend towards saving the world. Picking fights with literal deities now, was he? Of course he was. “Stay safe, old man,” she whispered to the page as she read.

Coming to the point, he had asked for her help.

"If I may, I would impose on you for a favor. During my time in your world, I took some notes on a subject which I believe may help my colleagues and I on our current mission. It would save me a great deal of time to not to start over on compiling them. Please allow yourself into the Umbilicus—among the leather journals on the table is the one I seek. You will know it by its first page, which will have a sketch of some early designs for the Crystarium.

The Warrior of Darkness has her own purposes on this journey, and I would not trouble her with my dusty old books. And since there is none else but you whom I would trust with that access, I fear I must trouble you instead, if you are willing.

Please send the book with Keimwyda when she is ready to make her return.

A strange request, but if Lyna knew the Exarch at all, he occasionally operated on logic all his own. It would likely make more sense in hindsight. And thus she gingerly made her way into the room she had resolved never to see.

For all of the mystique surrounding it in her mind, built up over a lifetime of wondering, the room was overall unremarkable. There was some manner of device set against the wall which she did not recognize and knew far better than to touch. And otherwise there were mostly just books. Yes, on the desk, but spilling onto the floor and piled up in the corners. She regarded the sheer volume in awe, her eyes scanning across titles she did not understand, even when they were in her own language, but especially when they weren’t. Even for a man who had been at this for a hundred years, it seemed a boggling amount of reading.

She wrenched her attention back to the task at hand. Get in, locate the journal, lock up, and leave. She spotted the soft leather books on the desk, each tied shut with hempen cord. Those must be the journals he spoke of.

You will know it by the first page… there was naught for it but to open them. She lifted the top journal from the stack and carefully opened it up, as if part of her feared it might dissolve into ash at her touch. The first page seemed to be filled with mathematical formulae unlike any she knew. Not what she was looking for.

Trying the next book, she perked up at the sketch—ah, but no, this was a floor plan of the tower itself. She recognized some of the rooms, and saw many more she had been prevented from exploring. She put it back and chose another.

This one… notes, by the looks of it. But it was in a language she could not read. Maybe this was the Exarch’s mother tongue? She tried again.

This one also was just words, but she could not help but note she could read it. He must have penned this after he had learned the local language. The handwriting was a bit rough compared to what she was used to seeing from him—this must have been quite early on. Perhaps this journal was to practice the script of Norvrandt.

She did not want to spy on him. Truly, she didn’t. She valued his privacy. But it could not be helped that as she moved to close the cover, her eyes alighted on the sentence:

“Wymekida was a dazzling sight as she stood at the treeline of the forest, her amethyst hair blowing in the wind, the sun glinting off of the arrows in her quiver.”

Wait… was this… was this fiction?

Though completely against her intentions, Lyna found herself gawping at the words on the page, reading more as if an unseen hand was compelling her onwards against her will. The tale told of a tall warrior woman who was on a mission in a forest to locate some… sand?

“A… Roe-ga-dyn?” Lyna intoned, sounding the word out aloud, the term wholly unfamiliar to her. But the colors, the build, and the other descriptions—although overwrought and a bit cliche—were unmistakable. “Named ‘Wymekida’? Really?”

She could no longer help it. She grinned ear to ear and gasped. She had to read more.

The woman was met by a mysterious stranger, a clever bard who walked among the trees and called to her unseen. She was captivated by his voice and marveled at him as he led her on a merry chase to her prize—which was more sand, apparently. For some reason.

“At last, the bard, so pleased with this woman, whom he could immediately see was a hero worthy of the name, deemed it time to reveal himself. He dropped from a ledge of great height where he had concealed himself, taking her completely by surprise.

“Wymekida steadied herself as her heart raced to at last behold her heretofore invisible companion, who had so intrigued her through words alone. Yet here he was in the flesh. His biceps curled with an easy strength, and his hair, red like blood, or perhaps like a rose, blew in the afternoon breeze. She was drawn into his unique eyes, one red, and one blue, and she felt she must be looking at a ruby and a sapphire. He bowed towards her with a flourish, his tail gracefully arching with him.

“‘Did I not say we would meet again soon?’ he asked, flashing her a winsome smile. She was a strong warrior, the strongest of them all, but she felt herself go weak in the knees.”

Lyna had to put the book aside so as not to spill tears of laughter on it. She required several full minutes to regain her composure enough to see.

No, this was disrespectful. She could not continue prying. Temptation did convince her to at least flip ahead to see how far this story went, and it was pages long. She forced herself to slam the journal shut lest her willpower give in once more. She felt guilty. But at the same time, she was SO glad she had seen it.

Oh, Exarch, she thought to herself in profound amusement. Or should I say “Y’raha”? What manner of man were you before you donned your cowl?

In hindsight, she did indeed understand his reasons for asking her, and not the Warrior of Darkness, for this favor.

……….

Hours later, the Warrior of Light reemerged from the Crystal Tower on the Source, leather-bound journal in hand, and made her way up the winding path to Revenant's Toll. She found G’raha Tia and Krile in The Seventh Heaven, where she assumed they might be posted.

“You’ve returned already!” G’raha exclaimed, waving.

“Indeed, and I have a delivery for you.”

He received the book gratefully. “Ah, excellent, she found it!” He unwound the cord and flipped open to the first page. “Yes, this is the one I was hoping for. How fares Lyna these days?”

Keimwyda pulled up a seat to the table. “She seemed quite well. She asked me to remind you that you are in her thoughts.”

“As she is in mine,” he smiled softly. “Thank you for taking her the letter, and for bringing back the journal. I know routine deliveries are far beneath your skills, but I appreciate it all the same.”

She waved him off. “Now, now, none of that. It is no trouble at all, and I am always glad to help. Oh! But I nearly forgot a message she also asked me to tell you.”

He looked at her inquisitively as she recalled the words, thinking carefully to ensure she got them right. It was a strange message and so she did not want to paraphrase. “She asked me to tell you she also found your creative writing, I think she called it? She said that she enjoyed it, and that you would know what she meant.”

G’raha looked positively ashen.

“Is everything all right?” Krile asked in concern.

“Yes!” he said quickly, his voice breaking just a little. “‘Tis just… well, I was a much younger man. Well, physically not much younger, and actually a bit older come to think of it, but—oh gods, to remember the time—I am so sorry.”

Keimwyda stared at him blankly in confusion. His ears drooped.

“You… you do not know what I am referring to, do you?”

She shook her head no. “All I know is what Lyna told me, and I tried to pass on her message word for word. Is there more I ought to know?”

G’raha buried his head in his hands, the color in his face swinging from a ghostly white to a vibrant red. “No. No there is not. Thank you for your help.”

Somewhere on another world, the captain of the Crystarium Guard was laughing to herself yet again.

#FFxivWrite2022 #FFxivWrite #ffxiv #g'raha tia #fanfic within a fanfic #the poor boy deserves better than how I have written him #BUT TELL ME CT-RAID-ERA G'RAHA WOULDN'T DO THIS

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runaway90s · 4 months

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"Research shows that college dropout rates for autistic individuals are higher than those of their neurotypical peers. According to a study conducted by the National Autism Indicators Report, only 34% of autistic college students complete their degree within six years, compared to 60% of their neurotypical peers."

When I was 18, I got accepted into ALL of my top college picks - University of Minnesota - Twin Cities, UW - Eau Claire, UW - Madison and UW - La Crosse. Of course, since it was my dream, I went to U of M - Twin Cities. I went for 6 months and literally had the time of my life. I studied Creative Writing and English Literature. I still honestly would recommend that campus to ANYONE. It is truly incredible. But, after 1 semester, I went back home for Christmas break and felt so homesick and overwhelmed. I also deeply missed my boyfriend at the time who lived in Horicon, WI.

I went back up for the second semester and tried to get back into the swing of things. I sincerely and dearly loved my roommates and the friends I had made there. But, when I went into class, I felt so distracted and "tuned out" you could say. I felt like I was wasting my time. I also had the sinking feeling that I wasn't going to be able to pay for the rest of the semester, even though I was working and had scholarships. I ran out of the classroom and called my mom and told her I wanted to drop out. She asked me if I was sure. I said yes.

Looking back at this moment in my life, I can't tell if I made a mistake or not. Moving back to my hometown and back in with my mom and starting to wait tables again - I mean, that's not really ascension is it? But at the same time, I felt my heart was pulling me somewhere. I moved to Madison in 2014 and enrolled in Madison College where I found a great fit for me. I became involved in the Student Newspaper and studied Journalism and Psychology. I was enjoying myself a lot, but I wanted to go deeper in focusing on JUST creative writing. I transferred to UW - Milwaukee because of their creative arts program but because I lived in Madison at the time, the commute was too much for me. I studied poetry there and once again, I had a great time, but then I dropped out after 2 months.

As you read this you might think, WOW. Get your shit together girl, right? Maybe. Or maybe not. Because guess what happened after I dropped out of UW - Milwaukee? I joined a Fiction Writer's Workshop in Madison led by two well-known Authors. I started writing books and short stories. And that felt even more amazing.

#college #autism #autism support #college degree

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confessions-of-a-fortune-hunter · 2 years

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New, Somber Beginnings

6/1/2022

My girlfriend broke up with me on Friday, and I didn't try to change her mind.

We'd been together for some time, almost a year and a half. Though, I thought it would last a lot longer. We had said forever a few times. Not in any sort of promise, or anything along those lines, but there were moments we both admitted the thought of losing each other would be too much to bear.

When we met, I thought she might have been my soulmate. We were so alike, we were literally completing each other's sentences during our first conversation. I think it was in that moment, way back in December of 2020, that a part of me decided this was the girl I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with. When I woke up in bed with her a few weeks later for the very first time and I looked at her, she was smiling from ear to ear, and I thought to myself "I might be in bed with my future wife."

Our relationship was great, and it kept being great. Even up until the moment we broke up, everyone told us how perfect our relationship was. And in a lot of ways, it felt like that. Our communication was spot on, we loved each other dearly, we always had each other in mind in everything we did, and I like to think the two of us standing together was easy on the eyes...

But despite all that, in the end there, I started to feel so claustrophobic... and I think she must have too. She ended things with me in my room on Friday morning, May 27th of 2022. I was so afraid it was coming, I could sense she was distant all week leading up to it. When she delivered the news through heart wrenching tears, I felt my world shatter (my apologies for the cliche writing, but I've never quite had the luxury of such a trope coming true before).

But over the past few days, now that she's gone, I've almost come to realize that maybe... I too wanted this all along, but never realized it.

I'm terrified, I'm heartbroken, but I'm also so excited. For the first time in over a year, I can 100% be myself again, with no one else to impress. I can do whatever I want, I can go wherever I want, I can be whoever I want.

Let me bring it back a bit, lay down some context.

You can call me Flint Jones. That's not my real name, but it sounds badass and it allows me to remain anonymous, so I'm going with it.

I'm 21, he/him. I don't usually use Tumblr, it's not exactly my choice of social media, but I like the format in that it allows me to post a journal like this, both publicly and anonymously. So maybe I could get used to it.

I'm starting new beginnings in my life. New, somber beginnings. I don't know what exactly lies in store for me, I know it's gonna be a tough rest of my life without... let's call her Ellie (I call her that because she has an uncanny resemblance to adult Ellie from the Last of Us, it's one of the things that caught my attention so early on). But a life without her seems to be the direction I'm going in, so I have to try my best to move on and make the most of it.

I know that I don't want a relationship right now. Hell, it seems like I probably didn't even want a relationship while I was still with Ellie. Maybe I'm meant to be a wanderer, at least for now. I've always been an adventurer at heart, everyone who knows me is well aware of this. Maybe this is all a sort of call for adventure, the beckoning of a new escapade.

I have this idea... of building a sort of collection, a collection of little treasures, oddities, and knick-knacks. Things I find while traveling, pieces of the places I visit. I always thought it would be fun to make a store out of that, maybe sell them on Etsy or Ebay.

My term ends in about a week and a half, and then I'm on summer vacation. Maybe I can use my plethora of free time to give this all a shot, after all I'm in desperate need of a new hobby at the moment.

I always wanted to be a treasure hunter, seeking my fortune in this wild world.

A fortune hunter.

#journal #breakup #heartbreak #adventure #new beginnings #treasure #treasure hunt

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leahblackk · 3 years

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Twin Flames pt.2

Summary: After the events that left Spencer and Y/n with a broken heart, Dr. Spencer Reid is feeling agony wanting to make things better to get back his best friend but things are never easy for those who love. Does things will ever get better?

Type: Angst my people I’m sorry I live and breath angst.

Couple: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Warnings: Crying and and mentions of pain. And long as fuck.

First part here.

Hello friends, it’s me again! The one who loves to write angst yes yes, that’s me. I’m so glad people liked my last post with twin flames and I’m so so happy, thanks for everyone who supported, liked or reblogged. I received many messages threatening me if I didn’t do a second part and because i already had planned to do so, here it is.

Mayor thanks to @samuel-de-champagne-problems who made a playlist and if you want to listen to it while you read this It’d be great and also please listen to her other playlists because she has an exquisite taste; Here is the link.

Tagging; @measure-in-pain and @everythingbutnormal

I want to say that I love putting references on my writing and here is a BIG ONE and i hope you can guess.

But mostly, did you guessed who reader was talking about?

Pain is something human beings want to be far away from, as far away as they can. The way their hearts is squeezed and the sweet air is taken from their lungs making it difficult to breathe, the tears streaming down your cheeks as fountains wanting to have some relief, thinking that if you let the tears out, it might ease things, but it only makes it worse when you can't breathe because of the desperation your heart is feeling. Nothing is too small or insignificant to feel pain from, it can be the death of a fictional character in your favourite book, or it can be a broken heart from the person you trusted the most, your best friend and secret lover, the one you expected to be your twin flame.

Or maybe your favourite girl in the world, that one you loved so dearly and was always there for you, your best friend and partner in crime whom you could watch, what other people considered, boring films with, the one who always hugged you when the pain of the world was too much, and you were just a boy who wanted to reach that desired happiness, but it didn't come, and certainly wouldn't come now.

Spencer knows perfectly that every time he felt like the world was too much when he didn't know where else to go when he was scared of his own mind, he always went to the apartment 13 in DC, the building that is closed to a library where they could go and talk about their interests, or he would just stay in the frame of the door. At the same time, his best friend holds him close to her on the floor, feeling her addictive essence, the one Spencer would recognize everywhere, but he didn't have anywhere to go now that he broke his best friend's heart… He broke… He broke her heart.

How was he supposed to forgive himself? The pain he caused her?

No, he couldn't. He couldn't forgive that. Of course, he wouldn't forgive if someone else dared even to make her upset, but yet he had hurt her so chronically.

Knowing her all too well, he knows that she is probably crying while the soft, melancholic, and sad music plays in the background while she curses him for being such a jerk. He knew he had been an idiot, and he can't forgive himself because she told him what they have done to her, and yet he just did that.

Spencer thinks about how her tears might ricochet while she tries to calm herself down but not having enough strength and success. He can't get rid of that image and breaks his heart into millions of pieces, and he knows he deserves the guilt poisoning his blood. He knows he deserves it, but he wonders who else she was talking about.

She mentions a girl as well in her journal. Spencer memorized all the words in his head, this time reading slower than he is used to, analyzing and maybe taking it as a punishment.

And he wants to know who she is. He doesn't have a clue. Yes, he is a genius and profiler who analyzes things and catches serial killers, but the worst serial killer he has ever faced is the pain his body is feeling, the tears streaming down his face, the loneliness he is feeling now going through his body and cursing him, every inch and every place. And, of course, his dangerous mind has done an incredible job to remind him what he had done.

He tries to breathe in the unmistakable air in front of him, but he can't make his lungs take. It's something so aching and so unfair, something life gave you. You can feel the obvious air caressing your face, but you can't breathe it in even if you try to. It is the worst punishment for those with pain inside their bones, the knives digging profoundly in your soul, waiting for it to bleed out—the third-degree burning of your skin.

He knew at that moment that it didn't matter the amount of freedom he could have because it wouldn't get him clean from his crimes. He feels like a prisoner of his own mind. After all, she was all over him, impregnated like the sweet essence in her body and hair that one Spencer loved and missed so much, that one that brings him comfort in the storm and the dark. He has always been scared of the dark, but it is scarier to know he lost her.

Questions and questions passed and wander around his mind. He wants to breathe, he wants to be free, but freedom is not accessible when you break your favourite person's heart.

…

Y/n needed fresh air, even if her heart was burning with every step she gave, the pure fire that spread in every inch. She needed to get out of that house as it was impregnated with every memory she shared with the boy with hazel eyes she loved so much. Even if he broke her heart, she still loved him, and she hates herself for it, she hates it, and she wished before to hate the woman whom he loved, but now she wishes to hate him more because it can't be. He just can't be the sweetest man she has ever known and still, being capable of hurting her, of leaving her without air, to leave her with the fire inside of her, with the broken heart in a million pieces passing around the cold city.

She wants to hate him, but her heart can't. Why is her heart so stupid? Why is her heart still loving someone her brain wants to hate?

Y/n shakes her head, trying to shake simultaneously the thoughts that kept her mind as a prisoner while she walked through the city. It was a cold afternoon. The sky was medium-dark. It still had the light as the crepuscule kept its performance above her head, but on the other side, the dark wanted to rule the whole sky, and she chuckled sarcastically at the ironic situation.

Her head turned left, the window of an old shop caught her attention. Her eyes wandered around until she saw an old brown journal. Her heart stopped.

It was a very similar journal to the one she gave to Spencer for his birthday. Spencer loved old things, so did she. So she knew that brown journal with an aged appearance would be a very dear gift to him.

The cold wind blows her hair away, getting her out of her painful memories, but her heart was about to be squeezed even more.

She heard a very familiar voice; Spencer’s. That voice that bring her comfort in the storm before now it caused the storm.

She turned and looked around to see if he was really there or her mind wanted to play painful tricks on her. It wouldn't be the first time. Then she saw him. His tall figure wrapped in a black coat with messy brown curly hair, pale skin but rosy cheeks, dark circles keep prominent, and brown-hazel eyes.

Those eyes she missed being on her were now on someone else. And, again, it wasn't on her. Y/n's eyes full of regret and pain take their gaze off of him to see his partner on that day. But, again, it was her, and it always has been her, and it always will be her because she is the one who has been keeping that piece of heart Y/n dreamt about, and because his eyes were on her, and because she was with her instead of Y/n, even if she knew that if he went to her apartment, she wouldn't let him in, but he didn't even try. He didn't take the fake regret and guilt he claimed so much and knocked on her door to ask for forgiveness. He didn't take a minute of his precious time with her. Instead, he was with her. Maybe laughing about all the things Y/n wrote in her journal as a schoolgirl in love.

And Y/n though her heart couldn't break anymore, but the universe laughed in her face and proved her wrong as the sky was also sad, it started raining. The strong drops dropped on her face, feeling like fresh air again. She looked up at the sky and closed her eyes while people ran from the rain, not wanting to get wet, but she stayed. She was good at staying even when everyone wanted to go.

It wasn't a bad thing that after the awful day she went through, it started raining. Instead, it was refreshing. Hope raised in her heart to let her know she had to move on. She can't stay in a place where she has been hurt, even if her heart wanted to stay, to wait for something… But no, she won't wait.

"Y/n," She heard her name being called by the voice that hurt her the most. She opened her eyes and looked at him, there in front of her. His messy hair now was wet, extremely wet. He was trembling as the cold wind blew and hit his face.

Y/n frowned and turned around. Who thinks he is talking to her?

She turned around so fast that she felt the air give her a strong slap of reality, and she started walking, but she heard it again, "Y/n… please, please," he begged. She looked over her shoulder and shook her head, and kept walking, leaving the young doctor in the middle of the rain.

Spencer looked at her go, and then the illumination of the shop at his right asked him to look at the window, and he obliged. He looked at the journal his dear best friend was looking at before, and a smile broke into his pale lips while tears mixed with the drops of the rain.

He remembered the time when she bought his current journal for him. He closed his eyes, getting lost in the memory.

His last journal, one his mom had given him, got destroyed after a case where it got wet, and he tried to fix it, but the ink was all over the pages, and he lost hope. JJ told him to get a new one, but he didn't want to. He wanted that specific one, which holds memories and thoughts, sometimes little reviews of his favourite books and movies, and a list of things he wanted to do.

His birthday was coming, but he still felt bad because of his journal, and Y/n being the kind soul she is, looked for an identical one, and she found it.

He remembers that after coming from a little party at Rossi's to celebrate his special day, he went to her apartment as she told him she got a surprise for him, and he waited on her soft and warm couch, and she told him to close his eyes, and he did. Then, he felt the soft book in his hands, and he opened his eyes with surprise to find the exact replica of his book, and then with a smile on his face, he looked up to her, who was already looking at him with a small smile.

"I thought they were limited edition," he said.

"Yes, but I have contacts. I know that many looked like the one you lost, but this one is almost the same. I also know that you loved that other journal but…" he didn't let her finish as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Thank you," he murmured in her ear, and she felt goosebumps take place in her skin.

"You're welcome."

He let her go and asked her for a pen, she frowned but still passed him her Pen, and he opened the second page (leaving the first one to put his name) and started writing, she tried to look at the page, but he brought the journal to his chest. "I want to see," she said with a little chuckle.

"Maybe one day you get to see."

…

Monday came fast, very fast. Quicker than Spencer expected, he didn't want to go to work without enough energy, but duties called.

On his matutine walk to the metro, then to the coffee shop, he stopped at a flower shop asking the florist for flowers that said, "I'm sorry for being a jerk, forgive me." But she didn't have those, so he chose Y/n's favourite ones and walked all the way to the office, hoping to see her and begged for her forgiveness. He would get on his knees if he needed to.

But soon as the elevator door opened, he knew she wasn't there. The atmosphere wasn't the same as when she was there. It was cold and lonely. The same way he has been feeling the past days. And he walked all the way to his desk to see an empty desk where his best friend was supposed to be. He frowned.

She never skipped work, even when she was dying of flu. He remembered one time when he had to get her back home and stayed with her for the rest of the weekend so she wouldn't go to work and get enough rest.

He left the flowers on his desk and walked to the stairs all the way to Hotch's office, knocking on the wide-open door to announce his presence. Hotch looks up from files of work to him. "Where is Y/n?" he asked without wanting to make a small conversation first. He hated small conversations.

Hotch gave him a confused look because of his behaviour but decided not to ask, "She asked for two weeks to be away. She mentioned something about a family emergency," he quietly spoke and put the files he had on his hands on the desk. Spencer's heart stopped. What if something happened? What if she wasn't okay? What if- "I thought you already knew. You two talk about everything," and that was the final drop. His heart ached at the memory of her telling him everything before when he still got the chance to say she was his best friend. He used to say it with pride. Now he felt ashamed because he let someone as golden as her go.

His heart begged him to have a little hope, but he felt lost and scared.

"Hotch, can I ask for a free day? I-I want to know if she is okay."

Hotch nodded, "Yes, I was also worried about her anyway." Spencer nodded, about to get out of the office and run to her apartment. "And Spencer," he looked at Hotch again. "Please make sure she is okay, don't leave her alone."

"I will try," and with that, he stormed out.

If he only knew…

He walked downstairs and made his way to the bullpen, and he looked at Morgan, who was on Spencer's desk looking at the flowers. Derek looked at him and smiled, ready to tease Spencer about it, "Pretty boy, I see you're gonna get so chicks," he laughed and looked at Garcia, who walked where they were.

"I'm not in the right humour for jokes, Morgan." He took the flowers out of his desk. It burns to know they didn't had the chance to do the purpose he wanted to.

"What's wrong?" Garcia asked, concerned.

"Well, maybe if Morgan didn't read Y/n's journal, we wouldn't be in this position," Spencer snapped, putting his satchel on his shoulders.

"What's wrong with pretty girl?" Morgan asked, now concerned as well. He loved Y/n like a little sister and, knowing that she might not be too well, hurt him.

"Y/n knows you read her journal, or well she thinks I did. I took the blame for you so she wouldn't be mad at you too, and now she won't talk to me, and if you excuse me, I have to leave. You're welcome," he started walking to the elevator again as he heard Morgan calling for him having memories of the moment when he left to confront her or how Spencer remembers; One of the worst days of his life.

Morgan and Garcia shared a quick gaze without knowing what to do.

…

Spencer made his way to the stairs, going up and up. He could take the elevator of the building, but he found the stairs as a perfect opportunity to know what to say and think and get the words right in his head because he wasn't good with words, but he knows he can't live without his best friend so for him is better to try to formulate the words than the risk to lose her. And he hopes it is not too late.

His feet move softly and almost like he was afraid to confront her, but what he really feared is to know that she didn't want him in her life anymore. That was the real fear he felt. But then, he found himself in front of the wooden door, his heart racing with every second that passed, and he knocked three times like he always did.

He could see the lights on. He knew she was there. And a minute passed, two minutes, three minutes, and she didn't answer. And his fear increased, this time fearing she wasn't alright.

And he knocked three times again.

And again.

But the door never opened.

"Y/n please," he begged with tears in his eyes burning and hurting. "I-I know you don't want to talk to me, and believe me. I understand. I don't even want to talk to myself. I just want to know if you are alright. I bought you flowers, your favourite ones, and I thought I could give them to you at work, but then you weren't there, and I got worried, and I asked Hotch, and he said you wouldn't go to work for two weeks, and I'm scared that you might not be okay for another reason beside of me being an idiot, so please, please Y/n I'm begging you, and if you were in front of me right now I would be on my knees, please let me know if you are there. Y-You don't have to open the door if you don't want to, I obviously want you to do so, but I won't put pressure on you, just please knock the door three times if you are there, please," he stopped talking as the air got cut from his lungs and he gasped feeling the pain moving throughout his body.

Y/n heard him, with tears in her eyes as well. She didn't want to open the door because she didn't want to say things that might hurt him or maybe because she wasn't ready to face those hazel eyes. She decided that the first time she's gonna see Spencer after this is after she gets over him. Even if that's gonna take time, she knows it's gonna take time, but it is a decision that's already made.

But she knows Spencer, and she knows he won't leave until he knows she's alright, so with careful steps and with her heart beating so fast, sweaty hands, she gets close to the door and knocks on the door three times slowly as her hand trembles.

Spencer is thanking the heavens on the other side of the door because she is okay, relatively.

And then, he left the flowers on her door and turned around to go back home, at least knowing she was okay.

Feeling some relief in his heart, even if things were tense, she was okay. He looked at the door again. He was never a believer in god, always envying those who believed in this magical person who would do anything, so he asked for her to come back to him because he doesn't know if he can live without her.

…

Y/ns apartment was a mess.

Just like her mind, that wasn't because she wanted to, but sometimes it was not easy to even get out from the sofa. But she wasn't going to let all her sadness and pain take place in her apartment, where she used to feel comfort and that vanilla essence all over the place in the air. Now smelled like him.

Every corner had memories of the man she loved and wanted so badly to get out of her head. Like her kitchen when he almost burned her apartment trying to recreate a recipe he wanted to do for so long.

And then her living room, where she is now on the floor. They always used to watch Doctor Who and… What is she doing? Why is she trying to remember those painful memories when she should be forgetting about him, hating him more than anything and…

A knock on the door made her stop, again.

She stands up from the floor and gives careful steps to the door, her heart wanting to get out of her chest and never come back as he didn't want to be in such a hurtful place.

She gets close to the door, fearing him being on the other side, but now she remembered it was only one knock she heard while Spencer always gives three, so her heart is less heavier. She pressed her cheek on the cold wooden door as she looked at who was on the other side, looking at blonde wavy hair and brown eyes behind glasses and her colorful clothes. It's Penelope.

Y/n opens the door to look at Penelope with cookies in one hand and her favourite flowers in the other one. Pen looks her up and down, stopping on her red puffy eyes, and her heart breaks as tears are already forming on her eyes, she puts the things on the floor and opens her arms, ready to receive her broken friend, and Y/n needing that hug more than anything collapses on them. Both of them crying quietly in the lonely hallway.

"H-h-he," Y/n tries to say, not being able to breathe properly.

"I know pumpkin, I know," the blonde woman comforts.

Pen knows.

Of course, she knows. Even before Spencer did, even before Y/n even knew what she felt for him. Pen knew.

Y/n hoped for Spencer not to notice the way she looked at him, and he didn't, but that doesn't mean anyone else didn't.

And when Y/n was able to identify and accept her feelings towards the doctor, the first and only person who heard it was Pen.

That's why she stayed quiet when everyone found out about her feelings. And when Morgan and Prentiss asked her whom Y/n was talking about, she said she didn't know, even if she did.

After what it felt like an eternity, Y/n and Pen got up from the floor and entered the house. Penelope, knowing her apartment already, went to the kitchen to make her tea so she could relax a little, and the cookies she specially made for her, making it precisely in the way Y/n liked.

And then she took everything where she was, on the floor in her living room, again as she looked through the pages of her journal, wanting to throw it away because she felt the deception and the unknown hands all over its pages, losing its magic. Now being a reminder of what's been broken.

After putting everything on the coffee table behind Y/n, Pen walked where the flowers were and put them in front of Y/n. She looked up and gave her a small smile, unsuccessful as she felt the pain taking it out of her face with force. She didn't even have the energy to smile because she didn't only lost her secret lover, but she lost his best friend. Y/n remembers when she told Spencer she always ended up losing best friends, and he promised he wouldn't leave her.

And he broke her promise as well as he broke her heart.

"You didn't have to," Y/n said with a broken voice that Pen had to close her eyes feeling her pain.

"I wasn't the one who bought it. It was on your door, I think doctor Reid did," Pen spoke, being afraid of her reaction, but Y/n was tired of reacting. She only took the floors and put them on the other side on her left, a little far from her, feeling like it burns her. "You want to talk about it, love?" Pen asked, sitting in front of her and taking the journal out of her sight.

"I already talked about it with myself. It didn't end well," Pen chuckled, and then Y/n looked at her and chuckled as well. Both women stared at each other as they started to laugh louder and louder, and then both stopped.

The silence ruled the place for a few seconds before Y/n broke again, the sobs leaving her lips. "It hurts so much, Pen," she quietly spoke. "I-I never-I have never- I never thought it could hurt this much. I'm always preparing myself for people to leave me, but I never got prepared for this," she brought a hand to put it on her mouth as the sobs left her lips. Penelope took her hand away.

"Let it out, don't retain yourself."

…

The sun softly slipped through her blinds while it made its way to her face, asking her to wake up. She, then feeling her body too heavy even to get up, turned around and closed her eyes, ignoring the sun who wanted so desperately to wake her up, but he wasn't the only one as the door softly knocked.

She groans as she forces her body to get up from the bed and walk through the hallway. She looks at how things are less messier and in their place.

After crying for hours with Pen, they both got up and decided to get Y/n's life together, cleaning and listening to music while they cursed someone's name. To be honest, she felt much better, she felt hope, she felt her heart beating for something much more than just pain, and she knows she will not be in this state forever. She is gonna act like she acted when her best friends left her. It wasn't the first time that happened, and she wonders if it would be the last time, when she finally decides to learn the lesson.

She shakes her head, not wanting those early thoughts poisoning her mind.

And then, she's already in front of the door. As she always does, she looks at the peephole and looks at Morgan standing right there, waiting for her to open the door. She frowns.

Why did her OTP decided to visit her two days in a row? She gets the thought to get away from her and opens the door to greet Morgan, not wanting anyone's pity anymore, looking like hell, she smiles at him. "Hi Morgan, what are you doing here?" she asks.

"You're joking, right?" he says with a frown.

She frowned again and shook her head, "No, why?"

"Rossi is gonna kill you," she feels her confusion increase with every second. "Engagement party? Rossi? Today? Something resonates?" Morgan looks at her face be from confused to surprised.

"I-I totally forgot," she said, looking at the floor with embarrassment filling up in her body.

No shit Sherlock.

After everything that has happened in the last couple of days, she forgot about Rossi's engagement party and his threat to those who even thought about missing it. But she also knows someone will be there, and she is definitely sure she doesn't want to be near him, not right now. Well, she is not sure if she ever will want to be near him ever again as he hurt her so much.

Y/n feels the guilty filling her heart as the thought of her being immature gets to her head. She doesn't want to be childish, but she can't help it. Not after years of knowing him, a few ones of loving him in the shadows.

She has never judged people who couldn't stand looking at people who had hurt them. She has never judged anyone but herself. Not even Spencer has been cruel with her more than she has already been with herself. Always blaming herself when someone left her… She has been the most damaging person to herself than anyone who has been in her life and then left.

She feels ashamed as her stomach moves around and makes her dizzy. She feels sick because of the situation.

She looked up at him after, what for her was a minute, but for him seconds of thoughts and thoughts, she came up with an excuse, ignoring the screams in her head calling her weak. "I, uh, I really can't go, I have some family problems going on right now, and I just need to be there," she mentions using the excuse she used with her boss.

He looked at her. She was a great liar, and being a profiler allowed her to be even more, always making people believe every lie she gave. He almost believed her, almost.

She didn't count on the fact she was talking with Derek Morgan, after Spencer, her best friend. Someone who always looks after her like a little sister, feeling the need to protect her from the world who always has been cruel with people like her. He feels disappointed in himself because he couldn't protect her from this.

He always knew the feelings she so dearly held in her heart for Doctor Reid. The way she looked at him like he was the most precious thing on her heart was oblivious for Reid but for the rest of the team. Especially not him.

He didn't even need to hear it from her, or from anyone else who might know or have their theories. The look in her eyes, like heart-shaped with golden sparkles all over, the way she always listens to his little rambles and defending him when someone even dared to give him a nasty look.

Reid didn't stay behind either. Despite the fact of him being a jerk without even knowing what he was doing, he always protected her, for everyone but him. He couldn't stand, and he wouldn't stand those who dared to give her a bad look or wanting to have something more than she wanted with them, or always protecting her in the field, wanting him to get hurt but not her. Yet, he has been the trigger of her massive pain.

He suspected that Spencer shared the feelings for her, but apparently, he was wrong.

He sighed, "Baby angel, I know that's a lie. I saw Pen earlier, she had puffy eyes, and you have them too. Put the pieces together, and you get the answer," he said, trying to get her to look at him. "Hey, if you don't want to go, at least let me talk to you for a sec."

She nodded, letting him in, walking all the way to her couch. He sat waiting for her to do the same, and she did, not looking at him again. "Hey," he said, lifting her chin up by putting a finger in there, "I know what happened with pretty Ricky. He brought those pretty flowers you have over there to work," he said, pointing to the corner to the flowers where Y/n left them, still not taking them. She turned around and looked where he points, but then look back at him, the memory of him hurting her soul, "And he was all nervous because he didn't saw you there, we all are worried about you but him the most, and then he told me that he took the blame for me, and I couldn't stand that."

She looked at him, confused. What was he talking about?

"You see, the day you left the journal there at work, I was the one who told him to read it, but he didn't want to because he said he didn't want to step on your privacy, but I didn't listen to him, and I read it. I know it was wrong, but I was worried about you. You were acting all weird that week, and I know you are the type of person who doesn't talk about their feelings, and I wanted to help you because, baby angel, I hate seeing you all sad. It hurts my heart. You are like my little sister, and as a brother, I can be a little bit of a dumb sometimes, and I caused all of this. You being mad with Reid, and he took the blame for me so you wouldn't be mad at me, but I can't stand that. You are in every right to be mad about it."

She looked at him. She wondered if she was mad, but she didn't feel anything. Her heart didn't feel anything. Maybe because all the feelings she had, like prisoners, were out, and she felt numb, something she wasn't used to. She was used to keeping her feelings deep down, and now she let them out. She didn't know how to act.

Besides what Morgan did, he had good intentions.

But then, if she was mad at Reid by doing the same, and knowing he didn't do it… should she still be mad at him? Maybe the real reason she was mad with Reid was because he didn't love her, not because he read her journal.

Was she willing to forgive him?

No, because he demands to know how the man was, know why she didn't tell him, and use the fact she didn't share with people her feelings and thoughts against her. He was sarcastic and hurtful to her, even if he didn’t read it he sat and listen what the secrets said.

Anger rises in her heart.

But no, it wasn't going to ruin her. Not anymore.

"I-I'm not mad at you," she finally said.

Morgan felt his heart lightly as he was carrying guilt there, and guilt can be heavier than everything in the world. He couldn't stand the bare thought of her being mad at him.

"Are you gonna come with me and be at Rossi's?" he asked, hoping the answer would be a yes.

She shook her head, "Even though I shouldn't be mad at Reid for what he did, I don't want to look at him. I know it is childish, and I should do better, but my heart can't stand looking at him right now. It never really hurt the fact that he read my journal, but the reality of knowing he never loved me and he would never do. And, he was my best friend, you know? Everything is ruined. I guess my fear of not wanting to confess my feelings because I didn't want to ruin our friendship finally happened and even worse than just confessing my sins. But still, you weren’t here when he was trying to blame me for something he did," she chuckled, fearing the tears would come down once more, but they didn't.

Her body was tired of crying. She was sure there were no more tears to drop as they were already out.

Morgan's heart ached to look at her in that state and the fact she said "was my best friend," even if she wasn't talking about him.

"Do you realize you still have the chance to still be her best friend?" Morgan asked.

"And then what? Receive pity from him for not reciprocating my feelings and watching him loving another person? I have never been a selfish person, but to be honest, I prefer to be that today."

She was right. And Morgan knew it. She was damn right.

"Be a selfish person then. I support you but what I don't support is the fact that you are not gonna go to one of your friend's engagement party because this dumb boy who doesn't know better is gonna be there. You are a queen. I know my queen would never stay behind for a boy."

But he wasn't just a boy. He was Spencer Reid, the man Y/n has been in love with.

"I don't think it is a good idea," she said, shaking her head.

"Let me tell you something. If you go, and then you don't stand to be in the same place as him any longer, then I will bring you home myself, you agree?"

She thinks.

He was right. It was Rossi. He doesn't forgive easily. Besides, it was just one night. Spencer would not interfere.

She groans then, to appear annoyed, "Alright, you won. But don't drink because you are driving me home."

"You are gonna be way more wasted than me, believe me." They both laugh before Y/n goes to get ready.

…

Y/n looked at herself in the mirror attached to the wall white wall of her room while she passed her hands through her hair and the pastel-colored dress she was wearing with soft fabric to make her feel comfort. Not too tight because that night, she needed to breathe, and she tried to calm the screams and the voices inside her head, and, of course, her hands that were shaking like jelly. Then, her gaze raised to her face examining her features and what with makeup she tried to cover. Her rosy nose and cheeks, and those puffy, red full of pain eyes. Those who visited her in the past days looked into their souls and made them feel her pain. And now they remember the phrase, "eyes are windows of the soul," they didn't believe it until they witnessed it on her friend.

She sighed, already tired of the world and its weight. Of the pain and guilt, the problems and the broken hearts.

Then she turned around and took a cardigan as she looked outside to the cold ambience and walked through the obscure hallway of her apartment, all the way to Morgan, who was waiting for her in her living room. Her heels made a sound on the floor, letting Morgan know she was ready, and he turned around and stood up from her couch, and looked at her with a soft smile. Her beauty amused him but also hurt by the look on her face.

"You look fantastic," he said, trying to make her smile, and she did, but he knew it wasn't a true one.

"Thank you," her soft voice resonates in the silent house. He smiles at her and offers his arm as she passes her hands, grabbing it and walking towards the door. She was ready to leave and confront the problems she so much wanted to run from, but you cannot run forever.

…

The cold, pitiless wind knocks her as she walks with Morgan by her side, her legs trembling as jelly on a plate, and she looks for something to hold onto, this time being Morgan's arm. Her heart was beating faster than she could even be aware of, but her stomach dropped, and her sweaty hands definitely were aware of how fast her heart was going. Her hands were shaking as the fear entered her soul and ruled every inch and every corner, filling up with thoughts and thoughts.

Fear, how merciless this one was. Dispiteous as a villainor as the serial killers she chased every day, but now they were chasing her to take revenge and win those battles she once won.

Morgan looked at her to check if she was alright. Outside she only looked hurt and nervous, but inside she was terrified of the what-ifs her mind was reproducing, but mostly, she was scared of the most merciless and dispiteous villain of all; Love.

To say that love wasn't a fan of Y/n was just an understatement.

And then, they entered Rossi's mansion, as he so much liked to call, walking towards the backyard where everyone else was. Morgan, once more, looked down at her, "You're gonna be alright. I won't leave you alone," he said with a whisper.

She nodded, biting her bottom lip to stop the scream of fear leaving her body, and then she looked at how beautiful everything was. White and green were the main colours, and lights were all over the garden as everything was getting darker and darker, the sun leaving the sky to give place to the beautiful and mysterious moon to make her performance of every night, Y/ns favourite.

Then she looked at her coworkers, who laughed and talked all around while soft music played. She always loved to look at them in such good humour, but now that was a reminder of how she was supposed to be, how she always pretends to be. Their laughter rang in her ears to let her know they were happy, but she wasn't.

She felt out of place. The family that once gave her comfort now was a reminder of her pain, making her feel like an outsider. She didn't belong to them, but did she ever?

Y/n looked at the face she claimed to know but now felt like strangers who just shared memories with her. And then she looked at him. Her heart stopped and jumped as it always did. He still had that effect on her even if she wanted so badly to avoid it.

He wasn't aware of her stare as he always has been, he was smiling, but the smile didn't go up to his eyes.

He was wearing a black suit, looking elegant, maybe to hide the fact he has been suffering the past couple of days or to look good for her.

And then he lifted his gaze as he then felt a familiar look on him, and he searched until he locked eyes with hers. Her eyes and his hazel ones made a connection that made him see sparks. He has missed her for so long.

She looked beautiful. She always looked even though he could see the pain behind those pretty eyes.

And both of them stared at each other eager for the feeling of comfort the other had. Their happy place, their comfort person. But now that bond was broken, and they wonder if it will ever be what it was before because even if you get hurt and the injury heals, the scar will always be there as a reminder of what it was before, of the pain and the bleeding and s story to tell those curious people who ask.

Their gaze split from each other to look at the person they were with, those who stood by their side as a replacement of the other, but not enough compared to the other.

Spencer looked at the tall figure of his best friend and coworker, Derek Morgan holding her while she looked at his partner as well.

She always envied the woman she thought was the owner of Spencer's heart; Maxine Brenner.

The brunette woman Spencer met a few months ago, and he has been obsessed with. Taking every last drop of happiness and hope she holds in her heart. The hope Spencer might love her in the way she does. In the way, she only sees him as the love of her life and owner of her heart, even if she wasn't the owner of his.

That maybe Spencer's breath might cut and be difficult to breathe every time she entered a room and because the intense feelings he had for her made it impossible for him to love someone in the way he loves her.

But, reality hit her and made her realize he never has and will never see her as something more, just his stupid best friend who writes love letters and confessed her feelings in her journal instead of facing him.

That was she was for him, nothing more but something less.

Just someone else in his life, and not the most important person. And then she looked at him. She felt sick to look at him because every time she looked at him was a reminder of what he didn't feel for her. What she did felt and she will always feel even if she runs from him, but what he would never feel because Y/n Y/L looked at Spencer Reid as the most important person for her, she looked at him as the perfect masterpiece a museum could ever have, she looked at him as the most precious creature the universe could have… She… She looked at him like she looks at the beauty of the moon. When someone lifts their heads and looks at the beauty of the precious and mysterious moon, they look amused, not believing something so precious could ever exist.

She looked at him like people look at the universe. Amused but not understanding how something can be so perfect yet admiring it.

But Spencer Reid? Spencer Reid, in Y/n's eyes, only looks at her as a reminder of the crimes he has committed and has to fix because he couldn't live with the guilt poisoning his blood.

The realization hit her in the gut. Spencer Reid has never loved her.

She looks at Morgan, and he nods, understanding everything without talking with her, and she looks at him once more and his partner, who seem concerned because Spencer was silent and not looking at them.

And then, without anything more, she walks away from the house, feeling the wildfire in her heart expanding throughout her body, making her breath get cut and be difficult to breathe. She then hears the storm in the sky as the lightning bolts make their performance in the sky, and the rain drops with force, creating an echo all over the place. Y/n jumps in her place and stops for a moment but then keeps walking until she searches for a place to wait for Morgan to come to her and take her home, where she should have been in the first place.

She curses herself, and her eyes fall in a white gazebo. She thanks the universe for stopping being cruel to her, and she runs, feeling the cold rainfall into her skin.

When she steps on the wooden floor, she hugs herself, wanting to feel warm and trying to protect herself from the world, especially from Spencer Reid.

She thinks that her problems might stop now that she learned the lesson and accepted her destiny, knowing Spencer has never loved her as she loved him.

But her problems were about to get worse when Spencer stepped behind her in the gazebo. He had searched for her desperately, and he felt relief when she looked at her there.

"Y/n," he says with a quiet voice.

She jumps in her place as she turns around to look at him. Fuck the universe.

"For god's sake," she says under her breath, and Spencer felt goosebumps taking place in his skin, maybe because of the cold wind or because it was the first time he heard her voice in a long time.

"Y/n please, we need to talk," he pleaded.

"We don't have anything to talk about, Reid," she spoke, turning around again.

"Of course we have," he says, taking her arm and turning her around to look at her, but she takes her arm out of his touch, feeling like it burns. She looked at his hurt face, and she almost felt guilty about it. Almost.

He doesn't know what it hurts the most. Her calling him Reid or the fact his touch disgusts her.

But he doesn't blame her. He feels disgusted with himself too. How can someone be so cruel ever to hurt someone like her?

"No, we don't have anything to talk about. Please enjoy the party," she says. She bits her tongue, preventing her from mentioning her.

"The party is not that fun without you," he says, looking at the ground, feeling ashamed.

Y/n chuckled, shaking her head, "Don't be so hypocritical."

He looks up and frowns, "What are you talking about?" he asks, confused.

She bit her tongue again, with a little more force than before, but she couldn't help the words leaving her lips.

"You claimed you were feeling guilty about what you did and missing me and being worried about me, but you didn't have guilt when you were laughing with her the other day and hours after you came to my house to ask for forgiveness," she says with venom in her voice. Y/n knows she doesn't have the right to talk about that as she was his girlfriend, but he didn't have the right to be so cruel to her either.

"That's not what it is. I was with her that day because-" he starts, but Y/n shakes her head and interrupts him.

"You don't have to give me any explanation, Reid. I really don't care anymore what you do with your life. It's your problem, not mine."

He stays silent as her words remain on his head, hearing them repeatedly, and before he even knows what he's doing, he speaks again. "You don't have the right to act like that with me when you don't even had the courage enough to confess your feelings for me and say I didn't feel the same when I had loved you since the first day you stepped on the job. You don't have the right to call me a hypocrite for talking with another woman when the only woman I have ever loved is you," he looks at her face of surprise, and he knows he should stop. However, he steps closer to her and keeps talking, "You didn't have the right even to mention the way I look at Maxine because I have never looked at her the way I look at you, and when I was with her that day was to explain to her that I didn't felt the same she felt for me as my heart it has always been yours even before I even met you. You didn't dare to confess your feelings to my face, and instead, you wrote about what you thought my feelings were when you didn't even have the minimum idea of what my true feelings are."

He loves her… She is supposed to feel happy about it. He loves her, but why is anger racing in her heart as venom? Why does she want to slap him across the face and leave him there, in the middle of the rain?

Her salvation comes when she looks at Morgan, but she won't stay quiet. "You don't have the right to talk about encouragement when you didn't have it to confess your feelings as well," she remains silent as the tears run down her face, and she gasps to let the air make its path, "Fancy to know what you feel, and yes, you're right. Everything I wrote in my journal was wrong. Starting with my feelings for you. I regret the day I fell in love with you, Doctor Reid."

And with that, she walks away from him to talk where Morgan was and goes to her apartment. Without looking at Reid, and him not looking at her because her words hurt even more than he could ever think of.

When Morgan and Y/n left Spencer Reid, the guilt and the weight of her words were too much to even stay on his feet. So he collapses on his knees into the cold, wet floor of the gazebo in the middle of the rain as the tears drop off his face.

Y/n leaving him with a broken heart, again.

...

Spencer walks while the tears remain on his face, and he gasps from time to time to let the air in. The pain his heart is feeling is way more than he could ever explain. He remembers the only time he felt pain like this one, and it wasn't a good experience.

His gaze goes up at the building, her apartment. He's outside while the rain has already left, but his clothes are wet, a reminder of what happened. His heart is in pain, but he can only think about her pain.

To be honest, he deserves it because he has been quite a jerk without knowing and knowing what he was doing. He wasn't the best at describing his feelings, and he can be an idiot when he is mad, sometimes saying things he doesn't mean.

He has to ask for forgiveness again.

The decision has been made as his heart encourages him to talk with the owner of him, and Spencer happily obliged.

He walks feeling nervous with every step he gives. He moves his hands up and down as he tries unsuccessfully to stop them from trembling.

And this time, he uses the elevator as his heart can't wait anymore to tell her what he should have told her long ago.

And he walks and walks through the cold hallway, his heart jumping excitedly, and he looks at her door and stretches his hand to knock, but then he stops.

He has to knock two times because if he does three times, she will know it is him, and she won't open it. So he does. He knocks just two times feeling weird doing so.

He hears movement on the other side, and his heart stops. He takes his hands to his face, wipes the tears away, and then lifts his hands to his hair, trying to look good for her.

Y/n moves to the door wiping her tears, and thinks that Derek forgot something as he came back so quickly, or maybe he doesn't want to leave her alone. And she opens the door wide open without looking at the peephole first as she always does.

When Spencer was about to pass his hands through his clothes, the door was wide open. He looks at her, puffy eyes, messy hair, and with the same dress, he looked at her before. But still, she is the most beautiful girl in the world to him. The only one he would ever look at, and his heart ached at the thought of her thinking he would ever love someone else but her.

Y/n looks at him, and her heart stops. Even though she is mad at him, he is still the most precious thing for her, but he steps inside when she is about to close the door, making her give three steps back. "What are you doing here, Spencer?" she asks, annoyed.

He doesn't answer. The last time he did, it didn't go that well, and he learned his lesson.

He just gives her his journal.

In his walk to, well, nowhere, he went to his apartment and took the journal she gave him to read it while he walked to the dark and cold city.

She takes it confused. Y/n knows the journal well as she was the one who gave it to him. When she is about to ask, he talks first, "Read the first pages," he says.

She opens the journal feeling its hard material, and her fingers move to open it. She looks at the first page where his name is, and then she passes to the other page.

"My mind is complicated, and I have never been good with words. I read the entire dictionary once when I was bored, but all the words that are there aren't enough to explain what I'm feeling right now, what I feel since I first met you. I was too afraid to address what I feel because every time I knowledge my love for someone, they end it up leaving me, and from all the people that have left me, you would hurt the most, and I'm not expecting you to leave me, to be honest, I pray every day even if I'm not a believer of God, so I can still be there for you and you for me.

I have never met someone like you, and you're sitting in front of me right now, and you look beautiful, so perfect that it hurts and it hurts to think that you might not love me the way I do, but I wouldn't be surprised either because someone like you deserves the entire universe, all the stars, and the galaxy in one place so you can watch them every night. I would do anything for you, and if one of those things is to stay back so I can keep you, then I will because loving and the feeling of not being reciprocated is not that painful as losing you.

I suppose I speak from my heart right now. In that case, I'm so afraid of losing you, either because of work or because I was an idiot, that I hope I don’t do anything for you to stay away from me because the love I feel for you is way too intense. Sometimes that love can be hurtful, to watch you walk and just to know you're oblivious of the way my heart feels is too painful or to think you might love someone else, someone more handsome, someone funnier who can actually make funny jokes and not nerdy ones. Someone who can go out with you at every party and dance with you, someone who is truly incredible.

But sometimes, though, I feel like you and I have a connection. We have things in common. We might disagree on things (like the existence of twin flames, something you always talk to me about), but we also have things in common, and I have never met someone who could understand me so well the way you do. And today it's my birthday, and you know what you did? You bought me a replica of the journal I lost. Who couldn't someone love you? You're everything someone could ever ask for.

You're the equal of Mr. Darcy for me, so it might be Elizabeth Bennet then? Yes, you're my Elizabeth Bennet, well, only if you were mine.

Remember when we said we would never write our deepest secrets in our journals because we feared someone else could read them? I don't care if someone reads this unless it's you. If I ever show you this page or you ever find it, please don't leave me because you don't feel the same. I could never live without you.

I'm afraid of losing you."

She looks up with tears in her eyes. Her eyes meeting Spencer's hazel ones full of hot tears as well, he, then, steps closer and takes her hands, kissing them over and over again while he sobs, and she does as well.

"I didn't believe in the existence of twin flames until I met you," he sincerely said, looking deep into her eyes. "You are my twin flame."

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x y/n #spencer x y/n #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #spencer fic #spencer imagine #spencer x you #spencer x fem!reader #angst #doctor reid #reid

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littlemisspascal · 3 years

Text

Ezra’s Journal Entries #4-6

Fandom: Prospect / Pedro Pascal

Pairing: Ezra x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,133

Summary: I don’t deserve you, little love of mine. Not one damn piece of you.

Warnings: angsty fluff, night terrors, PTSD, Ezra dealing with the aftermath of the Green, language, 1st person POV (Ezra), dialogue in italics because that’s just how I chose to do it, overuse of space metaphors, no beta so all mistakes are mine

Author Note: As always, thank you readers for your support! All the love to each one of you! Hope you like these new segments 💖

Entries #1-3 #7-9

Cross-posted on AO3

Look for additional notes at the bottom.

I feel a little less torn after speaking with Cee, hearing her voice crackling across the radio regale me with details of her current studies at Cero Tol, the latest novel she’s devouring, the daytrip she made to Lao to collect shells for an art project—it reminds me there was a sliver of profound goodness to come out of my otherwise disastrous journey to the Green. She rambles and babbles and laughs at her tongue’s inability to keep up with all she has to share. Her soul has found exactly what it has always yearned for: a life of her own making.

For all that she lost on the Green, she has adapted to her new path and overcome every obstacle with the same bullheaded determination a helianthus possesses. Never losing sight of her goals just as the flower never loses sight of the sun.

I must admit I’d been reluctant to split ways with her after our perilous escape from the Green—after all, nothing bonds people together faster than the collaboration of slicing off an arm and creaming the gaping wound shut, then immediately engaging in a bloody conflict with heavily armed mercs—but she deserved better than to live a floater’s life tainted by a lack of morals and the uncertainty of not knowing if she would survive from one sunrise to the next.

She deserved to live a life amongst her own peers. To rouse that spark of creativity her father tried to extinguish. To turn gold in all the ways I cannot.

Sending her to school was worth every point and credit we managed to scrape together. Still, I remember how bittersweet it felt watching that little bird, ever so fearless in the face of sudden change, march right up the ramp of the freighter at the Pug, determined to make me and you proud by excelling at the academy. Standing amongst the sea of parents waving goodbye to their children, I wrapped my arm around your waist, rested my head atop yours, and forced myself to swallow a harsh pill of truth.

With or without me in her life, Cee is going to be just fine.

I remember how you swung our linked hands as we walked back to our ship, your sweet voice a soothing balm easing the ache of my melancholic heart. Ezra, she’s fierce and bold and strong. That little golden child is going to have her name written in the stars one day.

Kevva do I hope I live to see your vision come true.

First thing I remember noticing about you was your eyes. Remember how I caught you staring at me from across the bar? You looked at me like I was your North Star pointing you home, like I was something shiny and special. You scared the fuck out of me. It’s the worst thing I ever thought, but it’s true. I would have fled the scene if your gaze hadn’t anchored my soul.

You introduced yourself, and I knew goodbye would never be a word exchanged between us. No, we became a pair of binary stars, constantly orbiting each other round and round, hello again and see you soon. Falling in love with you was inevitable. The Currents designed you perfect for me. Designed you with meteorite in your bones and sunlight on your lips and all the constellations sparkling in your eyes. There is no grander form of paradise than to feel you beneath my hand. There is no comparison. No second place contender. Just you, your tender heart, and the galaxies you contain.

Sometimes, late at night when you’re asleep and my thoughts are too loud for my head, I stare at the ceiling and speculate about alternate verses. Verses starring another me and another you crisscrossing each other’s paths as we’re pulled across the galaxy by our heartstrings. Somewhere, there is another me who never escapes the ruthlessness of the Green and breathes my last with Inumon’s knife in my lungs. Another me who will never know the emotional and physical anguish that accompanies the loss of a limb. Another me who pulls the thrower’s trigger without hesitation, firing a shot between the wide eyes of an innocent girl. Another me who ignores the temptation of harvesting aurelac in hopes of making a reputable name for myself.

Somewhere, there is another me who ran away from another you.

And it pains me to wonder if perhaps you’re happier never knowing me.

I speculate about those two most of all.

I woke up to screaming. My mind was a tangled mess, caught between the thin barriers separating reality from dreamscape, and I was truly convinced my head would explode from the noise. Inumon wouldn’t stop screaming no matter how hard I squeezed my fingers, no matter how much of my bulk I pressed down upon her. It’s me! She wailed like an animal in a trap, sensing impending doom but unable to flee from it. It’s me, it’s me, it’s me! Please, Ezra!

A thought crossed my mind, as sudden and blinding as a shooting star streaking through the midnight sky, and I found myself incapable of ignoring it. How does she know my name? I had cloaked my identity using a dead man’s name. It wasn’t feasible for her to know the truth or for the sound of my name coming out of her mouth to set my skin aflame.

There aren’t words to describe the horror which consumed me when I looked down upon your tear-stained face.

My mama once told me everybody’s a sinner. We have wickedness embedded in our cells from womb to tomb. It buries its roots deep, resistant to our attempts to rid ourselves of its corruption, and waits for the precise moment to inflict pain upon those we love most. Those who choose to love us despite the warning signs.

In the aftermath, when my fucking fingerprints were smudged across your throat blue and purple, you held me like I was a human and not a monster or a vexation or a broken thing to toss aside. I couldn’t stop trembling, couldn’t stop my mind from conjuring a torturous loop of what ifs.

What if I hadn’t stopped myself? What if you hadn’t broken the nightmare’s spell? What if your last word had been my name?

Hush, you whispered. My tremors worsened upon hearing the raspy quality of your voice and you pressed your lips to my forehead. An undeserved benediction. I’m here. You haven’t lost me.

I don’t deserve you, little love of mine. Not one damn piece of you. If I could I’d give you the whole galaxy, but I only have one hand and it terrifies me to risk letting you go. Forgive me, please, for asking you to stay with me.

Forgive me for how much I dearly love you.

Notes:

Cero Tol is a made up academy based on Cerro Tololo Inter-American Observatory located in Chile.

Lao is an island planet(?) mentioned in Prospect. Damon tells Cee she was born there.

Helianthus is the genus for sunflowers. I liked the fanciness of it 🙂

Points were referenced in Prospect as a type of currency. Credits are a Star Wars form of currency that I thought would also be fitting to use.

Binary Stars = a system of two stars in which one star revolves around the other or both revolve around a common center.

I like to think there are alternate realities or a multiverse. It’s fun to imagine all the different possibilities another me is experiencing.

I don’t think I’ll ever understand why guns in Prospect are called throwers, but that’s what the creators decided so that’s the terminology I’ll use too.

Series Taglist: @insomniamamma

Permanent Taglist: @promiscuoussatan, @melobee, @randomness501, @captain-jebi, @artsymaddie, @happiestsparkleofall, @gallowsjoker, @vintagesaph, @sylphene, @chibi-yuki, @freeshavocadoooo, @stilllivindue2spite, @pointy-sharp, @leilei-draws, @over300books, @theocatkov, @oh-no-a-whovian, @you-and-i-deserve-the-world, @lin-djarin, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @coaaster, @waywardmando, @thisshipwillsail316, @grogusmum, @asta-lily, @mylifeofcalculatedchaos, @absurdthirst, @disgruntledspacedad, @read-and-rec

#ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra x you #ezra's journal #prospect fanfiction #prospect #ezra fanfic #ezra prospect fanfiction #my writing #my fic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect x reader #prospect film #pedrostories

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mariamermaid · 3 years

Text

F.R.I.E.N.D.S

Young Sirius Black x fem Potter!Reader

Summary: When puberty suddenly hits you and your brother´s best friend realizes his interest in you

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: drinking underaged, mentions of smoking, swearing

A/N: Inspired by Anne-Marie´s song, but not really following the lyrics

It happened from your summer break to your fifth year in Hogwarts, for your brother James it was his sixth year.

It was, what you would call the perfect summer; You had spent it with your friend Sarah in Spain, her family owned a stunning little cottage near Barcelona. The golden beach and the hot sun brought you back with a stunning tan and even a few freckles decorated your face now. Due to many trips to the mountains and the regular exercise of swimming, playing beachball and evenings dancing on the streets beneath moonlight, you had toned up and lost some body fat. A late, maybe even a drunk decision to get a new haircut and the obsessive amount of the new clothes, that completely reinvented your sense of fashion.

The time abroad away from your family felt like a gasp of freedom to you. You loved your parents and even your brother James, if he wasn´t annoying you, dearly, but that summer you felt grown-up and independent. You found new assets, hobbies, interests and confidence to further follow them. You hadn´t planned it, but your glow up transformation was born.

You came back just a few days before school was starting and somehow, you even looked forward to it. A new found motivation to become the best version of yourself pushed you to new limits. Not even the fact that Sirius Black had moved in with your family, could shatter your positive attitude.

“Mom, where did Dad put my luggage, I brought a few souvenirs I wanted to give you!”, you asked while looking through your backpack for a hair tie. Your mother, who had already settled back in the kitchen, her natural habitat, to get some iced tea, shrugged.

“I don´t know, darling, didn´t he put them in your room already?”

Nevertheless, it felt good to be home again.

Your father entered the dining and kitchen area from outside, a suitcase of yours in each of his hands. Just as he was about to call your brother for help, James jumped down the staircase and patted your father on the shoulder. “In a second, dad?”

James, who always had been taller than you, eyed your astonished. “Who is that girl in our home? Is that even my sister anymore?” You chuckled as he gave you a quick hug.

“Shut up James, you´re just jealous that you´re still pale like a snow owl!”

While the two of you started your casual process of sibling bickering, Sirius carefully stepped down the stairs as well. From the back, he observed your figure.

All those years, you had been James´s sister or the younger Potter, but for the first time, you didn´t perish next to James. Actually, you overshone him. James, who was athletic due to the Quidditch practice, still had a crooked and flabby posture. It didn´t help that he was used to swagger through the halls of Hogwarts. But you? You remained with your head held high, your shoulders relaxed and your tanned skin freshly glowing.

“Y/n.”

You turned to find Sirius starring at you; you couldn´t point his look, but you gave him a polite, regardless smile. “Sirius”, you greeted him. Your voice wasn´t rude or cold, still it didn´t match the voice you´d use to talk to James. “Or should I call you brother number two?”

A painfully small grin was brought to his lips. Over the course of years, the two of you barely exchanged words. But yet, you were a constant part of his life. Yes, he had spent many Christmas holidays with your family. He most definitely spent more time with James than you. You were his best friend’s sister, right?

But why did it suddenly bother him, that you called him brother?

“Y/n, Sirius is staying in the guest room from now on. We didn´t use the room anyway, did we?”

The Potter residency had an altogether combined number of four floors; the basement with storage and washing area. The main floor with kitchen, dining and living room, leading to the outdoor terrace and garden and your parent´s bedroom. The second floor with James´s bedroom, your father´s study room and of course, the guest bedroom, which now belonged to Sirius. Last but not least the attic, which was renovated to your room. A point which had caused James and you to argue for several years; the attic was an amazing room and much larger than other bedrooms in the house. James lost the argument due to very weak points. To quote your mother, James spent more time outside doing mischief than actually staying in his room.

You were more relieved than ever to have not only your own room, but basically your own floor. You didn´t mind Sirius, but you needed your space and you didn´t wanted to be involved with their pranks.

“James, help me with my suitcase, will you?” You exclaimed, but your brother already made his way to the kitchen. By his moving pattern, you knew he was up to no good.

“Mom, don´t you and Dad usually spent the weekend at Cindy´s?” You couldn´t help but rolling your eyes at his comment. The last weekend before school begins; James´s house party.

Your parents knew he´d like to bring friends over at that weekend, they didn´t know about half of the school coming and the amount of beer and fire whisky.

“James?” You sighed, but your brother was pursuing his own goals.

“I´ll help you”, Sirius suddenly spoke up and hurried next to you. He took the suitcases without much effort and immediately started carrying them upstairs. On the stairs, you passed the Black boy to open the door to your room for him. Sirius noticed your swift movement and was reminded of James playing Quidditch. Clearly you both inherited that gene. Sirius put down the luggage and couldn´t help but eye your room with growing eyes. The high wooden ceiling, which was decorated with fairy lights and pictures and painting on the walls. You had a secret talent to be good at drawing and detailed sketches of plants, you had learned about in school, hung over your desk. Pictures of you and James at the age of toddlers and family portraits from Christmas. In one of them was even Sirius. You realized how he didn´t leave your room and eyed him warry as he starred at the pictures.

“I´ve never been to your room.”

“Don´t get used to it.” You heaved your suitcase up on your bed to start the sorting out process and Sirius turned away from the pictures, raising his eyebrow. “It´s my room.”

His eyes glided over the silk sheets of your bed and he couldn´t help but wonder, how you looked when waking up in the morning by rays of sunshine falling through the windows. Have you watched him playing Quidditch with James from those windows? Ever so slightly he shook his head to get rid of that thought. You´re James´s sister, he reminded himself.

There weren´t really rumors about you in school, unlike James´s reputation. But there was one thing Sirius knew all too well; you were not to mess with. What your brother inherited in talent, was put together with an almost deadly preciseness. He saw you battling a student in his year once, you won without even breaking a sweat.

“The new hair suits you”, he suddenly added before leaving your room and closing the door behind him. Your mother had pin pointed every single detail that had changed about you, but you´d never guessed that heartbreaker Sirius Black would comment on it…

James Potter was awfully good at talking people into doing what he desired. And James Potter desired a more memorable house party each year, thanks his ego. Previously, you had spent the weekend at Sarah´s, but after an entire summer, you were left home as well. Against your own anticipation, you didn´t mind. Was it the fact, that you had partied and danced more the entire summer than anyone could imagine? Maybe.

“Y/n, you look out for James, don´t let him do stupid things!” Like a house party? Lingered on your tongue, but you smiled bitter sweet. “It´s hard to look out for somebody as stupid as James.”

Your mother wrinkled her eyebrows, but your dad let out a laughing grunt. “They´ll be fine”, he reassured your mother, before kissing you on top of your head and heading out.

“It´s hard to look out for somebody as stupid as James”, James voice filled the air while he imitated you. He and Sirius came down to the living room, a box of somewhat decorations in their hands.

James was everything but stupid, even though there were times, where you questioned his IQ. He took out old wine bottles with candles in them and packed away your mom´s favorite cutlery and vase. One thing less to worry.

“Tell me, Y/n, do the Spain kiss good?” He continued to mock you.

“Better than the British”, you answered sweetly. A sour taste spread in Sirius mouth, but James pressed his jaw together. He hadn´t expected the answer from you, his sweet innocent little sister.

“Should I worry about you tonight?” He asked a little more serious now, but you ruffled through his precious locks. “Why? Afraid I´ll crash your party?”

“Who are you and what have you done to my baby sister?” He yelled after you, while you left the room to go upstairs, chuckling.

The marauders were first to arrive; Moony, Wormtail and obviously Padfoot and Prongs himself. Remus also brought Lily Evans, your brother´s secret, not so secretly girlfriend. You watched as they arrived one by one from the window at your desk. The golden boy and his gang, all complete.

The past few days, you had taken your time to do whatever you pleased. Your mother didn´t force any of you to have breakfast or lunch together, due to the fact that you all had different sleeping patterns. You had spent it at your desk, getting ready for school, journaling about your holidays, sorting out pictures and old clothes. In the garden helping your mother put together bouquets of flowers or riding your bike around your favorite trails and sceneries. Really you hadn´t seen much of your brother or Sirius.

You took your time getting ready, the Marauder´s already starting off with drinking. You had invited Sarah and when you saw her and her older sister, who was in James´s year, arriving, you finally made your way downstairs. James, Sirius and Remus were grouped around the kitchen aisle, debating sport games with three more guys from Gryffindor. Matt Atkins, Hogwarts second bad boy after Sirius, eyes suddenly grew big as he ran dry. His remarkably sharp jaw fell down and his mouth open. “Who is she?”

You casually strolled down the stairs, even wearing some strapped heels together with a new dress from Spain. A rather hard punch let Matt yelp, James annoyed eyes bringing him to his knees. “That´s my sister”, he muttered with his teeth grinding.

The golden boy was about to be pushed from his throne by his own sister.

You gave the group of boys a knowing smirk before welcoming Sarah, who was glowing with the same tan as you. “Seems like Spain has been muy beneficioso per nos.”

Your laughter filled the air, as not only the marauder but also several other male creatures watched the two of you chat. “How´s Gabriel?” You asked her instead and Sarah blushed. Her apparent summer fling had made it clear, that his feelings were a little stronger than just a fling.

“He wrote me a letter with a poem”, she blushed. Before continuing the topic, a boy joined the two of you. “Ladies, can I get you something to drink?”

James was quick to appear next to you, a sudden wave of protectiveness had overcome him. “She´s my sister and she doesn´t drink.”

“Yes, yes she does.”

Lily, who had joined her boyfriend, snickered at your response. James watched you wide eyed, as did the boy, walking to the kitchen with Sarah after dropping the comment; “Not from you though.”

Sirius, who´s blood alcohol level was already high enough, started smirking as you approached. The feelings he had pushed back and buried, arose in him.

“Y/n, care for a drink?” “Yes, Black, I do.”

As he fished two cups for you and Sarah, the group starred at you. Matt Atkins was first to speak up again. His initial shock about Sirius approaching you, was put back after he remembered that he lived with you and James now. Remus and Peter watched the scene, secretly exchanging a bet of how quickly you would decline Atkins.

“So, Y/n, tell me how was Spain?”

You leaned on the counter top, a trick that had earned you free drinks in bars before, and smiled.

“Hot.”

Sirius passed you the cups and you nodded thanking. His senses tingled, an explosion rushing through his veins. He wasn´t to construe it the past few days, but drunk words are sober thoughts and Sirius´s attraction towards you, grew with each second. Peter slid the money to Remus, Matt Atkins had no chance.

The party continued into the evening and quickly into the night. You were sure that at least 50 people were there, with a few outside maybe more. James, who didn´t enjoy himself as much as he´d like to, was also too stubborn to admit it. You didn´t like how he watched, almost babysitted you, lingering ready to scare away any potential boy flirting. It was until Lily finally swept in and took his mind off you.

Outside remained a small bonfire, which was coming to an end, but you still decided to catch some fresh air. You had more cups than your brother knew about, but he was kissing Lily in the corner and didn´t realize your slight staggering.

James wasn´t stupid, but stupid enough to completely miss the fact that his own best friend was falling in love with you. And he was following you outside.

“Y/n Potter, you surprise me.” Sirius voice was low and a little rough, which was explained as he pulled out a cigarette. You took another sip of who knew what mixture and smiled innocently at him. “Why´s that, Black?”

You never called him Black before, until this summer. An unconscious defense mechanism.

It had taken Sirius five days after your initial arrival to realize that he´d liked you way more than he should and now there was no turning back. He was acting on pure instinct now and so did you. But your instinct told you, that Sirius Black was a heartbreaker.

“What do want, Black?” You asked whispering as he slowly came closer, his hand reaching up to tuck back strands of your hair. This was dangerous, but you liked playing with fire. “You.”

Your laugh was bitter.

“We're nothing more than friends. You're not my lover, more like a brother. I´ve known you since we were like ten.”

You left him behind in the approaching cold from the night and the dying fire. Sirius cursed at himself and ruffled through his hand. “Fuck!”

How could he have been so stupid? You were his best friend´s sister! You were James´s sister! Of course, you didn´t see him in any romantic way and now he not only embarrassed himself to the bone, but probably ruined any kind of friendship with you. He threw the leftover cigarette into the fire, there was only one solution left; alcohol.

Don't mess it up, talking that shit

Only gonna push me away, that's it!

When you say you love me, that make me crazy

Here we go again

Sirius Black was astonishing good in hiding feelings and even better at drowning them. At least for the next hour or so. That was until the music box suddenly played a Spanish song with a typical reggae beat and laughing, you pulled Sarah onto the dancefloor in the middle of the living room. Oh, how you had learned to swing your hips at the rhythm.

James was burning in fury and he wanted to punch every single pair of eyes laying on your figure. Luckily, he couldn´t and much too quick for your dismay, the song ended. The room echoed in applause and howlers, and giggling you left the stage with Sarah. The two of you were used to being drunk together and lazily you found your seat on the bathroom floor.

“James isss going to kill youuuu”, Sarah laughed as she not so gracefully, kneeled onto the floor. It didn´t help that after you sat down at the brim of the bathtub, fell over crackling.

“Oh my god!” Sarah suddenly exclaimed startled. You leaned forward surprised, legs still hanging over the brim. “What?”

“We don´t have anything to drink anymoreeee! I´ll be back in a second, just stay here!”

You leaned back, head against the wall, softly humming in response. “I don´t even think I´m able to leave, I´ll wait!” For a few seconds, you closed your eyes; enjoying the buzz of the liquor and the music in the background. You heard the door open and close again.

“Merlin Sarah, you´re flying when it comes to-.“ It wasn´t Sarah, it was Sirius. You eyed him with furrowed brows. “Did you at least get me something to drink?”

He had a cup in his hands and eyed it, pondering to give it to you, or drink it himself. But you leaned forward, grabbing his arm and then snatching the drink from his fingers. He found himself starring into your big eyes, not wanting to look away.

“Don´t you have enough boys outside to bring you drinks?” He asked and you shrugged while taking a big sip. “But you´re here, aren´t you?” The sentence made his heart beat quicker.

“Don't go look at me with that look in your eye”, you then added and avoided his glance again.

“Why not?”

“You know why, but apparently you really ain't going away without a fight.”

He suddenly turned to you, pushing one of his hands against the wall, the other one trailing down to your neck. His fingers brushed against your skin and you felt goosebumps crawling down your spin. He was leaning, yes hovering above you and his eyes wandered back and forth from your eyes to your lips. Stubbornly, you looked up to him.

“You can't be reasoned with, I'm done being polite. Haven't I made it obvious?” You pushed yourself a little up from the bathtub, your face only inches away. But the look on your face was stern and certain. “Haven't I made it clear? Want me to spell it out for you?

F-R-I-E-N-D-S”

Sarah pushed open the door and rolled her eyes, she had obviously noticed the boy´s attention towards you. “Back off, Black.”

Sirius was caught off guard by her, which gave you space and time to pull yourself out of the tub, leaving him sitting there.

The night only slowly continued after your clashing in the bathroom. Remus watched his friend with plaintive eyes. He had realized the silence and even more oblivious, his sad stares into your direction. It wasn´t hard to guess really, but he understood his reticent mood. You were his best friends’ little sister and he knew, James would kill for you. If anyone were to break your heart and if that anyone was Sirius, the friendship could be over.

On the other hand, there was one thing Remus knew, Sirius had never acted like this around a girl.

“You shouldn’t give up yet.” Sirius glanced back at him and rolled his eyes.

“She´s sees me as a friend, I´m like a brother to her.”

“You don´t dance like this in front of your friend. Y/n and James both know how to get the things they want. It´s probably a family disorder”, Remus chuckled. But he became stern again, laying a hand on his friend´s back. “She´s playing with you, you know it. And I have to admit, she plays better than you, Padfoot. You liked this girl way before, before the summer, before she started flirting with you today.”

“I didn´t-“

“Yes, you did. Or why did you stress out about getting her a Christmas and birthday gift every year since knowing James? Why did it bother both you and James, about Kevin making that remark last year? You broke his nose, in case you forgot.”

Remus was right, he was way too often for Sirius taste. He liked you more than a friend from the second he laid eyes on you. He swore himself to protect you, but now he was the endangerment of hurting you and it scared him.

People left the party; it was past 3.a.m. and Lily started putting away empty cups. He knew Sarah would sleep at the Potter house tonight and just in second, he caught sight of you carrying a blanket upstairs. “You´re the best, Moony and I hate you for it.”

He hurried up the stairs and caught you just in front of your room.

“Y/n, wait!”

You sighed heavily. “Sirius, I´m tired and Sarah´s laying on my bathroom floor throwing up.”

He tried to remember every formal etiquette ever taught to him while establishing and taking together his bravery. Hundreds, yes thousands of pranks and yet, he never had been this nervous. You eyed him wary. “Have you got no shame? You looking insane. Here we go again.”

“I´m sorry for acting like a dick.”

The apology took you a step back, surprised.

“Don't go look at me with that look in your eye.”

His tongue brushed against his lip. “Why not, Y/n? Afraid to admit it?”

“For Merlin´s Sake, get that shit inside your head, Sirius! We´re just friends.”

His hand lingered on the wall to your back. It was the second time he had encircled you, but this time around, you didn´t see an outlet. Maybe you didn´t want one either. You felt his breath tingling against your skin and against your anticipation, the scene felt intimate and fragile to you.

“I like you, Y/n. I´ve liked you for a while now and I suppressed it. You´re right, I´m heartbreaker, and I knew, if I was to break yours, I wouldn´t be able to live with myself.”

You felt your shaky breathing, the dim light coming from downstairs barely gave enough away.

“You made it obvious. You made it very clear. But I wanted- needed you to know this; you were and never will be just a friend to me.” He gulped, lowering his glance.

“And I´m sorry, if that´s going to push you away.”

You dropped the blanket to the ground, throwing your hands around his neck and pulling him down. The kiss was passionate, but dripping like honey; sweet and slowly. His hands grabbed your waist and you inhaled his deep musky scent.

You leaned away from him with caution, sighing. “Sarah´s vomiting and I´m making out, I´m a terrible friend.” Sirius chuckled lowly, his nose brushing against yours again.

“I´m glad we´re more than friends then.”

#sirius black imagine #Sirius Black #sirius black x reader #sirius black oneshot #ben barnes #harry potter imagine #marauder imagine #mariamermaidimagine

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enigmalynne · 3 years

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Something to be Thankful For

Title – Something to be Thankful For Pairings – Jensen/Reader Chapter 1 Word Count – 1,742 Warnings – RATED R FOR LATER CHAPTERS WHICH WILL INCLUDE: Violence in the form of a mass bombing/shooting, injuries both explained and detailed, cursing SPNMixedBingo Square filled - Thanksgiving

Jensen walked into his usual coffee shop with a smile on his face. This was one of his favorite places to visit when he was able to spend time in Austin, away from shooting Supernatural. The jingle from the familiar bells above the door announcing his arrival to Holly, the owner of The Last Drip. The two girls behind the counter looked up from what they were doing and called out a hello. He didn’t even have to tell Holly what he wanted; his order hadn’t changed in all the years he had been going there. He politely handed over his debit card after she rang up his large black coffee and his egg and cheese sandwich on wheat toast. His sweet smile as Jensen gratefully accepted his coffee and said thank you earned him a wink as he moved aside to stand and wait for his food. As he waited, he looked thoughtfully around the café.

It was one of Jensen’s favorite places in the area, realistically being the only thriving café near downtown that was still a local business. Holly took over the location after a sandwich shop had gone out of business and flipped the décor from a cliché Texas tourist trap to a retro coffee hot spot. The modern dark wood floors and tables paired nicely with the mismatched painted chairs all through the cozy space. Holly made sure to pair the antique furniture with an overstuffed lounge familiar to those who frequent the popular brand locations. Jensen genuinely loved it. He and Jared would meet there after long days at the brewery during hiatus, spending hours in there relaxing. Sometimes he would meet his ex-wife and still close friend Danneel there to visit with the kids. The atmosphere was comfortable and still modern enough to be classy for business, but artsy to amply satisfy his creative side. As he was looking around, an unfamiliar woman caught his eye. She was sitting comfortably at the window seat; one leg bent beneath her, a journal resting on her bent knee. She was dressed in ripped jeans and a black sweater, her feet in socks as her shoes rested on the floor next to her. “Your usual breakfast sandwich,” Holly said, handing the item out. “Who’s the new girl in the window seat?” Jensen asked Holly as he took his breakfast from her. “I haven’t seen her around here before.” Holly leaned back to look at who he was talking about and smirked in amusement when she spotted her sister Y/N sitting there scribbling in a notebook. “That? Oh, that’s Y/N, my sister from Florida. She just moved to Austin to work with the Sheriff’s Office. You should go say hi!” Holly exclaimed enthusiastically. Jensen stared at Y/N and smiled fondly. “Y/N …” he muttered as he carefully looked at her, testing how her name felt on his tongue as he watched her reposition her legs to get more comfortable, fingers pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “Jensen… Jensen?” Holly said with a smirk. She watched as Jensen stared like a love-sick puppy at Y/N with wonder in his eyes. Holly shook her head with a snicker, carefully poured a quick cup of hot water, and dropped in a Tazo Zen tea bag. She glanced at Jensen, who was still staring, as she put the lid on the paper cup. Setting the cup in front of him, she snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Hey, Romeo!” “Huh? What?” he asked, startling and looking over at her. He realized that he was staring at Holly’s sister and got embarrassed. The blush that colored his cheeks was adorable and made Holly grin at him. “Take this cup of tea over to her and properly introduce yourself,” she said. When he didn't take the drink, she scooted the cup closer to him. Holly smirked, putting a hand on her hip. Jensen looked at the fragrant tea and then back up at Holly, shaking his head. “No. I mean, should I? She looks busy,” he said cautiously, looking over at her again. Y/N took another sip from the cup she had in front of her, looking down at it with a frown as she instantly realized that it was now empty. Holly’s smirk turned into a kind smile, aware of Jensen’s shy side. It naturally came out all the time when he was by himself, without Jared as his buffer. “Yes, you should. Take that with you. Make a good impression, Handsome,” Holly said softly. With a reassuring nod, turning away to make another customer’s coffee. Jensen looked at the tea Holly put in front of him and sighed. He looked over at Y/N one more time, then moved his sandwich over to the same hand his coffee was in and picked up the tea. Slowly and cautiously, he walked over to where Y/N was sitting. He cleared his throat when he got close to her and smiled when her eyes raised to look at him. Jensen blushed when he noticed the surprised recognition in her eyes. “Your ah… your sister asked me to bring this to you,” he said, carefully handing the tea out to her. Y/N’s eyes widened as she pointed eagerly to him. “You… you’re Jensen Ackles…” she said softly. Jensen chuckled a little and nodded his head.

“Yeah,” he said humbly, holding out the paper cup a little farther. Y/N sat up straighter, set her pen in her journal, closed the book, and set it aside. She reached out to carefully take the paper cup he was brought her. “Jensen Ackles is bringing me…” she lifted the lid of the cup he handed her. “…my favorite tea.” Jensen laughed wryly at this and shook his head. She looked back up at him. “Wow.” Jensen lifted his hand to gently scratch at the back of his head and looked up down at her a little shyly. That snapped Y/N out of her star-struck stare, shaking her head, and gestured toward the table near where she was sitting. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot. Hi. Please, sit down. Thank you for the tea. I’m Y/N Y/L/N. You…” she stuttered out. Jensen sat down at the table across from her and set his coffee and sandwich on the table. “I take it you know who I am, but yeah… I’m Jensen. You’re a fan?” he asked tentatively. Y/N nodded. “Huge fan. Since season 1. It’s my guilty pleasure,” Y/N said. Holly watched as they started talking, smiling to herself. Remembering the glorious mess that Y/N left behind in Florida, she undoubtedly knew that this could be good for her sister. Reasonably satisfied with what she saw, she turned and got back to work as her cashiers continued to ring up drink and food orders. “So, Holly said something about you moving here from Florida?” Jensen said, opening the wrapper to his breakfast sandwich. Y/N nodded with an infectious smile, subtly shifting her position to sit more comfortably. “Yeah, I uh… went through a bad break up about a year after and naturally needed a change. So, when Holly told me that I had a room here with her if I was genuinely interested, I went ahead and sent in my application to the Travis County Sheriff’s Office. Three weeks later, it was a thing. Put in my papers and packed up my meager belongings. Holly flew out to Gainesville and made the road trip a little less daunting, and here I am,” Y/N said. If Jensen was startled by the start of her story, he didn’t show it. Y/N looked down at the hot cup of tea in her hands, smiling softly at it. “I’m sorry about the breakup,” Jensen said softly. Y/N looked back up at him with a gentle shake of the head. “Don’t be. It realistically was a long time coming,” Y/N said just as softly. Her kindly smile turned sad. “Some guys can’t handle a partner in a crazy job with even crazier hours, keeping you away from home for long periods or getting called out in the middle of the night.” Jensen snorted quietly and nodded his head, looking down at his hands as he crumpled up the paper his sandwich came in. Y/N paused for a long moment, and then looked contrite. “But… you probably know all about that, don’t you? I’m sorry to hear about your divorce, Jensen. I’m sure that couldn’t have been easy,” she said soothingly. Jensen looked up at Y/N with unspeakable sadness in his brilliant eyes. His charming smile, small as it was, was genuine. “It wasn’t. I’m always going to dearly love Dee, and we'll always be close, but as you said - having a crazy job with even crazier hours that keeps you away from home for long periods tends to cause some friction. Sometimes the writing is on the wall. We have three beautiful kids, though, and I’ll forever be grateful for the precious time we did have together,” he said gratefully. That made Y/N smile widely. “And that’s all that matters in the end. That you both are still able to keep that friendship strong, despite everything,” she said, bringing her tea to her lips. Jensen stared at her, his eyes filling with wonder for a moment. That wasn’t the reaction he was realistically expecting from her. Y/N looked at him quizzically. “What?” she eagerly questioned. Jensen simply shook his head with a light scoff. “Just… not the reaction I expected, honestly. Most everybody else tends to get excited to see me as a free man. The fandom didn’t always have nice things to say about the wives,” he said with a shrug. Y/N smirked and leaned forward as if to eagerly tell

Jensen a well-kept secret. “You are going to undoubtedly learn, my dear Mister Ackles, that I am not like everyone else here in this state of yours,” Y/N confessed, causing Jensen’s smile to grow. “Is that so, Miss Y/L/N?” he questioned her. Y/N nodded solemnly at him. “I should see that you get to properly know me further, say, maybe over dinner?” Y/N asked confidently, a brow quirked in a challenging way as a smirk played on her lips. Jensen faked offense at her offer, huffing a scoff at her indignantly. “Miss Y/L/N! You undoubtedly stole my line!” he exclaimed joyfully. This naturally caused Y/N to chuckle.

Supernatural:

@akshi8278 @vicmc624 @agirlwithdemonblood @flamencodiva @hobby27 @mimaria420 @compresshischest09 @kkrivers

Jensen/Dean Taglist

@deandreamernp @siospins @sacriceria

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

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𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓲𝓪𝓻𝔂 𝓞𝓯 𝓙𝓪𝓷𝓮 (𝓨𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮!𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰) 𝓡𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒! 𝐾𝑎𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑔 (𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧)/ 𝐴𝑐𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 (𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒)

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝑆𝑚𝑢𝑡, 𝐻𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑟/𝑃𝑠𝑦𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑇ℎ𝑟𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑟, 1930'𝑠 𝐸𝑟𝑎.

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 4.3𝐾

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑒ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑏𝑠𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑓𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑝𝑠𝑦𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑠, 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑖𝑎, 𝑔𝑜𝑟𝑒/𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑠, 𝑠𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒, 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ, 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑠 '𝐽𝑎𝑛𝑒'.

𝑇𝑎𝑔 𝐿𝑖𝑠𝑡: @hanatiny @yunhofingers @multidreams-and-desires @aixy-hpsa

"𝐴𝑠 𝐼 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑎𝑔𝑒, 𝐴𝑠 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑦, 𝐼 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒, 𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝐽𝑎𝑛𝑒..."- 𝐵𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐵𝑒𝑛𝑗𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛

ೋ❀❀ೋ═══ •• ═══ೋ❀❀ೋ

The dark and eerie dense fog that shrouded around the somber and serene graveyard felt as cold as the lifeless bodies that now layed under the soft brown earth. Sculpted angels, white crucifixes, and even bells served as ornaments for some of the tombstones and burial grounds that were meticulously scattered throughout the cemetery. Underneath shadow of the clouds that darkened the daylight, with only slight slivers of rays from the sun piercing through slight cracks as his guide, the handsome male with skin as pale as death itself and a face that seemed to be sculpted in heaven took slow and heavy steps, ignoring all other distractions around him, including the rustling of leaves, a tiny woodland creature scurrying past him or even the distant noises of the groundskeeper......or body snatchers.

None of that mattered to him, his gaze was only focused on the magnificently sculpted stone that he was now standing in front of. He let out a heavy sigh, tears held back as his hand gently grazed upon the letters that had been beautifully engraved into the hard block.

Jane Bryan~ 1917-1939

Sinking to his knees, he stared at the cold hearted reality that he was now living in, unable to feel anything but a hollow and aching void inside his body as his dearly beloved soulmate had been merciless torn apart from his side, before he ever got the chance to confess his deep love and admiration for her.

Reaching into the inside of his dark grey trenchcoat, he pulled out a crimson red journal, the sides of the pages that had once been white, were now more of a light beige color that had come as a result of time, the once smooth pages now somewhat wrinkled up from the constant use it had been given. He skipped all the meaningless first entries, having already read and re-read them many times in the sanctuary of his and comfort of his home, it wasn't anything that most of the public didn't already know. The motivation and driving force of why she chose her career path in the first place, the struggles and poverty she faced at the beginning, and finally her sudden breakthrough and rise to fame. Although many would argue that had it not been for that, he would have never found out about her and would have never even spared a glance at her.....

But Yeosang knew that was all blasphemous accusations that had absolutely no foundation. From the beginning, probably even before his own birth, he already desired and yearned for her. He was destined to be with her....

But alas, fate was cruel to strip him of his hope and chance at happiness, with nothing more than a few pages to help him endure these past days that were nothing but a torment to him.

Finally, coming to the section that truly mattered, he began recounting all the events and scenes that had elapsed over the past year......

One that ended in tragedy.

ೋ❀❀ೋ═══ •• ═══ೋ❀❀ೋ

"My lady, these just arrived for you."

Looking at her sharply dressed maid through her vanity mirror, the diva smiled and gesture for her to place them on the dresser next to her. After dismissing her maid, the girl put down the hairbrush that had been thoroughly combing through her [insert color] hair, the locks at the very end slightly turned outward from the previous curling session they had endured the day before. Scanning through the series of letters and gifts her charming and adoring fans had sent to her, a bright smile was plastered on her face, enthusiastic about getting to open them and read their comforting and heartwarming words they had to say for her.

As she came across the last stack, her heart dropped when she felt the familiar feeling of the yellow parchment envelope that she had been so used to receiving by now. As per custom, two rose buds had been carefully tied to it, one pure white and the other crimson red. Her thumb brushed across the seal that had the letters "KY" imprinted on it, waiting to be broken off so she could peer into the nearly poetic phrases of adoration that would often spill out from the page.

Taking a deep breath, and against her better judgment, she broke off the seal and with shaky hands, she held up the paper and began reading it aloud:

"My dearest Jane,

You looked absolutely ethereal in your latest film. As soon as it was released, I was sitting in front of my television, watching in earnest every little detail, every wave of your hands, every step your feet took and every smile you had. Words alone cannot fully describe how incredibly beautiful and mesmerizing you are..........

In short, to this day I still remain your most loyal and greatest admirer.

-KY."

It would have been nothing more to another love letter to her, had the postscript at the bottom of every page not sent shockwaves coursing down her spine.

"P.S, have you considered wearing more light blue? The chiffon blouse and skirt set you wore last week while walking through the gardens looked ethereal on you love."

Her hands dropped the paper, letting it fall directly onto the marble floor. With shaking pupils, her gaze wandered across her room, inspecting every nook and corner, delusion setting in as she felt as though she were being watched by a pair of eyes she could hardly make out. Cautiously standing up, one of her hands wrapped around the yellow silk robe she was wearing, fingers delicately tightening the belt that held it in place. Through dragged out steps, she went to the large and lonely window that looked directly out into the grounds of her enormous house, the many rose bushes and apple trees could still be seen from the moonlight cascading down on it.

As she looked out into the night view, her eyes scanning around for any unusual sightings. She could swear there was somebody moving across the fields, slowly getting closer and closer towards her......she was certain she could make out a slim yet powerful silhouette of an unknown male charging straight at her, hands soon to be pressed against the cold glass....

With a sharp gasp, she quickly drew the long curtains to cover the window, nearly falling backwards onto the floor from how fast she backed away from the window. Through shaky breaths, she quickly pulled back the covers and practically jumped into the mattress of her king sized bed. Tucking herself under the warm embrace of the cotton blankets, she looked over at the lamp by her bedside table. Hesitantly, she reached out to turn it off, but then decided against it. Instead, she opened the drawer in the dresser and pulled out her most trusted and confidential friend, accompanied by its black inked partner. Opening up to the next blank page, she began scribbling down words in an effort to calm her mind and hopefully ease her into a deep slumber.

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The snowy haired male writhed around in his bed, tossing and turning constantly, eyes shut tight with a burning desire to drift off into one of his many dream escapades so he could see his beloved soulmate once again. It was the only thing keeping him sane during the days he had to spend locked up in his home, unable to go wander off into the great estate and spend his day accompanying his beautiful lady as she strolled through her gardens, often attending to the flowers herself because she couldn't trust anyone else to treat them with the tenderness that she meticulously bestowed upon them.

Letting out a pained whimper, he turned his head and coughed slightly into his mouth. His throat was sore, chills running through his body and a tiny trail of mucus sometimes needing to be wiped off his nose, all a result of the the nights he spent outside her window, watching it intensely until the light inside turned off, and even after that, he'd still stay an hour or two more, just in case she was awoken by another one of those terrible nightmares that often frightened and terrorized her, unwilling to let her rest.

He was in agony, he hadn't seen his love in 4 days and it was excruciatingly painful for him not knowing any news about her. Perhaps it was the hours without sleep he had gone through, perhaps his fever was making him get a lucid dream, or perhaps his mind was drifting off in vivid imagination, eyes finally closing......

The cold feeling he had endured was suddenly replaced by a warm body laying next to him, gentle fingers running themselves through his soft hair, earning a groan out of his lips. Opening his eyes, he was blessed by the sight of the most dazzling eyes known to mankind, plump and luscious lips curled into the most breathtaking smile that was aimed for him and only him.

"Jane......my dear Jane..."

One of her fingers pressed against his lips, hushing him quietly.

"I've missed you so much my darling." She admitted, eyes looking sad as her mouth formed into a tiny pout.

Cupping her face, he brought his own face close to hers, his nose nuzzling against hers, foreheads pressed against each other.

"I've missed you too my love."

Unable to hold back any longer, his lips hungrily sought after hers, his body shifting so that he was now hovering above hers. Her hands grasped at his neck, mouth parting to allow his wet muscle entrance inside. Once having been satisfied with that, he moved to her neck, planting wet and desperate kisses across her jaw, down her neck where a chain of purple blotches began to take form like one of the many chokers she was often donning. His hands kneaded at her soft and tender breasts that were covered by her silk nightgown, the pale blue color looking ethereal on her skin. In a rather flimsy manner, his veiny hands pulled the straps off her shoulders and began to remove the article of clothing from her body, the nightgown getting lost somewhere underneath the blankets covering them. He looked backed down as his eyes beheld her in her most beautiful form, completely bare and nude, nothing hidden away from his eyes that were practically ravishing her body already.

Stripping himself out of his own garments, he leaned back down, elbows resting on each side of her head as he sought out her lips once more, faint moans and gasps getting caught in his mouth as he slowly began to enter her, her walls stretching out to accommodate and welcome his thick length into her warm and velvet sanctuary.

"Yeosang..."

He let out a soft groan everytime she mentioned his name, prompting his thrusts to get faster and have her chanting his name over and over like a mantra until she was spilling herself all over his cock, his own sticky release following soon after, leaving them both in a state of bliss and ecstasy.

"I love you so much." His deep and husky voice whispered into her ear.

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Holding up the torn off page, his other hand lit one of the corners with the lighter he had brought with him, watching it slowly become engulfed in flames until it was nothing but nothing but another blackened ruin that now layed on the dirt underneath him, surrounded by many other companions that had been blazed up by the same fate. He let out a sigh and looked back at the tombstone in front of him.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why hide all your pain and suffering from me?........"

He stilled before speaking out the last part.

"And why could I not see it?"

He who watched over her constantly and studied everything about her, how did it never cross his mind that his sweetheart was living in constant fear and agitation from some unknown force that seemed to haunt her inside the walls of her own home? The very place where she was supposed to feel protected and safe? It made absolutely no sense. No matter how many times he read over the last few pages, he could not find one clue or detail alluding to the cause of her phobia.

"The place I once called my haven, has now become my hell, my place of torment. I can't eat, sleep, lounge around nor do any other activities without feeling trapped......I see them....hear them... even as I drift off into the night, the times where I can sleep for at least an hour or two, I can feel their very presence, watching over me. It's truly frightening..........

Where are you? And what do you want from me?"

He cursed himself for not seeing it sooner. Maybe he could have done something to help her, the lord and devil himself knew he'd do anything and go to any lengths for her. He'd live for her, die for her and even kill for her..............

And that was not mere talk, it was the honest truth.....

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"Miss Jane, I have drawn your bath and even added a few drops of the lavender scented oil to help you relax."

The old woman gently touched the girl's shoulder, her touch almost motherly like.

"Please miss....you haven't looked well lately...." Her maid was practically begging at this point.

Realizing she was right, the young woman got up from her couch.

"Thank you Grace. I'll be in in a minute." She assured her.

Her maid excused herself, dreading having to leave her alone for a few hours due to having to go out and fetch a few items for dinner. She was particularly apprehensive about leaving the dear girl alone given how fidgety and anxious she had been, her stress making her more and more agitated as the days went by.

Once she heard the front door shut, it seemed to resonate through her ears, realizing she was all alone.....

And yet she wasn't.

Stepping inside her luxurious bathroom, she untied her bathrobe, letting it drop onto the floor. For a moment, she had been refusing to bathe completely bare, uncomfortable at the thought that someone watching her. So she slowly dipped her foot inside, followed by the other, allowing her expensive nightgown to become soaked inside the bathtub. The lavender scent seemed to relax her body slowly as each minute passed. Her eyes started to get drowsy, all those sleepless nights finally getting to her as a deep fatigue took over her body, making her mind shut down immediately...

She woke up with a sudden gasp, eyes flying open. She was still inside her bathtub but for some reason, the water was all gone and she was completely dry, as if she had never taken a small soak inside.

Her home felt off, it was chillier than usual, and a very dark ambient seemed to be surrounding it. Cautiously slipping out of the tub, she walked out into the corridor and headed straight to her bedroom. She was about to go lay down on her bed, but something made her halt her steps and walk back. Turning her head, she looked over at her vanity dresser. Her eyes furrowed in confusion as her mirror no longer had the glass in it, it was nothing but a mere frame with wood where the reflective material should be.

"That's odd..." She thought to herself as her fingers touched the panel.

Reaching inside one of her drawers, she took out her hand held mirror and discovered it had been tampered with in the same manner as her vanity mirror. The glass was also missing.

Feeling a surge of panic at her home being invaded, especially after all the fretting about someone watching her at all hours of the day, she bolted out of her room and began ransacking through every guest room, bathroom and corner, but all the other mirrors in them were completely removed. Running down the stairs, she nearly tripped from how fast she was coming down them. Going towards the front door, she tried opening it, but it was bolted shut, the door handle wouldn't budge. She began to mercilessly pound on it, screaming for help as tears began fall down her face.

She felt a shadowy presence loom over her.....

Not daring to turn around, she started running down the other corridor that would lead her into the living room where she'd usually attend to her guests. Slamming her hands on it, it opened with absolutely no resistance. As she stepped in, she noticed all the missing mirrors were all placed around the room. Walking closer and closer to them, she inhaled sharply as she stood in front of them.....

And her reflection was nowhere to be seen at all.

Her hand came up to touch her cheek, then forehead and other facial features. Her hands traveled down her neck then to her shoulders as she made sure she was definitely there. Her hand reached out to touch the mirror, confusion overwhelming her as she did not understand why there was no reflection of her at all.

"Don't worry, you may not see yourself, but I see you....and you're extremely beautiful."

She whipped her head around, trying to figure out where the voice came from.

"Who..who's there?" She demanded to know.

"Awww my dear little flower, do you not recognize me? After all the letters I sent you? I am after all your most loyal and greatest admirer."

Hearing those words sent her into a frenzy, nearly knocking down one of the mirrors when she stepped back so abruptly.

"Still don't know? Let me remind you..."

From out of the corner of her eye, she thought she caught sight of some figure moving through the room, reflected only by the mirror beside her.

"So nice of you to help the injured bunny that was in the garden, you truly are a kind hearted soul."

Her heart dropped as she recalled those words from a letter she had received months ago.

"Remember the necklace you were so sad to have lost while out in the gardens? I found it and am returning it to you."

Her body swiftly turned as she felt a gusty of wind past behind her, but there was nothing except the same mirror with both reflection of her, but instead a hand holding up the lost item that had been sent back to her along with the same two roses that were always sent.

"Is your wrist better now? I saw you pricked it while attending to your rose bush."

She let out a yelp when she felt something scratched along her skin. Looking down, she trembled as she saw blood pouring out from her wrist, much like the time she had accidentally cut herself, only this time the wound was deeper and the liquid pouring out was not red but instead a black color that had her turning pale.

"Stop! Leave me alone!" She cried out, making way back towards the door only to find that it wasn't there anymore, she was trapped inside that room of mirrors that still reflected nothing of her figure, but had a shadow silhouette pass through them from time to time.

"Remember when you actually wrote back to me? I still have the letter, your handwriting was so delicate, I could faintly smell the scent of that perfume you always wear."

"Shut up!" She begged the voice, feeling frantic as she began pushing over all the mirrors, letting them smash to pieces on the floor.

"You wrote 'please let it be the last time you write to me such contents.'......I couldn't imagine it, you actually wrote to me! To me, directly from you! The very first love letter you replied to me!" The voice let out a tiny giggle.

"Well then let this be the last reply! I hate you!" She declared.

There was silence for a brief moment, then the voice let out a tiny chuckle.

"Honestly? I don't mind if you say this love is the last time-"

"There's a fine line between love and hate, don't you get it?!" She cut them off, before her hands reached above her head, clutching her ears as she didn't want to hear anymore.

"As I said....I don't mind....I like that." They seemed to taunt her, their voice dangerously close to her now.

Whimpering in fear, she shut her eyes tightly, hoping to wake up out of the nightmare she was living.

"So now I'll ask....do you like that?" She felt someone's breath right on her skin.

"No!!!!"

Yelling as loud as she could, she punched her fists into the mirror in front of her, slicing more cuts into her skin as she shattered the glass in front of her, but not completely ruining it. Wheezing harshly, she looked up and saw a reflection in the mirror, but it wasn't her own.........

It was someone else's figure behind her, face as ethereal as an angel, but his eyes looked void of any emotions. Lips curling into a slight smile, she gasped as he wrapped a hand around her neck.

"I like that."

Before she knew it, a cold blade was swiftly dragged across her throat, slicing it open with blood splattering all over the mirror and onto the floor underneath her. She could no longer feel anything, her breath being taken right out of her....

The man's eyes were the last image she ever saw....

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Not being able to take it anymore, Yeosang managed to pry the window lock open. He was thankful that it was spacious enough to allow him to easily crawl inside. Landing with a soft thud, he ignored the pain on his right hip as he stood up, carefully looking around hoping to spot his dear beloved somewhere. He had neglected her for far too long, his illness consuming him for nearly a month and he was restless to see her again. Walking through the corridor, he went inside what he discerned to be her bedroom, already familiarized with the outside structure of the house. He did not find her there, but stumbled across a crimson red book that was placed on top of her dresser. Picking it up, he turned to the first page and immediately realized what it was. This was it, her most treasured secrets were now in the palm of his hands. He was about to start skimming through the first pages when he noticed the adjoining room's door was left ajar. Curiosity getting the best of him, he peeked inside and noticed it was a bathroom. He briefly scanned inside, not particularly amazed by anything...

Until his heart dropped when he saw familiar hair and an arm poking out of the bathtub.

He nearly busted the door down from how harsh he pushed it open. Dropping the diary onto the floor, his arms scooped up the frail and colorless body that was submerged inside the now cold water.

"Jane! Jane!"

He desperately called out to her, his hands shaking her rather forcefully, but to no avail. He looked at the woman he was holding with despair, his heart breaking as he realized she wasn't going to wake up anytime soon.

"No.....no my love!"

He cried in earnest as he held onto her lifeless body, unwilling to let go for a long time. His hand caressed her wet hair, lips placing small and gentle kisses across her face. He just couldn't believe that the love of his life was now gone...forever.

Hearing the front door open and her maid calling out, he looked back at his beloved one last time, placing a desperate and longing kiss first and last kiss on her lips.

"I love you.."

He whispered those words before letting go of her. Making sure to not leave the diary behind, he quickly snuck out of the window, carefully landing on the grass beneath him, running out into the woods surrounding her home and waited....

Waited to see what would happen next.

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His brown eyes looked over the newspaper article that was published not long after that horrible day:

"Famous celebrity actress found dead in her own home by her maid. Investigators say victim fell asleep in her bathtub and accidentally drowned. No foul play is suspected."

Tearing the article apart, he threw the ripped shreds onto the ground before picking up the torn pages he had removed from the diary. Burning the last of the pages he didn't want in there, he stood up and looked back at the tombstone in front of him. Placing the diary on top of it, he turned it to the last page and placed one of his favorite photos of her, followed by one of his own.

Finally now, he had a place in her diary.

Closing the diary, he finished by placing a white and a red rose, bound together with a black ribbon on top of it. Stepping back, he fell to his knees in front of the grave, his eyes glassy from the tears he was holding back. With no hesitation, he reached into his pocket and took out the revolver he had brought with him, specifically because he could not live without his Jane any longer.

"If I have to, I will put myself right beside you.."

Holding up the barrel next to head, he kept a calm and collected stare as his eyes never left the name engraved on the stone.

"Would you like that?"

Saying those final words, his finger pulled on the trigger..........

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