#julia writes

[buckyclevens]

john confesses to gale (excerpt from my postwar fic)

inspired by the line in the movie tropical malady, "when i gave you the clash tape, i forgot to give you my heart. you can have it today"

John reaches out in the darkness and carefully places a hand on Gale’s warm shoulder. He doesn’t stir. His skin is soft.

“When I gave you my lucky deuce,” John whispers. “I forgot to give you my heart. You can have it today.”

The words are out. Doesn’t matter if Gale is asleep, John reasons, he said the words and they’re out. An invisible weight lifts itself from his shoulders and a vice unclenches from around his heart. John exhales softly. He closes his eyes, leaving his hand on Gale’s shoulder, grateful that he hasn’t stirred.

A moment before John falls into unconsciousness, he feels Gale’s hand come up to cover his own. He feels the mattress shift and opens his eyes to see Gale’s face inches from his own, lit up by the moonlight streaming bright through the window. At their feet, Cinnamon curls herself into a tight bun, purring softly.

“You’ve always had my heart, John,” he says, taking John’s hand and bringing his fingers to his lips. He holds his breath, spellbound as Gale presses his lips to each of John’s knobby knuckles, Gale’s eyes closed as he does so. Gale’s lips are so soft, though chapped, and John’s too tired to resist the thought of imagining his lips on his own.

[julia-writes-things]

my tired ass almost wrote 'his heart fluttered at the unspoken implications' in a HATCHETFIELD fic

[coloredsolos]

hi :) i’d love situations #6 + fluff with jean please. love your writing!

MIRACLE ON 104th STREET

pairing: jean kirstein x reader

prompt: watching christmas movies

content: jeanboy surprises you for christmas, MODERN AU, not proofread

wc: 1.2k

a/n: sorry this took so long! the new semester started and since I’m a senior in college it’s gonna be a little crazy!! also, i'm sorry I kind of broke off from the prompt! find the list of prompts here

“Alone? For Christmas?” Jean asked you, his eyes wide as he did so. 

You shrugged. It’s not like you had chosen to be alone this holiday season, but with your father working all break, you figured you might as well stay in your small apartment. Besides, your roommate, Annie, would be visiting her father, so you would have the place to yourself.

“I don’t see the problem,” you admitted, the walk to Jean’s car seeming longer than ever. Despite your protesting, Jean was driving you home from the 4pm history class the two of you shared. Damn this winter weather.

“W-what?! You don’t see the-! You can’t be alone for Christmas!” Jean practically cried out, throwing his hands into the air in exasperation. 

The now exhausting conversation had started when Jean had begun telling you about his own Christmas plans. Mentioning how he would most likely go visit Sasha’s family again with Connie. It was their tradition, he would tell you. However, when asking about your plans, he did not like the answer he received.

“Jean it’s really ok. Annie will be out of town anyways. It’ll be nice not having to share the living quarters. Besides I’d much rather be alone at my place than sitting there at my dad’s. So can we please drop it?”

Jean sighed, but reluctantly nodded his head. 

There was a chill in the air on Christmas eve.  The snow that fell having no problem sticking to the ground, layering on top of one another until it was several inches thick. You had been bundled under a plethora of blankets while the heat in your apartment worked overtime. Jean has let all of your friends know about your Christmas plans, or lack there of, and now you were starting to regret declining Eren and Mikasa’s offer to come home with them. Especially since Carla made a mean Christmas dinner, or so you heard. The plate of place and bake Christmas cookies sat in front of you. 

They weren’t very good.

You only prayed that the copious amounts of sugar would knock you into a sugar coma that would last until the next day. Most places were closed, and probably would stay that way even a few days after Christmas due to the snow storm that was taking place outside. That being said, the lack of groceries at your place was starting to leave you feeling massively underprepared. Grocery shopping was not your forte. 

While debating if you wanted to pay the delivery fee in your favorite Chinese restaurant, your phone lit up from its place on your coffee table.

Jean: u awake?

You: do I ever sleep?

Jean: true

Jean: wyd

You: freezing to death

You: how’s Sasha’s?

You: did Connie sing the whole car ride there? rip to ur ears

Jean: I wouldn’t know, didn’t go

You were surprised to say the least. Why wouldn’t he go to Sasha’s? It was tradition wasn't it? 

Jean: coming over rn

Jean: damn there’s a shit ton of snow 

You knew there was no bother trying to stop the man from coming over. He was stubborn. Always had been. Instead your fingers hovered over the keyboard of your phone, unsure of what to say next.

Jean: do u want me to bring over groceries? connie bought way too much shit before he left fr 

You: yes pls ur a lifesaver

You: been eating christmas cookies all night 

You: also, please drive safe. I mean it. i’d be pissed at you if you died

Jean: <3

Deciding not to text the man while he was driving, you settled on making the living quarters look a little less like a tornado had ran through it, picking up and putting away any dirty dishes from earlier in the day.

Before too long, Jean was there. His arms draped with grocery bags, he wasn’t kidding when he said Connie may have gone a little crazy. However, you were more focused on how he looked. Jean had been dressed in what looked like a black turtleneck with a gray overcoat keeping him warm. How he always looked straight out of a fashion magazine amazed you. Meanwhile, you were wearing a pair of black sweats with mismatched cat socks on. And yes, they did have little ears on them. 

“Well are you gonna leave me in the hallway all night?” he joked, the smile evident on his face. 

Your face flushed as you realized you had zoned out. 

“Y-yeah, come in.” You stepped out of his way, ushering him inside. 

Jean immediately headed to your kitchen to put the groceries he had brought away. His familiarity with your apartment bringing a smile to your face. Jean shrugged off his overcoat, his muscles straining against the turtleneck that had been underneath. You couldn’t help but stare. It was no secret that your friend was a very attractive man. Not to mention he had the personality to match. His suave attitude, yet gentlemanly charm gaining the attention of many women whenever your friend group had their weekly outings.

“Helloooooo?” Jean waved his hand in front of you, bending slightly so he could meet your eyes. Snapping back to the present, you apologized quickly. 

“Sorry… what?”

“I asked if you’ve eaten? I can make something for us if you’d like.” Jean offered .

You nodded shyly, embarrassed you had been caught daydreaming again. “I’d like that…” 

Jean grinned, pushed up his sleeves and clapped. “Alrighty then!”

The two of you now sat on the maroon sectional located in the middle of your living room, your empty plates resting on the coffee table. 

“I just don’t understand how they forgot their kid at home!” You cried out, your legs tucked under yourself in an attempt to keep yourself warm. 

Jean let out a boisterous laugh, the sound music to your ears. “It’s just a movie! The whole point of Home Alone is being… ya know… home alone.”

You giggled, the harsh air providing the goosebumps on your arm a permanent residency. You shivered slightly despite the mountain of blankets you had been hoarding. 

“Come here.” Jean spoke softly.

“Huh?” 

“You’re cold.” He stated. “Just come here.”

Too cold to argue, you scooted over closer to Jean. His arm that had been resting on the back of the couch pulled you closer to him. You immediately felt relief, his body radiating enough heat for the both of you. You couldn’t help the sigh that fell from your mouth, nuzzling closer to the man without thinking. The tips of Jean’s ears turned a rosy shade of pink as you fell deeper into the man’s chest. 

You let the continuous stream of Christmas movies play lowly on the television. Neither you or Jean wanting to get up to find the remote and change it. Eventually, Jean felt your breath fall steady, the gentle sound of soft snores slipping from you as you slept soundly.

Without thinking, Jean shifted slowly, positioning himself in a more comfortable position, careful not to wake you as he did so. Finally comfortable Jean was able to follow suit, slipping into a warm, comfortable sleep. The soft sound of Christmas movies continued to play in the background for the rest of the night, counting down the hours until you and Jean would wake up and celebrate the holiday together. The first of many holidays together. And truthfully? Jean didn’t mind this being his new tradition. 

[imwriting0verhere]

Masterlist

Sam Fender x Reader

One-Shots

Absolute Bliss

What's Meant To Be

Birthday Surprise (angst)

Series

“Love Again”

Playlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Johnny Bond x Reader/OFC

One-Shots

Festival Reunion (smut)

3 a.m. Cuppas

Van McCann x Reader

One-Shots

Van turns 32

Birthday Getaway

Painful Memories

[juliafied]

Do not give into despair, its seeds Will not grow sunflowers from your pockets, only shades That grow longer with each day that draws near harsh midwinter. It will not warm the frozen jagged mud Under tank belts. Do not give into despair, its might Will not light stove nor bulb nor furnace In my grandmother’s house. It will not quiet the nightly sirens or still Her shaking hands. I am across an ocean and there, despair Hunts me with every word I read, With each day that passes with no change To dashed lines on striped and coloured maps. At night, I lay with eyes wide open, and By my door, I hear despair’s lonely breaths Mingling with mine. Yet, I still breathe.

[juliaandthephantoms]

WIP tag game

Wurde von @muidipel getagged den letzten geschriebenen Satz meines WIPs zu posten. Danke fürs an mich denken <3

Das is jetzt bisshen fies, weil der letzte geschriebene Satz der letzte Satz der Fic is, weil 1st draft fertig 😂 Vllt. cheate ich minimal und benutze den letzten Satz, den ich bearbeitet hab.

rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like).

Er hatte zwar 100.000 Euro in die Wette gesteckt und noch einiges im Casino liegen lassen, aber am Ende des Tages würde er hier rauskommen und das alles hinter sich lassen können.

ok ich glaube ich kenne nicht mal so viele Leute, hilfe. Ich sollte kürzere Sätze schreiben.

Your turn @croissant-enthusiast @the-thorster @spatort @dithschi

[3xc3lsior]

hi I just wanted to say that I’m in the middle of reading evol and I love your brain

Hi I love YOU!!

[buckyclevens]

phantom touch by me (aka burglarbilbo on ao3)

summary: set post-stalag-fight. john egan has some intricate rituals.

Gale’s fist stings and John knows he means it.

He pushed and pushed and Gale finally pushed back.

He sulks in his own bunk, letting the feeling of Gale’s fist on his face linger. John thinks about getting a wet rag or something to press against his reddening nose, but decides against it. In his lap, his hands shake lightly. He can still feel the phantom touch of Gale grabbing his legs and pushing and pulling at him.

The news of D-Day had been quick to distract Gale and alleviate just an ounce of John’s own worry, but it did nothing to repair the rift John feels growing between them. He sighs, unable to shake the weightless emptiness in his chest.

The rest of the barrack files in and John glances at Gale as he walks in, catching his eye for half a moment before he has to look away. Something between shame and guilt stir in his chest, hot and icy.

Gale’s bunk lies empty; Gale sits at the table, working on putting finishing touches on his radio. It’s rare that John spends time in his own bunk, usually he’s taking over Gale’s, but when John had thought about sitting in Gale’s bed when all of them were ordered back into the barracks, something in him shot that idea down quickly.

He lets the feeling of Gale’s hands on him fade.

It’s not until after dinner when Gale comes to him.

He’s got the doc’s makeshift medkit tucked under his arm, a bowl of undoubtedly icy water in one hand and a hand rolled cigarette and lighter in his other hand. A peace offering.

“Hey there, Major,” Gale says.

John bites back something mean and venomous before it can leave his mouth. He looks away but sits up in bed, swinging his legs over the edge.

Gale pulls up a chair and sits next to the bed, close enough for his knees to brush John’s. John doesn’t meet his gaze, keeps staring down at where their knees brush, feeling the warmth of him through the thick fabric of their uniforms.

Gale places the cigarette and lighter on the bed next to John’s leg and wordlessly places the medkit in John’s lap before dabbing a cloth into the bowl of water and leaning forward. He takes John’s face in his hand, gently cupping his chin, and starts gently cleaning away the few drops of blood that had started to dry and crust on his upper lip.

John knows Gale can feel his jaw start to tremble and he still can’t look him in the eye, even this close to him — especially this close to him. Hands resting limply in his lap, John sits still as Gale cleans him up. His nose isn’t broken, Gale clearly pulled his punch during their scuffle, but it still smarts. It’ll bruise. John guesses it already is starting to. (He thinks he wants it to.)

“Sorry ‘bout this, John,” Gale says, voice soft, as if it’s just the two of them there.

John clenches his hands into fists in his lap to keep himself from reaching out and touching Buck the way he wants to, the way he needs to.

“We got to western Europe,” Gale says. “It won’t be like this forever.”

John swallows around the lump in his throat. He looks around, catches Demarco’s eye at the poker table before he looks away, then finally, John looks at Gale . The tightness in his chest pulses as he meets Gale’s warm gaze.

“Nine months,” he says quietly.

Gale looks at him.

“It’s been nine months since you’ve touched me,” his voice is barely above a whisper. Gale is still holding his chin in his hands, gentle, firm, and warm.

“John…”

He grabs Gale’s wrist all of a sudden, stops him from cleaning his face. He presses the pad of his thumb to Gale’s pulse. John has always known Gale to have rough hands, at home he worked with animals, at bootcamp anyone who came in with soft hands wasn't long for them , and here and now no one, least of all Gale has had leisure time for calluses and blisters to fade. Ever since they started this thing between them, John’s loved the feeling of Gale’s hands on him; his rough hands giving him the lightest, gentlest touches. Now, John will take whatever touch Gale will give him, even if he has to press for it.

The first time Gale touched him, just a half-joking caress of his cheek, John thought about it for days after, half thinking (half hoping) that his cheek was branded with Gale’s fingerprints. They’d been in bootcamp then, young and bone-tired; John had been halfway drunk but he remembers it all so vividly.

Now, John holds Gale’s wrist with a cautious tenderness. Everything around them fades away — the sound of the men playing poker, the freezing barracks, the damn stalag itself . It’s just them. John’s skin burns where Gale touches him — intense and familiar. John almost closes his eyes, starts to lean into it.

At the poker table, Brady cheers loudly, breaking the two of them out of their thoughts. Reality comes back around them. Buck looks away, back at the table, smiling in quiet congratulations.

“Bucky,” Gale says again, a slight warning. He takes his hand away from his face, letting John’s grip on his wrist drop. John doesn’t fight it.

A bitter smile stretches John’s mouth and he looks away, grabs the cigarette and lighter. His face throbs a bit more and he wishes he had ice to dull the pain. He lights up. The tobacco is a nice distraction from the fact that he wants to run and he wants to touch Gale and he wants to get the fuck out and he wants to —

“Bucky,” comes Gale’s voice. “It’s cold tonight, mind if I bunk here?”

“Sure, Buck,” he says. “Sure.” Because what else could he possibly say? Gale is trying, John can see that much, and he’s felt shitty all evening. Maybe the news about landing at Normandy does mean this will be over soon. The energy for hope is draining him and he doesn’t have it in him to push Gale away, at least no further than he already feels.

Lights out comes and goes.

John lies down, presses his back against the wall of his bunk, facing outward. He closes his eyes, letting the time pass, dull moonlight streaming through the grimy windows. He doesn’t know how much time has passed when he feels his blankets shift and Gale crawl into his bunk. John opens his eyes and finds Gale’s soft face inches away. Gale smiles at him, small, mouth closed. He knows this smile well. He knows all of Gale’s smiles well.

Under the scratchy blanket, Gale reaches out and places his hand on John’s arm, squeezing gently.

“Hiya, Bucky,” Gale whispers.

John squeezes his eyes closed and reaches for Gale. He closes his hand around a fistful of fabric, pulling him close. Gale presses his lips to John’s forehead silently.

“I’m sorry, John,” Gale says. “We’re getting out of this.”

John nods. He’s heard this so many times, lately it’s seemed like Gale is always saying it to him. “I know,” John says, but he’s hard-pressed to believe it. He doesn’t have the energy to pick a fight and he doesn’t even really want to, not when he has Gale here like this.

“I’m serious,” Gale says, his lips against John’s face, breath warm on his skin. “You ‘n me, Bucky .” Another kiss. “John.”

Gale presses forward, wraps an arm around John , holding him close, pressing them together. John buries his face in Gale’s neck, breathes him in. His face aches with the phantom touch of Gale’s fist but this cuts through that noise; his neck is warm and soft and through all the grime and dirt he still smells like Gale.

“How are you like this all the time?” John says before he can stop himself.

A beat passes in silence between them.

“I don’t know any other way to be,” Gale says. “It’s you and me.”

John’s chest twists and he clings to Gale tighter. It’s the warmest he’s felt in ages.

“Yeah,” John says. “It is.” He shuts his eyes and wills his mind to be quiet, forcing himself to get lost in the way Gale holds him now. For the first time in months, John falls asleep peacefully, warm in Gale’s arms.

[julia-writes-things]

soo uhhh remember 22 days ago i said i'd write blind Jimmy? (This isn't good at all i have such bad mcyt writers block *cries*)

“It’s okay… you’re okay… it’s all good… right? Right?” Grian asked, his eyes darting around the area. They were just below bread bridge, or what was bread bridge. It was now just a patch of dirt and planks, hanging miraculously in the air. 

“I can’t see, Grian,” Jimmy snapped.

“Oh–” that made him pause. He examined Jimmy’s face. He’d seen a lot in these games, but this felt real.

“Well I mean, it’s like really severe tunnel vision. And even that is blurry.”

“That’s not good.”

“Of course it’s not good!”

“Well uh… what can I do?” he asked, careful not to anger the man further. 

“Just…” he sighed. “Take me back to the manor, maybe Joel will know what to do.” Grian nodded, swallowing his comment that Joel panicked more than he did under pressure. But maybe Jimmy was blaming him for this… tragedy? Incident? He couldn’t quite find the correct word for it. That aside, he picked Jimmy up, and started navigating through the thick trunks of the trees, and up the house. 

Jimmy was silent on the climb up, probably processing everything. In all honesty, Grian was too. Up till this point, he’d thought of these from his Watcher perspective. These lives were temporary, everything could be healed eventually… Right? Everyone died at the end, and were sent back to their original games perfectly intact. Now, he thought about it in the moment. Jimmy would have to live with this, at least until his next life. Guilt crept down his throat, forming a lump in his throat. He’d caused this chaos, now he’d need to deal with the consequences.

Season: Limited life

Characters: Bad Boys(™)

Background info: Jimmy got retinitis pigmentosa from being shot in the face with a crossbow loaded with fireworks from the clockers during the bread bridge thing.

@bluetbluish yes i did research types of blindness for it to never be mentioned

[redjayson]

Oh, I recognize girls are fighting from an old progress update and I'd been wondering if that one had already been posted and I missed it! What's up with it?

OMG I FUCKING FORGOR TO ANSWER THIS. sorry for the late reply nonny. it's not been posted yet, this is still a WIP! here's the original bullet points from my svsss ideas folder, which is why the working title is what it is:

binghe interrupts the punishment protocol dream bc meng mo calls out to him like “hey come get your man he’s being fucked up by some dream realm even I can’t break into” but binghe can break into it bc Protagonist Halo (+ xin mo?)

bingge vs. bingmei happens early and oh boy the girls are fightingggg

luo binghe truly lives in an endless cycle of having to fight other versions of himself in defense of his shizun 😭

"You dare address Shizun in such a way?" Binghe snarls, further delineating the differences between the two of them. "You dare to hurt him?!" Even as he says that, Shen Qingqiu can feel a familiar squirming in his guts and through his body. His physical body may be confused about which Heavenly Demon's blood is in his body, but that doesn't seem to matter in the Dream Realm! He can feel the bleeding slow, the pain fade—though not disappear—as Binghe deadens the nerves in and near his shoulder.  Luo Bingge sneers. "How did you get inside my dreamscape? Who are you?" "Why did you take Shizun?" Binghe returns. Luo Bingge tilts his head slightly as he studies them. "I didn't," he says slowly. "But...since he's here..." His smile is one that Shen Qingqiu had once admired. It had been on multiple pieces of fanart, including some posters that Shen Yuan may or may not have hung in his bedroom. It is mirthless and merciless and Shen Qingqiu had never realized the way it doesn't reach his eyes, leaving them flat and dead.  "Why not keep having fun together?" Luo Bingge finishes his thought.

[coloredsolos]

NIGHTMARES II

pairing: jean kirstein x gn!reader

content: this takes place during the scouting mission to marley, so in between s3 and 4

wc: 1.4k

a/n: finally!! a part 2 to nightmares hehe!! sorry it took so long I was so uninspired and eh idk! also wasn't sure how to end it at all so oops! view part 1 here

You had been quiet on the boat ride to Marley. The heavier clothing felt uncomfortable, and the atmosphere was stiffer then the linen suit you had been wearing.  

“Hey”, a voice came from next to you. If you had been startled, you didn’t show it.

“Hey,” You greeted the person beside you without turning to look at them. You recognized the previous voice as Mikasa’s. 

“Why are you avoiding Jean? It’s very… awkward,” she stated bluntly. 

You let out a curt laugh, your eyes remaining on the sea.

“I’m not avoiding him. I just have no interest in talking to him.” You lied through your teeth.

“Why?” Mikasa was quick to ask.

“Mikasa, what would you do if you told Eren how you felt and he shut you down completely? If he made you feel like utter garbage for feeling the way you do?”

The short haired girl was quiet. 

“That’s why.”

You had no reason to be so short with Mikasa, I mean, she didn’t do anything right? It’s not her fault she was the object of Jean’s affection all the fucking time. She couldn’t help the fact she was beautiful, strong, and so many other great things. 

But you were angry. Angry that Jean seemed fine in the weeks that passed your confession, he was even back to his cocky, albeit, over confident, self. He had become flirtatious once more. You often saw him flirting with some of the other scouts, however knowing Jean, it was just good fun.

Why didn’t you get to have fun? Why did you have to spend your time avoiding your friends so you didn’t create an awkward environment for them whenever you were around Jean (a feat which obviously had failed). 

You felt alone. For the first time since you joined the 104th cadet corps, you felt truly and utterly alone. You lost the man you thought you loved (in the worst way possible might you add), and now you were pushing away your friends. 

The trip to Marley was meant to be a scouting mission, go undercover to investigate the status of Marley as a nation and identify its weak points. However, it was more than that. It was a chance to finally feel free, and you were going to use that to your advantage. This trip you were going to just live. You were going to live for yourself instead of anyone else. Being a scout meant being aware that time is limited. You never knew when you wouldn’t be returning home. So although a part of you had longed for a life with Jean and your friends, a life where you all lived happily, forever, you knew better than to think that dream could ever become a reality. What you didn’t know? You failed to realize that there had been a familiar pair of eyes watching you from afar. 

For as long as he could remember, Jean’s feelings for you were far from platonic. He wasn't stupid, he knew he had royally fucked things up between the two of you. He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t able to accept your confession to him, especially when everyone around him knew how he felt about you. But now here you were avoiding him, and well to be honest it’s not like he was actively seeking you out. Which is why Jean was so surprised to find you sitting alone in the back of one of the tents of the family who had brought Eren and the rest of you to celebrate with them. You looked more upset than usual, which Jean knew was probably because of him.

The rustling of Jean pulling back the curtain separating you from the others had caused you to look up.

“Oh- uh- I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were back here, I’ll give you some space,” He muttered, turning to leave. He had a nice buzz and wasn’t looking for anything to take that away, and to be honest, any conversation with you would probably do just that.

“It’s fine, you can stay,” You mumble, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll leave.”

“No!” Jean interjected startling the both of you. “I mean uh- you don’t have to… we can hang out… like we used to.”

You stared at the boy in front of you. He had been shifting his weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. You should have laughed in his face. But you couldn’t. Something longed for Jean the same way you had before. So instead, you nodded. 

“Yeah... uh okay.”

Jean wasn’t sure why he said that. Quite honestly the last thing he wanted was to “hang out.” 

“So uh… how have you been?” He found himself searching for something, anything, to say to you. You scoffed and sent him a glare. Obviously he had made the wrong choice. 

“How do you think I’ve been?” 

Jean cleared his throat. “Right uh…” 

Fuck it, he thought. 

“Listen, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you or make you feel isolated from anyone.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his, how did he know you felt isolated? He must have sensed your confusion because he quickly answered.

“You don’t hang out with anyone anymore. They miss you. I miss you.”

You frowned. “Jean… you’re the one who pushed me away. Not the other way around. I told you how I felt 

“I know!” He exclaimed before clearing his throat. “I know I did,” he mumbled this time. 

A silence fell between the two of you. 

“What can I say to make things better?” Jean pleaded. “Please.”

You gave him a sad smile. Truthfully there was nothing he could say. Your friendship- or whatever the fuck you’d call it was tainted.

“I miss you.” He stated again, firmer than before. “I wish I could- I just- I don’t know…” he fumbled over himself.

Your lip trembled ever so slightly. Why was he still here? Couldn’t he tell this was killing you? You glanced down at your lap, where your hands continued to fiddle with one another.

Jean kept his eyes trained on you, he seemed to be lost in thought.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled. “You’re my everything too ya know? I don’t know why I pushed you away. No… actually I do. I was scared. I still am. I’m fucking terrified of losing you guys. Sasha, Connie, you. Especially you actually. Every fiber of my being wants to just keep everything bad away from you, I want to protect you. I don’t want you to have to keep losing people you care about and selfishly enough I don’t want you to lose me. I want to be there for you. I want to be there when you wake up, when you go to bed, when you can’t sleep, everything. It’s so fucking stupid. We’re so young and yet we quite literally have the weight of the world on our shoulders. I just- I don’t know. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t pretend like you aren’t my everything too.”

A loss for words was an understatement of your current status. Jean had just done exactly what you had begged him to do previously. He let you in. Not only did he let you in but he practically just declared how he felt about you… to you. How long had he been feeling this way? Didn’t he realize you were scared too? 

He called out your name softly, getting your attention to focus back on him. You let out a shaky breath, slowly getting back to your feet. 

Now standing, you made your way over to where Jean stood. The tips of his ears a shade of pink that made him look breathtaking.

“I’m scared too ya know.” You spoke quietly, coming to stand in front of the boy.

“I know,” Jean sighed.

“Im terrified of losing you. Im terrified of losing anyone but god losing you… I don’t know what I’d do. I couldn’t bare it Jean.” 

Jean gave you a sad smile, his hand hesitantly coming to rest on your cheek. You let out a shaky breath. 

“I’m not going anywhere. I know I can’t promise you anything because god who knows what’s going to happen, but I promise I can try.”

“That’s all I could ever ask for.” Tears brimmed your eyes at Jean’s words.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead on your own. “You mean so much to me.”

“You mean so much to me as well.” You let out a soft laugh. Jean grinned hearing your laugh for what felt like the first time in forever.

The two of you stayed their for a moment before you broke the silence. “Are you going to kiss me yet or what?” You joked.

Jean let out a loud laugh, before shrugging. “I don’t knowwwww, should I?” he smirked, back to his original cocky attitude. 

You rolled your eyes, however the smile never fell off your face.

“Pucker up Kirstein.”

[julia-writes-things]

me when my fic passed 100 hits.

also me when my book. i love my book

[juliafied]

Face to Face

Chapter 4: When You're Smiling and Astride Me

Fandom: Hades

Pairing: Thanatos/Zagreus

Rating: Mature

Chapter(s): 4/5

Words: 8765

AO3

Summary:

Thanatos can’t remember the last time he went on a date that wasn’t with his email inbox, so Charon sets about rectifying the situation by making him a profile on a dating app. Sifting through guys who fish and tourists looking for one night stands, Thanatos comes across his childhood best friend, who he hasn’t spoken to since their strange parting as teenagers. Thanzag modern AU, online dating.

It would have been easier if Thanatos had changed. If he’d become full of himself, like the stereotype of the successful finance guy that he is, or if he’d become one of those weird conspiracy theorists that have been cropping up all around lately. That is, if their friendship had been one of convenient proximity and not of genuine connection.

But he’d been just the same. Self-deprecating, dry yet somehow still affectionate, quick to fluster at Zagreus’ teasing. Exactly as they’d been as kids, climbing with their sandwiches to the top of the hill overlooking the ancient ruins in their neighbourhood, laughing at the tourists with their funny hats and single-use cameras. Just a little taller. Better-spoken, maybe. No longer nervously tossing too-long bangs out of his eyes. He wishes… he wishes he’d asked him about the last seven years, about something other than a college fling that had clearly meant so little that Thanatos had barely remembered the guy’s name. About who he spends time with on the weekends, and if he has a favourite coffee shop closer to work. If he still likes to read everything he can get his hands on. Whether he's been in love.

Achilles nudges him out of his thoughts – the stranger has bought the three of them shots. “You alright, lad?”

“Not sure,” Zagreus says truthfully as the bartender expertly flips his bottle of tequila and fills three shot glasses to the brim. Achilles’ admirer flashes a smile in their direction that doesn’t extend to Zagreus. They’re passed three limes by the bartender, and a moment and a ‘cheers’ later, the alcohol has burned its way to a warm place in Zagreus’ stomach.

He watches as Achilles leans in close to yell in the stranger’s ear, whose hand has migrated to the back of the barstool, thumb grazing Achilles’ shoulder periodically, and this annoys him, though Zag’s not sure why. He finishes his other drink that’s mostly melted ice at this point, but the guy behind the bar is busy again, so he thumbs through the menu. Checks his phone – an email’s come in, from Athena thanking them for their hard work on the grant they’d submitted this afternoon, and a text that’s an overly formal but expected request for a catch up lunch from Meg. He swears she must have a reminder in her calendar. First Friday of the month, check on Zagreus. Scheduled, just like everything else in her life. He slides his phone back in his pocket just in time to order another drink, and before long a margarita is in front of him, ice-cold and beading with condensation. By the time he finishes it, Achilles’ new friend’s hand has made it off the back of the chair and onto Achilles’ waist. Zagreus scowls and taps him on the shoulder.

“Should we dance?”

The booze is thick and heavy in his limbs as they make their way slowly to the most densely-packed part of the club, closest to the speakers and the dense, hard bass that slams into Zagreus’ heart with every beat. He’s not a very good dancer, but Achilles is, moving with ease, catching more than a few eyes around him. Zagreus can’t say he’s never thought about it before, especially back when he first joined the lab, assigned to be mentored directly by basically a demigod in a dress shirt. Even now, as Achilles tosses his hair and shoots a smile over his shoulder, there’s a twinge of something in the pit of Zag’s stomach.

And that’s when he spots him.

Keep reading on AO3

[3xc3lsior]

I know you’ve probably been asked this so many times, and it’s probably super annoying, but I just started beLIEve and saw that it hasn’t been updated since 2022. I hope you’re doing ok, and even if the fic never gets completed, you did an amazing, wonderful, perfect job and you should be so proud of yourself!!!!! I have never felt so connected to people that only exist on page. Sending all the well wishes queen!! And I guess this isn’t even a question lol

AH baby you know what,.. life is hard I’m not gonna lie lol I’ve got two jobs and have to work on my professional writing endeavors in my spare time which has left me zero time for it. Which sucks bc it is my magnum opus. And I hate telling people that I do work on it, bc I do sometimes, but it’s never felt quite right?? Bc I always have other shit I need to do. Anyways long not-answer to your not-question, but I’ll work on it today for you even if all I can promise is a teaser paragraph or two

[feral-ballad]

Julia de Burgos, tr. by Jack Agüeros, from Song of the Simple Truth: The Complete Poems of Julia de Burgos; "Moments"

[Text ID: “Me, inside myself, / always waiting for something / that my mind can’t define.”]

[julia-writes-things]

it’s “psychosis” and I opened 4 tabs to research it 😭