#yeah yeah yeah ill write one this week but
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Hiya 👋🏻
It’s not really a kinktober request, but maybe you’ll consider doing it? No pressure though))
Ajaf era James, where he was drinking a lot. He understands that that affects him and turns him into a monster. He’s afraid he’s going to hurt reader, but he can’t break up with her for her safety, he loves her too much. So he comes up with stupid plan of making her break up with him because of his behavior? So he starts to undermine her efforts, e.g. the meals she cooks “could have been better”; makes fun of her simple 9-5 job , saying that’s she lucky she can have a relaxed job cause he’s earning most of the money and covering the bills. Although she’s hurt, she is staying as she loves him and thinks it’s the alcohol talking. James, realizing his plan doesn’t work, makes the final move: after they have sex one evening, he tells her that groupies do a much better job. That’s too much for her to take so she leaves him.
Unfortunately, after break up he feels even worse. Lars is worried so he interrogates him, and drunken James confesses. So Lars finds reader and locks her in the studio with James for them to reconcile (can we have smut here)?
Few weeks later when they start recording black album, James plays her a song (which will become nothing else matters), saying that it’s his way of telling everyone how much she means to him?
I’m sorry I can’t write short asks 🥲🥲🥹🥹
You are a great writer so I really hope this will become a story 🙏🏻
hihi!
and omg its here. took me 9 days to write it lmao but yeah
i cant explain how much I loved this idea pls marry me annon
also ~~~ means POV change (yes there is James and reader pov)
this fic has legit everything so I hope y'all enjoy it bc I busted my ass on it
some parts may be confusing idk
anyways
word count: 10623
warnings: mentions of achohol/drugs, death is mentioned, toxic relationship, break up, angst, smut, fluff, I'm prob forgetting smth
OR SO I THOUGH (1989)
It had been a rough couple months with James. I felt determined to help him with his only worsening alcoholism, though he only continued to shut me out. I could feel the guilt when he was around, but it didn't make him stop. I tried, I really did, encouraging him to talk to me, to help me help him.
It was the same sad scene every night. James would come home, probably around midnight, and I couldn't sleep without him next to me, so I was up, all those hours, wondering as I tossed and turned as to where he might be. All I knew is I was in for a scary time when he got back, but I eventually grew tough skin to deal with this. Understood that this wasn't safe for me, or him, and I stressed that so, so much to him, but James never understood. Well, he never told me he did. Maybe there was more going on in his heart I never knew about. But, of course, I could never discover as he would always close himself off so much.
It was another day where the cycle would repeat. I woke up at three am to the sound of James stumbling in, mumbling something under his breath before he plopped down on the bed beside me, and I knew well enough to hold my tongue, to not provoke him. I pretended I was asleep, which he believed, trying, or at least I think he was trying, to snuggly up next to me, but he had his back to me. His arms weren't around me. Maybe that's all I yearn for now, to be loved and held.
Once I could finally go back to sleep, I was awoken not much later by the sound of my blaring alarm. It was seven am, time to get ready for work. James is a heavy sleeper, he never woke up from my alarms, though I always rushed to turn them off, just in case they would wake him. Slipping out of bed with a groan, I observed his sprawled out body, his shoes still on. I'm glad he made it to the bed this night, as others he would end up on the couch, or in his car, or somewhere I had no idea of.
I pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, like a mother caring for her ill son on a school day. I slipped off his shoes, trying to get him more comfortable. I scurried towards the closet to grab my work clothes for the day before getting changed in the bathroom and rummaging through our medicine cabinet, finding some pain killers and then getting him a cold glass of water, leaving the items on our bedside table. I paused to watch over him as he slept, his slow, steady breaths that rose and fell from his chest. I loved him too much to change this lifestyle. I loved every part of him, and if this was part of him, then so be it. I'll help him get better. He loves every part of me, no matter what, right?
Or so I thought.
I slipped on my heels, walking into our messy kitchen, the sink filled with unwashed dishes James was supposed to do. But, he isn't well, so I must do them for him. After washing the dishes, I brewed coffee, poured myself a cup and left some for him and began to make breakfast. James had been off lately, different to how he already was off, but that slowly became part of our normal, so one new change did not stick out too much, but this one did. I don't know what it is. He just felt… lifeless, cold, I guess. I decided to make one of his favorite breakfast meals, a nice, warm and fluffy stack of pancakes with eggs and bacon, cooked just the way he liked it. I spent extra time trying to make it the best I had. I knew they would probably be cold by the time he woke up, but hopefully he'd appreciate my effort. I ate some eggs before scrambling for a notepad, getting a pen to write him a sweet good morning note, explaining I was at work, when I'd be home, how much I loved him, and where the other meds were if he needed them. I wrote these notes almost daily, but this one I made longer and more love filled. I figured he would want my love.
Or so I thought.
I came home around six pm, the evening traffic being worse than usual. Instead of seeing James' car out of the driveway and the house dark, he was still home. The soft sound of the TV buzzing was easy to hear as I unlocked the door, walking in to see him on the couch, leaning against the couch arm and holding his head up with his hand. He was too engrossed in whatever he was watching to nice me walk in, so I tried to have him notice my presence.
“Im back, Jamie,” I said softly to not startle him, my voice filled with love as I moved to sit next to him, he looked over at me, like a confused puppy. “How are you feeling?” I asked, gently stroking his back, though he moved from my touch.
“Oh, hi. Yeah, I'm fine. Busy right now, yeah?” He mumbled as a response as he resumed watching TV once more, brushing me off with his simple, cold words. I knew I had to respect his space and not probe at him, so I just nodded with a sigh and got up, slipping off my shoes and setting my bags down,
“Are you hungry?” I asked, digging through the fridge to get things to make dinner. He didn't answer. “James, are you hungry? I can make dinner,” I offered again, noticing the cleared plate that I had made him for breakfast, the note missing. I assumed he threw it away, just like the others. I never saw them in the trash cans, but after everything piles up, you can just assume. I heard James sigh from the couch, “Uh, yeah, sure, whatever. Breakfast was cold, so I threw most of it away anyways,” He admitted, and I felt a small ache in my heart. I thought he liked the dish since there was none left on his plate, but clearly he proved me different. Why I even put effort in these things, I don't know. THats a lie, I do. I love him, and want him to know it, to feel it. I should’ve been doing this as part of my own insecurities, but to make sure he knows I'm there for him, always.
I thought of what to make for dinner, seeing if he had eaten anything since breakfast, only finding empty beer bottles and a half eaten bag of chips. It was probably only the alcohol making him act like this. I decided to make steak with potatoes, something he normally liked and said I made pretty well. It was easy to make, and I know it was one of his favorites I made him, but normally I would wait for a bigger step in life, like celebrating something about the band, or something in my career, but I knew he deserved it still.
I finished after 45 minutes, preparing the plate to be gorgeous, something I wish I could hear from his lips for once. But, he loved me. I know he thinks I'm gorgeous, he wouldn't have to tell me. Right?
“Jamie, the food's ready, I made steak,” I said warmly with a smile, setting a dinner table for us. I didn't get a response, just a grunt as he stood from the couch and walked his near empty bottle of beer, finishing it off and grabbing another from the fridge. I sat at the table, waiting for him to come and join me. His eyes landed on the plate, pulling out the chair to sit down. I couldn't read his emotions, he didn't look too happy, but he didn't look mad. He just looked.. plain. James grabbed his fork and began to eat, the metal scraping against the porcelain plate, waiting for his nod of approval. It never came. He didn't talk, but not in a way like he was mad. He just didn't speak. But he didn't need to, he didn't need to say the things I knew already. I took a breath and began to eat, and it might've been one of the best I had cooked in awhile. Perfect tenderness, juiciness, seasoning, and cooked perfectly, something you could get at a restaurant, now in our home.
“What do you think, baby? I think it's pretty good, no?” I inquired, seeking the validation I craved from him. He just shrugged.
“It's fine, I guess. It could've been better.”
It shouldn't have hurt. It really shouldn't. He just didn't like the dinner I cooked. The dinner I poured my time into. The dinner I made was special. Special for him. But, what did I know? I doubt he meant it. That's why it definitely shouldn't have hurt. He was drinking. ITs just the alcohol making him act like this. He would never say something like that to me. Why did tears prick at my eyes. Why did it actually hurt?
“Oh, uhm…. I'm sorry, I'll do better next time, do you want me to make you something else..?” I choked out, fighting back my tears.
“No, don't waste your time making something mediocre, yeah?” James insisted, insulting me bitterly once again.
I took a shaky breath, another sting to my heart. Hes. Drunk. This can't be what he means, right?
Or so I thought.
“Alright, uh, do you wanna cuddle on the couch..? We can watch anything you want? Or not watch anything, just sit together.” I offered again, pleading to get love from my partner.
“I was probably gonna go to bed. You mind cleaning up?” He pushed me away again, and every word stung. I want him to see me, to notice me, just to love me. But I reminded myself again and again, he's drunk, he doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean it. I'm just being sensitive and pathetic. Maybe it's just my hormones.
I nodded, forcing a smile, “Sure, yeah, go ahead and go to bed, I'll clean up and join you in a bit, ok?” I informed him and he just nodded and got up, walking to the bedroom, still carrying his battle with him. My eyes stung, and once he was out of sight, I felt tears streak my face, but I continued to fight them away. I quickly got up to clear James’ and my own plate, then cleaning the kitchen, washing everything with great care to keep it tidy.
I came into the bedroom, James half asleep under the sheets. His hair was astray as he slept near the edge, his limbs tight together. The now empty beer bottle sat on the nightstand, another reminder of James’ habits. I glanced around before getting changed into my sleep clothes, a nice little night dress James had gotten me for Valentines Day earlier that year. It was nice and pink with some fluffy pieces at the bottom and lace dancing across it. It flowed nicely and hugged my body in the right places, going down to a bit above my knees. It had some other pieces, like stockings and a garter. In reality, it was more so lingerie than a bed set. But, it was one of James’ favorites for me to wear. Maybe this would make him open up more, or just show me the love I'm craving. I crawled in beside him, though I doubt he noticed the weight accompanying him, trying to cuddle closer, pressing myself against his back.
“Jamie?” I asked softly, kissing the back of his head.
“Hm.” James answered in a sleepy tone, barely aware of my presence.
“You doing ok? You've been acting differently…” I kept a quiet tone, my hands gently running down his arms and back as I pondered on what may be hurting him so much.
He took a deep and large breath, sighing, “Yeah, I'm fine… why do you ask..?” James mumbled in response.
“Nothing, you just seem off, I guess,” I rushed out. I didn't want to upset him, but he just seemed so soft and sweet, something I hadn't seen from him awhile.
“Oh, well, alright then… love you..” He mumbled out, slowly succumbing to sleep after saying the words I knew were true.
Or so I thought.
The office today was exhausting. Absurdly exhausting. And infuriating. A stuck up and snotty boss whos full of himself ordering me around to do his mundane dirty work, my co workers giving me side glances of judgment for my more rushed than normal appearance, not having as much time this morning as I had to help James with yet another hangover, getting him to the bathroom in time before he painted our bed green in vomit, making him some foods to keep him comfortable and having to buy more pain killers, my 3rd trip this month, all before heading to work. All I wanted was to come home, sleep, relax, and be held by the love of my life.
As simple as an office job 9-5 may seem, how it is not. No one else wants to do their own work, always needing some kind of assistance, and of course, I none the wiser, agree to help them.
It was another late evening with heavy traffic, not allowing me to come home until seven, again. I had stopped at the market, grabbing food and other supplies we were running low on. And more beer.
The door to the house was locked, something that had been happening more and more as I came home, only growing worries on James' worsening habits, the idea of drugs coming to mind, but I tried to shake it from my head, just wanting a nice time at home.
I unlocked the door, the house quiet except for the soft strum of a guitar in James’ mini studio, which was just an extra bedroom we had turned into a spot for him to store his instruments and for his practeing. We hoped one day for it to become a nursery, a room for our future child.
I followed the music, the half open door allowing me to peek at James, hunched over one of his explorers, fiddling with the strings as he danced around the fretboard with his talented fingers. I smiled at the sweet sight, slowly entering the room.
“Whatcha working on?” I asked, announcing my arrival home. James looked up at me, at first a smile on his face, but he quickly dropped it. His actions only confused me further.
“Uhm, not much, just… a couple riffs and stuff for the new album..” He answered, still picking at the strings with something unreadable in his eyes.
I nodded, smiling at him, “It sounds good, I'm excited to hear it,” I responded before speaking again, “Work was so exhausting today, I don't know how I put up with it anymore,” I said with a laughy sigh, trying to lighten the statement.
James just shrugged. “I mean, I don't really see how a nine to five can really be that tiring,” He disputed, but his tone sounded unsure, shaky like how it did when we first met. But there was a force, an anger of some kind.
I was even more lost with his shift in attitude, “Well, what do you mean? You don't work one, you wouldn't know,” I argued back with more aggression than I meant.
“Yeah, I don't work one. Your job is light and relaxing feather work compared to the shit I do. You are out doing twelve hours a day for months on end at a studio, being out for a year just to tour and shit, you don't make anything working that job, I'm the one paying the bills with my money.” James spat, cold and bitter. His words rung in my ears, repeating each syllable like a painful stab. My brain scrambled for reasons to understand his reaction and response to my complaint of work.
James' piercing blue eyes still starred up and me, my mouth agape in shock. Why would he act like this? He loved me. He just told me he did the other week before we went to bed. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. What is wrong in his life that I don't know about, that he wont tell me about.
My eyes scanned the room, searching for anything that might explain this behavior of his. Truly, anything that would help explain such a swift and sudden change in his mood, but deep down ZI knew, I was just looking for bottles, cans, cups, glasses, anything that would contain the fizzy and bitter liquid he loved. The only thing I could find was a half empty bottle, freshly opened next to the chair he sat in. That's it, that's why he's acting like this. He's just drunk. He doesn't mean it. He doesn't mean it.
Or so I thought.
Even with my new found reasoning, his words still hurt a great amount, the pain struggling to leave. A simple insult, just telling me how I don't work as hard as him, that my job isn't as crucial as his. I took a breath, trying to control and reign in my emotions before I could meltdown in front of him for such a stupid reason. Drunken words, not filled or backed by any true thoughts. Right?
But they do say drunk words are sober thoughts.
“I- well,” I tried to speak, but I couldn't come up with the words. What would I say? I didn't want to make him any more upset than he seemed to be, but I didn't want to submit to him so easily, especially after such disrespect. But I knew better. I don't lash out, I keep him happy. We will work this out together, we have to.
“I'm just gonna go to bed,” I muttered under my breath, fighting back tears that needed to spill out, James rude comments only adding fuel to the fire that had been burning in me all day. Not a fire of anger, passion or desire, but a fire of hurt. Once I shut the bedroom door behind me silently, I broke. The bottle shattered, and my tears overflowed my face, covering my mouth as I cried, trying to calm myself down as I got ready for bed at such an early hour, even forgetting to make James something for dinner.
It was my day off, a relaxing Saturday I could use to have some me time, as James was gonna be out with the band all day as the brainstormed for the new album, which was still taking its baby steps into production, nowhere near any concept for songs yet. At Least that I knew of.
James had been really tense this week, and I had tried everything to get him to relax and cheer up. Taking him out to his favorite restaurants after I came home, making him home cooked meals, getting him gifts and all things. Though there was one thing I hadn't tried. Sex.
I spent all day dolling myself up, wanting to be as bare and beautiful as possible for James. I shaved everywhere, leaving not a single trace of hair anywhere except for my head,, of course. I scrubbed every nook and cranny of my body, putting on James’ favorite set we bought together, doing my makeup just the way he liked it, lighting the candles he got for my birthday, and dousing myself in his favorite perfume I owned. All the lights were out, except for the lowlights of the candles in the bedroom. I laid on the mattress, waiting for James to come home, hoping this would finally get him to unwind from his stress.
I heard James’ keys jingle in the door, and I could feel myself getting more and more excited for his arrival. This would be one of the few times I would have him sober, as when they worked on material they rarely drank or did anything crazy, thankfully. His shoes thudded on the wooden floors, a sigh escaping his lips as I heard him slowly walk towards the bedroom.
“Are you home?” He called out to me before approaching the bedroom door, taking in the sight of me and the room I had spent the evening preparing for this moment.
“Hey baby,” I mused with a smirk, looking up at him with loving eyes. His eyes met mine, looking warm for the first time in awhile.
“What's all this for?” He asked, still taking in the well decorated bedroom and my sexy form.
“Wanted to help you relax… you've been so stressed,” I replied, grabbing his hand to try and bring him closer, to get into the bed with me.
It didn't take much more conniving, and James had given in pretty quickly to my offer. He was being more loud than normal, probably because we hadn't had the chance to be intimate like this in awhile. I loved this so much. Well, I loved being close to James again. He wasn't hitting the right spots or focussing on pleasuring me much, but that's fine, he's the one who needed to relax anyways, and I have enough time on my hands if I wanted to please myself, I guess. It didn't take long for him to come, pulling out and painting himself on my abdomen and my breath labored, coming down from…. Well, not an orgasm, but being close to one. James was beat after that, and I don't blame him for that. He had been so busy recently, I was happy we just got to share a moment like this together again.
I laid close to him under the sheets as we both recovered, James already half asleep. I had his hand in mine, kissing each knuckle of his and more, pouting all of my love into that moment. I looked up, having felt James’ eyes on me for a while. I met his blues, and there was a slight guilt in them, a gestation and regret. But, it didn't last long as he blinked it all away, taking another breath.
“How are you feeling now? Did it make it any better?” I asked, my voice heavy with sleep as I lazily continued to press kisses to his hand.
“I mean, yeah, I guess… It wasn't like, amazing though… I've had better, normally the groupies can do a bit more than that, y’know?” James said cooly, acting as if the words he just said didn't mean anything and had no weight to them.
“What?” Was all I could muster out, the tears already filling my eyes as I tried to process all of this.
“You heard me, the groupies normally do better.”
The words came so normally from his mouth, as if he was just telling me the date and time. But no, he was comparing me to prostitutes, previous women he has slept with. I began to cry, not just out of hurt and sadness, but this time anger. How could he say something like that to me?
And then the worst part hit.
He was sober.
Something I would've wanted more than anything else just a few days ago is now what is causing this experience to be even worse than it is with the horrible comparison and insults James had spewn at me. He meant it. Alcohol was toying with his brain, making him into the aggravated man I had grown to know quite well over the years.
“Are… are you serious? After everything? I put myself through hell to deal with this, to go to work, to do EVERYTHING for you! I have tried so hard James. And Yet you still compare me to them?! Sluts with prices on their heads?!” I cried, anger and hurt filling the fire in my eyes, and I could swear I saw Jamw\es’ cold attitude falter for just a moment. Maybe it was what I was hoping for, that it was all an act, that he truly did love me deep down, but maybe he didn't. Maybe this is the truth I had been hiding from all these months.
James didn't res;ond, just sighing with a shrug.
That's what pushed me over the edge.
“Are you fucki ng serious? You're not even gonna try and fight for this? Get out of here! We're done. Since you don't appreciate anything I do for you nowadays, I don't want you in here anymore. Pack your shit and leave.” I cursed at him as I continued to sob, processing the moments that passed, feeling as if the earth was slowing, each second hitting me hard and heavy.
I could see a slight guilt in James’ eyes, and as much I wanted to believe it was true, I couldn't give it in myself to do that anymore. I couldn't keep living this lie. He nodded, staying silent as I cried, slipping on his clothes and grabbing some things he'd need for the night.
“I loved you because you loved me, or so I thought you loved me, truly you don't give a shit!” I called out again, hearing James breath hitch at my harsh words, but he just left. No goodbye, the final words spoken to us only filled with hate and hurt, though millions went unspoken.
— —- — —> A FEW MONTHS LATER…
Not a lot has happened since I broke up with James, but a lot has changed. Maybe for the better. I miss him terribly, but a lot of weight is off of my shoulders now. I'm no longer worrying about having to make elaborate meals for him, or to do everything in my power to make him happy as [possible, watching my words at all times to make sure I wont say anything that might upset him. It was a large change. The house is still cold like how it was with him, but its a different kind of cold. There is no warmth of another body. Its quiet, no more TV static and laughter or guitar. Work had only gotten more tiring, but I had recently gotten promoted, something I had wanted for a long, long time.
I haven't spoken to James since we broke up. I know he had come by the next day, as when he left that night he only took clothes to last him the night, and when I came home from work, all of his belongings were gone, and his spare key was left on the counter, all of his music gear out of the house, leaving me a now empty room, not to house his guitars, and no longer holding the hopes and dreams of a future child.
Or so I thought all of his stuff was gone.
I came home after work, the house dark and silent, turning on the lights before going into the former music room, which had now become my office for the time being, as I needed one for the promotion, to be able to have a comfortable spot where I could do other work tasks from home. I set down my purse, sitting in my computer chair and sliding off my heels. I saw something in the corner of my eye, something that somehow had never caught my eye all these months.
An ashtray, repurposed to hold James’ many guitar picks. It was behind a lamp that was in the corner of the room on an end table. There was more than just guitar pics, but one of his rings. Like the ones he always wore on stage, the cool reflective metal that shone brightly under the spotlight. I paused, only having gotten one heel off, so confused as to how I never noticed. I sat in this same chair, facing the same direction, taking my heels off the same each day. I quickly got the other off before walking towards the table, picking up the ashtray, having remnants of cigarette butts and ash, some of which covered the pics. There had to be at least 20 of those pics, I don't know how James could forget such a thing, along with one of his more favorite rings. He wore it when we met, but I never made the connection as to that being the reason he left it. I missed him, yes, but having these almost made it worse. Like the world was teasing me that he is gone, that I won't be able to be held by him again, because he doesnt love me anymore. How I still love him, I don't know. Part of me still wants to believe he never meant any of it, but the chances of that being true is slim now. But, I didn't have the heart to call him, to return them to him. He would have come to get them by now, right?
I picked up the cold metal, holding it in my hand before slipping it on my ring finger. It was too large, slipping off quite easily. I tried the next, my middle finger, and it fit well enough to not fall off. It felt so wrong to wear, but it made me feel closer to him. I hated it, but I loved it. A little piece of him to be with me always. ‘God, I sound like a wife mourning her husband who died in a war.’ Was all I could think to myself, setting back down the ash tray and taking off the ring before sitting back down in my office chair, trying to shake my head of the matter so I could focus on the important task at hand, work.
I spent about two hours on the assignment before finishing it among other things, now exhausted even further. I stumbled towards the bedroom, changing into my pajama pants and a sleep shirt. Since the break up, I have refused to wear or even look at the clothes sJames had bought me. I didn't feel any desire to wear those things now that I knew he would be the one to see me in them. I never really wanted to wear clothes like that, but knowing he liked it made me like it. Now that he's gone, so is that enjoyment. I layed down on the mattress, sinking down as it swallowed me and the day whole. I had gotten used to the loneliness of sleeping alone, even after having a body next to me for the last four years. Maybe it was an easier adjustment as towards the end it was like sleeping next to no one.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The last few months are hard to describe. I can't explain it, I really can't. I've never been more lonely in my life, drowning all of my sorrows in the bitter bottles that wasted away each night and day. I've tried putting my energy elsewhere, focusing more on the band than I was earlier, trying to pour my emotions into guitar and lyrics, but nothing works. Nothing matches what I once had. What I threw away. What I ruined. Though, all my life, through all my struggles, there was one thing I learned.
Mask your emotions, hide your turmoil. It's something I had quickly gotten good at from a young age.
Or so I thought.
I went out for drinks with Lars to discuss lyrics and other parts of music for the record, as we normally had for our other productions and everything. We had another few weeks before we went into the studio, where we planned to record for many months, wanting this release to be the best we ever had.
Before I had even gone out to the bar with Lars, I had already had a few bars at home, or what I had tried to make into my home. It was a home, yeah, but it didn't feel homey. There was no warmth or touch to it to make it seem whimsical or joyful. I know I have a problem, but what is there I can do.
When I got there, Lars’s car was already outside, and I knew I was late by thirty minutes, having to build up the motivation to leave the house for a reason other than food, so trying to get up and socialize and talk about important stuff was not on my top choices to do.
I trudged in, my eyes darting around for the Danish, who was never that hard to find. And as I expected, I found him somewhat quickly, taking a seat next to him and ordering a drink for myself.
“Hey man, where the fock have you been? Been waiting here ages for ya,” Lars commented with his laugh, sipping on his own drink.
I just shrugged, “Sorry man, there was just…” I tried to think of a reasonable excuse, but none could come to mind. “Traffic, y’know, it gets bad around five or six, all those people getting off of work,” I explained, thinking I was an expert at this facade.
“Alright, whatever you say. Let's get to work now, yeah?” Lars tried to believe me, but it was clear he knew there was something more to what I said.
I just nodded, “Yeah,” I answered, and Lars took out his notepad where he already had some ideas for songs. The mask was as strong as stone, no way to see in.
Or so I thought.
Lars looked back to me, a thought popping back in his mind, “Traffic? There's normally not much in this area, I mean before you moved out of that place, shit, traffic was bad, but here? No way,” Lars questioned me, no longer believing a word I had said.
“Well, I guess it was just different today…” I muttered, “Let's just start now, leave it be,”. Lars agreed reluctantly, and soon we were sharing ideas sas I jotted down lyrics, Lars taking turns as we debated on the new project.
Of course, as we worked, we were drinking. Me more than him, and it was getting me tipsy, and then drunk. Normally we wouldn't get drunk during lyric writing, just a bit.. Wobbly, I guess. We were just reviewing the lyrics for the third song we were jotting up and I had ordered another drink.
“Jesus man, you only focused on drinking? We got shit to do!” Lars complained to me, and I just shrugged. “Sorry, got my priorities here…” I joked, and Lars only gave a pity laugh.
“Is something up? You've been acting weird as hell for the last few months. We barely see you anymore, and when we do, you're late.” He informed me firmly, clearly not wanting to put up with my demeanor much longer.
“I'm fine, didn't I already tell you that?” I responded, and at this point I just wanted to go home. “Well, you can tell me it a million fuckin’ times and that doesnyt mean Ill believe you,” He rebuttled, and I sighed. “So, what's up with you?”
I didn't want to answer, well sober me would've deflected. But drunk me? He doesn't have much of a filter. Who does when they're drunk anyways?
“Nothings up with me, just dealing with shit…” I answered, taking another sip of my drink.
“Ok, well dealing with what?”
“The breakup, and everything,” I answered, my eyes avoiding Lars’s own.
“Ohh, yeah, I see. What happened anyways? You never went into detail, just saying she kicked you out in the middle of the night. The fuck did you do to her?” He laughed, but the sting of the memories still remained.
“I.. well, I told her she was a shit cook, lazy, didnt work as hard me, and that groupies fuck better,” I admitted. Lars' face changed from a small smile to a look of shock.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah”
“What would make you say something like that?! That's totally messed up!” I knew this would be shocking, especially coming from me to say something like that. But I didn't expect him to be this shocked.
“No, I did it for a reason, I'm not just some asshole! I didn't want to break up with her, and I didnt want her to break up with me, but I knew I had to get her to break up with me. I keep drinking, and it makes me into… I don't know, I'm a different person and I don't want to hurt her. The only option was to force her to break up with me.” I tried to explain, but Lars was quick to respond.
“Only option?! Have you heard of rehab? Getting help? Did she just let you waste away?”
“I didn't want to go to rehab either, and no, she did try to help, but I don't want help…” It was getting embarrassing at this point, showing how weak I had become.
“James, not everything is about what you want! There's things you need to do, but you don't want to. Those are just as important.” He paused, hoping my worlds would process through me as he thought of an idea. “How about this, clean up your act a bit and I'll get her back over here and you can go back to paradise, alright?” Lars offered and I perked up a bit.
“How the hell do you expect her to come back to me after all of that?”
“I never said she'd come back to you, I said I can get her over here, make you guys talk or something.” He corrected me, and I just rolled my eyes.
“Well how are you gonna get her to come here? She probably hates me at this point,”
“I have my ways, we were closer friends than you probably remember,” Lars’ words didn't help. He could never explain his plan, and that's what always ticked me off about him.
“Fine, whatever, work your midget magic or something,” I muttered under my breath.
“What did you just say to me?”
“Nothing, nothing, just do whatever it is, alright?”
“Fine.”
— — — — > A WEEK LATER…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Time moves slow these days. But not in a bad way, it was nice that life was hitting the breaks a bit instead of the pedal. Though, that joy wouldn't last long.
I sat in my office chair at work, working on some papers my boss had handed me a few minutes ago. He was giving me stack after stack after stack of papers today, all coming with my promotion I got a bit back. More money means more work, and more work means more money, so I guess it isn't all too bad in the long run. I glanced up from my paper, eyeing the now double repurposed ashtray, one being made for the intents of cigarette butts, then guitar pics, and now it held my keys and some other trinkets, including one singular guitar pic of James, one of his favorites.
I was startled out of my thoughts by hearing the office phone ring, quickly reaching to grab it, assuming it was a customer call.
“Hi, this is Capital Advisors, how can I help you?” I offered in a cheery tone, but the voice I heard response was not what I had expected.
“Hey man, look, it's Lars, something happened to James, you mind heading down to the studio?”
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Sure, Lars and I were close, but we haven't talked much since James and I’s break up. My words caught in my throat, processing the second half. “Something happened to James? What happened? Is he ok?” Even though he proved himself worthy of a break up, I still couldn't shake my love and worry for him.
“Uhhhh, yeah, no, sure he's fine, but you just needa come to the studio?” Lars rambled, not sure how to keep up his lie.
“Ok, yeah, of course, when do I need to be there?” My mind was racing, Lars wasn't being direct with what happened, so my mind could only think of the worst. He always poland things off to make them not seem as bad as they were. What if James fell and hurt himself? Overdosed on something? Only darker thoughts hit my mind.
“Like, now, this can't wait,” Lars demanded, and I had no choice but to agree.
“Yeah, I will be there as soon as I can, ok? Tell him I’ll be there soon, I don't want him to worry,” I gave in and then Lars thanked me and hung up.
Now I don't know what to do. My boss wasn't the type of person to just let me leave whenever I want, and I had already promised to Lars I would be there immediately. Though, my worries got the best of me and I quickly began to gather my stuff together. I grabbed my keys and my purse, quickly heading to my boss's office.
I always hated going in here, it was freezing since the AC was always blasted, and it reeked of musty air freshener. I gently knocked on the door before I heard his baritone voice respond, telling me to come in. I entered, seeing him sitting there, filing papers.
“Can I help you?” He said in a monotone voice, opening and shutting cabinets.
“Yes, I need to leave, like right now. ITs an emergency, family matter,” I tried to briefly explain, but it didn't take long for him to come up with a new response.
“Emergency? Of what? Is someone dying?” His eyes looked up from his papers, meeting mine as he waited for an answer.
“I… Well, I don't know,” I muttered, and it was true, I really didn't. With Lars’ vagueness, I tru;y didn't have a reason to not assume James was already on his deathbed.
“How can you not know?” He questioned me as if I was stupid, then noticing my pale and shaky look of true worry, “Fine, yes, you can go, but you're leaving three hours early. I want you working those hours back tomorrow. Understood?” He finally made an offer, and I quickly accepted without hesitation.
“Yes, thank you, and I'm sorry,” I responded with a smile and a nod, quickly leaving the office and getting to my car as fast as possible. Lars never specified where exactly the studio was, but I had been there a few times with James to hear them practice and record. I did my best to remember the way there, speeding in some places and having to make a couple U turns to figure out the exact spot. The whole time my head was buzzing, I could not think of one normal reason as to why James would want me there. He clearly didn’t like me much towards the end, even though I still like to think he never meant it and that it was only the alcohol talking, but I was probably wrong. Why did I still care so much after being so wrongfully disrespected? Part of me still loved him. Still wanted to wake up next to him every morning, hear the faint strumming of a guitar whenever I came home from work. Now those days were gone, and never looked like they would return. I still worried for the worst for James, endless horrid possibilities arising in my brain, all trying to piece the puzzle together.
When I finally pulled up, I saw two other cars out in front, not seeing James’ car, assuming Lars gave him a ride and KIrk giving Jason one. No cop cars or ambulances or fire trucks, so he isn't dying, or maybe they already left. Maybe I was too late?
I quickly got out of the car, almost running to the studio door, knocking until Lars came and opened it for me.
“Hey! There you are, took ya long eno-” Lars was quickly cut off by my own anxieties.
“Where is he? Is he ok? Was I not fast enough?” I quickly voiced out, my eyes darting around the inside and searching for him.
“Yeah, relax. He's fine. He's inside-”
“If he's fine then why did you make me come here from work?! I thought he was dying or something crazy,” I cut him off, questioning his efforts.
“No, none of that, you worry too much. He just wants to talk with you,” Lars answered, and my previous worries and a new suspicion grew in me.
“Just want to talk? Last time I talked with him he was critiquing me! He hates me! He doesn't want anything to do with me!” I voiced the feelings that had been clawing at me for months, never having anyone to tell them to.
“Or so you think. Look, just talk to him, that's all this is, ok?” Lars grew tired of my attitude and clearly I would have to give in soon.
“I want to, I want to talk to him, but I doubt he wants to talk to me,” I responded, trying to further explain my hesitations.
“I just told you that he wants to talk to you! Go in there, please!” Lars pleaded with me, and I sighed, finally agreeing.
“Ok, ok, I will,” I answered, beginning to head into the studio.
“Thank you! He's just down the hall, in that room with the sound equipment and everything,” Lars informed me, and I followed him, seeing James hunched over a table, scribbling down on a piece of paper. My heart was racing now. I hadn't seen him since that night. I didn't know what I would say to him, I was worried what he would say to me.
Then he looked up at me.
His cold, piercing blue eyes, a newfound softness in them as our eyes met. I avoided his eyes, but felt his lingering on me. Lars guided me in, shutting the door behind himself, leaving us alone. I was unsure of what to say, my eyes lingering on the floor, hearing James set down his pen.
“Uh… hi…” He started, probably just as unsure as I was.
“Hi,” I responded back shyly, avoiding his gaze, though I could still feel his own on me. The sound of footsteps approached me, instantly recognizing them as James’, and then I heard a click. Lars had locked us in here, now forced to talk.
“I.. I'm sorry, I really am,” He mumbled, and I looked up at him, seeing a true guilt in his eyes, “I wish I didn't do it, that I didn't say those things, that I didn't make you hurt so much like that… I should’ve been much more, well, mature about it. I feel like shit for everything,” James explained to me, but this only caused me to have more and more questions.
“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice still a hushed whisper as a wave of various emotions crashed down on me. “I had reasons for what I did, I just wish I went about it differently. I wish I had listened to you when you had offered me help. I didn't want to hurt you with my habits, and I couldn't break up with you, I didn't want to be the one to do that, so… so I tried to make you break up with me, and you did. Everything I said, it was a lie. I never meant it. You're a great cook, you work hard, you're just… you're amazing, you're too good for me.” James confessed, and I could feel a bit of the cold melt away, though still a hurt in my heart.
“Then why make me come and tell me all of this? This would only pour salt in that wound, no?” I was still confused at why he would make such an effort, but I still found it touching.
“Because I still love you. I want things back the way they were. I swear on everything, I've changed. I miss you more than anything-” I cut him off with a sweet kiss to his lips, and he melted into me, wrapping his arms around me in a comforting and loving embrace.
After James pulled away, he looked me in my eyes, “How could you forgive me for saying all of that to you?” He began, “Id think you would just… hate me, I was a total jerk,”
“Or so you'd think. I still love you and miss you more than you could imagine,” I responded with a small smile, and James matched mine, kissing me again. “Can… can I show you how much I've missed you?” James asked in a mumbled tone, clearly a bit embarrassed. My cheeks heated up at his offer and I giggled, nodding as our lips met a third time, a new hunger and desire now displayed. Slowly, he walked me to the table until I had backed up into it, his hands trailing up my sides until we broke away, his lips now going down my neck, eliciting a needy whine from the back of my throat, my hands pulling him closer, snaking under his shirt to trace his skin.
James’s fingers slipped under my shirt, working to get it off of my head, leaving my neck for only a second to remove the fabric before attaching himself to my sensitive flesh, feeling him suck and nibble, definitely leaving bruises. He gave a more harsh bite, causing me to whimper, then soothing it over with his tongue before pulling away. Soon his gaze focused on my breasts, still confined with my bra. His eyes met mine again, “Can I take it off?” He asked ,already reaching around my back to work on the clasp, which had become an easy task for him. I nodded, and soon the garment was now on the floor with my shirt. The cold air caused my nipples to erect immediately, and James’ eyes were locked on them, cupping the in his hands as he squeezed them and pinched at my nipples, making me make high needy sounds, causing him to smirk, kissing around the soft flesh, teasing me with every movement he made.
I began to claw at his shirt, trying to take it off of him, so he reluctantly pulled away from my chest, removing his own shirt, giving me a view I had missed more than I care to admit. My eyes dragged slowly over the newly exposed skin, and his lips crashed down on mine again, pushing me back so far I was now laying down on the table, the cold wood causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. I tugged at James’ pants, feeling myself grow wetter at the moment. He slipped down his pants, leaving him in only his boxers as you pulled down my skirt, leaving me in only my panties. I could see the bulge in his final layer grow at the new sight, and then he got on his knees, gripping the sides of my aunties and taking them off in a swift motion, leaving my glistening folds exposed to his hungry view.. His warm lips teased my thighs, kissing around the area I needed him most, making me writhe with desire. Eventually, his tongue found my center, giving it soft licks at first, parting my folds with his tongue. A moan escaped my throat, and James took it as his sign to keep going, burying his face between my thighs. He licked and sucked at my hole, probing at it with his tongue as his nose nudged my sensitive clit. My hand snaked into his long blonde locks, gripping his scalp tightly as I pulled him closer. I could hear him groan into my flesh, causing a vibration to coarse through me, making me moan again as I came closer to my first high. Eventually James moved further up, giving more attention to my aching clit, giving it gentle licks first to tease me before sucking it into his mouth, biting it softly, making me squeal from his ministrations.
“Jamei, fuck, Im gonna cum,” I whined out, tugging on hair harder, causing him to let out another low groan as he continued to feast on me. “Cum for me pretty girl,” He mumbled into my flesh, and like that my orgasm washed over me, a breathy moan falling my lips, feeling my core pulsate , releasing my grip on James’ head, allowing him to pull back.
James chin was drenched in my essence and his spit, some caught in his facial hair, wiping it off on the back of his hand. I dont think Ive seen anything hotter. His eyes landed on mine, and I noticed a lustful darkness in them, kissing me again as our tongues tangled in a battle for dominance, James winning in the end, and soon his boxers were on the ground, both of us bare in front of each other again.
JAmes broke the kiss, trailing his lips down my neck, leaving new hickeys and bruises in his wake as they now peppered my neck. I felt his tip at my entrance and I squirmed, his lips leaving my bruised flesh. “You ready, baby?” He asked, taking my hand in his, and I nodded, feeling him slowly push into me, the stretching sensation stinging my insides, a delicious stretch my body had missed as I tried to accommodate his size. Once he was to the hilt, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, squeezing his hand tightly.
I gave him a look of a need, and he gook note, slowly beginning to pump his hips, untwining our fingers as he positioned himself with better support, placing his arms on either side of my head. With every thrust a moan escaped my throat, tears pricking at my eyes from the pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so tight… haven't had anything since me, hmmm?” James whispered to me, and I could only whine in response, his calloused fingers sneaking down to my clit, brushing the bud lightly with the pad of thumb, and I began to squirm around his cock, feeling his thrusts increase with speed, more grunts falling from James.
The table I laid on creaked beneath from our frevorus movements of need, completely forgetting we were still in the studio. The band was still in that studio. This room wasn't for recording, very little sound blockers. Anyone in this building could hear us. The thought didn't pass my mind once throughout the whole experience, only focused and becoming closer with James once again, not just in body, but in our connection reforming with every minstration from either of us.
James' thrusts grew relentless, only increasing the pleasure for both of us as he chased his own high, helping me with mine, continuing to toy with and stroke my clit, moans and whines leaving me with any movement he made. “So pretty like this, baby, taking me so well,” He groaned, his small grunts and moans filling my ears like sweet music. I began to buck my hips, knowing that my orgasm was approaching, James not far behind, his vocal expression of pleasure growing in number and volume, mixing with my own mewls and moans, that and the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room, my nails clawing his back.
My eyes began to roll back, James’ name falling from my lips a thousand times as my legs wrapped around his waist, trying to pull him deeper to finally bring me to edge. James noticed and thrusted harder, hitting that special spot with every movement, making me have to cover my mouth with my hand, the unholy noises escaping me growing too loud for us to stay secret. James disapproved, “Mmmm, don't do that baby, let me hear you cum around my cock,” He cooed, and that was all the encouragement I needed to come over the edge, a high pitched moan coming from me, feeling my walls clamp down on James’ length, pulsating as waves of pleasure cascaded over me. James helped me ride through it, still rubbing my sensitive nub, his thrusts losing rhythm as he approached his own high.
“Fuck, sweetie, gonna cum inside you…” He grunted, his pace increasing as his movement became erratic with pleasure. “Take it, take it like a good girl, baby,” He moaned, his load shooting deep inside of me and painting my walls white with his seed. His hips sputtered, bucking into me as he collapsed on top of me, our sweaty foreheads clinging together as we both recovered from the intense orgasms, trying to catch our breath. James pressed soft, lazy kisses around my face, reminding me how much he loved me and how he'd never hurt me again if given the chance.
After a moment, we both had come down from our highs, James’ softening member sliding out of me with a pop. He looked down at the mess between my thighs, all evidence of our pleasure with each other. “Youre fuckin’ perfect,” He muttered, his eyes dragging over me.
“Are the groupies still better?” I teased him, remembering our bickering that was one real, or so I thought it was real fighting.
“Oh, hell no, they don't stand a chance to this,” He responded with a smile, and I smiled back.
We cleaned up, slipping back on our clothes so we were somewhat presentable. Only now did the realization that we were never once alone in this studio and the rest of the band was outside had hit me. A wave of embarrassment flowed over me, my cheeks flushing even more than they were before given the previous activities. Both James and I looked quite disheveled, our hair a mess and clothes wrinkled. I tried to shake off whatever nervousness I had in me as James put his arm around me. We went to reach for the door handle, only to find out it was still locked. Now it would be even more awkward. James knocked on the door from the inside, calling out to Lars, or anyone else in the studio.
“Guys? Lars? Can someone unlock the door?” And it wasn't long before footsteps approached, hearing a key click as the door swung open, Lars, more curious than ever eyed both my own and James’ appearance, noticing the hickeys, the slight wobble I gave, and any other imperfections that we might have displayed.
“I take it you two worked things out?”
— — — — > A FEW WEEKS LATER…
It had taken some time, a lot of talking, and more than just one hook up for James and I to work out any other issues that we had with each other. We met up a lot in the recent weeks after that, discussing different ways on how to help James with his drinking, and just trying to regain eachothers trust.
Soon enough though, James had moved back in with me. I kept my office space, but now the room was split in two halves. I worked in one half, while James did his guitar work in the other half. It was a fairly large room, so we both had our own spaces and rarely bothered each other. If I had a work call or anything that required silence, James would just migrate to the living room.
It was the same old schedule we had all those months ago, and I was now returning from work. It was Friday, now I would have plenty of time to relax and be with James. I pulled into the driveway, parking and getting out of my car as I walked up to the porch, the click of my heels following my steps on the cement. The lights were on, the door unlocked. I could hear a faint strumming coming from inside, meaning James was hard at work on new material for the album. It was my favorite thing to listen to while doing work assignments at home.
I walked in with a huff, setting down my purse and keys on the counter before heading to the shared office space. James wasn't playing much, just sounded like scales and chords for his warm ups. “How was work, baby?” James greeted me, still focused on his guitar. “It was a bit tiring, but it was good. I think my boss is starting to like me,” I answered, settling into my chair. He nodded in response, going back to fiddling with the strings.
It wasn't until a little later a soft, sweet and melodic tune had hit my ears. Much different than what Metallica normally plates. James hummed along to it, almost like he had lyrics already written out. But knowing him, he probably did.
“What are you playing? It sounds really nice,” I started, listening to a few more notes before continuing, “It's not what you guys normally play,” I commented, and James let out a deep hum in response. “Just something new I'm working on,” He replied, and I nodded, getting back to work.
Only this time, I couldn't focus. Normally James’s music helped me to focus, becoming a comforting background noise. This time though, I couldn't get my mind off of that melody. He kept going, and each second I kept getting more and more captivated by it.
“That songs really pretty, I like it,” I said, scribbling down whatever notes I couldnt on a piece of paper. “Thanks, it's actually, uhm..” He trailed off, and I knew something was up. I spun around in my chair, going to face him. “It's what?” I asked, confused by his shy demeanor.
“It's called ‘Nothing Else Matters’,” He stated, finally stopping picking at the strings. “Nothing Else Matters?” I repeated, connecting whatever the lyrics might be in my head to the melody. Normally their slower, melodic songs were dark and heavy topics, so I expected the same with this one.
“Yeah,” James answered, “I wrote the lyrics about you, actually,” He muttered softly, though I still picked it up. “About me?” I questioned, slightly shocked. “Yeah… I've thought a lot about, well, everything recently. Ever since that point a few months back I've reflected and everything… Rumors spread, and I just want everyone out there to get the right idea,” He paused, searching for the right words, “I want people out there to know that you're all I care about, you mean more than the world to me, and I want everyone to know that,” He stated, his tone true and emotional. I had never heard him say sweeter words to me, and I knew that he was speaking nothing other than the truth, I could see it in his eyes, there's a way to read people, and James wasn't easy to read, but you soon could learn the lingo.
“That means a lot to me, Jamie,” I answered, smiling at him. I got up from my chair to sit next to him on the couch, leaning against him. “Thank you,” I said, kissing him on the cheek. “You don't need to thank me, sweetheart,” James responded, wrapping his arm around me.
And now, I knew my whole world was whole again. What was once hatred, or so I thought was hatred, was once again love, everything as it should be.
#metallica fanfiction#j4h7#metallica smut#metallica x reader#james hetfield smut#james hetfield x you#James hetfeild x reader]#James hetfield#metallica#Metallica fanfic#this is so long#I love you annon#James hetfeild fanfic#megadeth#metal#Metallica x you
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we need more fics about men putting their huge warm hands on your abdomen to soothe cramps
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does anyone wanna draw me a snailsona i'll write you whatever you want 🙏
#PLSPLSPLSPLS#i want one so bad i've been doodling ones on my notes for the entire week but they're all SO BAD#i have the whole design in my head PLZZZZ SOMEONEEEEEE#literally ill write u whatever u want. x reader? done. self-insert? hell yeah. super rare pair ship that no ones ever heard of? IM DOWN!!!#PLEASE!!!!!!#nya talks#trafficblr#hermitblr#take me up on this offer someone please please please
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bread and circuses.
#i am about to write tags that are so long#sorry. ahem#was thinking about ideas for the pds2 designs. realized that i had not drawn#ashe (well i did once) or the trickster. went “oh ill do that real fast. wont take long. they dont need an s2 design”#looked at official designs (which i had never done ???) went “huh ??” cause they did not line up with my brain At All#took half a week to put those brain designs on paper. now we are here.#yeah i always thought the trickster was a clown/jester or clown adjacent#but some of this shit is just made up ima be real <3#i had fun drawing it tho !! hope you had fun. looking at it ??? yeah#feel free to ask me about design things teehee#n e ways#jrwi#jrwi pd#ashe winters#jrwi trickster#( <- do people use that one or the other one)#jrwi fanart#✦ the king draws !!
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into the deep end - 29k T orufrey fic.
the sweet oblivion of the victim, the poisoned freedom of the other.
for one moment - it had felt like two parts returned - the needed reunion of two disparate halves. no more secrets, no more pain.
the moment you get to give back what you never wanted to take. that moment, under the night-blooming flowers, when they had both let out the same single broken sigh of relief.
but they were never whole to begin with, were they?
qifrey swore he wouldn't say 'sorry' to this man any more if he could help it - sorry is cheap now. he didn't want to be in a position ever again where you only have 'sorry' left. so he just looks down into the threads of his blanket, strains his eye until it hurts, feeling his insides - his throat, heart and head - burn with pain. he expects more, but olly says nothing.
olly says nothing.
#witch hat tag#orufrey#ok first this drawing isnt right im too tired..i couldnt draw for a week bc i was WRITINGGG and now i dont even know how..#im changed....... why would you write a 29k fic? WHY??? and i wanted it to be 30k because qifrey (spoilers) turns thirty in it.#and that's important to me...and yet it's 29.4k. there's a point where it's just like. i cannot any more. it is what it is. goodbye#it's about memory trauma..disability..birthdays..mental illness..living in a grave since you were born since you died since it happened#and crawling and crawling and crawling back to the place where you left him#uh yeah feel free to give it a read! i literally dont know if a single person will read it and enjoy it and tell me LOL#i've realised long fics do not get read as much lol. but! it's separated into 4 parts ok! you could read one part and then take a break.#just saying. also i hate editing. if there are any more typos ill flip my lid. no-one tell me.#god i love witch hat and qifrey and orufrey and oru#there's girls and background ermicia and garuato but i was so vague about so much cause i had to be peace out#btw being ace is critical to me and informs everything i write.
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I think I have mental issues
#sugar rambles#sugar gets ns!w!#me and my ex are starting all the way over#yeah?#yeah okay#still cant stop thinking of him shoving my thighs to my chest and telling me no one else can have me#or when he asks who my 🐱 belongs to#like you obviously LMFAO#i just wish things were simpler#on one hand were making good progress starting over I think#on the other#i want him to babytrap me for even wanting to be friends in the first place#maybe ill write it out idk#miss your dick nerd boy ☹️#ITS 5AM ☹️☹️☹️☹️#is this hell (ovulation week)#strike me down#nerd boy
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oops! all wips
#dndads#1st img is morgan . tried to solidify the type of person that would marry glenn & jodie and its like#manic pixie dream girl meets wife under bedsheets. fun loving carefree extremely irresponsible i imagine shes as much a bad mom as glenn is#a bad dad#close family dinner for each day of the week#i imagine its very depressing cool for kids sad for adult/college life meals#i had like a pmv/animatic of tmbg erase to nicks everything but ill never finish it sadge!#comic in the middle i was gonna do like a immediately after the final where willys defeated and schools out for summer norm and scary run#into eachother while theyre walking home#and scary would ask whats wrong and normal would be like#well knowing that the entire world ended because of me has been sort of weighing#on me yeah“ and then scary would go ”normal...do you wish that *was* the reason?“ which would lead normal getting dumbstuck cuz she hits#the nail on the hammer. and then hes incredibly defensive and hes like uh b buh NO !!! MAYBE !!! and scary would share her experience#but itd make normal more resentful cuz hed be like well it all worked out for you in the end with you and your dad and you mom who all love#you. and then scary would get irked and start to call him out but then now that the bottles been uncorked his resentment would start#spilling out.#“you burned my house down! i thought it was *my* family that had the connection with the doodler ! but why- when- ”#and normal would be so frustrated and he couldnt get his words out and hed refuse to look at scary while she looks at him w/ the hardest#look of conflicted sympathy and pain#and all she could say would be stop comparing yourself to me and shed mean that in the most compassionate way possible and norm would just#be like i know#and then the bus would come and scary would have to go but shed look back and then be like “am i still coming over saturday to play#and him busy crying would just give a thumbs up#god now that i write this out maybe i will draw it i have a little bit of time left why not#to me i think scarys someone normal would have the easiest time being mean to#one because of his latent misogyny and this like unconscious superciliousness he holds towards her yet shes the one receiving the#validation he sorely craves and knowing if theres anyone he could talk to and whos understand what hes going through its her so though he#isnt able to be emotionally vulnerable or engage in a deeper level but he does feel comfortable enough to lash out at her#last pic is if nick woke up post doodlerized and found himself on cassandras couch (where the teens placed him) and shes there to greet him
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wouldn't it be nice if the author of the fics finished them. the author is me.
#vent#for the last 4 months my life has been in stupid crisis mode#like constantly#from major ones where i had to move out for a while because it was impossible to stay where i lived#to not being able to use my kitchen for over a week#and like other more or less minor house related stuff that made it impossible for me to use something normally#not a single week without something like that or shit at work which is constantly being so fucking chaotic#and now someone died in my family#not someone very close but i liked them#and of course like feeling sad that they are gone can't be the only thing#because it has to come with the headache of i need to travel for their funeral and it's just before easter#so there's no one in this city to leave my dog with#because most of my friends either live abroad or have cats or are busy before easter..#i'd just want a week where nothing happens#and like the writing is weighing heavy on me#because i miss it#also i wish i could finish something#i wish something good would happen that i could feel proud off#also because i'm mentally ill and fucking stupid when i was going crazy with my kitchen not working and work shit#i bought new furniture#because after 15 years i've finally had enough money to buy some that aren't fucking black and inconvenient and ugly#which is like a huge project and a crisis i brought onto myself#just because i was too burnt out to write#and i wanted something nice to happen to me#like a nice living space that doesn't make feel like i have no ownership over it because everything in it was some else's choice#and that old furniture was bought by my mother and my brother ages ago and it's handmedowns#and my fucking horrible mother feels personally slighted that i want to get rid of a bed that is broken#because my brother's kids jumped on it regularly when they used to visit pre covid#yeah it's been broken that long because i lost all my savings during covid and had to change careers to a souless pointless corpo job#long pathetic whine and overshare over
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Yesterday I've been hit 🤛🤛 with an idea for a scene where Renegade Dick does something wrong, like a really big really serious mistake and Slade obviously needs/wants to punish him for it.
The scene is basically Dick being scared shitless, just begging and pleading for his master to have mercy while Slade drags him off to a cell
It would be fun to write, it would be some sort of writing practice too BUT I DONT HAVE TIME TO WRITE IT
#i have so much on my shoulders this week#im going to fucking cry at one point#ill get through it#ill be fine#i just need to bitch and maybe cry just a bit#seriously dont mind me#ill get my shit done by next week#and then!!! I'll write it#I'll be very happy about it#and THEN I'll start on treats for the exchange#yeah#thats the plan#we can do it let's fucking go
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oh yeah i'm fine im writing a fanfic about two boys falling in love instead of, idk seeing a doctor for a mysterious medical problem, but yeah. no im okie dokie! definitely nothing wrong going on here
#listen tylorpe is the only thing i got going for me rn okay#im having weird things going on rn and all i wanna do is write#crossing my fingers im not about to keel over and die or something#that would be a shame cause my story would be unfinished (oh yeah and ig i'd also be dead thats a bummer too-)#ive been uhm ““not okay”” for a week. im really hoping i will return to being okay naturally w/o a doctor#cause it is the HOLIDAYS and who tf wants to go to the doctor during fucking christmas#but yeah idk i have something wrong going on and its almost christmas ill probably (probably) be okay idk ig we'll see#never understood those unhinged authors until rn#ofc i'd be one of those people casually maybe dying or smthin and still posting fic chapters good god im#tylorpe#tavier#tyler x xavier#xavier x tyler#tyler galpin#xavier thorpe#jessiejames writes#my fanfic#my writing#writing#ao3
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Meddling and forced proximity!!
thank you so so much!!! <3 (also I simply do not understand the concept of 3 sentences, we're ignoring that today)
The dinner isn’t awkward exactly, Steve is just very aware of Eddie and the way he keeps sending him sad looks. Like he has any right to do that when he’s the one who- Steve cuts off that thought, he’s not going there. Not right now. He bounces his leg restlessly and wishes he could go for a run, or go down to the lake and swim to clear his thoughts. But he can’t and he also can't keep ignoring everyone. So, he turns to Joyce, opens his mouth to speak but she beats him to it. “How are things? You seem tense,” her eyebrows furrow as she looks him up and down. Steve should have talked to Hopper instead. This woman is way too perceptive and unlike Hopper completely unwilling to leave things alone. “I’m good,” he says, managing to sound mostly normal, “just peachy.” He takes a sip of his beer to focus on something else than the way her eyes bore into his soul. How does she look so kind and terrifying at the same time? “Uh-huh,” she says not missing a beat and clearly not buying it, “so what’s happening with you and Eddie?” Steve inhales in surprise and almost chokes on his beer. Coughing and spluttering as it goes down the wrong pipe. “Sorry, what?” He croaks out. “Neither of you are subtle,” she tells him smacking his back so hard he thinks it might do more harm than good. Steve doesn’t know what to say to that. Especially not after his and Eddies last conversation, so he shrugs noncommittally and hopes it's enough of a response. She doesn't say anything back but keeps looking at him, eyes skeptical. After a while, she seems to come to some conclusion. “Well, you’re in his room while we’re here and kicking you out of yours so you can figure it out then.” Steve did not know that. No one, not even Eddie, bothered to tell him they’d be sharing a bed for two nights, which is just fantastic. A day ago he would have been happy about this. Now though? He’s wondering if he can convince Robin to share her twin bed with him, or just let him sleep on her floor.
wip weekend/make me write
#yeah this fic has the one bed trope (eventually)#i actually started this in november and then just have not touched it until this month and im changing a lot but it's better this way and#so!! the problem with wips is if i work on them i just wanna talk about them but like no write only explain the plot#but i am writing so#ill go to bed now and do the rest of the wip asks tomorrow (or maybe next week we'll see)#steves-strapcollection#<- that made me so happy to write lol#ask#steddie#my writing#wip game#tag game#dels steddie thoughts#steve harrington#eddie munson#joyce byers#stranger things
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several days and 15 thousand words later, i am relieved to report that the suffocating urge to Write Something has been sated and no longer has me in a chokehold
#Seven.txt#writing stuff#thinking of that post that’s like ‘u Have To make art or all the ideas stay stuck in ur brain and make u sick’ bc yeah thats been the vibe#wish i wasn’t so all or nothing about it tho. but alas. i’m that way with everything in my life#i either expect 10k in a day from myself or i don’t write at all for weeks. or months :)#and my average pace is about 500 words per hour. so u can see. how that might be a problem. given how many hours are in a day.#and that’s obviously not sustainable. but idk if it’s adhd or what but it’s So hard to quickly start and stop tasks just Whenever#i struggle to be one of those ppl that can consistently write like. 500 words a day every day and then wow! soon you have a whole novel#nah. once i get myself in the Zone then i’m Goin’ and i can’t stop until i’m Done or i collapse from ignoring my body’s needs lmao#it’s something i should make an effort to do though bc i’d love to be consistently chipping away at things instead of working in bursts#anyways this is a lotta negative self-commentary for what is actually a Positive post! bc yay!! i wrote a thing!! Two things actually!!! 🎉#i got the follow-up to last year’s Matt oneshot done And i wrote the next chapter of Heaven in Hiding after uh. a year and some months#i wanted to blow the dust off the ol’ keyboard by starting with writing some less. uh. high-stakes(?) stuff#not that i didn’t put my all into writing them. i always do. just that ik they’ll have less of an audience so ill cringe less if they suck#so then i can hopefully do justice to the [N]MbD stuff that i’ll be putting out next! ehehe *rubbing my hands together* Finally#the next two [N]MbD fics r already written but the first little one needs a final edit#and then the Big one for. uh. someone (u kno who u r) needs a bit of rewriting i think. i wanna make it Better#so release schedule will be 1. Matt • 2. HiH Ch.3 • 3. [N]MbD small fic • 4. [N]MbD Big fic#then i’m gonna write a lil Boothill comfort oneshot. then i’ll edit/maybe rewrite and post that Dew (Ghost) OCD comfort oneshot#i also wanna keep writing the last couple chapters of HiH before i unintentionally abandon it again#and after/amidst all that maybe i’ll manage to get ES Ch.6 written and posted before the end of the year 😭#anyways ik i’ve made posts like this before. talking abt all these Plans of mine. and most of those things r Still stuck in the pipeline#so don’t put too much stock into this plan. i could have another Bad couple of months and get None of it done#but god i sure fucking hope not. i’d really like to cling to my creativity. if for no other reason than that it makes me happy
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i need to stop forgetting things exist the fucking second they leave my field of vision. why is is impossible for two things to occupy my mind at once especially when im tired. like. i feel like a sim. i feel like actions are being canceled and i just. move on. and completely forget what i was doing moments before. i fucking hate it
#i feel like it’s getting worse too#like its always hasn’t been great but the past few weeks have been especially bad#why can’t i remember things!! why is my short term memory sucking ass!!!!!!#like if i don’t write/type things down i loose it#making me wanna rip my hair out what the fuck is going on!!!!!#gonna start playing those phone games that improve memory or whatever#it’s either that or going to my mom for an essential oil recommendation#i know it’s probably some undiagnosed shit but im also like. i can’t keep blaming whatever is wrong with my brain because its a problem with#/me/. ya know?? like. yeah it is something with my brain. obviously. but i need to take some sort of action to fix it. and i dont know what#that action is#besides the two options i said before#or carrying a fucking notebook around and writing down everything. which is stupid also and i know won’t last a week#problem is im gonna forget about any rule i come up with since as soon as im preoccupied with something else. i’ll forget the rule#i would need a hat with the reminder on paper tapped to the hat#so it’s always dangling in front of my eyes#i don’t know what else to do at this point!!!!#it’s making me so worried about going away for college. cause yeah i did really well at community. but if i have the deteriorating memory#of a goldfish who’s constantly banging its head against the glass. how am i gonna make it through university.#i love writing essays in the tags that no one will read <3#having a ball rn. a great time. not feeling like a waste of resources at all rn. feeling great.#if my mom doesn’t let me wear my earbuds tomorrow i think ill scream#anyways. gonna bake some blueberry lemon sweet rolls tomorrow#me rambling#i love being undiagnosed#but let’s be real#being diagnosed won’t give me anything other than more of an excuse#because i can’t go on meds with my current living situation#and i also don’t really want to go on meds because i don’t trust them#feeling silly i think ill actually post this one maybe someone has a suggestion for what to do#vent
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today in "trying to get bottom surgery is its own circle of hell": on may 28th, i get my surgeon on the phone regarding the issue of my surgery getting approved and inform him that i have an official document of approval that covers all transition surgeries for the rest of my life and therefore i dont need to pass through a specific meeting to have bottom surgery approved. surgeon tells me to send him the document and hell be able to bring it up in a staff meeting "at the end of the week" and schedule my surgery asap. as soon as i get a copy of the document the next day i email it to him. so, of course, its been two weeks since that "end of the week" staff meeting and i havent heard shit!
emailed the surgeon again asking for an update.. maybe at some point ill finally get a date for this surgery ive been going through the process of preparing and getting approved since 2021 :) which was already scheduled then delayed twice in 2023 :))
can i move to the reality right wingers believe in where you just walk into a hospital and say "give me a sex change now!!" and they immediately start prepping an or lol
#97#btw from experience 'getting a surgery date' doesnt even mean 'youll get this surgery for sure'#like not only has this surgery been cancelled twice#but for hysterectomy i was In The Hospital Room Prepped For Surgery#and i waited all day and eventually they were like#'the surgery before yours had complications so we dont have time to operate on you today. might have time tomorrow but we dont know.'#so the next day same thing. im fasting all day to prep for surgery waiting for news.#eventually the surgeon comes to see me and tells me they have no ors free and dont know when they will. sometime in the next week or later.#i ask what im supposed to do now and theyre like 'just stay in paris and well call you the day before when we have a spot'#and then i was just.. left to get a room to stay in in a city that isnt mine for a week while waiting for news.#so yeah i literally will not trust im getting operated on until theyre actively putting me under#one day when all of this is finally over ill write a post or something recounting Ever Single Hurdle that came w transitioning#cause i started to ask to transition at 16 and 11 years later im still caught up in the shitty ineffective process#and yet Some People want you to think its sooo easy to just transition on a whim without knowing what youre doing and it should be harder
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Burrergh I'm making horrible progress I haven't even started chapter thr-
Oh
#shitpost#snowbird adjacent#ive got like ten pages left.#i dont really like this chapter honestly its just exposition#the relationships are important yeah and it fits into the story but u g#idk man#i think ill be finished with it in about a week?#guh aaaugh help me idk what im doing i dont know how to write i dont know how to pace things#this whole thing is just going to be rumi sulking on her bed being sad about her dead sister#oh and then crying because she shouted at her wife. obviously.#idk why i posted this i guess i just wanted to feel like i was making progress also to establish that im not dead#randosfandos knows im still alive because they religiously reblog everything on my reblog account#its a little unfair that the page numbers are innacurate i think#with the way i space my paragraphs and the size of the pages its not actually eighty its probably closer to sixty#we fell off with this one boys ✋️✋️‼️‼️🗣🗣🔥🔥🔥#aauauauhghhhgh i hate it. i hate it. its important but i hate it.#chapter four will be better i promise i just need to finish three and get the big exposition out of the way#bruryrgg#hhh#gh
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i was really about to say 'why cant i have an irl chat' bro those are called friends ???? go outside.
#snap chats#yeah why cant i have friends 🥴☠️☠️#anyway my other inbox is giving me a stroke and i cant go to bed irked#so i wanted to exude a twinge of creativity but i was stuck between wantin to write that goofy fic idea i mentioned earlier#or doing a goofy lil doodle i been thinkin of for like. weeks#the fic WOULD take longer and WOULD be more painful mentally and physically but the idea too funny for me to ignore#and so i was gonna ask people which i should do be like. this is a very time-based question now innit#anyway ill see what happens if i try writing so bye#watch me write up a whole fic and just let it collect dust like so many other ones ☠️☠️
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