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roniscloud · 3 years ago

Text

lhs - runnin’

lee heeseung [a. + f. 4700 words] runnin’

to you

you came up on some new

i know i shouldn’t feel blue

‘cause i was runnin’ out of time for you

synopsis: you met heeseung in your freshman year of college and immediately hit it off. you’ve made it to your third year and when everyone including yourselves thought that you were each other’s endgame, the devastation when you two split was immeasurable. you both know there’s still love between you. this break allows you both to realize new things. can you two find your ways back to each other? will this be the final goodbye?

genre + tropes: angst. fluff. comedy. college!au. establishedrelationship!au. exes!au.

warnings: fem reader. swearing. arguing. nosy friends. cold heeseung and cold reader. drifting relationship. interventions. slight suggestive themes but it’s only mentioned like once. they both pine over each other. mentions of alcohol and binge drinking. maybe not a happy ending. if you choose to see it that way. whoops. appearances of the rest of enha plus txt yeonjun and soobin.

i. the break

“so this is how it’s gonna end? i thought we were doing fine.”

heeseung erupts into an even angrier fit, “are you kidding me? we are not fucking fine. in what world is this fine? tell me!”

you scoff from where you stand cross-armed on the other side of the bedroom. “well, can you really blame me? it’s hard to see if there’s something wrong if we never see each other.”

“exactly my point! we don’t see each other.”

the two of you have been at each other’s throats since heeseung showed up at your apartment. you have no idea how long ago that was or when the argument started. all you remember is coming up to him when he arrived, wanting to actually spend some time with him. instead he shrugged you off and ignored you, blaming the fatigue. the rest has been a blur. one of you made an offhand comment and now here you are: frustrated and in another fight.

a quick recap: you two met at a mutual friend’s party. you thought that each other was attractive and he ended up asking you out. from there you kept going out, fell in love, dated, and everyone thought you were perfect together. three years later and it’s getting tiring. life has been draining trying to balance it all.

“and who’s fault is that?”

annoyed, he snaps back, “oh please, you can not put the blame solely on me.”

“bullshit. i sure can when i’m the only one making an effort here. i’ve actually been trying to save us. you, on the other hand…” you pause again, rolling your eyes, “well, we both know just how much you care.”

his jaw drops, defensively he spits back, “are you genuinely implying that i don’t care about you? about us? that’s rich.”

you move to sit on the edge of the bed, staring at a single spot on the floor. you can see the shadow of heeseing pacing back and forth. you sit there, not looking at each other. the only sounds to be heard are his footsteps and the heavy sighs from you. you think back to the last several weeks. you recall each of the times you have been able to see each other. there’s no substance, nothing memorable. the only thing that comes to mind is that you always end up not talking at all or arguing.

just like right now.

“be real, heesung. when was the last time we went on a date? when was the last time you stayed the night without it ending up with you just knocking out? when was the last time we actually sat down and had a conversation? be honest because i will. i can’t remember.”

“and yet you thought we were fine?”

“well it’s better to believe a good lie than face the hurtful truth. i’m trying to save this relationship. i’m trying all the fucking time and you don’t do shit.”

he spits back frustrated, “well maybe that’s because there’s nothing to be saved.”

“are you kidding me right now? am i supposed to be scared? you tell me that there’s nothing to be saved and expect me to just give up?”

“sorry but i’m not running from this anymore.”

“you’re not sorry and we both know it.” you push yourself back up to stand, resting your hands on your hips, “you can’t say you’re sorry and expect me to forgive you. that’s not how this works.”

“this isn’t what i wanted to happen. this isn’t how it was supposed to go.”

“then make it work.”

“i- i can’t,” he holds his hands over his face, running one through his hair, “it’s too much.”

“so what? what do you mean?”

he finally stops. he takes a deep breath and lets it all out, “i just can’t see this working anymore, at least not like this.”

ii. week one

you thought this would be more difficult. that this would be the hardest pill to swallow. the first week apart may actually be the easiest. nothing has really changed. that’s probably because you haven’t told anyone that you two are no longer together. perhaps the time that you didn’t spend with each other before the break up had trained you for this.

life goes on, with or without heeseung. that’s what you keep telling yourself. you choose to get caught up with your life. you have other priorities. it’s not a crime to focus on yourself for the first time in three years.

heeseung feels the same. he doesn’t see any point on dwelling on the breakup. sure, he was the one who made the decision. he’s the one who put it out there. he’s the one who ended it and the one who is taking responsibility.

lucky for both of you, you don’t have any courses together and your schedules don’t really coincide. there’s no chance at any awkward run-ins. there is this weird, tiny feeling though. there’s this small inkling of something missing. you both suppress it. i mean, hell, the breakup just happened.

iii. scheming

meanwhile, your friends have all seemed to notice that the two of you are off. they aren’t sure what it is. they get that you two have had some time apart, but you’re both adults with lives. you have your own classes, jobs, other friends, and such. no one mentions it because they don’t think it’s their business.

but come on… there’s no way they won’t get to the bottom of it. our resident gossips, sunoo and sunghoon, team up and make it their mission to snoop around. of course, they take precautions to not get caught. the scheming duo find out nothing, to no avail.

now the gang of the scheming duo plus jay, jake, and niki have convened in the common room of jungwon’s dorm building. the 02z are all playing billiards in one corner. sunoo battles jungwon in a game of ping pong. the youngest of the group sits by himself on one of the couches, contemplating if he should speak up. they’ve been in a heated discussion as they try to figure out what exactly has been irking them.

riki, against his own conscience, speaks up to the five. he has this gut feeling and innocently wants to voice his opinion. “what if,” the young boy start out while gauging the faces of the others, “now don’t get mad and just hear me out.” he stops again, taking his time to make eye contact with each of the older boys, waiting until they all nod, “what if… they broke up?”

the group of friends all exchange glances with each other before breaking out into laughter. jay composes himself a bit, still chuckling when he says, “seriously? you think they broke up? heeseung and y/n? yeah, no way.”

sunoo leans onto the ping pong table and eggs him on, “they are literally soulmates.”

jungwon sets his racket down and goes to plop himself next to riki on the couch, “there is no way in hell the two of them split.”

iv. breaking news

“yeah, we split.” plain and simple. three words that crushed the poor hearts of jake and jungwon. he broke the news over brunch. he sensed their curiosity when they deliberately never brought you up.

“good joke there, dude. almost had me for a second.” jake says, awkwardly with a forced laugh.

the youngest of the three chiming in and agreeing, “yeah, that’s really funny.” a silence hits the booth. “you are joking… right?”

the oldest then looks back and forth between the two, tilting his head to one side like a confused pup. he doesn’t see why they think he would joke and simply replies, “nope. you guys haven’t asked so i’m guessing you tried to snoop around and pick up on my cues. i’m also guessing sunoo’s behind this whole operation.”

“ok wait,” jake interjects, “what do you mean you broke up? you can’t just break up.”

jungwon agrees, “he’s right. you two are just playing a prank on us.”

“guys, i’m serious. y/n and i are no longer together.” the two just freeze, jaws dropped, eyes wide. “besides, it’s better this way.”

v. bad timing

meanwhile the remaining four members of their friend group have met up in the campus library in an attempted study session. so far, they’ve just gone back to gossiping and slacking off. the boys all find themselves teetering on the verge of sleep. that is until sunghoon catches you walking in. immediately going to softly pat the others back awake, they all look up confused. trying to stay subtle, hoon jerks his head to the side in your direction.

you make your way to one of the shelves, searching high and low for a book you need for your literature class. sneaking up behind you comes choi yeonjun, the library aid and a friend of yours.

“need any help?”

“no thanks, i’m good jun.” you give him a polite smile.

unbeknownst to both of you, the failure of a study group has creeped to a closer table. they knew that you two were friends but they still can’t help but eavesdrop. “will you two please shut up so we can hear them?” the annoyed face evident on sunghoon’s face at the bickering of sunoo and niki. he turns to see jay, snacking and not paying attention. he rolls his eyes at the group, his gaze then catching yeonjun leading you out of the shelves. quickly shushing the three and nodding his head in your direction again, they finally get the hint.

yeonjun steps in front of you, “so you know my friend soobin, right?”

“soobin… as in choi soobin?”

yeonjun flashes his bright smile, “that’s the one.”

“yeah i know him. we had a stats class together a while back. he definitely taught me a few tricks around a calculator.” you laugh with him, “he’s super sweet, and needless to say cute too.”

“well, am i glad to hear that! long story short, he’s kinda been crushing on you lately and wants to know if you’re free. he mentioned your shared class before but he said he never got your number.”

“since you have mine already, go ahead and give it to him. tell him i’m free whenever he is.”

yeonjun raises his eyebrows at your boldness, “will do. i just wanted to ask you first before i gave it to him because… y’know…”

“no worries, i completely understand.”

he gives a quick goodbye before going back to his desk. storming quickly, four faces appear in front of you, all a combination of confusion, shock, and anger.

sunoo starts, “um… y/n. why are you telling yeonjun to give your number to another guy?”

“yeah, are you cheating on heeseung?” his partner in crime, sunghoon, joins in.

you pause and scan their faces. your face dawns an equally as confused expression. “how can i cheat on someone who isn’t my boyfriend?”

four jaws simultaneously drop. riki’s being the first to close and answer a bit hushed, “i knew it.”

jay turns to him in disbelief, “not the time, niki!”

“did heeseung not tell you guys?” you ask them slowly. “i assumed he would be the one to let you all know.”

“that you two broke up?!” sunoo asks angrily, being shushed by yeonjun from the counter. giving an apologetic smile then tuning back into your conversation, “what do you mean you two broke up?”

“we just… broke up. that’s it. end of story. now if you’ll excuse me, i have to actually study.”

they watch you check out the book you came in for originally and walk out the doors, unsure of what to do next.

vi. the intervention

arranging your monthly movie night was not exactly the easiest task given the tensions surrounding two people in your group. so the only logical solution that they all could think of was to simply not to tell one of you that the other was coming over. a fool-proof plan.

in the dorm of the 02z, you did not expect to see heeseung when you walked in.

he gets up from his spot on the couch, “what the hell is going on here?”

“yeah, an explanation would be nice.” you cross your arms as you glare at the younger boys.

niki, trying to act as mediator gestures for both of you two sit on the loveseat—the same loveseat that was always reserved for the two of you before. “this is an intervention.”

after the confession of their intentions, everyone goes quiet. not a single word is spoken for several minutes, no one knowing how to start. after much internal contemplation, jungwon finally attempts to start. “we brought you two here today because- you know what, i can’t do this.” he stops and cuts himself off, burying his face in his hands.

sunoo sits next to him with his arms crossed. “how dare you two? our parents gets divorced and we don’t even get a notice.” it was common for them to refer to you and heeseung as the parents of the group, being the oldest. although something about sunoo still calling you by that nickname stings, him shaking his head to display his disappointment making you feel guilty.

you see heeseung out of the corner of your eye avoiding looking up to your friends. “look, i don’t see the big deal. we broke up. that happens when relationships don’t work out.”

sunghoon quickly intervenes, “how can you say it isn’t a big deal? you’re letting three years go to waste and that’s all you can say? that’s what happens.” he scoffs at how shameless you come off.

“well, would you rather us stay together even when we were unhappy?” their reactions were a mix of shouts, the words yes, of course not, and duh all blending into each other.

that’s what brought your ex boyfriend out of his daze. “y/n has a point. we broke up and it’s over. we were no longer happy and i don’t see the point in bringing it up again either. it’s in the past. let it go.” he says rather coldly and sternly. him actually saying it and acknowledging it caused that weird feeling to come back. his body language is off, too. your years together has taught you enough about heeseung to know when he’s upset, especially with himself.

jake takes his turn, looking down at his fidgeting hands and muttering sadly, “but you promised each other forever.”

that prompts you and heeseung to glance at each other quickly, making eye contact and it lingering for a couple of seconds. you look away first, not noticing that his stare doesn’t leave you.”some promises just can’t be kept.” your response then making him turn away.

“bullshit.” it’s the first word uttered by jay this entire time. “neither of you are the type to break promises.”

“some things can’t be helped,” heeseung defends.

jay, getting angrier, asks his friend, “did you know that she’s already going on a date? yeah, that guy, soobin. i’m pretty sure you know who he is. your ex,” he makes sure to stress the last word with a certain degree of annoyance, “thinks he’s cute.”

emotionless, heeseung answers back, “good for her, then.”

you were sure that you were over him, that’s why you said yes to the date. but something about him not caring leaves you feeling odd.

jungwon stops your train of thought, “no, you’re supposed to be upset. you’re supposed to get jealous and confess you still want to be with her. you’re supposed to fight for her and be together.”

another quick glance between the two of you, lasting longer than the previous one. no words are said on his end, but you know exactly what he’s trying to say. “he doesn’t have to fight when i’m the one who ended it.” you knew him. you knew he couldn’t admit to the others his decision. after all, he wants to be a good role model even in his darkest times. he couldn’t crush their idea of love and you did what you had to do. you lied for his sake—and maybe even yours.

vii. him

two months have passed since the breakup. there’s tension amongst the friend group, the six not wanting to pick sides between you and heeseung. they’re constantly going back and forth, like they’re walking on eggshells as to not bring up something that only happened with the other.

to get your mind off everything, you’ve found comfort in soobin. well, more accurately you’ve found comfort in between his sheets, or wherever you two decide for it to go down. that’s not to say the dates aren’t great. you’re not official and you both know that. your latest date, however, couldn’t help but feel weird.

the date was going pretty well. don’t get me wrong—soobin is a great guy. he’s sweet, caring, funny, and handsome. you have a lot in common like your taste in drinks and movies. maybe if you had met him first, you would’ve dated him… but you didn’t meet him first. you met heeseung first, and soobin isn’t heeseung.

you found yourself drifting from the conversation now and then, thinking about how heeseung would’ve been at that moment. you think back to his habits, particularly the way he raises his eyebrows whenever he’s excited or talking about something he’s passionate about. you always found it endearing. over the course of dinner, you are able to notice that soobin has some cute habits too, like him covering his face when he gets shy or puffing out his cheeks. but it still isn’t the same.

“you two deserve each other.”

soobin catches your attention again with that comment. “what?”

“you and heeseung. i know that look. don’t try to lie to me.”

“look, heeseung is my past, and i want it to stay that way.”

“do you really want it to stay that way, or are you just afraid of what could happen if you let him back into your present?”

you give him a teasing glare, “don’t get all philosophical with me. i just don’t think he and i can go back to how we were before.”

“what’s so bad about you two changing? obviously if it didn’t work out, you shouldn’t try to be what you were before.”

“can’t i just try with you?”

“as much as i would love for you to give me that chance, i can’t do that to you or to myself. it’s not fair.”

you hesitantly ask him, “but is it worth it?”

“that’s not my decision to make.”

viii. her

now that you’re virtually not in his life, he seems to be looking for you everywhere. actually… rather than going out of his way to look for you, everything just reminds him of you. the jingles of the commercials you always sang along to, your favorite songs on the radio, the reruns of 90’s shows you always binged. hell, even when he was making ramen, he was reminded of how you would make his favorite for him every time he was stressed over an exam. he was sitting in the back of the lecture hall, trying so hard to stay awake for his 3 hour long class with the most boring professor on campus. he fought the urge to text you since it felt like second nature to rely on you to help cheer him up.

there was a particular night when it really hit him. reality smacked him in the face late one evening. heeseung was bored out of his mind, laying alone in bed, aimlessly browsing netflix to find something to watch. he thinks to himself y/n would’ve slammed this laptop closed and talked all night about random and obscure topics. he laughs to himself, reliving the memories. right then, it’s obvious. he misses her.

ix. promises

the rain hitting your bedroom window had no help on your already gloomy mood. what did help was the bottle of soju- well more realistically, four bottles of soju. it was all the liquid courage you needed to call heeseung at three in the morning.

you sat drowsily on the rug of your living room, your phone on speaker and placed in front of you as you stared out the dewy glass. you heard the phone ring seven times, ready to hang up until you heard his groggy voice come out from the other end. “hello? y/n, why are you up?”

you laugh softly and ask him, sounding loopy, “why are you up?”

“because you’re calling me. would you like to give me a reason why, and are you drunk?”

“maybe. anyways, you know… i was thinking. we broke a lot of promises and it hurts. i have to know that we’re not bad people. i have to keep at least one, right?”

heeseung groans but lets you ramble, knowing that you won’t stop until you’ve said it all, “go on…”

“we made a promise that if something was going on, if we were in a dark place, that we would talk to someone. well, if you couldn’t tell by now, i’m not in the best place. the first person i thought to talk to was you.”

“why me?”

“shhh… don’t ask questions. i know you’re tired so just stay on the phone and let me talk. ok?”

he goes quiet for a bit, sighing, “ok.”

“i miss you. i do. i don’t expect you to miss me but i just want to say it,” pausing to hiccup, “soobin helped me realize some things, saying some crap like we deserve each other.” you chuckle as you recall his words, “maybe he said it because bad people deserve bad people. maybe he said it because in our own fucked up lives, we’re the only ones who can understand each other. i did a lot of thinking and i’ve come to the conclusion that we don’t. because if we stay together, we can’t move on. we can’t grow. we can’t become good people, no matter how much we want it. that’s life. sometimes, no matter how much we want something, no matter how much we wish on stars or pray, some things just aren’t meant to be.”

“y/n, get some rest…”

“wait, i’m not done. you already can tell i’ve been drinking and to be honest i have been, for a while. i do it,” starting to choke up and sniffle, “because it helps me forget. even if it’s just for a minute that i can forget what happened, i’ll drink as much as it takes. i’ll grow out of it, eventually. i know i will, but for now… i have to do what i have to do. i’m sure you can relate.” you laugh again, getting more drowsy. you bring your legs up, hugging your knees. faintly, the sounds of heeseung’s snores play from your phone. you smile to yourself, “i wish you were here, singing me a lullaby. i don’t know when you fell asleep but goodnight. take care of yourself.”

cuddled up in his bed, heeseung hears you hang up. he lets you believe he didn’t hear what you said. he knows the reality of it all and the weight that you both are carrying. knowing that you won’t check your phone for the rest of the night, he sends you a quick text: bookstore, saturday, noon. goodnight.

as he turns off his phone to try to fall back asleep, he sees his reflection in the black screen. he sees his puffy, red eyes and his tear-stained cheeks. the end of it all is coming and finally, you two are ready for it.

x. love song

seeing him in person is a good idea. clearing the air, letting it all out, getting closure. all good ideas, you hope. walking into the bookstore was a weird feeling. when you spot him sitting by the window, you quietly make your way over. he looks up at your new presence, his feet shuffling out of nervousness. you notice the glass of pear juice on the small coffee table in front of him, already half empty.

“hi,” he says like a whisper.

“hi,” you awkwardly respond. it’s unlike the two of you to not know how to start a conversation. you make your way onto the cushioned seat, letting yourself get comfortable to help ease the tension. you each avoid the other’s gaze, not knowing how to begin. you sigh and finally ask, “how have you been?”

“busy,” he says as he nods, “finally took up actual music lessons. thought it would be better to have someone who’s played piano and guitar professionally instead of trying to teach myself.”

you softly giggle, “that’s good. you’ve always loved music.”

“yeah… how about you?”

“same, busy. i got the t.a position i applied for like forever ago.”

“congrats! you still looking to become a teacher?”

“well, generally yeah. i was having my doubts before but i just fell back into it. finally being able to be there, present, and guiding others… that’s what i want.” you sit there across from him, watching him and taking it all in. the man in front of you is heeseung, but not the heeseung you knew. no, this is the better version of him. the version of him where he can focus on himself. the version of heeseung that’s glowing and happy and ready to take on the world. “so, look. there’s no easy or delicate way to put it but i think there are things we both need to get off our chests.”

“agreed. since it all happened—the fights, the breakups, the ambush interventions—we haven’t actually talked.”

“those interventions… they were silly but the guys did help me realize some things. we’re growing up. sure, i thought we had this plan of us graduating, getting married, having a family, settling down, growing old. we both wanted that type of life. sadly, it’s not what happened and we have to live with it.”

he lets out a chuckle, “heeseung and y/n: meant for each other and meant to be.”

“but not meant to last. what a bittersweet and poetic ending."

“it’s like people always say: right person, wrong time.”

“you know… you used to tell me that our love song was the soundtrack to the best life you could live.” you reach out and take his hand in yours, “i just,” pausing to take a deep breath and compose yourself, “i just want you to know… that if anything happens-”

he cuts you off with a quiet gasp, whispering your name with a shaky voice, “don’t.”

you shake your head and gently squeeze his hand, “if anything happens… if in the end, we don’t find our way back and it isn’t us, don’t think we ended on a bad note.” you drop your head as you chuckle lightly before continuing, “cause you were always on key.” you give him a small grin, trying your hardest to not make things worse by crying. “we were just playing different tunes.”

he pulls you in closer to him, placing his hands softly on your cheeks. “i always hated seeing you cry,” he says as he wipes away the tears on your face, not bothering about his own. he wraps his arms around you, holding you close for the last time.

you stay there in his warmth, hearing him sniffle as he tries to hold back the falling tears. when you pull away, you tell him “i will always love you. maybe not in the way i thought i would but it’s still there.”

“maybe in our next life, it’ll be the right time.” with that, he leaves a kiss on your forehead, leaves the bookstore, and leaves your life. your duet that worked in perfect harmony now playing a beautiful cadence—two wandering artists, free to fill your own wretched worlds with new melodies, the bliss and tranquility of it all. the hope that maybe one day, you’ll be in each other’s lives again is enough.

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jeonfiles · 4 years ago

Text

better left unsaid - jjk

genre: angst, rebounds

pairings: jungkook x reader (ft. namjoon)

warnings: arguing, alcohol, profanity, break ups, light smut, use of drugs, jungkook is a fucking dick, jungkook has major attachment issues, toxic relationships, oc cries a lot, namjoon has a heart of gold, unrequited love

synopsis: you knew you shouldnt have given him that second chance, not the third or the fourth either. no matter how much you try he always slithers his way underneath your sheets, arms wrapped around you.

word count: 2.7k

music: into your arms, so it ends?, you will fade, thinkin bout you, julia, my insecurities not yours, fuck u, goodluck, my dear i will think of you

note: uhh ive never written a y/n fic so bare with me, if u listen to the music you’ll be able to feel the story a lot more so yeah if u have time u should, not proof read

Light coming through the cracks of the blinds, making you squint your eyes when the daylight beams into your eyes, head resting on the kitchen island Looking up, you saw the clock ticking on the wall, 11:32 am.

You had stayed up till 5 am, waiting for him to come home, but seemingly, he never did. Reaching for your phone, you saw 4 missed calls from the one and only,

Jeon Jungkook, saved in your phone as “Koo <3″, Rows of messages too, all from the same contact.

Koo <3 [05:34 am]

baby pkck me up pleseee

im so wsated

Koo <3 [06.46am]

dont be mad at me jsut pick me up

i dont knw hewere the fuck i am

i love you

Koo <3 [07:31 am]

i got a rde home i’ll be home by 12

i need to talk to someone frsit

im sorry if i woke ypu dont be worried

You took a few moments to collect your thoughts, but there wasn’t much to collect. This whole thing, was a routine by now.

Standing up to make yourself a cup of coffee, you could literally not feel your own backside, you were so sore from the barstool you had been sitting on all night, and it made you groan in pain.

Two coffee cups right beside the kitchen sink, which you couldn’t bring yourself to clean up, because it was from the last time you had coffee together, which was 2 weeks ago.

The inside of the cup had a coffee crust at the top, and both your lip tint marks on the outside.

When you finish your cup of coffee while watching a bad telenovela, you go sit in your favorite chair and pull out a few books from the backpack hanging on the chair next to you, getting ready to get some studying done.

For a few seconds you imagine Jungkook hanging over your shoulder laughing at the way you write your A-s and R-s, or the way you always sign your homework at the bottom of the page.

And when you open them, there’s no one there. The only sound is from the refrigerator, making refrigerator noises.

You had met Jungkook 3 years ago, when you were at college orientation, senior year of high school. He also wanted to attend Yonsei, just like you.

And when he whispered to you about how bored he was, you couldn’t help but giggle, and then you got yelled at.

It was worth it though, because everyone was jealous of you afterwards,the Jeon Jungkook had talked to you.

Jungkook was an all-rounder as they called it; great physique, intelligent, charismatic and great at sports.

And god, he had a beautiful face, and such a filthy mouth, and it didn’t go long before you gave in to his seductive ways and slept with him. The morning after, he wasn’t in bed with you, and your heart sank.

Luckily, he was in the kitchen making you breakfast.

It was all bliss from there, showering you with love, gifts and kisses for two years, and you even ended up moving in together.

And now? You barely remember what he sounds like, smells like and is like.

A distant memory, just as distant as him.

Your train of thought was suddenly interrupted as you heard 3 knocks on your door. The exact same way he had always knocked when he had forgotten (or lost) his keys.

And even though you should have let him suffer a little, you rushed to the door to open it, and in front of you, was your biggest nightmare.

It was your love, crying his eyes out, bleeding from one of many cuts on his face, looking nearly dead. He collapsed into your arms, and you could only utter a few words, along the lines of:

“How could you do this to us?”

As he was laying curled up in a ball on the couch, face plastered up, ice bag on his knee, wrapped up in a blanket, you realized. this was your que to cry.

So, you did. You cried in silence, sitting across the room from him. You weren’t mad at him for coming home late, or getting in another fight, probably the 5th just these past months, you had gotten used to that by now.

There was a whole other reason that made you cry.

He smelled like Victorias Secret Bombshell, you recognized the scent because it used to be your favorite, however, now you’ve moved onto something less sweet, and more elegant, like Caroline Herrera.

He smelled like someone who wasn’t you, his girlfriend.

He smelled like another girl.

It didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. Maybe because the Jungkook that had come home to you that morning wasn’t your Jungkook.

Your Jungkook was varsity jackets, star of the american football team (which your school was known for), selfless and humorous, and he would always take care of you.

Your Jungkook was not ungroomed hair, cigarettes and worsening grades. He was not cold and lifeless, and he would never make you cry.

Despite this, you were carding your fingers though his hair, thumb wiping away the blood on his lips while he was sound asleep as you slowly fell asleep next to him.

Maybe it was time to let him go.

Maybe.

You woke a few hours later from your phone vibrating.

Kim Namjoon (school) [07:01 pm]

Hey Y/N! Have you started working on the statistics assignment?

If you haven’t, would you be interested in meeting at the library tomorrow? You’re really smart and i’m kinda struggling ://

You [07:03 pm]

i finished it yesterday, but if you buy me coffee i’ll come help you hehe

Kim Namjoon (school) [07:04 pm]

You’re the best, I’ll bring you a machiatto!! :D

Maybe it would be nice for you to get out of the house, even though you hate the thought of it, and you would much rather just swim in your own sorrow.

But you did go out the next day, and you helped Namjoon get a decent grade, enough to pass with good margines, he thanked you by taking you out for ramen at a convenial store not too far away.

You thanked him for the ramen with a trip to the museum, and he thanked you for the museum trip with a picnic in the park at night, which led you to crying over Jungkook in his embrace, telling him every single little detail.

He made you realize it was time to let Jungkook go and make room for new people to enter your life.

You went home that night, and you found Jungkook passed out on the couch, and you could genuienly feel your chest tighten. Soft features which stood out under the moonlight glow, disheveled brown locks which hung down in his eyes.

He was gorgeous, until you saw the credit card on the table next to three bottles of soju and an empty beer can on the floor. And you knew what he had used the credit card for, though you didn’t want to say it out loud.

You cleaned everything up, and you threw the residue of the white powder right in the trash can, and you recycled his bottles and cans before finally, nudging him to wake up.

“Jungkook, wake up.” You spat coldly, or at least you attempted to.

He groaned, rubbing his eyes before opening his eyes, and s huge smile on his face. “Y/N, you’re home!” He reached to kiss you, but you backed away.

“Y/N?” Jungkook questioned, he didn’t quite understand what your intentions were.

“Don’t try anything Jungkook. This was your last chance, and you fucked it up, again.” The room turned ice cold. “I’m getting you help Jungkook, you need help. And then...”

He understood what kind of help you meant, and since he had now sobered up, he agreed, nodding. “And then...?”

“And then.” Your words were ludged in your throat. “And then I’m leaving you.”

His whole face dropped, smile turned into the frowniest frown you had ever seen, and it was all silent before his lower lip starts trembling, and his eyes start turning glassy.

“It’s alright. Sorry for burdening you.” Was all he could say before tears rushed down his cheeks, and he started shaking.

So you did what you always had done, and you wrapped your arms around him, head resting on your chest as he sobbed.

“Is there anyone else?” he cried out before another wave of sobs hit him.

This exact question made your stomach hurt, and your throat burn. You really had no idea.

Or you did, but you didn’t want to.

You loved Jungkook so much, but you couldn’t be with him in this state. So you did what every rational person would do in this situation.

“Yeah.”

You lied.

“Oh ok. I don’t have the right to be mad do I?”

You shake your head no.

“I love you Y/N. I’m sorry I’m so messed up.”

“It’s ok.” was all he said before he fell asleep in your arms again.

That night you slither your way out of his embrace and you pack your suitcase in the dark, bringing all your essentials, trying to be as quiet as possible so you didn’t wake Jungkook.

Packing enough for two weeks or so, you make the bed and leave your t-shirt “accidentally” in the bathroom, and you make sure all his clothes are folded, and then you sort his pencil case, throwing out old pens and worn out erasers.

You leave a grocery list on the counter, and you tuck him in good under the blankets after you took his jeans and socks off so he could sleep comfortably.

You placed his vitamins and medicine by the refrigerator so he’ll see it when he goes to grab something to eat.

Puffed up pillows, a pair of sweatpants, t-shirt and underwear is now placed neatly on his bed. Then you walk into the kitchen again, and you see Jungkook still sound asleep, sniffling a little still.

There’s one last thing, and it makes you cry. It makes you sob so loud you cover your mouth and muffle the sound you make. Sinking to the floor, your whole body is in contact with the cold tiles.

Only a year ago you could never imagine yourself even shedding a single tear over something as small as this, but here you were, on the edge of a panic attack.

Two worn out, matching couple mugs still placed by the counter. one if the first things you two had bought together, as well as the necklace hanging around your neck.

Finally, you stopped crying and started cleaning the mugs, lip trembling as you dried them and placed them in the back of the cabinet.

You unhooked your necklace and laid it down on the counter, and the biggest lump formed in your throat.

Actually, there’s a little detail you forget.

You kiss Jungkook on the forehead and leave a note on the coffee table.

“Dear Jungkook,

If you want to make this up to me (this does not mean a new chance!!) you call the number at the bottom of the page. No matter what happens, I’ll always have room for you in my heart. You even have your own little VIP lobby in there. And - if it’s urgent, call. I still care for you, and I always have. You were the best boyfriend I’ve had, but good things always come to and end, don’t they? Anyways, I’m tired so this letter fucking sucks, but deep down you know how much I love you. Remember to get groceries, shower, get fresh air and study. If I forgot something you can keep it, as long as you call the number and tell them you’re my friend. They’ll help you love. Try and get a part time job too, your student loan and your dad’s money won’t last forever. Good luck Koo. Hwaiting!!

-L/N Y/N <33″

You cringe when you think of the letter’s contents, before you roll out your suitcase out of the front door, whispering a faint “Goodnight Love.” as you close and lock the door behind you.

Standing by the elevator, you cry again. This time, louder, but you still reach for your phone and type out a text to the newly edited contact in your phone.

You [02:13 am]

coming outside now, im a crying mess and im super cold, is your car heated?

sorry for making you wait btw :((

Joonie <3 [02:13 am]

dont worry about the crying part, i’ll hold you. and yeah car is heated, so waiting here wasnt all that bad. you ready for this?

You [02:14 am]

i have no idea but i cant stay here any longer and i trust you sooo

lets start our new chapter. eh?

4 months later...

He had been good to you, great even.

You had been on expensive dates, picnics, had heart to heart conversations, and he’d been so understanding.

Today, it was your 2 month anniversary, and he had asked you on a magnificent date, which he had planned every second of.

At the end of the day, you told him how you don’t love him. He said it was alright. Namjoon loved you, so much, yet he understood you needed time.

You went to sleep that day, warm in Namjoon’s embrace, wondering how Jungkook was doing.

You felt bad, but you missed Jungkook.

You were both with someone new now, and you knew he was in good hands with someone stable enough to care for him.

Before your eyes closed shut, you shed a few quiet tears and hoped that you’d fall in love with Namjoon soon, and deep down you knew you would.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #namjoon smut #jungkook ff #bts ff #bts imagines #bts scenarios #namjoon ff #bangtan smut #jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jeongguk ff

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actualsunflower · 4 years ago

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I have a huge life update to share rn--- My top surgery consultation is scheduled for July 5th!!!! I’M SO EXCITEDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!! I’ve also been vaccinated!! :D ANNNDDD MY LEGAL NAME AND SEX HAVE BEEN CHANGEDD!!!!! :DDDD kind of a lot has happened since I’ve been actually active around here But now I guess is the much harder part, my official surgery date will be set at the consultation, but there’s a required $1,000 fee to set the official date for my surgery. The $1,000 covers a portion of the surgery as well, and the base price for the surgery is $8,500. I’ll get the exact price on July 5th, but that’s their base rate. I need to earn or raise at least $1,000 of the total cost before July 5th to secure my surgery date!! I’m going to take commissions when I can, I have 1 almost entirely complete right now and then I can take on more! I’m gonna have a more detailed explanation of everything under the cut so this isnt super super long so pls read under there if you want all the deets Pls consider commissioning me or donating so I can get top surgery!! read more for more info and me being sappy abt my emotions--

I’ve waited so long for this and I’m fricken excited, it’s the last step in transitioning for me! It really means everything for me, I feel like I’ve been waiting forever and I can’t believe it’s finally happening !?!!! I am forever in everyones debt here and everywhere because I never wouldve even been able to start hrt if it wasn’t for the help here. I’m just so. Overwhelmed with emotion and gratitude I cant even tell how many times Ive cried and just felt like... actual gender euphoria since starting t..

So abt the appointment, I’m getting surgery with Dr. Javad Sajan, and I’m getting button hole double incision. Im serious his before and after pictures make me so emotional I am so happy and emotional for those people and I cannot wait to feel that kind of happiness and relief. But a big problem about this for me, is that he is in Seattle, and I live in southern Oregon. I can’t drive, so I have to rely on someone else, or take the train from a nearby city (Eugene). My consultation is over skype (which is amazing and a huge relief), but my pre-op appointment is in person, and of course so is the actual surgery. We’re planning on taking the train from Eugene because it seems to be the most reliable way to get there and back each time. Aside from my surgery, I’ve got to cover the price of the trip there and back (twice, once there and back for pre-op, once there and back post op,) and the price of a place to stay during the pre-op appointment. Right now my goal cost wise, is just the booking and base appointment price ($8,500, that’s including the $1,000 appointment setting deposit, which is just a part of the surgery cost and the base covers everything, surgery, the stay at the hospital, nips, anesthesia, everything). The full price is due at the pre-op appointment, and that’s the final bill. My insurance doesn’t cover anything because it’s out of state and county, and because its informed consent model. (which Im choosing because Id have to battle insurance for 2 years minimum if I was getting the surgery in Oregon, but I am very set on my surgeon after considering everything and calling many offices and looking through many subreddits and talking to ppl who’ve gotten it here and there) A lot of this information is on their site as well. As soon as I have my consultation, I will be right here to update everything and set the exact price, which I’ll also be including the price of transportation and staying there. As for paying, I’ve been applying to so many jobs, and even when I get interviews I never hear back from them. People keep telling me to stop admitting I’m disabled but I just can’t do that. Lying about being disabled doesnt make me abled and they don’t get that. I’m still trying though, and I am not going to stop trying until I get a job. But until then commissions and donations are my only source of income. I’ve been struggling getting help psychologically, because I have schizophrenia, and because I was diagnosed with adhd as a child, but I think I’m actually autistic rather than having adhd, and it’s been really hard trying to get diagnosed because I keep getting pushed off or told I cant have autism because I have paranoid schizophrenia or because its “just adhd”, but the medications are just making everything worse, and Ive tried more than one already. My medications for schizophrenia have started not working right, and when my schizophrenia meds get under control, it makes my adhd (?) significantly worse. Genuinely, I really dont know what’s happening. I really dont know whats going on with me right now and it’s hard and confusing and I keep swinging back and forth and it’s making everything deteriorate so fast I cant keep up with it. It seriously effects my ability to do anything at all, even art, and its been like this for the last 6 months. I am trying though, still trying to work, still trying to get a job, still trying to get a real diagnosis and help and Im not going to stop any of that. But I think getting top surgery as soon as possible is going to help me too, because dysphoria has just gotten so much worse focusing on my chest since t has started helping me pass and look so much more masculine. It’s like all my attention went from everything DIRECTLY to my chest and its almost unbearable. Even now since my sex has been legally changed I keep having the horrible thoughts of ‘why, why I am a man Im not supposed to be this way’ and shit idk. I’m getting too serious right now I have an appointment with the dmv to get a new updated driver’s permit with my name and fixed legal sex, and when I do that I can set up a bank account (I cant yet bcs I dont have a valid id/ id at all because I actually lost the other one and have been carrying around that paper one you’re supposed to destroy that is literally from 2016) and when I do, I’m going to set up a proper gofundme for my surgery and the travel expenses, but for now all I have is my paypal and online banking savings account. I’ll get that up asap once I have my id, though (Ive already been to the bank with my notarized judge passed papers and they wont take those yeah I know it’s stupid its like the same thing) But uhhh yeah! Thank you for reading this far if you did lol and considering helping me bcs my god, it literally means everything to me. pls share hehe

#commission info #donation post #i know it seems like all i do is cry about needing money #but my god. bitches really do be needing money #its me im bitches #top surgery fund #help yer local transmasc flower #pls

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aerialflight · 4 years ago

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Fic Recs (cause it's always nice to give a shout out and get people into things I'm into rn)

[The Magnus Archives] (I recently finished the podcast and I fell into a hole for a while so here you go)

Sing a Song of Sixpence by Kaiel

Ship: Jon/Martin

In which Jonathan Sims is a Siren, and he fails to notice any new abilities granted to him by the position of Archivist. Or really anything about the Entities at all.

Takes place in season 1 featuring Jonah Magnus’s slow decent into madness

(The new mythology interwoven with tma's worldbuilding is so freaking good and I love how all the characters change and develop because of these changes. Also, f you Elias)

Along Came a Spider by Dribbledscribbles

Ship: implied Jon/Martin

Sasha James is the Archivist, as expected. Martin Blackwood is menaced by Jane Prentiss, as expected. Elias Bouchard weaves his web, as expected.

All goes as it should.

At least until something calling itself Jonathan Sims steps in.

(Web!Jon in this makes me want to weep, it's so freaking good. A pretty long, very excellent oneshot on what could've happened if Jon got taken by the web when he was a kid. And Sasha as the Archivist is ALWAYS so cool, we love her in this house.)

A Break in the Clouds by Ash_Rabbit

“I’m eight.” the kid sniffs as if eight was any different from four, maybe not an unspeakable horror then, just a regular horror. “And I heard that the Magnus Institute deals with-” his little nose scrunches, cute. “-spooky things.”

“Do you have a-” he cracks a grin, and then rethinks it as small hands tighten against their burden.”-spooky thing to deliver?” gods he hopes not, it’s bad enough when adults walk in and lay out all of their baggage, but for a child-

“There’s a spider in this book.” the kid says solemnly, raising his textbook sized parcel. “It ate Evan Pritchard.” a bloody fucking Leitner. Of course an eight year old would find a murder spider book. “This seemed like the best place to bring it.”

(I never thought about what the Original Elias could've been like AND NOW I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT BECAUSE OF THIS FIC. I LOVE HIM, HE'S COMPLEX AND HE CARES AND JON CARES AND THEY BOTH CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER. THIS IS THE CONTENT I WANT, OMG. Also, Jon being even smaller than usual is adorable, so cute. No wonder Elias wants to hug him, a LOT.)

See the Line where the Sky meets the Sea by The_Floating_World

Ship: Jon/Martin, Jon/Oliver Banks

When Jon is a child he looks into the infinite abyss of space. The Vast looks back into him.

(One of my all time fave fics in this fandom, no questions asked. I have reread this three times and am open to doing it again, god. Vast!Jon, such a concept. It's written so beautifully and the relationships Jon develops, so good. ugh. My heart. Please please read.)

Sweet As Roses by Prim_the_Amazing

Ship: Jon/Martin

“Come in, Martin,” he says, not looking up from his notes.

“Hi, Jon,” he says, and Jon stops writing at the sound of his voice. “We’re out of the green tea, but we’ve got lemon?”

Jon looks at him. Martin smiles at him in his usual tentative way as he sets the mug of tea down on Jon’s desk. Heat spikes so sharply in his gut that he twitches with it.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says, mouth dry, and he stands up.

“Oh,” he says, sounding almost surprised. He smiles again. “No-- no problem-- um, what are you--”

Jon takes Martin by the shoulders, leans up on the tips of his toes, and kisses him.

(You have no idea how much I howled through this fic, my god. *buries face in hands* The number of times I wanted to cry from sheer hilarity and horror reading this good lord.)

Things Could Always Be Worse by theOestofOCs

Ship: Jon/Martin, Georgie/Melanie

Sometimes, the most horrifying thing of all is what might have been.

Somewhere, Jon could swear he heard a crowd laughing.

Or: in which Jonathan Sims is forced to swap places with his alternate self—a tall, chivalrous hero extraordinaire, who knows neither fear nor nuance—and is sent to the aggressively straight alternate universe the Magnus Archives was never meant to be.

“Whatever place this is,” Jon announced, “I just want to be sure it knows I hate it.”

(I will say this once, THIS IS THE MOST CURSED THING IVE EVER READ EVER. Like holy hell. I can't believe this thing exists. please read it oh please please please)

[Supernatural]

heard from your mother (she don't recognize you) by Schmuzz

Ship: Dean/Cas, Jessica/Sam

A man named Cas wakes up in 2003 with no memories, but he's able to piece together a few things:

1. Supernatural creatures exist, and most of them will hurt innocent civilians if he doesn't stop them; 2. He has abilities that no human hunter should have, but he knows enough about human hunters to keep that to himself, and finally; 3. He keeps running into another hunter named Dean Winchester, who seems to be about as lonely as he is if he's willing to put up with those former facts long enough to help Cas unravel the mystery of who (or what) he really is.

For his part, Dean's still (not) dealing with Sam's departure to Stanford, and figures distracting himself with a bit of mystery and intrigue is as harmless as it gets, right? Right.

(THE fic I'm most into right now, been following this from the very start and it's AMAZING. Cas has agency and is making friends and S1 Dean is growing out of John's influence and is becoming a Person and the both of them first being friends then more. The slow burn as their relationship develops, SO GOOD. SO SO DAMN GOOD. *screams* Seriously one of the best spn fics I've read in a long, long time.)

anamnesis by cenotaphy

Ships: Castiel/Dean, Sam/Eileen

Chuck is depowered, Jack is the new god, and the world is free. Dean and Sam get into the Impala and chase down the miles on an endless highway, and their story is finally, finally their own to follow. At least, that's what Dean tells himself. But the diners and motels and painted interstate lines are blurring together and the smallest details keep catching at his brain like tiny fishhooks and he can't quite shake the feeling that not everything is exactly as it should be.

* Fix-it/alternate series finale. Canon-compliant through the end of 15.19.

(THIS IS THE FIC THAT GOT ME THROUGH THE FINALE OKAY. WHY COULDN'T THIS HAVE BEEN CANON. It's Disturbing and honestly plot-wise this makes more sense. Why couldn't we have had this. *screams*)

[Avatar: The Last Airbender]

where the stars do not take sides by WitchofEndor

Ship: Sokka/Zuko

When Azula is nine, she becomes an only child. She hears the Fire Lord call for Zuko's life, and in the morning, her mother and brother are gone. Azula may be young, but she isn't naive. She knows what happened to them.

Which makes it all the more surprising when Azula tracks the Avatar down and fights his group of peasant friends, only to find herself staring into an eerily familiar face.

(The fact one of the tags in this fic is, "Sibling Dynamic: Fucked Up But Wholesome" should give you an idea what this fic is like. Chaotic as HELL and I just love Azula here, she loves Zuko so much in her messed up way and Zuko loves her back in the exact same way lol. It's batshit and I am Here For This.)

[Naruto]

Eclipse by AislingRoisin (JayBird345) for HybrisAnaideia

Ship: Nara Shikaku/OFC

"In life, it's easier to remain stagnant and wallow in your troubles. But life isn't merely about continued existence, nor is it meant to be gone through alone."

(This is a fic that's slept on and I NEED people to read this. A self-insert fic that I find really interesting in its approach and the worldbuilding for the post-third war shinobi world is fantastic. I feel like there's a certain pattern with self-insert fics, not that is a detriment in any way to how much I enjoy them, so this fic feels fresh to me in a way I haven't read in a while. I am waiting eagerly for this to get updated! Please read!)

On Freedom and Other Formalities by iaso

Ship: Kakashi/Genma/OFC

When push comes to shove, Hiwa Inuzuka doesn't go down easy. Reborn into a new, dangerous world? She puts her past life as a spy to work. Thrown into a war? Hiwa does her duty, for Konoha. And when she's forced into an arranged marriage? All there is to do is beat them to the punch and get married first. Thankfully, Genma Shiranui is willing to lend a hand. Literally. SI/OC

(Listen, LISTEN, it's about the slow burn, the longing, the communication (it both has and hasn't and isn't THAT great??), the messy way you fit three very different people together, it's so freaking good! Also, Kakashi is so Chaotic here this is my fave characterization of him, you can't change my mind. And Genma is a Good Boi who is Doing His Best, along with the Self-insert character who I LOVE SO MUCH, SHE'S FANTASTIC FNEIWOPAF. Sped past this fic in the speed of light, I could not stop reading!)(Honestly, read all of the author's fics, they're all really REALLY good!)

Building a Castle by WhisperingDarkness

Without needing anyone to tell her, Sakura knew that talking to someone no-one else could see or hear would make her weird. It would draw the bad kind of attention to her, something people could make fun of her for.

She didn’t like being weird, but she did like the voice. Her inner voice was helpful and it was a part of her that had always been there. The idea of it not being there would have been so much weirder than anything else.

It was during her first year at the Academy that Sakura realised the voice was not in her head at all, but that it came from a cloudy shape floating next to her.

(Basically a short-ish retelling of Hikaru no Go. Only with more Shogi and Nara and Ninja's)

(Sakura can see ghosts (I'm noticing this is a popular trope for her) and it's really cute haha! Her relationship with Tobirama is sweet and I just enjoyed reading this so much.)

[The Magicians]

So Long (And Thanks For All The Books) by IncompleteSentanc (Erava)

Ships: Quentin/Eliot, James/Julia, Quentin/Margo/Eliot

When Quentin is told Julia wasn't admitted to Brakebills, he realizes he has a drastic decision in front of him. If he tells Julia about magic, he'll have his mind wiped as well as hers. But he can't just leave her behind, either. He can't lose his best friend, and he can't let her life a life with her magical potential stolen away from her.

So he makes a third choice.

(Really, and I mean REALLY well-done canon divergent fic, this is the Quentin & Julia friendship fic I have been looking for forever. It explores so much of what could've happened and I just love Quentin here, I really really do. Characterization done so right. I also recommend the author's other works too. Been a follower of them for a long time, they're great.)

[Game of Thrones]

The Road to Victory by writing_as_tracey

Too late in preparing for the Night King and the Long Night, the last stand at Winterfell is close to falling. Bran takes desperate measures to ensure victory, and Jon, Sansa, and Arya pay the price for it in a time unfamiliar to them, on the cusp of another war. [GoT, time-travel fix it]

(I swear, this fic made me laugh so many times, all the Stark are BAMF and fantastic, and Rhaegar gets Wrecked lol. It's crack btw, and the plot goes in directions you'll never guess and it's amazing hahaha!)

[Haikyuu!!] (I am very very late to the fandom but here I am)

Ballare (To Dance) by MidnightSparks

Ship: Iwaizumi Hajime/Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, and platonic Kageyama & Kentarou (really love their friendship)

Kageyama’s first love is volleyball. His second, however, is ballet.

In one world, Kageyama Tobio is left behind by his parents. In this world, the existence of soulbonds keeps Kageyama’s parents in Miyagi and leaves Kageyama in the care of his grandma and grandpa.

(In which soulmates exist and that changes everything and nothing at the same time.)

(*buries face in hands* I have fallen for this ship so hard and I can't get out fudge me. I understand now. Their DYNAMICS FIEWONPAF)

Kings of Tomorrow by bokubroya (liarielle)

Ship: Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru

On the eve of Tobio’s 16th birthday, he counts down the seconds to midnight, and emerges with Oikawa Tooru’s name on his wrist.

It’s been two years since then, and Tobio thought they had an understanding. A silent, never spoken about understanding that this thing between them is nothing, and they’re going to pretend it doesn’t exist.

Of course, it’s just like Oikawa to change the game and leave Tobio wondering what comes next.

(I am WEAK for soulmate fics between these two, I don't even really like soulmate fics half the times what is WRONG WITH ME-)(Please suffer with me, I'm begging you. Its a good fic, thumbs up.)

[Crossover]

Honey and Magic by JustARatherVerySillyWriter, White_Squirrel for Super Carlin Brothers

Fandoms: Matilda (yeah you read that right), Harry Potter

Everyone knew Matilda was a rather extraordinary child, but even she didn't know she was a witch. Matilda Honey receives her Hogwarts letter in the year of the Triwizard Tournament, and soon, she will leave her unique mark on the magical world.

(Do I even need to explain how amazing it is to have Matilda in the wizarding world? And Matilda is a HUFFLEPUFF AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL THIS FIC IS GREAT PLEASE READ!!!)

An Eye for an Eye by DpsMercy

Fandoms: The Magnus Archives, Welcome to Night Vale

In which Jonathan Sims is not from the UK but instead, if you took his origins and turned them sideways twice then flipped them over, he technically would be from the US, the town of Night Vale specifically. Elias can’t do shit about it and gets a headache and slowly creeping madness instead.

(Look, I know probably everyone has read this because if they haven't, what have you been DOING with your lives??? Jon interning at Night Vale is Incredible, nothing phases this man, it's Delightful. I laughed so many times reading this, I'm not even kidding right now. Read or perish.)

The Favour by R_Cookie

Fandoms: Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Ship: Original Percival Graves/Harry Potter

Percival is ten years old when his grandfather tries to tell him that he's ensured the greatness of the Graves legacy for him, that he ought to be eternally grateful - but the explanation is hijacked by a stranger who manages to intimidate Chester Graves with an ease never seen before.

or: Hadrian (Harry) Potter is the Master of Death, who grants Graves a boon. Nobody could have known that the Deathly Hallows didn't turn you so much into the 'Master of Death' as into the anthropomorphic personification of Death. And so, Death becomes Percival's guardian angel, and Percival does not spit out his cereal.

(Look, I don't know how I stumbled back into the FBAWTFT fandom either, it just happened and I'm grateful for that. Otherwise, I wouldn't have found this amazing fic. Their relationship is slow and strange and I just love how Percival is characterized here. Also, one of the tag promises that it deviates from canon so I am really, really excited for that! XD)

baby that's what i do by natanije

Fandoms: Naruto, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!

"Are you telling me," Hidan exclaims, incredulous, "that you collect money all this time to give to orphans?!"

Kakuzu pauses. He blinks a few times.

"Huh. I guess I do."

(Tsuna reincarnates as Kakuzu and it's HILARIOUS. HE'S SUCH A MOM HAHAHA)

#Fanfiction #AO3 #Fic Rec #Fic Rec List #Podcasts #The Magnus Archives #Supernatural #Avatar The Last Airbender #Naruto #The Magicians #Game of Thrones #Haikyuu!!#Crossover #Matilda #Welcome to Night Vale #Harry Potter #Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them #Katekyou Hitman Reborn

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doubleleoenergy · 3 years ago

Text

IV; BLUE BAYOU SERIES

Oh that boy of mine, by my side. The silver moon and the evening tide.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: TFAWS!Sam Wilson x fem!Reader

Summary: Sam and y/n build furniture and decorate his home now that y/n has moved in.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY; oral (male receiving), face-fucking, Daddy kink, spanking, LOTS of dirty talk, basically plot at the beggining section and PORN at the end.

Word Count: 4553

Author’s Notes: This just proves that 1) Sam and Bucky are the bestest of friends, 2) Bucky has got someone on the brain, and 3) I am a whore for Daddy Sam.

Two weeks after their bedroom escapade y/n tugs nervously on the end of her cream-colored cardigan, biting her lip. She’s finally finished getting ready in Sam’s bedroom, having tried on multiple outfits for him to choose between before settling on the pale blue floral print fit and flare dress, cream cardigan, and white strappy wedges. Her curls lay tousled down her back, her face fresh with a light coating of mascara and her favorite coconut flavored Chapstick upon her lips.

Today was very important, well, at least SHE felt it was important. Sam and y/n were going out to lunch to meet Bucky, his best friend and work partner. She’d heard plenty of stories about the ‘white wolf’ as Sam teasingly referred to him, had been briefed on his vibranium arm and to not be worried if he looks like he’s constantly pissed off, it was just his RESTING face.

“You look beautiful.” Sam came up behind her as y/n put her gold hoops in her ears, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing the exposed skin at her collarbone. “If Bucky wasn’t such a stickler on meeting at noon, I’d strip you down…do those things with my tongue that drive you WILD…” A moan slips from y/n’s lips, turning around in his grip to wrap her arms around his neck.

“Well maybe if I don’t embarrass myself in front of Bucky, we can do all of that when we get back.” She plants a quick kiss to his lips, moving over to the bed to grab her crossbody brown purse.

“You’re not going to EMBARRASS yourself. Bucky is cool, and he’ll love you.” Well, he was cool NOW. Ever since their mission in New York and the cookout back in Louisiana that Sam invited Bucky to things had been MUCH better. Sam moved to the dresser to grab his wallet and his keys, stepping back over to grab y/n’s hand with his free one.

“I mean it, don’t worry. Besides, I didn’t even particularly LIKE Bucky until a few months ago, you’ve got no need to feel any pressure to impress him.” He plants one more kiss to her lips, tugging her towards the front door to get into his truck.

When they arrived at their favorite diner Bucky was already inside, sitting down at their usual booth in the back corner. He had tossed aside his leather jacket next to him, his eyes scanning over the menu as if he didn’t already know what to order.

The door to the diner chimed as they walked through, Bucky turning around with a smile when he noticed Sam. “You’re a minute LATE.” He announced, holding up his phone to show him the time. Technology was sweet now that he had it at his fingertips. Sam rolled his eyes, walking forward and embracing Bucky in a hug, patting his back as he did so.

“A minute is NOTHING, but I guess I should know better than to keep an old man waiting.” The two laughed together, letting go of the embrace before Sam motions for y/n to move next to him. “Bucky, this is my girlfriend, y/n. Y/N this is Bucky.”

Y/N watches as Bucky sticks out his hand for her to shake, the non-vibranium hand that is. She takes it in her small one, giving it a good motion up and down. “It’s nice to meet you, Sam has told me so much about you.” She chirps, finally taking in his features. His eyes were a DAZZLING blue, his smile wide, and his brows thick. He wore a grey t-shirt that looked a little too tight, showing off his muscular frame through the thin fabric. His vibranium arm, the one that Sam mentioned, was completely exposed but seemed to fit in with the rest of his appearance.

“Likewise, sometimes I have to tell Sam to shut the HELL up so we can actually get some work done.” He teased, letting go of her hand.

Bucky motions for them to sit, sliding back into his side of the booth with Sam and y/n sliding in across from him. As soon as they did a PERKY blonde waitress walked over, flashing a bright smile at all of them before settling her gaze on Bucky. It was clear she thought he was attractive, keeping her eyes on him as she pulled out her pad of paper.

“Hello, my name is MARISSA.” She gushed, tilting forward ever so slightly to expose her chest to Bucky. He paid no attention though, his eyes typing away at his phone.

“Black coffee, short stack of pancakes, side of bacon please.” He slid his menu towards her direction and she quickly jotted it down, a blush appearing on her cheeks. Bucky kept his eyes still on his phone.

“R-right, okay and uh, and what can I get ya’ll?” She finally looks at them and y/n can see a twinge of embarrassment on her face for having been ignored by the chiseled man.

“I’ll have the breakfast burrito with an extra side of sausage and a coffee with vanilla creamer please.” Sam responds, plopping his menu on top of Bucky’s. Y/N scans the menu once more, turning her attention to the waitress. “I’ll have the Belgian waffle with strawberries please, and a glass of water.”

Marissa finishes jotting down their order, grabbing the menus and then looking once more at Bucky, a slight frown on her face, before walking away. Bucky finishes up whatever he was doing on his phone, setting it upside down on the table and moving his attention back to the pair in front of him.

“So, y/n, I heard you moved from Colorado. How are you liking it here during the summer heat?” Y/n tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, placing her hands in her lap. “It’s been great so far, it’s an interesting little town. PLUS, I have this guy by my side.” She playfully nudges Sam, eliciting a laugh from his lips.

He moves his hand to hers, gripping it under the table. “Sam says you two have a lot of fun together on your missions, do you have a uniform like him?” Bucky laughs, making his nose scrunch up on his face. “No, that’s BIRD-BRAIN’S thing.” He teases. “I’m what they call a super soldier, that makes me SO much cooler than Sam.” Another joke. Y/N seems to think this is a good sign. “But yeah, we do have a lot of fun on our missions. Some are harder than others of course, but we haven’t died so far.”

Marissa comes back with the men’s coffee and y/n’s water, eyes flickering towards Bucky again. He finally acknowledges her presence, eyes finding her nametag against her shirt. “Thank you, Marissa.” He affirmed. She walked away, giddy that Bucky said her name, as both men take a sip from their mugs.

“Well, whatever you do I’m sure it’s very important. Sam sounds lucky to have you.” She quipped. They seemed like a natural pair, their personalities seemed to mesh, ESPECIALLY their sarcasm.

“Y/N is pretty impressive too; she’s got her PhD in sociology and teaches at Northwood.” Sam adds, a proud smile on his face. Being with her made him look BETTER and FEEL better, and he loved being able to show her and all her accomplishments off. A deep blush creeps over her cheeks at his words, squeezing his hand under the table.

“Well that IS impressive, congratulations. Sociology seems like an interesting topic to teach. Are you a harsh professor?” Bucky questioned, raising a thick eyebrow in her direction. Y/N shakes her head, she DEFINITELY wasn’t a stickler like some of her colleagues.

“No, not harsh at all. I believe it’s important to get students PASSIONATE about what they learn in order bring awareness and CHANGE. I teach three different courses: Social Inequality, Racism and Inequality, and Toolkit for Activism and Advocacy. We have our required midterm and final, but most of the time is filled with lectures, documentaries, and discussions on the topics we cover.” Her eyes light up with passion as she talks, and it makes Sam’s heart flutter. Even Bucky seems to be enthralled listening to her.

“Well, if I were a student, I’d take one of your classes for SURE.” Their conversation is interrupted briefly by Marissa dropping off their plates, trying to get Bucky to notice her again but with no success. They start to chow down on their food, the sounds of forks and knives moving, and mugs being picked up and put down being the only sounds at their table. Eventually as their stomachs start to fill the silence ends, talking about some of Sam and Bucky’s favorite missions, what y/n’s favorite books were, and even their shared connection to the armed forces.

They finally finish devouring their brunch and Bucky sits back against his booth, arms spreading out over the back of it. Marissa finally drops off their checks, trying ONE last time to get Bucky’s attention but he’s distracted in conversation with Sam about their next meeting with Torres. Sam INSISTS on paying for y/n’s meal along with his own, and y/n decides not to protest this time. She’d get the next one.

Bucky pulls a wad of bills from his wallet, setting down enough to pay for the food and a tip before he stands up, pulling his leather jacket on over his tight grey shirt. They all thank Marissa on their way passed her to move out the door, the familiar chime going off as they step outside into the bright sunshine. Sam turns to face Bucky once more to give him a final hug.

“I’ll see you next week, noon on the DOT.” Bucky mumbles, and Sam can’t help but laugh, stepping back so that y/n can say her goodbye to him as well. Before y/n can decide whether it would be awkward to shake hands again or just nod in his direction, Bucky pulls her into his side for a hug, using his vibranium arm.

“It was great to meet you, y/n. I hope that Sam doesn’t keep you to himself forever, I’d love for us all to go out to a bar or something next time.” Bucky lets go of her side and y/n takes a step back, grabbing Sam’s hand in hers. “It was GREAT to meet you too. And sounds good, first rounds on me when we do.” She agreed.

Bucky turns with a quick wave of his hand, the couple turning in the opposite direction to head to Sam’s truck. The walk is short, and Sam moves instinctively to open y/n’s door before hopping in the driver’s side and starting it up.

“Well that wasn’t so bad was it?” He asked, his hand settling to grip her thigh as he drove.

“No, not at all. He seems like an awesome guy. I’m sure it’s nice to work with someone you’re close with.” Her eyes turn to look up at him, head resting back on her seat. God, she’s so smitten with him and it’s only been two weeks. He checked every box, even checking boxes she didn’t even know NEEDED to be checked.

He squeezes her thigh, teasing her slightly. He cannot WAIT to get home and tear off that short little dress of hers. “Yeah it is nice, although, did you notice how HARD that waitress was trying to get his attention? I mean, usually Bucky is all sorts of flirty but today there was nothing.”

They both laughed, y/n moving her hand to turn the volume up on Sam’s Marvin Gaye CD. She had taken quite a liking to his taste in music since they started seeing each other.

“It was SUPER obvious. I wonder why he didn’t flirt back.”

The past two weeks were a blur, Sam having gone on another mission and y/n finishing up with midterms for her summer classes. In their spare time, y/n INSISTED that Sam needed to make his place more of a HOME.

When Sam decided to move back to Louisiana, he had managed to buy a small two-bedroom, two-bathroom house a few miles down the road from Sarah’s place. After years in the service and moving back to civilian life, Sam still struggled with really making his place feel like home. Now that y/n was spending the night more often, enjoying the quiet that his house brought over the loud family that lived above her apartment, they felt it was time to UPGRADE.

Last week had been spent picking between paint swatches and painting the different rooms in Sam’s house, stopping frequently for some HOT sex on the hardwood floor. Sam had his bedroom furniture but was still missing living room furniture, kitchen furniture, and décor to tie it all together. At least, that’s how y/n put it.

They had just finished up their shopping adventure at IKEA, Home Goods, and Target, truck bed loaded with STUFF. Probably more stuff than they needed but y/n would make sure to return what they didn’t want.

“You know I’ll have to put together that kitchen table, chairs, AND the coffee table when we get back right? And the couch from Home Goods won’t even be delivered until Sunday.” Y/N smiles, rolling down the window and sticking her hand out, feeling the hot sun and the cool breeze on her skin.

“That’s fine, you can put that all together while I decorate everything.” She was excited, Sam was totally fine with letting her have control of the colors and patterns, really EVERYTHING.

Within a few minutes they had pulled up to the front of the house, Sam opening the bed of the truck so he can start grabbing the items. Y/N grabs a few of the bags, Sam shaking his head at her. “I told you, you don’t need to carry anything in, I got this.” Her brows furrow, setting the bags in her hands down in the empty space of the living room and following Sam back out the door for another load. “I’m COMPLETELY capable of carrying some of these. Besides, I have to catch up to YOUR physicality still.”

Sam laughs, tugging her against his waist and kissing her passionately. “You don’t need to catch up, your body is already HEAVENLY as it is.” He should have used the word SINFUL instead, the things she did to him. He shakes his head to get the thought out of his mind, grabbing the box with the parts to the table and carrying it over his shoulder.

Once they finished unloading the truck Sam got to work putting together the coffee table while y/n emptied the items from the bags, sorting them on the floor for the areas they would go in. She took the different canvas pictures they had picked, holding them against the wall of the living room to decide where she wanted to hang them. Once deciding on the perfect spots, y/n grabbed the step stool, nails, and hammer and got to work. The canvas pictures they chose for the living room were an ombre style of blues that would pop well against the cream-colored wall.

After they were hung, she stood back, closing one eye and then the next to check on their levels. “What do you think?” She asked, turning to Sam for approval. He had made quick work of the coffee table, screwing in the last few spots and jiggling it to check its sturdiness. “The table’s done.” Sam stood up and eyed the paintings, nodding his head. “Those look PERFECT there. I’m going to move on to the kitchen table and chairs while you work in here.” He placed a quick kiss to her cheek before moving into the space of the kitchen, opening the box and laying out all his parts.

With the coffee table done, y/n moved all the items purchased to the far side of the room, giving her plenty of space to roll out the new navy colored rug for the area. She made sure it was flattened properly before dragging over the coffee table, carefully setting it on top. Once she’s finished, she fans the coasters they had purchased on the table before moving to look through the other décor pieces they’d chosen.

Y/N was having so much fun letting her creativity out. It wasn’t long before she was moving all over the rooms, placing a framed picture of his nephews here and another framed picture of him and y/n there. It was all coming together, throw pillows added to the bed with a few others set aside for when the couch would arrive, more picture frames with photos Sam had chosen of family and friends scattered throughout the house. New rugs, shower curtains, and towels in both bathrooms.

While Sam finished up the last chair for the dining set y/n put together a floor lamp for the living room, moving the other side lamp to the bedroom before walking around each space and making sure everything was in its proper place. There were a few items she had chosen for the space that didn’t quite work once she finished including another colorful canvas, a fake potted plant, and some extra throw pillows that she didn’t end up liking for the bedroom. Those were put away in a bag by the door waiting to be returned.

“Babe, what do you think?” She turns her head in Sam’s direction, calling for him to look at what she’s done while he busy was putting the furniture together. Sam brushes off his hands, standing up and walking from room to room inspecting her work. He had to admit, the place looked MUCH better. The best touch was all the framed photos y/n had printed and scattered throughout the house. With the changes she had made it really DID feel like a home.

Sam moved last into the living room where y/n stood, taking in the rest of the décor. “I…” He cleared his throat, hand nervously scratching at the back of his neck. He hadn’t felt this before, this PERMANANCE. The house was the first step, the roots that were grounding him here, and now everything seemed right. Even his old place that he’d been in when Steve and Natasha first visited him hadn’t made him feel like this, feel this HAPPY to be in his space.

“I love it, I can’t thank you enough for all of this.” She can tell he’s holding back tears as he speaks and she shushes him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

“Hey, it’s OKAY. I’m just happy you like it. I know how hard it is to make a place feel like home.” Growing up after her dad passed NOTHING really felt like home. Colorado was the closest she came to that, but it still wasn’t the same feelings she had when she was little and her father was still alive.

Sam wrapped his arms around her waist, bending his head down to nuzzle against her neck. “Of course I like it, I love everything you do. I love…” He trails off, moving his head back up to meet her gaze.

“Baby I…I LOVE you. And I don’t want to be afraid to say it. I want you to know that and I want you to know that this is your space too.” Y/N’s cheeks hurt from how big she was smiling at his words. “I love you TOO. So much Sam.”

He clears his throat, a hand coming up to rest on her cheek. “Which is why I was hoping that maybe you would be interested in getting out of your lease a bit early to…move in with me?” He doesn’t know what the point would be of setting up the house to be a HOME without her in it. He wanted it to be their home, together.

“I-Of course I want to move in. I mean, yes, I will.” She laughs, pulling him in for a kiss. His hands move under her ass, scooping her up in his arms. He was so HAPPY, their lips dancing along each other’s as they continued to kiss, his teeth jutting out to bite down on her bottom lip, eliciting a moan from her.

“How about we make sure that kitchen table is STURDY?” He asks, moving his lips to pepper kisses down her neck. He walks towards the table, y/n still in his arms, setting her ass down on the top he had just built. The table stays still under here weight, her fingers moving down to the hem of his shirt to pull it off. She trails her nails down his chest, marking the skin gently and watching as the marks faded.

“Baby, you always do so much for me, want to make you feel GOOD.” She scoots back against the table, looking at him with lustful eyes. “Strip for me please.” Sam does as he’s told, tugging down his jeans and boxers and kicking them across the floor.

“You always make me feel good.” He responds, licking his lips. He watches her as she slips out of her tiny jean shorts and panties, tugging her coral tank top over her head. She slowly unhooks her bra, tossing it aside, leaving her naked on the table, THEIR table.

“I know, but I want to thank you for how well you treat me, want to show you how much I LOVE you.” It felt good to say it, as she had been wanting to since meeting Bucky two weeks ago. His eyes rake over her body as she moves her back flat against the table, her head moving to hang off the side towards. “Want you to use me, Daddy.” She purred, her voice dripping with desire saying the nickname he LOVED in bed. “Please come fuck my face Daddy.”

Sam groans, his cock twitching and erect against his chest. She was splayed out on the table, head back and ready for him to FUCK. He moves closer to her, stroking his cock until it was inches from her face. “Open your mouth baby.” She does as she’s told opening wide as she feels his cock sliding in inch by inch. Her head is throbbing a bit from hanging upside down, but she didn’t CARE. His sliding inward stops when he hears her gag around him, moving out so just the tip rested on her lips.

“Shh, baby, relax your throat, let Daddy all the way in.” Y/N takes a deep breath, opening her mouth wider for him to push inside, enveloping him with her lips. SLOWLY, continuing to breathe, she feels him bottom out at the back of her throat, a groan of approval leaving his mouth.

He picks up a slow rhythm at first, pulling back so just the tip is in her mouth before shoving his cock all the way in the back of her throat, watching how he looked all the way down her throat. “Fuck baby, that mouth is PHENOMENAL.” Sam picks up his pace again, his balls slapping on her nose as her saliva drips out of her mouth and onto the floor.

“Put your hands on your pussy baby, want you to play with yourself while I USE you.” She moans around his cock, her hand moving down to her core, rubbing her fingers against that perfect bundle of nerves. Sam watches her, slowing his motions slightly. “Fuck yourself on your fingers baby, want you to warm yourself up for Daddy’s cock.”

Her fingers move between her lips, pushing inside the wetness. She adjusts to them before pumping them in and out, continuing to lap at Sam’s cock that is now hanging above her mouth. Sam watches for a few moments, loving the way she’s splayed out for him on their new kitchen table.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty, I can hear how wet you are while you’re fucking yourself.” He moves his cock straight down her throat one last time, causing her to cough before he pulls completely out and steps back. “Get up and turn AROUND, put your ass in the air on the edge of the table.”

Y/N rolls her body over, saliva dripping down her face and neck as she did. She turns around, backing up until her ass is high in the air, feet hanging just slightly over the edge. “Yes Daddy.”

Sam moves forward, gripping her ass in his hand before giving the tanned skin a spank, y/n letting out a small whine at the pain. “Look at that pussy, so wet. Do you want my COCK inside you baby?” He teases his cock against her folds, a shiver of pleasure running down her spine.

“Fuck, yes Daddy please, want you to fill me FULL of your cock.” Sam smirks, one hand resting on her back, the other guiding his cock inside of her until he bottoms out. A groan escapes his lips, pulling his cock out of her pussy before slamming back into her again.

He continues to fuck her, a slew of cuss words and thank you leaving her slips. Sam moves one hand up her back, fingers gripping a fistful of her hair and pulling her head back and her face up off the table. “Oh my god.” She cries out, eyes rolling back into her head. He’s pushing in and pulling out of her core, tugging her head back with each thrust.

“That’s it baby, you look so PRETTY on my cock, god I love you so much.” She whines again and he pulls her hair harder with another TUG. “Fucking you stupid huh? Are you becoming stupid on my cock, can’t even speak?” He pulls her head back, lips inches from her ear. “You’re Daddy’s dumb baby, aren’t you?” That familiar feeling inside her chest is building up, her breathing ragged. “Yes, Daddy, I’m your dumb baby, please let me cum. PLEASE.”

He lets go of her hair, letting her body fall back onto the table. “Yes, baby cum for me. Show Daddy HOW much you love him.” Within seconds her orgasm is ripping through her body, walls clenching tight onto his cock and she comes undone. “Yes, thank you Daddy!” He fucks her until her body calms down from her orgasm, pulling out and spanking her ass once more.

“Get down on your knees for me baby, want to cum inside that pretty MOUTH.” Y/N moves down off of the table, getting onto her knees in front of him and opening her mouth wide, sticking out her tongue. Sam moves right above her, stroking himself until he comes, coating her mouth and tongue with his stickiness. “Fuck, you can swallow baby.” She shuts her mouth, swallowing down the salty cum before he pulls on her chin, instructing her to get up.

When she does Sam immediately wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. “You’re SO sexy. I love YOU.” He proclaims, fingers running through her hair. She curls into him, letting out a breathy laugh. “I love you too.” She looks back at the table then back up at him with a smile on her face.

“Guess the table’s sturdy enough.”

#sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x reader smut #sam wilson smut #sam wilson #marvel #marvel fic #marvel smut #blue bayou series #doubleleoenergyworks

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mousemilf · 3 years ago

Note

could u talk a bit abt ur experience with switching to a flip phone? i took your quizz and it told me to get rid of my smartphone and god am i seriously considering it.

hmm. so honestly - its been abt 9 months since i made the switch, and while i feel like the "detox" has been very good for me, im considering getting a smart phone again bcs having a flip phone honestly makes a lot of activities and stuff inaccessible. like restaurants that want you to scan a qr code for the menu, parking/admission only payable through app, dealers who only use snap, etc - things u dont rly think abt until u cant do them. i also moved to a new city recently, and it makes it hard to be spontaneous when i cant look up maps. as nice as its been to "unplug" or whatever, i do think now that its more tenable as a temporary detox than a permanent lifestyle choice - not that i take back anything abt how positive its been for me im just like. ok that was a nice era and i learned a lot and i might be ready to reenter techno world now

so prefaced w that, i basically realized how reliant on my phone i actually was for things like maps and scheduling and shit. i did not think i was quite as reliant on it as i ended up being. it also pissed employers and stuff off bcs i couldnt get scheduling apps etc and forced people to make accommodations for me.

i had to learn to look up directions in advance and navigate without maps, and besides that theres just a lot of things you have to be more deliberate about - like for instance without mobile check deposit you have to take time to go to the bank. imo it actually gave me kind of a nice sense of control to be more like mindful abt the things i do. i feel more self-reliant.

the other thing is that i feel like i am more "in the moment" when i have to wait places. instead of scrolling through tumblr while im waiting for an appointment or to meet someone, im looking around at my surroundings and being alone w my thoughts which is nice. it took a lot of practice but theres a sense of contentment and grounding. also, not being able to post while im out is nice bcs instead of thinking of real-time events in the sense of "oh omg i could make a post abt this" i am simply existing without an audience. if anything that important happens i can always make a post later.

i also read a lot more books and magazines now, bcs ive started taking them w me to my work lunch and stuff. if i do decide to go back to a smart phone im gonna work hard to keep this habit. i think i wont have any "fun" apps on it and will only use it for those type of things i mentioned like mobile banking and maps.

anyway - im not sure if this is useful at all; i was kind of just rambling. but those are some of my thoughts. i think its a good switch, but how tenable it is depends a little on ur situation - like in a new city its not quite as nice.

thank you! <3

#ic #anon

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chews-erotically · 4 years ago

Photo

*Waxing Gibbous

Pairing: Ezra + femNurse! Reader

Rating: Hard M / 18+ ONLY

* Warnings: None really, maybe more angst/ comfort

* Summary: You arrive on Central and begin your recoveries.

* Word Count: ~1500

*Part ONE* *Part TWO* *Part THREE* *Part FOUR* *Part FIVE* *Part SIX* *Part SEVEN*

PART EIGHT

If you had fled the Green moon even ten minutes later, Ezra would have died. That was the grim information relayed to you by the sling-back medic after he’d been rushed to a med cot, given high-flow oxygen and sedated. He was critically ill. You’d been told immediately upon arrival and quick assessment that once you reached the Pug you were going to be transferred directly to a teaching hospital on Central.You were faring a bit better, but not by much. Your shoulder had been cleaned and bandaged. As you were conscious, you were given supplemental oxygen through a nasal cannula.

The medic had attempted to press for some detail concerning how you’d both ended up in such states. Exhausted and struck numb, you’d simply shrugged and moved to rearrange the intravenous line of lactated ringer’s solution going into the catheter inserted into the top of your forearm. The machine had started beeping, and the sound was like a hammer to your skull.

Once you reached the Pug things moved quickly indeed. Transport was coordinated in the Pug med bay and a nurse approached you, stating that she would be taking you into an exam room to obtain an updated set of vitals and enter your information into their data system. You had refused.

“I’m not leaving him.”

Clearing his throat, the nurse tried to explain the protocol he had to follow. You held up your hand to still his speech.

“Save it. You won’t change my mind. I’m not leaving him.”

***

Once on the transport you’d been able to keep your eyes open for perhaps twenty minutes. You’d passed out sitting on the hard metal bench with your head slumped forward onto Ezra’s cot, your hand clasping his.

***

Central was cacophonic. After the eerie quiet of the Green the sounds, chatter, colors and thrumming life surrounding you was beating into your brain like a staccato mace. Your head throbbed. You flinched away from the shoulders brushing past you. You were close to panic, overwhelmed by the sensory overload. You took deep, measured breaths. You stayed as close to Ezra’s cot as possible. You had to resist the urge to climb into it with him and throw a blanket over your head.

They were going to have to take Ezra away from you. You knew this logically. He was fragile. Needed intubation, needed close surveillance. He was most likely septic at this point and it was uncertain if the damage he’d suffered to his lung tissue would be permanent. You knew he might still die. You knew this, and you wept openly, pitifully.

“WAIT!” you’d croaked out, shakily grasping the shoulder of the ICU nurse who had begun rushing him down the hallway for STAT bloodwork.

She’d turned to you with sympathy shading her features.

You gazed at her name badge through waterfalls.

“....Mollen. That’s your name?”

A pause. “Yes,” she’d replied softly. You knew you needed to trust her.

“His feet get cold at night. Only at night, otherwise he says they’re like furnaces. He can’t sleep well if his feet aren’t covered. Please cover his feet. Please,” you’d choked.

She had given you a small, sad smile. “Of course.”

“Thank you, Mollen.”

You had stood pathetically twisting your hands together with tears coursing unabashed until Ezra turned a corner and disappeared from you.

***

“Prognosis is precarious,” One of the physicians had pulled you into a private room to go over findings with you. You had since been seen and treated; miraculously you had not needed surgery, though you would most likely have permanent nerve damage to your thumb and two fingers on your left hand. You’d been told that you’d most likely be in the hospital for a week or two; you needed IV antibiotics and respiratory therapy in addition to wound care.

You’d requested a private room as close to the ICU as possible, passing a piece of aurelac to the Intake Administrator. He’d accepted with wide eyes, and you’d gotten your room.

The doctor was solemn as she looked over the rims of her glasses at you.

“Your partner has diffuse opacities in the lower lobes of his lungs. The left is partially collapsed. We’ve intubated him, as you know, to allow his lungs time to rest and strengthen. He is septic, and he’s being treated with an experimental cocktail of three different antibiotics, dexamethasone for inflammation, and vasopressors to maintain his blood pressure.

“Fortunately, his body is strong and his kidney function is improving. He has remained without a fever for the past eight hours, so that is reassuring. If he continues to show improvement I am fairly confident that we can begin planning for extubation within the next two to three days. If he can tolerate extubation and begin breathing on his own, we can start weaning his oxygen and begin to wake him up.”

Though you knew what you were walking into, you steeled yourself.

You entered his room and stood a moment to process the sheer enormity of the amount

of medical equipment keeping Ezra alive. You took in the tubes and wires, the bags of

fluid infusing through catheters, the softly beeping sensors. When you were not in your

room or engaged in your own treatments, you were here. You pulled up the chair that

Mollen had placed especially for you, and you began your silent vigil once again.

Ezra looked so small in that bed, so fragile. He was dwarfed by the machinations

surrounding him. He was pale, wan. As you always did, you grasped his hand and

squeezed, ran your thumb over his knuckles the way he’d once done with you.

you talked to him softly, describing the room, going over what had happened since you

had escaped the Green. You talked about your own treatments and progress. You

described Central, how busy and bustling everything was, how many people flooded the

streets each day. Theatres you’d seen across from your window, coffee shops and

bars you wanted to explore with him. Your favorite activity was reading to him. You had

spent a great deal discussing all manner of art, and Ezra loved to talk about books both

well-loved and those he longed to read but had been unable to find. As you found

yourself in the incomprehensible position of having more credits than you could ever

imagine possessing, you had books delivered to your room.

Ezra was extubated the day you received your last dose of antibiotics. You were due to

be discharged in three days. His organ function had improved at a rate that had exceeded

the expectations of his medical team. His encyclopedic list of medications had shortened reassuringly. He was strong enough to tolerate the extubation and was transitioned to a nasal cannula. You rejoiced in this, though your anxiety spiked as the physicians began the arduous task of bringing him out of sedation. It did not happen all at once as many thought, but gradually and in increments. It happened in sighs and twitches, thrashes and groans. You wondered if he dreamed. You hoped that he could hear you repeat your devotions.

You had secured a lease downtown, finding a loft a block from the hospital. It was spacious, covered in windows that stretched, floor to ceiling, and opened onto a balcony that afforded you a breathless view of Central. You had never had something so nice in your life.

You had been discharged for two days, you had started to plan how to turn your new space into a safe space for both you and Ezra, when you were alerted by the hospital that Ezra had awakened. He was asking for you.

You doubt if your feet touched the ground as you rushed to the hospital, stopping only to catch your breath.

You entered his room panting, vibrating.

Ezra was sitting upright, the first time you’d seen him not supine in weeks. He was pale, he sported dark and sunken circles under his eyes. His hair was wildly curling, his blond streak sticking straight out. He was sipping gingerly on a cup of water with a shaking hand.

Your Ezra. Beautiful Ezra.

“.....Ez?”

He looked upon you as if you were an apparition. He went to move shakily to his feet, and you were there before he could stand. Enveloping him in your arms, kissing his face, feeling him and inhaling whatever you could of him, of his vibrant life.

Alive.

You realized you were both weeping, you chuckled as you took turns wiping the wetness from one another’s face. When he spoke, his voice was rough, you knew it would take time for Ezra to regain his mellifluous cadence.

“Beautiful star, our souls cannot escape one another, universe try as it might to tear us asunder.”

“I missed you, Ezra. Sweet love, I’m never letting you out of my sight ever again. Ever.”

“I wish you luck trying to part from me at this point, Dove.”

You knew you’d done something right, standing against him.

You knew you were home.

#chews-erotically writes #ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra #ezra fics

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hardyimagines · 5 years ago

Text

Rumors

Drabble. little bit of angst + little bit of fluff

Warnings: mild physical aggression

The icy floorboards welcomed your barefeet as you quietly traipsed across the dust-ridden wooden floor. The ground was warmer than the surrounding room, tense and silent. The fight that had taken place earlier seemed to still linger in the room. The yells echoed throughout your head despite the fact that the only sound taking place was the crackling from the dancing flame in the fireplace as it ate the coals and log tucked away inside the spot.

Alfie was seated on the sofa. He had a blanket draped across his lap, lopsided and crumpled as he laid his forearms on his thighs, fingers pinched around an old novel he’d found a few days ago. The blue-eyed man was pretending to read the words but no matter how many times he tried to absorb the information in front of him, he couldn’t comprehend anything he was reading. He could hear you tiptoeing through the room and toward the kitchen. He knew you were trying to avoid another altercation. The one that had happened earlier hadn’t ended on good terms. His eyes slid to the clock in the corner, it was past midnight, too late for another disagreement anyway. He eyed the oversized necessity as the minute hand ticked by quietly. His observation didn’t last long before he looked back down at his book, fingers lifting to pinch the frame of his glasses so he could adjust them. He kept a close eye on you, peripheral vision trusty and reliable. He caught a final glimpse of you, vanishing through the doorway and into the kitchen.

You just wanted a hot cup of tea. You needed something to relax you, to help lull you to sleep. It was hard when you were left on your own, Alfieless. When the pair of you fought, you were both stubborn, equally refusing to apologize for what had taken place. Sometimes the tension wore away and you went about it as if nothing had happened. Other times, he’d strike up a conversation and apologize without ever having to say those simple words. ‘I’m sorry.’ It was like a weighted phrase to him. You were no better though, just as refusing to say them.

You let a soft sigh fall past your lips as you drew a small mug out of the cabinet and set it on the clean counter. Your fingertips brushed along the handle as you did your best to push the memory of earlier to the farthest corner of your mind. It didn’t work. It was front and center.

Your shoulders were still sore from where he’d unexpectedly pressed you against the nearby wall. It had been a bit rough, too sudden for you to have been able to prepare yourself.

Earlier that day

A sharp gasp fell from your parted lips. The muscles in your back and the bones of your shoulders tightened as you were slammed up against the wall leading to the kitchen. Alfie’s eyes were wild, absent, you didn’t recognize him at all as he held you in place. His grip on your arms was tight, fingers sinking into the warm flesh of your tender skin as he peered down at you.

“What the hell is your problem?” He spat. It was evident your moaning and sighing and need to avoid him throughout the day had finally gotten on his last nerve.

“You.” You shoved at him, an attempt to free yourself from his strong grasp, but he tightened his grip and pushed you back more firmly.

“Me?” He almost laughed. His tone dropped with disbelief. He was the only one of the two of you who had a right to be upset.

“You’ve been rude all day.” You struggled pointlessly in his strong grasp. The curls that hadn’t been long enough to stay tucked away in your tied hair fell in front of your eyes, tickling your cheeks. The strands lifted with your soft breaths. Confidence and bravery shown in those big eyes of yours, but he saw the fear that tagged alongside, cowering behind the seemingly stronger display of emotions. Telling him how you felt could go one of two ways. He’d be understanding and hear you out about why you were so bothered or he’d lash out.

He cocked a brow. He had a lot on his mind, a lot of things had been said to him today. He hadn’t revealed any of that to you yet though. “Right and when was this, pet. You’re the one who’s been stomping around, sighing and moaning and complaining, yeah. I haven’t fucking done anything.” His eyes narrowed, the impatience that radiated off of him seemed to gather in his fingertips, forcing him to press on your arms just a little rougher, trying to pull the words from your throat quicker.

Your jaw clenched, pink lips pressing against each other before a heavy scoff fell from your lips. You winced in the slightest beneath his touch, head tilting back so your chin was turned up at him. “You’ve been rude to me all day long and the second that I return the favor, I’m the bad guy.” With all the strength you could muster, your palms pressed against the front of his chest and you shoved him back as hard as you could. He moved maybe a couple of inches, hands falling from their place on your arms. You dipped around him and made movement to head for the sofa. Leaving wasn’t exactly an option, storming out of the house to aimlessly wonder around. You had nowhere else to stay so fighting with the man you were dating seemed to be the only thing there was to do. “So, maybe you want to be a big boy,” You squinted. “And tell me why you’re acting like such an ass.”

Alfie did chuckle this time. A low, husky sound fell from his lips as he lifted his hand to his chin and pulled lazily at the curls that stuck out of his skin. “Alright.” He barked. He was saving his questions until the end of the night when the two of you were tucked away in bed, but you could feel that something wasn’t right, and he clearly wasn’t being his usual loving self so the talk was going to have to happen now. The boots he wore everyday were dirtier than usual, louder than usual too as he stomped across the room, a trail of dirt following him. He settled in the center of the rug parallel to you. The only thing between your bodies was the dirty coffee table, stained with spilled coffee and food crumbs that he could never seem to clean up. “The lads have shared some.. rather fucking infuriating information, yeah, bit agitating really.” He wasn’t angry just yet, more frustrated than anything. He hadn’t said what needed to be said, but once he did you’d know just how far his anger went.

“Go on.” Your tone was sharp, slightly bored as you leaned back against the cushions, one leg lifting to drape across the other. You laid your hands in your lap, soft eyes moving along his features as you waited for him to spit out some poor excuse that wouldn’t help him out of the situation he’d thrown himself into.

“You’ve apparently been sneaking around with Charlie.” His brows lifted, scruffy facial hair above his lip rubbing against the hair that gathered on his chin as he pulled his lips in. “So ive been told by a few of the fucking lads, right.” His blue eyes seemed much darker beneath the glow of the fire in the corner. As if his emotions could change the color of his orbs. You straightened on the sofa. He could tell you were getting ready to speak. “I’ll let you explain yourself, won’t I, yeah, because I am the type of man to give my girl a chance to defend herself, right, so.” His arms folded over his chest, arms flexing beneath the thin material of his white shirt. “Are you fucking sneaking around?” Alfie growled.

The air in your lungs vanished. A sharp pain formed in your chest, a stinging, agitating feeling that picked and poked at you. “Leave it to you, Alfie, to accuse me of cheating based on what your trusty lads tell you.” Huffing, you pushed yourself up from the sofa. “You’re pathetic. If you honestly believe that I’d ever even think about someone else let alone mess around..” Your tone was growing sharper. Your voice was growing louder. Alfie unfolded his arms, hands pressing against his hips as he stared at you.

“Didn’t say that, now did I, I repeated, right, what they fucking said and am now generously giving you the fucking opportunity to explain yourself.” He suddenly bellowed.

Exasperated, you lifted your hands to your face and rubbed it down. “By asking me for an explanation, you’re siding with them!” Was he really this stupid! You stepped forward, knees grazing the coffee table. “I’m not going to recite the entirety of every conversation I’ve ever had with Charlie. You either trust me, as you’re meant to, or you believe those absolute children!” You almost shrieked. The amount of discomfort in your stomach made you curl your hands in the sides of the fabric, your bottom lip beginning to tremble.

Alfie was in the midst of moistening his lips so he could bite back a response but right when he was conjuring up something smart to spit in your direction, he was pulled back to earlier that day. Reliving the oh so lovely news. The new assistant, Ronald.. his brows furrowed. Maybe it was Donald. He squinted. He couldn’t remember the bloke’s name. He could, however, remember the way that multiple lads poured into the room, all of them joining in with the newbie’s words to rat you out. You were cheating, according to all of them. Alfie had been flustered in his office when the group started to explain what they saw.

Charlie was younger, closer to your age. He was brunette with big, brown eyes that seemed like the color of honey beneath the bright sun’s rays. He was a trusted employee. Not anymore. Today, he would be fired.

Alfie, at first, was settled in his office chair with his legs spread wide and his features calm. He absentmindedly twisted the chain attached to the frame of his glasses, ears straining to hear each of the lads as they told him about when, where, and what you had done with the boy. He could hear the quakes in their voices as they tried their best to maintain their confidence. Revealing something so private to someone who was the least bit understanding was, quite frankly, terrifying.

The low drumming of the rain outside hit the window. It was a soft patter, reeling your attention to it as Alfie stood, faraway. You hoped his memory was treating him well, reminding him of exactly what was said so he could pick at the spewed lies. You weren’t worried. What proof did anybody have? You knew. Nothing. You were faithful, honest, in love with the brute stood on the other side of the table. Part of you felt sick that he would trust someone else’s word over your own, but if you had a group of people swarming you with a confession — a secret, that Alfie had been messing around with another girl.. it would be hard to brush off. You stepped to the side, ready to remove yourself from your trapped position between the table and sofa. Alfie mirrored your footsteps, pulled from his thoughts. Your eyes darted to him and the suddeness of his actions, no longer interested in the raindrop trails that stained the glass in the corner of the room. Alfie’s breaths were slow, he was ready to explain. He took to long to speak. So you did.

“When you’re ready to apologize,” Your tone was no kinder than a few seconds ago, especially not now as he stepped closer. He was intimidating and tall and you didn’t appreciate the way he closed in on you. He cut you off.

“Me? Pet, I ain’t the one behaving like a whore, am I?” He placed his hands on his hips, eyeing you intently. Your every movement was scrutinized, as if you’d fidget or tremble or do something to give away that you were lying.

You stiffened. Was he being serious? Scoffing in disbelief, you lifted your hand and jabbed your palm into the middle of his chest, jaw clenching as you halted him from coming any closer. “What did you just say?” The man looked like a stranger in that moment. Never, in all the time that the two of you had been together, had he ever called you anything similar to what he’d just had the nerve to call you.

“Do you have another name for it?” The man uttered.

“Oh my god. You’re unbelievable!” Your insides churned with disgust. Who was he? You didn’t recognize him in this moment.

“Right, Y/n, I think that’d be you, yeah, seeing as you’re the unfaithful one. Can’t seem to keep your fucking legs closed. You’ve got no right no be upset, lass. You’ve been caught, is that it?” Truth be told, he couldn’t imagine you messing around behind his back. When the two of you had finally got together, it had taken quite a while. He made advances toward you and you did your best to brush them off. It had taken him months to get you to agree to go out with him, you were only hesitant because he was your boss, but the second you caved.. the dates had gone beyond good and your relationship had blossomed into something unbelievable. He couldn’t seem to figure out why four boys would tell him you were screwing one of his employees though if it weren’t true. What was in it for them?

A surge of anger shot through you like a shot of adrenaline. Without any control over yourself, your hand lifted and swung in his direction. You waited for the impact of your palm colliding with his face, but his reflexes were faster than you had initially expected. His hand was tight around your wrist and without any effort at all, he pushed you back so your body fell against the couch. He covered you, like a blanket did on most nights. His hand settled beside your head, eyes glistening with so much anger and betrayal as he stared down at you. You thrashed, hitting at his chest and bucking at him to get off of you.

Cyril stood in the corner. He had been laying down, listening to the pair of you, but when Alfie pushed you down on the couch and you were frantic to get free, he started to bark. His bark was loud, low, a heavy sound that made most people take a few steps back.

“Quiet!” Alfie shouted to the dog, doing his best to keep you still. He wasn’t trying to hurt you, but he wasn’t your punching bag.

“I hate you.” You told him breathily. “I hate you so much.” Your hits were harder, your legs kicked feverishly. He could see your eyes, brewing with salty tears as you did your absolute best to escape his strong grip. “Get off of me, Alfie!”

“Why, so you can try and hit me again?” The room was hot and your throat was tight as he continued to spew venomous and hurtful things in your direction. He’d only ever made you cry, one other time, and it had been when you were tired and sick and wanted him to come home and hold you. He’d insisted he had to work, but the second those tears raced along your warm cheeks, he couldn’t deny you. He’d ended up coming home with you.

“Alfie, please.” Your voice broke. You grew still beneath him, slumped. Your head rolled to the side and your chest lifted with your slow, quiet breaths. “If you really think I’d cheat, then I should go.”

Alfie clenched his jaw. “I want an explanation.”

“I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you, Alfie.” To anyone walking by the small house and peering through the windows that lined the front, the pair of you were probably a sight, Alfie straddling your hips as you slumped beneath him. “If you really think,” Your head rolled forward so you could see him clearly. “I would mess around with someone else then why are you even asking. You should’ve left.”

Alfie exhaled heavily. “I don’t want to believe it. I’m waiting for you to..” He shrugged in the slightest. He’d never been in this position before.

“For me to what, Alfie? Assure you. That’s not my place. If someone is spreading lies about me — that you assume are lies, you should get to the root of them. Did you even ask Charlie?” Sitting up in the best you could, you took this rare, vulnerable moment and pushed him back and off of you. He helped, falling back and landing on the cushions. He eyed you uncertainly, big blue eyes falling to his lap.

“Why would four boys come to me and tell me you was fucking messing around with Charlie, right, if that weren’t the case?” He sighed heavily, hands lifting to cover his face. He rubbed it down tiredly, unsure of what to believe.

“I don’t know Alfie. Why would four boys come to their big, scary boss and tell him something that they think would make him trust them. They’re trying to gain respect by doing right by you. But they’re young, stupid, and they’re doing it the wrong way.” Shaking your head, you stood from the sofa. “And you’re an idiot for even bringing this home. You know, as well as I do, that..” You couldnt finish the sentence. Alfie was all you wanted, all you’d ever want, and he was accusing you of being unfaithful. Your heart hurt. “Think long and hard about what you’re going to say next because if it’s not ‘I’m sorry’ you can save it and I’ll leave on my own accord.” You stepped around the coffee table and slowly left the room. You needed time alone.

12:30 A.M.

The small house smelt strongly of tea. The scent was warm, inviting. It made Alfie’s stomach growl and his mouth water. He was tempted to ask if you’d made enough for two glasses or if there was only enough for you. He didn’t mind making his own, he was just curious if you’d had extra. The man had closed the book a few minutes ago, it was laid face down on his thighs as he slumped against the arm of the sofa. Cyril had quietly followed you into the kitchen long ago, curious to know what you were doing and if you’d give him anything. Alfie inhaled deeply. The fight could only last for so long. He hadn’t said a single word to you since earlier, your last words being that he needed to apologize and that wasn’t easy for him. You knew that, it was exactly why you’d said it.

You were seated at the dining room table. Your feet lazily hung, skimming the tile of the cold floor beneath you as you took your time to sip the hot beverage. You’d built up a tolerance over the years, it wasn’t so hard to drink the drink without wincing. You were impatient, always trying to sip at the scalding liquid before the steam had had a chance to stop lifting from the top. The mug was set on the table, you lazily rotating it as you ran through your endless thoughts. You waited for Alfie, hopeful that he would at least mumble out some pathetic form of an apology. You set your elbow on the table and your cheek in your hand as your droopy eyes fluttered. They were heavy, desperate to close, but the second that you did, you’d be restless.

Neither of you moved for what felt like forever. You’d drift for a few moments, listening to the soft tap of Cyril’s nails against the floor or the clank when you’d lift your mug and set it back down. It was only when the heavy sound of alfies boots filled the room that you looked over your shoulder and toward the door.

He was stood tall, wide. His arms were folded as per usual. He was stern, quiet. The man stepped into the room without so much as a glance in your direction. His footsteps were loud, thumping against the floor as he moved through the room and over to the cabinet. He was going to make his own tea. You watched him closely, taking advantage of the fact that his back was toward you. He couldn’t call you out for staring. You shifted. Why were you anyway? He’d hurt your feelings — more than he probably knew. Directing your stare back to the tea instead, you pursed your lips. You were not going to speak first. You were not going to offer him your drink because you were too sleepy to finish it. You were not going to ask him if he was coming to bed or bring up the topic from earlier. But you didn’t have to.

“Pet.” His voice was low. It was almost inaudible, even in the silent room. Your lashes tickled your eyelids as you lifted your gaze to the man. “Are you awake enough to talk?” The huskiness of his voice soothes you. You wanted to go to sleep so badly, but you couldn’t, not without him. Nodding softly, you let out a soft hum before shuffling in the slightest on the chair. Watching him as he moved from the cabinets to the sink to the stove, your pink lips parted.

“I don’t want to argue though, Alfie. It’s.. I’m so tired.” You confessed.

The man looked in your direction. He was quiet as he observed you. His big, curious eyes slid along your sleepy expression, watching the way you tried to hold your head up by your cheek, steadying it with your palm. Your shoulders were slumped and your body looked heavy. But he knew, just like you did, sleep wouldn’t come so easily.

“I don’t have it in me to shout, yeah? Let’s go in the living room. It’s much warmer.” Lifting his cup of tea, he moved over to the table and lifted yours as well. You stood from the creaky chair, stepping in front of him so the two of you could move into the living room to settle on the sofa in front of the fire. You dropped down first, lifting his book out of the way so you didn’t crush it. Laying it on the coffee table, you waited for him to join you before you lifted the blanket he’d been using and pulled it to yourself. It smelt like him. It was very comforting. The man set the mugs on the table beside the book before looking in your direction.

“Right.. so.” He was quiet, pondering what he should say first. You knew an apology wouldn’t be instant. “I’m sorry for how I acted today.” Your eyes widened at the words. Eyeing him under an inquisitive stare, you drew the blanket up to your chin and eyed him closely. “Shouldn’t have fucking manhandled you and pushed you on the sofa or pinned you to the wall, yeah, that wasn’t fucking fair for me to do, was it?” You were quiet, patient. Surely that wasn’t all he wanted to apologize for. “I’m sorry for accusing you of cheating as well, right, but it is a bit fucking difficult, yeah, to be told something by the lads and then to just ignore it.”

“I didn’t ask you to ignore it, Alfie.” You whispered. “But you could’ve informed me about what was being said, you could’ve asked me about It instead of pinning me to the wall and shouting at me and calling me names.” Your voice was still soft, no anger in your tone now. You wanted to resolve this. “Tell me the Truth..”

“No.” He answer your question before you could ask it. “I didn’t believe them, alright. But put yourself in my shoes, yeah, for a second, right, if multiple people came to you and said they fucking saw me with another woman, what would you do?” His blue eyes slid between yours, searching for the answer. He already knew. You’d lash out like he had.

“Kill her.” You stated nonchalantly. “And then you.” The amusement in your gaze carried over to his as you shuffled. “I understand completely that you had to have had doubts, but Alfie, you shouldn’t have been as rude to me as you were. If I cheated, which I didn’t, then yes, you should’ve been a cunt. But I’ve said maybe a word to Charlie..” Alfie’s eyes shot to you. He didn’t even want to talk about this anymore. He knew you hadn’t done anything with the boy. He just wanted to kiss and make up and then fire the lads who’d lied about you.

Alfie shifted on the sofa before draping his arm across the length of the back. You, without much hesitation, shifted so that your body filled the gap between his side and your own. Crawling along the furniture until your body was pressed firmly against his own, you opened the blanket and draped it over his body before laying your head on his chest. “I’m sorry, pet.” He murmured, fingertips brushing through your soft strands of hair.

“You’re all I want.” You promised him tiredly, arm hooking around his front securely. Drawing him into you, you let your eyes flutter shut.

Alfie was quiet for a few moments, his touch brushing from your hair to roam the length of your arm. He was gentle, his touch was caring. He never wanted to be in a position like this again. It was the most he’d ever felt scared. He’d thought he was going to lose you. “I love you.” He whispered, warm lips meeting the skin of your forehead. He had to lean forward to achieve the soft kiss and after he had, he saw your face. Your eyes were closed and your lips were parted. You were fast asleep against his chest. Your faint breaths tickled the skin of his chest where his shirt was unbuttoned and your hand was curled loosely in the fabric of his shirt, legs curled inward to rest on his lap and body growing heavier and heavier against his the deeper you fell into oblivion. He didn’t blame you. It was late and the second the pair of you had made up, your body let itself give out, thankful for the reassurance.

Alfie moved his attention to the fire before smiling lazily. Reaching for his glasses, his book, and his tea, he left his arm draped around your small body, embracing you as he resumed his reading. He was tired too, but he wanted to savor this moment for a while before it was time to carry you off to bed with him.

———————————————————————

Tagged: @peakblogbecauseimweak @mollybegger-blog @morphoportis @ghost-of-student-sufferings @drippydownes2002 @ellar21 @sovereigngoth @willowick13 @pansexualginger @heyitscam99 @haroldpain @justrepostandlove @emerald-bijou @multireality @innerpaperexpertcloud @goodiesintheclosetlove @giftofdreams @ihclipse @inkedfandom @thatsamegirl @doct0rstrange @jakechillenhaal @shanty-lol @clevertheoristpainter @favouritereadings @badmaax @thephuonganh

@wewillfindourwaythere @uhhhemilyrose @scarrasco1325 @bignastyfan-nz @hot-and-spiceyyy @azayamari @shane-isa-shame @lonewolf471 @crldrr @keeleyella @overitall2018 @lovebitesimagines @eddieisasnack @axxl-rose @slytherintothedeep @lucreziaborgiatheunholyfamily @demoncrypt1066 @phire23 @orphiceseum @advictedtohim @uncreativezx @hp-hogwartsexpress @captainbuckyboobear

#tom hardy x reader #tom hardy imagine #alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders imagine #alfie solomons imagine

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peachcitt · 3 years ago

Note

okay, so style reference you say? I'm 👀

YES STYLE REFERENCE I SAY

this is going to be. a very long post i think with probably a lot of tangents and probably with a lot more thorough explanation than you could ever want but. here we go

because all of my theory/explanation posts end up So Long, i like to organize myself by keeping myself to a structure, and i also like to think if i put stuff in sub categories with bolded titles, people reading can skip ahead to the stuff they want if they're low on time or don't feel like slogging through everything. so here's the structure of the official Peach Style Reference Narrative

1. Early Days - how i started writing, my early inspirations, origins

2. Current Days - discussions of current style references plus examples and comparisons, discussions of original content versus fan content

3. Future Days - where i expect my writing to grow, trajectories i want, conclusory thoughts

without further ado, let's get into it!

1. Early Days

like i mentioned on the discord server, ive been writing creatively for. a very long time. i just turned 20 (like. literally today. we love to see it) and that seems very young, but i remember writing creatively when i was maybe six or seven, and before that i played with dolls a lot, which meant every day i was creating little narratives for myself. in addition to this - and this is probably why i started writing so young - i was (and am!) a very avid reader. i was that little jerk in elementary school reading chapter books and going into the older kids' section in the school library because i'd already mentally surpassed the books in the section meant for kids my age. so, basically, ive been writing for maybe 13 or 14 years at the least.

when i was young, my favorite books that i remember trying to copy in my own stories were: the magic treehouse books, harry potter, and percy jackson.

the magic treehouse

i honestly could not tell you which magic treehouse book it was, but i remember reading a specific magic treehouse book where the magic lady that left the treehouse for the kids sends the kids (jack and annie??) a note in distress, and she didn't get to finish signing her name because whoever had gotten her had interrupted her. it had been printed in the book with the ink on her name running.

i could not tell you anything else that happened in that book, but i can tell you that at some point in time soon after i read that book i started writing a story with an interrupted letter just like that. i loved the drama, the mystery of it all. i wanted to do something that was a little scary like that, a little exciting.

harry potter

harry potter isn't much of a style reference, but it was a huge impact of my childhood. truth be told i kind of hated the books when i was really young because i grew up watching the movies, and when i tried to read the books when i was in elementary school, the teenage angst that hits about book 5 simply Did Not make sense to me. i also find the language of harry potter to be super cumbersome, and sometimes it feels to me like the books are long just for the sake of being long. they have a huge cultural impact, but i feel the same way about harry potter's style as i do about dickens. cool and interesting, but, like, could you get to the point already? (and also my opinion of j.k. rowling has steadily been growing worse and worse over the years, for obvious reasons. harry potter is nostalgic for me, but i can't look at it now without thinking about it critically, which really lowers my opinion of it)

however, you could probably call my first fanfiction a harry potter fanfiction. i started it when i was maybe six or seven, and it was a rewrite of the chamber of secrets with my childhood best friend as the main character (she didn't know about it, i just had her as the main character because i thought she was cool). i of course never finished it, but harry potter probably did a huge part of planting that seed of magic in me. everything i want to write included some form of magic - although my perspective on what can be considered magic has steadily expanded over the years.

percy jackson

of all my childhood "style references" that still influence me to this day, percy jackson has got to be the biggest. for starters, it's magic. second, it's main themes are about friendship and family - things that i like all my stories now to always include. third - and most important - is the narrative voice.

in terms of narrative voice, percy has a huge personality. he's witty and snarky, but also very thoughtful and poignant. a lot of my early writing was in first person, and it's probably because of percy. also, percy jackson was the first fandom i really got into, and it was the first media that i started officially writing and posting fanfiction for. percy's voice is so clear and hooking, and i wanted to be able to write something funny and real like that.

also - chapter titles. the original pjo series is famous for its weird and hilarious chapter titles, and even though i didn't really start writing fics or stories that were long enough to need chapter titles until a while later, i loved the idea of putting in a chapter title that would make a reader laugh, or maybe even make a reader feel a little apprehensive about the events to come.

but back to percy's narrative voice. i loved that style, almost conversational, so much that i started thinking like it. when i wasn't doing anything, like walking home in middle school, i often found myself narrating my life in my head like percy would, trying to find that humor and spark in my every day surroundings. i still find myself doing that very often, but not necessarily in the classic pjo style. now i narrate everything in my head a little differently, but that practice narration in my early days really helped my shape my voice, i think.

other series i read when i was younger include: a a series of unfortunate events and the name of this book is secret. i don't remember seeing a lot of influence in my early writing from those books, but i definitely think the styles of those books hit me a little later, which i will talk about in the next section.

but, yeah. these were the big three of my childhood. i also read a lot of ya romance, children's mystery books, princess stories, and various types of fantasy, which i think you could probably tell from the genres i like to stick to now. except i don't write a ton of mystery because, as much as i admire the complicated plots, im not sure if i'd have the patience to plan all that out.

in terms of the rest of the genres, a ton of my earlier writing included classic ya romance and fantasy tropes - chosen girl, love triangles, angsty overpowered teens, etc etc. even though those kinds of stories are not necessarily the kinds of stories i want to write or read now, i think my early writing of those kinds of things was really valuable. it's kind of a dirty secret with finished or unfinished works generally considered 'cringe' - often that writer is a new writer, or they're trying something new, or they just haven't found their voice yet. all of those things are perfectly okay and normal, and a lot of people in the writing community preach that kind of thing, but i don't necessarily see people cutting new writers slack in actual practice. writing "overrused" tropes isn't cringe, it's normal, and, besides, what trope isn't overrused? people have been writing and telling stories for thousands of years - nothing is really new. what matter is that someone new is telling the story, and that's what makes it valuable.

so, yeah, a lot of my childhood writing is cringe to me now, but i wouldn't be where i am without it.

with that being said, let's actually look at where i am now

2. Current Days

im going to break this section down into two parts, sort of: original fiction and fanfiction. because i think both of these things have become really important to me, and i don't believe i personally could exist as a writer without one or the other. it's a symbiotic relationship.

we'll start with fanfiction.

my relationship with fanfiction is relatively positive in online spaces: i write what i want to see from media that i like, and i have fun doing it. i also get some comments on my fics by lovely people that detail exactly what they like - some even go so far to talk about narrative style, voice, or tone - and that's really helpful. generally, i see fanfiction not only as a fun hobby and vent space for my strong positive feelings about certain media, but also as a place for me to try new things, experiment, and earn positive feedback.

i don't often share my original fiction online (and if i do, never at the same scope as my fanfiction), so i don't get that same opportunity to see what "works" with readers. fanfiction gives me the space to see that, and i apply new knowledge ive learned to my original fiction. that's what i mean by a symbiotic relationship.

in terms of specific style references for specific fics (which is what i know you probably most want to see), i'll try my best to pick them all out and give specific examples.

those benevolent stars and i am the messenger by markus zusak

in my favorite book list, i saw you mention tbs, so i'll start there. to be honest, i had no idea what my style reference for tbs was when i first saw your tags, and i almost didn't think there was anything specific. style references are a bit sneaky like that - if you've been referencing for someone for a long time, it becomes less of an intentional reference and more of just a you think, so it gets harder to tell.

lucky for this post, i just finished doing my yearly reread of zusak's i am the messenger, and as i was reading, i noticed a few spots where i was like wait hey i remember doing that.

for starters, iatm has been my favorite book for about six or seven years now, so i would say that some aspects of my style certainly comes from zusak because of how much i love iatm but also his other books. zusak has this huge talent for writing short, punchy sentences that convey so much in just a few words, and i think i've ended up trying to do that in my own writing. often, in my writing you'll see fragmentary sentences such as "He stopped. Blinked. Looked at her." that's not from anything specific, but i know ive written something like that maybe a million times over. zusak doesn't do the same thing - often his fragments are jam-packed with imagery in a way that mine aren't - but there's a thoughtfulness in his fragments that are in mine, too. a sort of pause. a hint that there's thinking happening in the narrator or a certain character. for example, i did a quick flip through of my copy and we have:

"We stare across the table.

Just briefly.

At each other." (I am the Messenger, p.144)

so you see how my common sentence fragment of "he stopped / blinked / looked at her" tracks with a fragment like this? i like the way zusak broke up sentences to make you dwell on them a little longer, consider the importance of each section, so i started doing that wayy before i wrote tbs i think.

also, at the time i wrote tbs, i think i was in the process of, or had just finished doing my reread of iatm, and, like i said, zusak loves imagery. tbs is a very imagery-heavy fic. tbs was influenced by a lot of music - a lot of the scenes have very specific pieces of music that i wrote imagining the tone and vibe of. iatm also references a lot of outside media sources, mostly music and films.

there are a couple of scenes in tbs that i think i wrote specifically mimicking or accidentally referencing from iatm. for example, we have this scene in tbs:

"It was almost like he could feel Marinette’s eyes on his back, steady and gentle. 'But you still love her.”

'Yeah,' Adrien said quietly, 'I still love her.' His eyes moved along a streak of purple that bled into a dark blue. 'I hate her a little bit, too.'

Marinette was silent.

He turned around, giving her a smile." (Those Benevolent Stars, chapter 3)

and this scene from iatm:

"'Do you hate me, Ed?'

Still stupid with bubbles and vodka in my stomach, I answer. Very seriously.

'Yes,' I whisper. 'I do.'

We both smack the sudden silence with laughter." (I am the Messenger, p. 233)

obviously there are differences, and i don't think i did it on purpose, but the interaction is very similar. i love the gentle intimacy of that scene in iatm, that weird complication relationship between the main character and the person he loves, the hurt, the brushing it off with laughter. so i wrote a scene that incorporated those things

zusak is also really good at writing moments of quiet into his books that aren't necessarily important to the plot, but are still important. if you've ever read that ghibli meta post talking about the 'quiet' between scenes in studio ghibli scenes, meant to give both the audience and the characters space to breath, it's like that. nothing in iatm is not imporant - it all serves a purpose, even the quiet moments, and i try to do the same thing. there's moments like that in tbs i think, like:

"Marinette gave him a small smile before turning back to her ice cream. Adrien tried to eat his ice cream a little faster, licking up where it had dripped onto his hand.

They were quiet for a while longer, and Marinette finished her ice cream. She leaned back on her hands and looked up at the dark sky, littered with stars.

He could see them all in her eyes, too." (Those Benevolent Stars, chapter 3)

and in iatm, you get scenes like:

"Our feet dangle.

I watch them, and I watch the jeans on Audrey's legs.

We only sit there now.

Audrey and me." (I am the Messenger, p.120)

so i definitely think tbs is a very i-am-the-messenger/markuz zusak-inspired fic. there's a lot of zusak's quiet, and there's the pieces of zusak's style that i've picked up along the way that really shine in tbs

tomorrow and this body's not big enough for the both of us by edgar cantero

ive talked about cantero a few times recently, but, as you've probably noticed, in relation to my fic called 'tomorrow.' i wrote tomorrow pretty soon after reading this body's not big enough for the both of us, and i used tomorrow specifically to experiment with cantero's visual writing style. in all the books by cantero ive read, there's this kind of hyper-awareness of a film gaze - how a certain scene would be shot on a camera, dialogue as script writing, and other things like that mixed with prose. i thought it was fascinating, and after finishing this body, i really wanted to play around with that idea. so i wrote tomorrow keeping in mind a "film gaze." for example:

"Two figures sitting on a rooftop, silhouettes. The moon hovers over them carefully, a crescent afraid to break the silence. One of the figures takes a breath, looks up into the sky at the hesitant moon, and he sighs. He closes his mouth again." (tomorrow)

versus in cantero's work, where we get descriptions like:

"And then, like a high-heeled coup de grace, she arrived.

She paused briefly outside the door, her hourglass silhouette cast upon the glass panel with the fresh shiny vinyl letters" (This Body's Not Big Enough for the Both of Us, prologue)

the tone of the two excerpts are very different, but there's a very visual sense to both of them, like they are being described from a shot in a movie rather than a regular work in prose. in tomorrow i also work a lot with specific camera imagery - saying where the camera goes in the scene, what it focuses on - and this body doesn't do this too much, but cantero's meddling kids does at least once that i remember.

regardless, after finishing this body, i wanted to try my hand at the visual structure that cantero uses in his works, so i really leaned in to the idea.

chat noir's white french man hit list for feminist purposes and grasshopper jungle by andrew smith

this is, as of right now, the most recent fic on my ao3, and i started it the literal day i finished grasshopper jungle. i think you might be getting a theme here - i read a really good book, and then immediately after i start writing something. the easiest way to get inspired as a writer is to read.

chat noir's hit list is a fic that is very much aware of the fact that it is a story being told - you don't know by who or for what real reason until the end, but it's a self aware sort of story. it's also very snarky and sarcastic, and it expands past just the confines of its own story; it's about chat noir and his hit list, but it also talks in depth about emilie agreste, chat noir's relationship with ladybug, and his relationship with himself. this is very much the kind of thing that you would find in an andrew smith book - grasshopper jungle is a story being told to you, and it's also about more than just the original pieces of the plot. the narrator tells the story that expands past regular confines of the story he means to tell - he's telling the 'history' of his life and his town, but he also talks about his great-great grandfather, the origins of the ketchup his girlfriend's dad eats, and what's happening in other parts of the country as he and his best friend are hanging out. the line in chat's hit list of "stars exploded, the sun did not, life continued on" was very much a grasshopper jungle and andrew smith-inspired line.

at the end of adrien's narration in chat's hit list, he says:

"It should be mentioned at this point in time that this story is not over, although I’ll stop telling it here.

So that’s the story of Chat Noir, who is also Adrien Agreste, who was very much a normal boy, except for the fact that he wasn’t. It’s a sad story, but it is also a happy story, and it is highly confidential. I’m sure you understand." (Chat Noir's White French Man Hit List for Feminist Purposes)

and at the end of grasshopper jungle, as the main character is closing out his narration, we get:

What I have written here is not the history of Eden. It is the history of the end of the world. All real histories will be about everything, and they will stretch to the end of the world.

The end of the world started when Andrej Szczerba slid into the cold sea as his boy, Krys, watched and wept and drifted closer and closer to the United States of America.

Nobody knew anything about it." (Grasshopper Jungle, p.382-3)

It's not overtly similar, but the structure is the same: recognition of the end, short summary of where we started and left the story, tag phrase that was used prior in the work. when i was writing the end of adrien's narration, i didn't mean to mirror grasshopper jungle so closely, but sometimes things just happen that way - honestly, so many of the things i do in my writing aren't intentional, they're subconscious. when i make a conscious choice, it's related to plot or to a new strategy im applying to style or voice that i'm not used to, but a lot of the things i do fly under the radar in my brain unless im purposefully trying to piece them apart like i am here.

i will say the meta-story of chat's hit list was pretty directly inspired by grasshopper jungle because i love meta stories, and i like using opportunities to put them in. i just love the idea of reading a story of someone telling someone else a story, which is what the two books by andrew smith i've read have been, and i think that's just fascinating, which is why i used it here.

ive gotten a couple of comments on chat's hit list that liken the narrative style to pseudonymous bosch's the name of this book is secret and lemony snicket's a series of unfortunate events, which i thought was really interesting, because i was purposefully trying to make the voice an impression of andrew smith's voice adapted to the tone of ml, but i could definitely see their reasoning.

andrew smith, like i mentioned before, likes specifics - what exactly people were doing at certain times, where a specific bottle of ketchup came from, etc. from what i remember of the name of this book is secret and a series of unfortunate events, i remember the descriptions included in those books chock full of highly specific, snarky details that aren't truly necessary, but do a whole lot in terms of adding a certain flavor to the narration. i won't try and look up examples from unfortunate events and the name of this book, but here are a couple examples:

"See, the thing about Emilie Agreste, formerly Emilie Graham De Vanily, is that she was what could be generously called a ‘radical.’ Born in 1969, like most amazing and world-altering things, Emilie Graham De Vanily grew up in London alongside her twin sister, who is a nice enough woman and who is not really that important to this story, and she was raised with the firm and gentle hands of people who had witnessed war and cruelty and had found that they did not like at all. Emilie Graham De Vanily grew up learning about the true history of England, which is not a very nice history, truly, and she grew up knowing that people with white skin like her were historically not all that great. That, historically, was a very radical thought." (Chat Noir's White French Man Hit List for Feminist Purposes)

from chat's hit list, and this:

"In 1905, being seventeen years old made you a man. In 1969 when hungry Jack fought in Vietnam, seventeen years old was a man. My brother, Eric, who was somewhere in Afghanistan, was twenty-two.

Krzys Szczerba came across the Atlantic with his father. They planned on working and earning enough money so Krzys's mother, brother, and two sisters could come to the United States, too. People who did that were called Bread Polacks. They came here to make money." (Grasshopper Jungle, p. 68)

from grasshopper jungle. once again, obviously very different, but you can tell im playing around with that same feeling of giving a surplus of facts in my narration in the same way that andrew smith does. you can't really tell in the grasshopper jungle excerpt, but oftentimes the surplus of 'facts' serves almost a comedic effect, which is definitely something that you can feel in chat noir's hit list.

[REDACTED] and six of crows by leigh bardugo

as a reward for sticking around through this, i'll give out something fun here. the current long fic that ive been working on recently has proved to be very bardugo-inspired, particularly six of crows-inspired.

in six of crows, bardugo gives us action right off the bat and then integrates flashbacks into lulls of action so that there's never truly a dull moment. i found [REDACTED] to be a fic where i wanted to use flashbacks in a similar way, so that i would get something like:

"She doesn’t stay for the whole parade, but she stays for enough of it. Nothing unusual happens, just like always, but she still makes cursory patrols around the city, ending up at the Eiffel Tower, just like always. She sits on the railing way up at the top, and she crosses her ankles, swinging her legs back and forth and humming softly to herself as she watches the sun set.

'Little kitty on the roof, all alone without his lady,' he used to sing when he’d gotten back to their meeting point from patrolling his half of the city before her. It was just a silly little song, one that he’d clearly made up for himself."

It didn’t hurt until he’d been akumatized, and she’d seen that one version of the future - the one where he’d destroyed the whole world because of Gabriel Agreste. She’d seen him then, a lonely figure in white, humming his little song to himself. Who knows how long he’d been like that before she’d been transported to him, how long he’d been really and truly alone. (REDACTED, chapter 1)

and in comparison, we get a lot of scenes in six of crows like:

"Kaz leaned against the ship's railing. He wished he hadn't said anything about his brother. Even those few words raised the memories, clamoring for attention. What had he said to Geels at the Exchange? I'm the kind of bastard they only manufacture in the Barrel. One more lie, one more piece of the myth he'd built for himself.

After their father died, crushed beneath a plow with his insides strewn across a field like a trail of damp red blossoms, Jordie had sold the farm. Not for much." (Six of Crows, p.205-6)

bardugo uses most of the flashbacks during a time in which the main characters are on a long sea voyage, which means they have a lot of time to reflect on their pasts and what brought them to these situations - it's a smart way to fill the empty space of the sea voyage and to really dwell on how important the voyage is. in a similar way, i chose to use the flashbacks in dull or lulling moments in the events of the story, ones in which marinette lets her mind wander or sees something that makes her remember something specific.

however, here's a situation where you can see me adapt the style into something that makes more sense for me, personally: in my excerpt, the tense changes between the current events and the flashback events, while in bardugo's excerpt, the tense stays the same at a comfortable past tense. when i was writing my fic with the flashbacks, i thought the constant, sometimes abrupt, switching would get confusing, so i made sure to always have a clear line using the past and present tense that readers could consciously or unconsciously take notice of.

so there are a couple of instances within some fairly recent fics i have that have specific callbacks to specific books. there are a whole bunch more, i think, but these are the ones that ive played around with intentionally the most recently or the most often.

3. Future Days

based on my recent rapid experimentation in fics (the most recent four fics on my ao3 have been very experimental in comparison to most of my works), i really anticipate a lot of growth in my overall style. ive been having a lot of fun experimenting and throwing in things that a few years ago i would've never even thought of, so im really excited to see where that might lead me, style wise.

i think as a writer there's always room for growth and learning, and that kind of growth and learning comes from not only practicing writing, but also reading. i cannot stress enough how valuable and impactful reading is on writing. considering ive been trying to read a lot more than i have been in recent years, it makes a lot of sense that ive been making a lot of weird decisions and learning more about what i want to see in my own writing.

honestly, if you ever want to know about any of my other fics, or you want to see how this kind of thing translates to my original works, just shoot me an ask! this post is already long enough, so i think i'll go ahead and end it here, but just know you can always ask questions<3

thank you so much for asking me this question and letting me indulge, and thank you for reading!!!<3<3<3<3

#ask #miabrown007 #writing #writing meta #writing style #writing style reference #my writing meta #this took. actually i will not say how long this took because i do not want to hurt myself that way #just know that this took a while. did it need to? fucking no absolutely not you didn't ask for something this long i did this to myself #this is why i didn't answer this for a couple days btw i wanted to take time to actually sit down and write down a thorough post like this #for you and i didn't have the time when you first sent it #technically i should not have had the time today but that sort of thing doesn't count in the middle of the night #happy birthday to me im giving myself a super long meta post where i info dump about some of my favorite things #also you did not. you did not ask for writing or life advice and yet i also gave that. im sorry it just happens i don't know how to stop #im so tired. i have class tomorrow (today) my cat's being a little piece of shit. we love to see it #thanks so much for asking this and i seriously mean it when i say you can ask any time #i obviously didn't go over the majority of my fics and most of this was done off of memory alone #(in terms of my own fics. the books i had to flip through to find the quotes i wanted)#so if you have any more questions about a specific fic don't hesitate to ask!! that goes for everyone btw #anyway now i have to pay attention to my cat and then go to sleep goodnight love y'all

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bellasweetwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Memories

Jess Mariano x f.Reader

(not my gif)

masterlist

requests: “omg please please PLEASE do a jess mariano x reader with the enemies to lovers prompt that says “ive accepted my feelings now accept yours” i can’t remember the number lol but hope that helps!” -- holiwould

“ okay bet. jess mariano x reader except the reader feels like jess is kinda slipping out of control and away from her and she can’t keep fixing his mistakes and they maybe break up or something? idk ab the ending that up to you ” - holiwould

note: this is a mix between the two requests, the song Miss You by Louis Tomlinson, and When I Was Your Man by Bruno Mars. If you haven’t heard them listen to them while you read

warnings: yelling, some trauma, most angst, kissing

word count: 2,3k

He was staring at your picture. Your hair was a little bit shorter than it is now. You were wearing this wine tone of lipstick that the employee of Sephora recommended to you. He remembered that time you kissed his cheek as he said goodbye just for him to walk six blocks with your lips marked on his face,

Damn, he missed you.

He missed your laughter, your suggestions for movie nights that always involved either Brad Pitt or Ryan Gosling. So much you loved them, and he knew that; he was jealous of them even.

Could he drink his memories away? Damn it, he needed to erase you from his thoughts. Everything reminded him of you. Every song on the radio was about you.

His pride, his ego, his arrogance, caused you to walk away from him the moment he needed you the most.

"Jess!" You exclaimed as he lifted you up and threw you to the pool, jumping next. "Why did you do that?"

You were both staying at Jess's friend's house after a celebration party for your new book, which was just published. You and Jess went outside to the backyard and walked around the swimming pool when he decided it would be funny to throw you to the water.

After seeing you battle to get to the surface, he jumped too, holding his laughter until his head was above the water, staring at you with a big cocky smile.

You threw water and him while you took off your favorite shirt since you didn't want the chemicals of the pool to ruin it. You left it by the side of the swimming pool where just a few seconds ago you were standing unaware that you would end up in the water.

Jess glanced at you, not being able to ignore that your shirt was gone and your bra was visible. He smiled foolishly, not being able to help it.

"Stop looking at me, you horn dog," you exclaimed laughing, as you splashed him, Jess tossing water back at you. "Was this your master plan? To throw me to the pool in the middle of the night and froze me to death just to see my underwear?" He laughed even louder, and you couldn't help to join him, letting out a giggle. "You have no game, Mariano."

"You look just so darn cute when you are mad, Y/N," he said with that tone of his. His deep voice stumbled in your brain as you sat down on the edge of the swimming pool. He swam quickly in your direction, impulsing himself out of the water and sitting next to her. "Did the cold pass?"

"No, I'm just trying a new blue tone in my lips. Does it suit me?" You sarcastically asked as he stretched his arm and grabbed his jean jacket, covering your shoulders with it. "Oh, what a gentleman. Is this your new move, because I'm falling for it. I want you, I need you. Oh, baby, oh, baby." Jess chuckled as you simply rolled your eyes, putting on Jess's jacket correctly. "Aren't you cold, Cry-Baby Walker?"

"I've been worst. Those cold nights in New York City, only covered by a blanket and the constant screaming of the adults in the room at the end of the hall, were the coldest nights and roughest nights," he murmured before looking at you. You were shooked as you listened to him, but soonly upset when he started laughing. "You sometimes say a joke and never know if it is trauma until you see the look on people's faces."

"Asshole," you mumbled.

"Pretty," he replied, making you look at him. He slowly leaned in until he was close to your lips before whispering next to them, "I know a way to warm up." And with that, he kissed you gently, running his fingers through your wet hair, instantly warming you up.

"Hey, Jess!" Yelled some guy, grabbing the guy's attention.

Suddenly, he wasn't at that swimming pool anymore. He was at the bar again, filled with these stupid friends he made in this new city. If you saw him right now, you wouldn't even recognize him.

He was wearing a leather jacket and some old jeans, with an edition of The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand on his pocket, a book he wasn't able to finish yet. He had in his hands your photograph next to that old vintage restaurant three blocks away from where you work. You described it as that colorful coffee shop with strawberry smoothies and a cute place to read a book or spend time with people you care about.

"Mariano," his friend called him again, appearing with two glasses of beer and sitting next to the writer. "What are you doing crying over here? We are having a party in your honor, man. It is not an everyday thing that your books get a review on the Washington Post, and make it to the Best-Sellers list. What's up with you?"

"Today is her birthday." His friend looked at him, confused. The clock had just marked midnight. "It's her birthday, and I'm in fucking New York City, getting drunk with people I met three weeks ago and staring at a picture that was taken a year ago."

No matter what this strange guy that he calls friend just to lie at himself to hide that he is, in reality, alone would say. He missed you.

"Don't make so much noise, Mariano!" You yelled at him in a whisper, both of you watching their steps as they enter his apartment. "Your neighbors are trying to sleep."

"I feel so sorry for them already," was the reply you got from Jess as he closed the door behind him and started kissing you, leading your way to the couch. "Who could say that I would be making out little Y/N someday?"

"Did you just call me «little Y/N»?" You questioned, laughing between kisses. "Hey, so I was thinking..."

"Think, no talk," he interrupted you as both of you sat on the couch.

"Wait, it is important," you said again, making him give up and listen to you. "Ok, so tomorrow, as you know, is my birthday..."

"What?" Jess exclaimed. "You never told me it was your birthday tomorrow! Now, I'll have to cancel my plans. Wait a sec..."

You looked at him, confused. Plans?

"Jess, I told you tomorrow was my birthday, like five times. With whom did you make plans tomorrow?"

"Wel, Jack, Fred, and Gabs. We were going out to the movies or some. Let me call Fred and tell him."

"Gabs as in Gabriella? Your ex?" He nodded. "You could've told me."

"Why? She's ancient history, and you aren't my girlfriend."

You quickly stood up, making him look over his cellphone to you. You didn't look happy, you seemed really upset.

"What are we doing here, Jess?"

"What do you mean?"

"For how long have we been hooking up? A month? Six weeks?" He knew where this was going. "At what are we playing here?"

"I don't know. You want to be something serious, I don't understand."

"That is precisely the thing I'm talking about, Jess. You never know anything. You never communicate! You have no idea how to express yourself or even how to treat a person that cares about you."

Jess sighed.

"What do you want from me, Y/N, huh?"

"I want you to care for someone at least once, Jess! I want you to remember things like my birthday or my favorite things or the way I like my coffee because you want to remember; because you care about me. We aren't teenagers anymore, Jess! You are grown enough to know that relationships are built by communication."

The writer quickly stood up, ready to discuss.

"I care about you, Y/N!"

"No, you don't..." she whispered. "You can't even admit that you like me. That what you feel for me is more than making out because of boredom." He looked over to the big window with the view of Philadelphia. "Your birthday is on March 9th. You tend to forget to carry a pencil with you, and surprisingly, you are always in need of one, so I always carry one in my bag. When you meet someone, you stay extremely quiet while they talk and don't even say goodbye to them when you leave, and I've always told you that that is extremely rude, but you don't listen, you change the subject."

His eyes met yours, and he noticed the tears that were threatening to leave your eyes.

"You like french toasts," you continued, "but not with your coffee, so I always serve you orange juice when I make them for breakfast. Your eyes shine every time your uncle calls to tell you that he is doing fine because even if you don't admit it, you love him and appreciate him so much. And I remember all of those little details because I care about you, Jess. Hell, call me idiotic and girl for even thinking that maybe... I'm in love with you. But I'm worth more than this, Jess, I am. And if you can't see it, then it is no my problem. I am done trying just to release I am doing it alone. I've accepted my feelings, now accept yours. Bye, Jess."

And with that, you left.

"Then what are you doing here?" The guy asked Jess, dragging him away from his memories.

"What do you mean?" Jess asked.

"You are clearly not over this chick, you don't want to be in this party even though it is kinda in your honor, and it's her birthday. So, just leave. Go get her.

"How would I be certain she'll receive me with open arms?"

"You don't, man, that's the thing about love: you never know what is going to happen until you take the leap of faith."

He was right. He has always been scared of making the big jump. He has always been insecure about if anyone is going to be waiting to catch him. He couldn't keep making the same mistake over and over, he had to accept his feelings.

"I'm gonna go now. Thanks for the party, man."

Jess Mariano has never been more sure about something that what he was about to do. It was absurd. He was going to drive for an hour and a half in the middle of the night to Philadelphia. Yeah, sounded insane, but everything was about taking that leap of faith he was always scared to make.

But as soon as he hit the road, the doubts and questions hit his head like a train. What was he going to do? How would it end?

He was a writer. Every time he had an idea, the next thing that he knew was how it was going to end. You can't write a story without knowing the ending. But apparently, that was the only way of living it.

While he was driving to Philadelphia, you were sitting on your kitchen island, staring at that red velvet cupcake that held your single birthday candle. You were all alone, the same way you were your last birthday. You couldn't believe a year has passed since the last time you saw him.

You read that his book made the best-sellers list of the week. As soon as you read his name, the memories came back, as they have never left, they were just hiding inside a locked box waiting to come out.

Jess Mariano messed with your life in a way you could have never imagined. You were in love with him, and he never prooved you, he felt the same way with you. Jess wasn't even slipping away from you, you knew Jess always had a footstep out of the door, and you tried to ignore it, but it was almost impossible. Once he was in your life, he was in your life forever.

You blew the little candle, ate your cupcake, and went to sleep, not knowing that two hours later, you'll wake up by the sound of the doorbell. Who could be at two am in the morning? Your friends were going to come to prepare you breakfast, but a seven-hours head start was too much, even for them.

"What's going on?" You sleepily asked as you opened the door, looking at Jess standing there. "Mariano? What are you doing here?"

"Your headaches are provoked by strong smells. You ran away from home at 18, but I've seen you call your parents from now and then to check on them. Your eyes light up at the mention of sugar. You have this Victoria Secret perfume that you stole from your aunt, and you never used it, you just like to spray it on the air and inhale it, because she smelled like that and you miss her. You used to be addicted to gum, so much that your mom had prohibited you from ever buying it. You love watching people renovate their houses on HGTV, and you make plans on how you are going to remodel your place. You love strawberries covered in chocolate, and you cry at the movies. And I remember all of these, even if it has been a year because I care about you, Y/N. And I couldn't say it back then because I was scared, but now I'm not. Now, I am the guy for you. I know how much you are worth it, I knew since the day I met you." He took a deep breath. "Please, Y/N, let me prove it to you that I can be the guy you need."

What would you say if Jess Mariano was standing in your doorstep, begging for a second chance? I'm honestly asking.

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