i write things

i'm a fanfic writer or something of the like requests are technically open i guess (links are on the green dots)

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Master Prompt List

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[ask-frostiron-blog1]

Person: Your writing is so good!

Me:

[katelynnsmusings]

Description: Clark sibling thing idek. Characters: Alicia Clark, Nick Clark Notes: This one’s just kind of... angst-ish?

Nothing’s ever felt like home to Alicia more than her brother has. Even when he’s the chaos he’s the calm among the storm, the safe harbor to anchor in, the only real home that she’s ever felt. It surprises her that a person could feel that way and that Nick of all people would be hers after the whirlwind of benders and vanishings and rehab trips that have taken up the last few years of her life but somehow despite all of that, he’s still her brother.

She can’t sleep when he’s not home. She barely even wants to breathe. When their dad died, the first and only thing she wanted is to be able to hold him close even though time and time she’s never been enough for him. It’s not healthy, she thinks, that the only person she lets lay a hand on her is someone who has been so intimately involved with her hurt over the years, but fuck if she’s gonna fight it.

Bender four thousand six hundred and twenty-seven, she thinks as she lays in his bed, obviously exaggerating the numbers as Nick hasn’t even been lost in drugs for that many days in his life. It feels like he has been, though. As much as she can remember when the were younger and happier and everything was easier, it all just feels like a dream when he’s not home. She’s not sure she remembers what his laugh is like any more because she never hears it. 

Maybe he’s not even high this time - maybe he’s just dead. It’s a morbid thought but sometimes Alicia thinks that maybe that would be better for everyone. There would be no more worrying about where he was or what he was doing. There’d be no more praying to just finally be good enough. 

She rolls on to her stomach, pulls her arm in towards her chest. It’s his bed and his blankets smell like him - it’s the closest thing she has had to her brother in a couple weeks now.

For a moment it almost feels like he’s really there, and that one moment was all she needed to fall asleep for the first time in three days.

She wakes up to the creaking of a door startling her from her slumber, demanding her attention as it peeks open and a form walks in. The light flickers on faster than anyone can even realize there’s another person in the room, and immediately her heart drops in her chest.

“Nicky?” She croaks, voice tired and gravelly from sleep. She thinks that she’s still dreaming for a moment as she watches his expression turn somber and she lets go of his blankets just enough to use her elbow to prop her body slightly up.

“What are you doing in here?” He asks as he walks in, avoiding her eyes the whole time. It’s awkward, he’s awkward, as he brings a hand to the back of his neck. The make eye contact but only for a second, just enough for Alicia’s dreamy haze to be replaced with a mixture of bitterness and happiness. He’s back home and there’s always mixed feelings when he comes home.

He’s her person, he’s always her person, but Alicia wouldn’t be damned if each time he left didn’t sting a little worse than the last. All she wants is to be enough, and it seemed like she never would be.

“I... have a hard time sleeping when you’re gone,” she admits as he closes his door behind him and she watches through heavy, sleep-clouded eyes as he chews on his lip. He was trying not to look her in the eye - can he tell that she’s upset? That he’s hurting her? All of the things she wants to say but can never find the words to? Sometimes she just wants to scream at him.

The silence that follows is deafening. For a moment neither of them moves - and she probably should, because this is his bed and not her own and he’s probably going to want it.

She doesn’t though - and he doesn’t ask her to. Instead he looks everywhere but right at her for a minute and then walks over to the bed. He sits on the edge and leans over the mattress, supporting himself with a hand braced against the sheets.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He always says he’s sorry and Alicia always wants to believe him - but is he really if he keeps walking away? He scratches at the back of his neck nervously as she rolls away from him and on to her back. Her arms go up, resting behind her head, and her expression is unreadable - she feels like she can’t even read herself.

“If you’re so sorry...” Her words are tainted with bitterness and once she realizes that she cuts herself off short, gives him an unimpressed stare with tightened lips before looking away. Then, once she can no longer see him, she speaks softer: “If you’re so sorry, then can I stay? I don’t... I don’t wanna be alone. I missed you.”

Nick chews on his own lip again, looks up to his ceiling before back to the brunette. Even if he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t acknowledge it, he knows that he’s the main source of her pain.

Maybe one day he would be able to get it right and stop hurting the person that matters most to him - today was not that day though. For now all he can do is wordlessly slide his covers over himself and take up the space she had just emptied when she slid over. 

He leans in close and kisses her forehead. “Anything you need,” he agrees. 

It’s the least he can do, and for her it means more than he could ever imagine.

[katelynnsmusings]

Description: At the stadium, everything changes. Pairing: Nick Clark x Alicia Clark Notes:  This belongs in the trash and so do I. Usually I just consider the Clarks to be really close siblings but sometime’s it’s fun to blur the lines.

The first time that she kisses him she doesn’t mean to - there was just something about early mornings and sunlight peaking through the blinds and the fact that she’d just slept a full night for the first time in months that made waking up in someone’s arms feel like heaven. She realizes what she’s doing a moment too late, though, as his brown eyes flash open and all she can see is confusion and her heart starts to race.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers as she pulls away, but no matter how hard she tries she can’t break away from his gentle gaze. The feeling of his lips lingers against her own. He looks so hard but he feels so soft and she knows, she just knows, that she has gone and made a mess of things. She’s frozen on the spot, though - hovering above his chest, her leg hooked around up his hips, his arm no longer limp against the bed where her head rested moments ago. He tenses up just like she does and the moment feels like a million years.

It wasn’t the first time that she had woken up like that with him, but it was the first time in years, especially since they started to date and he started to vanish more often and the end of the world put its weight upon their shoulders. There are been so many times that she has held him close and never even meant to, didn’t even know until morning came and she woke up to being held. That on its own is nothing new, nothing she frets over - something she hasn’t fretted over since she was young and naive.

She’s immediately reminded of what it was like to be young - of all the times they had passed out with their heads against each other on the couch after a late movie night, the few and far between moments where she had come to him broken-hearted thanks to another sharp-edged boy, or curled up next to him in bed after he finally git home from a bender.

“I can’t sleep when I’m waiting for someone,” she had said when he walked in to his room only to find her curled up wide-awake on her bed.

“I swear I won’t go again,” he promised - he never followed through.

As she hovers above him the confusion fades out of his eyes. She can’t name the replacement - something between apology and regret and guilt and comfort all mixed in to one telling expression. She knows it because she wears it too, because she’s worn it ever time they’ve touched since the first time that she had woken up in his arms. It’s easy but at the same time it feels wrong, like she’s breaking some rule just for wanting to be close to him. This time it’s more than that, though. This time... is there truly a right way to feel?

She doesn’t even realize that he raised his hand until his fingers are running through her hair and though her first instinct is to jolt she doesn’t fight it. Subconsciously she leans in to his touch, something she has felt time and time again even as girlfriends and drugs and everything had come between them.

Only as his soft, angel eyes tell her that everything is alright can she relax.

Even that is only for a moment.

She's surprised when that touch tightens, when her hair is grasped between his fingers so softly she can barely even tell, and in the span of a heartbeat her world changes. He’s so gentle with her that she can’t help but give in to the way that he guides her, the way that he meets her in the middle, and as soon as he kisses her (he kisses her) she’s left speechless. He kisses much softer than she had ever thought he would, though it pains her to admit that she had thought about this.

She knows it’s wrong and terrible and that her mother would be angry and she shouldn’t have dared to lay a hand on him but now? Now it feels like this was inevitable. She had sworn she would always be the strange little sister, always a little too attached to her big brother. She’d always thought that she was wrong to let the lines blur, to enable her own emotions, to even let the thought of kissing him pass through her head.

Now she’s not sure what she thinks.

[katelynnsmusings]

Description: She’s pulled away kicking and screaming. Once again not a fix-it fic - in fact it’s probably worse than the canon. Characters: Nick Clark, Alicia Clark Notes:  I’m the queen of angst and I’m still bitter that my son is dead. Includes self harm (not graphic) and suicide so uh, avoid this if that’s gonna fuck you up.

She refuses to let go of him. His last breath leaves his body and all she can do is cling harder. Her fingers wrap in to the fabric of his shirt until she was hurting herself, until her nails dug in to her own palm, until her nails blanched to an unnatural shade of white. Minutes pass and no one says a word because she’s there and she’s begging with death, bargaining with whatever might be out there, desperate for this to all just be the worst nightmare that she’s ever had.

She’d thought that she was prepared for it. After all the times that he had gone missing over the years, all the rehab trips and relapses, after realizing years after the fact what she’d walked in to back when she was twelve and the darkness was just starting to fester within his soul and he had a knife in a hand but - oh, no leesh it’s okay. everything’s okay. what do you need? He’d put the knife down on the table beside his bed and pulled his sleeve back down too fast for her to even see the red lines that already tainted his skin.

Him - she’d always just needed him. There’s no one that she’s ever needed more than him. The only thing she’d had to hold on to in a long time was him, and she’d thought, hoped, that he felt the same way about her. For once she had felt like a child again, back before everything god bad. Back when Nick was the kind of brother that she would follow to the ends of the earth.

She still would.

“Alicia, we should go.” Strand speaks out and it only makes her sob harder. She falls forward and his body is still warm but even though it’s been years since she last properly laid her head upon him she still knew his heartbeat like it was her own. The silence of death was deafening. It’s all wrong, unnatural, horribly distressing.

She doesn’t say a word. She’s wracked by sobs and she can’t say a damn word until she feels a hand on her shoulder and that point she’s snarls and teeth and claws as she lashes out to her side. It’s Strand but she doesn’t care. She’s not moving because moving means that he’s going to put a knife in to Nick’s skull and that means she’s defeated and Alicia can’t stand it. She can’t give up.

Her eyes lock with the man’s and she looks feral, crazed. He doesn’t let go even though her lip’s raised like a wolf about to bite.

“Alicia, he’s going to turn.”

Her heart breaks again, for the millionth time in the last two minutes, and that angered expression of hers fades in to utter distress. She doesn’t know how she’s supposed to move on from this.

There’s nothing, no one left - and for the first time she truly understands what it feels like to know that there’s no good reason to hold on. She no longer blames Nick for what he’d been doing on that fateful night when she was hardly more than a child. For the first time she gets it because she’s feeling it. A piece of her died along with the last semblance of her humanity and she’s already feeling too terrible to move on.

“Then let me turn with him,” she sobs. She can’t even say the six words without choking on her own snot and tears. All she wants is to die here, side by side with him. She doesn’t want to live a life where she has nothing left to live for.

Strand doesn’t give in.

She’s pulled away kicking and screaming. She curses the man for ever even getting to lay eyes on her brother. She begs desperately just to be left here with the last piece of her home and she screams, the blood-curdling piercing shriek of someone having their loved one taking from them, as she watched a teary-eyed Luciana lean in to kiss her brother’s forehead and then plunge a knife four inches deep in to his brain.

She doesn’t sleep for days. She doesn’t eat for days. She barely even moves.

Then, as she watches the life drain out of that child’s eyes as Alicia’s hands wrap tight around her throat, she knows that she’s done. This was the last thing that she needed to do - for Nick’s sake.

The last thing she ever does is press the barrel of a gun to her skull and pull the trigger.

[favvnsongs]

alicia clark spending years and years of her childhood preparing herself for the day her brother died?? she always thought she’d be ready? resigned and pragmatic enough to be ready enough for that phone call? for that knock on the door. for finding her brother on the bathroom floor with his wrists slit.

and preparing herself for the day he’d be bitten? she didnt think -. she got too comfortable. too long of being safe. too long of nothing happening. not even a scratch.

she thought she’d be ready. she thought she’d know what itd feel like. something like matt. or travis. or jake. she thinks of all the people she knows thatve died and how she felt and it didnt feel like this. it didnt feel anything like this.

it feels like shes been shot too. it feels like shes dying too. she cant breathe. she cant fucking breathe because her brother is fucking dead. hes dead and shes alone. and it hurts.

[katelynnsmusings]

there had been so many times that she thought it was coming, but nothing compared to the real thing. no amount of preparation - no amount of hospitalizations, potential suicide attempts, or daily risks that nick was gonna die - could prepare her for the real thing.

she thought that she was used to the fact that any time they parted could be the last time but fuck. as soon as he’s in her sight again he falls to the ground and it takes her a moment to realize what’s happened. a small form vanishes in to the distance and at first she can’t control the pure rage that immediately floods her system. she wants to chase, chase until she can kill because she heard that shot and fuck, no one’s getting away with taking her brother away.

she can’t though.

she can’t because he needs her - because she needs him. because this is the last time she’s going to get to lay eyes on the most important person in her life. she has to turn around because she can’t bear to spend his last minutes away from him.

he dies in her hands. she watches his last breath leave his body. she feels his heart stop beneath her hands.

everyone is gone, but more than that now he is gone. alicia’s left with no one. luci, strand - they’ll never get it. she’ll cry for weeks, what little sleep she gets haunted by dreams of him, pieces that she will never get because she will never get to see his face again.

alicia’s left with one goal in this life: to end those that took her brother from her.

[favvnsongs]

@amarxnthine oh my god nick/alicia hugs though. like. aside from matt, his hugs are really the only ones she sinks into? and i mean, real talk, no one really hugs alicia in the first place. she always looks frozen and dead inside when her mother hugs her, but her brother? it’s like all the stress goes out of her and she just melts into it for a few seconds. because she knows shes safe. hes safe. theyre safe. and loved. 

and he always just. he holds her so fucking close. treasured and cherished and beloved. even if most of the time hes a fuck up when it comes to showing her? but he can show her then. clutches her close and kissed her head? the only two times alicia has sobbed her heart out has been with/over her brother? 

the clark kids were two halves of a whole, and now half of her is gone?? i mean, stumbling through the end of the world with the awful festering hole in her heart where her brother used to be???

luci and strand and all these strangers, she knows they can hear her crying at night? they say they understand but they dont. they cant. theyre all fucking liars. 

and then she dies. some ways down the road. as they all eventually will, she dies. and it hurts god she didnt think it would hurt this much. “like falling asleep” she read somewhere but it hurts and she wants it to stop.

and then there’s nick. there to brush her hair out of her face and murmur her name. that its okay now. she’s safe now. it’s over now. 

she’s had to be strong and brave? shes had to be stoic? shes had to be cold. she’s had to become this person that honestly fucking terrified her but nick kisses her forehead and tells her its okay. she’s okay. 

she can be weak now. she can cry now. she can cry into his shoulder again. hard cathartic snotty tears. 

and she can breathe easy afterwards. 

[katelynnsmusings]

because this initially got thrown in to the comments of one of my things and i just... it deserves attention too.

favvnsongs i mean i super duper am in love with the thought of them in the after life?? i mean can you imagine alicia dying alone and scared and in pain? everyone else is gone? leeshy loo the last one standing and shes cold and everything is dark until it isnt? until nick is there? until she hears him say her name again for the first time in months..years?? somewhere warm and kind and gentle.

she's long since given up but her body hasn't, not quite yet. there's no one left. everyone she's ever loved has died but there's one death she never got over with. as she's laying there dying she's *almost* at peace because at least it's over. she's tired and done and there's nothing left for her in this world and she just wants it to be *over with*.

there's not even anyone around to put her down after she turns. she knows, at least for a little while, her body is going to continue without her. what's it like? is there anything after it? alicia's long since given up hope that anything good can await her. she's long since given up *any* hope at all. she's just ready at this point because there's no more reason to hold on.

the fire stops and is replaced with a coldness, somehow it's harsher than hurting at all. she's afraid of what awaits her but at the same time she lost all of her reason to hold on a long time ago. she wants to cry but she has no one to cry to. there's no one to tell her it will be okay, like she's done for everyone she's loved over the years.

it's when she hears his voice that she knows she's gone, but in that moment she's okay with it. she looks up, raises her head from her huddled form and he looks like he did before he was a mess. he looks alive and healthy and though she can see a pain in his eyes (he'd wanted her to live a full, happy life - but he's watched everyone he's ever known join him so he knows damn well that she's been alone) he's still so happy to see her.

the first thing he does is tell her that everything will be okay. the second thing he does is hug her. and then, for the first time since the world ended, alicia finds her peace again.

[katelynnsmusings]

Description: You wanted Clark sibling bonding at the diamond and instead you’re getting this which is... kind of Clark sibling bonding at the diamond? Characters: Nick Clark, Alicia Clark Requester:  @favvnsongs

Nick doesn’t talk about what happened out there. All anyone knows - all his mother, Strand, his sister knows, is that he was a mess the day he was found. He doesn’t seem to be the same person that he was before and Alicia gets it because she is no longer the person she used to be either. This world changes people.

She’s bitter now. She doesn’t want to be, won’t admit it, but this world isn’t fresh any more and she has grown tired. Nick’s back but he doesn’t feel like her Nick anymore. She misses the way that he used to look at her. She misses when he looked like he was actually alive instead of this shell-shocked expression he wears nowadays. She misses his fearlessness and confidence and the way that he always seemed to know what he was doing even when he actually had no clue at all.

It’s not right, but time changes people. This world changes people. She can’t spite her brother for not changing in a world where moving forward was so important. She just wishes he would talk to her again. She wishes that he would talk to anyone because she’s not sure she’s heard more than a dozen words come out of his mouth in the last week.

When she approaches him on the stands she’s scared that she’s going to be pushed away. When she tells him that she needs her brother back she expects to be told that boy doesn’t exist any more.

He pulls her in, though - takes her by the waist and the gentle pressure of his hand against her body urges her to move in close. He hugs her and for the first time in months she starts to feel okay. “I’m sorry,” he says as her hands find his shoulders, cling so tight because she’s scared this wasn’t actually real. She leans in close, breathes deeply even though she just wants to cry. One of his hands finds her hair and urges her head in towards him; Alicia can’t help but rest her head on his shoulder. He was gentle, and two words were all she needed to start feeling the littlest bit okay again.

He kisses the top of her head and for the first time in months Alicia finally feels like someone cares about her again. She knows that she’ll have to let go of him at some point but she doesn’t dare - it feels like if she releases him he will cease to be real, like this wasn’t real in the first place.

It’s not much, he doesn’t say anything else, but for those few moments Alicia started to feel like she had a chance to get her brother back again. Maybe with time they will learn the broken pieces of each other and this time, Alicia can care for him just as Nick had tried to in the past.

[tast3of1nk]

tag yourself

[katelynnsmusings]

can we have some of nick and alicia being bored and staring at walls in the stadium? maybe having lazy afternoon heart to hearts in the sunshine?

absolutely i need infinitely more of them

[katelynnsmusings]

Description: I’m sorry. Characters: Nick Clark, Alicia Clark Notes: This is not a fix-it fic and I hate that.

He’s never feared death, he’s faced it head on time and time again, but as he watches his sister hover over him, desperate to stop the bleeding as he succumbs to shock, he’s scared about what he’s leaving behind.

All he had wanted was to do right by the people he cared about, to be a better person, to be worth the love that others gave him even though he’d used and hurt them over the years. He knows he’s never been good at much - at being a good son to his mother, at being a good boyfriend or brother but damn it he’s been trying.

Alicia - fucking sweet Alicia, forged in fire would be left with no one now. She’s lost person after person over the last two years and as he lays there it kills him to know that once again he’s disappointing her - that he’s disappointing her for the last time. He had known that his end would come, he’d accepted that long before the dead had risen, but fuck this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He’d wanted to do right by her even if it only happened once - if he’d been able to at least give Alicia that then dying would be okay.

He wants to speak but he can’t - the bullet must have hit something in his chest because his lungs feel like they’re on fire. At the same time he feels like he’s drowning, choking on copper that he can only imagine in his own blood. Alicia doesn’t stop. She holds her hand against his body but no amount of pressure is going to save him, He was slipping away and all he wanted to do was tell her that she’s right, everything will be okay.

I love you so much - he can’t do much more than think. He can barely even do that because it’s impossible not to focus on the pain. You can do it. You’ve always been able to do it. It kills me to know I’m the source of your pain again.

I’ll see you in the next life when nothing will hurt either of us ever again. Nick’s never believed in an afterlife, but as he lays there he’s hoping. Dying makes a man want to believe. He wants to be able to see his sister’s angel face again some day. He doesn’t want this to be the end, the last time he gets to lay eyes on her. He doesn’t want this to be what she remembers of him forever.

Nick knows that she’ll be able to do it without him. He knows that she’s strong, stronger than he ever has been. She has always had to be, and she would survive. None of that makes leaving her behind any easier, though.

Her cries start to fade, his vision starts to blur. He can’t even think straight enough to know that he wants to tell her he’s sorry any more. He knows the fact that it’s stopped hurting means it’s over.

The last thing he ever sees is his sister’s face, and it’s the one disappointment that he will never get the chance to apologize for.

In the darkness he finds peace for the first time in his life.

[katelynnsmusings]

im fucking... i barely wanna function after last night but if anyone wants nick clark shit in any form (preferably alive) hit up my inbox. im terrible at coming up with my own ideas.

[howlnatural]

the most fun thing about being a fic author is when you know what’s supposed to happen but when you go to write it you realise that, for the event to be plausible, you need to add another 2k of development and establish like six extra things before you can even get to the scene you need to write, and by ‘most fun’ I mean fuck everything someone take this fucking story away from me I’m on strike

[lexatluthor]

this

[bibliotecaria-d]

Fanfic Author Gothic

-You always have ideas. When you open a document, they disappear.

-You have a file full of ideas. It is lost. You open all your files and find hints of ideas mixed in between the lines. None of them connect. You follow them forever, deeper into the folders, until you can’t remember what you were looking for anymore. You end up reading fanfic until 4 AM.

-You’re not a torturer by profession. It’s merely a hobby. The sadism is a natural skill.

-Your fingers and wrists hurt from typing when you’re on a roll. You swear you’re not a masochist, but it hurts so good.

-Readers accuse you of causing them pain. You say you’re sorry, but you’re not. You comfort them while not-so-subtly digging for what caused them the most harm, eager to repeat the trick.

-Your friends enable you and laugh at your yelling. When you blame them, they claim they didn’t do anything. They never do anything. You no longer remember who started it, only that you’re halfway through the fic and still writing.

-You have a WIP. You swear you’re going to finish it next. It’s always next. There’s always another fic that has to be written first.

-Anonymous messages are sent to you, asking you not to acknowledge them publically. You know if you answer they’ll disappear from your inbox. Tumblr has eaten the Ask. Was it ever there in the first place?

-Someone comments on your fic. You have no idea who they are, but their username looks familiar. Every username looks familiar. You think you know them. They know you. It’s flattering, but you can’t shake the feeling that you should be alarmed by your poor memory.

-You reblog a writing prompt meme. It’s the same meme you reblogged yesterday. There are symbols instead of numbers, and you hope people will find them more interesting and send you more prompts this time.

-Promoting your own work is okay. You tell yourself this as you reblog yesterday’s fic post, tensely waiting for a rebuke that never comes.

-People laugh at something you wrote. You can’t figure out what. When you ask, nobody responds. They never laughed in the first place. You’re not sure you wrote anything.

-The fic is 50 hours long and 7000 words long; no one cares. A 10 minute speedwrite is reblogged into eternity.

-The kudos stack up. They are a solid block of names. You can’t read who left them. When you blink and look again, only 10 Guests have left kudos.

-Your inbox is full. There’s a comment on your fic. It has been edited 17 times. Six more emails come in as you read the initial comment. The numbers in your inbox climb and climb. You can’t find what’s been changed in the comment, but you can’t stop obsessively comparing each message.

-This comment is a book report. Glee and fear fill you in equal amounts.

-Someone apologizes for leaving a comment on an old fic. You can’t find who started the absurd rumor that authors don’t like comments on old fics. You plan their murder anyway.

-You eye your old username and associated fics. You pray that no one ever finds them. You resist the urge to tell people where to look.

-The fic is finished. You are dead. You are sick of it. You’ve never been so tired in your life. You hate the world. You force yourself to post it, absolutely exhausted, and suddenly can’t sleep for refreshing your inbox.

-The words multiply. You can’t control them. They eat your brain and come out your eyes. When people try to talk to you, you speak in snatches of character dialogue and narrate unconnected events. They keep talking to you, encouraging you to say more. The words own you now.

-No one believes you when you say the story is writing itself. You stare in despair at the screen. Why won’t anyone help you?

-You’ve misspelled ‘the.’ Autocorrect is wonderful until it’s not.

-Sleep is for the weak. You dream you’re still writing.

[thebibliosphere]

-The fic is 50 hours long and 7000 words long; no one cares. A 10 minute speedwrite is reblogged into eternity.

Hahaha, ah it’s funny because it’s true. *eyetic* what do you mean there’s blood coming out of my nose? No, no I’m fine, go right ahead. Reblog the scone post again, I don’t mind.

[celiaequus-deactivated20220130]

This is all so frighteningly true to life.  Shit.

[katelynnsmusings]

Description:  “We’re not just friends, and you know it.” Pairing: Nicky Nichols x Lorna Morello Requester: @ristaticraw

“We’re not just friends, and you know it, Lorna. I don’t get why you deny it. Friends don’t kiss like we do, fuck like we do. Friends don’t know every inch of each other’s bodies like it’s the back of their hand like we do.” There’s a wild glimmer in her eyes, like an animal caught in a trap, desperate to free itself in any way necessary. She’s grown tired, exhausted. She knows that no matter what she’s desperately in love with this crazy woman but damn it that isn’t enough - she’s tired of wondering. Wondering why she has to be second best, why Lorna can’t just give her what she wants when it’s so obvious that they feel the same way. She’s tired of being strung along like a lost, lonely little puppy in need of someone to protect and care for.

“Go on, tell me.” Nicky goads Lorna, left hand trapping the brunette between her and the concrete corner of her bunk. She slaps the wall beside Lorna’s head with an open palm. It’s an aggressive gesture and Lorna flinches, deep brown eyes going wide, even though Nicky would never lay a hand on her. She’s tired of the way that Lorna dances around her, taking advantage of the fact that she will always be there even when she doesn’t want to be. “Tell me you don’t love me. Say it and mean it. You can’t. No matter how much you try and deny it you know you feel it. Just accept it, Lorna. I know it’s not the perfect little life you live up in your head but it’s the reality you’ve got and fuck, I can’t think of one person who’d love you more than me. Better maybe, probably, I’m a fuck up too, but fuck - I’m sick of this little game you play with yourself, I’m sick of how you just want me to be there to crawl to when nothing else is working.”

She finishes ranting and she expects some kind of reaction, anything. All she wants is for Lorna to tell her that she’s not the only one who gives a fuck here ‘cause she’s convinced that she’s deluded herself in to thinking that another person could actually give a fuck about her. Fuck, what an idiot, She should have learned that young but it seemed that Nicky could never give up anything that gave her a thrill: sex, cocaine, heroin - her.

There’s no response though. Lorna doesn’t fill the silence and beg her to stop, cry on her knees about how she can’t lose Nicky. There’s no admission of love like she had wanted, just tearing brown eyes and a quivering lip and a weight in her chest that she doesn’t think will go away.

The thing about not answering? It is, in itself, an answer. Nicky didn’t need words to see what Lorna was telling her: love was not enough.

So she takes that and leaves; leaves Lorna crying on the ground, knees curled to her chest. She’s tired of being used and of being second best, and it’s obvious that Lorna’s only ever wanted one thing: to not be alone.

[katelynnsmusings]

You guys probably know by now that I’m terrible at consistently writing, but I finally got around to finishing an old request so there’s more Nichorello angst on the way.