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engagedtobefree · 17 days

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I’ve been struggling the past few weeks a bit with my mood. I feel kind of apathetic, I guess you could say. My usual optimism has been a struggle to tap into, but I think it’s finally coming around. To be fair to me, this new year has been a bit rough, and I don’t think I’ve actually had time to stop and process everything. I rang in the new year in bed, sick from a virus, then 3 weeks later just as I was starting to feel better, my friend Craig died. Then two days after his viewing, I was sick with covid for the first time ever. After I got over that, I developed a UTI, which luckily wasn’t as bad as it usually is. I tend to get them fairly easily because of my bladder disorder, but of course after I was getting back into the swing of things after covid, I fell asleep super early one night with a completely full bladder, and that was that 🙃 Then a few weeks later my mom and I had to put her dog to sleep. And really, the rest of it has been me trying to catch up while also focusing on trying to improve my mental health, which is a plate full all on its own.

Oh, and Idk if I mentioned I’m writing a poem a day this year. Me, who is not consistent with anything, struggles with routines, and has never kept a streak of anything beyond maybe 2 or 3 weeks, has written 100 fucking poems this year!! Today will be day 101 once I write it. I’m actually so glad I started this, because I have needed it to process so many things and also it’s been one of the few saving graces of this year so far. It was a last-minute decision too. I didn't really plan for it, write it down as a goal, or think too much about it; I asked for a notebook for Christmas and my mom ended up getting me 3, one of which has 366 pages, which is perfect since it’s a leap year. That meant I could use a page a day. I wanted to increase my vocabulary, relearn and learn anew about poetry itself, get creative every day, and also write more often so I have the chance to not stay stuck writing about one thing for months and months and months. I take forever to finish a poem because 1. I write inconsistently and 2. I overanalyze every single word because I want it to reflect as accurately as possible what I’m writing about and I also want it to be “good”. My poems have always been deeply personal, so the truth of how I speak through them has always been very important to me. Since I’ve started doing this though, I noticed that I can still do that without spending forever on something, and that the more I write, the more inspiration blesses me. I still have my separate book for my other stuff, but I’ve almost exclusively been focusing on my daily poems since this year started, mostly because that’s all I have time for. No doubt once I get back to my other book, I will still take my time lol, which is fine, cuz now I still have my dailies. Also I realized that it’s okay that my “good” looks different every day, and not everything I write has to be a masterpiece. I’ve always been very self-critical, and this has helped me realize that expecting only “good” material is treating myself as a machine rather than a human being. If I don’t like what I write that day, at least I wrote something, and there will be another opportunity to write again tomorrow. I will probably still be really anal about editing stuff later, but right now, writing every day has been a lot of fun.

Okay, so now it's time to dive into my personal problems! Wooo! I’m going to start with the one issue I have been hoping for a very long time now would be irrelevant, and that’s Scott. I don’t even tag his name anymore in any personal posts I’ve vented about him in because I just want this to go away, but he has been incessantly trying to get my attention. Literally. Things ended between us a good year and a half ago, but he tried to come back last summer and I was very, very, VERY clear about not wanting to try again and just being friends. He would occasionally reach out to me but it was just niceties and nothing to really worry about, though it did annoy me when he would contact me. But ever since the new year began, he was pestering me almost weekly, asking if I wanted to hang out, commenting on literally every single Snapchat story I post, and asking how I’ve been and saying he misses me. I had legit excuses for the first month and half with getting sick 3 separate times and then my friend Craig dying, but since then it’s mostly been me going to bed before he messages me, ignoring his messages till the morning, him skipping a week in not contacting me, or me just saying I’m too tired for company, which wasn’t actually a lie tbh. I ignored the situation as long as I could before I finally succumbed to the reality that I couldn’t ignore it forever.

Not this past Friday but the one before was the day I finally decided to deal with it. He was messaging me much earlier in the day than usual, like literally I wasn’t even done work yet, but that also gave me time to feel out what I wanted to do. He asked if he could come over and I told him yes, but then added something pretty close to “I don’t know what your expectations are, but I want you to know that everything I said last summer still stands. I haven’t changed my mind about anything. I am only interested in friendship and nothing more.” I didn’t want him here without me first saying anything to him because I knew he wasn’t going to say anything to me beforehand and I didn’t want to feel like I was caught in some sort of trap in my own home, aka my safe space. He opened my message then didn’t respond for maybe half an hour or so. When he did respond, he said he wanted to hook up with me but he respected if I didn’t want to. Then he said he did really want to be friends at least because he likes me as a person. I told him I know it’s not what he wanted to hear, but I didn’t want him coming here with some idea that something could happen, and that a friendship is really all I want. He responded back that he thought he should tell me before coming over. Okay, so I have a lot to say (vent) about all of that. First off, he wasn’t planning on telling me shit until I said something. He was going to come here and then ask if I wanted to hook up, putting me in an awkward situation when I previously established very clearly I only wanted a friendship and have not even once since then indicated that I have any interest in anything more. This leads me into the second thing which is that he wasn’t even considering what I wanted, just what he wanted. I am very intentional with showing interest. I do not flirt or lead people on. If I flirt, it means I am interested. I have not flirted with Scott since before we even ended things. I send a lot of emojis to anyone and everyone when I message, but I have not sent him any since we broke things off. I also only say someone’s name when messaging if they say mine first or if I am interested. There are some more exceptions to that rule, but if I am consistently saying your name when reaching out, I’m interested. I have not said Scott’s name in messages since before we broke things off. I know that it might not seem like much, but all of that paired with me literally saying I don’t want to try again and only want to be friends should be more than enough to indicate I’m not interested. Thirdly, of course you are going to respect my decision because you’re not going to force me to change my mind. (When he did come over that night, I had a knife and my Simplisafe alert button near me just in case. I don’t think I will ever need them with Scott but you never know.)

I wasn’t sure if he would actually still want to come over after I turned him down, but he was not deterred. Everything went smoothly and it wasn’t awkward, thankfully. He was, however, acting very differently than usual. He was friendly, engaging, talkative, and gave me a bunch of compliments. If he had done this switcheroo like 2 years ago, I might have fallen for it, might have second guessed the fact that I wasn’t being treated right and that I wasn’t happy and ignored that deep down I didn't actually want to be with him, but I’m way past that now. The way he was acting was how he always acted with everyone else except me, which in the past, hurt me a lot. When it came to me, he was often cold, distant, non-communicative, inconsiderate. So for me, him doing this now only really solidifies him in the friendship role. It’s weird in a way because I previously wanted him to act this way with me, like how he did with friends and acquaintances, because it was the nicer Scott, not realizing that if he treated me like other people, it would put me in the same role as them. But now, me actually fulfilling my wish from years ago puts me in the friend/acquaintance role by him being nicer to me. I got my wish, but it happened much later than past me wanted and in a way I hadn’t intended, and it does me more service now than it would have then. I mean, I know there’s the extra caveat of him hoping it will get him laid, but in reality, it pushes him even further away from that than he was to begin with, which was already pretty dang far. I guess in his mind, he thinks there’s a chance I could eventually want him again, or at least enough to sleep with him, but that chance is zero. If I decided I’m done with someone, that means I spent a long time thinking over the situation, how I’m being treated, how I feel about them, who they really are as a person, our relationship and dynamic, if it’s actually really love or something else, what a future with them would look like, etc etc etc. I don’t make decisions like this lightly; I look from every angle and leave no stone unturned, so when I decide I’m done, that means I’m done. For good. Forever. Scott does not know this, but as I’ve said, I haven’t given him a single reason to hope. He’s decided on his own that something could still possibly happen in the future. When he left, he told me to not be a stranger and that we should catch up again soon. I don’t plan on that, but I was happy with how things went, oddly enough. I didn’t really want to see him, but the fact that I did and that I was able to set a clear boundary made me happy, and I felt a sort of completion around the situation. No doubt he’s still going to contact me (he already has lol), but I don’t feel worried or annoyed by it anymore. I’m happy with my decision, restated my boundary with a lot more confidence than last time (not that I should have had to repeat it though), and I feel like I can look forward now without having to worry too much about this. I didn’t feel unsafe, though I figured I wouldn’t, but I wanted to take some extra precautions just in case since I do live alone.

It’s funny because a few years ago when Scott and I still worked together, I had reached a place of complete acceptance with the situation and was able to be completely content with what it was without needing any answers. It was actually during that time that I think we formed a pretty decent friendship, and that’s when I felt we did best. At the time, I thought that what I was feeling was only because of how I was able to find my peace with everything, but looking back now, I think it’s also because that was just where we thrived best together: in a friendship. I’m not going to actively work at being his friend now, especially because I know he still has hopes that I’ll change my mind (I won’t) and something will happen (it won’t), but at least right now, I don’t need to block him or cut him off, which means I don’t feel in danger or like I’m being harassed. However, I don’t like that he still treats me like I’m stupid. I know why he is suddenly making such an effort and doing a total 180 in how he’s treating me. I saw it immediately and haven’t fallen for it for a second, so the fact that he thinks I might actually fall for this is a bit insulting to my intelligence. I’m sure some of it is actually genuine, like him saying he’d like to be friends regardless, which is fine, but just don’t insult me in the process, dude. Also, if he continues to not respect my decision and tries to pressure me, I will block him and cut him off. He can be my friend, he just needs to accept that nothing more will come of it.

Anyway, I feel like I was able to work through that finally. I’ve also been working on some of the past trauma from him, though I had to put a lot of that on hold because of everything that went on this year. I know I can’t move forward until it no longer has such a strong effect on me. I think how I handled the situation now says a lot. When he tried to come back last year, I was anxious, emotional, and very uncomfortable with having to handle the situation and tell Scott I didn’t want to try again. I was still processing a lot of past trauma and while I was positive about not wanting to be with him, I was afraid of hurting him. This time was so different!! I 100% put myself first, and I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for stating what I wanted and not compromising where I shouldn’t. Growing up in an abusive household where there was a lack of boundaries and respect instilled a false belief in me that caring about how I’m treated is wrong and that attempting to do so is insulting and harmful to the other person. I do still have to deal with this from time to time, but I handle it much better now, and I hope I only continue to grow in that regard. I am 32 years old and still learning to untangle the web of lies that abuse taught me, but here I am, fucking doing it and making so much progress with it. I’m so proud of myself.

So now I’m going to unsmoothly segway into talking about Chris now. This poor guy lol. Anytime I write a personal post on here he ends up in it, and he doesn’t even talk to me. Sorry, Chris, but you’re still on my mind. Some of this is also actually relevant to what I was just talking about though so I’m going to start with that. So back in November when I had my last appointment with him, I struggled a lot. I felt I did some things fairly well, but when it came to flirting and asking if he was single, I failed. If I had to choose a physical representation of it, it would be someone falling flat on their face, trying to get up, then falling again and conceding to lay there till it was over. Chris has no way of knowing why I couldn’t. I mean, if he happened to guess, I’d be very impressed. Back when I worked with Scott, it was difficult. I was unknowingly flirting with a married man for months, who flirted back with me, and then after I found out he was married I was mortified. We ended up on friendly terms and then I developed feelings for him. We stayed friendly and I would talk to him all the time at work. He would start flirting with me again and then I’d naively think maybe something was going on, maybe he separated from his wife or was going through a divorce, so I’d flirt back. Then after several weeks of that, nothing would happen, he’d never bring anything up, so I’d ask him what was going on and he’d tell me nothing, he was married, it is what it is, this can never go anywhere. Then I’d get upset and mad that I fell for it, stop talking to him for a while, and then the cycle would repeat. There was one period where I accepted I wasn’t going to get answers (I mentioned it above) and so we were just friends and nothing more, and that was really the only good, healthy period we had. That was like the second half of 2019 up until he left in October 2020, of course with most of 2020 being working from home. Other than that, it was mostly turmoil, and mostly for me. I was 26 when everything started, and Scott was 44. I kept placing my trust in an older man to do the right thing and to not come into work and flirt with me unless he was available, but I was really naive. I talked to him because I wanted to, not because I expected anything to happen, which I didn’t want anyway unless his marriage broke off, but when he would flirt with me again, it would give me false hope that something could actually happen. I always felt such extreme guilt every time too, knowing that once more I was pursuing a married man who was leading me on while his wife had no idea about any of it. I still carry guilt from my actions during that time, because had I known from the beginning that he was married, I would’ve never looked again in his direction. I was so ashamed of myself for so long because I had a choice to say, “No, this cannot continue, I cannot trust this man unless he gives me an explicit reason that I can”, but instead, I chose to keep trusting. I chose to keep flirting. I have worked through some of that shame and guilt, but not all of it. I recognize that I did try over and over again to not interact with him and to avoid him, but his office door was literally 5 feet from my cubicle, which made it hard. To be clear, I never would have had an affair or taken it outside the office at all. He did bring that up fairly early on during a period when I wasn’t pissed off about things, and I told him I did not want to have an affair with him and he agreed. Now that I think about it, I wonder if his answer was dependent on mine though. This scenario kind of happened again after we reconnected back in May/June of 2021. Since he and his wife had separated recently, he made it clear he didn’t want to enter anything new, no dating or romantic partnership until later down the line, but he wasn’t sure about sexual, so he left that up to me to think about. When I told him no, he agreed, but I was never sure if his response would’ve been different if I had said yes.

Anyway, continuing…I felt very stuck, and it was something I brought up all the time in therapy. I didn’t know how to get unstuck. I was only a temp at my job at the time, and I didn’t have health insurance or any time off. NJ didn’t enact the statewide mandate that all employees must be given at least 2 sick days a year until the same month I was finally hired permanently, so if I took any time off, I didn’t get paid for it. (I just looked it up to confirm the date it was enacted to make sure I had it right, and apparently it’s 40 hours now that are mandatory, which is cool they improved the policy!!) I worked a second job and still lived paycheck-to-paycheck. I couldn’t afford to spend more than $20-$30 a week on groceries, which included toiletries and cleaning supplies. I had to stop paying my electric bill because I couldn’t afford it and I needed the shut-off notice to get assistance to help pay for the bill, which thankfully covered several months and also covered my past-due amounts. My apartment was old and shitty, but it was the only place that was affordable for me at the time. My first year there was $715 a month then the 2nd year was $740. It was definitely a health hazard though: the carpets were musty despite several cleanings; there was water damage in the wall and on the ceiling; the water damage on the ceiling was above my bed, which I couldn’t move anywhere else, and kept forming mold that my complex just kept painting over; the front door wasn’t fit right so there were huge gaps between the door and the frame; the water heater would switch to cold after only 5 or 10 minutes in the shower; and the heating system was so old that in the winter it cost me $200+ just to heat my tiny little 400 square foot studio apartment (it was all electric). I couldn’t interview for other jobs because that meant I wouldn’t get paid if I took time off and then that meant I’d have to stress even more over what bill wouldn’t get paid or if I’d have to eat even less than my 2 meals a day. I had to make sure my cat and guinea pig were fed before I fed myself. At my other job, I worked Sunday brunches, which were the most stressful and busiest shifts, so no other hostess wanted to partner with working on them let alone working it by themselves, which often led to me working the whole shift by myself, and I took up other shifts if I had the time or energy to. My mental health was not great and was only made worse by my life circumstances, and I had to go on a second anxiety medication for a while to stop my anxiety attacks.

I wanted to be out of the situation with Scott, even if that meant leaving to go work someplace else, but I was already doing everything I could and I still couldn’t find a way out without jeopardizing my well-being even further. Moving back in with my mom, which was something I eventually did and regretted, was not an option for me because I worked really hard to get out of the abusive household I grew up in. I say all of this not as an excuse but for context. And for forgiveness. I look back at my younger self and she was dealing with so much stress. My basic needs were not even being fully met, but I continued to show up and to handle things in the best ways I could, and sometimes the decisions I made weren’t actually good ones at all. Still though, I kept believing in people, I kept hoping for the best and trusting, and I was actually really grateful for my life at the time, probably even more so than I am now. I didn’t have much, but I had my own place, my own life, freedom, and that was always something I held onto, even during the worst of things. I tried desperately to find a way to let go of my feelings for Scott, but I couldn’t help how I felt because I kept choosing to see the best while ignoring the rest. It took me a very long time to realize Scott was not the one for me and that he wasn’t the type of person I wanted as my romantic partner. I didn’t accept him fully, flaws and all, and we were not compatible in the ways we needed to be. I wouldn’t have been happy if we did get together, but unfortunately I didn’t see all of that until after he left my work, separated from his wife, and reached out to me on Instagram to connect again and start what would eventually become a “situationship” between us. Still, I’m glad I saw it sooner rather than later and before it devolved into an actual romantic relationship.

So when I could feel myself hesitation the first time and then shaking the second time when I went to ask Chris if he was single, it was from that past period of my life. I saw it all flash in my mind immediately: all the times I confronted Scott and the answers I got back, and all of the sureness and trust I felt about Chris was immediately squashed by those images. I wrote about a bunch of parallels in my post after my appointment with him, but I wanted to dive a bit deeper into that here in a broader sense. Man at his work flirting with me. Check. Man makes it known he’s interested, then doesn’t take it anywhere. Check. Man offers no explanation whatsoever for that. Check. Man does not willingly mention his relationship status. Check. Man is cautious about what information he gives about himself and words things so that while he can respond, he never actually reveals anything about himself or his life. Check. In someone else’s mind, those might just be indicators of someone who is reserved, guarded, private, whatever. In my mind, those checks are potential red flags. Those checked boxes come with the thoughts, “Oh no, am I going to flirt with an unavailable man again? Am I going to get caught in a similar situation that causes me a lot of duress and emotional pain? Am I going to unwillingly be complicit in some man’s selfish attempts at getting attention from me?” Chris doesn’t know any of that. I felt disappointed in myself after my appointment, and I felt like I had probably disappointed him too, though I don’t know for sure. If I had the chance to tell him why, I would, even if I had to sum it up briefly. I mean, I guess I could just say how I was in a situation with someone before where they weren’t trustworthy and it affected me more than I realized. Turns out traumatic things actually traumatize you. Who knew? 🙃 That’s assuming it’s even necessary for me to explain, since I have no idea at this point if Chris is still interested. He hasn’t brought up the date, and I have tried to initiate meeting up twice with no luck. I’m willing to be patient and wait, but I don’t know exactly what it is I’m waiting for. Is there really a possibility this can go somewhere, or am I being duped again? I didn’t reach out for 2 ½ months, but then last weekend I texted him, and it took several days for us to send only a few messages. He only responded once or twice a day, and then he did that thing again where he told me to have a wonderful day at the end of his message, then when I responded back with a bit more, he never responded back. I still don’t know how to take that. He did say he’s been getting sick like every other week, which is weird cuz that’s exactly what happened to me in the beginning of the year, so I can understand he may not be up for talking to anyone or even checking his phone at all, but I don’t know if that’s what it was or not. I don’t mind slow responses, but it would help to know what was going on and where I stand. Otherwise, it confuses me and I don’t know what to make of it.

I also don’t know if I’m being too impatient? He gave me his number last May and didn’t mention going on a date until December. Obviously, with how this year has gone just for me alone, not including him being sick and whatever else he has going on, nothing could have really happened since he mentioned the date. Maybe I’m being too hopeful? I don’t know 😕 I also don’t know if I have worked through what I needed to regarding Scott, because I have nothing to trigger it. That time of my life when we worked together was triggered only when an outside catalyst brought it up, one that placed me back in a moment that was similar and reminded me of it. The only way I’ll really know for sure that I’ve overcome all of this and am ready to step forward without the past holding me back is when I’m with Chris. There’s no one else I’m interested in, I’m rarely ever into anyone anyway, I don’t like random dating, and I have no interest in hooking up with random people, so there is literally not a single other person who can do this. I can’t know on my own; I can only do the work and hope that I’ve made progress with it and healed from it. At this point, I guess I’ll find out soon enough if I can pursue Chris without old baggage weighing me down since my appointment is coming up. I know I will still probably have some trepidations and fears that pop up, but as long as the most traumatic things are taken care of, I can push through all the other stuff.

I had my yearly appointment with the oral surgeon scheduled for the 15th of this month to make sure the dense spot in my jaw bone hasn’t grown, but he won’t be in that day so it got pushed back to the 29th. My next cleaning with Chris is scheduled for 2 ½ weeks later on May 16th. I feel nervous even thinking about it. At my last appointment I wasn’t sure what to expect since over the course of 6 months he only reached out to me 2 or 3 times, and after a while I gave up on reaching out to him because I was confused. I was determined to see him during this current time frame before my next appointment, but it looks like that isn’t going to happen. I feel like I’m going to really put myself out there and take some risks when my appointment does come around. Nothing is moving along, which I know we’re both contributing to, so I want to at least feel good knowing that I did my part, and I don’t feel that way yet. So far, I’ve relied on past trauma and doubt to take the lead more than I’ve allowed the present and trust to do so, and I want to flip that now. I have been trying not to think about everything with Chris that has been shouting “GREEN FLAG!!” at me because a lot of it isn’t logical but rather intuitive and spiritual, but I think that those places are where the answer actually lies. Overthinking gets me nowhere, so I have to stop letting it be an option. I can still be cautious, but not to a degree where it is detrimental to anything happening at all.

Aside from past trauma interfering there’s definitely been a few other things that have contributed to my lack of pursuit here. In general, I never know how people perceive me. I have always felt like I come off as unlikable, so even when people tell me good things about myself, I struggle to hold onto those things and believe in them. I’ve been trying to shift that because I know that is a belief I hold and not necessarily one that is true. I’m sure there have been people who genuinely have not liked me as a person, but with 8 billion people in the world, odds are at least some of them do or will like me. I mean, I do have friends and the one and only yoga class I teach at the moment continues to get a lot of students, so that all has to say something. I think a big part of that belief I hold also stems from childhood trauma, but I can’t remember when it started. For as long as I can remember, it feels like I’ve always felt that way about myself. So when Chris literally doesn’t talk to me, takes a whole day to respond when I reach out, and then hasn’t actually planned the date that he brought up months ago, I just assume the worst. Logically, I know there could be a whole host of other reasons that might not have anything to do with me, or maybe even something else that does, but it’s hard for me to shake off how I’ve thought about myself for pretty much my entire life. So in my mind, a quick assumption that pops up is that I’m bothering Chris when he wants nothing to do with me. I don’t want to place any assumptions or expectations on him, but untangling those is difficult and is taking longer than I would like them to. This is something that I actually personally started working on years ago, and while it might not be apparent, I’ve made a TON of progress with it. I used to be a lot worse with it, but I still have some ways to go. I know that it’s my responsibility to find peace within myself no matter what external circumstances look like. Anway, back to the other stuff. There’s also been the other things that have been taking forever, like feeling at peace with the Scott situation, which I feel like has finally freaking happened, and then personal accountability I have with other things, like my ADD, which I’m still working on finding the right medication for. I have to remind myself though that it’s okay to be a work-in-progress. I tend to be in this “Everything needs to be perfect before anything can happen” mindset (with everything, not just romance), but in reality, things will never be perfect. If anything is ever 100% perfect and nothing is going wrong, it won’t last forever. Even the bad stuff doesn’t. The person meant for me won’t care and will want to handle all our messes together. But first I have to show up and be willing to tackle all those things on my own to the best of my abilities. I think I have been doing that, but I need to expand it a bit more to everything, and not just the more immediate things. My mental health struggles don’t make it any easier, but that only means I have to be more gentle and understanding with myself while continuing to work towards finding solutions, that’s all.

I’ve also struggled with that aspect of forgiving myself for past mistakes, not just the ones I made regarding Scott but with other things as well. I wonder why I deserve the relationship and connection I desire, what makes me so great and special as to receive it, and whether I’m even worthy of someone looking at me and knowing that I’m it for them. I wrote about this in my daily poem the other night. It was about a bunch of stuff but Chris was included in it. I’m not going to post the actual wording of what I wrote because I’m not ready to share that poem yet, even though that particular section is my favorite within the whole piece, but essentially what I said was how being with Chris would be like accepting forgiveness for myself. I want that, I just haven’t fully gotten there yet, and I’m not sure whether it needs to be mostly complete before anything can happen or if it’s okay that it remains a bit of a work-in-progress if and after things do get rolling. I’m hoping for the latter. I know it might sound kind of crazy that I fear forgiveness, but that is really what it is at its core: fear. I am tired of fear. I know that it’s a survival mechanism that kicks in and so I will never be able to be completely rid of certain ones, but I can at least shift my relationship with it. Taking a page out of Elizabeth Gilbert’s Big Magic here in saying that fear will always be in the car, but I do not need to let it steer the wheel or even sit in the passenger seat. It can stay in the backseat where it holds no control. I’m afraid of making the wrong choices again with someone and of getting myself in a similar situation as before, but that fear isn’t going to get me closer to anyone; it’s only going to keep me alone and afraid. I asked myself what is the worst that could happen if I do end up in the same situation, and the outcome was honestly not that bad. At the worst, I’d block Chris, find a new dentist office, and work on healing again. I could be grateful that it isn’t exactly the same as before, that I have more agency and options now and am not stuck like how I was in my situation with Scott, and that me being deceived would only say something bad about Chris and not me. Of course I'll be really disappointed, and I might also struggle with trusting myself and relying on my gut to tell me if someone is trustworthy, but I can work through all of that with time. When I take a look at all of that, it’s really not that bad. Yes, it would suck, but I’d get through it. Even as I write this though, I don’t think any of that will come to fruition. When I question and second-guess everything, asking the “what ifs” and doing the whole comparison thing, that fear builds in my chest and I think about how I can’t do this, I must be crazy to think that I can trust that trusting feeling that I feel with Chris. But when I close my eyes and take a moment to think clearly about Chris, letting myself remember his energy - the curiosity, comfort, warmth, gentleness, brightness, and pureness of it - that is when I know. That is when the truth of who he is makes itself known. I will never find the truth of him by looking at someone else’s actions, words, and energy. I will never find Chris by looking back at my relationship with someone else. I can only find Chris in Chris. I can only find any truth about what is going on by looking at my experiences with him and him alone. That is a very difficult and enormous shift I have been trying to make, but despite the doubts that creep into my mind, I believe that I can do it and that it is possible. Yes, I have to keep in mind that I could be wrong about him, but right now I am not giving enough energy to the thought that I could be right.

When I had last year’s appointment with the oral surgeon, I was also kind of in the same space, but it was only about whether or not Chris was interested in me. I didn’t really have much to go off of except 3 things: he did a double-take when he saw me, he was asking me questions that I was sure he was not asking everyone else (or at least with the same intention), and I just had an overall feeling. Well, okay, there was a bunch of other stuff, but I meant things that are a bit more tangible, I guess you could say. I’ve never been wrong in my life about someone being interested in me, I always just know, but I was accepting of the possibility that I could be wrong this time. I had told both of my best friends about everything, and it was kind of similar to what was going on in my head: Stacy was really supportive, said he was definitely into me, and that I should go for it, while Amanda said I could be reading things wrong, that intuition can’t always be trusted, and that it wasn’t enough to go off of. It’s funny cuz Amanda and I tend to have more views in common than Stacy and I do, but I ended up taking the more positive route, the one that Stacy supported. Amanda also is not very optimistic on the romantic front whereas I am, so this is something that we differ a lot on. I also don’t believe that intuition ever lies. For me, there’s always been a very strong distinction between emotions, thoughts, and intuition, so while I was still open to being wrong, I decided to trust my intuition more than my mind. Then when I was at my appointment with the oral surgeon, as soon as I crossed paths with Chris and our eyes met, I knew instantly that he was going to give me his number, and at my next appointment, he did. I have not been wrong about anything so far, and I’ve been trying to trust myself more, open my intuitive capabilities even wider, and I can’t do that if I’m always in my head about things. This one poem by Erin Hanson popped into my head and it feels relevant here: “There is freedom waiting for you, On the breezes of the sky, And you ask "What if I fall?" Oh but my darling, What if you fly?” I keep asking myself over and over, “What if I’m wrong?” but then there’s also a voice that follows it and asks, “But what if I’m right?” I won’t know unless I take a chance. I have always taken chances on the wrong people, and I don’t want that to deter me from trying again, because then I could miss out on the right person. I have to try. If I’m wrong, then I’ll deal with that when the time comes, and at least I can say that I tried and took a chance. If I’m right, then my life could possibly be changed forever.

I have tried so hard not to have hopes, because hope always brought me disappointment, but before, I only thought I knew, when in reality I was ignoring the actual knowing voice. This is different. I don't think I know, I do know. I've always known, and I've tried not to know. It's the opposite of how it's always been. If I trust this, it could potentially have a different outcome than all those other times too. I’ve been questioning and second-guessing and doubting, when deep down inside I’m being told to trust. I can’t predict the outcome of this situation, but I know I can trust whatever this is, and I need to lean into that without any more hesitation. I know. I know it’s safe to trust this. I read a lot of comics/manhwas in the Webtoon app, and right now I’ve been trying to read completed ones so I can focus more on current ones, and one I’m reading right now is called Aerial Magic. It’s about a young witch who can’t read spells, and she had trouble finding an apprenticeship that would take her. She applied to over 400 different places, and only 1 responded, which is the place she’s apprenticing at. While on the phone with her dad, she said she got lucky, and her dad responded that she was dismissing her hard work and that “It isn’t luck that you found the right person. It’s because you kept on reaching out and you refused to stop until you found someone who reached back.” How many people give up? How many people settle? How many people stop trying to grow and do better, or think there’s a limit to how much they’re able to improve, or believe it’s only the other person who needs to be improving and doing the work? I have never given up on myself and what I know I can have and is possible for me. Despite any doubts or perceived limitations, whether from myself or others, I’ve always pushed through. I may move slowly, but I never stop moving. All of my previous failed attempts at finding my person were stepping stones. I let those people and situations rip me apart, and then I put myself back together again, even when I didn’t want to do it. The thought that I have to has always driven me. I’ve never seen any other choice. When I looked at myself and adjusted to the newness of who I was with those pieces put back together, I realized that I somehow was more beautiful and more resilient. I grew, and while those growing pains hurt, they never stopped me. Growth is never easy, and more often than not the most growth comes from the hardest circumstances, but it’s necessary if we want to become our best selves. The growth we are looking for doesn’t come without the sacrifice of our own ease and comfort. We must go through it and heal it, and then we come out better for it.

Also, things I’ve felt and experienced with Chris have never happened before. There’s been a lot, and I wrote about some of them in past posts, although now that I’m thinking about it, some of it I might not have actually posted. I never made my one private post public, made a second private post I also never made public and then forgot about, and I started a Google docs draft writing about a ton of stuff last year that I never finished or posted, so some things I think I posted might not be on here. Oops lol I like to have all my stuff in one place, but whatever. I know certain things I definitely didn’t write about, but there’s less of those than ones I did write about. Anyway, my point is, I’m skipping that to write about something else I haven’t yet, or at least haven’t written about in great detail. It’s Chris’s energy, and how I can sense it. I’ve always been able to pick up on other people’s energies, like the essence of who they are, to a certain degree, but mostly I just feel emotions coming off of people, especially strong ones. I’m not sure if everyone is like that? I used to think so, until I was watching some astrology reel on Youtube not too long ago and of course a bunch of grown ass men who think they’re amazing for shitting on people’s interests that have nothing to do with them infiltrated the comment section. One of the comment threads was how people don’t give off “energy” and that there’s no such thing, from a scientific perspective, which didn’t sound right to me cuz I thought science literally explained how everything was energy, but sure go off, dude, whatever. That really confused me cuz I thought I was in my head a lot but maybe there are people so disconnected from themselves that they literally do not pick up on these types of things. Anyway, people I am closer with or was close with at one point have stronger energies to me. But ummm I’ve never felt anyone’s energy as strongly as I feel Chris’s. Especially considering I have only met him a handful of times, so it shouldn’t be that way. It was actually the first thing I noticed about him. I mean, he did have a mask on, but even then, I’ve been to plenty of doctors or other health places where they wear masks the whole time, and this has not happened with any of them. I remember the two times I was there before my first appointment with Chris, he was up at the front desk with his mask on, and both times he said we had similar last names. He didn’t look at me either time when he said it, just kind of tilted his head toward his right shoulder in my direction, and I didn’t think anything in particular about him; I only remember feeling curious, but even that wasn’t something I noticed consciously until later, so I quickly forgot about it each time. At my first appointment, I remember he did a double-take, and I didn’t look at him as a natural self-defense mechanism, but when I got back to the room with him, my defense was gone. That doesn’t happen. I always remember to keep it up, no matter what is going on around me. I didn’t even notice I had dropped it when I was with Chris. When I walked into the room behind him, he asked if I wanted him to hang my bag up for me, which I declined. That’s when my first impression of him hit: he was warm and bright. Not just because of his gesture, but his whole being. I felt the warmth and I saw this glow around him. I was thinking earlier about how I am virtually unphased by a lot of things that should probably phase me. This moment - well, my entire first appointment tbh - should have been one of those moments. Even at all my other appointments, there are things I have no logical explanation for and yet, I have remained nothing but calm and collected during all of it. Honestly, now that I’m thinking about it again, that is so insane haha.

I wasn’t going to write about this other thing, but since I probably already sound like I’m off my rocker, might as well just keep going a bit longer. Okay so, Chris’s eyes. I don’t know if he believes me cuz I’ve only ever commented on his eyes after he’s said something about mine, but asdfghjkl. I lose my absolute MIND over his eyes. This is going to be so freeing to write about. I can feel it. Okay so yeah, at my first appointment I only looked into his eyes once. It was when he was shocked I said I was 30 and I turned my head to look at him. His brown eyes were wide in disbelief. In that moment, I felt like 100 different things. I didn’t look long, but when I turned my head back, I had this strange sort of feeling. Well, first, I corrected myself by saying I was actually 31, and then I remember feeling some sort of weird intensity I had never felt before. I didn’t know what it was, so I felt embarrassed and didn’t look into his eyes again the rest of my time there. Later though, I figured it out. Chris’s eyes are so deep, yet still so bright. There is a depth there that seems to go on endlessly, like an entire other universe, and I wanted to know what was there. That was what I felt embarrassed about, but I couldn’t figure it out at that moment. I had no idea because I had never felt that before. I felt like I wanted to explore everything behind those eyes. I also felt seen and understood, which made no sense to me because there was nothing to see or understand. Maybe in general, like me as a person overall, but not in that particular moment. I still feel all of this when I look into his eyes, and after my last appointment with him, a few times when I was looking in the mirror, I had to do a double-take because I kept seeing his eyes before I saw my own. I know, I sound so psycho 😭 I wish I didn’t. I wish I had some sort of explanation, but I don’t. All I have is all this stuff that has happened and all the things I have felt, and this isn’t even the craziest of it. I still haven’t written about one thing that happened because it wouldn’t be fair to not tell Chris first, though that may never happen anyway. Maybe this is all nothing. Maybe this is…fake? Not real? A blip in the universe? Well - many blips in the universe? I can’t even take any guesses because what am I supposed to even guess at? He’s still just my dental hygienist and I’m still just his patient. There’s no relationship to comment on, little progress to point to, and barely any further interaction to make this stuff feel more tangible and less like I’m a little psychopath. There’s literally nothing to even guess at because these weird little things are all that exist from this. I can’t even talk to Chris about it because he doesn’t talk to me 😑😑😑 These intangible things are all I have. They’re all that’s really tethering me to trust because in the physical world, everything only points to confusion and doubt. This is all I have. I’m either being spiritually led in the direction of something really great, or I have some sort of serious brain injury that only makes itself known in Chris’s presence. I don’t think there’s anything in-between that would rationalize all of this stuff that I’ve seen and experienced.

That brings me around to what I’m going to do. First, I have to decide what I’m willing to live with: the pain of being used again or the pain of missing out. I already know which option I’m going to choose though, and I know what I’m going to do about it. Just like this time last year, I’m going to take the approach of seeing how Chris responds to me at my appointment with the oral surgeon. I assume we’ll cross paths like we have at all my other appointments. If it’s negative, sucks for me, and the result will probably be me crying when I get home because it does not take much to make me cry lol. If it’s positive, great, I plan to make some moves during my next appointment with him. I may have lost my chance at this point, but I’m hoping I haven’t. If I haven’t, awesome, I plan to treat my next appointment with him as a pivotal point in regards to whether things progress or not. So far, Chris has really put himself out there. He’s taken chances on me and I really haven’t responded positively back to him. I mean, I guess you could say the same for me taking chances on him in regards to trying to meet up and him not really responding great, but I’m not going to count that. I’m going to count in-person stuff only. I have roughly 5 weeks to: make sure I work through any lingering potential past romantic trauma that could interfere (this is also for myself too), come up with a coping plan in case something does come up, brush up on my flirting skills so I don’t freeze in the moment (tbh idk how I’m going to do this, maybe in the meantime just keep taking mental notes of all the stuff I like about Chris and hope it helps me seize an opportune moment to be flirty when the time comes), and continue to prioritize my mental health so I don’t get overwhelmed and overstimulated by all the excitement, which will also help with the flirting aspect. That….is a small list but actually a huge load of stuff to take care of in a month’s time. Anyway!! I’m still going to hope for the best. The other stuff doesn’t have to be 100% dealt with, but my #1 priority is making sure Chris feels good and that I make it apparent that “Yes I am into you and I’m sorry I’ve been struggling so much to show you that!!”. Well, I can leave out the apology bit, but yeah, the first part gets a thumbs up. Maybe that’s why Chris hasn’t initiated anything. Maybe he thinks I’m not that interested or only in it for self-gain, neither of which are true at all. I struggle a lot. I struggle with so many things and then I suck at articulating and explaining myself. In fact, when I do try to articulate or explain, I somehow always end up making things worse. It’s better for me to just wipe the slate clean, start fresh, and then hope that if he asks about something I can explain without embarrassing myself further. Maybe he wants me to ask about our date, but since he’s the one that brought it up in the first place, I feel kinda weird asking “So uhhh our date?” Maybe I’m overthinking all of this and it really is as simple as: if he’s not reaching out, then he’s not interested or is just fucking with me for whatever reason.

I’m tired, man. I’m tired of always being in a place of always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the pain. Waiting to be treated poorly. Waiting for the betrayal. Waiting for the anger. Waiting to be told or shown how I’m not enough. I think to myself, Who will not make me flinch? This all goes way beyond Scott; a large part of my experiences with men, for a majority of my life, have not been positive. Some have even been dangerously negative. I think a part of me is always going to have some fear about being hurt until I’m with someone who doesn’t hurt me in big ways, and the little ones they work with me on and try to make up for. I will gladly give them the same in return. I’m never going to find that person unless I take a chance on them. I want to take the chance on someone who is worth it, and I feel that Chris is. I want my choices in life to reflect that I didn’t give up, that I kept believing in something higher and took the steps I needed in order to actualize that higher life for myself, even if I did so imperfectly with mistakes along the way.

I had a bunch of other stuff I was going to write about but I’ve already been coming back to this over the course of two weeks and it’s getting too long, so I’ll end here for now.

Umm Chris if somehow you’ve found my anonymous blog, which I’m hoping you haven’t, I apologize if any of this sounded weird or made you uncomfortable 😭 Feel free to never talk to me again if that’s the case. If not, see you in a few weeks 🥰

#here's the novel no one asked for #personal #chris #idk what else to tag #i feel bad only tagging chris aside from personal lol #my overthinking strikes again #even in the tags #whomp whomp

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thepumpkinthingart · 3 years

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You seem like the best source to ask. What are good/ your favtotie Msummers fics?

Bold of you too assume I have good taste-

But ah-I am a frequent digger through the Mcsummers/Halex. Starved for content, pleading for angst, fluff, and just- Alex being a good bf to beasty. I got quite a few. I’ll break this up sfw or nsfw and shall tag the author if they have a tumblr! Please, Please, PLEASE go support the authors and look into their other content. <3

For the sake of clarity I am gonna keep this to Mcsummers focused fics. There is plenty more I enjoy that have Mcsummers and Cherik, or Scott/Logan, etc. If you need more to read feel free to private message me, I am happy to link you to some of these as well.

SFW

“Black Coffee on Fabric” by @crystallized-iron

This one is a short read but it’s super adorable. Poor Hank a bundle of nerves who just wants to cute blond coffee shop worker and just- doesn’t quite stick the landing

“Supersonic” by @silverxsakura

My heart, my weak little heart. Disgustingly sappy fluffy and it’s wonderful. In summary without giving too much away- Alex is dumb like always and has a hard time dealing with his feelings for Hank so like the himbo one we all know- bullies him.

“Animal Transformation” by @eleonorebirk

Short but absolutely adorable. Alex is transformed temporarily into a cat- and his affections from a certain bozo are hard to hide when you happily want to be pet by the guy.

“You left us behind” by @parkshan820

Can I just say parkshan does a lot of amazing Mcsummers work? Seriously at some point I will go down the list and put as many as I can in here. This is a angsty as hell slow burn and it’s the best kind of torture. Also I like to personally thank parkshan for a Alpha/Beta/Omega Mcsummers. A/b/o dynamics written well is one of my favorite things and I think this may be the only Mcsummers one- if not someone link me PLZ. I just- I don’t want to spoil anything, go read it and then cry with me.

“The Magnificent McCoy” by @ag3nt-a

Once again someone else that does a lot of amazing Mcsummers work! Again will have to work down the list and put in some more. All the science puns omg, I love Alex is just as a dorky as Hank and it’s great. Also anything that touches on the fact Alex having some of that intelligence from the comics and the geophysics is perfect.

“Breathe” by @ag3nt-a

Hey look it’s my request! Has it really been 3 years? Weird to think I wasn’t even a adult then. Now I pay taxes and stress over bills. I had a old tumblr by the name of zombiemutt-trash-center, It was a mess and now I am here. 3 years later- doing the same bullshit. ANYWAYS, I do really love this fic. Alex having to calm Hank down and be sweet is always great, but Hank having to help Alex deal with PTSD is perfect. Based on how Alex lost his parents in the comics.

NSFW

“Fighting Acceptance” By @heeroluva

Let me tell you this a fic I constantly go back too. I am a sap for Alex being a caring and supportive bf, but of course still a teasing jerk. All in the name of love. Heeroluva writes that dynamic really nicely, Alex doing his best to be supportive and trying to get Hank to realize he isn’t any different as the Beast. But also is impulsive and well a dumbass. Also of course it’s nsfw and spicy as hell. 10/10 would recommend.

“Who knew books could be hot?” By @ag3nt-a

Just Hank and Alex are horny dorks, who need better guidance in figuring out their feelings. Also Hank is also now a fanfic writer and it just made me want to read fanfics written by a Hank McCoy. Also- it’s really cute seeing Alex being apologetic not just cause attraction, but because he genuinely felt bad. Spice is nice- but like sappy “I’m sorry I was a asshole to you” is god tier—- and then spice later.

“Taste of What Could Have Been” by @atomicrebelomega

Also won’t be the first time you see Atomicrebeloomega! Also-, man fuck apocalypse. So my favorite Alex summers is apocalypse Alex. Aka Suburban Dad Alex summers- I love Alex from first class obviously. But worn out Alex who has calmed on the temper bit and more of a teasing asshole with a stupid grin. So any content with older Alex is much appreciated from me. Alex being the same dumbass at 31 as he was at 16 about his feelings is great. Warning this ends with the apocalypse ending.

“Flicker” by @trojieface

This one is a Apocalypse fix-it. One again grown ass Alex still dumb when it comes to feelings and it’s still great. This is more a nsfw without plot but teeth edition.

“Friendly fire still burns” by 1001cranes

This is a high school/modern Au, Where Hank is president of the NHS and Alex is the football captain. Angst, Fluff and smutt ensue, and it’s great.

“Grooming” by Wangler

So- the idea of Alex helping Hank brush out his fur after he takes a shower is adorable and precious and definitely a head cannon I hold to my heart. I mean- It’s not meant to be adorable in this fic, but leave it to me to make fluff. Also let it be known I enjoy more animalistic Hank, growls, teeth, claws, instincts and all. Alex is a furry what can I say. This one fills my need on those tendencies.

“The Side Project” By @bellsyblue

A more playfully teasing Alex and a Hank who is terrified to break him in half. Once again I love fics that play into more of Hank’s beast mutations like his strength and Alex being more then happy to take all that comes with that.

“Sweater Weather” by emperors_girl

Omg It’s so cheesy and adorable, and I love big brother Alex to Scott. Omg Alex collecting the fur and first thought was “dam this be a nice sweater” is great. Stupid cute and Hank is so done by the end of this.

“Matched” by @ag3nt-a

Big brother Alex and suburban dad looking fool with a stupid grin and awful sappy flirting? Yes please- My favorite kind of dumbass level. A getting together story about two dumb mutants meeting online. Also supportive friend Raven is best Raven. This does have Mpreg and fan kids in it, I personally enjoy these things but I know not everyone does. But as someone who has my own dumb Mcsummers children, I love to see it.

“Power of Persuasion” By @atomicrebelomega

Alex and Angel are friends and it’s great. Basically pure smut but we love to see it. Also Alex has the confidence to wear a stripper outfit and once again- it’s great.

I think this is a good starting point! Honestly I threw this together from my AO3 bookmarks- There is so many more I want to put in here. Ugh, so many good authors. I like writing, but it’s not my strong point. I enjoy drawing these nerds a lot more anyways. But I do have prompts for god dam days if anyone wants them. My free time is spent wondering all the shenanigans these dorks could get into.

If there is a author I didn’t tag but you know they have a account please message me!! I want to link back to the authors, they deserve credit.

#alex summers #hank mccoy #xmen #alexander summers #beast #xmen apocalypse #mcsummers #xmen halex #henry mccoy #havoc #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3fic #ao3 fanfic #all these authors deserve so much praise #you’re doing amazing sweetie

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mouse-fantoms · 3 years

Text

Reach For My Hand, ‘Cause It’s Held Out For You

Read on Ao3!

Tagging (just who I thought would be interested from the post this spawned from): @tmp-jatp @lydias--stiles @1neverendingstories1

More Than A Band but Jatp edition

A top priority when having 90's boys come into your life is of course showing them what they missed out on. It started with Julie putting together a playlist for them.

Another order would be teaching them the terms nowadays. Someone hadto tell Alex that you don’t say ‘periodt’ at the end of every sentence. That though, was a priority for another day.

After showing them music they missed out on, movies were next. It made sense since some of the music she had put on the playlist were songs from movies. She obviously couldn’t show all the movies they missed in the past 25 years, but there were a few that they’d probably like.

Their weekends, so far, had involved Julie setting up the living room for the perfect movie watching experience. A few pillows here and there on the comfy couch, could never go wrong with blankets, a fresh buttery bowl of popcorn, just the essentials.

They were all on the couch, finishing up the rest of Camp Rock. (Luke was immediately hooked on the summer camp with music concept.)

Julie was curled up with a blanket at the end of the couch. Luke was next to her, then Alex followed by Reggie.

“You seriously don’t want a blanket?” Julie asked Luke. She had her knees pulled to her underneath the fabric of warmth.

“I’m telling you I’m not cold.” He repeated another time.

She would have thought it might have just been a ghost thing if it wasn’t for Reggie and Alex constantly tugging at the blanket they shared for blanket space.

“I need it more!” Alex pulled the blanket towards him.

“You have a hoodie on!” Reggie pointed out.

“...I still get cold.”

Julie and Luke rolled their eyes at the pair and were instead more interested at how Mitchie was going to do at the Final Jam.

“Wait, she's singing that song? Wait!” Luke scooted to the edge of the seat, being glued to the tv. “Please tell me he has to recognize it’s her who sang in the beginning. She’s the one!”

Alex put a hand on Luke’s shoulder and pulled him back to the couch.

“I’m sure he will buddy.”

It wasn’t until after the number that Luke noticed Julie dozing off next to him. She’d shake awake a few times when she’d hear the high notes in the music.

“You know we can call it a night if you’re getting tired.”

Her arms came out from under the blanket when she stretched her arms and yawned, “No, no, no, I’m not. I haven’t even shown you guys a favorite of mine yet and I said we’d get to it tonight.”

Once the movie finished she grabbed the remote and went to find one of her favorites.

“This one,” she was interrupted by her own yawn, “is about a band. They form when they’re all in detention together.” A look played on Luke’s face. She sighed, not wanting to be right with an assumption, “...Is that how you guys-”

“No but could you imagine how-” Luke turned to the unamused faces of Alex and Reggie.

“It was always us getting him out of detention.” Alex informed.

She opened her mouth looking to the one in question. “What would you do?”

“He could never put away his journal during class.” Reggie answered.

“It was better than writing on the corners of my papers.”

“How would you get him out of it?”

“Well if the book wasn’t at the teacher’s desk anymore than… no evidence for detention.” Luke summed up.

“Which meant a lot of talking to the teacher while they got it back. ‘Alex, we want you to talk to her.’ ‘Pretend you have a question.’”

“The other option was you guys joining me.”

“Yeah we tried that, they never could give it to Reggie.”

Julie looked curious at the black haired ghost. “Why?”

Alex answered, gesturing to him. “...It’s Reggie.”

“Yeah, can’t argue there.”

She turned her attention back to the tv and brought up the movie.

“Lemonade Mouth? What kind of name is that?” Judged Luke.

Julie laughed to make it even. “What kind of name is Sunset Curve?”

“The kind of one you don’t come up with.” Reggie informed.

“When we were starting out,” the guitarist took the lead in explaining, “we’d play at this street corner. I guess people started liking us and would say to check out the guys at the corner of Sunset Boulevard and Curve Street. Then it just kinda meshed into one with people calling us Sunset Curve.”

“We kind of just went with it.” Alex shrugged.

“Funny, well, you’ll see why they’re called Lemonade Mouth in this.”

She put the movie on and the boys seemed instantly intrigued. It wasn’t until fifteen minutes in that her eyes started to feel drowsy. Maybe Luke was a little bit right, but maybe if she just rested her eyes for a second she’d feel better. Maybe if she just made herself comfortable on the pillow to her right, she’d feel better.

“Luke, can you turn it up a-”

“Can’t.”

“What?” Alex looked at him.

“Can’t move.” He repeated, shifting his eyes to the left.

Alex looked behind Luke to try to see if he could see what he was talking about. He saw Julie’s head closer to Luke. Sure enough, when he looked past him he saw Julie with her head on his shoulder.

“Hgh,” the blonde huffed, “fine I’ll get it.” There was no point in arguing so he instead went out of his way to reach diagonal to grab the remote that was on the coffee table.

It wasn’t tell near the ending of the movie when they eventually dozed off too. However they did catch great songs before they did. Classics such as Turn Up the Music, Determinate, Somebody and a song called More Than a Band, She’s So Gone were a few they caught before they went off to dreams.

~~~

She tried her best to not worry her boys. When she tried though, all they did was.

They knew something was off when she didn’t stop by to tell them bye before she left for school. Also when Luke paid her a visit during school she just seemed detached. Reggie noted Ray seemed off and Carlos for that matter too.

The ghost was hanging around with Ray in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for Carlos before he left for the morning. Reggie leaned against the archway to the dining room, watching Ray as he cooked scrambled eggs on the stove. Carlos came down the stairs, his bag slung over his shoulder, and came around to the stool of the counter.

“Do you know what we’re having for dinner?”

Ray looked over his shoulder, as he dumped the pan of eggs on a plate, “You haven’t even had breakfast yet.” He chuckled, setting the plate in front of him and opening the drawer to give him a fork.

“I know but…” He trailed off, taking the fork that was put next to his plate, looking to his dad in hopes he got what he was meaning. From him touching the ring on his ring finger, he got the memo.

“...I can talk to your Tía about bringing something over for tonight.” There was a light nod of his head. Carlos shared the same nod as he dove into his eggs.

Meanwhile Reggie leaned at the archway, suddenly now understood.

~~~

She hadn’t talked to them much the whole day. The studio that turned into her home didn’t feel like much of one today. Just a reminder.

After dinner, she found herself going up to her room, changing into her pajamas and finding comfort on her bed. She sat crisscross, her hand drawn to the scripture necklace she wore. She didn’t appear to catch the familiar poof sound until she looked to the left from seeing something in the corner of her eye appear. She saw her boys, looking sympathetic.

It was like they were a reminder. The reminder that they were here but… she wasn’t.

Luke stepped cautious, taking a seat on the mattress at the foot of her bed. “...Guessing movie night is postponed tonight.” He tried to make conversation.

She answered by turning on her side away from him, her necklace still in her hand, not realizing her foot had accidently hit Luke in the thigh when she turned over. Usually it was a nice reminder when they touched, today though, was not one of those times.

Luke looked to his friends standing opposite of him. Their expressions looked the same as his, wanting a suggestion of what to do, he looked back to Julie.

She was rubbing her fingers across her necklace in the silence until there wasn’t any.

“I can’t pretend,” she was caught off guard by his singing and what it sounded like, “to know how you feel, but know that I’m here and know that I’m real.”

Real. That word got her to look through her curls at him. He looked at the other two to join in.

“Say what you want,” Alex sang, stepping towards her bed, “or don’t talk at all, I’m not gonna let you fall.” He knelt down to be eye level.

“Reach for my hand ‘cause it’s held out for you,” Reggie joined Alex in kneeling next to her bed, “my shoulders are small but you can cry on them too. Everything changes but one thing is true, understand.” He looked to Luke to take the part.

“We’ll always be more than a band.”

They weren’t just singing lyrics. Even when she turned over to face them, they carried on.

“You used to brave the world all on your own.” Alex continued.

“Now we won’t let you go.” Luke added.

“Go it alone.” Reggie followed.

“Be who you wanna be, always stand tall.” Luke leaned in a little towards her, smiling at the two words, remembering the song they finished writing together. She smiled back, not being able to help herself. “Not gonna let you fall.”

They sang together, looking and smiling as they did. “Reach for my hand cause it's held out for you. My shoulders are strong, but you can cry on them too. Everything changes but one thing is true, understand. We'll always be more than a band.” They looked to her to continue.

With a wide smile she followed, “I never knew you could take me so far.” The proud smiles on them were hard to miss. “I’ve always wanted to hope that you are the ones I need.”

They repeated the chorus together, harmonizing, voices blending beautifully. “But one thing is true, understand.”

“We’ll always be more than a band.” They dropped out to let Julie finish.

She couldn’t help but look at her boys, proud smiles plastered on them as she looked at each.

“I didn’t know you guys stayed up to watch that.” She found the words to say.

“You said it was a favorite of yours.” Reggie shrugged as if it was obvious.

“You can’t go wrong with a band.” Luke summed up.

“Also Luke couldn’t move so that’s another reason we stayed.”

She let out a light huff from Alex’s statement. She grabbed her necklace again, looked down at it then back to them.

“...Thank you guys. We’ll always be more than a band.” She dropped the necklace and opened her arms, inviting them.

They made a hug with two people kneeling on the floor, work. She might not have been there but she sent the boys to her daughter. Maybe a reminder wasn’t always bad to have. This would be a reminder that they were a family. Family first, band second.

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j-pankratz · 3 years

Text

The Slumber that Creeps to Me

Geraskefer. 7208 Words. Rated T. Jaskier pulls an extreme all-nighter (read: 60+ hours) to finish a paper he procrastinated on, and finds at the end of it that sleep does not come as easily as he’d hoped. Tags for: Sleep Deprivation, Self Destruction/Lack of Self Care, Hallucinations, Nightmares, Overstimulation, Hurt/Comfort, Whumping the Bard, very loving partners, and a happy ending. <3 AO3 link in the reblog!

As with most disasters spurned by his own cockiness, Jaskier felt as thought that all in all, the situation could have been worse.

The idea to have Geralt and Yennefer spend the spring holiday break at Oxenfurt was, in his defense, ingenious. His students weren’t around, the weather was gorgeous, they all had varying degrees of business in the city, and they could fuck each other senseless at any hour of the day. In a bed. A nice one, provided he was a legitimate professor, now. Well, visiting. Well, it was complicated. But they were his rooms, and that’s what mattered.

When Jaskier gotten the prestigious offer to write the season’s main article for the Continent’s most respected Bardic Journal, he’d just sort of figured he’d… fit it in, somewhere. He had seventeen months, which was plenty enough for him. Then he’d just work with the editors, and have a centerfold piece. It was an honor. He was excited about it! He’d meant to get to it sooner, but decided the summer before that he’d devote the winter to it. But… he’d… he’d been distracted. It wasn’t often the entire family gathered at Kaer Morhen. So, he thought, he’d do it later.

But the first few weeks after winter were, of course, spent with Geralt. And the week after that, a trip to the coast, where he’d played a festival and met up with Ciri, who was becoming an amateur critic herself. And then by pure, absolute happenstance, after 3 more weeks of travel he happened to end up at an inn that he definitely hadn’t heard Yennefer was staying at. So that more time gone. And then he’d arrived in Oxenfurt, and he’d really meant to get to work on it, but there was so much to prepare for! He wanted things to be right for them.

And then Yennefer and Geralt had actually arrived, and the idea of anything possibly being more important than their presence flew his mind.

And now, here he was. If he wanted to get it in on time (unfortunately, that wasn’t a suggestion in this case, more of an actual, terrifying requirement,) he’d need to submit it in… gods above, less than three days. 60 hours, if he was doing the math.

There was no word limit, nor a minimum. But, ever the maximalist, he knew it was going to be… long, if he was going to do it right. They’d edit it down, but it was the focal point of the journal, they’d been leading up to it for ages now. Ahh. Well. There was only one thing for it, he supposed.

“I’m working through the night on my paper!” He’d announced that morning, sitting straight up in bed, jostling his sleepy lovers. “No one bother me! I will be at the dining table until further notice!” He swung himself out of bed and made for the door.

“Pants,” his lovers chorused together.

“Right!” he'd said, and marched back into the room.

He’d pulled all-nighters in his youth. In fact, he couldn’t count the times he’d worked through the night, deposited a composition or essay on his professor’s desk with some polite conversation and maybe a wink, and then promptly fallen asleep during the lecture itself. Just a 15-minute power nap, really! Then he’d be back up and at it again, working through another night just to sleep through the weekend. He’d done it before, he could do it again.

Well, it’d been 25 years ago, but that didn’t change much, did it? He still felt spry, agile, hearty— hell, he’d spent the better part of the last twenty odd years chasing after a Witcher, and later an additional princess and mage— surely he should be in better health now!

This was completely accomplishable. Admittedly, he could have written this sooner… but he hadn’t, and here he was.

Geralt and Yennefer both set out early on different errands, leaving the bard to some peace and quiet. Relatively.

He spread his work and references out before him. 7 books, 4 pamphlets, his favorite quills, a hundred fresh pieces of parchments, his lute at his knee. “Alright,” he said aloud to his empty Oxenfurt apartment, “Just sit down and write the damn thing. Sitting part, definitely done. Writing next. Just… write.”

He stared at the page.

“No! No, no, do not be impossible about this. Just start the thing.”

The page stared back.

“Ah, blast,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. This was fine. Just… do the awful, disgusting part of beginning, and then he’d be off. The sooner he started, the sooner he’d finish, after all! He took a breath, and put his pen to paper.

Yennefer returned a few hours later, a book and small parcel in hand. Jaskier looked up to see her sweep through the room, a commanding presence, though she didn’t acknowledge him yet. A few waves of her hands and a pot of tea was put on to boil, her hair was put in a bun, and three mugs were floating down from a shelf.

“Lovely to see you too,” he smiled as Yennefer poked through the tea collection. He could practically hear her fond eye roll. She neatly plucked two from one box and looked back at him in question. “Ah… peppermint, if we’ve got it?” and she turned back to the cupboard grab it.

“Any progress?” She finally asked.

“A bit, actually!” Jaskier said cheerfully. It didn’t look like much, but he’d done half a page with almost no errors, and he’d made plenty of notes in the margins of the books he’d need later. It was better than he’d hoped it’d be going by this point, at least. He was kicking academia’s ass. Or, he would be.

The kettle whistled and Yennefer poured the tea, bobbing all three of the tea bags up and down as they steeped. He watched her lean against the counter, casual, relaxed, gorgeous, before realizing she was staring back at him. “Um! Yes, no, definitely good. Got a lot of… those words, you know, they are definitely here. Looking very sexy. The words! The writing is looking… very sexy, very curvy… letters. Sensuous words, you know.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Sensuous words.”

“Yeah, yes. Like… contemporaneous… and… iguana.”

“Iguana.” She let out a little huff of a laugh and something in Jaskier’s chest tightened and loosened in quick succession. And in a moment she was there, sliding him a large mug with the carving of a rather playful looking bear on one side, batting at a butterfly.

“Oh! My favorite. Thank you, thank you.”

“Mmm,” she said before waving a hand to cool down their tea a bit. She took a seat opposite him, scanning an eye over the table. “Think you’ll be done by tonight?”

Jaskier laughed. “Darling, I’ll be lucky to be done by tomorrow morning.”

“You’re planning to stay up all night, bard?”

“Unfortunately.” He took a sip. “Should be done by tomorrow afternoon, if I keep steady at it.”

“After tea, of course.”

“Of course.”

Yennefer stretched out a bit, kicking her feet onto Jaskier’s lap and rolling her neck. They sat there a moment, sipping, pausing, drinking in each other. There was something nice about taking a moment of stillness with someone just as frenetic as he was, someone who was usually just as itching for something to do, even if she went about it differently. The grace of choosing stillness, he thought, was not something to ignore.

Yennefer reached the end of her mug and tapped its ceramic walls lightly.

“What’s next for you?”

“I have to refresh my potion stock, so I’ll be at the market for supplies. You sure you don’t want to take a break and join?”

Rat’s ass. He fucking loved the Oxenfurt markets. “I’m afraid I can’t. Academia calls.”

“Who does it call for, exactly? What’s that I hear…” She cocked her head and listened intently. “Who is it calling for… is that… V… Val… Valdo?” Jaskier hefted her feet off of his lap in protest, and she laughed. He plucked his quill from its stopper, and went back to hovering over his paper. Introduction mostly accomplished, now he had to really lead in to his point, give some proper context. He flipped through a book beside him.

Yennefer rose smoothly from the table and went to move her mug to the sink. “When Geralt gets in, tell him I need toadflax and bluebells from him? Might as well put him to use.”

Jaskier flipped through the pages, thumbing through for a note he’d sworn he’d made ages ago, when he belatedly tried to register his mage’s words. He could have his fun, too.

“Blue…Yennefer, you want me to tell Geralt that you need blue balls from him?”

“Bells! Bells, you absolute child!” she said. “Honestly. Blue balls? Really, Jaskier?” He was giggling. “I don’t need to ask to give either of you blue balls.”

“Exactly, Yennefer, you provide that service for us anyway, free of charge!” A balled-up napkin hit him in the head and he laughed joyfully.

“I can’t stand you. I’m leaving, you’ll never see me again.”

Jaskier looked up through his grin and met her twinkling, happy eyes. “Tonight then?”

“Tonight,” she agreed, and left with a quick ruffle of his hair.

“Still working?” Geralt said as greeting later in the afternoon. The desk was neater than Jaskier expected it to be this far in, only a few books open, dog eared and marked in colored ink. He’d written a page and a half since Yennefer left, and it was good, it was, but he’d need to go back and make edits later. His long empty mug of tea sat far across him.

“Mm,” he agreed, continuing to write. “Ah, Yennefer came through earlier,” giving a gesture to the waiting mug of tea on the counter. Geralt made his way over to the mug, and gave it a small igni to warm it. He smiled fondly down at the drink—what a terribly lovely sight he was. Warm here, and safe. Couldn’t it be like this always? The three of them here, comfortable and happy? No, he supposed, but gods how he wanted it.

“She’s at the market now,” Jaskier continued, “wanted me to ask you about...” He lifted his pen and squinted. “Ah, toadflax and bluebells.” He looked up at Geralt, smiling. “Blue balls,” they said together, sporting matching shit-eating grins, Geralt’s albeit much smaller. “I made the same joke myself,” Jaskier added.

Geralt snorted. “How’d she take that?”

“Oh, as well as you’d hope. We’ll never see her again, of course.” He turned back to his work, reading over the last paragraph. He could feel Geralt approach to stand behind him, and while he’d normally shoo his witcher off, he was too deep in concentration to bother.

How long was too long to linger on the progression of oral storytelling to bardship? It’s not like he could ignore it, (Geralt’s hand came to grip his shoulder, a thumb rubbing against it tenderly) as it was a crucial tenant of the argument— but there was plenty to be said for assuming the literacy and foreknowledge of the reader. (He leaned in to get a closer look at Jaskier’s page, the soft warmth of the tea in his other hand bouncing off his chest) But this was to be in a journal often referenced by first years, and he knew how much he would have loved a paper that had everything all in one—

“How’s it going?” Geralt asked softly in his ear.

Jaskier waved a hand over the mess before him. “You know. It’s fine, I’m just not sure at what point I’m lingering on points to excess.”

“Mm,” Geralt hummed understandingly. “Tell the story. Trust your gut.” He gave Jaskier a nuzzle and light kiss against his cheek before taking up the empty mug off the table and walking off further into the apartment.

“I always do!” Jaskier called back. Mm, if only this were as simple as telling a story. Well…Oh—if he spent this paragraph referencing the progression it would end up taking up more room, be a run of the mill lead-in, but if he wrote the actual history as a short story itself, now there was an idea, he could make his point and give the context. Oh, fuck, brilliant—

“Back soon,” Geralt was saying as the front door slipped shut, but the bard was too lost in his work to do more than give a small nod of his head.

The sun was falling, making a graceful bow into the horizon. Warm light spread out over the streets of Oxenfurt like the last pushes of tide, ebbing, and flowing, and sinking back into night.

“Ah, fuck,” Jaskier muttered, crossing out a spelling error with a snarl.

His shoulders ached, and his lower back was going to be the death of him. He was on page 7. All he could see was the work ahead of him, winding off ad infinitum. If he didn’t pick up the pace, he might have to go 60 hours straight—he shivered. Not ideal. He took a breath, stood up and stretched a bit, his muscles groaning in thanks. A quick bathroom break later and he was sliding back into his chair, still warm, his papers grinning up at him, sardonic.

He’d take a meal break at 10 pages, he told himself.

He stood to stretch and his head swam. Well. Plenty of reason to stay seated, he supposed.

Geralt and Yennefer returned at 12 and a half pages. He turned his head in greeting, and when he looked back he got the first real look at the table in hours—it was a disaster, crumbled pieces of parchment, empty quills, and little notes strewn everywhere. Some books propped open, the pile of parchment looking more like a mountain slope, an empty glass from when he’d chugged water hours ago.

His loves were clearly a few drinks deep as they came through the door, and completely unmarred by the woes of academia. Bastards, honestly.

“Hi, hello, hope you had a good evening, I—”

“Come to bed,” Yennefer said, suddenly right behind him. Two small but firm hands came to his shoulders, rubbing deeply.

“Ah! Oh, fuck—oh, yes, darling, right there—”

Geralt came to his other side, tipping his head up for a kiss, which he moaned into. His witcher’s tongue was soft, pleading, tempting him—his mage’s hands pushing almost painfully against his aching muscles. He wanted to cry, it was so good. It was so different than the last… however many hours it had been that he had been sitting here. Geralt pulled away, and Yennefer’s hands came to rest as well.

“So?” Geralt asked, his voice deep and velvety. “Bed?”

“I…” gods, who had he become? “I can’t. I want to, I just—”

Yennefer placed a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s fine,” she said, and he knew it was, but he hated denying them something they all wanted. “Have you eaten?”

Jaskier frowned. “Fuck. Not really.”

Geralt sighed and went to the pantry. “You’re getting a sandwich,” he grumbled.

“Ooo, Geralt, dear heart, would you heat it up? Use some of your,” he wiggled his fingers “your witchery magic?”

Geralt turned and glared. “You’re getting a sandwich.”

“He’s so mean to me,” Jaskier muttered to Yennefer, “I can’t believe he’s so mean to me.”

His mage snorted a laugh into his hair. “You’re really staying up all night, then?” She waved a hand and the curtains around the room swept shut, and his lantern began to burn steadily.

“Looks like it,” he sighed. Geralt retuned a moment later, plated warm sandwich and glass of water in hand.

“Fuck. Thank you.” He took it and took a bite, suddenly ravenous. He looked up at both of them, staring down in fond amusement. “Fank—” he swallowed his mouthful of sandwich. “Thank you both, truly. I’ll be up a bit. If you need something, call, yes?”

They rolled their eyes. “He tells us to call if we need anything,” Yennefer muttered. “Don’t get into any trouble,” she said, and with a peck on the cheek from both of them, they disappeared into the bedroom.

He looked back at his work.

Okay. 12 ½ pages in. He could do this.

At 15 pages, he felt ravenous again, and made a second sandwich. Not as good as Geralt’s. Geralt’s sandwiches weren’t even that good, but they were made by Geralt, which added a certain kick, a novelty he adored.

He drank another glass of water and shook his head. Back to work.

At 17 pages, sometimes the world swam before him. He gripped the edge of the table. Fuck.

He was so tired. 23 pages. He kept writing.

It was terrible. The whole paper was a mess. Nothing made sense and people were going to laugh at him. 25 pages.

He heard a sound. Was that Geralt rising for the bathroom? Was it an intruder? Light crept in through the window. 27 pages.

There was a ringing in his ear. His writing was getting increasingly larger. 27 ½ pages.

Geralt gave him a soft nuzzle to the top of his head before padding through to the kitchen. Jaskier’s heart ached. His bones ached. Writing was hard but right then it felt impossible. 27 ¾ pages.

Geralt lingered, and Jaskier felt his nose twitch. He tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for him to leave. He couldn’t have any distractions right now. He shut his eyes tight until he heard the bedroom door close once more.

Yennefer entered hours later, sweeping the curtains over with a flick of her hand. Bright light flooded the room, painting the desk in all its full, disgustingly messy glory. “Well—”

“Could you ask next time?!” Jaskier snapped. “Some of us need consistency to concentrate!”

Yennefer raised an eyebrow, and they stared at each other. Some part of him wanted to slap himself but the rest was just so irritated. Who’d she think she was, anyway?

After a moment, the mage turned and left with a flick of her hand to sweep the curtains shut again.

“Headed out,” Geralt said at 30 pages. “Contract.”

“Good,” Jaskier muttered. “I mean. Good that you’re—fuck. Whatever.”

Geralt stared. “You need rest. It’s been more than 24 hours.”

“I need to fucking finish.”

“Yen said—”

“I’m sure she did,” Jaskier muttered, driving his heels into his eyes. Gods, his eyes burned. Silence hung.

“She portaled out this morning.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Great. Love that. I’m a fucking disaster, thank you for the reminder, Geralt.” He waved toward the door. “Don’t you have a contract?”

He turned back to his papers, shifting around to look for page 11, and didn’t think about how long it took before Geralt left the apartment.

His hand was shaking but he was at 34 pages. He still had so much to say. Fuck. But he was in it now.

He scarfed down some soup that was mostly broth at some point, and he’d under-salted it, but it was something. His eyes kept going blurry; traitorous things.

The bear on his mug was plotting his downfall.

38 pages and Jaskier felt like the gods themselves had gifted him with the knowledge he now bestowed onto meager commoners. He was a genius.

At 43 pages, he had stopped to lay out the entire essay on the ground, so he could see it all. The words sometimes swam before him, and he had trouble remembering what he was meant to say next. Once, he looked up, confused as to where he was. And then, at 44 pages, the guilt of snapping at his dearest loves, the weight of this behemoth paper he wasn’t even sure he could finish, and his own self-doubt crept in and seized him up, leaving him breathless and in tears for… awhile. Everything hurt. He had to keep going.

At 48 pages, he saw a griffon fly through his window, and he named it Kalvin. He turned whatever color Jaskier wanted him to turn, which was very considerate of him. Kalvin was his only friend now, and with a little convincing, might become his editor, too.

At 55 pages his chest seized, and it was hard to breathe for a moment. He closed his eyes but—no, no, couldn’t do that. If he fell asleep now, he’d never finish in time. He tried to relax, got some water, leaned against the counter. Everything was a mess.

He sat back on the floor, his work around him. Keep going.

“I don’t think there’s anything about anything that I have to be doing right now. Kalvin, you’ve… you’ve got to understand, this could be my finest work! It’s good. It’s pretty good here in… in this part, here. In that other part it’s just okay, but that’s why you come in with your big claws and you’re gonna. Rip up the bad parts. Don’t rip up the good parts. Right? Yeah. Do you think they’ve forgotten about me by now?”

He looked down. 57 pages. Took a long blink.

“Yeah,” he said softly, “That’s fair.

He had to write two extra pages so that he could skirt around referencing Valdo Marx’s work as anything other than a contradictory point. Maybe it would have been fun to use his own writing against him but he didn’t want to give the satisfaction of being referenced positively in a centerfold piece.

He lost the essay.

“Fuck—oh, gods, where did—”

He turned around, looked down. Oh, there it was.

“Thank fuck.”

The curtains were still closed and the charmed lantern was still burning, but Jaskier knew it was night by the time he reached 63 pages and Geralt came in.

Jaskier looked up from his spot kneeling on the floor. Geralt looked fine. He was a little dirty. There were some gushy bits. Probably blood. He was tired. Or just mad. Maybe he hated Jaskier.

“You’re still—?!” Geralt asked, looking at Jaskier like he’d just said a griffon named Kalvin had flown in the window earlier and now they were friends.

“I met a griffon,” Jaskier heard himself say. Geralt stared. “We’re friends now.”

“…You need to fucking sleep.”

“No.” Jaskier went back to the margin he’d devoted to drawing circles in. “Sorry ‘bout earlier.”

Geralt sighed. He might have talked but Jaskier didn’t hear, just kept writing.

“How often has that been happening?” he heard Geralt ask.

“What happening?”

“Where you fall asleep for a moment.”

“I haven’t! Fallen asleep.”

“Fuck,” Geralt said. He looked very nice, except for the goop all over him. Well. Even that wasn’t so bad, when the underneath bits were Geralt. His Geralt. Looked so warm, so strong, so able to carry him.

“Later,” Jaskier replied, and went back to his words. The familiar pop of a portal sounded in the bedroom. Their eyes lingered on the direction it came from, but Yennefer didn’t open the door. They looked at each other, and then back at the door which remained very much shut. “She’s mad.”

“Yep.”

“At me.”

“Yep.”

There was a pause. “Are you covered in blood?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh.”

“Not mine.”

“That,” he said pointing to the Witcher, “is good.”

“Mmm.”

“Sticky though.”

“Definitely sticky.”

Yennefer came out of the doorway, and Jaskier blinked. When he opened his eyes again she was much closer than she’d been and was in the middle of talking. Magic, he assumed.

“—yourself very lucky, bard.”

“Yeahh,” he said. “Sorry. ‘Bout… Sorry.”

She huffed and crossed her arms. There was a look in her face. Eyes? And her mouth. It was hard to name. Words were hard, when they weren’t the words he desperately needed to write.

“—for a while,” Geralt was saying. “Jaskier. How close are you to finishing.”

“Soon!” Jaskier said. “Soon! Soon. Due… 1pm tomorrow. What time is it?”

“10pm.”

“Fuck. Psshhh. I can… I can do it.” He looked up at Yennefer. “Sorry. Really. I… I’m just tired,” he admitted. “Shouldn’t have snapped. Not fair to you.”

Yennefer stood there, arms folded, emanating some emotion Jaskier had lost the concept of around page 41. Geralt walked further into the apartment, into the bedroom. Oh right. Blood armor. Ick.

He went back to writing and tried to ignore the desire to cry again, and then suddenly Yennefer’s shoes were in his line of vision.

“Let me read it,” she said.

“Oh.”

They stared at one another. She had such a pretty face. He might have been smiling. She rolled her eyes and then came to sit next to him. She quickly found the first page and began.

Halfway through it, he spilled ink on the bottom half of page 64, and wept. Yennefer gave him an attempt at a comforting pat on the back.

Yennefer had read the pages and risen; “It’s good. You need edits, but it’s somehow decent. Good. Whatever. A little… loose, toward the end, though,” made herself a cup of tea, and entered the bedroom.

Either a few moments, or 20 minutes later, Geralt emerged.

“What are you at now?”

“69 pages.”

“Nice,” Geralt said.

“Ha. Yeahhh,” Jaskier agreed.

“That’s not what I—” Geralt sighed the sigh that meant his face was going all pinch-y. “Close to the end?”

“Mmm. What is the end, really?” Geralt made a different pinch-y face. “Soon.”

“Come to bed tonight, Jaskier.”

“I’ll try,” he said. He blinked, and Geralt was gone.

There are a lot of words in an essay that are very hard to spell.

Jaskier ate the rest of a loaf of bread.

For a while, he swore he walked the streets of Oxenfurt while still warm in his professorial housing.

Kalvin’s accent changed three times and at one point he was on fire.

85 pages.

Geralt woke first, as always; There he was! That was his love. So much of his heart.

With shaking hands, Jaskier had brought himself up to sit in his chair, and sat staring down at his work. He looked up at Geralt with a lopsided grin. “I did it,” he said weakly.

“Need help putting it together?”

The tears fell so quickly he didn’t realize it was happening. “Really?”

Geralt sighed softly and knelt down, organizing the papers.

Yennefer emerged a bit later—There she was! His love, a chunk of him was hers entirely. He smiled. “Look!”

“Mmm. And now you can sleep.”

“NO!” Jaskier cried and leapt to his feet, “No, no, now… now is presenting time. To… the editors. Not Kalvin. But I turn it in… and then sleep,”

He had a sudden burst of energy, and tried to step over Geralt and the papers, but fell into the table instead, before the Witcher steadied him from below.

“Ohhhh, thank you dear. It’s time for… presentation! Mm.” He leaned into Yennefer’s warmth at his side, though she did not wrap her arms around him as he’d hoped. “Help me pick out an outfit.”

He blinked. Yennefer was in front of him now, looking at him with a frown, her hands around his waist. Geralt’s hand was against his forehead. “No! Stop that! I’m fine. I’m fine! See me! Fine. It’s action time. Let’s go!” and he marched off to the bedroom.

The floor was suddenly very close to his face.

“Did I—”

“You fell on your face.”

“Have I—”

“You’ve asked three times now, yes.”

There should have been fanfare when he turned it in, but there was only the grateful smile of Edmond, the young new assistant, a firm handshake, and a promise he’d hear back from them very soon, for a quick summarization of their initial thoughts. Or, he’d used all those words, Jaskier forgot which order they’d come in.

The three returned to the apartment, and everything happened very slowly and so quickly he found it hard to keep track. There was definitely a bath drawn for him—gods, it had been days, hadn’t it— oh, fuck, he was gross, wasn’t he—a full meal, and a celebratory drink. He’d made a few good jokes, and all he could see were Geralt and Yennefer, smiling at him. An empty glass. A bar of soap. A long quill. A messy table. A pile of books and an empty mug. They deposited him on the bed for sleep, and left together.

Jaskier lay there, waiting for sleep to take him.

It did not.

He was so tired he could cry. He did, a few times. He couldn’t think straight. All of it, everything, hurt. His body ached. He tried to soothe himself down alone, rocking himself in the hopes it would work. But nothing.

What if he could never sleep again? What if he would always be awake, forever? What if this was how he died?! Oh gods, he didn’t want to die! He still had edits to approve!

Eventually, he could feel himself getting closer. He adjusted himself, lay on his back and took deep, measured breaths, kept his eyes closed but relaxed. Okay. Okay. Sleep.

He was falling, so violently and so fast that when he jolted awake, he forgot he’d been lying on a bed in the first place.

Fuck.

He tried again. It happened sometimes, it was fine. He’d be fine.

He tried breathing deeply once more, trying to let the distant scents of Yennefer and Geralt now embedded in his pillows overtake him.

A fear so powerful it gripped his heart and twisted, whispered to him, ‘this is what dying is, you’re going to die’ and he once again jolted awake. He threw his head back against the pillow and winced; even that hurt.

Fuck. Fuck.

He kept trying. Over, and over, he’d get so close to sleep and then right at the precipice, something would yank him out of it.

Once, he saw Yennefer falling off a cliff. Another time, he saw Geralt stabbed through the chest. At some point, he saw Ciri screaming, and his hands flew out to pull her close, only to find nothing there. Sometimes it was himself falling, and sometimes it was the world below him falling instead.

He’d really done it this time. Stayed awake so long, sleep had abandoned him entirely.

It felt like twelve years before Yennefer and Geralt returned, slipping into the room quietly. He sat up in bed, startling them both.

“Please,” he said quietly, “I can’t. I don’t know why I can’t I just—I can’t. My body won’t let me, I want to but I can’t—”

“How the hell—” Yennefer started, walking over to him with a palm out to check for a curse, maybe? It didn’t matter. He wrapped her hand in his and clutched it to himself, desperate for her. She was so warm. So alive.

“Fuck,” Geralt sighed, “It’s been nearly 70 hours already, Jaskier.”

“Let me just put him down with magic,” Yennefer started, but Geralt put a hand up.

“We can’t. It’s a temporary fix. if he can’t fall asleep on his own without magic, it’ll get harder and harder for him. We need to get him to fall asleep without it.” They looked down at him. What a disgrace he must look like, how pathetic he was. He turned his face away in abject shame. He couldn’t even fall asleep right.

While he looked away, Yennefer tore her hand from his as she and Geralt discarded their clothes into heaps beside the bed, crawled beneath the covers on either side of Jaskier. They hated him. They must. How could they not?

“It’s fine, you don’t—fuck, sorry—”

Geralt shrugged. “Don’t be. I know how bad it gets. It’s different for a Witcher, but no sleep is the whole reason we met Yennefer.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jaskier said softly.

“As I recall, the solution then was to have vigorous sex on the floor.” Yennefer ran a finger along Jaskier’s chest. “Sound appealing?”

“I—yes, Yennefer, it sounds appealing.” He fidgeted, tried to focus on the feeling of Yennefer’s delicate touch. He was oversensitive enough that it felt like fire, but nothing… stirred, and each word he spoke felt like he was pulling honey from his tongue. “I don’t… much as I’d like, I’m not sure I’d be... up for it right now.” Yennefer’s head fell against the pillow and she flattened her hand, ran the palm up his chest to rest above his heart. Pressed a kiss there.

He closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply, but they were looking at him, he could feel every inch of their gazes and it was all too much. He whined in agony. “I can’t do this. Fuck. I can’t, just put me out. We try it again tomorrow, I—”

“Jaskier. You can. Tell us what you need and we can help you,” Yennefer said, sweet but firm. And that was her, wasn’t it?

He couldn’t think. Wanted to. Wanted so much. Wanted to be asleep.

Jaskier curled up on his side, exhausted of being exhausted, when he felt Geralt slide up closer behind him. “Can I hold you?” he murmured into the bard’s shoulder. Jaskier nodded, and felt Geralt’s arm come around him and under his own arm, felt it slide up his chest and cross it protectively.

“Feel good?” Jaskier nodded, and then cracked his eyes open, met Yennefer’s, concern palpable.

He lifted one arm just slightly. “C’mere?” And she did, curled into his arms and around him, tucked her head under his, kissed the top of Geralt’s fingers. He held her close, and was held by the two in turn. Breathing, somehow, felt easier between them.

“Breathe, bard,” Yennefer urged him softly. Geralt buried his nose in Jaskier’s hair, took in a deep breath, and Jaskier tried to follow.

They breathed softly, all together, slow and safe. Soon, he was drifting into sweet oblivion.

‘You,’ Fear said, wrapped around his sternum, ‘will crumble, the moment you let go of wakefulness.’ It gripped him, and tugged him back to reality.

He jolted again. “Fuck, dammit, cock wringing—”

Yennefer pulled back to look at him worriedly. “Is that what’s been keeping you up?” she asked.

“It’s, I don’t know, something just pulls me back, I try to fight it but…”

“Mmm,” Geralt agreed. “Sleep starts. Happens sometimes.”

“The hell are sleep starts?”

“They’re… when you’re too on edge to sleep, or just haven’t in too long, brains… fizzle. Keep you awake. It’s a survival instinct—it makes you think you’ve got to stay awake to stay alive. Feels like falling? Or… a shock. Sometimes other things. Hallucinations.” Geralt pressed a kiss to the back of his head. “It’s scary. It’s meant to be. Your body thinks it’s fighting for its life.”

“I am never letting you doom yourself like this ever again,” Yennefer said, and while it was probably meant to come out angry, she just sounded worried.

Geralt hummed and agreement. “Try again, we’ve got you. We’re not letting go.” Jaskier took a breath. They had him. They had him.

Yennefer lifted a hand to Jaskier’s temple. “May I?” And he let her in, easier than breathing. She gave him Ciri laughing, wind chimes on the breeze, the soft roar of the coast. Geralt hugged him tight, ran his other hand through Jaskier’s hair, tried to keep the bard’s breathing aligned. Now, what had he ever done to earn these two?

Soon, sleep came to him again, and he could feel Yennefer ready to soothe anything that came for him in his mind, Geralt ready to defend against anything that dared hurt his resting body. The darkness crept in, and he felt peace.

Geralt was reaching for him, falling, bleeding, screaming.

“FUCK!”

“Shh,” the real Geralt hushed him. “We’ve got you.”

“Fuck, there’s got to be something else,” Yennefer groaned. “What’ve you tried so far?”

“I have tried… to fall asleep.”

Yennefer and Geralt both huffed small laughs. “No. Positions—”

“Only the good ones.”

“Meditating?” Geralt asked.

“Darling, I haven’t had a thought in my head in hours. This is meditation.”

“Drugs?” Yennefer asked.

“I will try the drugs!” Jaskier said with a drowsy cheerfulness, as Geralt replied “No drugs. No.”

“Ugh,” Jaskier groaned, and shifted to lie on his stomach. Oh. This was… better. He nestled into the pillows, and a soft contented sigh drifted from him.

“That feel better?” Geralt asked as he ran a hand up and down Jaskier’s back. “Mmm,” Jaskier replied. Yennefer’s hand joined Geralt over his chest. Oh, they were going to make him cry.

And then it was too much, too much feeling, like his brain couldn’t handle all the sensation, and he felt Yennefer come to pause, and a moment later, Geralt’s hand as well. ‘That better?’ Yennefer asked in his mind. Jaskier gave her the memory of his favorite hug with her, warm and happy as her legs wrapped around his waist, and his favorite with Geralt, crushing and firm and full of too many emotions to speak aloud.

“Could…” he said softly, “Just. Talk? Not to me. Just… to each other. Just wanna hear you.” He could almost hear their smiles, and felt as they settled in on the pillows beside him, arms and hands intertwining on his back. Yennefer’s head on his shoulder, the gentle planes of Geralt’s chest on his other side. “If you need us, Yennefer and I are here. We’ve got you. You’re safe.”

He nodded into the mattress, cool and soft below him.

“Goodnight, Jaskier.”

“G’night Yennefer.”

“Goodnight, Jaskier.”

"G’night, Geralt.”

He started to fade into oblivion, but stopped himself before he got too far. Not fear, not anxiety, a conscious stopping. Somewhere above him, Geralt was telling Yennefer about the contract from… sometime in the past few days, and Yennefer was telling her own story about some town gossip with a woman and her hens, which, it might have been a metaphor, but he’d basically forgotten what those were by now. He breathed deeply, felt their words flow through him, and when he felt brave enough, he let go, trusting they would catch him.

He could have sworn he heard wind chimes, somewhere.

The small amount of light filtering in through the curtains was golden when he awoke. His head both ached and felt light as a feather, his muscles screamed and cried but half of it was in relief. He gave a small stretch and yawned. “G’morning,” an amused Geralt said to him, lounging in a chair he’d brought beside the bed, reading a book. His legs were propped up on the bed beside the bard’s and Jaskier stretched to bump their toes together.

“What time…?”

“You slept 13 hours.”

“Fuck.”

“You probably need more.”

“Yeahhhh.”

“Feel alright?”

“Like a real human being,” he said. “Hungry, though.”

“Mmm.”

Yennefer slipped in the door, but, noticing Jaskier was awake, rose a hand. “May I?” she asked, voice dripping in sarcasm, gesturing to the curtains.

“You may,” Jaskier offered, covering his face with his hands. “Ohhhh, gods, how bad was I?”

“Genuinely awful,” Yennefer said, as Geralt was saying, “There’s been worse.”

“Normally I’d withhold this,” the mage said, withdrawing a small envelope from her pocket. “But, under the circumstances…” she cleared her throat.

“To one Julian Alfred Pankratz. We were extremely pleased to receive your manuscript yesterday afternoon. Our editors are will have their notes to you by the weekend, but we wanted to reach out and extend our most sincere compliments on your work. It is—oh, a flood of adjectives, I’m skipping these. Etcetera, etcetera, sucking your dick, etcetera alright, here—and meticulous in construction. We can tell,” Yennefer said, dragging out the final sentence, “you made good use of your year of writing time to complete the work.” Jaskier and Geralt by this point were holding back true howls of laughter.

“And won’t you believe it, there’s more. Ahem; we have a number of suggestions and questions already, but encourage you to get your well-deserved rest as we prepare our feedback. We are grateful to work with you, and thank you again for your stunning entry. There’s a postscript,” Yennefer added. “As a quick and personal note, we cannot have helped but notice the nature of your penmanship; we mean no offence, but would encourage you to see a doctor of the eye to fit you with some spectacles.”

“My—my penman…? What’d—” and Yennefer, who had clearly been waiting for this moment, brought out a rather crumpled piece of parchment with an ink stain at the bottom—ah, yes, the original page 64— and showed it to him. His eyes were… gods, they were aching, but he was clear minded enough now to see that each line had become at least twice it’s normal size. The lines were far from straight, dipping and bending toward the edge of the paper, the letters changed directions at random points, and a fair amount of the words were smudged so completely they were hard to make out.”

Jaskier stared in horror.

“They. Is that. Is that what it looked like? Really?”

“It’s worse than most of the ones that made it in,” Geralt said, carefully.

“Most?!”

“You drew pictures on one of them,” Yennefer said.

“Oh my god. They…they must…”

“Adore it, clearly,” Yennefer said, setting aside the paper. “It wasn’t worth the strain, and you’ve definitely firmly embarrassed yourself, but they’re either embarrassing themselves by fawning praise on you,” she said, sliding onto the bed, “Or you’re actually just… very knowledgeable and talented, even when addled by sleep deprivation.”

There was a pause, Jaskier soaking this in; it hadn’t been worth it, exactly, but it wasn’t all bad. In fact, it was quite good, and Yennefer was complimenting him outright, so, very good.

“Or both,” Geralt added.

“Definitely both,” Yennefer agreed.

Jaskier groaned. “You can’t be mean to me. You’re in my house and I am extremely tired, which means that you, by law, must kiss me and tell me nice things about myself.”

Geralt laughed, light and free, and Yennefer slunk slower down into the bed. “You get no kisses,” she said, “You get sleep and rest.” She grabbed a pillow from under her head and plopped it delicately onto Jaskier’s face.

“Boo,” Jaskier said, muffled beneath the thing. He closed his eyes. Geralt muttered something, and Yennefer gave a snort of laughter, and then there was silence.

“Are you two kissing up there?!”

More silence.

“UGH,” he groaned, and sunk into his soft, sweet mattress. Oh, beautiful mattress. How he adored it, how he adored his two loves on top of it. He listened to their kissing, soft, and sweet, and knew he’d join them soon. But it was so warm down here. Even as one of them removed the pillow, he could only bring himself to open his eyes for a moment, to see them both leaning to kiss his face gently, before returning to each other. He took a long, deep breath, and listened to them swirl around him, until all he could feel was their love and the sweet caress of his pillow.

#Geraskefer #Jaskier Whump #Soft Geralt #Soft Yennefer #The Witcher #Witcher Fic #jaskier #geralt #yennfer of vengerberg #sleep deprivation #insomnia #hurt/comfort #Witcher Whump #Butterbard's Fics

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midnightmoonkiss · 4 years

Text

Evermore.

Idol!Izuku Midoriya X Reader

Summary: Strangers brought together by music, fueling each others dream. You truly were living the life.

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: Day 30 of the Izumonth Collab!

P.S. I have a very small grasp on what an idol truly is so ples kpop stans dont come for me ahhh,,,, i tried fdgbhhj

Just To Clarify:

Reader and Izu meet in a cafe years prior!

They built themselves from the ground up!

Lord help me i dunno what’s going on

Perm. Tag List:

@coupsieddori @desia2 @strwbrry-lia

The roaring of screaming fans, the inconsistent flashing of blinding lights, music making the ground shake and heart jump, stealing your breath away and intoxicating your being with every lyric sung from the bottom of their hearts.

To some, every concert could be classified as the same, the pattern repeating itself until it becomes nothing but a chore instead of a passion.

To some, music becomes something to pass time with, something to hug yourself with in the early hours of the morning after a night filled with tears and no sleep, eyes burning with exhaustion.

Every person has a different answer to the same question,

“What is music to you?”

A question asked to you one calm, summer night in a run-down cafe by a handsome stranger with green hair, eyes unforgettably curious and brimming with fascination, sparkling with moon dust as their silver beams shine down on him through that freshly polished window.

He stood there, an enigma to you and all those present in the place at the time.

It was unexpected, not something you would count on being asked by someone you didnt even know.

But yet, your heart had lurched forward, captivated by the determination and child-like curiosity resting on his soft, freckled face.

The words slipped from your lips parted by astonishment before you had the chance to think as if they were being dragged from the dream buried deep within yourself.

“My life..” you had whispered so quietly you had sworn he couldn’t hear you, but a smile lit up his face, the first of many you’d unknowingly see on him in your lifetime.

“So live it.” Such a cheery response had caught you off guard back then, making confusion swirl in your gut as to just what he meant, dreams resurfacing to hopeful fingertips.

Ever since then, a day in the back of your head but never one you forgot, you gave your dream your all once more, letting lyrics fly across the page as you scribbled them down in the heat of passion, inspired by random things and editing until the words flowed smoothly enough for him to sing.

And by God could he sing.

He had told you at the time he was nothing but a mere hopeful kid, fighting his way to the top with some friends, wanting to make a difference in the world with his own words and his own voice, but it was a true miracle that your minds intertwined similarly to the way your hands often did, finishing thoughts before the words even slipped out, conversations from addictingly familiar eye contact alone.

A match made in heaven as some had described it, two peas in a pod, yin and yang, Complimenting each other and yet being polar opposites, swimming harmoniously together in the vast sea of life.

One who shined brightest in a crowd, and the other who thrived on the sidelines.

But perhaps that’s just what made your bond stronger, for together, you were grey. Not suffocatingly bright, and not depressingly blue.

Just yourselves, the truest form of love there could be.

It didn’t take long for their group to be known, emerging from the dark waves like water crashing on a rock breaching the oceans stormy surface, a breath of fresh air as lyrics and ideology comforted thousands.

Evermore was their name, bred from the desire to inspire people, remind all who listen that there was more to life than what they can see alone.

Everyday you were blessed to have met that man when you did, lucky that he was willing to embrace your flaws and help you step over your self-doubt and thrive where you thrived best, smiling happily backstage as you watched the people you adore sing songs you helped create and continue to encourage all who listened.

It was your dream come true, to create music.

A dream you often feared you would one day wake from, blinking through tear-filled eyes at that old red booth sitting across from you at that cafe.

Those were the nights you would always awake in your lover’s arms, him fast asleep with drool running down the opened corner of his mouth, but yet somehow providing reassurance in that relaxed face of his, messy green curls hugging his cheeks in the sweetest way possible.

You’d always kiss his chin in those moments, letting yourself melt like ice on a hot, sunny day all over again.

Years had passed since your first encounter with him, years you would always treasure, for how could you not?

He was a ray of light in the darkest years of your life, and you never would have succeeded if it hadnt been for his firm, helping hand.

Together, you were whole.

Even now, as he’s on stage, singing his heart out in the way he always had with that same look of enthusiasm and boyish glee.

The stage boomed with each beat drop or thump of the drums, the screaming fans a mere buzz from the soundproofed backroom where you and a few others watched the performance from a flat-screen television.

Cameras never fully captured his true beauty, despite being in HD.

No, though they captured the glow of his soft skin under the shifting lights, they never could quite catch the aura of enthusiasm he gave off or the twinkle of hope in those deep green eyes you always found yourself getting hopelessly lost in. An endless forest, no, a jungle of harmonious greens. Dewy, doe-like eyes always providing comfort to all those who are able to peer into them.

Its almost as if that’s why people are entranced with him the moment they meet them beyond the screen concealing his soul.

Some could easily say he was open to the world, large arms ready to embrace its flaws wholly, but in truth, he already has. Accepting the world as it is and seeking change little by little in ways he prays could help aid in making a difference, but one human could only ever do so much. That’s the part that wasn’t easy for him to understand about all of this, about his life and others.

He can’t always help everyone, and even he has limits. But no one wants to accept the boundaries put in place by something you cannot comprehend.

It would anger him sometimes, and inspire a new song of heartbreak he would write alone in the back of the tour bus or his office at the home you shared, mindlessly chewing his pen out of frustration until the ink would splatter on his cheek.

He always tried so hard, and most people could see that.

They admired him, wanted to be like him, singing the very essence of his being out loud every chance he could.

He and his group members made music that provided the saying ‘it’ll be okay, one day. Until then, I’ll hold your hand,’ even despite it at times being aggressive and borderline rock instead of pop.

They all worked hard, and it paid off.

You were just lucky to be able to help in any way you could, simultaneously living your dream and aiding others in their own.

It truly was a blissful life you now experienced, all thanks to him, Izuku Midoriya, the man you swore held your heart oh-so gentle in the palms of his scarred hands.

Little do most know, but you held his heart just as gently.

“Looks like they’re finishing up.” Tenya Iida, their manager, pointed out whilst adjusting his glasses in that way he always did when the hours of music streaming through speakers was coming to a close.

He was right, they had just performed their last number for the night. You smiled automatically, knowing just what was to come next.

At the end of every concert, Izuku would always give a passionate speech composed entirely on the spot after observations he made throughout the show in the back of his mind. His fans knew this, and they all immediately quieted down to the point where you couldnt even hear them.

Most of the time he would say the same things at the shows because most crowds are the same- but sometimes something strange and completely unique would catch his perceptive eye, and he would always point it out with a cheery laugh as sweat poured down his face.

It would always cause a roar of screams and laughter before he and his friends signed off for the night, leaving blissful memories in those who watched the performance.

As they all bowed on the television, you were quick to hop up, waiting in front of the couch for them to file into the place.

And soon enough, he came in, sighing happily as he wiped at his face with a towel given to him before entering.

His eyes easily found your own in the suddenly crowded room, almost as if they were pulled together by magnetism, and just like it, your feet began to move on instinct.

Arms wrapping around his torso, your lips brushed over his own parted ones before molding together in a sweet, congratulatory kiss.

A tradition, if you will.

One that you had skipped once and ended up with a pouty Izuku all night.

But you typically remembered, seeing as you usually wanted a kiss as well.

He always smiled against you during these, one hand resting on your hip as the other cupped your jaw, the pad of his thumb brushing against your cheek.

Ignoring the chorus of disgusted ‘ew’s’, you repeatedly kissed his addicting mouth with a smile of your own.

Pulling away, you slowly opened your eyes just in time to see him swipe a tongue over his reddened lips.

“Cotton candy lip gloss?” he guessed the flavor you wore breathlessly, voice hoarse from exaggerated use as his eyes met yours once more, relaxed and filled with nothing but unyielding love for you and you alone.

“Mm~ not quite.” you teased, moving your arms up so they wrapped around his neck instead, not caring that he was sweaty and warm.

You knew he loved these games, though. He enjoyed figuring out things on his own, putting puzzle pieces together in that mind that of his ran at ninety miles per hour.

Leaning in, he pecked your lips once more, smacking his lips together as he tried to figure out the taste.

“Bubblegum?”

“Yep!” you giggled as his arms dropped to wrap around your own waist, his forehead coming down to rest on your readily awaiting shoulder.

His dampened green curls tickled at your cheeks, the delirious smell of honey from his shampoo and natural musky scent of sweat overtaking your senses for a mere moment as your fingers combed through his locks.

You were hooked on having him in your arms.

You wanted to stay like this forever, wrapped up in your own worlds as the love you held for each other sparkled around you like stardust.

It was just you and him, no one else.

You sighed contently, his own hum of approval immediately following as he pulled your body flushed against his own.

“This is highly unprofessional!”

You were slowly brought out of your world as the words reached your ears, not bothering to look behind you to see a fuming Iida.

Izuku, on the other hand, shot his head up, frantically waving his arms around as you clung to him like a sloth, “S-sorry!” He apologized, knowing full well this would happen again at the next concert, just as it always does.

Truly, you couldnt help it.

It was hard not to be wrapped up in his strong arms at all points of the day.

A loud sigh sounded behind you, the tapping of what could only be Iida’s pen on his clipboard whilst thinking.

“I’ll get everything wrapped up, you all look exhausted.”

“You could say that again.” Todoroki huffed, the thump of him scuffing his boots against the carpeted floor just barely reaching your ears.

“That crowd sure was enthusiastic, but matching it definitely drained me… ahh..” Uraraka murmured, the distinguishable sound of someone plopping onto a couch being heard with the squeak of leather.

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad, you guys!” Came Izuku’s signature enthusiastic reply, grip on you tightening as his own adrenaline began to pump in his veins again, “There were so many coordinated groups wearing the same thing! And, and those dances they kept doing! I’ve never seen an entire crowd successfully do the wave before! I mean, did you guys see that! They did it!! All for us no less.. I’m so happy~” Izukus cheek rubbed against your own as he sighed blissfully, no doubt amazed by the dedication of his fans.

“I guess that was.. kinda awesome.” Ochaco giggles tiredly.

“Well, I’ve set up four-star hotel rooms nearby for you all. Two to a room. You all may choose who you bunk with, of course, but try not to wreck the rooms.. Again.” He was more than likely glaring at Kaminari who was in the back of the room, considering he did have a little after party of sorts last time and ended up destroying a dresser.

Thank goodness for the shared rooms, though, you knew with complete certainty that the other bed in your room would go unused. It’s gotten to the point where it was impossible to sleep without Izuku’s arms wrapped around you, and you him, as he relented one night over a phone call. Hell, it was the entire reason you were even brought along on the world tour, which he tried to convince wasnt the only reason.

‘You’re apart of the team!’, ‘We can’t function without you!’, ‘You make better soba than they do.’

Supposedly there were more reasons, but for now, you just wanted to indulge in reason number one.

A chorus of thanks followed, and suddenly you were being dragged out of the room by a hyper Midoriya.

That adrenaline typically ran through his body for a short ten minutes after a show, so you had no doubts that he would be crashing soon, but it was adorable to see him so energetic like a little puppy.

You lived for this, to see him smile at his well-earned success.

The walk to the tour bus out back was frantic, rushed, and definitely panic-driven as all the members not only tried to blend in with the shadows but also avoid fans that could easily start a rampage, especially since the bodyguards were lagging a bit behind.

But it was the fault of the lively and desperate twenty-year-olds, and not their own.

It certainly did bring a hint of rebellious glee thrumming in your soul, making you nearly choke on a laugh.

After successfully avoiding the press and fans after getting off the bus at the hotel, you were quick to retrieve the key from the front desk to your two-bed hotel room four floors up, stepping into the elevator with relieved hums.

“Good show tonight, guys!” Izuku pumped his fist in the air, other hand holding your own as he gave his exhausted team members his signature, award-winning smile.

They returned the gesture with significantly less enthusiasm, but it still made the skin around his brilliant eyes crinkle with joy.

With a final ‘goodnight’, he swiftly opened the door for you both, shutting and double locking it- a slight paranoid habit he had, before glancing over at you with tired eyes.

It was always so strange to you how he could always feign energy until completely alone with you.

It was nice to see him let his guard down in a way he didnt typically do, even if they were all his best friends.

He trudged over to you, having sat yourself down on the bed, just to collapse beside you with a thwump, his legs giving out beneath him as he slumped down onto his knees.

“Tired?” you questioned playfully, petting at his head and untangling locks here and there.

He hummed in contentment, voice muffled by the bed as he spoke, “nah..”

He clearly was, but you could only roll your eyes half-heartedly.

“I need to bathe.. I stink..”

“You stink.” you agreed with a nod, despite not truly believing it, only for him to whine loudly.

“How about a bath, stinky boy? You seem too tired for a shower.” You feared he would collapse in a shower from standing for hours already, and no doubt his feet were killing him, even if he didn’t audibly say so, which he never really did.

Perhaps it was a downfall of sorts, how he never let the attention go on him for too long, or ever really talked about problems unless brought up and forced out.

He certainly was stubborn from a childhood of being forced to keep quiet, but luckily enough, you could always see through that mask he wore.

It was a blessing he trusted you enough to do so, and you could say with complete certainty that that thought only made your heart yearn for him even more.

“A bath sounds good..” he flopped his head on its side so he could stare up at you, “Do you think they have bubble bath?”

“If not, a regular one will do you just fine. Either way, you’ll get clean.”

“Just me? Oh no. You’re joining me!” he shot back, not giving you time to protest, not that you would have, as he pounced on your being, shoving you down to the bed as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“S-stop it~ that tickles!” you giggled, squirming beneath him as he purposefully began to blow on your ticklish neck, fingers even coming up to tickle at your sides. You couldnt help but squeal out as he tickled you relentlessly with a mischievous smile on his handsome face.

“I-Izuku!! S-stop! Gaha! Ahhhh! N-no nonon!” you could barely breathe you were laughing so much, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes as you fought to push his larger frame away.

Snorts began to tear through your nose, much to his own bemusement and your utter horror at the atrocious sounds, and yet he smiled so sincerely at you.

Having enough, and knowing you needed to get things done, you quickly put all your strength into your back and arms, successfully catching him off guard and flipping him over so that you straddled his waist and he stared up at you in shock.

A blush burned at his cheeks upon noticing your victorious smirk, his lips pressing into a thin line as he concealed the gasp he was sure to let out.

“Now now, baby, stop messing around. The stinky boy needs a bath.” and just like that, his head popped back onto the bed with a groan, cheeks still rosey.

“Alright, alright... I’ll run the bath.” He decided, already using his arms to try and push his upper body up, to which you quickly pushed him down again, hands against his chest.

“Ah, ah, ah~ I’m doing it. Rest here for a minute. I know your feet hurt, so let me, okay?” even if you could be tough and playful sometimes, or distant and cold, you always had a very warm, caring heart. And he definitely could see that in the way you interact with others and how you were so much more with him.

He treasured it in a way that could be hard to understand to some.

Was it so wrong to be completely and utterly in love?

It was hard not to be when at times it seemed like you were the only tame thing in his life these days.

He was sure he would struggle to find one, similar to his groupmates, had he not stumbled across you that one summer night.

You were certainly one to blend in, conveniently sitting under a light that didnt work, just to hide in the shadows with your dark hoodie as you lazily ate some greasy fries.

He was tempted to pass you, grab the food that he had ordered via phone call and get out and back to his training session, but there was something about you that made it feel as though he couldn’t leave without saying something. Almost as if his very being was being pulled towards you in a way he couldn’t understand.

And so, he walked past you again, glancing down at the notebook you had wide open and noticing the lyrics you had scribbled down, along with the messages beside them.

‘Thats stupid.’ ‘Oh what a failure you are,’ ‘What type of song even is this?’ and many more harsh words you had clearly written yourself, smudged with black ink and what could only be tears as you stared off out the window.

You were a songwriter, no doubt, and it seemed as if you were close to giving up on your dreams, if you hadn’t already.

Or perhaps he was making a huge mistake by guessing, but he couldn’t help but want to intervene, it was in his nature to be nosy, and he was forever grateful he did.

Because now, you’re by his side, stuck together like glue you made yourselves.

Time had passed so quickly as he laid there on the bed, letting his sore body relax as he listened to you fumble around and the water splashing into the tub.

To some, taking a bath in a hotel was a strange thing to do, but with a hotel as nice and clearly clean as this, there wasn’t too much to worry about. Besides, your own anxiety always made you wash the tub real quick yourself.

Which is why he wanted to run the bath, knowing full well you would do this. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing.

But alas, he was too tired to truly complain.

He just wanted to relax, get clean, and then snuggle with his beloved in a bed that was far too soft for him not to think about stealing if just for a moment.

Eventually, you emerged from the bathroom, only in a tank top and undies, and he couldn’t help but eye you up, too delicious not to. My, he was sure lucky.

“Bath’s ready! Fortunately, this place had some bubble bath. I think you’ll like the scent, Zuzuku.” Walking over to in front of his damn near lifeless body, you grabbed his hands, wheezing as you struggled to pull his muscular torso up.

His arms instantly wrapped around you again, face nuzzling itself on your chest, inhaling your sweet scent.

He was tempted to just pull you onto his lap and fall asleep, but alas..

“Up.” you sternly stated, gently pushing his head back just to lean down and peck his nose.

Pulling away, you walked back to the bathroom, stopping just at the door.

Fingers gripping the hem of your shirt, you swiftly pulled it up and over, looking back to the flushed boy with an amused grin, “Come join me.”

Seeing him promptly jump up, you giggled to yourself as you waited for him, arms crossed over your bare chest.

He jumped into the bathroom on one foot, trying to pull his pants off whilst fumbling around like a headless chicken.

“Well aren’t you desperate.”

“I just want to hold you in my arms as soon as possible,” he admitted, looking over at you with a pouty face so innocent you couldn��t help but squeal on the inside.

You watched as he shed himself of all his clothes, not feeling the least bit shy at his nude self, having seen it enough times for it to not be sexual in such a domestic setting.

He hummed approvingly as foot stepped into the tub, hands gripping the sides as he lowered himself into the relaxing, warm waters filled with iridescent bubbles.

Looking over at you, he outstretched his hand, waiting.

And so, shedding your underwear, you grabbed his hand, him helping you not slip and fall as you settled in between his legs, back to chest as your head leaned on his broad shoulder, exhaling.

Kissing your cheek, he whispered “Thank you,” appreciatively.

“Mhm~” you hummed, letting your eyes slip closed as you took in this moment.

Him, the smell of the delicious vanilla cake bubble bath, and the soft lofi-hop you had playing from your phone on the counter wrapping the room in a sweet melody.

He too took this moment to relax again, letting the warm water soothe his aching joints and muscles, hands rubbing up and down your arm, the suds in the bath making you both slippery. He always enjoyed feeling your skin whenever given the chance, it was such an intimate act he cherished, seeing how he was the only one who could do it.

Time was so easy to slip by whenever he was with you, soaking in the moment of feeling you against him.

It brought a sense of normality back to his life, despite it now being barely normal at all.

And so is the life of an idol as they call it, though he wasnt quite sure how that word sat in his stomach.

He always thought of it as a figure to worship, and not him by any means.

Apparently, it’s what they called Asian band members these days, or at least that’s what he presumed.

Even if he spent nights researching the word, he was still met with loopholes and gaps he couldnt fill in.

Such a confusing term.

Nonetheless, he didnt say he wasn’t one since he didn’t exactly have the best grasp on what it is.

Regardless, it felt nice to not have to keep a forced smile on his face, but instead a genuine and relaxed one.

He found that most days he could only relax fully around you.

You always had something about you that calmed his nerves and cured any storm built from stress raging in his head.

Who knew being an ‘idol’ could be so vexing?

Strict schedules, a fairly controlled life, tight budgets, always having to be on his feet, but he had to admit it, it wasn’t nearly as hard as he heard what most groups went through.

He was lucky his friend from high school was willing to invest in this group, and it truly did pay off, seeing as they were quite popular these days.

Though he technically was loaded with money, he never bothered to spend the majority of it on himself, always putting it back into the band or donating it to charities he believed in. The fraction he had left allowed him to buy just what he needed, and some gifts he buys throughout the year just to surprise you with on anniversaries or birthdays or holidays, much to your own dismay.

And though he may be this figure others look up to, you never thought of him in such a way, out of reach and someone to scream at with joy whenever you saw him. You saw him as an average joe, a regular human with emotions. It could have been because you met him before he became a sensation, but you never got blinded by his success like he had seen before on television.

There were so many things to love about you, but most of all, he adored how you grounded him.

Even now, as his arms hold you against him and water softens your skin, he feels at home in a way he didn’t feel very often before. Home was just.. always with you. He couldn’t have a home without you in it anymore.

“I love you..” he breathed out, lips pressing against the damp skin of your neck.

You turned to stare deeply into his intense eyes filled with nothing but love, nose brushing against his own, “I love you, too.”

And so, you finished up the relaxing bath, knowing if you stayed too long you’d both fall asleep and never wake until the morning with pruney skin. It wouldn’t be the first time.

You offered to wash him, and he offered to wash you, giving you both the excuse to run your hands over each other’s body in a sensual way without it being lewd. Besides, you adored feeling his muscles and warm skin, something seemingly common in modern-day bands, but he had always said it was for himself and not just to appeal to fans or any contracts.

It was never about that.

Just a personal goal to help love himself, though you always assured he would look handsome to you no matter what, you understood his need to do this for himself.

After rinsing off, you carefully stood from the tub, offering him a hand before drying the both of yourselves off just to use as an excuse to hug. Seeing as how you both had forgotten to get a change of clothes from the bus, rooky mistake, you were doomed to spend the night in hotel robes, which wasn’t too bad either. Waddling out the room, Izuku nose-dived headfirst into the sheets as you grabbed a glass of water.

Upon him deciding you were taking too long, despite it not even being a minute, he made grabby hands at you, pouting and whining for “(Y/N)’s famous cuddles” which only brought another blush to your face that never seemed to stop smiling when around this absolute angel of a man.

Sipping at the glass of cold water, you slowly made your way to the bed, just to tease him.

“Can’t you move faster.” Izuku groaned, tossing an arm dramatically over his eyes as if watching you move so slowly was killing him

A knife to his frail heart.

He is dead

R.I.P. famous singer and songwriter, Izuku Midoriya.

Killed because his girlfriend was being too slow.

A tragedy in four parts-

His breath was suddenly squeezed from his lungs as you flopped down on him like a fish, his arm flying off his face just to be met with your damp hair tickling his nose, causing the poor fellow to sneeze.

“Ewww! Izukuuuu!” you whined, pulling your head back to mess with your hair with a look of dissatisfaction etched on your features as he just breathily chuckles.

“Aww~ Don’t be mad at me, princess! That was your own fault, you know my nose is ticklish!” though his argument did outweigh your own, you refused to accept it with a humph as you turned your head, puffing your cheeks up and crossing your arms over your robe covered chest.

Surprisingly, the robes were quite comfortable, almost like sleepwear themselves despite being meant for something different than sleeping in. They were white and prone to stains, but they sure were fuzzy and warm.

You had no doubts they would be gone in the morning from the downfall of two humans who are both personal body heaters sleeping together.

Oh, if only you had brought your light sleepwear. Nothing wrong with waking up naked, is there?

“I’ve waited long enough, cuddle me!” Izuku’s arms were outstretched, waiting for you to collapse in his arms instead of sitting on top of his belly, far too far away!

Amused, you nodded, reaching over to the nightstand, switching off the light. The room would’ve fallen into complete darkness had the moon not been shining through a sliver of a crack in the curtains on the far side of the quiet room.

Settling down, you rested your body on top of his own, letting his arms wrap loosely around your waist as he nuzzled his cheek against your own once more. Such a cuddle bug.

It only took a minute before you decided this was uncomfortable and shifted so you were both facing eachother on your sides, your own body close to the curtains, and his close to the door.

He always liked to be closest to the door, so in case of a break-in, he could protect you.

It was endearing in the sweetest of ways, though it made you wonder what went on inside his head sometimes.

Though you prided yourself on being able to understand him completely, you accepted the fact that some things you will never know about him, and some things he will never know about you.

But then again, everyone is entitled to their own secrets, right?

“I’m so glad I met you..” he sighed out dreamily, voice growing husky as drowsiness seeped in. His warm fingers traced over your cheek as the lights of the moon reflected in his eyes, giving you just enough brightness that you could see his content smile.

“I’m really glad you decided to stalk me.”

“I- I didnt-!”

“Hahaha!” you cut him off with laughter, his own following suit.

His breath was suddenly fanning across your lips, and you felt his own soft pair brush against your own, lip-gloss free ones before fully connecting them.

Kissing him had to be one of the best parts about dating him because boy did he know how to make you swoon by his lips alone.

“Goodnight.” you pulled away, pecking his nose as he giggled.

“Goodnight.” he repeated, arms wound around your body and head tucked under his chin.

Oh how sweet life could be if you took a chance.

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hanniiesuckle17 · 4 years

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The Comment Section

A/n: as a technically plus size girl myself i really liked writing this! feel free to request again after I finish the rest of the ones I have now! (sry this is not thoroughly edited)

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: cussing, mentions of hate

Requested by: anonymous

Tag List: @distrikt9 @mini-meanhoe @poeticallyspaghetti @hanstagrams @yangomangos @hoes4hoseok @desertfordessert

Summary: Being on the larger side had never stopped you from anything before. You were confident in your curves and loved how you looked. It was one of the reasons that Han Jisung fell head over heels in love with you. Who would have thought a few silly little pictures would turn your world upside down.

Genre: fluff, little angst, romance

✯

Meeting Jisung was a complete accident. A complete accident that changed my life forever. I was a lost foreign exchange student desperate to find her way back to her dorm in the hot summer streets of Seoul. By pure chance, I had bumped into him on the street. I had no idea who he was at the time and he seemed to find that fascinating.

We ended up walking together until the sun set and the store signs lit up casting neon glows on our faces. Soon we both got lost wandering through the streets talking about everything and nothing in my broken korean and his adorable english.

Jisung bought me dinner and then we finally found my dorms. He left me with the promise to take me out and get lost again. And that was the start of our relationship. About our fifth date, Jisung told me about his job and who he was. He was utterly shocked that I didn’t freak out about his celebrity status. He always said that what I told him after was when he began falling in love with me.

“Whether you sing in front of thousands of people, pick up garbage on the side of the road, or teach pre-schoolers not to pick their noses, I would rather be with you than any other place or with any other person on the planet.”

Now a year and a half later, we were dating and living together in an apartment near the company. Jisung was quite upset that he had to keep our relationship a secret. The company after many attempts at breaking us up gave in and let him continue our relationship despite his dating ban, but only if he kept quiet about it and nothing got leaked to the press.

This meant we rarely got to go out unless both of us wore masks and hats and for five months out of the year, I was sitting at home waiting for Jisung to come back from tour trying to pretend like I didn’t have a boyfriend to begin with. But, it was all worth it. Jisung was worth it.

“Yes, dad. I promise I’m eating well.” I said looking at my father through a computer screen. My ears picked up on Jisung moving behind me to open the fridge and I knew what was about to happen next.

“Jisung!” My father called. Hearing his name he turned and leaned over me to look at my father. “Jisung, how are you?” My dad smiled and turned to focus on my boyfriend.

Jisung laughed seeing me drop my head in my hands. He leaned against the counter, a bright smile on his face. “I’m fine, Mr. L/n.”

“How many times have I told you? Just D/n is fine. Now, is she eating well? I know she has exams. You have to make sure my daughter is eating!” Jisung’s arm wrapped around my stomach, pulling me to his side.

“Of course! We are going out to eat soon actually.” He said cheerfully, pushing the hair away from my face.

I jumped at the opportunity Jisung secretly handed me. “Yes, Dad! So, we have to go! I love you, talk to you later, bye!” Jisung waved before I slammed my laptop closed, effectively hanging up on my father. “Can we really go out to eat?” I asked, wrapping my arms around his waist. He smiled taking my face in his hands, squishing my cheeks.

“Of course. I’m starving.” Placing a kiss on my forehead he exited the kitchen. While he was doing whatever he was doing, I ran to our bedroom and changed out of the pajamas I had worn all day.

Grabbing some shorts and one of Jisung’s shirts I started tying my shoes. How any of his clothes fit me at all was a mystery to me. Jisung was a twig compared to me. Granted he was a very muscular twig. But a twig none the less.

Jisung smiled seeing me in the baggy white fabric that covered my shorts entirely. He leaned against the doorway, dark hair falling in front of his doe eyes. He didn’t bother changing out of his gray sweatpants and tank top. “I never get tired of seeing you in my clothes.”

“I never get tired of wearing them.” He smirked, watching me get up from the bed and walk over to him. I let my hands travel up his chest as he looked down at me. “Are we taking the car or the subway?” I whispered, leaning up and kissing his lips. A cheeky smile slip onto his face as his hands grabbed onto my ass.

“I heard it’ll rain soon. Subway?” I nodded and kissed him again, fingers threading through his hair. “Ready to go, baby?” With another nod, we left our apartment, masks on and hats covering our faces. Instinctively, I pulled the white cap on Jisung’s head lower to cover his handsome features. He did the same with the black bucket hat (which was probably his) that I wore.

Just as Jisung said, a light sprinkled down on us as we walked to the nearest subway station. Unfortunately, the train was crowded, leaving no seats for me and Jisung. We got a few weird looks, most likely because of the excessive face covering.

We shared low whispers about where to eat and bickered about what stop to get off at. I turned out to right and dragged him off with train, just before the doors closed. Laughing, we ran through the rain to get to our favorite sushi place.

The woman who owned the restaurant greeted us happily when we entered, ushering us to a secluded back table. Jisung didn’t even look at the menu before ordering enough food to fill every inch of the table.

“How is the new album coming?” I said picking up a piece of fish. He nodded cheeks half full of food. I smiled seeing his little habit resurface itself.

“Good. I sent a song off to Chan this afternoon. He and I will work on composition tomorrow.” His long fingers maneuvered the chopsticks to place another roll onto my plate. I tried to put it back but he shook his head, adding another one as well. “How are your classes?”

“Stressful, but manageable. You know the girl next to me in my Maths class is a STAY. She has Seungmin’s photocard in her phone case.” Jisung smiled eating another piece of sushi. “Her phone rang in class the other day. Guess what her ringtone was?”

He hummed and looked up at me expectantly. “What?” He said covering his mouth, silver rings glinting in the low warm light.

“Close.” Jisung’s eyes lit up as he started laughing.

“I almost got in so much trouble when I released that song.” He said dipping a roll in soy sauce. “STAY almost figured out about us.”

“Well, you did all but put my name in the song,” I said with a laugh. Somehow we had managed to eat all the food on the table. “Did you really feel that way when we met?” I asked him, my elbow resting on the table.

A waitress came and cleared our table. Jisung stared at me, a soft look in his eyes. “Of course. You were the most gorgeous girl I had ever laid eyes on.”

“You are just saying that because you thought I had a great ass.”

“It is a great ass.” He said eyeing me up and down, a sly smirk on his face. “We should get going. It’s already raining cats and dogs.” Jisung paid for our meal and shoved his black hat back on my head with a smile, draping his arm over my shoulder as we walked out. He was correct. The rain was pelting down on the streets like bullets. “You ever been kissed in the rain?” He asked out of nowhere.

That mischievous smile glowed on Jisung’s face. “No, why?”

Without another word, Jisung pulled me out into the rain, soaking us both. His brown hair turned dark and stuck to his forehead as he pulled down my mask. My eyes glanced around the nearly empty street, before staring back into Jisung’s bright eyes. His long fingers lifted up my chin before resting on my cheek. The cool rain dropped around us, but I felt warm in his arms.

His lips dragged over mine, butterflies thundering in my stomach along with the rumble in the sky. My chest pressed against his, the wet fabric rubbing together. His teeth cheekily dragged over my bottom lip as I pulled away.

“Get out of the street!” Someone yelled honking their horn. Jisung and I turned to see a car’s headlights shining through the rain. We laughed and moved back under the awning. “Crazy kids!” The man yelled as he drove passed us.

I kissed Jisung again, tangling my fingers in his wet hair. “I love you,” Jisung whispered, pulling away. “All of you,” His hands ghosted over the curve of my hips. “Do you love all of me?”

“More than anything, Jisung.”

The cool rain sent a breeze under the cover. He pulled me closer to him kissing the top of my head. “Home?” He muttered looking around the wet street.

“Home.”

I pulled the dark fabric over his face, leaving nothing but his round lively eyes for me to see. His warm hand enveloped mine before we ran through the rain. Our feet splashed through puddles as each step brought us closer to the train that would carry us back to our little apartment.

✯

Bright light streamed through the bedroom window. An arm was wrapped tightly around my stomach. I smiled and shifted under the blanket so I could look at the handsome face of the man next to me. My eyes glanced at the clock before reaching over and stroking his hair.

“Jisung?”

He hummed, nestling into the pillow. I smiled feeling him reach for my hand and bring it to his lips. Drowsy kisses from his plump tired lips trailed over my skin. “You saying my name in the morning is so sexy.” My laugh filled the bedroom. His raspy voice never failed to send shivers down my spine.

“You think anything I say is sexy.” Jisung’s eyes slowly opened and his hands moved to rub his face, the muscles in his arms flexing ever so slightly. My fingers traced patterns over his bare chest, the skin radiating a welcoming warmth under my touch.

“No way. Prove it.” He said with a goofy smile.

Chuckling, I kissed his cheek. I thought about what to say. Leaning down, my breath fanned across his cheek. “I have to go shopping because we have no ramen left in the kitchen.” My words floated into his ear and I could see his cheeks redden at my tone.

Jisung groaned, pulling me fully on top of him. “Yeah, you were right. Anything you say is sexy.” He laid still for a moment, his hands rubbing up and down my back. “Do you need money for groceries?” He hummed. Shaking my head, I sat up, legs falling on either side of his waist. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Ji. You don’t have to pay for everything, you know.” He laid back with a smile on his face, hands behind his head. Jisung stared up at me keeping that sleepy bright grin on his face. “You should get up. You’ll be late before you know it.”

A sigh heaved from his chest as he watched me leave the bed. It was evident his eyes were trained on me as I sorted through our shared closet. “You’re right.” The rustling of sheets told me he was shuffling out of bed and most likely towards the bathroom to shower.

Soon I was walking Jisung to the cab he had called down in front of our building. The fabric of my leggings brushed together as I rushed forward pulling him back for one more kiss before he entered the taxi. “Don’t forget, we have a date with pizza and a drama tonight,” I whispered against his lips.

His long fingers gripped my waist, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. His warm touch slipped into the waistband leaving something paperlike between the tight fabric and my skin. “For the groceries.” Jisung pecked my lips before getting into the cab. “Love you!” He called, rolling down the window.

Waving back, I watched the car pull away from the curb and drive my boyfriend to his company. Curious, I reached for the money he slipped me. Had I worn a hoodie and not a crop top, he wouldn’t have been able to do so easily. It was a habit he had of spoiling me and paying for things despite my protests. “Good grief, Ji,” I muttered to the near empty street.

My feet carried me to a nearby supermarket. I walked the aisles tossing anything we needed into the cart I picked up at the entrance. My hands lingered on a bag of chips, debating whether I actually needed the study snack. Jisung never cared how much weight I put on or how much I lost. I was confident in how I looked, so I wanted chips. I would get chips. Smiling I tossed them in the basket before moving to the next aisle to pick up a few bottles of wine and soju. I never knew when Chan and Changbin would pop by for a ‘lyric session’ and need ‘inspiration’

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two girls whispering and looking my way. More than a year with Jisung had taught me to have an observant eye in public places whether he was with me or not. They stopped their talk when I turned to look at them. After placing the bottle in my cart I waved to them with a kind smile before going on my way.

Jisung returned later than usual. But, then again. There was no usual for when he came home. He passed out on the couch while I ordered us a pizza. While I waited, I lazily scrolled through twitter until something caught my eye.

“Rapper Han Jisung Spotted With Supposed Secret Girlfriend”

My eyes skimmed the article searching for any proof. My heart sunk finding what I sought. Several pictures of Jisung and me from the day before were shown below. Our faces were seen as clear as day despite the rain. We should have been more careful. I sighed, head in my hands. Curious, I scrolled to see what his fans were saying.

“I can’t believe this”

“So he really was seeing someone?”

“She’s so fat! She doesn’t deserve him”

“My friend and I saw her at the supermarket. She had like eight bottles of soju in her cart. Alcoholism puts on wait you know.”

“She’s a drunk and fat. I can’t believe she’s dating our Han.”

“She looks like a cow. Seriously I understand why he hid her from us.”

“Guys, stop. If he is happy then leave him alone.”

“He looks disgusted in those photos”

“Does she not care about herself? She’s dating one of the greatest rappers in the industry and she looks like a heavy slob.”

I tossed my phone onto the kitchen counter, not wanting to look a the comments anymore. My shoulders felt heavier than usual. Shower. A hot shower always made me feel better. Abandoning my device, which was blowing up with notifications, on the counter I marched to the bathroom and turned on the water letting steam fill the room.

The scalding water pelted against my bare skin as I stood under the showerhead. After my skin turned red, I stepped out of the shower, wiping steam away from the mirror.

My eyes raked over the body I once thought beautiful. How could my mind change so quickly? The curves I used to love now seemed ghastly and unflattering. The rolls on my stomach seemed more prominent as I looked over my bare body. My fingers traced over the waved marks on my thighs and pelvis, wondering how I never noticed them before today.

“Y/n, baby?” A knock sounded at the door but did not wait for an answer to open. Instinctively, my hands slammed it shut shocking the man on the other side. “Woah- Babe, what’s wrong? Are you okay? It’s nothing I haven’t seen many many many times before.” The smirk in his voice was evident, but I still felt exposed, despite the towel I moved to wrap around myself.

“Just go away. I’ll be out in a sec. There is beer and soju in the fridge. Go get one; the pizza will be here soon.”

I waited until I heard Jisung walk away before turning the knob and sneaking into our bedroom. My fingers grasped at the first baggy shirt I could find, but looking in the mirror it hugged in places that should not be hugged and made my body look lumpy and fat. Throwing on some leggings and one of Jisung’s fluffy jackets I decided this was enough coverage suitable to walk around in.

Jisung’s eyes widened when I entered the living room. “Wow. You planning an expedition to Antarctica?”

“I’m just cold, Jisung.” He watched with wary eyes as I pull the jacket further around my body. The doorbell rang turning both our heads. “I’ll get it.” Jisung nodded and picked up the remote, turning on the TV.

Opening the door I expected to see a pizza delivery man waiting for his tip, but instead, the hallway was empty. Before I closed the door, my gaze landed on something on the welcome mat.

A bouquet of wilted, dried, dead flowers. A ribbon darker than black was wrapped around the fragile stems. With shaking hands, I picked up the flowers. Petals and leaves fell to the ground. A note was tucked between the graying stems.

Fat Bitch.

Subconsciously, I pulled the jacket around my body, covering as much as possible. “Y/n? Everything okay? They didn’t forget my garlic knots, right? They forgot last time.” Jisung’s voice called out. My eyes still stared down at the bouquet in my hands. “Baby?”

I felt cold. It felt like I wasn’t in my own body; like my soul had left this world leaving me a shell standing with no will of its own.

“What the fuck is this?”

Shaking myself out of the trance, I looked to see Jisung standing beside me anger flooding every inch of him. Not waiting for an explanation he took the bouquet from my hands, more petals falling to the floor. The note seemed to make him even angrier.

“Fuck,”

I closed the door and watched him throw the flowers onto the counter, sending dead leaves flying across the kitchen floor. He turned to me, fury in his eyes. He seemed to be waiting for me to say something. “We both knew this was going to happen sooner or later.” His jaw dropped, not believing my words.

“You aren’t furious? You aren’t pissed off? Why are you not bothered by this?”

“Jisung, I can’t be bothered by something I already know is true!”

He stared at the flowers littering the counter. “You can’t possibly think that...can you?” Jisung sighed watching me shrug and fiddle with the sleeves of his jacket. “Y/n...this is not you. What happened to the girl who surprised me in my studio wearing nothing but a trench coat and lingerie just because I said I missed your smile?” My gaze fell to the floor, fixated on one of the leaves. “Where’s the girl who went skinny dipping with me on the night of our anniversary in Jeju?”

“I don’t know, Jisung!” He was shocked hearing me yell. “They are right! Okay! I am a fat cow with no reason to be dating you. I’m not sexy and skinny and I don’t have the body of a model. You know who does? The girl you should be dating! Maybe I just don’t like myself anymore!”

“The Y/n I know and love didn’t care how much she weighed.”

“Well...maybe I’m not your Y/n anymore.”

“That I don’t believe.” Jisung took my face in his hands, staring into my eyes. “I know about the photos. I know about the comments. They are all false, okay? None of them are true and you know it.” His thumbs brushed over my cheeks, voice full of desperation and sadness.

“Jisung, I’m not beautiful. I don’t feel beautiful anymore. I don’t see how you can love someone who can’t even see themselves as pretty.”

He sighed, leaning down and capturing my lips in a breathtaking kiss. I could feel all his emotions, everything he wanted to say as his lips moved against mine. Jisung pulled away, his eyes looking lovingly into my own. “I don’t love you because you are beautiful,” He whispered, pushing a strand of wet hair behind my ear. “You are beautiful because I love you. All of you.”

“Even the stretch marks?”

“The stretch marks. The curves. All of you.”

Sighing, I rested my head against his chest. “Why did I even think that?” Jisung let out a shaky breath stroking my still damp hair. “Shit, I was so stupid to believe those comments for even a second.”

“I can’t blame you. I’ve done the same.”

Pulling away, my hands cupped his cheeks before moving to wrap around his neck. “I love you,”

“I love you more.” Jisung kissed my forehead, dark hair falling in front of his eyes. A thought came to mind that made me giggle. “What?” He asked with a smile, leading me back over to the couch.

“How did you even remember that studio thing? That was like...in the first month we were dating!”

He laughed, pulling me into his chest and falling back onto the sofa. “Are you kidding? That may have been the single greatest day of my entire life.”

“You are just a pervert.” Again the doorbell rang, causing both of our heads to peek over the top of the couch cushions. “Can you get it?” Jisung nodded and got out from under me. A few moments later he came back with two pizzas and his beloved garlic knots. “They didn’t forget?”

“Nope!” He said happily flipping open the boxes. “Here.” He pulled one away and fed it to me, the fluffy breading melting in my mouth.

“You know what I think?”

“What?” He asked already somehow halfway through the box of garlic knots.

“I think I can eat this entire pizza faster than you.”

He closed the garlic knot box, a wry grin on his face. “Oh, you are so on, babe.” He planted his feet firmly on the floor and turned to his pizza box. “Ready? Three....two....-” Before he finished counting down I grabbed a slice and stuffed it in my mouth. “Y/n that’s cheating!” Between bites, I laughed as I watched him try and catch up from my early start.

“Come on, twig boy! Catch up.” He laughed and shoved another slice into his mouth filling his cheeks.

✯

Requests are Temporarily Closed! Sorrrrrryyyy

Masterlist

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proudlylost · 3 years

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My 6+1 favorite SPN fics: AU

After the SPN finale I kinda got sucked back into the fandom. The excessive amount of fanfiction reading ensued (I re-read all of my SPN fic favorites and then some) and I realised I have actually read quite a lot of them. So I thought I could share them, to highlight all the talented authors there is and also to gather all of my favorites into the one place. This post contain my favorite AU fics, the SPN universe edition of this fic rec can be found here.

Ninety One Whiskey by komodobits

“In the spring of 1944, the 104th Medical Battalion of the United States Army is disbanded, and its men reassigned to various infantry companies in preparation for their invasion of occupied France. For First Lieutenant Novak, this is less than helpful, as he has so far met his platoon’s designated medic a grand total of twice, and has both times found Sergeant Winchester to be the optimum combination of reckless, arrogant, and downright insufferable so as to make cohesive platoon function near impossible. When the time comes to move out, however, Castiel has to reconcile himself to the fact that men are going to go down and trust that Dean Winchester may well be the only person who can put them back together again. WW2 ETO infantry AU. “

READ! THIS! Well, there is some really disturbing war related and time period related stuff, but if you can stomach that, read it! Along with the Angel’s Wild, this is my favorite fanfiction. This fic is heart wrenching and so, so good.The characterization is on point. Historical accuracy is on point. Slow burn is on point. Everything is just perfect. However, as I said, this fic is heavy stuff. There is some serious angst (I cried. I almost never cry when reading) and trauma. But there is glimmers of hope, even if sometimes it feels hopeless. Expected recovery time: at least two weeks. Word Count: 401,183. Explicit

Angel’s wild by LimonadeGaby and riseofthefallenone

“But that’s the whole reason he’s here, isn’t it? He’s not out here hunting Humans. He’s not even hunting deer, or bears, or anything else that featured in Bambi. He’s out here, freezing his nuts off every night, because he’s hunting Angels.

Sometimes Dean wishes that Angels were like how they’re described in the Bible. How people from time too old for him to care much about thought Angels were messengers and warriors of God, protectors of Humans. He knows that how they’re really described in the Bible is actually pretty terrifying, but at least they were told by God that they’re supposed to love Humans, right?

That’s a thousand times better than what Angels really turned out to be.”

This was first longer fic that I read from Supernatural fandom and I fell in love. So this is “the fic that got me into the fandom” but I have read it multiple times since and it is still very, very good. I love everything about this fic. It is very original and the lore is amazing. I love how Dean and Cas are both quite young (in Cas’s case, relatively speaking) and how their love develops (slow burn! <3) I love how Cas is described and I love how he communicates (unintentionally) with flowers. You can also read this without having any knowledge of supernatural series (like I did) which is always impressive for a fic. Wor count: 389, 271. Explicit

For All You Young Hockey Players Out There, Pay Attention by thursdaysfallenangel

“Dean Winchester knows two things about hockey, two things his dad made sure he knew. One, hockey is a guy’s sport, and two, hockey is family. Hockey meant Sam and Bobby and Benny and Victor and Gabriel and hell, his entire team. So when Victor gets traded, Russian-star-turned-new-teammate Castiel Krushnic becomes a threat. As much as Dean hates him for that, the longer he sticks around, the more he begins to threaten that first rule too. Dean’s been taught his whole life that those who play hockey should not be captivated by deep accented voices and the way a guy handles his stick, so how the hell is he supposed to justify what he’s starting to think about Cas? All Dean wanted at the beginning of the season was to win, and now all he wants to do is figure out how he feels about Cas and how to deal with it without ruining his career and tearing his family apart. “

Ah, three of my absolute favourite things smashed into the same fic: sports, slow burn and enemies to lovers. This fic has lots of cameos from supernatural characters, because hockey teams require lots of players. So it is easy to spot your favorite character in this fic. This fic is probably one of may favorites, because of the sport environment (Outside the fandom, I have been super into sports. Like so much I have several national championships medals from my sport. Anyway, not a point here): also the sexual tension between Dean and Cas is so good, especially when they are pumped with the adrenaline. You don’t really need to understand sports to enjoy this fic, though. Word count: 143,592. Explicit

Formula Won by cardinalwrites

“Of all the places Castiel Novak thought he would take in his career, an internship as a Formula One Paddock Correspondent (or journalist, for short) was most definitely not one of them for a few reasons. One: He had no clue what the hell Formula One was. Two: He knew nothing about sports in general. And Three: He should not fall in love with the people he’s supposed to be asking hard-hitting questions to, least of all the head driver of one of the oldest and most well-renowned teams in the sport’s history.

This is a love story told around the world through the eyes of the person that knows the least about where he has found himself in. Come follow a 20-race season finding love in the lost, learning the truth, and figuring out what the hell Formula One is along the way.”

Another sports fic with a slow burn. This is probably not everyone’s cup of tea, because there is quite a lot information about formula one, and the reading experience is more enjoyable if already know about formulas/do your research. Don’t let it stop you though, because this fic is very good. The friendship between Dean and Cas is very natural, and later the romance as well. The plot is very engaging and the drama inside the formula one organization is so good. This fic is also not so “heavy” as the other ones in my list (of course, there are problems along the way, but even the fic’s tags say there will be fluff). The rating is T, which is kinda surprising, because I did not notice it until I already had read the whole fic. Word count: 123,777. Teen

Have Love, Will Travel by squeemonster

Castiel Novak is a reclusive writer with a childhood so tragic it's left him terrified to leave his home—until his overbearing brother, Gabriel, drags him out for a night on the town full of booze and strip clubs, and he encounters Dean Winchester, a mesmerizing and mysterious stripper with secrets of his own. Both men find themselves inexplicably drawn to each other, and soon Dean's private dances for Castiel become much more, as both men confess their troubles and find solace in each other's company. But neither can seem to find the courage to take their relationship further than the intimacy of the club's VIP Room—and just when Dean's own brother gives him the excuse he needs to finally admit his feelings, Dean discovers something that brings it all crumbling down. Will they find a way past their demons and their trust issues, and back to each other?

This is one of the fandom classics and quite rightfully so. Both Dean and Cas have issues, in other words: what’s new? The sexual chemistry between them was so good and well written, but there is also angst and mental health issues (mostly Cas). Sam is quite young in this fic, but manages to be very much a little brother. I honestly loved this fic when I was a bit younger, but I think it is still very good and deserves its place in this list. Word count 94,054. Explicit

Pick It All Up by thepinupchemist

Army veteran Castiel Novak is a wreck after his tour in Afghanistan, brought home to his brother's apartment in Lawrence, Kansas with scars both mental and physical. He copes poorly, and during one night of bad decision making, meets somebody just as much of a disaster as he is -- a prostitute named Dean Winchester. And suddenly, two damaged men might not be as irreparable as they believed.

Ah, it seems that I’m incapable of picking nice, fluffy, happy fanfics. This certainly is not one of them. There is full warnings in the tags, because there is some triggering stuff: PTSD, mentions of past abuse, alcoholism etc. But, this is also very healing story in its own way (It has happy ending. I guess I can spoil that because it reads in the tags) . I avoided this fic for a long time, because the prostitute!Dean tag scared me away, but this was so worth of reading (as I said, happy ending)! Gabriel is super supportive and sweet brother and Dean and Cas are dysfunctional but they work so well despite all the trauma they have endured. Word count: 126,611. Explicit

Bonus: Twist and Shout by gabriel and standbyme

What begins as a transforming love between Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak in the summer of 1965 quickly derails into something far more tumultuous when Dean is drafted in the Vietnam War. Though the two both voice their relationship is one where saying goodbye is never a real truth, their story becomes fraught with the tragedy of circumstance. In an era where homosexuality was especially vulnerable, Twist and Shout is the story of the love transcending time, returning over and over in its many forms, as faithful as the sea.

Well, I don’t think this fic needs any introductions. This is the fic, the most popular in SPN fandom and one of the most popular ones in the whole ao3. I thought that I could read this, because I don’t generally have many triggers, despite all the warnings. I was a wreck during reading. And I have managed to read it once and I can’t make myself read it again. But it is good and amazingly written. This fic plucks every emotion out of you and does anything it pleases with them. You have been warned. Word count: 97,556. Explicit

(When I wrote this fic rec I also realised I have a serious problem with long fics. Like, most of my favorites are at least 100,000 words. At this point I think I don’t even consider a fic to be slow burn, unless it takes several days to complete the fic. Oops)

#supernatural fic rec #destiel fic rec #supernatural fanfiction #destiel fanfiction #destiel slow burn #supernatural #destiel

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

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❛ FALLIN' ALL IN YOU ❜

Songfic with ‘Fallin' all in you’ by Shawn Mendes.

with Jackson ‘Jax’ Teller.

Request: Hellooo love!! How are You?? Hope You good💕 could I request a jax teller x reader? Jax propose to the reader and then they have a wedding and some smutt!! Thank you honeeeyyy💕💕💕 love your work!! Just keep going💗 You are amazing🥰

BY ANON

The marriage proposal.

Warnings: none, fluff af.

Word count: about 1.7k

Aurora says: I didn't write the smut part because I thought that didn't fit in. this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to the author.

Masterlist.

Sunrise with you on my chest. No blinds in the place where I live, daybreak, open your eyes. This was only ever meant to be for one night. Still, we're changing our minds here. Be yours, be my dear.

Today is the day. Today is the day when you're going to marry your best friend, your partner in crime, the love of your life, the best man you could ever know. And even if it's supposed that the night before you shouldn't sleep together, you don't believe in superstition. You two wanted to wake up as a couple to go to sleep as a married couple. Your nose caresses his, purring as he closes his arms tightly around your body. One of your hands tour his neck slowly, with the tip of your fingers running over his skin and flooding on his lips, gently and sleepy kissing them. One second after, his mouth meets yours with a soft move before opening his eyes.

“You on time to run away”. He whispers with a hoarse and deep tone of voice.

“You too”. You chuckle sinking your face under his chin.

“I love you, darling”.

“I love you more, Jackie boy”.

So close with you on my lips, touch noses, feeling your breath. Push your heart and pull away. Be my summer in a winter day love. I can't see one thing wrong between the both of us. Be mine, anytime.

When the door rings, you're ready to start with the preparatives at the clubhouse, where your wedding dress waits for you. But before you can go with your girls, Jax grabs your wrist to pull you into him with that dearly smile on his lips that shakes your legs.

“Goodbye, miss (Y/L/N). I will see you again calling yourself ‘Teller’”. He says very proud, peeking your lips with short kisses.

“That sounds amazing”. You mutter against his lips, surrounding his neck with both arms tangled on.

“I can't wait to be married”. Putting away a soft tuft of your hair, he leans forward to kiss your forehead with all the love he carries on his chest.

“Then, hurry. I'm the one who has to be late, remember?”

Fast forward a couple years, grown up in the place that we live. Make love, then we fight, and laugh 'cause it was only meant to be for one night, baby. I guess we can't control what's just not up to us.

You're sitting on a stool in Jax dorms, while Laila does your hair. A beautiful braid decorated with white flowers on it. Watching the long white silk dress hanging from the top of the bathroom door, you can't help but think about the day you met. It was like fifteen years ago, in the kinder garden. Actually, it was really cute because there were some children trying to take off from you a teddy bear, because apparently you were too old to play with him. And Jax appeared from nowhere, followed by Opie. You still laugh because of the looks on their faces.

“That's ready, honey. Do you wanna see it?” Layla asks you while you stand up, straight to hug her.

“It isn't necessary. I would trust you my life”. You just say, before being interrupted by Gemma.

“Look at you…” She said almost in tears, opening and closing the door as fast as she can, to hold you into her arms. “You're going to be the most beautiful Old Lady ever…”

“Do you think that… Jax would like it?”

“Of course he will, sweetheart”.

Every time I see you, baby, I get lost. If I'm dreaming, baby, please don't wake me up. Every night I'm with you, I fall more in love. Now I'm laying by your side and everything feels right since you came along.

The front yard of Teller-Morrow is completely changed. The main door is closed and covered, so you will have the intimacy you deserve. Maybe it isn't the most romantic place on earth, but it's the one where you grow up with Jax and your families. There's a big flowers arch as an altar, and the alley to it it's in the middle of the guests. You will have to walk over a red carpet as if you were a star, because Tig said so.

When the door of the clubhouse gets opened and your bridesmaids step out from it, the soft music floods the crowded yard. The girls positioned themselves at the right of Jackson, waiting impatiently on the altar with Opie putting well on his tie and the flower on the lapel. But as soon as your future husband watches you walk towards him, grabbed to your father's arm, he breaks into tears. You can hear some chuckles, some kindly whispers, and Jax laughing between a soft cry, so proud of what he is seeing.

Oh, you know I've been alone for quite a while. Haven't I? I thought I knew it all, found love, but I was wrong more times than enough. But since you came along…

“When I met you, fifteen years ago… I promised you that I would protect you with my life”. He has to do a brief pause, freeing your hands to clear his tears with the back of them. “You made me a better man. You took care of me, loved me unconditionally, without asking anything back. You have been my best friend since ever, my counselor, my anchor to keep floating, and I can't wait to continue my life with you, (Y/N). I can't wait to have a family with you. To come back home everyday and fall asleep with you between my arms. I will never love anyone like I love you. And I want to show it to you every single second for the rest of my life, 'cause I'm the luckiest man on earth. You're kind, attentive, motivating, honest, careful, loyal. You are perfect for me, and I couldn't imagine a day without you”.

Leaning forward, Jackson kisses your cheek, taking the advantage to clean his tears with your fingers. You know everything that he thinks about you, but these words just make it real. For a second, you thought you were dreaming. That the wedding was a dream and that you would wake up before kissing him again. But there you are, stunning and making your future husband running out of air with a charming smile.

“I couldn't ask for a better way to spend my life, than doing it by your side, Jackson. You are the most intelligent and courageous man I have ever met. Your sense of… keeping close your family, your brothers, your friends… That's what makes the difference. You put their welfare before your own, and that makes you a good man. If your father would be here, he would be proud of who you are and of who you are becoming”. John always loved you like his own daughter, and he used to say that Jax and you would end up married. But you two always used to laugh about the idea, until three years ago when you got badly drunk. And a one-night-stand and an apparently big mistake, made real his prophecy. “Your father told me once that we were made for each other, destined to meet us, destined to protect each other, destined to respect each other. Destined to love each other. Your father was the wisest man I have ever met, even if I thought that he was wrong. And I can't wait to start calling you ‘my husband, ‘my family’ for the rest of my life”.

I'm thinking, baby, you are bringing out a different kind of me. There's no safety net that's underneath, I'm free fallin' all in. You fell for men who weren't how they appear. Trapped up on a tightrope now we're here, we're free, fallin' all in you.

It's supposed that you should put the golden ring in each other's finger, but Chibs is crying so deep that he can't even say a single word, making the guests laugh when Bobby pushes him out of the altar.

“Fucking scottish… Or you're drunk, or you're crying”. He mumbles rolling his eyes, before grabbing the wedding rings from Opie's hands.

“I saw him once crying and drinking”. Jackson chuckles, infecting your families there.

“Here we go, brother”. Opie narrows his shoulders, before placing himself with the groomsmen behind him.

“I, Jackson Nathaniel Teller, take you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part”. Putting in your shaky finger the ring, with his oceanic eyes on yours, you're trying to contain the tears you have been hiding since you woke up on your shared bed.

“I, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), take you, Jackson Nathaniel Teller, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part”. You can't help but laugh softly when you notice that he's more nervous than you, holding his hand to put in the wedding ring.

“Aye, ye can kiss yer wife, kid”. Kicking out Bobby's ass, Chibs appears again cleaning his tears. “I haven' been five month practicing ti not say these words”.

Fallin' all in you.

You can assure that his lips are softer than never, with your fingers tangled with his, kissing him under the cheerings of everyone around you two. Jax can't help but hug you. Tightly, dearly.

“I will always love you”. He mutters with a broken voice, intertwining your fingers in his scalp to push him closer.

“Not even death will set us part, Jax”.

✨ Tag list:

@starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @angelxshiba @destynelseclipsa @sheeshgivemeabreak @abbiesthings @knowles-morgan @lady-pswrld @minnicelli @marquelapage @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @jadesamhart @mycupoffanfiction @claytoncardenasbabymama @thesandbeneathmytoes @phoenixhalliwell @thewarriorprincessxo @sugary-x-sweet @multiyfandomgirl40 @imanerdychubbyqueen @iambabyharry @firebenderwolf @ottosuricato @agirllovespasta

If you want to be tagged, send me a message!

#sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy #jackson teller #jackson jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #jax teller x reader #jax teller

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maybankiara · 4 years

Text

PHONE SWAP (DREW STARKEY)

04: CHOCOLATE

summary: Addie Mallory is just your average economics student when she meets Drew Starkey at her local Target in Atlanta. This is where the story is supposed to end – a short meeting and a picture to go – except Drew accidentally leaves with the wrong phone, and the story begins, instead.

w/c: 1.8k

a/n: real life, my dudes, it’s real life. (well, after a lil texting sequence.) writing drew is actually hard, believe it or not, and i edited this chapter right after finishing chapter 14 -- and the difference is huge. i’m really excited! as always, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, and tell me what you thought!

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drewstarkey | 10:53am Hey! I’ll be running a little late, so meet you at quarter past noon?

addisonmallory | 11:07am That's okay, I would’ve been late, too lol

drewstarkey | 11:08am Okay cool so it’s not just me hahah

addisonmallory | 11:09am Nope, I’ve got a reputation ngl

drewstarkey | 11:11am Let’s see who’s the worse one, then 😂

addisonmallory | 11:14am It’s on 😎

◇

It takes all in Addie to keep Marianne from tagging along. If the French-Brit is anything, it’s stubborn and persistent, which Addie claims to be the worst two stereotypical traits she could’ve picked up from the two cultures – and they both know she’s right.

‘I won’t bother you,’ says Marianne, looking at Addie through her rose-tinted sunglasses. ‘I’ll just be behind you. You won’t even know I’m there!’

Addie sighs and leans sideways against the doorway. Marianne’s foot is blocking the door from closing, and this is all dragging out way beyond rational.

‘Marianne, I’m going there for literally five minutes. It’s not a big deal.’

‘He’s a famous actor.'

‘He’s not even that famous. I met him in a fucking Tesco, Marianne!’

The look she receives for that statement is scorching – but the edge in the girl’s eyebrow relaxes, and Marianne gives way to one of her quiet sighs. ‘Fine. Whatever. Go have fun.’

‘Thanks,’ says Addie; a weak attempt to keep the bitter tone at bay.

The door shuts with a bang – she waits until she hears faint footsteps disappearing into the heart of the apartment. It’s not that she doesn’t trust Marianne, but the girl usually lives in her own world and tends to disregard the common notions of what would be okay in a situation like this. Addie doesn't hold it against her. She can’t hold who Marianne is against herself.

With this now over and done with, Addie walks down two flights of stairs and exits the building. It’s a sunny day, just like it was yesterday, and she takes some pride in the fact that she’s got her contacts in, and sunglasses, and a face that doesn’t look like somebody tortured her for a week. There’s a spring to her step even if she tries to control it, and really, Addie just feels great.

Although, she still can’t believe she’s about to meet up with Drew Starkey to exchange phones because he got startled and gave her the wrong one.

She doesn’t even have the damn photo they took together.

The thought makes her laugh, and relax a little, and somehow it clicks in her head that Drew really is just a regular guy, susceptible to ridiculous shitty things happening to him just like everyone else. It calms her on her walk down to Tesco, even when it’s a few minutes after they’ve agreed on meeting up and he's still not here.

Expected, really. He did say he’d be late, after all.

When he finally walks out of the car, she doesn’t realise it’s him, at first. The car he’s driving is a silver Toyota, looking a little older than she'd expect. He parks it a couple dozen feet away from her, and the only reason she even takes note of the car is because it’s similar to the one her high school friends used to drive when they were all still back in town. Her eyes land on the dark-haired figure inside the car and recognises him only when the Atlanta sun shines its light on him, making the brown strands appear almost blonde, blonde structure framed by the sun’s gentleness.

Something in Addie flutters. It’s not butterflies, but the feeling of excitement at the prospect of an adventure, or something entirely surreal yet about to happen.

Drew’s face breaks into a smile as warm as summer itself at the sight of her. She gives a little wave, clutching his phone in her hands. It takes him a couple of seconds to cross the distance between them, and he joins her under the shade.

‘Hi,’ he says.

‘Hi.’ Addie grins back, the sheer lack of knowing what to do bringing heat to her cheeks. ‘Nice car you got there. My friend had the same one.’

He glances at the car with pride in his eyes, nodding. ‘Yeah, she’s a badass. Stuck with me through thick and thin.’

‘You got the AC?’

‘Yeah, I had it installed a few years back, when I moved here. Your friend didn’t?’

‘Nope.’ Addie shakes her head, sighing at the mere thought of the days she spent roasting in that car during midsummer roadtrips. ‘Some AC would be good right now. I walked here and honestly, I pretty much melted off. Even wearing this.’

The girl grabs a handful of the dress below her waist, the lower part of the lightest fabric she could find in her closet. It’s an ordinary summer dress meant for beaches and walks under the Mediterranean sun, light blue with flowers scattered all over it, and reaching just to her knees when still. The day is windy, so the fabric sways on the wind, pulling itself a little higher, instead.

Drew chuckles at her comment and makes one about misjudging the temperature and choosing to wear long jeans instead of shorts, and stops himself mid sentence. ‘Ah, fuck.’

Addie recognises the sigh and the eyeroll, and figures something’s up even before he runs his fingers through his hair, saying, 'I forgot something. I'll be right back.'

Before she manages to mutter ‘Okay’, he’s making a beeline for his car. She watches him take something out of the glove compartment and he’s back within seconds, holding one of the biggest Hershey’s chocolate bars Addie has ever seen, and her phone is on top of it. She lets out a small chuckle, feeling her eyebrows come closer.

Drew holds the two in front of her, scratching the back of his neck with the other hand. ‘This is a little something for the inconvenience. And – and as congratulations, you know, for getting the internship.’

‘Oh my god, you didn’t need to buy me a chocolate,’ Addie says, voice high pitched in a combination of laughter and disbelief.

‘No, I did. Just – just take it, okay?’

‘Okay, thanks.’

Addie’s fingers wrap around the chocolate and she slips her phone into her pocket, handing him his. It feels odd—this whole interaction does—and she has the stupidly childish need to stare at her feet, but she makes herself look up at him, and he does the same once he glances briefly at his phone, putting it into the back pocket of his jeans. He’s squinting a little, and she can’t tell if it’s because of the sun and the fact that he’s not wearing sunglasses, or because that way it's easier to mask the awkwardness she knows he’s also feeling.

She offers him a smile, earnest as he can, and sees his shoulders drop a little.

The smile he gives in return is so genuinely apologetic that Addie finds it sweet – contagious, too.

‘Look, I really am sorry about this whole thing. I know I keep apologising, but I mean it. The chocolate was the least I could’ve done.’

‘And it’s more than enough,’ she reassures him. ‘Honestly. You’re all good. It’s not like you tried to steal my phone.’ She squints at him, jokingly, and crosses her arms on her chest. ‘Unless...?’

It makes him laugh, wide and bright, and his hair moves gently as his head shakes. ‘Fuck no. I’m not skilled enough for that.’

‘Yeah, you’re driving an old Toyota that does’'t even come with an AC. Not good enough for a thief.’

Drew’s laughter persists, and Addie lets herself relax a little. She leans against the tree with the side of her body, a little tired of being on her feet for so long, one of her hands stuck in her pocket and the other holding onto the chocolate that's getting softer between her fingers and her palm.

The man in front of her glances around with an edge to it, just like he did back inside the supermarket.

‘I should get going,’ he says. ‘It’s an interview week, so…’

Addie smiles. ‘Yeah, it’s cool. Thanks for bringing my phone back.’

‘Once again, I’m really—’

‘Okay. It was nice seeing you again. I can’t hear you apologise one more time so I’m going to leave.’

She considers turning on her heel and pretending to walk away, but she only takes a single step back and gives him a cheeky grin, instead. Drew is staring at her, squinting a little, probably because she’s all in the sun now and her dress is more than a little reflective.

He raises two fingers, gives her a little salute. ‘Bye, then.’

Addie repeats the word, mimicking his gesture.

Drew grins at that and it’s the last she sees of his face, as he turns toward his car and walks away. He waves at her driving out of the parking lot, while Addie fumbles with her headphones and her phone, and she waves back.

The moment he’s out of sight, she walks back under the tree, completely leaning her back against it. The breeze is enjoyable now, something between comfortable and warm, and Addie feels her heart thumping in her chest. Her eyes flutter and a shaky breath leaves her lungs, lips curling into a smile. Her hands may not be sweaty, but she feels sweaty all around, and knows she should be getting home as fast as possible because of the chocolate she’s holding, but she just... she can’t.

It’s not like Addie Mallory to get her head spinning at the sight of a boy – far from it. In fact, she likes to think of herself as an experienced person with a level-headed, realistic perspective on life and everything that constitutes. She’s put her career and future first for years now, and this is the first time she feels like she’s taking baby steps when talking to someone new, instead of striding.

Except, be as it is, Drew Starkey isn’t just someone new. Even if Addie is used to meeting people of far more importance than her, it’s usually in her line of business, and it’s usually people she knows what to expect from. This is someone who she feels like she knows what to expect from except he breaks all those expectations with ease.

It’s far from being the same, so Addie allows herself to be okay with her heart racing, palms sweating, and just getting overall excited like a schoolgirl. This doesn’t make her any less mature or her priorities any less set in stone.

As Addie goes into her text messages, rereads the one from Harry Martin, she realises that her life definitely took a 180 the day before. She texts him back, letting him know she’s available whenever and apologising for the late reply. Her phone rests against her chest, warm and familiar.

She’s glad to have it back.

But, even if she’s having a hard time admitting it, she’s not glad that her story with Drew is over.

◇

05: TOMFOOLERY

tagging. @jjmaybanksbaby @taiter-tots @sacredto @snkkat @drewswannabegirl @yeslifeofateen @rudypnkw @stfukie @x-lulu @sacredto @drewstarkey @butgilinsky @solllaris @hyperactive2411 @chasefreakinstokes @surferkie @jroseron @k-k0129

#drew starkey #outer banks #obx #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x oc #outer banks fanfiction #phone swap series

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marmolady · 3 years

Text

Livita: Part One

Remember this fic? I went to do a few edits on my old fic, ‘Livita’, and the whole thing ended up stretching to double the length of the original! It’s now been split into thirds, chronicling Taylor and Estela’s journey to motherhood.

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Estela x MC/Taylor (f)

Summary: Post-ending. Freed from Vaanu, Taylor has been building a life with her soulmate… but their family remains not quite complete. Read PART TWO.

Warnings: Coarse language.

Word Count: 4262

Reviews and reblogs are hugely appreciated!

Tagging: @sceptilemasterr @saivilo @greengroove @edgydepressedchoicesthot

La Huerta, June 2021

Estela and Taylor had found their home. La Huerta had been their shelter, as it had been for Diego, and for Aleister and Grace, in a time when the wider world had been in turmoil. Some years ago, during the twelve Catalysts’ year of isolation at the end of the world, a small village had been built in the shadow of the great tree of Elyys’tel, and it was here that remained home for the small group. On La Huerta, Taylor and Estela had found their place in this world, together-- and it was there that they planned for their family’s next steps.

Taylor had invited Diego and Varyyn to join herself and Estela in the hot pools at the base of La Huerta’s snow-covered mountainous region. There were few places she knew more tranquil, more calming. She’d need that. What she and Estela were proposing was… monumental. There would be no resting until they bit the bullet and put it out there so… they would just have to take that leap.

That they’d grow their family together had always been a given, at least once it became certain that Taylor could remain with her loved ones on earth. They’d found their peace, and each had their home was in the arms of the other. The next step was the baby. Estela would carry the child; passing on a little piece of the mother who’d been so cruelly taken from her. Of course, it meant that the other grandparent would carry on through the bloodline as well… but having wrestled with it, Estela concluded that honouring Olivia Montoya was more important to her than eliminating Rourke. It was deemed the safer option; whatever Taylor was, she was not entirely human, and her reproductive capabilities and genetic contribution would be rather more of a gamble. If it came to it, they could try that path-- certainly Taylor liked the idea of being related to another person by blood-- but the simple truth was that Estela’s urge for that physical bond was far stronger.

Diego, they hoped, would be the donor-- and someday a doting tio. In Taylor’s eyes, he was ‘her side of the family’, a part of her being that she loved beyond measure. The thought of creating a person out of Diego and Estela, was just about the most beautiful thing Taylor could imagine. In every way, her family. She’d tried to remain detached and unemotional about the idea; there was no assuming that Diego would feel comfortable in being the donor in the first place-- family was a complicated thing for him, at she respected the hell out of that. But god, it was hard not to let her hopes rise.

The outing had been intended to be relaxed, but even as she soaked in the hot springs, Taylor couldn’t help but seek reassurance to soothe her near-constant attacks of nerves-- just a glance and Estela would give her a look, stoic and sure, and it was enough to get her through another few minutes of what was supposed to be easy; just hanging out with her best friend. Diego, of course, quickly became concerned. No fool, he could see something bubbling beneath the surface, clear as day.

“All right. Spill. Something’s driving you crazy right now.”

Taylor flushed-- though she was red enough from the steaming water that it made little difference to her complexion. “I’m fine. We just… want to talk to you about something. I figured if we just sat you down, all serious, you’d jump straight to ‘dear god, who’s died?’”

“Or… ‘dear god, is Estela an alien too?’”

Both girls laughed.

“I’m sure people have wondered that,” Estela said dryly.

Taylor took Diego’s hands, which helped to steady her own from shaking. Jesus, she just loved him so much. If this wasn’t what he wanted… of course, she’d respect that, but she was certain a little part of her heart would break.

“Tay, you’re sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. Get right into it, or you’ll just make yourself more nervous. “Well, you know that Estela and I have been thinking about having a baby together; we’ve been talking about it a lot, and we’re ready. We’re ready to grow our family… make it a little bigger. And… I really, really hoped… I…we wondered if you might like to be the donor for our baby.”

For a few moments, Diego was stunned into silence; his eyes widened as he swallowed what he’d just been told.

“You… want me to…?”

“You should both talk about it,” Estela said. “We know it’s pretty huge. I dunno… maybe you’d be like the baby’s extra special tio. Whatever you wanted the relationship to be.”

Diego hadn’t heard a whole lot of what he’d just been told. He was already falling weeping into Taylor’s arms. There was no question; no question at all. His mind flashed with an imagined future, of something closer to parenthood than he’d dare let his heart long for.

Taylor held him, blinking back tears-- a pointless endeavour. “I love you so much. It’s hard to imagine doing this without you being a big part of it. Whatever you choose, you’re gonna be our baby’s tio. But it would mean the world to me if….”

“This is the greatest honour,” Varyyn said softly, his own eyes misty.

Estela offered him a warm smile. “It means a lot to us both. Obviously, you’ll need to talk this all through-- we’re not expecting an answer right away. This is… a lot.”

“What sort of, uh, time-frame are we looking at?” Diego asked as he sat back next to Varyyn, who wiped away his tears.

“Soon,” Estela said resolutely. She glanced to Taylor, feeling the emotion just radiating off her. This meant the world to Taylor, as Diego did. “We’re both ready for this, it’s just-- if you want to do this-- how soon you’re comfortable. We know this might not happen quickly, so the sooner we can get things started…”

“...The sooner you can get through the rollercoaster of ‘trying’?”

“Yes.”

For a little while, Diego was quiet… stunned, he needed a few moments for his thoughts to catch up with his emotions. Having children was something he and Varyyn had discussed at great length, and the conclusion they’d always begrudgingly come to was that for the foreseeable future, their lives simply couldn’t accommodate that-- not in a way that would be fair to a child. Diego knew that he belonged on La Huerta, but that wasn’t the whole of his life; where his two worlds collided was a mess. There was still that lingering dream, but he knew better than to hang too tight to it. But… in Taylor in Estela’s child, he could have something beautiful; different but beautiful. Wasn’t that just the way his story was meant to be by now?

“Do you have, like, a plan worked out? I guess it’s pretty tough to travel for procedures right now….”

Taylor grinned. “Don’t I always have a plan?”

“Ha. You know I’d never doubt you.”

“Yeah, we want to stay on La Huerta if we can. Otherwise, we’d be able to get permits to go in and out of San Trobida. There’d be quarantine to deal with-- with the way things are in the States, they’re especially cautious about Americans-- but it wouldn’t be an insurmountable hurdle.”

“Have you worked out who you want to actually carry the baby?”

“Estela’s going to be the birth mother,” Taylor said, giving her wife a small smile and reaching to squeeze her fingers. It had been a tough one. She knew there was part of Estela that felt guilt over the decision they’d reached, but it was a decision they had come to together and Taylor would not let there be any doubt where she stood on the matter. “We talked about it a lot. A lot. Figuring out which oven we want to put the bun in was a huge decision, and there was so much to consider. You know how amazing it would be for me to have a blood tie with someone. I’ve longed for that. And I’ve mostly worked through it; I mean, I’m made up of my family-- of you especially. It’s who I am; it might not be about DNA, but it doesn’t mean it’s not as powerful. It’s… part of the reason why I wanted to ask you. In every way that matters to me, you represent my family.”

Again, Diego found himself choked up.

“And for Estela, it was a little different.”

Estela flushed a little, and averted Diego’s eye contact. This was so intensely personal. “If I could pass on a small piece of my mother… I don’t have anything more precious to give my baby. She would have wanted to give my baby everything. This will have to be enough.” She gathered herself, looking back to offer Diego an awkward smile as he gave her a knowing nod. “I was uneasy about what else I would be passing on, but it’s a connection to Aleister and Grace, and maybe cousins someday.”

“We did consider partner IVF,” Taylor said. “That’s where we take the embryo from one mother and implant it in the uterus of the other, but it felt like… a lot. I don’t have a big attachment to the idea of pregnancy-- definitely not as much as ‘Stel does-- and it sounded like a whole lot of intervention. Nothing about my life has been straight-forward, you know? So I got really invested in the idea of doing this as naturally as possible. Just us, at home, building our family together. I know it’s asking a lot as a same-sex couple, but I’d much rather this didn’t have to become something clinical-- not unless it turns out we can’t get pregnant a simpler way.”

Diego swallowed past the hard lump in his throat. He would represent Taylor’s family. He would be a father figure, an honour bestowed by someone who actually saw him and loved him for it all. And he was going to love his best friend’s baby with every fibre of his being.

Concerned, Taylor rushed to reassure. “Just-- take your time, okay? I know this is huge--”

“No,” Varyyn said firmly, and he gave Diego a subtle nod. He knew his husband; he knew that look on his face, that sweet certainty. He’d seen that smile after he’d asked of Diego a very important question one Niala’rei several years ago.

Diego took Taylor’s hand in one of his, and Estela’s in the other… and breathed deep. “Of course-- of course, I’ll do it. More than anything in the world, I want to do this for you.”

The air filled with joyous squeals and the splash of water as the group erupted into embraces and a few more tears. Sandwiched between the two people she loved more than anything else in all the world, Taylor knew that together, they could make this happen.

__________________________

August 2022

Taylor’s heart sank as she looked at the result. Negative. Again.

Estela sighed and looked away. Again, no baby. Even knowing she could have done nothing more, it felt as though she’d let Taylor down when it really mattered. She’d promised her a family. And for herself…. Everything she’d ever wanted… her deepest desire… it was so close, only for them to be repeatedly smacked down by some invisible barrier.

“We’ll try again,” said Taylor quietly, trying to and failing to sound like someone who hadn’t just been crushed. “This is gonna happen for us, okay?”

Despairing, Estela threw her head back, fighting, fighting against the tears that so wanted to come. For several long minutes she wrestled with herself, with the torrent of emotion, before turning back to her wife. Her voice shook when she spoke. “Maybe… maybe we should try with you… it’s not as if I’m not made up of a load of shit that we shouldn’t really want to pass on to an innocent child. I’ve been selfish.”

“First of all; no. Not only are you not remotely a selfish person, you are freaking perfect… to me, you are perfect. Nothing you could give our baby could be anything but that. I love you. And I know how much you want this. I want it to be you. I want us to keep trying.”

Walking away, Estela could feel guilt clawing at her stomach. Of course she wanted to be the one to carry the baby, but if things kept up like this, there wouldn’t be a baby to carry. She sighed again, heavier, and curled up on the couch, knees against her chest. “Taylor, it’s been over a year…”

“We could see another doctor? But I trust what they said; everything’s working fine, it’s just not necessarily gonna happen overnight. I honestly think we’ve just been unlucky so far. And… and maybe it’s taken us a while to get our turkey-baster technique down.” Taylor sat down beside her wife and began massaging her back, feeling tension in every muscle. So much stress. “I know we wanted to do this at home, but we could consider intra-uterine, or even IVF. How about we give it one more month, and then start seriously looking at other options?”

For a long while, Estela said nothing, staring into space as she tried to process the aching disappointment. When she zoned back into reality, Taylor was still there, kneading her back. Another month… that was reasonable.

Taylor eased down the back of Estela’s shirt and pressed kisses between her shoulders. “I know how much you’re hurting right now… I’m feeling it too. Someday soon, we’ll hardly remember this; we’ll be too busy wading through diapers and trying to get a wink of sleep. But for now, I think it’s a comfort food under a blanket situation. We’ll just snuggle up in a love cocoon until whenever it is that we’re ready to put on brave faces.”

They cuddled beneath a blanket on the couch, grateful to have nothing pressing to do nor any people to see. So much thought, so many long nights of discussion had gotten them to the point of trying, but all the rationale, the planning… all of it mattered little if it just didn’t happen for them. In the end, how it happened wasn’t important; they just needed their family.

The disappointment was not getting any easier, month after month, even as it became expected. They now knew better than to get their hopes up too high. Once again, Taylor would go back to Diego to ask for his help… another round of ‘I’m sorry’s and hugs of consolation, while Estela would back into herself, becoming quiet and reclusive until the pain of the blow dulled. The days, then weeks, would pass, and the couple’s optimism would return as it always did. Together they’d literally undone an apocalypse; so long as they had one another’s hands to hold, they’d soldier through anything.

Estela let herself be held, the touch of her lover offering the only comfort strong enough to keep her from going under. It had been so long now. Doubts, once trifling, became magnified until they were near suffocating. She had gazed upon her reflection in their full-length mirror, taking the time to contemplate while Taylor’s voice floated up from downstairs as she’d filled Diego in with another crushing update. What Estela had seen there was not a nurturer, but a fighter. Her physique, though not perfectly toned as it had once been, was still not exactly cuddly. And the scars… god, there were so many. Wounds from knives, a sword… a freaking dinosaur… her body was just a painting of violence. And that was just the damage that could be seen; far more, far deeper were the scars to her heart and soul. What harm could someone like that do to an innocent baby? Perhaps nature was simply preventing a great cruelty….

“Hey?” Taylor whispered. A quiet grunt was all the reply she received, but Estela looked up, meeting her eyes. “Everything that you are is what’s going to make you a wonderful mom. One of the things… one of the things I’ve been most excited for is just, like… our baby’s gonna say something, do something, and I’ll be like ‘whoa, that’s an Estela thing’. There’s no one else I could even imagine doing this with.”

With a small sob, Estela held Taylor tighter.

“It’s the pain talking, okay? This isn’t anything rational. And I honestly believe this is who you’re meant to be. The first time you held Reggie, I was on the verge of crying because of how right it just was. You held him like you’d never let him fall. Everything you’ve been through has only made you love even harder. And it’s gonna happen; I swear it’s gonna happen… you are going to be such a good mom.”

Estela gently caressed Taylor’s lips with her own, tasting the salt of tears. For her, she’d be strong; it was what she’d always done. It was impossible to be broken for long whilst held in Taylor’s heart and embrace. She could cut through the doubts, just enough to take another step forward.

“Next time…” she said softly.

Taylor nodded and returned the kiss. God, I love you…

“…Next time….”

__________________________

September 2022

Pausing her frenzied scribbling of notes, Taylor pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. From her position cross-legged on the couch in their La Huerta home, she heard the creak of the front door.

“You’re home late,” she said, still poring over her notes. “Reggie holding you hostage again?”

Estela draped her arms over Taylor’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Yeah, something like that.”

Taylor couldn’t help but laugh. “I think a part of you is kinda flattered that you can’t give the kid to someone else without him dissolving into banshee screams…”

“He knows his tia.” Pausing for a moment, Estela waged a silent debate in her head before making up her mind for sure. “Taylor, I want to take the test…”

Taylor looked up. Spending so much time with their nephew had only heightened Estela’s want for a baby. The both of them adored Reginald; most days they saw him, cuddled him, loved him, effortlessly coming into their roles as aunts. But the presence of Aleister and Grace’s bright-eyed baby boy served to highlight exactly what they were missing. “I know. But if you wait a couple more days, it’ll be more accurate. This whole thing is tough enough without worrying about false negatives.”

Estela sat down opposite Taylor, reaching out for her hands. “I’ve just got a feeling, you know? I feel different.” She took her wife’s hand, and tucked it into her bra. “That’s swollen, right?”

“Possibly? But it’s early, sweetheart. I don’t want you getting carried away with something that might not exist.” Of course, it was easy to see signs when it was wanted so much. Between hanging around Reggie all day, and an upcoming journey back to San Trobida in a few days, the yearning was running wild. It was only natural that Estela wanted to greet her tio with the news that she was expecting, but Taylor feared another disappointment. She stroked Estela’s breast, while her other hand lovingly cupped her face. “You know that even if you are pregnant, it probably won’t show up yet?”

“I know that. I’ll do it again in a few days… I just don’t think I can rest without trying.”

“Okay… but don’t get your hopes up. Do you want me with you?”

Estela shook her head. “It’s all right. Like you said, it’s probably too early to work. I’m just trying to settle the voice in my head.” As she moved to leave, Taylor hugged her tight.

“Love you…”

“Love you.”

Taylor looked back to her notes. Their return to San Trobida would be momentous for her; starting up a much-needed youth counselling service in the area surrounding Estela’s home. It was what she’d studied for, and it was with nervous excitement that she jotted down ideas and sketched out plans. With the grants and scholarships that the Aleister and Estela’s inherited company had to offer, there was the feeling that they might be able to make a real difference in giving the children of the civil war hope for the future. The central inspiration to their work was, of course, Estela’s mother. Each award given out to a student was gifted in her name; it provided a small comfort that Dr. Olivia Montoya’s legacy was one of a promise for a better tomorrow. Taylor found herself distracted. They had fulfillment in one another, in the work they were doing… but the picture remained incomplete. The quiet having lingered for too long, Taylor got to her feet, putting her notes aside.

“Estela? Is everything all right?”

No response. Becoming worried, Taylor started towards the bathroom, expecting that she’d need to break out the emergency cheering-up ice cream, as had been a monthly occurrence since they’d started trying for a baby. She knew she’d been right. It had been foolish to cause such distress when another test would need to be taken a few days later anyway.

She tentatively pushed the door. “’Stel? I’m here…”

Estela was sat trembling on the tiled floor, her eyes wide and wet with tears, seemingly unable to look away from the test stick she held in her hand. Several others lay at her feet.

“…Taylor… I’m…” In her daze, she couldn’t even get the words out.

Tears sprung to Taylor’s eyes and her hand to her mouth. Surely… surely it couldn’t be what she thought it was? But then, that smile… that smile… it said it all.

“Wh-what are you… what are you saying?”

“We’re… we’re having a baby…”

Without knowing how she got there, Taylor was on the floor, Estela’s arms around her as they cried, and laughed, and kissed.

We’re having a baby.

#estela x mc #endless summer #playchoices #choices fanfiction #estela montoya #diego soto #liv montoya

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amyscascadingtabs · 3 years

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✨creator tag meme✨

i’ve been tagged in this by @feeisamarshmallow @dolston17 and @arnies-bitch and i love doing these every year (self love!) so, even though this year has been a year of far less fic-writing for me for various reasons... here goes ❤️

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

listed chronologically in terms of date published;

💫 i’ll walk through hell with you

i know i chose this one last year as well, BUT, i did write and publish the two-three last chapters of this in 2020 so i’m including it again. i’m so freaking proud of this one. it was an experience to write and i did SO much research and i had such fun with it. writing the two last chapters was such a high and i remember i wrote the sixth one in like three days where i just couldn’t stop. it was also the last fic i wrote and published with my original peraltiago kiddos leah and olivia santiago-peralta and it was lovely to get to say goodbye to them in style. plus the way i literally predicted trying.. my mind ❤️ (i do have a document of the similarities and how i worded it vs how the show did it... if any fan of this is curious)

a favourite quote:

But what I was actually trying to say was…” Jake blushes, and she can tell there’s a moment of emotional sincerity coming. “I’m with you. I know that. I also know that as long as I’m with you, all the bad stuff is survivable, and all the good stuff is a million times better. And I’d rather have hard days with you, and Lee, and I guess soon whoever this is,” he holds his hand to her stomach through her sweater, “than good days with anyone else.”

“Me too,” she snivels, having to wipe the tears on her shirt sleeve because of course, this is making her cry. “How’d you get so wise all of a sudden?”

“Married you,” he shrugs. “And had kids. Also, I got hella old.”

💫 paper cut stings from our paper-thin plans

was this possibly the only fic i wrote this year that was (almost) baby-free? probably. i blame it on season 7. but yes; i wrote a fic about rosa dealing with her breakup from jocelyn and it was great fun and made me want to write even more rosa (which i did!). she’s just great, and writing her with amy is incredible. plus, i got such amazing guidance from @vernonfielding with this one which i think truly brought out the best in this story.

a favourite quote:

“I hate it,” Rosa mutters. “I didn’t get a fucking choice. I never knew how much of a difference that made.”

“Well, now you know. It sucks. But...” Amy leans her head to the side. “Maybe that’s a good thing, too?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If it hurts, that means it mattered, right? If you miss something, then there was something to miss in the first place. It means you opened yourself up and built something of meaning with someone. I know that doesn’t make it easier -”

Rosa snorts. “No, it doesn’t.”

“But it might mean that something can matter again,” Amy says, fixing her eyes on Rosa’s. “Someday. Even if it feels impossible right now.”

💫 bracing for the winds i always summon

we all know i love some sweet amy content... this was one of the things i wrote early on in covid quarantine life, and it brings out a lot of memories. i do still consider going back and editing the last parts so they can fully agree with canon, but i’ve not had the energy quite yet. either way, i’m really proud of the way i wove canon and minor episode details into this one. we got such limited pregnant amy content and i wanted more! i’ve reread this one a ton of times, because it’s just.. satisfying to me. i answered a lot of my own questions in it. filling in the holes!!

a favourite quote:

She’s felt protective of this life since the day she found out about it, but it’s a great and positive change to be able to feel like she’s starting to know the child she’s protecting. She doesn’t know his name, although it keeps being debated, or what he looks like aside from the gray-and-white sonogram pictures, but she knows he’s most awake at night before they go to bed and that he moves like crazy to the sound of Jake humming renditions of his favorite Taylor Swift-tunes to him, and it feels like the most important information she’s ever known about someone.

Maybe she’s okay at making babies, Amy thinks. She’s wholly certain this child is too good for her, is still worried he’ll be taken away at a moment’s notice, but right now he’s here, and he’s making her want to try her best.

💫 (three times ‘cause) i’ve waited my whole life

i didn’t write very much this summer for several reasons, but what little motivation i had for writing, mostly went to this one. it was originally meant to be for father’s day and i published it in september, so i missed out slightly there, but i’m still really proud of it. writing jake and his feelings about fatherhood is something i’ve always enjoyed so much, and this was 13k words of doing just that. i’m proud of so much in this fic, and i’m really happy i actually finished it in the end. god i love jake and baby mac ❤️

a favourite quote:

Jake is amazed by how much better fatherhood has gotten with time. It was always the most amazing thing to ever happen to him, but it was so different when his son was a newborn. Mac was rarely awake for the first weeks, and when he was, he was either stuck to Amy for feeding or crying because he was overtired or needed his diaper changed. Jake always loved his son, but for the first month or so, he felt pretty useless around him. The daily attempts at bottle-feeding, and the precious times Mac fell asleep against his Jake’s chest as they walked around the apartment at night, had made up most of their bonding time together. It was still wonderful, and Jake can miss the time when Mac actually stayed where you put him, but in the end, it’s got nothing on what fatherhood is like at eight months in. Now, Mac interacts with them, laughing and smiling and trying to babble gibberish back at them when they talk to him. He’s always on the move, like he’s anxious to miss out on anything the world has to offer if he sits still for too long. Judging from the way he’s currently trying to use the tree next to them to get up to a standing position, Jake wonders how long they’ve got left until he’s walking. It’s clear that Mac has his own personality now, no longer just traces of it hidden in a newborn’s constant needs, and every day of fatherhood seems to bring a new adventure.

There had been a time when Jake wasn’t sure if he wanted this. Little did he know, it’s better than anything he could have dreamt.

💫 when all your heroes get tired (i’ll be something better yet)

last but not least, my second sleuth sisters fic of the year and second rosa fic too! i’ve thought about writing this since i watched lights out; i love writing rosa and amy so much and it’s always fun to write jake and amy from someone else’s perspective, especially as i think the choice by the show to have them keep their pregnancy private when everyone had already figured it out was so interesting. i love supportive rosa and i love the relationship she’s going to have with mac and i love her secretly loving babies. they’re so cute it’s fucked up!!!! anyway, yeah; i love writing rosa and this was such a fun challenge.

a favourite quote:

There’s a tenderness even to the way she speaks to him, like love is packed into each word. Rosa thinks of the way Amy hid her pregnancy for months in fear that something would go wrong, and how scared she was that giving birth under less than ideal circumstances would somehow make her a bad mom. She doesn’t seem as scared anymore. Rather, there’s an air of quiet confidence over her when she’s holding him, and it’s moving to see.

“Slow down, McClane,” she whispers, thumb stroking over his cheek. “I know you’re hungry, but if you keep going like that, you’re going to puke, okay? We’ve been through this.”

“I’m proud of you,” the words spill out of Rosa, and Amy blinks.

“You’re proud of me?”

“Yeah, I’m proud of you.” A shy smile flutters across Amy’s lips. “But if you ever have another kid, I’m not going near you a month before you’re due, okay? I’ll transfer precincts or something. Never again.”

Amy laughs, but Rosa just stares at her, and she goes silent. “Got it. Cool. That’s fair.”

tags 2019/2018 ❤️

i’m tagging @johnny-and-dora, @letsperaltiago, @amydancepants-peralta, @b99peraltiago and @nessa007 to do some self love over any creations this year you're proud of ❤️❤️❤️

#my writing #johanna talks writing #tag games

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ofhoneyandrosepetals · 4 years

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Summer Roads - Chapter 4

Pairing: Sean x Fem! reader

Description: You’ve always been Lyla’s best friend, but since Sean moved you became an inseparable trio. But who could say that, after all these years together, you would start growing feelings for Sean?

Warning: swearings only.

Word count: 1.741

A/N: I really wanted a gif of Sean smiling and that’s the one I could find. Plus, the subtle kinda holds the vibe from the end of the chapter :)

“Ugh, finally, I was starting to think you guys decided to bail on me,” that’s how Lyla received you and Sean.

“Not today, no,” Sean said. You giggled.

“Good to know you’re up to something. I’ll keep tabs on you two.”

“Me too?” You pointed to yourself. “But I didn’t said anything.”

“I’ll. Keep. Tabs.” You hoped this wasn’t true, because you thought if Lyla suspected anything, you would be dead.

“Uh, backyard?” You raised your bag, indicating if you should leave the things there. Lyla nodded.

“I can see you brought some food, too.”

“Not food exactly, it’s more like… things we chew.”

“You want to say chips, don’t you?” Lyla said deadpan.

“But they are…”

“Girls, I really don’t wanna pull that thread,” Sean passed his arms around yours and Lyla’s shoulders.

“I thought knowledge was always welcomed,” Lyla said.

“Only during school. It’s summer, Ly,” you gave a kiss on her cheek and went outside.

Starting to place your sleeping bag, Lyla lied on the grass, arms behind her head. Sean sat on the bench, elbows on knees.

“I have the feeling that this summer is going to be a special one,” Lyla started.

“Why’s that? Sometimes I think that too, it’s my last summer before becoming a freshman. But you’re going to be a sophomore,” you said.

“Hey, I’m going to be a freshman too,” Sean says.

“You guys are so cute. Don’t worry, we’ll always be together there.”

“You putting it like that makes us feel like kids, as if you were some big grown up,” you were too wrapped up on your own thoughts to pay attention to Sean or Lyla. You guessed she was right, but not because of the changes high school would bring. Maybe it was because how the sun rose on the first day of summer vacations, how the morning was cool but as time kept going it got a little warmer. The sun was this shining guiding light hanging on a blue, clear sky, that if you glared too much at you would start feeling lost.

It was easy to get lost when the sky had no clouds.

“Earth calling Y/N?” You hear someone calling you.

“Yes?” You answer both ways, Sean and Lyla.

“I was thinking that, since Lyla can’t stop saying how this summer is special and whatever shit…”

“Hey!” She protests.

“It made me remember she promised me long ago I could tag her wall.”

“My mom is gonna freak,” Lyla said.

“I think it’s a good idea. Maybe Sean could put our three ideas into one.”

“I’m not that much of a pro,” Sean said humble.

“C’mon Seanie, have some faith,” you say. “You’re great.”

“I think I have a board we could tag and just hang in the wall, it’s better this way. I’ll keep my promise and my mom won’t kill me.”

“You’ll keep an edited promise, but that works,” you nod in concordance.

“Okay, lemme find it.”

“What you have on your mind?” Sean asks you.

“What?” You got caught off guard.

“For the mural. What you have in mind?” He asked with a smile, one you couldn’t take your eyes off from.

“The beach,” you said without thinking first. “I always wanted to visit California, all that coast surf. My brother lives there with my father.”

“Yeah, I remember. It seems like a nice place.”

“Maybe you’re watching too many TV?” Lyla said, a big board covering her. You could only see her hands and feet.

“I don’t think it’s too much different from what they show. At least not from what my brother tells me.”

“Oh, right, he lives there, doesn’t he? I forgot. Well, my idea for this summer is a lot of skating. Sean?” Lyla places the board on the fence, where the paint wouldn’t reach the wall.

“I guess I know what I’ll do. Let the pro work now.”

“I thought you said you were no pro,” Lyla teases.

“Shoosh.”

Sean grabbed some spray can from his backpack while Lyla dragged your ass all the way across the backyard. She started chattering about the summer, the parties and the new year in high school, having ideas of what you three could do and go. She was so excited that she didn’t even noticed you kept your eyes on Sean working, or at least you thought so. You noticed how his hair was starting to grow and wondered if this time he would let it grow through summer.

You followed every movement of his, how his hand held the spray can and how his arm moved around to tag, how sometimes he would get down or be on tiptoe. Eventually you remembered yourself to look at Lyla and nod your head, trying to keep it casual. You didn’t want your crush to be so obvious, or obvious at all.

Watching Sean working made you realize how you liked every part of him, because every part of him made sense. It was… what he was made of.

“Are you guys peaking? I really prefer you to not,” he said loud enough so he didn’t need to turn his head.

“No!” Lyla answers and turns your head to her, grabbing your chin. “You never could not peak on his art, right? You were always so curious,” breathing nervously, hoping like hell Lyla didn’t suspected anything, you shrug.

“Nothing I can do. I like it.”

“I know,” and Lyla started from where she stopped. Maybe this was a good sign, she didn’t paused her plans to try a talk with you on the matter. “Do you think you need anything new for you roller skates?”

“Uhn… no? I guess.”

“You’ve been using them for a while, isn’t time for an upgrade?”

“I take good care of it,” besides, Sean gave me them, you added in thoughts. You had no plans on changing anything about those roller skates.

“I was thinking that maybe I could work on them.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, hold up,” you rose your hands. “Forbidden territory. No touch.”

“No fair, you let Sean sketch on them!”

“That’s because he was the one who gave me them,” you said without much confidence.

“I see that favoritism there. It’s unfair, I’ve known you longer.”

“I’m hearing that discussion and I don’t like it, I’m feeling pushed aside!” Sean said out loud.

“You know I love you, Seanie, but it’s not me, it’s Y/N.”

“I’m just protecting my roller skates,” you defend yourself.

“Now I’m offended,” Lyla said, a finger up.

“We all know your skateboard is a deadly machine,” Sean said.

“Artists are not supposed to give their opinion,” you heard Sean laughing. “Seriously, Y/N.”

“Seriously, Lyla. My roller skates are perfect, I take care of them. I keep maintenance,” she puffed. “But I know you always wanted to give my backpack a treat. To compensate you, I’ll let you do it tonight.”

“FINALLY!” Lyla shouts. “Gimme the thing.”

“It’s called a backpack.”

“Gimme,” smiling, you handed her your backpack. Lyla went inside the house for a couple of minutes and got back with a little box. “You’re not allowed to choose the patches.”

“Your responsibility,” you said raising your hands. You watched Lyla work on your backpack, but here and there you would glare at Sean for a few seconds.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Lyla pointed.

“I guess this afternoon got me tired.”

“Maybe. You do seem a bit off today. Do you miss your brother? I know he visits every summer.”

“I haven’t thought about it, really. Maybe it’s this whole summer idea, it got me dazed,” you throw your head back, hitting the fence behind you. “I do feel kinda off,” without noticing, your look froze on Sean, but you didn’t notice him. Lyla rose an eyebrow. “I just want to have the best time before school starts again.”

“Oh… I know what this is about. Your first high school year. You’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” you said defensively.

“You just don’t know it, hun. I felt like that too. But now we’re gonna be together, all three of us. Besides, you’ll always have Sean by your side.”

“That’s true!” He shouted from the distance.

“My guess is that you feel like you’re leaving something behind,” Lyla said and this time you looked at Sean. You were leaving something behind, you felt like it, but you weren’t sure what it was and what it meant to start growing feelings for Sean, your childhood friend, almost like a brother. You smiled.

“I guess so. Thanks, Ly.”

“But I haven’t said anything.”

“You said enough.”

“Well, I do acknowledge I’m a terrific friend.”

“Ladies, I’m done!” Sean announced and Lyla pushed you to the ground.

“I tag your ass!” She ran to see Sean’s work. You got up laughing and when you got to her side you pushed her. “Wow,” you heard her saying before you could take a look.

It was a beach, leading you to assume Sean wanted to represent California. At the beach, in the middle of the sand, was a huge skate ramp, and you could see skaters all around. And, attacking them, coming out of the water, was an enormous squid, its tentacles grabbing the skaters and crushing the ramp.

“Dude, that’s rad,” Lyla said. “I loved it.”

“Yeah, me too,” you tapped his shoulder. “But maybe you should let us add something? So it could be our mural?” Sean gave you what you judged to be his biggest smile ever.

“How couldn’t I think about it? Yeah, sure.”

You and Lyla grabbed each a spray can and exchanged looks.

“Is this what I think it is?”

“If you’re thinking about the same thing I’m thinking.”

“Why do girls do it?” Sean mumbled.

“I get tops,” you say. Lyla nodded.

You could see Lyla making little roller skates on some of the squid’s tentacles while you made a giant bow on its head.

“Oh my fucking god,” you heard Sean laughing. “You are creative, aren’t you?”

“We are,” Lyla said proudly and wrote her initials at the corner of the board. You did the same and, after you, Sean.

You noticed your pointer finger was pink and you held it up for your friends to see. Lyla’s was blue and Sean’s had a little rainbow on his.

“To the best summer ever,” Lyla said and you three touched your pointer fingers, as some kind of toast.

#sean diaz #sean diaz x reader #sean diaz fic #life is strange 2 #life is strange 2 fic #lis 2 #lis 2 fic

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uthseikoashx-inflamedme · 4 years

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Personal favourite HP (&FB) fanfictions (but unfortunately it’s mostly GGAD)

posted: 08-10-2020 edited: 08-24-2020

(really sorry for the mistakes! fanfics are better i swear)

I read several HP and FB fanfics during the last few months, and in order to sum up my favourite ones, here is this post. It’s entirely and obviously personal, and to be honest, it’s more something which is more supposed to help me than recommanding something to you

But I truly think those fanfictions are great, so if you didn’t already read them, you may enjoy them!

I might update it every now and then, by the way!

(most of them are already quite well-known though, sorry)

Put Your Guns Away, it’s Tea Time (52k) and Put Your Curse in Reverse (276k) (from the It’s Tea Time serie), written by ellizablue :

A very lovely, funny and well-written story which follows Albus Severus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy, Harry and Ginny Potter, the rest of the Potter-Weasley family and all of the surrounding people after the events of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child.

It’s technically canon-compliant - the author created an amazing story based on HPCC - and did it so well! I admit I was a bit disappointed about HPCC when it had been published, but It’s Tea Time “fixed” all of the things I was confused about.

Albus’ and Scorpius’ relationship is adorable, both of them are interesting characters. Harry and Ginny are amiable and attentive parents, they protect people they love. James Sirius and Lily Luna are also great - and to be honest, all of the characters are refreshing, complex, ect. I could talk about it throughout countless of pages. So many themes are brilliantly treated. I still didn’t read the third opus of the series!

(if I should recommand one only series of HP fanfictions, I would recommand this one)

Several fanfictions written by meanwhiletimely :

Illumine (10k) :

In Prague in 1914, Albus Dumbledore goes to a Gellert Grindelwald’s brillant speech. The political discussion between Albus and Henry Potter, how Gellert is able to enthrall a breathless crowed, Gellert’s and Albus’ very special and intense relationship, the wonderful Christian imagery and parallels, the description of the surrounding world and the ambiance, Gellert’s speech... It is quite marvellous, well-written and perfectly bitter-sweet - more bitter than sweet though. Eventual smut, very good, but imo, it cannot be considered as the very heart of the text, even though the sexual tension is omnipresent. I can't help but read it oftenly, and everytime I'm amazed - it might be my favourite GGAD fanfiction in fact. Brilliant.

Extreme Incantations (10k) :

In order to find clues about the Elder Wand story, Albus and Gellert try a “decadent, degenerate, deranged” ritual. A lot of smut, but again, their relationship and their psychology are absolutely central. I loved how they are portrayed, loved to discover Gellert’s thoughts and point of view. Again, it’s brilliantly bitter-sweet - even quite heartbreaking. Like Illumine, I have so much more to say, but I’ll stop here and just say: if you are interested by Summer of 1899 fanfictions, you could be delighted to discover it.

The Seer in the Tower (2k5) and Collateral (3k) are as great as Illumine and Extreme Incantations. In the first one, Tom Riddle meets Gellert Grindelwald after 1945 ; in the second one, Gellert and Ariana talk thanks the Resurection Stone. Light Bringer (10k), which sums up the Summer of 1899, is also amazing - incredibly painful, hopeless and horrendous, and Gellert Grindelwald is definitely not a good person - but still amazing.

Thirty-Five Owls (11k) by Letterblade :

After 1945, Albus and Gellert sent letters to each other - and I will add nothing more about the plot. A quite famous fanfiction - published in 2008 - and rightfully recognised as a brillant one. Beautifully written, the tag "Everything Hurts" is accurate, constantly breathtaking. I loved more than everything else the end - overwhelming, and yet so simple. Even canon-compliant, what more could we ask? In a nutshell, an unmissable work.

White (2k) (M) by Vandrerska :

“The story Gellert Grindelwald would tell if somebody took the trouble to ask.”, or a magnificiently well-written 1st person POV fic with Gellert talking about Albus and 1899. Here is the same vibe we already have in Thirty-Five Owls, but with the benefit of a heart-to-heart conversation between Gellert and the reader directly. Needless to say that both of the hearts involved in the conversation are broken. I love how it is written (but it is no surprise, well-crafted angsty texts like this one own my heart).

nobody else but me (5k) by Roflskate :

After meeting Percival Graves and starting a correspondence with the very head of MACUSA's Department of Law Enforcement in 1926, Albus Dumbledore thinks he's finally ready to move on from Gellert Grindelwald. Well, if you saw Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, you know he's not.

I'm fond of the plot: the way we, as readers, already know how that story is doomed to end, is the very heart of the text - and speaking of the end, I loved it - just like Thirty-Five Owls, simple and heartrending. Again, bitterness is back. Beware of the manipulation and the very questionable consent, it's literally the plot.

(btw, this work inspired this post: GG as Hogwarts teacher/librarian before FBaWtFT: where are the fanfics? (if someone wants to write it please i will be pretty happy))

(In every bloody fanfiction I recommend Albus is suffering, sorry about that) (and it's not going to end with the next fanfic) (suffering is inherent to the character though so)

The Trial of Albus Dumbledore (51k) by Aurora_xx :

In this post-FBCoG AU, Albus Dumbledore is questioned about his relations with Gellert Grindelwald. But before his trial, he unknowingly took Veritaserum. To be honest, I felt it first as a “satisfying” AU: people we don’t like became a bit ridiculous, people we like get through (well, mostly).

Nonetheless, it’s more than that: the trial scene is incredibly tense, the consequences are terrible, and we want to see what's going to happen next. Moreover, the character development is suprisingly remarkably well-done - Vinda Rosier has an amazing backstory, for example; Newt and Newt’s friends are also very likeable, complex, etc. We love to hate Travers, Grindelwald is a character we eventually support (for specific reasons, mostly because he’s powerful, self-confident, rather hilarious and badass, but also a bit more human than we could think). And all we want to do is taking care of Albus.

It’s definitely a really pleasant fanfiction - but not an “easy” one, there are a lot of hard themes and very tense scenes, etc. This story is still considered as a WIP, though the five first chapters are already enough.

Three fics of mautadite :

A Metaphor for Change (1k) (M) : I will just rewrite the summary here, so: "Five things Albus could not bring himself to say to Gellert. (One of them is a lie.)”. I really liked it, it is angsty - but the sweetest way, the very sad way.

To Be Great (0.3k) (G) : What Albus and the Sorting Hat said when Albus put the Hat on his head for the first time. Really a relevant and sharp character study. Again, I felt a hint of a sweet kind of angst. I wonder if I am the only one, you tell me.

Love Letters (6k) (E) : Scenes of Gellert’s and Albus’ life from 1995 to 1899 - often conversations, so say hello to well-crafted relationships between mc and other characters. Here comes the angst again (I think the author writes Albus and Gellert that way - or maybe, the characters are meant to be suffused by angsty undertones). The fact that we go back in time hurts a lot, because every smile they have are perverted by our knowledge of what happens next - the happiness won’t last, and really, it hurts. Canon compliant.

GGAD works of verivala (bloodtroth on tumblr)

Many short one-shots, from fluff to angst - sometimes droll, sometimes soft, often painful, quite always (a bit or a lot) bitter-sweet. You might at least find few of them interesting.

Grindeldore one-shots (22 works)

Grindeldore requests (5 works)

Grindeldore prompt fills (38 works)

L’Indiscible (190k) by Neaniver279

This one is a French one! Deux ans après la fin de la guerre, Percy Weasley - profondément meurtri par la mort de Fred, de laquelle il s’estime responsable - est renvoyé par une mystérieuse potion au 25 décembre 1975. Plusieurs élèves de Poudlard attirent son attention et son affection, voire un en particulier, Sirius Black.

Un pairing très inhabituel qui fonctionne bien ; un Percy Weasley passionnant - faillible, perdu dans ses doutes et sa culpabilité, mais avec une répartie, une malice et une sensibilité hors du commun ; des Maraudeurs et des jumeaux Weasley attachants, avec une personnalité définie et nuancée ; une idée originale géniale, car si le voyage dans le temps ouvre des portes à une nouvelle palette de réflexions et d’expériences pour Percy, il permet aussi d’intégrer un mystère et de la tension autour de la potion, l’Indiscible.

Pas d’underage, mais une relation prof-élève tout de même - tout du moins, pendant un segment de l’histoire. Intéressante, touchante, très drôle, amère, complexe et pathétique. WIP.

Thanks for reading, I hope it had helped!

Thanks to all of the authors also! You are brave, tenacious and doing an amazing work. Thanks a lot! :)

(And of course, beware of the tags, if you are triggered by specific content - homophobia, blood, hospital, violence, explicit sex scenes, manipulation, death, etc)

08-24-2020 edit: Thirty-Five Owls, nobody else but me and verivala’s works added. 02-18-2021 edit: White and mautadite’s works added.

(08-24-2020: i’m also currently interested by Kierkegarden’s works, an already quite inevitable GGAD author, I might add some of them later)

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writerofblocks · 4 years

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Nostalgia Isn’t a Bad Thing, Chapter 1: Dancing Queen

[kicks open door] WHAT’S UP FUCKERS, REMEMBER THIS SON OF A BITCH???

If you don’t, I’ll explain. Roundabout 2015, there was a Big Bang event for the Saints Row fandom on Tumblr, in which authors wrote fics while artists illustrated something for the fic, and they were then published together. Being the procrastinating perfectionist that I was (and still am), I ended up writing down to the wire to hit the required word count. While I did succeed and the product was good, I’ve always wondered what I could do with the writing ability I have now and the time to actually tweak things instead of slapping them on the page in the unhinged frenzy of a writer with a deadline.

Wonder no more. Here’s the rewritten first chapter, with the rest (plus new chapters) to come in the future. Many thanks to @eulerami for the wonderful comments on the original fic and the encouragement that led to this edition gaining the life it needed to get on the page; @chyrstis for talking shop about Troy with me; @saintsrow1 for the last-min readthrough; and everyone else who’s endured my crazed tittering about this beast.

I’ll put this on AO3 when I actually figure out what to tag it all with.

1 / 2 / 3 / ?

EDIT: Now on AO3!

Summary: A chance encounter at an Ultor event with a certain Chief of Police leads Bridget to revisit some key moments in her life.

Newton’s third law of Motion states that “for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction”- or in other words, “karma’s a bitch”. If she hadn’t been so caught up in defenestrating Dane Vogel’s ass, Bridget thought, she might have realized sooner that dominating an absurdly powerful corporate conglomerate meant she had to take responsibility for said conglomerate. Thinking through consequences was a self-admitted weak point, though it was one she wore with a certain amount of pride. Up until recently her fast paced world was one of blood and malice. Who had time to think when hesitation meant a bullet in your chest?

That was then, though, and this now carried a different cadence. It was a salsa instead of a striptease, tight and controlled and full of steps that would break her ankle (and then some) if she stumbled. Life was dictated by her assistant’s little black book, stuffed past the point of full with appointments and photoshoots and important events she just couldn’t miss, this was really important Ms. Summers, hey where are you going they need you in Meeting Room B right now.

She’d never thought she’d see the day where she was sick of parties.

Granted, this was a classy party, not the spontaneous eruptions of joy and debauchery that so often decorated Purgatory’s halls. Maintenance, as her assistant referred to this particular type of affair. Got to make nice with our shareholders and other important people. Connections are capital.

Maybe so. But these weren’t her people. They were old money, used to luxury and born knowing the steps to the song of high society. She was clumsy in comparison, new money unable to bridge the gap between the realms of low and high class. At least she still had an intimidation factor to fall back on when a lack of social graces threatened her control of the situation; the flinch she felt when she shook another old stooge’s hand always brought a smile to her face.

By this point in the evening, she’d already gotten as much entertainment out of scaring guests as she could. She’d paid her dues and made nice with a few investors that didn’t actively make her want to vomit, stolen all the fancy horderves that looked appetizing, and sent out a threatening enough aura that cleared the tables next to her so she could finally get some peace. Now she was free to kick back, relax, and…

Feel lonely as hell, she supposed. Being the leader of the Saints meant the obligation of making an appearance at major events, but she never subjected the LTs to this kind of torture if she could help it. Pierce would sometimes come along, if only to schmooze and promote himself. Gat avoided events in general like the plague (she didn’t blame him). Shaundi was a riot at parties even after she decided to cut back on the drugs, but she was busy filming her show halfway across the continent, so that was a bust.

Bridget leaned back in her chair and took another swig of wine. She let it linger, trying to detect the “hints” and “notes” of flavor everyone talked about when sampling wine, but all she could taste was an alcoholic burn alongside the sweetness of fruit. Things didn’t used to be this hard to understand. Gangsters died, turf was taken, money was made and there weren’t a thousand questions swirling around her head. How had this become her life? Where had everything gone wrong- or right? Which was it, wrong or right? Who even was she, now-?

“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

Bridget sputtered, her last swallow of wine catching in her throat. Damn it, she thought as she bent her head to cough. Serves me right for getting lost in thought. The hell did your guard go, Summers?

The man- she assumed it was a man, the dark blue dress pants she could see at the top of her field of vision suggested as much- patted her back as she continued to cough. “Better out than in,” the man said, amusement making its way through his voice despite his best efforts.

The coughing eventually slowed enough to let her raise her head, a withering glare already in place. “Who the fuck hits on a lady like that-” she began to say, but whatever scathing words she was about to throw out shriveled on her tongue as she finally noticed who was in front of her.

Troy Bradshaw. Chief of Police Troy Bradshaw. Chief of Police Troy fucking Bradshaw, with his stupid mustache and his stupid grin at her expense and his stupid fucking police uniform and his stupid asshole existence making her spill decent enough booze stupid stupid stupid-

Troy gave a delicate cough and gestured at the chair next to her. “Is, uh, this seat taken?”

Bridget shook her head. Second time he’s gotten you tonight, Summers. You’re slipping. “Does it look like someone’s sitting in it?” she replied out loud. “Do what you want, Bradshaw, but answer one question for me.” Bridget took one last swig of the wine, then pointed the empty wineglass at him. “Why the fuck are you here?”

Troy lifted an eyebrow, but sat down in the chair regardless. “Same reason I’d assume you’re here for,” he replied, retrieving a cream-colored envelope from a pocket (where the fuck did he have pockets in that clown suit) and handing it to her. “Guess I’m important enough to have at a ball celebrating city leaders.”

Bridget blinked. Oh yeah. That was the reason for the party. “Started a few hours ago, though,” she said, hastily waving a hand about to cover up her realization. “Get stuck in traffic or something?”

“Nah, got caught up at work. Had to tackle a mountain of paperwork because somebody-” he threw a sudden glare at her. “-decided blowing up a city block was a good way to start a Saturday night.”

Bridget hid the hint of a smirk on her face, choosing instead to gesture with her wine glass. “Excuse you, it wasn’t an entire city block. Just a building. Maybe two. Some upshots were trying to break into the drug trade in Stilwater with a haphazard cooking rig.” She set the wine glass down and leaned her elbows on the table, smiling at Troy over tented fingers. “I decided to do my civic duty and… convince them not to.”

Troy answered with a wry smile of his own. “Civic duty, huh? Right. The only way you’d do civic duty is as part of a chain gang.”

Bridget stuck her tongue out at Troy. “Mean.”

“Accurate,” Troy corrected her.

“Something can be accurate and mean at the same time. And besides-” She gestured at their surroundings. “Why else would I be here if not for my contributions to our fair city of Stilwater?”

Troy scoffed. “Like what?”

It was Bridget’s turn to smile wryly, sitting up straighter and shrugging to hide the way everything in her tightened at the question. “I don’t know. I guess being Ultor’s prize lap dog counts as a contribution.”

The instant regret on Troy’s face almost made her laugh. Almost. “Shit, I didn’t mean it like that-”

Bridget waved a hand. “It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine. “It’s a reasonable question.” It really was. She didn’t belong here. She was as shallow and vain and money-gorged and stained with innocent blood as everyone else in this room, and she still didn’t belong here. She was never going to have a place anywhere remotely close to “normal” society. That ship had sailed already, and here she sat, tainted and clumsy and five years out of touch-

Someone laid a hand on her shoulder, jolting her through the fog engulfing her brain. She’d almost instinctively shaken it off- who the fuck had enough of a death wish to touch her?- before she heard a familiar voice in her ear. “You still with me, Bridget?” it murmured.

Bridget blinked. Troy had scooted closer without her noticing, brow furrowed in a manner that somehow managed to be infuriating and comforting at the same time. She wanted to hate it- wanted to hate the concern she found in his eyes, the rigid set to his shoulders she recognized from far too many nights stressing over plans back in the day. She wanted it to be disingenuous- it wasn’t. She should have pushed it away- instead she laid her hand over his and squeezed it. “Yeah,” she mumbled. “Yeah, I’m here. I’m back.”

The tension dropped from his shoulders, relief spreading over his face. “Scared me for a second, Bridge,” he said, pulling away to a respectable distance. “Think the stress is getting to you.”

Bridget huffed a laugh, the fog slowly dispersing. “You’re one to talk about stress.”

Troy offered a shrug. “Guilty as charged.”

Silence fell between them, not quite comfortable, not entirely awkward. Troy sipped at his wine and looked without seeing at the other attendees; Bridget drummed her fingers on the table and searched for something to say. There was always a purpose to the few times they’d met in person in recent years, and sans one she was at a loss for something to talk about. Or at least, something to talk about with the Chief of fucking Police that wouldn’t count as a confession.

She was about to stand up and give an excuse for leaving when Troy broke the silence. “Know how to dance?” he asked, gesturing to the open area in the center of the tables.

Bridget shrugged. “I’m not entirely hopeless at it. Does that count?”

Troy chuckled. “It does.”

Bridget stood up from the table and placed the empty wine glass down. “Lead the way, then.”

===

They were in luck; the quartet in the corner of the ballroom was starting a new song when they approached the dance floor. Bridget mentally shook her head as they found a place among the rest of the dancing pairs. A goddamn quartet. Better than getting her ears blown out by club speakers, but way too pretentious for her taste.

Troy placed one hand on her shoulder and the other on her hip, barely applying any pressure at all. It was the awkward touch of someone who didn’t know where they stood with the person they were touching. Cautious. Inquiring. Trying not to step over boundaries but at the same time probing to find where those boundaries were.

In other words, typical Troy behavior.

Bridget rolled her eyes. For fuck’s sake, they were adults, not pre-teens at a middle school dance. She put her hands where they were supposed to be on his body- with the correct amount of pressure, thank you very fucking much, if she was going to dance to this shit she was going to do it right- and started moving them around the dance area.

You don’t need to manhandle the man, Bridget, the sensible part of her brain piped up.

Shut it, the rest of her brain hissed.

To their mutual credit, they tried to dance. Something just wasn’t connecting, to Bridget’s irritation. She kept bumping into Troy, who seemed to be following some rhythm far off from the current song’s rhythm. That wasn’t even mentioning how stiff his movement’s were, almost a pantomime of the dance steps they were attempting.

Frustration began to curdle low in her gut, ready to erupt. She let loose a derisive snort in an attempt to lose some of the steam. “God, you dance like a tree.”

Troy frowned. “How so?”

Bridget’s mouth curled into a grin. “Wooden as hell. What, they didn’t teach you how to schmooze with higher-ups at the police academy?”

That got more of a reaction. Troy’s eyes narrowed. “Pots and kettles, Ms. Summers,” he shot back, twirling her around. “Ultor is one of the richest corporations on the planet, and they didn’t set aside any money for dance lessons?”

“Bitch, I used to work a pole, I don’t need dance lessons-”

“Pole dancing isn’t the same thing-”

“But they did make me take etiquette lessons,” Bridget admitted. Step back, side, forward, side. She hadn’t hit Troy’s foot in a while.

It was Troy’s turn to snort, the air from his nose making his mustache flutter. “Let me guess, you slept through all of them.”

Laughter bubbled from Bridget’s chest, rich and amused. “Only a few. Give me some credit.”

Step together, back, together again. The music was faster now, full of life. There were others around them, she knew, but fuck them. This patch of the floor was for them alone, finally moving in harmony.

“Gotta say it, Bradshaw,” Bridget said, breaking the brief silence. “You clean up nice when you try to.” It wasn’t a lie, either- maybe there was some merit to the idea of a man in uniform. Whoever did the tailoring needed a raise.

Troy’s eyebrows flew upward, but eventually settled as he shot her a grin. “Not so bad yourself, Summers.” He twirled her again, the dress flaring out as she spun.

Bridget grinned at him in turn. “It’s a good one, isn’t it?” she replied, twirling herself to get her skirts to flare again. It was form fitting in the right places, but with enough room to move her legs so she didn’t feel cramped. If she was honest, it’d been the only thing keeping her at the party for the last hour. Where else was she supposed to wear a dress as awesome as this?

Troy hummed his assent, then went quiet. Too quiet. The ‘I’m thinking about something and don’t necessarily want to tell you’ kind of quiet.

Bridget narrowed her eyes. “..What?”

Troy cleared his throat. “Just thinking. Back when you first joined the Saints, you wouldn’t be caught dead in a skirt, and now…”

“Hey!” Bridget exclaimed, maneuvering them away from the middle of the dance floor. “I had a reputation to maintain back then, you know. Skirts would have broken the image.”

“Does ‘pretending to be a dude’ count as an image?” Troy teased, leaning her down into a dip.

Bridget huffed as she came back up. The nerve of him. “Pretending, my ass. You and Julius were the ones who started that.”

The rhythm they’d managed to find together came to a screeching halt. Troy’s eyes widened as he stumbled into her, nearly sending both of them falling on their asses. Bridget managed to stay upright, bracing against the blow and pushing him back to a stable position.

“Sorry,” Troy mumbled. He actually looked embarrassed.

“It’s okay,” Bridget replied. “Better you knocking into me and making us eat shit than me knocking into you. Humiliation doesn’t look good on me.”

It must be a special occasion. Troy only saved his DEFCON 3 level glare for those- brow almost a perfect V, hazel eyes alight with irritation, as close to actual anger as he could get before it slipped from DEFCON 3 to 2. No matter what happened the rest of the night, she would consider it a success from this alone.

The music dwindled to a close, saving her from any retaliation Troy might have planned. Bridget pulled away and curtsied politely, offering him a sly smile before turning and heading back to their table. There was a brief pause, then the click of dress shoes on expensive wood let her know he was following along.

A familiar silence drifted in again as they sat back down, but her earlier slip of the tongue weighed down any of her attempts to break it. She hadn’t meant to mention Julius, but here he was; his name hung in the air between them, swirling around amid the other topics they avoided in the name of civility. Julius, the Saints, the boat and the coma, everything that came after and everything that came before- an elephant in the room she couldn’t ignore much longer.

So she chose not to.

“Do you ever think about that night?” Bridget murmured, then caught herself. “I mean- that night in the alleyway. Where this all began.”

For a moment, she couldn’t read his face. Then Troy lifted his head from where he was catching his breath- she kept telling him to cut back on the cigarettes, Christ- mouth tilted up in a smirk but eyes still watching her carefully. “The Saints started long before you joined, Summers,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Narcissist.”

“Porn ‘Stashe,” Bridget shot back. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

He kept his gaze steady, eyes locked onto hers. “Question for a question. Do you?”

“I do,” Bridget replied. “I think about a lot of things from those days.”

Troy was silent for a minute, eyes dropping to where he was fiddling with his gloves. “...I do too,” he admitted.

Bridget’s eyebrows raised. “Care to share what you’re thinking about with the class?”

Troy’s fiddling stopped, and he looked back up at her. “Hey, now,” he said, holding up a hand. “I’m not gonna lay bare everything for free, you know. Tell you what. I share something, you share something. It’d be nice to know what you were thinking back then. You weren’t exactly an open book.”

Bridget contemplated this for a moment, making a show of rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm. All right, Bradshaw. I accept those terms. But start at the beginning. My beginning,” she specified, cutting off Troy’s interjection before it could come out.

Troy had a twinkle of mischief in his eye. She’d never trusted that look. “What should I start off with, your boy band haircut or that you looked like you were about to piss your pants when we pulled you off the sidewalk?” he teased.

“Neither. Unless you want your shitty facial hair shaved off and put on display in Purgatory?”

“Hey, no need to get touchy.”

#writers writes things #saints row #oc: bridget summers #troy bradshaw #fic: NIABT

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