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ghostbustermelanieking · 3 years

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67 for the kiss prompts 👀

of course it's another safehouse fic! warning for some self-loathing on the parts of jon and martin.

67. When One Stops The Kiss To Whisper “I’m Sorry, Are You Sure You-” And They Answer By Kissing Them More.

Jon's on the phone with Basira in the other room. Martin can hear the rise and fall of his voice through the walls. He halfway wishes he'd said yes to Jon's offer to put her on speaker—he wants to know how bad it is. Wants to know exactly how badly he fucked up when he followed Peter into those tunnels (in more than just the obvious ways).

Jon's said it wasn't his fault. Said that this morning, over the eggs he'd scrambled on a whim that were going cold on Martin's plate, covering Martin's hand with his: "It wasn't your fault, Martin. It wasn't. I-it wasn't even just the Not-Sasha, it… Trevor and Julia…" And then he'd stopped, a pained expression on his face, and Martin knew he wasn't the only one feeling guilty for everything that happened at the Panopticon the day before.

The reality of Jon being here is still so new, so strange, after not talking for months, for a year, what with the coma, and the Lonely… Martin doesn't think he ever even had Jon to his flat before this; he thinks he suggested it once, after a drink one night, if Jon wanted to come back and have some tea, and Jon had politely said no, thank you, with a look in his eyes that made Martin think maybe he was thinking about all the kidnappings. So, yes, this is the first time Jon's ever been here. After months of silence, months of Martin talking himself out of going down the hall and talking to Jon, telling Jon how glad he was that he's alive, how sorry he was that he couldn't stay, how much he hated this, every bit of it… After it all, Jon came for him. Peter's dead, and there's no reason for them to stay away now.

It's a relief, beyond what Martin will ever be able to articulate, but it's still strange, after all this time. Waking up in his bed to find Jon lying on the other side, stiff and tentative under the covers. To find Jon in the kitchen after a shower, making eggs and tea. To have Jon halfway holding his hand. Even after everything—after that period before the Unknowing where they were really sort of friends… this is surreal in a way Martin can't really explain.

Jon had actually held his hand all the way out of the Lonely, all the way back to his flat. Had reached for it over the expanse of Martin's mattress and held on. Martin doesn't remember him letting go. He doesn't remember ever wanting him to. It's a good surreal, he thinks. It's good.

Jon comes out of the kitchen, now, his hand clutched around his phone, his face grim. Martin startles a little, his hands clenching together in his lap. "H-how was it?" he says. "Is it… d-do they have any sign of…" (Basira had filled them in on Daisy last night.)

"No, no, no sign." Jon sighs a little. Sits down on the couch beside Martin, so close their knees bump together. He doesn't meet Martin's eyes.

Martin feels a habitual lump of worry rise in his throat. "You can tell me, Jon," he says, in case Jon is trying to shield him somehow. "It's… it's bad, isn't it?"

"I… yeah. Yeah, it's not good." Jon looks at him finally, his expression suggesting that’s all he’s going to say, like he’s going to try and protect Martin no matter what Martin says. “Basira… Basira says they’ll blame me,” he adds. “Again. She says they were already asking questions, they… sh-she said they’ll be looking for me again.”

" What? " Martin's aware his voice sounds insulted, and he is, on Jon's behalf, framed again for murders he didn't commit. (Well. Jon did kill Peter, but. Martin's not mourning that, not at all, he deserved it, and Peter isolated himself enough that the police shouldn't be looking for him. And the thought of Jon being blamed again for something he didn't even do…) "You didn't do anything, h-how can they blame you?"

Jon laughs a little, quiet bitterness in there. "It's easy. A-and it is my fault, sort of. I'm the one who antagonized Julia and Trevor. I'm the one who… who kept that stupid table, and then destroyed it and let that thing out. I'm the one who…" He stops. Winces, shakes his head a little. "I-it doesn't matter," he says. "Basira's sure they'll blame me. She says I need to get out of London."

Martin latches onto that, his heart leaping in his throat. Maybe he has no right to be this concerned, considering he's holed himself up for months, ignoring Jon and working with Peter for a plan that didn't even do anything —but he can't help but panic at the idea of Jon leaving again, going somewhere else, somewhere where they can't keep him safe… Not that Jon isn't entirely self-sufficient, he's been fine all this time, he's saved Martin, and not that Martin's been doing a good job at all, considering everything, Jon came into the Lonely because of him and could've just as easily been lost, and it would've been his fault. But after everything… America, Ny-Alesund, the Unknowing, every time Jon went somewhere and Martin didn't, and something horrible happened, and Martin just…

He tries to force the panic out of his voice, tries to speak levelly when he says, "Leave… leave London? And go where? "

"Scotland, apparently. Daisy has a safehouse that she… that she obviously won't be doing, and Basira said…" Jon swallows hard, looks away. "Well, she said I should leave right away. She said she would bring me the key here, and I should leave on the next train."

"Oh," says Martin. A part of him is nearly shouting, Don't go, don't leave me here, but this is ridiculous, Jon has to go, and he can't ask… not after everything Jon's done… (But he doesn't want Jon to leave, he doesn't want to be alone again.) "I… y-yeah. Yeah, that's best," he says, because he can't, and he'd rather have Jon alive and somewhere else than arrested or dead, again, and his throat is closing up a little. "If they're looking for you, you should leave as soon as possible."

"Right," says Jon. "Right, a-and I would…" He's staring down at his hands, intently, like he's trying to find answers in the lines of his palms. Martin is thinking absently that he does that, too, and isn't it funny how many habits he and Jon share that he's never realized, when Jon looks up abruptly. He's got an expression that's almost shy on his face; he says, "I-I was wondering if you'd like to come with me."

They're quiet for a moment.. Martin's staring; he thinks he definitely might be staring. His mouth might be hanging open. Jon starts talking again, too fast and stammering and anxious: "O-obviously if you don't want to, th-there's no obligation, of course, i-it's just that I… well, I haven't seen you for such a long time, Martin, and w-we just started talking again, and I… I thought you might want t-to get out of here, maybe, the Institute, it's… and I don't want you to be alo—"

Martin kisses him. Leans forward, just like that, and abruptly kisses Jon, cutting him off mid-sentence. Jon makes a little sound, a punched-out gasp, and his hand moves up, resting suddenly against Martin's jaw.

It takes a moment for Martin to fully connect his actions— Jon just asked me to go to Scotland and You just kissed him —and he pulls away abruptly. "I-I'm sorry," he says wildly, thinking I should've asked, thinking Martin, you idiot, just because he followed you into the Lonely doesn't mean he wants to…

Jon's looking at him. His eyes are dark and wet and full of some emotion Martin can't place, and he's just looking at him. His hand is still on Martin's jaw, his fingers warm against Martin's chilly skin. Martin's eyes dart to the side—to Jon's fingers, his bitten nails, resting against Martin's cheek—and then back to Jon. "I'm sorry," he says again, and Jon shakes his head, just a little. Rubs a thumb over Martin's cheek.

The gesture is enough to make Martin want to break. Just shatter in a dozen little pieces inside. He's not sure what to say—his brain, wildly grasping, comes up with, "Are you sure you—" And Jon leans forward, just as abruptly as Martin did, and kisses him again. Kisses him gently, sweetly, with a sort of underlying desperation that sounds like it did in the Lonely last night. We need you. I need you. His hands are still on Martin's face.

Martin makes a little sound of shock. Fumbles up with shaking hands to cover Jon's hand with his, to grasp it gently and desperately (the way Jon is kissing him) and not let go. Not this time.

Jon's the one to pull away, first, just far enough to rest his forehead against Martin's. He laughs a little, nervous energy, and doesn't let go of Martin's hand. "You don't need to apologize, Martin, you…" He laughs again, quietly. "I'm very sure. I am. I've been wanting to do that for… quite a long time."

"Oh," Martin says faintly, his thumb tracing the line of Jon's palm. "You have?"

Jon nods, his forehead thunking lightly against Martin's with the motion. Martin chuckles. "Me… me, too."

"Oh," Jon says softly. He squeezes Martin's hand.

Martin looks down at their joined hands (on his knee, now), leaning into Jon a little. (Just a little.). "Yes," he says, and there is no tremble, no hint of hesitation in his voice. He's sure about this, maybe the surest he's been in a long time. "Yes, I'll go to Scotland with you."

#I WROTE FINALLY #tma fic #jonmartin #scottish safe house #the magnus archives #i wrote this

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asterlark · 3 years

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ok. samwell college of music au. i wrote all four years let's go babey

eric bittle is this lovely southern tenor (sounds kinda like mitch grassi or ben j pierce) who posts covers (& sometimes originals, but always with neutral or no pronouns because he can't post anything that says he or him ☹) on his youtube channel and has major stage fright but is very talented; he also plays ukulele

he got into samwell college of music on a voice scholarship and his dad doesn’t exactly approve but eric was never the 6′2″ masculine football player he wanted anyway so why not go for his dreams

he auditions for the very competitive samwell men’s contemporary chorus (there’s like 20 choirs; chamber choir, jazz choir, a cappella groups (lax bros do a cappella), combined choirs, etc- smcc does contemporary pop/rock music) and while he’s very very nervous and shaky as he auditions, directors hall & murray see a lot of potential in him (with major grumbling from student director jack)

(the rest of this ridiculously long au under the cut)

the group is small, for a chorus, because the point of the group is not a wall of sound but a focus on all of the very talented guys’ voices coming together in these gorgeous harmonies and basically they’re like one of the best choruses on campus and all the male singers want in

so there’s jack zimmermann, who of course eric knows because everyone knows who he is, he’s the son of bob and alicia zimmermann, both incredibly talented and famous musicians, and basically those genes were in his favor because he’s mega fucking talented

(jack was supposed to sign a recording contract to be in a band with his best friend kent parson when he was 17 but something happened between them and the pressure was too much and jack overdosed on something- there’s so many rumors no one knows what’s real- and kent signed solo in LA & went on to win grammys for his albums about a mysterious ex and jack disappeared for a few years to be a counselor at a music camp and reappears at samwell, knocking everyone’s socks off again like he’d never left, except with a renewed vigor and intenseness that freaks everyone out)

jack is a contemporary writing & production major, freaky talented and sings like a modern day frank sinatra, and he plays like 20 instruments and can read music like breathing air and writes songs like if he stopped he’d die; his music is folksy and mournful and he plays all the instruments on his tracks himself- guitar, piano, strings, drums- it sounds like a full band but nope. just jack. he’s intense

“we all get nicknames in this choir,” justin informs eric on his first day, “we’re those kinda guys.” so he’s bitty, which he finds vaguely offensive (bc he’s not that short!) but still cute, & the rest of the group is introduced to him:

“shitty” knight (voice like colyer) is a musical education major and an enigma of a singer with this awesome, earthy, raspy voice that’s really interesting to listen to and a very.... unique style & look; he writes cheesy but shockingly good raps about social justice topics and he will sing-lecture you if you’ve said something offensive (he also plays banjo)

justin “ransom” oluransi is a music business & management major with an angelic voice you can’t help but listen to; he’s sultry and has an incredible range and does runs like nobody’s business (with a voice like daniel caesar or leslie odom jr UGH)

adam “holster” birkholtz is a voice performance major, wants to be on broadway and it’s all he ever goddamn talks about basically, he’s a belter and has a lot of charisma and starpower and he’ll charm the pants off of you within one note; can also play piano and irritates everyone constantly because his regular volume is like a level 11 (voice like the frontman of my brothers and i combined w/ x ambassadors lead singer)

larissa “lardo” duan is at the local art institute because performing arts is not her jam and she’d much rather paint; she’s a barista at annie’s and supervises open mic nights and keeps the annoying choir dudes from driving away all her patrons

“i’m not even in your dumbass choir,” she says when the group gave her her nickname. holster just told her that she was an honorary member and then started sing-shouting a song at her about how good she is

bitty’s first year is hard because he’s talented and he works hard but he shies away when anyone asks him to sing outside the group and like, he can sing to a camera by himself but being on a stage with everyone looking at you and the sole responsibility of the song on your shoulders is terrifying and no thanks

jack does not. understand this. he’s been performing practically since he came out of the womb and he doesn’t really get performance nerves (what he gets is anxiety about how he did after he gets off stage that follows him home and makes it so he can’t sleep) - so he bothers bitty about it constantly like “you just need practice, you just have to sing by yourself a lot and then you’ll get over it” which like.... that’s true but it’s also hella scary and bitty’s like “no thanks!!!!”

but jack’s annoying and intense so he makes bitty do open mic with him every saturday night and it’s going okay and bitty loves his choir and loves his school and these new friends he’s making and he finally feels comfortable enough to come out to them during his second term

then during their spring choral showcase at the end of his freshman year bitty has a solo and he’s worked really hard on it and he’s feeling good- okay he’s completely freaked out but he’s trying to feel good- but when he gets up on stage there’s so many people and the stage lights are so hot on his face and he flips out a little and maybe he passes out from anxiety and stress right on stage and it’s terrible and he’s so embarrassed and ashamed that he ruined their set at the showcase

of course jack blames himself because “we shouldn’t have given you a solo before you were ready, i misjudged it, i’m sorry” - and they all feel kinda bad bc holy fuck they didn’t know his stage fright was that bad like they didn’t know someone could pass out just by being anxious to sing

he practices all the time over the summer and goes to his local open mic at jack’s insistence and it actually helps a lot because instead of a sea of strangers judging him it’s a bunch of people he knows and they’re all smiling at him and when he finishes his song they cheer for him and it boosts his self-confidence a lot

his sophomore year they have three new members- chris ”chowder” chow (voice like ieuan), an excitable music education major with impressive rapping skills, derek "nursey" nurse (frank ocean or leon bridges type), a songwriting major who can also play violin and guitar, and will ”dex” poindexter (like tom west), a production & engineering major who tried out with chowder bc he needed moral support and didn't expect to get in but impressed the directors with his voice

the year’s going pretty good, bitty’s still pretty scared of singing alone but more confident now and the open mic nights with jack haven’t stopped, so he’s getting better. and one night they’re hanging out at annie’s after closing waiting for lardo to be done so they can walk her home, and bitty suggests that jack sing with him one of these nights, and jack says he doesn’t know any of bitty’s songs and bitty says they can write one together half jokingly but then jack is like “yes.” with that Intense Look

SO they get together a couple days later in jack’s room at the house they all live in together (bitty moved in at the beginning of the year after previous smcc member john johnson called him- how’d he get his number?- and told him he could take his room if he wanted), jack with his guitar and bitty with his ukulele, and it’s a little awkward until bitty says jack should play him one of his songs

and, okay, he doesn’t really know what to expect because the only music jack ever released to the public was that one single he did with kent parson when they were 17 so bitty doesn’t even know if he has anything to play him, but he does- he starts playing these soft, sad notes on the guitar and opens his mouth and sings about being lonely and scared and unsure, about false starts and shaky ground and not knowing where you stand with someone, about expectations and lying awake at night and wishing so hard you were someone else, and bitty watches him sing and just kind of... realizes he’s head over heels for this boy and internally Freaks Out a little

he tries to put that aside and they start to write this song, at first it’s weird because jack’s like “all your songs are love songs i can’t really relate to happy love songs” and bitty’s like “listen... i’ve never even had a boyfriend i just write a bunch of sappy love stuff because it’s not about me it’s about whoever’s listening to it, they’re gonna project their own experiences on my music anyway so it doesn’t matter if it’s my real life or not” and jack’s like “alright while fake af that’s smart and i respect you” (what bitty doesn't say is that he writes about what he really wants which is to fall in love & be in a happy relationship)

they say they’re just gonna write this kinda vague sad song but they both secretly write lines about their actual lives so it ends up being really personal and real and raw for the both of them

they sing the song at open mic that saturday and the crowd at annie’s is never that big but they’ve never got a standing ovation here before, and some girl shouts “MAKE AN ALBUM” (it may or may not be lardo) and they both blush furiously and bitty’s like “... that was really nice, jack” and jack’s like “... yeah it was good good job you’re really getting some confidence out there nice work” (bitty: “THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT AAAAH”)

around this time jack’s really thinking about what he’s gonna do when he’s done at samwell, talking with his parents and his agent and looking into different record companies and deciding if he wants to sign with anyone or possibly start his own company- the head of a small company called falcon records in rhode island has been talking to him a lot, and jack talks to bitty about how he thinks it’d be nice to start small, and the record exec georgia and the producer marty had both been really nice and welcoming, and bitty’s so happy for him but also just... sad that he won’t be around jack every day after he graduates

THEN at a haus party celebrating their win of a local choral competition, who shows up but none other than pop star kent parson to Ruin The Fun

bitty sees the way jack pales when kent walks in, notices them disappear upstairs together and feels a little sick worrying about jack but chalks it up to the highly alcoholic concoction shitty and lardo had cooked up but nonetheless decides he’s sick of the party and goes up to his room and hears.... a little too much

and YIKES he’s standing right there and kent parson, pop star, two-time grammy winner, is looking a little rumpled and staring right at him and he puts his hat on and clears his throat and snaps at jack- “hey. well. call me if you reconsider. but good luck with rhode island. ...i’m sure that’ll make your parents proud.” and jack’s shaking, and bitty doesn’t know what to do but jack goes back into his room and bitty’s just kind of standing there like What The Fuck

so.... he kind of stews over winter break but tries not to think about it too much and he and jack text a bit and jack tells him to practice and bitty’s like “oh, you” and jack’s like “im serious” and bitty’s like “>:( it’s christmas”

spring semester starts and they're doing well in competitions and they go to semifinals and then finals for a prestigious collegiate choir competition and the pressure is mounting but they all are so optimistic and really feel like they're on the same page and bitty’s confidence is better than ever and then.... they don't win

jack especially takes it very hard, but then he also has signing to worry about, which everyone helps him with and he decides to sign with falcon records and start work on an album after graduation

speaking of graduation, shitty and jack graduate and it's hard for them but harder for bitty who feels like he's losing jack in a way, he knows how intense jack gets when he's making music and it doesn't feel like he'll have any time for bitty anymore so when they say goodbye bitty goes back to the haus and listens to his and jack's song and just cries

but, like in canon, dadbob has words of wisdom to impart and jack has an "oh" moment and races across campus to kiss bitty

they get together and the next few months are spent with jack working nonstop on his album (which tbh, he'd had many of the songs written already so it's mostly recording and producing) and texting bitty constantly and coming to visit him and playing him demos of all the songs

jack also asks bitty if they can record the song they wrote together & have it as a bonus track on his album & bitty says of course, so when jack visits they set up an impromptu studio and record vocals in the guest bedroom and this deeply personal song they wrote before they were ever together means so much more to them now

and bitty is so happy but so scared and sad too because jack is playing him these songs telling him "they're all for you bits, & a lot of them are about you" and he just doesn't know how he's going to keep all this love inside even though it feels like jack's career is at stake

he tries to shove it down and stay strong though, especially since he's now an upperclassman and they're taking on new members- connor "whiskey" whisk (voice like finneas or the male singer in valley), a music business/ management major who seems to hate bitty's guts and tony "tango" tangredi (like chaz cardigan), a jazz composition major who astounds everybody with his endless questions but also his ridiculously impressive composition skills & naturally perfect pitch (he can also play saxophone??)

i want ford in this au so fuck it she is a composition major with dreams to write scores for musicals and she stars training as a barista at annie's (aka training to corral the smcc)

the pressure of it all proves to be a lot and bitty and jack have their hi, honey moment where bitty's like i can't be this deep in the closet!!! and so they tell the smcc and also jack's label that they're together and that eases things a bit

jack's album comes out to much critical acclaim and shouting in the groupchat ("#1 ON ITUNES BRAHHHHH!!!!!!!!") and several months later, when smcc has already been eliminated from choral competition in an earlier round, jack is nominated for SEVERAL grammys including best album, song of the year, and best new artist

when the time comes he takes his parents and bitty on the red carpet which, everyone keeps being like "who are you here with jack?" and he's like "my family and my good friend :)" and yes it is awkward

jack wins... all three awards. it's the comeback everyone is stoked to see and when his third win is announced, he and bitty are so elated that they kiss before he goes to accept the award

his speech is basically just "um... wow. thank you. i just kissed my boyfriend on live tv. this is amazing and i'm so humbled. i'd like to thank my boyfriend and georgia and marty and my parents and my friends and my boyfriend"

obviously the press has a FIELD DAY with this but bitty & jack are honestly vibing and so happy that it doesn't matter untiiiillll bitty's mom calls and he has to tell her "mama i'm gay and i'm going on tour with jack this summer okloveyoubye"

the last few months of bitty's junior year pass quickly and he's voted student director which is a huge honor considering how much he struggled with stage fright and confidence & how he'll now be stepping into ransom & holster's shoes

r&h and lardo all graduate (the smcc basically crashes the art school graduation and all scream when lardo gets her diploma lmao), which is a bittersweet occasion and they all do a bit of tearing up

that summer bitty goes on tour across the u.s. & canada with jack and his touring band (snowy is a bassist, tater is a drummer and poots does backing guitar, he also brings nursey to play violin on a few songs) as well as georgia who's there to manage logistics

and tour is so fun & chaotic with many bi and rainbow flags in the audience that end up thrown on stage and draped around jack's neck and they spend so many nights in the bus drinking and laughing and fooling around on the guitars and bitty's uke and exploring new cities bitty has never been to before and it's the freest bitty has felt in a long time

summer ends though, and jack leaves for the uk/europe leg of the tour, and with the new school year brings a few new members- river "bully" bullard (voice like gregory alan isakov), a music therapy major who draws his own cover art for his songs, lukas "louis" landmann (like jr jr), an electronic production and design major with a penchant for EDM, and johnathan "hops" hopper (like keiynan lonsdale), a film scoring major who wants to write music for movies and video games

bitty meets and befriends some of the other student directors- shruti, sd of the women’s contemporary chorus; sharon, sd of the chamber choir; and edgar, sd of jazz ensemble (even chad l., sd of the all-male a cappella group)

senior year passes similarly to the comic; coach visits and sees one of bitty’s competitions, jack comes to madison for christmas, smcc does well in competition and goes to regionals etc

however… bitty keeps putting off and putting off gathering the songs for his senior recital

he has a hard time doing that because he’s so focused on the group and making sure they’re performing well and as they advance in competition, everything else starts to fall away

eventually the rest of the smcc has to lock away his uke and change his youtube password and FORCE him to choose songs for it and start preparing because he cannot graduate without doing this recital and doing well on it

he chooses (of course) a beyonce song, a few of his own songs, an ellie goulding song, and an adele song

with all that his breath hitches and his hands shake before he goes on stage, he does really well and his voice instructor prof atley tears up a little in the audience as does his mom

meanwhile smcc goes to semifinals, then finals, of the national collegiate choral competition they participate in

and i imagine bitty faces somewhat less homophobia in this au because i mean, he’s in the performing arts, but i think it’s still there and he also faces a good amount of classism from richer students and performers who think they’re better because they had the resources and money to be performing professionally from a very young age, and he has been practicing via filming himself on a shitty camcorder and posting it to youtube

but they still get there! and the national finals are fucking HUGE and a big deal and a little overwhelming

bitty’s stage fright is Present because this is the biggest stage and the biggest stakes he's ever had and he has a big solo in one of their songs so if he fucks up, he fucks up a national championship for his whole group and school

luckily though, when he steps on the stage with his best friends and sees his boyfriend and family and smcc alums in the audience and they perform their first song, a high-energy pop medley that always gets the crowd going, everything seems to melt away and it's just him living in this moment and singing his heart out

when it gets to the next song and his solo, he forgets to be nervous and belts it out, getting screams of approval from the audience when he finishes

(dex and nursey do have a duet together that they had to practice for many long nights in the practice rooms alone but that's neither here nor there)

their time on stage seems to last both hours and no time at all and then they're done, the crowd gives them a standing ovation and it's at least 30% r&h & shitty's hooting and hollering and jack's enthusiastic clapping that makes bitty & the others beam with pride

then it's just waiting, giddy and nervous beyond belief in their green room, for the judging to be over

after what feels like forever they're back on stage, arms linked together waiting and hoping for their name to be called and it is, they win and it feels like years have built up to this moment, and bitty tears up because years ago when he was fainting from anxiety at having to perform in front of people he never could've imagined that he'd do this, that he'd be the student director that led them to a championship

they get the trophy and a ridiculous amount of flowers from their loved ones and they all are just in giddy disbelief that this is happening, they're national champs!!! they are the best choir boys in the nation!!

they come home and the rest of the school year passes by so quickly that it's very suddenly graduation and bitty can't believe his college career at samwell is over 😢

(he and ollie and wicky take pictures together, o&w talk about how excited they are to devote full time attention to their band & wedding planning and bitty's just like wait you're gay??)

bitty got plenty of offers from record companies but he likes his freedom of creativity and he has a built in fanbase from doing youtube all these years so he decides to make an album independently (jack helps him produce & master it 🥰)

when bitty's album comes out about a year later, full of bops about being gay and in love and having struggled but come out the other side more confident than ever, it doesn't get any grammy nominations- and he didn't expect or need that.

what it does do is it resonates. it makes the rounds in youtube and queer internet circles; people his age reach out to him saying this is the music they wish they had as a kid and kids reach out to him saying he's a role model and they're so glad to have his music to listen to. his album is written about as an underrated gem that shines with queer brilliance and is sure to start a party when it comes on.

his parents may not fully understand the road he's chosen for himself but they're still so proud and promote the album as hard as any of his loyal fans (especially the one country-inspired song on the album that he wrote and dedicated to them).

and jack, jack who saw this album from its infancy to its release date, who took the film photo that ended up being the album cover, who worked with bitty to make sure his vision was realized exactly how he wanted it to be, is proud beyond words.

jack starts using his semi-abandoned twitter again to tweet "stream [album name]" every day and bitty retweets them sometimes, with just a "this boy. ❤"

and they're happy. they're good. they have come so far and they are reaping the rewards of all the hard work they put in to make the music that they truly love.

the end :)

#check please #omgcp #samwell college of music au #mine #my writing #eric bittle #jack zimmermann #omgcp fic #check please fic #zimbits #uhh idk what else to tag #this fucking thing is like 4.1k words i'm-#i hope you enjoy it (and reblog it!) bc i've been working on this for literal years #i know i'll never actually write it as a longform fic so here's a bullet pt fic instead #pls let me know your thoughts i have so many things to say about this au

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mrslilyrogers · 3 years

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All I Have To Do Is Dream

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Telepath! Reader (X-men reader)

Summary: It’s been five years since the snap. You and Steve are stuck at an impasse. You want a family, he doesn’t. He says he’s moved on but has he really? With your doubts growing, you consider risking his trust and use your powers on him to get your answers once and for all.

Author’s note: I know I’ve been gone for so long, I’m sorry!! I loved these requests and decided to merge them together. Took a while to write, I haven’t had much inspiration. I’ll keep this short and hope you enjoy this!! Let me know what you think!

Requests: hi!! first of all i adore your writing (esp. betrayal)!! id willingly chop two of my limbs in exchange of ur writing skills hahah!! can you maybe write a oneshot similar to take my breath away, and the reader and steve are dating, but they’re actually in steve’s dream(like in age of ultron) and she is sad that steve’s still hasn’t moved on from peggy?? and can you make it extra angsty?? sorry if this is too much hehe!! thanks btw :))

Hmmm maybe angst w/ Steve or Bucky where a misunderstanding/bad fight leads to the reader leaving the team?

“Damn it, Steve! Would you just listen? Where the hell are you even going?” your voice boomed around your small apartment as you breathed harshly, trying your best not to pull your hair out of frustration.

At first, it had all been just petty disagreements, you and Steve letting off some steam after the snap happened. You had thought it was normal at the time, a coping mechanism that needed to be flushed out of your systems never expecting that it would last for as long as it has. Five freakin’ years. By now, you would’ve thought you’d realize how lucky you were to still be alive, to still be together while others couldn’t say the same. And yet...

“Geez, Y/N. I am! For the past 30 minutes! And I’m telling you now what I’ve told you from the start, I am not ready! You gotta give me more time, doll.” He replied, his voice just a tad calmer than yours but you didn’t miss the tick in his jaw as he walked out of your shared room, shrugging into his jacket. You knew his anger was just brewing inside, ready to attack if you pushed just a little bit harder. After countless back-and-forths, this had become a routine between the two of you with Steve always taking the role of the aggrieved party, ending arguments with an exasperated sigh and a roll of his eyes before he walked away, deciding he had something better to do with his precious time than fight with you. While you, on the other hand, always found that more infuriating, making you impatient and mean, baiting and nagging him until you wouldn’t even recognize the shrill and whine to your own voice.

“And when would that even be? It’s been five years since the snap. When will—”

“Don’t you dare bring that up!” his voice rose, eyes glaring at you as he whirled around, his jaw clenched. “Don’t use that excuse on me, you know damned well I know it. Why do you think I chose to move on and be with you instead of helping Nat bring them all back, hmm?” He continued mockingly as if you were stupid enough not to understand.

This was it, what all your petty arguments had narrowed down into;

Despite what he said, he still wasn’t ready to settle down.

“But what the hell are we doing now, Steve? We’re not getting any younger! I want to have kids, a family, with you!” You knew you sounded pathetic, and desperate all at the same time but you couldn’t help but continue, the pretty picture already clouding your brain,

“Can’t you see it? Having children of our own, their drawings hung up on the walls, the dog you’ve been wanting to have since forever running around the house, family barbecues...” your voice trailed off, a lump forming in your throat, your eyes glazing over with unshed tears. It was all within your grasp, so easily reachable if only Steve agreed with you. If only he wanted it too. Anger bubbled up to the surface while he bristled, looking annoyed.

“We can have all of that, you know. What are you even waiting for? Will you ever be ready? Because it really feels like you won’t and I’m the only one who actually wants this,” You were unrelenting, thinking of Tony Stark’s family, how they had gone off the grid and had their own little piece of heaven. Crossing your arms, you knew you wouldn’t achieve anything by becoming a nag but your patience was already wearing thin.

“Jesus, Y/N! Why would you even say that? Of course I want a family with you! I’m just not ready for that yet! Just give me more time,”

Shaking your head, you let out a defeated sigh and looked away from him. You could hear him grabbing the keys from the counter, exhaling loudly before he went up to you and ran his hands down your arms soothingly, willing you to understand. When you didn’t budge, he just pleaded as he always had,

“I love you, you know I love you. But I need to get to this meeting, those people need me, Y/N. Could we please just talk about this later?” He moved his head lower to meet your eyes and even in your state of anger, you knew you couldn’t say no to that. He took your begrudged nod as an assent, kissing your forehead before he turned to leave. What else were you going to say anyway? He was going to lead a therapy session for people who had lost their loved ones. Guilt ate at you for keeping him here when he so desperately wanted to save the world. People needed him too, not just you. They hung on his every word. They needed their Captain America, their symbol of hope. While, here you were, acting like a child because he wouldn’t let you have your way.

Letting out another sigh, your gaze stuck to the floor, berating yourself at how selfish you’d become. You knew what you were getting into when you dated him. You had no illusions of being the center of his universe, it was always going to be the people. But still, it would’ve been nice to be put first for once. You hated the tandem feelings of jealousy and guilt that always crept up on you after your fights. You just wished he understood that while those people needed their hero, you needed your Steve too. But as time passed, it seemed like the man and the hero were indistinguishable and you’d been deluding yourself into thinking it could be different. You’d just have to accept that too because living without him wouldn’t even be an option.

He paused by the door, catching sight of your slumped shoulders. “Hey,” he said softly, striding back to you.

“You know I love you, right?” he stroked your cheeks and you couldn’t help the turn of your lips. Nodding slowly, you rolled your eyes at how easy you were for him.

“I know. I’m sorry,”

Ducking down to give you a quick peck on the lips, he reassured you again, “We’ll talk about this later, I promise,” then he gave you one last kiss to your forehead before he disappeared. But what once would’ve eased your worries did nothing to quell your nerves now. Your heart believed everything was alright but your gut said otherwise.

_______________

He looked down at the worn, brassy compass in his palm, his mind years away from where he was, unaware that you were standing by the door. You watched his shoulders relax into a defeated sigh, his eyes never leaving her picture. You couldn’t remember when he ever looked at you like that, all the love and longing etched on his face. He brought his other hand up to caress the picture gently, as if he actually imagined she was with him, a small, sad smile forming on his lips. You felt the air knock right out of you while you scrambled out of there feeling as if you’ve intruded on an intimate moment. You couldn’t help the tears falling from your eyes while you convinced yourself it was nothing. He had just lost his best friends, she was a symbol of his past. He just missed that right?

You paced around the kitchen, your mind running back to the times you’ve caught him staring at Peggy’s picture. All those times you pretended you didn’t notice how frequently he had been doing it these past few years. His voice, an echo in your head,

“I’m not ready, just give me more time doll, please,”

Closing your eyes, you buried your face in your hands. Oh, it would be so easy, you thought. All you had to do was get into his mind and see for yourself. One little, fast trip into his thoughts and you’d get your answers. He’d be none the wiser, no one need ever know except you. And your dignity, and your pride and your principles. Ugh.

He trusted you, you promised never to use your powers on him and yet, that was all you could ever think about now. Did he think of her when he thought of the family he wanted? Was it her face he saw, walking down the aisle to him?

For the first time in your life, you hated your upbringing at the Xavier Institute. You hated the values and principles they instilled in you, the very reason you were adamant not to use your powers on the unwilling and unsuspecting for your own personal gain even though you were going crazy, craving for your own peace of mind. Deep down you knew, promise to Steve or no, you couldn’t go through with it.

You looked at the clock, thirty minutes to go before his meeting ended. Grabbing your coat from the rack, you impulsively decided to go to him, promising yourself you weren’t going to nag and argue with him but have a normal conversation like you used to. You haven’t had a date in a long while anyway. Maybe a little spark of romance was all you really needed.

_____________

Your steps echoed on the linoleum floor, walking past the empty hall to follow the directions to the room where the meeting took place. Rubbing your palms together, you spotted the room. The fluorescent lights hanging above casting a lonely pallor to the already gray walls while the rain poured heavily outside. The gloom, an inevitable reminder of what the world has become. It seemed everywhere people went, there was always a reminder of what they’ve lost. Even on an otherwise unblemished sunny day, the vibrancy was not the same, people were scarce and it was quiet. Too quiet. Which was why you were so adamant to continue on living, in order to honor the lives of the people you’ve lost.

You could hear their faint voices outside the room. Your heart going out to those poor people who still held onto the past while you thanked your lucky stars you still had Steve.You fished for your earphones in your purse trying not to eavesdrop but his clear and deep voice interrupted you. Leaning against the wall opposite the door, you listened, a smile tugging on your lips while he commended the other person. He was always so good with words, always knew the right things to say and that never failed to make you proud. His words of encouragement lifted your spirits, making you stand a little taller, hope blossoming in the pit of your stomach. He talked about moving on, about finding purpose again.

“I went in the ice in ‘45 right after I met the love of my life,”

Your whole body went cold, the smile on your lips faltering, your hands suddenly gripping the edge of your blouse while his disheartened voice continued to try to reassure everyone including himself,

“I woke up 70 years later, you gotta move on. You gotta move on,”

With a hand to your lips, you ran, your rapid, staccato steps filling the hall barely even muffling the sobs you desperately tried to hide.

___________

Steve didn’t bother coming home straightaway after the meeting. He told himself it was because he needed to check up on Nat despite the fact that he could’ve easily just called, despite knowing you were all supposed to meet for dinner in a few days anyway. He took his time getting to the Avengers Compound, embracing the uncharacteristic quietness of the city, giving him the chance to be alone with his thoughts. If he were being honest with himself, he couldn’t shake off the guilt that settled at the pit of his stomach at the thought of Peggy. The love of his life. Apparently, anyway. He had no idea where that came from, never really thought of it until it slipped from his mouth. And did he really feel that way? Was she really the love of his life?

The thought of you came unbidden from his mind, your warm smile waking him up in the morning, your laughter setting the world to rights whenever he was feeling especially out of place. You’ve been through so much together, what you both had was real and it was beyond anything he could’ve imagined when he woke up from the ice and he knew he should take it a step further. He loves you, he is fully committed to you. There was nothing holding him back and yet… and yet, he still thought of her. He couldn’t help but think that if he had only stayed where he really was supposed to be, Peggy would’ve been the mother to his children, she would’ve been his wife. She would’ve been his life’s true love. But the very thought of that put a sour taste to his mouth, the truth was he could never picture his life without you. As much as he still dreamt of the past, how could it be the same if you weren’t there?

At first he thought falling in love with you was a balm to soothe his lost soul until he eventually realized you had crept up on him slowly but in a span of a heartbeat, wormed your way into his heart so suddenly he couldn’t even pinpoint the exact moment he knew he loved you. It was plain and simple, he knew it as he knew the sun rose in the east, he loved you. It was so unlike the way he fell for Peggy where all it took was one look and he was already drunk in love.

Was it possible then, to be in love with two women?

________________________________________

You were already in bed when Steve got home, feigning tiredness from the day when your heart was really beating rapidly in your chest. How could you face him now knowing you were second best? You could hear him in the bathroom, oblivious to your inner turmoil. When he was done, he gave you a quick kiss goodnight and went to his side of the bed, his back to you. You turned to face the wide expanse of his shoulders and wondered where the hell do you go from here. Would you really be alright living in the shadow of his ex, one of the world’s most accomplished women, so extraordinary that Captain America couldn’t even move on from her? Could you really leave him if it came down to it?

A tear escaped the corner of your eye and you laid on your back, the darkness of the ceiling reflecting the heaviness in your heart. You must’ve stared at it for hours, wondering just how far away you were from the man right at your side. He was with you physically but his heart? You always knew deep down, it belonged to someone else. If he had a choice to go back, would he leave you? With the way things were going, you knew he would. In an instant. There was always a part of him that he closed off from you and ever since the snap, it only worsened. The fights, the distance, it all made sense now. Heck, even tonight, he didn’t even bother to ask how you were doing and accepted your lame excuse to get to bed early. It was the weekend, you literally had nothing to do the whole day and yet, it never even occurred to him that something could be wrong. For once, you were sorely tempted to use your powers on him. Hearing his even breathing as he slept didn’t make it any easier. It would be over before he knew it, what would be the harm in that?

As if on cue, he turned and faced you. His long lashes resting peacefully on his cheeks, his lips slightly parted, he looked like a man who didn’t carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He looked younger, more like your Steve. The Steve you wished would let you in and give you the family you’ve always wanted.

“Just a quick little trip, no one would ever know. What would be the harm in that?” the little voice in the back of your head taunted.

What would be the harm in that?

With your resolve weakening, you jumped right into the abyss, entering the mind of the man of your dreams, hoping you were his too.

______

The sun shone brightly through the open window, letting in the warm summer breeze while his favorite vinyl record played in the background.

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It’s been a long long time

The air was crisp and the smell of pancakes and cinnamon wafted from the doorway of the kitchen into the living room of the small, suburban house. The yellow walls were adorned with children’s drawings with a few marker drawings on the wallpaper here and there. The faint sound of giggling could just be heard from where you stood by the stairs. Your children, you thought to yourself, a smile creeping up your lips. This was it. This was what you’ve been picturing too, what you’ve told him countless times over and over again. He dreamed of it too. You turned your attention to the living room, your heart giving a little leap at the mess. It looked like someone had tried to tidy up but gave up on the last minute, some toys still scattered about. You noticed the pet bed by the couch, and you couldn’t help but be excited and hopeful, it was everything you thought of down to a T. You went towards the paper and crayons on the low table between the couch and the fireplace, inspecting one of the children’s current drawings there. It was of a family, their hands holding each other while they smiled in front of the house, a little dog at their father’s side. At the bottom, a scribbly handwriting of a preschooler wrote; Mom, Sarah, James, Dad and directly below the dog, Sam. You laughed aloud at that, clutching the drawing, hoping you could keep it for yourself and willing it into existence.

“Come on, dance with me,”

You heard Steve’s playful voice coming from the kitchen. A woman’s laughter rang out, you could just imagine yourself shaking your head at him in response, but something about the woman’s laugh caught you in your tracks. A little too shrill, a little too melodic. You inched closer to the open door, your heart dropping to your stomach. There they were, the picture perfect couple. He twirled her around, her red dress hugging her curves so effortlessly, while she drew her head back and laughed. The dimples on her cheeks deepening, her curls staying in place even when Steve maneuvered her around. They looked so beautiful together, his golden locks and smitten smile never once leaving her face, he never looked so happy.

Not even when he was with you.

That realization hit you like a train. You couldn’t even remember the last time he looked at you the way he looked at Peggy now. When was the last time you danced? When was the last time you acted silly together? When was the last time you were both happy? That was what hurt the most. You couldn’t even remember. It felt like a weird sort of deja vu except now, it was an actual woman instead of a picture on a compass. You tried to gather your pride and step away but you couldn’t, you were rooted into place, a sadistic part of you welcomed the pain because you should’ve known.

“I went in the ice in ‘45 right after I met the love of my life,”

You should’ve known.

But instead, you choose to play the fool.

There must’ve been a shift in the air that only they understood because Steve gathered her in his arms now, their eyes locking into each other, gentle and longing.

You'll never know how many dreams

I dreamed about you

Or just how empty they all seemed without you

So kiss me once then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It's been a long, long time

He rocked her back and forth, bringing her hand up to his chest, turning into action what words fail to describe. She closed her eyes and laid her head on his heart, savoring their moment. He leaned his head on hers too, a satisfied smile on both their faces as they continued to sway to the music. You had never felt as small as you did now. You felt like a thief, intruding on their moment, stealing his dream away. And that’s exactly what you were doing. That’s exactly what you are. You felt so dirty, a desperate, pathetic fly on the wall he couldn’t get rid of. And worst of all, you destroyed his trust too.

As if on cue, the colors started to change, the song distorting and shifting and in this moment you knew, you had to leave.

You have to leave.

Part Two

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers #steve rogers fic #steggy #the avengers #marvel #captain america

1K notes · View notes

kenanda · 3 years

Note

For the smut prompt a lonelyeyes mix of 106, 111 and 127? If you want only.

This took a while, but it was just too good a prompt not to give it my best shot. I hope you enjoy it.

Happy belated birthday!! Consider this your gift from moi <3 🎁🎉

prompt 106. “Were you just masturbating?” “U-uh..no, i was just..” “Want some help?” prompt 111. “You have no idea how much I want you.” prompt 127. “Are you wearing my shirt?”

CRAVING Rating: EXPLICIT Words: 5,7k Pairing: LonelyEyes Characters: Elias Bouchard; Peter Lukas; Tim Stoker; Martin Blackwood; Gertrude Robinson (mention); Jurgen Leitner (mention). Tags: Established Relationship; Parenthood; Smut; PWP; Mutual Pining; Fluff; Sweet; Masturbating; Cock sucking; Handjobs; Scent Kink; Fingering; Anal Fingering; Anal Sex; Dirty Talk; Banter; Wearing the other's clothes; Doting Parents!LonelyEyes; unbeta'd; Tim and Martin are their kids AGAIN

Disclaimer: These characters AREN’T mine. They belong to Rusty Quill’s The Magnus Archives. Warning: This work ISN’T SUITABLE for minors. It’s a NSFW piece of slash fiction. Therefore, if you’re a minor or in any way squicked by what’s in the tags, DO NOT READ!

Filthy, FILTHY LonelyEyes below the cut, my beloved. It's official, this is now a Verse.

Ever since they became parents, Peter and Elias haven’t known what alone time is anymore. Life is a jolly mess most of the time, with all things required for the rearing of two children. Even if the boys are now a bit older and can shoulder small responsibilities, it still seems like too much is going on at once.

Some days are more hectic than others, which often sends the two men to bed at 10PM feeling like they could sleep for days. Work hasn’t been any better in allowing for a break — Peter’s schedule has him away for months every now and again, and Elias can hardly ever catch a break from the Institute (he’s the Head, after all).

Needless to say, it all takes a toll on their love life. They can count in one hand the number of times they’ve had a weekend for themselves in the past few years. When they want sex, it’s always rushed and quiet, afraid that one of the kids will wake up because of a nightmare and ask to sleep with them.

Elias misses the days when he and Peter would go on long dates and weekend trips; catches himself thinking about those every once in a while, of how they would spare a day to stay in their room talking and getting each other off. They aren’t that young and horny anymore, but there’s still enough of that old spark that Elias will sometimes get turned on merely watching Peter doing mundane stuff, like doing the dishes.

To think that they didn’t get along at first. Elias chuckles whenever he remembers the first time they were together. Peter had been a cocky bastard, but Elias had been cockier and given Peter one hell of a show. Elias still has the eye tattoo on his stomach, but he had removed the nipple piercings once he’d started working. Peter had been so impressed by them, he had played and pulled on them with his teeth once they actually went on a proper date.

Elias lets out a nostalgic sigh.

“Everything alright?” Peter asks over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Elias breathes. “Fine. Just reminiscing about stuff.”

“Such as…?” Peter rinses a bowl of oatmeal.

“That time you used to be more of an insufferable arse.”

Peter snorts. “You’re one to talk, love.”

Elias can’t help a smile. “We turned out alright. Sometimes though, I miss those days.”

Peter’s disbelief is visible even from his back. “Really!? We used to be swamped all the time, and there was that professor, Jonah- Wouldn’t leave you alone. I think he wanted to — what was it he used to say — see you.”

Elias shudders with a disgusted noise and gets up. He circles Peter’s waist and hooks a chin over his shoulder, pressing their bodies flush enough that there’s no mistaking that he’s half-hard. Peter drops a spoon in the sink with a clatter.

“Oh, wow, hello there.”

Elias giggles. “I miss you,” he whispers. He gives Peter’s nape a slow, open mouthed kiss, causing the larger man to shiver.

“Elias…”

“I know, I know.” Elias pauses, buries his nose into Peter's neck, where his silver hair has grown past his ear. He smells so good. “I could take a day off tomorrow. We could ask Gertie to keep an eye on the boys over the weekend. She’s always delighted to see them.”

After the beach incident in which they had met, Gertrude Robinson had become a dear friend of the family. She and her husband (an old scholar with a booming voice and a gentle face called Jurgen) had a massive library and a collection of items from all over the world. The boys always returned home with strange facts about books and places of which neither Peter or Elias had ever heard. Gertrude also had a grandchild a year older than Martin, Jon, whom Martin had (at the tender age of seven) sworn to marry.

Peter thinks about it for a moment, but doesn’t sound too hopeful in his reply. “They’ll need me at work tomorrow. I already said I’d be there, and it could take a while.”

“Can’t always have it all...”

Peter turns around and holds Elias’s face to give him a kiss. Elias struggles at first because Peter’s hands are covered in suds, but eventually gives in. The kiss is slow and warm; if he isn't careful, Elias can easily get carried away with it. Peter’s growing beard is ticklish, but when it slides down his jaw and neck, Elias has to stifle a whimper.

“I’m sorry, love.”

Elias shakes his head. “It’s fine. I’ll survive.”

That’s not to say Elias’s body will just quit the yearning — it becomes quite self-evident when Peter pulls away and Elias is half-tempted to chase his lips.

But then one of the kids calls him and he needs to go. It's like that the whole day.

Elias only gets some blessed alone time with his husband before bed. Peter pulls him into a hug and they kiss until they have to stop before it gets too hot to ignore. Elias grabs Peter’s hand when it slides between them, because one thing will certainly lead to another.

“Pretty please?” Peter pouts. It looks outrageous on him and Elias barks out a laugh.

Peter smiles, but it fades into something else — something charged. They are kissing again before they know it, and it’s insane how well Peter fits between his legs. The weight of his larger body on top of him, pressing down where it feels so good, has Elias wrapping both legs around his waist and using them for leverage. Peter hums in approval.

At least, Elias is not alone in his lust. Peter is usually quieter about his wants and needs, but once he’s into it, he’s ready to go all the way. Perhaps Elias should’ve been more careful, because now he has to live with the knowledge that Peter is right there and that he wants it just as bad as Elias.

They are humping through their clothes and Elias is ready to make a mess of his pants just like that when there’s a yell from down the hall. Elias’s head snaps up and he all but tosses Peter off of him to leap up and grab his robes.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

“Is it Martin again,” Peter rubs his eyes tiredly, pulling a pillow over his clothed erection.

“Coming! Daddy is coming!” Elias yells back.

Afterwards, they cuddle in shared frustration until they fall asleep. When Elias wakes up the next morning, Peter’s boner is poking his arse, so he gives it a wistful little press. Peter groans and holds Elias there with an arm around his waist. Peter grinds up and Elias huffs into the pillow.

“Wanna finish what we started?”

“Be late for work,” Elias points out. Peter swears, but lets him go.

They’re out an hour later; Elias drops the kids off and heads to work. Heavy clouds of sleep deprivation and sexual frustration hang ominously above his head.

Thankfully, work is something he can lose himself in. He’s good at what he does and there’s something soothing about all those Excel sheets. Coupled with the steady hum of the AC, they almost make Elias forget his troubles.

But then he sees the flyer for this new jazz café that had opened a few months ago, where he had intended to take Peter on a date but never managed to make time, and his face falls. Damn, he misses his husband’s presence, his silly jokes and ridiculous sailor stories.

Lunch hour comes in a blink; Elias is poking a fork into his salad with an utter lack of enthusiasm when his phone chirps with an incoming message. He wipes his mouth and sees that it’s from Peter.

It’s a picture of Peter standing in front of a tall restroom mirror. He’s wearing the big old ratty coat he’d left with this morning, but it’s pulled halfway to the side to reveal Peter’s hand clutching the sizable girth of him through his grey slacks.

Elias chokes on lettuce.

What’s the meaning of this???

Been thinking of you. A lot. — is Peter’s swift reply.

Well, Elias has too, but not to this extent. Can I call you?

Peter calls him instead. “Hey.”

“Are you mad!? I’m in the middle of work!”

Peter laughs. “You talk as if you don’t have a cushy office all to yourself to play as you wish.”

“Yes, at least I can say that. You on the other hand, you’ve got a bloody crew swarming you every day.”

“I’m not on the ship right now. And there are stalls here.”

“You’re hiding in the loo?!”

“Had to. Wouldn’t stop thinking of you. Now, do you want to play?”

“You can’t be doing what I think you’re doing. What if someone comes in?”

There’s something hot and heavy about Peter's chuckle that makes Elias shudder. “A while ago, you’d be the first to say fuck it.”

“Well, apparently one of us has grown past that.”

“I bet you wouldn’t refuse if you could see how hard I am right now.”

It’s a bait. Elias knows it’s a cheap bait and that he’s gonna fall straight for it if he isn't careful. When he reaches down, he notices that he’s hard too. Shit.

“I’m not gonna do this. Bloody hell, not in the middle of work. Fucking Rosie could walk in. Did you know I have a reputation to maintain?” Elias pinches the bridge of his nose. “This can wait until we’re home.”

“We won’t have time then,” Peter replies. “And I miss you too, you know.”

Elias makes a pained little noise. “You have no idea how much I want you right now. But this will wait. We’ll figure it out.”

“How much? Show me.”

"Peter," Elias warns.

Peter gives it up with a breathy laugh. "Okay," he whispers. “See you at home. Love you.”

“You too.”

Apparently, Elias’ ability to stick to reason is intact even with his horny-addled brain. He lets out a deep exhale after the call is over.

The next ten minutes are spent willing his boner to go down by and focusing on work. It’s uncomfortable, but he manages. It gives him a headache for the rest of the day and much to think about — and even more to look forward to.

Unfortunately for both, Peter shoots him a message later on telling Elias that he will be home late and not to wait for him. The boys are disappointed, because it was film night and Peter had promised to watch Return of the King with them. Elias is sad, too; Peter had come back from three months at sea not a week ago, but again they have to be apart.

Elias helps the kids with homework and gets on a work call that drags on for an hour, which only serves to worsen his headache.

During dinner, Elias is taken aback by how observant his youngest is. Martin’s Daddy must be wearing his sourest look, for it prompts the boy to pat Elias’ hand (exactly how Peter does when someone’s upset) and tell him:

“Don’t be sad, Daddy. Dad will be home soon and then you can complain to him about work.”

Elias nearly chokes on food the second time that day. Tim chimes in.

“Yeah, dad. Don’t worry about it. The old man knows what he’s doing.” And without missing a beat, with those big brown eyes of his. “Can I play before bed?”

“Definitely not. You’ll wake up cranky tomorrow.” Tim pouts, tries again, but Elias’s word is final (even if he feels soft after their comforting words). “Thank you, boys. I know how much you look forward to movie night. I’m sorry it didn’t work.”

Tim shrugs, digging into his pasta. Martin is quick to come up with a solution.

“Can you read for us, daddy?”

That catches Tim’s attention. Elias crosses both hands over the table.

“Oh? What would you like me to read?”

Martin leaps out of the chair and thrusts a tomato-sauce covered spoon up in the air. “The adventures of the incredible Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag-End!” he roars.

Tim rolls his eyes.

It doesn’t take them long to sleep with Elias reading The Hobbit. Well, it doesn’t take Tim long to sleep (he’s heard this story countless times before and it's a favourite, even if now he says it's for babies) — Martin is paying close attention and interrupting Elias every now and again to ask questions. When the youngest finally drifts off, Elias tucks him in and puts the book back on the shelf.

Tim is almost as tall as Elias now, but Elias can still pick him up from Martin’s bed and carry him to his own bedroom. For someone who wanted to play video games and rolled his eyes at their book choice, his oldest fell asleep very swiftly.

Elias clears the dinner table, does the dishes and puts the rest of the food away. It’s a little past 10PM now and Peter is still not home. Elias only hopes nothing bad has happened (especially after today’s surprise).

Elias finally has a chance to shower and spends five minutes just letting the hot water spray massage his back. He considers touching himself — the awareness that he could use an orgasm and that now is the perfect time to achieve it is very present within him — but before he comes to a decision, he’s already stepped out of the bathroom.

Peter’s sleep t-shirt seems to eye him from the bed as Elias pats himself dry. Should he? After all, why not? He misses the old fool.

Elias pulls the t-shirt on and has to suppress a laugh at how silly he looks, greying brown curls plastered to his forehead and lean body looking too small in that tee — Peter is many sizes larger than him, so the item reaches halfway down his thighs. Elias pulls on some underwear and crawls into bed with a book. The t-shirt is so large that he has to keep adjusting it lest it falls below his shoulder.

For the first hour, Elias tries to read. He really, really does. But perhaps wearing Peter’s clothes hadn’t been his brightest idea. The item is soaked in Peter’s scent, which is positively distracting. Elias catches himself reading the same line three times and lets out a frustrated groan.

“Okay, fine! Fine, I’ll do it!”

Elias shoves the book onto the bedside table and ducks beneath the duvets, lying on his side. He’ll make this as quick as he can and then he’ll go the fuck to sleep.

He runs a hand down his chest, but it feels more perfunctory than pleasant. When it's Peter doing it, it has Elias shivering in no time. Elias closes his eyes and tries to relax, tries to think of how it feels when Peter rubs a rough palm over his nipples and kisses his belly until he squirms.

Elias has left the door open and his ears peeled to any sounds of little steps in the hallway, so it takes a while to concentrate on the ways his body is reacting.

Eventually though, it becomes easier — there have been no steps, no sounds but the soft little puffs of air that he’s letting out. One of his hands is rubbing a nipple through the t-shirt and the other is cupping his cock. Pleasure finally takes over when he presses that hand down his pelvis and a shiver runs up his body, arching his back.

Elias slips a hand under the waistband of his underwear and wraps it around his cock to pull back the skin. It’s getting hot and damp under the duvets, but Elias doesn’t plan to make this long. Just a bit more and he’ll come.

A twist of his wrist has him shuddering and letting out a breathy curse. Elias pulls the too-large shirt up to his nose and takes a big inhale. His mind is filled with Peter and he darts a tongue out for a taste, but gets none.

Still, he has had Peter in his mouth times enough to remember his taste. It makes Elias wet at the tip. He’s so close, so fucking close — but he’s also tempted to keep edging himself; keep thinking of all the things he wishes Peter would do to him. It’s been too fucking long, and he knows that if he doesn’t give his body what it wants every once in a while, it will just keep coming back to bother him.

But then again, the mess… And he’s so close, so, so close. Just a bit more, just drown out everything else.

Elias is so lost in his chase that doesn’t hear it when the front door clicks open; nor when a heavy coat is hung on the hallway pegs; doesn’t notice some of the lights being turned on and off, and is completely oblivious to the figure standing on the threshold and the socked steps that carry the man inside.

Elias only notices that Peter has arrived home when the duvet is gently pulled back and Peter’s smiling face pokes into his line of view — but by the time Peter has let out a soft “hey darling, what are you doing” Elias has already let out a blood-curdling scream and punched him in the face.

Peter falls flat on his bum with an expletive. “Jesus! What the fuck, Elias!”

Elias clutches his chest, breathing hard. “Oh- Oh Lord Jesus. My heart, my poor heart.” He turns to Peter with murder in his eyes. “What the hell were you thinking sneaking in like that?!”

Peter gets up, rubbing his sore bum. “I didn’t exactly try to sneak in, maybe you just didn’t hear me. I wasn’t particularly trying to be quiet. What the hell are you doing still up anyway?”

Elias ignores him. He snaps his head to the hallway. “Do you think the kids heard it?”

Peter shrugs, still sore.

“Get on!”

Peter grudgingly goes to check on the kids, but comes back shaking his head. Elias falls back into bed with a relieved sigh. Peter takes up a spot near the edge.

“What are you doing up? It’s way past midnight.”

Elias then remembers that his (now very much limp) dick is still out under the duvets. “Nothing much, I was just reading.”

“You were reading under the covers in the dark.”

Elias nods.

Peter isn’t convinced, but that gives way to a confused frown. “Hold on, is that my t-shirt?”

Elias looks down as if he hadn’t realised he had been wearing it. “Huh. I guess.”

Peter’s frown deepens. He touches the duvet. Elias clutches it and holds it down on reflex. Peter’s mouth opens in an accusing “oh!”

Peter can be very stubborn when he sets his mind upon something. This time, said something happens to be getting the covers out of the way.

Elias curls in on himself and burrows deeper into the duvet, but Peter (the cheap bastard that he is) resorts to tickling. Elias muffles an ugly laugh into the pillow. Peter is laughing too.

“Stop! Fuck, I’ll show you, stop!” Elias wheezes. Peter’s laughter dies off. He combs Elias’s damp hair backwards and kisses his cheek.

Elias sits up and pulls the duvet aside, feeling completely undignified. His cock is poking out above the underwear, but at least the t-shirt is covering it.

It’s enough for Peter to put two and two together.

“Were you masturbating?”

“No. Like I said, I was reading.”

Peter reaches for the hem of the shirt. Elias grabs his hand. “I said I was reading.”

Peter drops it, lets his hand fall to Elias’s thigh. A moment later, he gives it a squeeze. “Want some help?”

Elias narrows his eyes at him, then glances at the clock. Way, way past midnight.

The squeeze is back, travelling upwards. In spite of his better judgement, Elias’s legs fall open to give it more access and he sighs in defeat. So much for a steely resolve.

Peter slides a palm under the shirt but doesn’t get the item out of the way. Rather, he caresses Elias’s stomach and lower pelvis. Elias shivers deliciously; he’d been dreaming of this all day.

“You’ve been holding back a lot today,” Peter points out after Elias gets hard with just some light teasing. Peter hasn’t even touched his cock.

Elias wiggles to get Peter to touch him, slides down the bed. The invitation is clear enough, but Peter seems to be waiting for a verbal one. “I was being a sensible adult.”

Peter smiles. “Thought you’d like a bit of sexting. You used to love it back in uni.”

Elias had always been weak to Peter’s eyes, especially when they’re looking at him as if he’s something to be slowly savoured and then swallowed. Elias rolls his hips, staring at Peter’s hand on his inner thigh. The movement almost makes it touch his cock, but misses it for a few inches. Elias huffs in frustration.

“Thought you said you were going to help.”

“I can only help if you tell me what you want.”

Elias rolls his eyes at him. Peter waits happily.

“Touch me.”

“Where?”

“My cock.” Elias wants to punch him when Peter merely raises his eyebrows, unimpressed. “Touch my cock, please?”

If that doesn’t do it, Elias is getting a divorce. To his delight, it awakens something in Peter that makes his eyes go dark with lust.

“Fuck, yes. But it’s too dry- Where’s the-” Elias passes him the lube before Peter finishes the sentence. “Love you.”

Peter squirts some lube onto his palms and rubs them together. They’re cool when they touch Elias’s inner thighs and drag down, massaging the region and getting it all wet.

Elias sighs, eyes fluttering momentarily. He can’t help but roll his hips to ease some of the tension. He’s so hard and Peter is taking so long — but when he finally does it, Elias hisses through clenched teeth.

“Feels good, love?”

Elias bites his lower lip, chin tucked to his chest as he watches that big fist pumping wetly around his cock. Only the glistening head is visible, hot red and ready to shoot. Peter rubs a thumb under his frenulum and Elias sees stars.

“Ah, shit,” he sobs, grabbing fistfuls of the too large t-shirt and fucking into Peter’s fist, because the squeeze is so damn good.

Will Peter mind if Elias sniffs his shirt? Fuck it. Elias balls up some fabric and pulls it to his nose. The action doesn’t escape Peter; in fact, he seems entertained by it.

Elias notices his husband’s amusement only through half-lidded eyes, because every single part of his body feels like molasses right now.

“Look at you, ’s like you’re drunk in it.” Peter licks a finger and presses it up Elias’s perineum.

The pressure sends a thick dollop of pre-cum leaking down Elias’s cock. Elias’s eyes roll back into their sockets. Peter taunts him further.

“Want me to put my mouth on you or do you want something better to sniff on?”

“Fuck you and your dirty mouth.”

Peter laughs. “You can, baby. Always loved the way you shiver when you come down my throat.”

Elias points a weak finger towards the door. “Close that first.”

Peter goes and Elias hears the unmistakable sound of a lock falling into place. Peter sheds his shirt and trousers on the way back. Elias can see the outline of his cock against his underwear and makes grabby hands at it.

Peter chuckles and stands next to the headboard. “Can’t decide?”

Elias forgoes the shirt in favour of leaning over the edge and burying a face into Peter’s groin. He takes a deep inhale and mouths at it, dragging his tongue all the way up.

“Fuck,” he groans. “I’ve missed this.”

Peter moans above him and cradles his nape, pulling at the fine hairs there to make Elias shiver. Elias gives his own cock a few lazy pumps while his mouth is busy getting Peter’s underwear all damp.

Elias steals a glance at the digital clock again and whines. Peter asks him what’s wrong.

“I want to fuck you so bad right now, but look at the time.”

“I am looking. It’s working fine.”

Elias swats at him. “I’m serious!”

Peter lets go of Elias’s nape to cradle his face, guiding him upwards. Elias follows it, standing on his knees.

“I’ve bought Red Bull,” Peter confides, and that’s the most beautiful thing to ever come out of his mouth. Elias melts a little just then.

Peter grabs his arse and pulls him to himself. The feel of his underwear is rough against Elias’s cock, but Elias ruts into it. The hand on Elias’s face has now slid to wrap loosely around his neck. Elias pulls Peter’s underwear down and Peter wiggles out of them.

Peter’s cock hangs heavy where it’s nestled amid the thick silver hair on his groin. Elias’s mouth waters at the sight of it, but he eagerly presses them together. The hairs on Peter’s chest and lower abdomen feel coarse against his skin, but Elias loves every second of it. It will leave him tender and pink tomorrow, but he doesn’t care.

Peter pulls him into a kiss that is everything Elias has been craving all day — it doesn’t stop at his mouth, but drags down his jaw and neck, making him pliant. Peter moves his face from one side to the other to nip under his ear and suck bruises onto his collarbones.

“Got rubber?” Elias asks. Peter growls affirmatively.

It’s been a while, but they know how the other likes it. Elias is dripping wet with lube while Peter preps him. Elias would usually prefer his own fingers (much slimmer than Peter’s) at first, but right now he’s turned on enough that the slight burn of the stretch feels perfect. Elias lies on the pillows and lets Peter work his magic.

Peter kneels between his legs and fingers him as if he doesn’t have a care in the world, curling up his fingers to milk Elias’s cock. Elias arches his back and watches dollop after dollop of pre-cum leak from his tip.

“Peter, I swear- to God… If you make me come like this-”

Whatever Elias had thought of saying is completely wiped from his mind when Peter leans down and gives his cockhead a gentle suck, as easy as someone scooping some ice-cream with their tongue.

Elias swears at Peter, but he can’t do much else besides clench his hands and teeth and try to keep from coming. He was so close just now; only a brief touch of Peter’s tongue and his cock is now throbbing, legs shaking so hard he has to suck in his stomach to not orgasm right then and there.

“It would be a sight to behold. You are a sight to behold.”

“Cut the crap, please cut the crap and just fuck me. Fuck, I’m so hard it hurts, you bastard.”

“Then come, love.”

“I don’t wanna come without you inside me.”

Elias should be embarrassed to find that his eyes are glistening with moisture. These can’t be tears. He refuses to believe that he’s crying during sex.

Peter wipes the corner of his eye, boops Elias’s nose with his own and gives him a gentle peck.

“Okay,” Peter whispers.

Peter rolls condoms on himself and Elias, then arranges a pillow under Elias to prop him up and slides home. The size of him fills Elias up so good, so perfect — all the way down to those wiry silver curls. Sure, topping Peter also felt brilliant — but if he’s true to himself, Elias rather likes it up the arse.

They fall into a nice rhythm — whispering disconnected praises and curses. Elias keeps a hand on the headboard for leverage, rolling his hips to meet Peter’s own, re-learning where it feels good. He reminds himself that this is supposed to be quick, just a bit of rough friction before they can’t hold it anymore.

But feeling Peter’s hand clutching his waist, relishing in the delicious push and pull, seeing Peter’s fuzzy pecs flex with the easy effort of taking him — it all has Elias clenching around Peter’s cock and reaching out to trace the lines of his chest.

“Fuck, I should be telling you to go faster.”

“Do you want to go faster?”

“No… I want to keep taking your cock until sunrise.”

“I’m afraid we’ll have to stop at some point for rest, but if you’re up to it, I’m all yours.”

Elias smiles, but his eyebrows twitch when Peter finds that spot and fucks into him, pressing right up against it.

“You see I want that, but when you do this… I want you to leave me all sore.”

“You’re a man of many wishes.”

Elias grins. “Think you can answer them?”

Peter pats his leg. “On your hands and knees, then.”

Arse up in the air, Elias stifles a laugh when Peter squirts more lube onto his hole and drags his cock over it.

Peter pushes back in with a smile. “What is it?”

“Just remembered something. When we first-” Elias hisses when Peter spreads his legs further and angles his thrusts just right. “Yeah, right there. Fuck… When we first had sex. I couldn’t believe you were just bringing people to your room and never doing this to them.”

Peter holds his hips like his hands belong there, finally giving it to him hard and fast. Elias has to clutch the sheets, but damn, that’s more like it. The t-shirt has balled up near his face and he keeps breathing in Peter’s scent.

“Uh- yeah. Hah, that was a long time ago. Is this OK, love?”

Elias nods. “Yeah. Bit rougher would be even nicer though.”

Peter grunts and his hands slide upwards. “Don’t want to hurt you, but if you say you can take it...”

Elias’s waist used to be so lean that Peter’s fingertips almost touched circling around it. Now that Elias is a bit better padded, they grab his flesh with a bit of loving violence while Peter ruts into him. Elias prays that this million pound house has thick enough walls that the noise of skin on skin won’t bleed out.

Elias wraps a loose hand around his cock, but that mere touch is enough to bring him closer to the edge. The fact that he feels so wonderfully used for Peter’s pleasure also does things to his head, because every grunt of Peter’s feels like a small victory.

Peter continues, fondly. “You used to be so fucking shameless. I’m still sad you had to remove the nip piercings.”

“It was easier- Oh, oh! Yes, just like that!” Elias presses his face into the bed, panting open-mouthed against the mattress. “It was easier- Easier,” he tries to continue, but Peter is fucking him so good that he can’t complete his line of thought.

“...that way?” Peter supplies.

Elias nods. He feels half out of it already. “I think- Gonna come. S-so good...”

Peter’s approving hum is followed by him dropping part of his weight onto Elias’s back, which forces Elias flat into the mattress. Elias gasps, loud and breathless and more in love with Peter than ever before. His husband knows that he’s a sucker for a bit of choking and is giving him exactly what he needs.

Peter thrusts harder, deeper, and it only takes a moment of Elias to come — the pressure and the friction too good to resist. Peter has to wrap a hand over his mouth to quieten his moaning. Elias shudders with the aftershocks, Peter’s still moving inside him almost too much to bear.

“God, you squeeze me so good every time,” Peter breathes into his nape. “I’ve missed this.”

Elias can’t breathe; tears gather freely on the corners of his eyes, but Peter doesn’t get off until he comes, too — it feels like orgasm drags on forever in an agonised bliss.

Elias shivers when Peter pulls out. It always gets a bit dry towards the end, but the burn and the stretch leave Elias tingly and sated — and now, completely boneless.

Peter eases him onto his side and removes the now damp t-shirt, chucking it aside; he then ties off both their condoms. The one that Elias has been wearing has almost slipped off; his flaccid cock now covered in spunk. Peter kneels between his legs and takes him into his mouth, causing Elias to seize with oversensitivity and nearly pull off chunks of Peter’s hair.

Peter pulls off of him with a wet pop, looking like the cat that got the cream. Elias sags and drapes an arm over his head, damp chest going up and down.

“Feeling better?” Peter asks. He caresses Elias’s thighs gently, barely even there. It makes pleasant goosebumps rise on Elias’s skin.

“God, you’ve ruined me…” Elias croaks. “You’ve fucked my brains out, Mr. Lukas.”

Peter chuckles. “Good.” He kisses Elias’s knee, his belly, his chest. Elias buries his fingers into his hair. “Gonna get something to clean you up.”

“Wait, just. Just stay like this for a bit.”

“Feeling like some post-coital cuddling, Mr. Bouchard?”

“Ugh,” Elias untangles his fingers from his perfect silver hair. “Now you’ve ruined it. Just go.”

Peter gives a rumbling chuckle that resounds through Elias’s chest. “No, thinking about it, I rather like it here. I get to see all your freckles.”

“Hm. Have you finally managed to count how many of them there are?”

“Nope,” Peter kisses his stomach, over the Eye tattoo. “But I’m still on it!”

Elias yawns. “Good- Good luck.”

“Gee, I really ought to get something to clean you up. At this rate you’ll end up sleeping.”

Elias snorts with his eyes closed. “Already am.”

Peter kisses his nose and leaves him be. When Elias wakes up the next day, he notices three things: one, Peter actually did give him a wipe down; two, he is very much aware of all the sleep he didn’t get last night; and three, he’s got an easy smile on for the rest of the day that he can’t deny.

#my fic #nanda's ramblings #lonelyeyes #lonelyeyes fic #lonelyeyes fanfiction #peter lukas #elias bouchard #martin blackwood #tim stoker #gertrude robinson #jurgen leitner #tma fic #tma fanfiction #do not archive #peterelias

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natexarnoult · 3 years

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hey all!! my name is mads and i’m 23, use she/her pronouns, and live in mst! i’m so excited for y’all to meet nathan - he’s a char i’ve had in mind for a while and i’m stoked to finally bring him to life! i’ve included some main points about him under the cut, along with his bio and a couple extras for him - please message me if you’d like to plot :D

Nathan comes from a single-mother household... at least, until he was in high school.

Nate knows who his father is and is trying to build a relationship w/ the man but is still hurt from his mother hiding his father’s identity & not hiding the truth.

He is very much a ‘trust-fund’ kid but is working hard to distant himself from his parents’ wealth and build a name that isn’t connected to his parents.

Nathan truly is a sweetheart but has a hard time expressing this to those he cares about - he grew up in a home that wasn’t welcoming to affection and is still trying to break this habit.

He’s been in Heartsdale for several years and I’m so open to creating some pre-existing connections with him! Friends, ex friends, exes, enemies - anything! Please just message me so we can chat :)

He graduated from UCLA with an art history degree but is more interested in actually making art than learning about it - he travels a lot as he likes to make his show room diverse and brings in pieces from all around the country.

Nathan lives above his gallery but spends most of his time outside of both his gallery and his apartment - it’s either a midlife crisis and he regrets his choices or he’s just trying to meet new friends, who knows?

His pinterest is here and is constantly being update; please follow me if you feel so inclined!

Annnnnd: bio here as well:

Nate’s parents met while his father was on a school trip. A senior studying art history at Harvard, he’d taken the trip as an excuse to ‘see the world’ - if that world meant England, sure. His mother was the manager at a museum they visited on the trip & his father found himself returning to her canvas filled institute daily. They spent hours talking, sharing their love of paintings and critiquing some of the pieces her museum had chosen to display. Neither of them wanted to admit that their time together would be coming to a close - his trip was only for 3 weeks over the winter holidays - but on his last day in the country, Nathan’s father left a note within her bedside drawer, his address and phone number scrawled sloppily across a spare receipt & he snuck out before the sun was up. Saying goodbye would be too hard.

He returned to the States. He graduated. He got a job. He went years without hearing from the woman he’d met. One day, when his father was leaving The Met - he’d become a director of programs - his eye landed on a woman who looked so familiar, her hand clutched by a child, no older than 10. That moment was Nate’s first memory of his dad.

He remembers sitting in his dad’s house, a wide and bright space that was 20 minutes from where they’d met on those huge steps. This man had given them a ride and was now setting tea in front of his mother, but Nate was playing with his dog. He remembers snippets of the conversation - his mom was apologizing a lot. Apparently she hadn’t wanted to see him. They were in the States to visit her sister, Nate’s aunt. He remembers that this man kept looking between his mom and him & he looked so confused. Finally, he remembers a silence falling over the room and the man asked a question. Nate couldn’t make it out but his mother’s response was clear, definite; “Yes. He’s yours.”

At the time, Nate had no idea what that meant. He hadn’t yet been given the talk and his mother didn’t explain her relationship to this man. She introduced him - Nathan couldn’t remember his name - and said that he was an old friend from college. But soon, he found himself with this man more often. His mother invited him to join them at his aunt’s birthday party. When they flew back home to England, his mother would often be stuck on the phone with her old friend from college. One day, a year or so after their New York trip, his mother was picking him up from school, nervously pressing her thumb nail into the steering wheel. She asked if he remembered her friend from college, the one they’d seen while in New York. Nate did. She asked if he’d like to take another trip to New York to see his aunt, to see her old friend from college & maybe stay longer this time - like maybe the whole summer holidays?

They stayed the whole summer and when fall came around and it was time for Nathan and his mother to return home, he was sad - he was going to miss his aunt, he was going to miss the excitement of living Stateside. The rest of his year was almost a blur - his school year went by relatively painlessly, though he had begun to feel the hurt of being one of the only brown kids in school - and eventually spring had returned. His mom, again, sat him down and began asking questions. Eventually, and now Nate was smart enough to see where this was going from the start, she asked Nate how he would feel about moving to the States, about living with his aunt for a while. The move itself was quick and before he knew it, Nate and his mother settled in the States. He spent his days at school and his afternoons in extracurriculars - his new school had an art program that Nate was excelling in. They spent nights hanging out with his aunt or his mom’s college friend and for the first time in his young life, Nate felt comfortable. His mom’s friend had begun taking him to the museums, explaining the complexities of the canvas hanging on the walls and asking for his opinion on the work.

When Nate was about halfway through his junior year of high school, his mother and her college friend were both in the car when he was picked up from school. It wasn’t entirely all that weird - he wasn’t dumb enough to think that they weren’t dating, but Nate did always wonder why his mother never broached the subject with him. It’s not like he was a little kid anymore, for fuck’s sake - if your kid is old enough to date, they’re old enough to know who you’re dating. Nate probably couldn’t tell you the rest of what happened that day. He remembered getting home and grabbing a snack, as he always does, and he remembered getting told to sit down by his mother, that she had something important to tell him.

Nate’s life split into the before and the now - before Stephen was his father & now. While typically a rather well-mannered teenager, Nate was furious. Sure, his mom didn’t have to disclose her love life if she didn’t want to, but to know that Stephen was his That they’d known since the start and never told him? He thought back to their first visit to New York, when they ran into Stephen on the steps of the Met - he remembered his mom was surprised, thrown off her guard, but never uncomfortable, never not wanting to be around this man.

He slammed the door on his way out of the house, hopping on his bike and riding off. That night was the first night he ever acted out - Nate made it to his friend’s place out in the suburbs and snuck in their basement window. The rest of his friends, along with a couple girls he knew from his English Lit class, were circled around a small table, upon which sat a small tray & a bong. Nate welcomed the small act of rebellion, in the face of such shocking news, & spent his night testing his limits.

His parents, as he now so affectionately referred to them as, soon regretted telling Nate at such a volatile age. He soon spent all his evenings with his friends, sneaking into the house after midnight (if he’s early) and going straight up to his room. They tried not to push it and Nate was torn between appreciating being left alone and pissed that no one cared how he felt. His mom had tried to address it a couple times but Nate always shut down, refusing to give her more than a two word response.

It went on like that for 2 years, silence, short answers, tension. At 18, Nathan found himself going off to college, moving across the country to attend UCLA. He lived off his parents money, figuring the least they could do after years of absconding from the truth. And he lived lavishly - drinks on him every time his friends went to the bars, new clothes, new shoes, everything he could want.

He graduated with minimal rule infractions, an MIP here, possession of controlled substance there. But his parents always paid for a lawyer, flew out for the week and handled everything for him. After college, Nathan bounced around for a year, spent a couple months in LA, three in New York, and another 6 or so in a van his parents had financed, driving around the US.

Six months on the road proved to be exhausting, however, and Nathan found himself back in one of his first stops at the start of his trip, Heartsdale. It wasn’t long before he signed a lease on an apartment downtown and spent his days as a barista at Legal Grounds. He didn’t necessarily need the job - his parents still financed his whole life - but it was nice to have something to meet people in town. After a while, however, being a barista became boring. Nate spent his time admiring the local work they had pinned for sale on their walls, admiring the fine line work and critiquing in the way he’d spent four year training to do. On a walk, he found himself fantasizing about owning his own gallery, having his space to curate an experience. Nate’s eyes caught on every single ‘For Lease’ sign downtown, pausing and forcing himself not to take a peek inside. It wasn’t reasonable, he told himself. Irrational, at best. He had no experience managing anything, no experience building something from nothing.

And yet… he couldn’t help. One brisk morning, the sun was bright against a For Lease sign, practically screaming the numbers at him. His fingers were typing the numbers into his phone before he even realized what he was doing. It was 4:23am, the downside of an opening shift at a coffee shop, and he wasn’t expecting anyone to pick up anyway. “Morning, uh,” he paused - was he really doing this? “My name is Nate Arnoult and I’m interested in the space you’ve got on 1st and..”

Moving in was quick, it only took 6 months before Nathan settled in the space above the retail spot. He spent his first night with his friends, drinking and dancing. His friends, just as ecstatic as he, commended him - Nate had been hemming & hawing about opening a gallery space for months and to finally have a space, a place to start… Nathan was on cloud nine. And it went better than he thought it did. The art scene extended out of his small town and he was able to show pieces from all over Georgia. He even flew out to other states, offered small artists a space in his show room. The rest, he supposed, is history. He’s been living a comfortable life and still maintains contact with his parents, despite their rocky past - not friendly, but not fatal either.

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prettyboysdontlookatexplosions · 3 years

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@dressrosaa and anyone else unfamiliar with pretty little liars, a postmodern tone poem about girlhood and violence, an experiment in storytelling divorced from linear time about how all cops are bastards and dads are even worse, one of the most bafflingly homophobic pieces of media i have ever seen despite the fact that the showrunner for all seven seasons is literally a lesbian like GIRL are you OKAY blink twice for I NEED THERAPY:

pretty little liars tells the story of four friends: spencer hastings (deranged genius/former and future speed addict, perfect); hanna marin (blonde shoplifter/recovering bulimic, an angel we don’t deserve); emily fields (gay swimmer, has no personality but it’s hard to tell if that’s because pll is homophobic or because shay mitchell CANNOT act but is almost hot enough to make up for it); and aria montgomerry (the fucking goddamn worst i know it’s wrong to hold this much hate in my heart for a sixteen year old who spends the ENTIRE show being sexually preyed upon but in my defense it is fiction and frankly barely even that; truly the relationship between pretty little liars and our normal human understanding of narrative is tenuous at best; the point is if aria were real she would be deserving of infinite compassion but she is not so she just sucks). a year after their queen bee alison disappears, her body is found, at which point they all start getting texts from the mysterious “A,” who knows their secrets with NSA-bugging-a-therapist’s-office precision and seems to have nothing to do in life other than to torture them into constantly endangering themselves or betraying each other or doing other horrible things that will then hang over their heads for 800 years.

PLL is sort of like what if a classic dead blonde whodunit has a nightmare octopus baby with jj abrams “mystery box” storytelling spliced together with a sense of pacing even more deranged than the magicians at its most unhinged; the reason i make so many jokes about its lack of interest in physical spacetime is because it’s technically canon that two and a half entire seasons, during which among other things spencer has a nervous breakdown and an addiction relapse and goes to rehab and then gets out of rehab T W I C E, takes place between the first week of school and thanksgiving break. it is not by any means a “good” show and it’s pretty clear that any “ideas” in it were there by accident, but watching 6 seasons in a month was one of the most enthralling television experiences of my life, and it really does love to remind you that no men on earth are good (*except for hanna’s street rat hacker boyfriend caleb played by tyler blackwell whose face makes me feel extremely safe who is the most perfect dreamboat in the history of televisual dreamboats). part of its unhinged M. O. is of course keeping you constantly guessing about who “A” is, taking you through like 7000 red herring reveals (along with some real reveals later retconned as beta-A’s working for the real A - i’m telling you this shit is fucking nuts) in which we spend a couple episodes thinking (if we have never watched a television show before) that so and so must be A, only to have their nefarious behavior explained away by some other mechanism.

i’m giving this context because i am taking your inquiry about the throwaway reference i made as a chance to explain my favorite of the A fake-outs, which centers on ezra fitz. who is ezra fitz? he is a demon in human disguise. he beats out craig manning on degrassi for worst fictional boyfriend in the history of teen melodrama. he is a dude who macks on a fifteen-year-old aria montgomery at a bar the weekend before school starts and then turns out to be, surprise! HER ENGLISH TEACHER. because the show, despite being incredible and amazing and iconic, is also very bad, their relationship, which goes on and off the entire seven seasons and winds up endgame, is sold as like a torrid and angsty secret affair, and not the creepiest thing that has ever happened. despite the fact that ezra is the closest the show has to a male lead and played by the second hottest dude on it, in season 4 they were running out of A candidates and started giving us shady clues to ezra’s shadiness, discovered and mostly put together by spencer, who simultaneously was coping with the stress of trying to get into an ivy league college while also saving herself and her friends, all of whom take turns sharing one brain cell leaving her to do all the thinking, from the constant assault of a blackmailing emotional terrorist who at this point has also tried to kill them several times. one time aria winds up in a box on a train next to a dead body and also it’s halloween and adam lambert is performing on the train, god when riverdale season 1 was good i thought riverdale was like what if pretty little liars but on purpose but with the benefit of hindsight clearly PLL had what riverdale fucking WISHES it could.

in order to deal, spencer has fallen on her old pill-popping ways (for, just to reiterate, the second time after leaving a mental institution in the span of like 10 weeks), and JUST as she is on the verge of really PROVING that their english teacher is A, she suffers a stimulant-induced psychotic break i.e. gives the show their framing device for doing a Theme Episode around the theme of Film Noir, where everything is in black and white and everyone talks funny. you can watch a clip here to get the flavor. sidebar at this point alison has appeared to every single character i think and it’s like still fully a mystery whether they all individually hallucinated her at times of stress or if she’s secretly alive. once again this show owns.

anyway her friends totally freak on spencer when she tells them her theory, because she is literally the only person in town with a brain, but then we get this amazing episode where aria (a child) is at her english teacher’s cabin for the weekend and he’s acting exactly like a serial killer the entire time and she starts to have doubts and has a very tense ski lift ride with him and THEN! THEN what’s amazing is that ezra is NOT A, but in explaining why he has been acting so shady despite not being A they manage to somehow make him not ONLY worse than an english teacher who was fucking his high school student but ALSO make him POSSIBLY WORSE THAN AN ACTUAL MURDERER IMO, because it turns out that he met alison briefly before she died/fake died and then got obsessed with her death and SO he came to town and got a job at the school AND MADE OUT WITH THIS DEAD TEENAGE GIRL’S EQUALLY TEENAGE FRIEND IN THE BAR THAT DAY AND PURSUED A SEXUAL RELATIONSHIP WITH HER AS HER ENGLISH TEACHER.............................................. IN ORDER TO DO RESEARCH FOR A TRUE CRIME BOOK. LITERALLY the most incredible thing i have ever witnessed on television. it’s SO incredible and PLL is SO far from being what you could call a “normal” “story” that my love for it is not even diminished by the fact that aria eventually takes him back because this show is evil and she is stupid (again i would NOT say that of an ACTUAL child victimized by an english teacher/pathetic truman capote wannabe, but aria is made up and not around to hear about how bad she sucks and i hate her) (my god she’s so bad guys like you simply cannot watch the show and retain empathy for her it WILL break you). it does help that in between those things ezra gets his dumb ass shot. yeah for “love” or whatever but like he deserved it i’m not gonna complain.

anyway i hope that helps clarify matters. just to stress the important part, this is not in the top 10 most deranged things that happened on this show. one time A snuck into a dentist’s office and knocked hanna out with laughing glass and implanted a tiny strip of paper in her gums which when the liars extracted it later read DEAD GIRLS DON’T SMILE. another time for a fashion show they were getting dressed up and one of them realized she was wearing a corset made of human finger-bones. they all go to jail because they have been framed but then on the way to jail they get kidnapped in an underground bunker styled to look like their childhood bedroom where A makes them milgram experiment each other for three weeks. watching this show will literally change the structures of your brain. i heard it’s finally legal in oregon now.

#pll

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comradelup · 4 years

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intertwined.

In the soft glow of Lup's bedroom, Lucretia finds herself talking more than she usually does. And Lup, she listens. What's the point of loving a woman to the point of prayer if you don't get worshiped in return?

ao3

The room is warm, in every sense of the word. The snow outside seems like it’ll never let up, so the heat’s been cranked. The lights strung around the room are shining in a sunset golden glow like fireflies. Music plays softly from a speaker on the shelf, a never-ending lo-fi radio that completes the atmosphere. It’s girls’ night, and the only two girls on the ship are hanging out.

Or… they’re doing separate things in the same room, that’s more accurate. Lup is seated on her bed, her long hair swept over her shoulder as she braids it, concentrating on her reflection in a mirror on the adjacent wall. Her back is to Lucretia, who is on the floor by the bed with a mirror of her own. She’s carefully applying makeup to her face, and she’s almost done. She tends to not wear it if she has no reason to, but Lup is insistent that there is one. She still doesn’t know what it is.

With a purse of her lips to apply the lipstick, Lucretia leans back to admire her reflection in full. It’s pretty, soft edges and cool colors. She finds herself smiling at her reflection.

Then Lup breaks the silence. “Lemme see.” She’s turned around to smile down at her like a kid at Candlenights.

Lucretia looks away from the mirror to present her face to Lup. Her smile softens and she says, “You look great, Lucy.”

Her heart flips in her chest. How can Lup just say things like that, nicknames and everything, and act as if her smile couldn’t make flowers bloom? Stars pale in comparison. Lucretia, a writer by trade, can’t conjure the words to describe the way she feels. She says, “Thanks.”

“It’s unfair, actually,” Lup says, hands pulling a hair tie around the end of her braid as she keeps studying Lucretia’s face. “You’re smart and pretty.”

Lucretia’s heart jump ropes now. “What?”

Lup chuckles. “You heard me.” With her hair done she slides over on the bed and pats the empty space. “Help me do mine.”

“Are you sure?” Lucretia asks, but she’s already gathering up the assorted products.

“Why wouldn’t I be? You’re good at it,” Lup says. She takes the stuff from Lucretia’s hands and their fingers brush momentarily. For all the flames regularly licking them, Lup’s hands are soft, incredibly so.

“Wait, lemme just… here.” Lup moves around, sweeping away brushes and pallets as she sits on her knees against the headboard. “Okay, I’m good.”

Lucretia lays out the makeup, giving herself time to think. She thinks about what look she’ll do— maybe sharp warm colors to compliment Lucretia, it certainly fits Lup— and she thinks about how she certainly won’t survive touching Lup’s face so much. The other crew members can have her things, let them use her journals for origami. They’ll see her when the next cycle begins.

Her hands move through the motions on autopilot but she hesitates right before touching Lup’s face. They’re close, knees touching. Lucretia’s vision is all Lup, Lup, Lup.

“Go ahead,” she says, voice low due to the proximity. “I don’t mind.”

So Lucretia goes, applying makeup on a face she’s trying very hard to not look at. She has to lean in a bit and tries not to think about it too much when she has to brace herself on Lup’s thighs.

After a few moments of music, Lup asks, “Are you having fun?”

“Of course I am,” Lucretia says immediately, the answer obvious. She cherishes every moment spent with Lup. Even before she developed these sappy feelings that turn her heart to a hummingbird and her legs to jelly. She likes having Lup as a friend.

“Oh. Cool,” Lup says, looking at the wall as Lucretia presses a sponge to her face. “You’re just being quiet.”

“I’m always quiet?”

Lup makes a well duh expression. “I guess I’m just used to being loud when I’m happy. I’m loud most of the time, actually.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Lucretia says, more of a mumble as she focuses on getting this right.

“I know. I’m trying to understand you, is all. Constant silence doesn’t really clue me in on your emotions, you know.”

Lucretia pauses, finally making eye contact with Lup. In a rare moment of vulnerability, she looks nervous. “Sorry, that was rude wasn’t it?”

“No?” Lucretia says, then again, “No.”

“No?”

“No.” Lucretia tilts Lup’s chin slightly up with her pinkie, then goes back to work. Lup looks away again, and Lucretia can breathe. “You’re not wrong. I just never thought about that. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Lup says softly, keeping her mouth from moving too much as the sponge is pressed around her mouth. “You have your ways of expressing emotion and they’re fine, just… different from mine.”

“How so?” Lucretia asks. She puts the sponge down and picks up a brush.

“Well…” She thinks of the words for a moment, eyes idly traveling the room. “I grew up around people who didn’t care much. Not Taako, we love each other, but our guardians. Aunts and uncles and stuff. Half of them didn’t want anything to do with us and the other half got annoyed. I had to get loud and obvious to get what I needed.”

Lucretia focuses on her brushing, feather-light across Lup’s cheekbones. The twins have mentioned their past before, in the rare times they’ve let their walls down. Lucretia always feels bad for them, but she knows they don’t want pity. They’re Taako and Lup, who would feel bad for two of the greatest wizards in existence? If anything, Lucretia is envious of their resilience.

“I see,” she says.

Lup makes a humming sound, the vocal equivalent of a nod. “What about you? How weird are emotions in Lucy’s head?”

Half of Lucretia’s mouth quirks up in a grin. Emotions, huh? Tricky, especially for her. “I’m an artist. The weirdest part is the result of my expression.”

“Really? I’ve only ever read your chronicles.”

“I’m not just a writer, even though that’s my passion. I paint, I draw, I make music sometimes.”

“Bragger,” Lup says, fixing Lucretia with a grin. Lucretia smiles sheepishly and shrinks away. Lup says, “Oh come on I’m only teasing.”

She pulls Lucretia towards her by the fingers, chuckling as she gets Lucretia in her face again. Lucretia lets herself be led— she’d let Lup lead her into battle, she could eradicate the Hunger with Lup looking at her like that— and she resumes her makeup application.

“Seriously though, how am I supposed to tell how you’re feeling? I don’t wanna assume you’re happy when you feel like shit.”

Lucretia shrugs. “I use art to deal with things. I don’t really have trouble with day to day emotions, but big stuff that really messes me up, I use art to get through it.” She nearly wrote a novel when she was accepted into the Institute. She paints night skies when she can’t bring herself to feel anything. She finds herself humming nowadays because she’s so head over heels for Lup.

“I should see more of your art then,” Lup says.

Lucretia nods. She’s hesitant to show people her art, it gets too personal, even if buried under metaphorical uses of colors and phrases. But… it’d be nice if Lup understood her as much as she wants to.

She puts down her brush and picks up a pencil. Eyeliner is… trickier. She has to get closer to get it right. Lup sees her fumbling and says, “It’s fine, I really don’t mind.”

Lucretia looks from the pencil to Lup’s face, uncertain. “Here,” Lup says, taking Lucretia’s wrists in her hands. She gently pulls, guiding her closer and closer, until Lucretia’s hands are placed on Lup’s shoulders.

Her hands move to Lucretia’s waist and the air is sucked out of the room. Lup guides Lucretia until she’s sitting in Lup’s lap, Lucretia’s knees straddling either side of Lup’s own.

“There, we’re all good,” Lup says with a smile. Now that’s just not fair. Lucretia’s been K.O.ed, let someone else into the ring.

Lucretia nods, one hand gently pressing against Lup’s face as the other starts to work the liner onto her lid. She goes slow, not wanting to mess up.

“Can I ask you something now?” she finds herself asking though. The curious part of her commandeered her vocal cords.

“That’s only fair.” Lup’s voice is even quieter. A combination of even closer and not wanting to mess up the pencil right near her eye.

Lucretia hesitates for a moment as if this question could pop the bubble they’ve slowly been blowing during this conversation. “Why did you have us dress up tonight?”

“Hm?”

“You said there was a reason we needed to get dressed.”

There’s silence for a moment, before, “I wanted to spend time with you.”

Lucretia pauses, pencil moving away from eyelid. “What?”

Lup keeps her eyes closed. “We don’t hang out enough. We should be closer.”

Lucretia is shocked for a moment. Lup wants to hang out with her for no reason? Like, sure, they’ve spent time together that both of them enjoyed, but there was always a reason for it. They’re teaming up for a mission, testing out spells together, doing chores. She thought this night was for a reason, maybe Lup wanted her makeup done by someone other than herself. None of the other crew members can do makeup.

But Lup wants to just be with her. Exist in the same space. It’s obvious that Lucretia felt that way, but it’s… it’s good to hear that the feeling is mutual.

“Oh. Cool,” she says, finding herself echoing Lup.

Lup smiles as Lucretia goes back to applying. She says, “It’s cool if you wanna do something else next time. I just thought this could be fun.”

Oh gods, next time. Doing this all over again sounds unreal to Lucretia. Partially because she doesn’t want this night to end.

“I’m up for anything,” she says, and she is.

“That’s good. We’ll coordinate next time,” Lup says, “I know it was weird for me to just walk up to you and ask to hang out.”

“It’s alright.” It’s more than alright.

“I just blurt out random things sometimes. I know you’re a lot different.”

That’s the understatement of the cycle. Lucretia makes sure that every word that leaves her mouth is as thought out as the words she writes. That sometimes leads to lapses of silence during a conversation as Lucretia thinks of what to say next, but the crew is used to it by now. They don’t think twice about waiting for her response.

“There’s nothing wrong with spontaneity.”

“There’s nothing wrong with strategy.”

Lucretia leans back again and Lup opens her eyes this time, smiling at Lucretia. She looks like an angel.

Lucretia kind of wants to kiss her.

…Okay, not kind of.

Lup says, “You should just say what’s on your mind sometimes.”

They don’t break eye contact. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Silence weaves between the sentences they say, letting a tense something build before each response. “Don’t think about my feelings. You don’t have to say it to me, just say it.”

“Why would I say something if I’m not talking to a person?”

“Some things just need to be said.”

Lucretia pauses. Her arms have fallen away from Lup’s face, and the pencil sits forgotten on the covers. Lup licks her lips and says, “You don’t have to practice for me, Lucy.”

Lucretia closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and opens them. “Can I kiss you?”

Lup looks surprised. “Hm?”

“I want to kiss you.”

A beat. “Then do it.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice. Her head leans forward and closes the distance between them, her hands following shortly after. Careful of the makeup, she keeps her hands to the back of Lup’s head. Her braid leaves the base of her skull bare and Lucretia cups it with her hands. She feels bone and hair and skin, such simple things to make up a person who makes Lucretia feel so complicated.

Lup kisses her back immediately, hands finding Lucretia’s thighs. She rubs her thumbs in small rainbow shapes that light her on fire. Lup is an evocationist, after all.

Lucretia hasn’t kissed anyone in a long time and can count on one hand the number of times she has kissed someone. She’s clumsy and inexperienced, but Lup isn’t. Lup, ever genius, ever gentle, ever perfect, takes the lead. Lucretia is happy to follow.

She was wrong, Lup isn’t an angel, she’s more than that. Lup is holy and Lucretia is devout.

The kiss breaks when they need to breathe, but they don’t go far. Lucretia still cradles Lup’s skull and touches their foreheads together. Lup's hands move, wrapping her arms around Lucretia’s waist. She smiles, soft, and opens her eyes to look into Lucretia’s.

“You’re amazing,” Lucretia says.

“Says you.”

“I mean it. You’re… powerful and beautiful and graceful and you… you make my life bright. You’re art incarnate, and you’re the brush it’s painted with.”

Lup looks stunned. She leans up and forward to kiss Lucretia again, though it’s much slower than before. It lingers. When she pulls back they’re not exactly eye level, Lucretia’s a little taller from being in Lup’s lap. She watches Lup think for a moment as she plans what she says.

“If I’m art then you’re poetry. You’re… intricate, you’re carefully constructed, you— fuck, Lucretia, I love reading you. You’re so different from me and I love it.”

Now it’s Lucretia’s turn to be speechless. She’s very rarely addressed with her full name, and it sounds like a prayer on Lup’s tongue. She kisses the corner of Lucretia’s mouth. “You have to appreciate yourself too, babe. You write about other people, for other people, all the godsdamn time. You’re art too. Treat yourself like it.”

Lucretia closes her eyes and sighs heavily through her nose. She doesn’t want to cry, not with a face full of makeup and effort. When she opens her eyes she notices—

“I got my lipstick on you.” Her voice is oh so soft and shaky. It’s almost completely drowned out by the long-forgotten music.

Lup smiles. “I can’t seem to care.”

Lucretia finds herself smiling too. “What about this?” She leans in and kisses Lup’s cheek, leaving a mark.

“Oh no, what ever will I do about that?” Lup says, not sounding at all bothered.

Lucretia giggles and kisses Lup again and again. Lips, forehead, nose, lips, cheeks, chin, lips. Lips, lips, lips. They have to break the make-out session, though, because they both keep giggling. Lucretia, at Lup’s lipstick-stained face, and Lup, at Lucretia’s reaction.

“You have the best laugh, babe.”

“So do you.”

“Yeah, if you like snorting.”

“Of course I do.”

They’re leaning closer, gravitational pull, about to kiss each other again. Their voices are so sappy and flirty. Lucretia loves it.

“Yeah, you would say tha—at.” Lup yawns mid-word. Lucretia giggles again at the sight. Lup has no right to be this adorable.

“Are you tired?” she asks, and Lup shakes her head as if the notion is ridiculous.

“No way, elves don’t sleep.”

“You and Taako sleep all the time.” Lucretia’s hands have migrated to Lup’s neck. She reaches a thumb up to massage under Lup’s earlobe, and she leans into the touch, eyes slipping closed. Seeing Lup so tired reminds her that she’s tired too, and a yawn escapes her too.

“Let’s get this makeup off and we can go to bed,” Lucretia says.

They do, taking the time to wipe it all off, still lazily kissing in between. After that Lucretia stays in Lup’s room, only leaving to grab a cap for her hair.

Is it… weird to share a bed with your girlfriend after just getting together? Are they even girlfriends? Sometimes people make out and it goes nowhere, is that this? She certainly doesn’t want it to be.

But those are questions for the morning. Right now, Lup is snuggling up to her, pulling the covers up to their shoulders. She buries her head in Lucretia’s shoulder, taking a deep breath in. Lucretia holds her close, running fingers through her hair as it’s falling out of its braid.

The lights stay on, the heat stays on, the music stays on. In this perfect atmosphere, with a perfect girl in her arms, Lucretia falls asleep thinking maybe she’s perfect too.

#taz #taz balance #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #lupcretia #i will revive the tag with my bare wlw hands #balance #lucretia #lup #txt #writing

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ayellowcurtain · 4 years

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Sander and Robbe's mom meet each other in the mental institution and Sander talks about his love for this boy and Robbe's mom is amused, because she knows who he is talking about because Robbe already told her // - Maybe Britt came up to them and start on Robbe and then the boys get on her and make her actually see what she did was wrong? // - Sander drawing Robbe's face on Art therapy class in the hospital and Robbe's mom sees it and she gets to know their story through Sander's eyes. And then Robbe goes to see her tomorrow, comes out to her and she tells him she had already met his handsome boyfriend and is so approving and gives him the talk that Sander is not his mi // - or basically a redo of the hotel night where both claim the night back. // - Can you write about Sander meeting Robbe's mom and dad

There’s a part 2 coming later.

“You shouldn’t have listened to her, Robbe.” Jens says as they see Britt walking past them, giving Robbe another one of those looks like he took her favorite toy away from her. Jens says it way louder than needed and Robbe sees how Britt looks back and stares at him.

Robbe sighs, holding the strap of his bag tighter. He shouldn’t have listened to her, but now he already did. It’s too late and it’s been months. Sander must hate him now, think he gave up on them just because Sander is bipolar when that’s not at all the case.

“Yeah, it’s too late now so just leave it.” Robbe doesn’t intend to be rude, but maybe Jens notices how his voice changes as he walks away, leaving the school, thinking Jens will follow him out, maybe they can go eat something, take Robbe’s head off of Sander and Britt.

As he steps outside, his phone starts vibrating inside his pocket. For some dumb reason Robbe will never say it out loud, he was already holding his phone, hoping he would receive an unexpected message from Sander so he unlocks his phone instantly, almost shoving his phone back inside his pocket when he sees it’s his mom sending him messages, not Sander.

Hello, my love.

How are you? I hope you’re well.

I need to talk to you about something important...can you call me? Whenever you get this message.

Love you

Robbe wishes he didn’t open the messages so he could get some time to call back later, but now it’s done and he’s worried. What’s so important they have to talk about?

As he’s calling her, hoping this is not to talk about his dad, he turns back around, looking for Jens and he’s finally coming to meet Robbe, but he keeps looking back.

“What are you doing?” Jens is frowning, clearly thinking about something, still looking back every few seconds.

“I’m going to talk to Britt, man. It’s been months, she can’t go on looking with that bitchy face at you for the rest of her life.”

“No. Jens, you don’t have to-” Robbe whispers, trying to pay attention to his phone call too.

“Hello?” His mom finally picks up but at the worst timing. He tries to stop Jens from going, but he’s already rushing back inside and Robbe needs to talk to his mom.

“Hey, mom…” He says absently as he watches Jens run upstairs where they saw Britt minutes ago.

“Hi, sweetheart!” She sounds like what Robbe remembers of her before the divorce. Happy and light and with the softest, most warm and welcoming voice. It makes him really forget about Jens and the Britt drama, focusing on his mom again.

“Everything ok? You said you needed to talk to me.” Robbe adjusts his jacket on his shoulder, starting to slowly walk to his bike.

“Yes, yes. Hm, you know I’ve made a friend here at the hospital a few months ago. A lovely woman. I thought she was staying here too, but then I saw her dropping someone else. Anyway, her son is doing therapy here and we did some experimental art class here and he’s so good, Robbe. He draws like a real artist.”

He sighs as he waits for the street light to turn red. Robbe loves his mom, but he’s really not in the mood to have a long phone call right now, but he doesn’t say anything, just let her talk. He tries not to think about how his lack of excitement is because this conversation is making him think of Sander. How Robbe decided to believe Britt’s words and how he gave up after days of reaching out with no response. He should have tried harder, but it’s too late now.

“And we were talking about his art classes and even when we were talking, he kept drawing and just like magic, in an instant, I recognized his drawing.”

“W-what?” Robbe should have paid attention to what she was talking about, now he’s a little lost, finally managing to unlock his bike.

“I asked his name, he’s around your age. And he said his name was Sander.”

Robbe drops his lock, suddenly very aware of the conversation he’s having.

“Sander?” He checks with her.

“Yes, my love. Sander. And he was drawing you. I know I haven’t been as present this last few months, but I’m sure I would recognize your face anywhere. It’s such a beautiful love story.”

Robbe feels his knees buckle, leaning against the railing. Sander told his mom about them without knowing. His mom knows he’s gay. If they ever meet, Sander will recognize his mom.

“Mom…”

“Robbe, listen to your mom for once. It’s a beautiful love story. He’s so handsome, son, and so incredibly thoughtful. That’s all that matters. And from what I gathered, there’s some issue between you two, but whatever it is, I hope you’re thinking about yourself first and you’re worrying about the important things. Not about things that can be handled. It’s not often that people find their person, Robbe. Sander is special, he’s so full of life and he has so many layers. You deserve someone like him.”

Robbe covers his eyes with his hand, still listening to his mom talk about the love of his life like they’re actually friends and it’s fucking Robbe’s brain.

“Mom, I love you. I have to go, ok? But I’ll try to stop by tomorrow and we’ll talk. I love you.” He hangs up before it’s too late, knowing she won’t mind too much about it.

As he’s biking across the city, he has a lot of time to think of everything his mom just said to him.

Sander still thinks about them, he’s still drawing Robbe even after six months of no contact.

He has to stop for a second, scrolling through his phone gallery to find the picture he took of the note Sander left inside his shoe one day.

It’s a long bike ride, but it’s perfect to calm Robbe’s nerves. He’s sure it’s too late, but his mom gave him a whole lot of courage and so he just needs to try it. Robbe takes a picture of the front of the hotel, looking at it for a second, sending before he can talk himself out of it.

(photo)

I know I don’t have any right to ask you this, but I’m here. Can we meet?

Their first night at this hotel was the best night of Robbe’s life. In the end he felt dumb and insecure, but Britt’s words about Sander’s feelings didn’t turn that memory into a bad one for Robbe.

He had worse nights, so much worse.

As he waits outside, Robbe is not sure if Sander will actually come, but he is more than ready to wait for long, painful hours for an answer.

There’s no way to guess from which side of the street Sander might come, so Robbe keeps checking both ways. When he sees the platinum hair and the leather jacket, pink cheeks from biking through the cold wind, parking his bike just a few meters to the left, Robbe is instantly too nervous.

So he looks again to make sure that Sander is seeing him and he gets inside the hotel, waiting for the other one in the hall. Sander enters the hotel a minute later, looking skeptical, his eyes wandering around the room like he’s never been here before.

“...What…” Before he can ask anything, Robbe shows him the card.

“The penthouse suite.” He knows he’s pushing it, they haven’t seen each other in months and here Robbe is, imitating a night where they had lots of sex. His first intention isn’t to repeat that night, he’ll take whatever Sander is willing to offer, the plan is just to talk. If they’re done, Robbe needs to a least be sure he tried everything and that Britt wasn’t in the middle of them, that breaking up was their choice.

He holds Sander’s hand without thinking too much about it first, but Sander holds his hand back and Robbe almost stops walking to just look at their hands back together. He misses Sander more than he’ll ever be able to admit to himself or to Sander.

The walk to the penthouse feels so long, longer than the first time, but Robbe doesn’t let go of Sander’s hand, struggling to find the room because his brain is shorted. Sander is the one to point at the right door and Robbe leads them there, letting go of Sander’s hand when he has to use both hands to unlock and open the door, letting Sander in.

Robbe didn’t have much time to think of what would happen after this. He thought about what his mom told him and about reaching out, but there wasn’t enough time to decide what to do if Sander came to meet him today.

His brain can’t seem to function when Sander is right in front of him again after long, painful months. Robbe can’t control how he feels about Sander and how much he can be dependent on his kisses and touches.

“Robbe…”

“I just need you.” It’s what Robbe manages to say and when Sander tries to step forward to walk away from Robbe, maybe go explore the room, Robbe quickly puts one hand on his hip, keeping him against the door.

“Robbe…!” Sander says more firmly this time, but he stays where Robbe keeps him, watching as Robbe kneels in front of him, trying not to think on how desperate he looks, definitely avoiding to think Sander might stop him and say he doesn’t want it and Robbe will be there, on his knees, being rejected.

#wtfock #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #robbe x sander #sobbe

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wolftraps · 4 years

Note

"They’ve got one single person who is Desolation + the End (an orphan Daisy found in the burned out shell of a house that they all sort of co-raised...)" Oh I'd love to hear more about them. Both in the Institute family accidentally an entire baby sense and in the WOW is this the wrong person to have mad at you sense. Give them a touch of the Hunt and they're deadlier than any Slaughter. (Course, thats what mum's for.)

Right, so, uh, I didn’t mean to write so much. But I guess that’s the story of Reverb. So, here’s 2500 words of Daisy and Jon raising a monster, I guess?

Basira finds the lead. There have been rumors that the Lightless Flame is trying to create a new Agnes. Jon thinks they may already have. He doesn’t Know, but his attempts to do so gave him a nasty sunburn for a couple hours, so he passed it off to them instead. Almost everyone involved in Agnes’s birth and childhood are gone, but there are still a couple known contacts, and at this point, Daisy can usually just follow the smell of burning.

It’s Basira who finds the lead, though, and takes them up to a tiny town about 100km north of Glasgow.

To what was a tiny town north of Glasgow. Most of it isn’t even smoking anymore by the time they get there. If anyone survived, they’ve already fled. All except for one. There’s no sound that gives them away. No crying or screams. Daisy just follows the scent of smoke to the epicenter of the destruction, and huddled in the middle of the burned out shell of a house, with their head buried in their knees, is a child.

Her first step into the building disturbs some rubble, just enough to get the child’s attention without immediately prompting an attack. Their head snaps up, and they may not be crying now, but the redness of their eyes says they have been.

“Daisy,” Basira warns as she takes a step closer, and Daisy motions for her to keep back.

Another step, the child tenses. Another, they still don’t attack. Another. Another. When she’s finally only a couple meters away, the kid makes ready to run. So that’s where Daisy stops, and sits down amid the rubble and ash.

“Hi,” she says softly. “I’m not here to hurt you. My name is Daisy.”

No response.

“Can you tell me your name?”

Nothing.

“That’s alright. You can tell me when you’re ready.” Daisy slowly gestures at the destruction around them. “I’m going to take a guess and say you did this.” The child tenses. “Also going to guess you didn’t mean to.” They stare at her suspiciously for another few seconds and then jerkily shake their head.

“That’s okay,” Daisy reassures them. “I understand. I’m going to sit here as long as you need to feel comfortable, okay? You can talk when you’re ready, but I’m only here to help.” Their eyes flick briefly to Basira, still standing just outside the demolished wall. “That’s my partner, Basira. She’s not going to hurt you either. She’ll stay right there unless you say she can come in.”

And so they stay for another twenty minutes, sitting in silence.

“D-Daisy?” the child says eventually, their voice cracking and hoarse from smoke.

“I’m here.”

“You… don’t really look like a Daisy.” Daisy laughs.

“My real name is Alice.”

“You don’t look like an Alice, either.”

“Yeah. I didn’t really like it. Daisy’s better.” They nod.

“I’m… I’m Shay.”

“Hi, Shay. Good to meet you.”

“I… I really didn’t mean to,” they say, and their shoulders shake, but there are no tears. Daisy suspects they may be too dehydrated. “I just… I just wanted to see. And- and then I couldn’t stop it. And everyone was screaming! And- and-”

“Shh-shh. It’s okay, Shay. Can I come closer?” Shay nods and Daisy moves slowly, no sudden movements, until she sits again at Shay’s side. “I’d like to hug you, if that’s okay.”

“I- I don’t-”

“That’s fine too. I’m right here. However you need me.” Shay studies her for a long moment, barely breathing, and then a sob wracks through them and they’re buried in her side.

“I didn’t mean to!”

“I know. It’s okay. I know.” She rocks them gently until the shaking stops.

“What’s going to happen to me now?”

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to take you home now.”

“Your home?”

“My home.”

“With you and Basira.”

“With us, and my friend Jon. And Martin and Sasha. Our whole little family. And yours if you want it.”

“A child,” Georgie says incredulously. “Someone gave you a child?”

“Technically, Daisy acquired a child. I thought it best they learn in a more stable environment. Also they’re almost eleven. It’s not like we’re trying to raise a toddler in the Archives.”

“I’m not sure that’s better, Jon.” The child in question side-eyes them, but says nothing, just continues to sort papers. “They’re very quiet.”

“Now,” Jon scoffs a bit. “There was a bit of a row earlier, and a yell that may have spawned a small tornado. Shay is cleaning up the mess they created, in silence, or they won’t be going out with Sasha tomorrow to witness Hurricane Gabrielle hit Florida.” He meets Shay’s glare with a flat stare of his own. Stubborn ten-year-olds have a remarkable ability to not be intimidated by staring, though they still break first, with a touch of an embarrassed blush.

“Jon! They’re a child.”

“Georgie! They’re not human. And I’m certainly not going to push them to pick a second patron at this age, so I would rather they participate in events that will occur anyway than for them to start blowing things up near our home.”

“So if they don’t behave, you’ll starve them.” The glare Jon aims at her has her taking a step back. It’s not often Jon aims any of his powers at Georgie, but it’s abundantly clear that that isn’t something she should have said.

“If they don’t behave, they will be taken to northern Georgia, where the hurricane will likely cause serious flooding, but little irreparable damage. They’re already Desolation, Georgie, and I am not going to punish them for living.”

“Shay.”

“Oh, uh, hey, mum! W-what’s up?”

“Explain.”

“I’m just… protesting? Oh, come on! We’ve been careful. Minor injuries and some lingering trauma only. And you can’t tell me some of these assholes don’t deserve it!”

Daisy looks at them sternly for a good half minute, just enough to let them squirm.

“You’re targeting the wrong pressure points. And his lordship is over there,” she points to the building currently behind Shay, right on the edge of the localized earthquake they have going.

“Oh. Oops.”

“If you want to level the building three down from that, I won’t complain. Got a Stranger I’ve been after for a while squatting there.”

“Aww.”

“Don’t.”

“What? I think it’s sweet you still bring him Strangers for their anniversary!”

“You want pointers or not?”

“Not saying another word. What’s the secret to efficiently destroying a building?”

Jon finds them in the tunnels, sitting against a wall, wrapped around Patrząc. He sits beside them, just close enough to brush arms. Even then, he can feel the heat coming off them. Not burning, but feverish at least, if they were capable of having fevers.

Neither of them say a word for several minutes.

“I keep trying to cry,” Shay says, soft and flat. “I want to. I- I really fucked up this time, but I just… can’t. I can feel them, their terror, and… I can feel when it stops. Every single one, it feels like i’m being dropped into ice water, but I’ve been burning so hot, it feels more like a balm. I… I know we’re not human, but shouldn’t- shouldn’t I be sad? Or… something?”

Jon leans his head back against the wall and considers. “I- spent a lot of my youth blaming myself for… everything, really. It took me a long time to accept that ‘you always have a choice’ and ‘some things are beyond your control’ aren’t mutually exclusive. Just because there is a choice, doesn’t mean it could’ve gone any other way than how it did.”

“Didn’t you literally go back in time to change everything?”

“Yes. And I changed… a lot. It was hard to think of it that way at the time. Back then, it seemed like no matter what I did, everything was still going to go wrong. Some people probably would’ve been… No, no one would’ve been better off. Not in the end. That’s what I still have trouble remembering. We told you I came back because the world ended.”

“Yeah? Because of Jonah Magnus. You came back to kill him, so it didn’t happen.”

“I’m the one who ended it.”

“Wh- wait, what? But you…”

“We tried to run away, but I was too much the Archivist to go without statements. Basira sent us some, but Jonah slipped one in, and it held the words to perform the ritual. By the time I realized what it was, I couldn’t stop reading. It wasn’t a choice I deliberately made, but I ended the world.”

“Oh… fuck.”

“Heh. Yeah. And still, I wouldn’t have come back- I wouldn’t have been able to come back- if Martin hadn’t been killed.”

“I don’t-”

“Do you know about Agnes?”

“Agnes… Montague? I read some of the statements, why?”

“If Daisy never found you. If you were raised by the Lightless Flame. You were meant to be her replacement. Your birth was orchestrated to bring about the apocalypse in the image of Desolation.”

“… Oh.”

“Agnes was conflicted. She had doubts. Eventually, she decided she couldn’t do it. She told them to hang her, so her spark would return to the fires of Desolation and they could try again.”

“… Oh.”

“Do you know the difference between you and her?”

“She chose not to destroy the world and I’m going to do it by accident?”

“No. It’s the same as the difference between timelines for me. The people around Agnes made her choose between dying and ending the world. The difference is that your family would never want you to do either.”

“I… Jon- Dad- There- there are still so many lives being lost. Because of me. And-”

“And you can feel them. Yes. You said it doesn’t feel bad. Does it feel good?”

“Wh- Um… Not- not especially? Mostly it just… is. It’s almost like… part of me wants to be satisfied, but instead I’m just numb.”

“That’s probably the best we could hope for.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know. I’ll do my best to explain. We should go back up, though. Your mother is being gruff, but it’s because she’s worried about you.” Jon starts to lever himself up but is stopped by a warm grip on his arm.

“Could- could we stay down here, just a bit longer? The- the cold feels nice.” Jon smiles softly and sits and lets them lean in to rest their head on his shoulder, even though they’ve got enough height on him it can’t be comfortable. The two of them won’t be able to sit here forever. A fretting Daisy is already wearing a hole in the floor of the Archives with her pacing. And it’s unlikely the forest fire is going to go out without some supernatural intervention. He remembers this feeling, though, and how much he depended on Martin’s support.

He can give them this, for a little while longer, and then he’ll call Oliver Banks.

Ethan has been at the Institute for half a year when he finally meets Jon’s kid. They’re… a lot livelier than he expected. They blow through the Archives like a whirlwind (and, in fact, may spawn a small one, though it only disturbs some of the discredited statements, so it’s not like it matters), and almost slide into a seat across from Jon.

“Mum says you have something for me,” they say, practically bouncing. “What is it? What is it?”

“Hello, Shay. Lovely to see you too. I’m doing just swell, thanks for asking. How are you?”

“Oh please, you know exactly how i’m doing. But… yes, hi Jon, I missed you too.” Ethan has never once had any cause to doubt his mother’s love, but he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look at him with half as much fondness as Jon looks at Shay. Though, in fairness, that’s probably because he’s a bit too close to the situation with his own mum. “Soooo?”

“The Vast.”

“Oooh, that’s a new one. I thought Martin still had a pretty good hold on the Fairchilds.”

“Simon is trying his hand at space exploration again and won’t answer our calls. Helena says this new avatar isn’t a Fairchild and has no stake in our alliance.”

“Is she telling the truth?”

“Unfortunately. Kinsey Harris is a former RAF pilot. In 2031, there was a malfunction and his plane went down. He did not. In August of 2032, he came to the Blackwood Institute and made a statement. Ethan?”

Jon has been doing this more and more lately, quizzing Ethan on case numbers. Sometimes he remembers from his searches through old statements, sometimes he doesn’t. On at least two occasions, though, he’s known without ever seeing it.

“Umm… 07.2031.2032/08/14… I/L/R?” Jon nods, and Ethan tries not to look too proud of himself.

“New guy?” Shay asks, looking him over. They had clearly missed him in their sprint to Jon’s office.

“Not that new,” Jon scoffs.

“Jon.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t need to! Martin and Mum and even Sasha did it for you! I’m pretty sure Sasha doesn’t know what year it is half the time, let alone how long it’s been since I last visited the Institute.”

“Sasha knows what year it is at least 86% of the time, and she knows when it’s been too long since you came home.”

“Can’t we go back to you asking me to kill a guy? That conversation was a lot more fun.” Jon stares at them until they start to squirm, just a little, and Ethan’s spent enough time with him that he’s pretty sure he can see Jon fighting a smirk.

“Kinsey took one of our HR employees, Buried-aligned. She was missing for a week before she crash-landed in the front hall. Now one of our library staff, Len, Pitch, is gone.” All of Shay’s fidgeting has stopped, and there’s a sense of… something in the Archives. Static tension. The calm before a storm.

“Right. Give me everything you have on him.”

“Ethan has been collecting it all. He can fill you in while you grab something from the canteen.”

Shay doesn’t so much roll their eyes as their whole head. “You cannot judge me for skipping a couple meals. I was busy.”

“I can and I will. Go. Eat lunch. And we will see you for dinner later.”

For a second it looks like there’s going to be an argument, but Shay stops before saying anything. “Who’s cooking?” they ask. Jon really does smirk now.

“Georgie and I are making curry.”

“Yessss. Okay. I’ll see you later. Love you!” They drop a kiss on Jon’s cheek and then Ethan is being pulled up the stairs by someone with Jon’s intensity and Ms. Tonner’s feral energy and he wonders if maybe he should be worried, but doubts he’s going to have much time for that.

#daisy tonner #jonathan sims #my writing #my tma fic #reverb ficlet #shay tonner #reverb #not a sad #ethan herne #the reverb in these holy halls #tma #Anonymous #you asked

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underoossss · 5 years

Text

Cappuccinos - H.O

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x reader

Coffee Shop AU

Summary: 3 times Harrison tries to ask you out and one time you ask him.

AN: Hello everyone! Guess who’s back with a one shot! ME! This is for @hollandsosterfield ‘s writing challenge with the prompt “Can you give me a knife for my birthday? So I can stab you with it?

---

The sound of the coffee grinder and the chatter of distant conversations from some customers sitting by the window surround Harrison as he takes his 15thorder of the day. “So you have a large iced coffee with three shots of caramel, a croissant and an apple. Is that everything for you today?” He asks the woman standing in front of him who nods as she fishes out her wallet from her purse. “That’d be $7.25. Can I have your name for the order?”

“Dorothy.” She says, showing him her debit card so that Harrison can prompt the purchase on the machine in front of her. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He smiles, handing her a receipt and moving to take a croissant from the pastries display for her. He puts it in a baking tray and places it on the toaster oven for a bit to warm it up. “There’s a croissant in the oven, Will.”

“Okay.” His friend nods as he finishes two orders and proceeds to call the person’s name over the counter. “Two mocca’s for Lilly?”

Harrison lets out a deep breath, looking around the shop. The 7am rush hour had come to an end, leaving only Dorothy who waits for her iced latte and a group of three sitting by the window. They look like they’re finishing up a presentation, all their laptops propped on the antique cream coffee table in front of them. After his brief scan of the room, he glances up at the clock propped on the wall. 8:05, the next rush of students going to their 8:30 class will come by soon enough. The thought makes Harrison’s hands sweat so he focuses on the smell of freshly baked blueberry scones coming from the kitchen. Y/N, comes by at 8:10am every day, orders a coffee and sometimes grabs a fruit from the display basket before rushing to class. She’s from the Art Institute a few blocks away and Harrison’s been crushing on her from the moment she stepped into the coffee shop on a Monday 4 months ago. He believes she’s an architect, always carrying plans and drawing buildings on the coffee table by the turquoise sofa next to the chimney.

The sound of the bell hanging over the door makes him look up to see you enter the coffee shop. A strong wind had blown your scarf out of place and you fix it while walking to the register. “Hey, Haz. How’s it going.” You set a large binder on the counter for a second, shaking your arms when they get some rest.

“Good morning.” He smiles back. “What can I get for you today?”

“A medium cappuccino with some cinnamon on top, please. Oh, and a banana muffin.” Your eyes light up when you spot the freshly baked muffins on the pastry display on your right.

Harrison smiles, your smile almost lighting up the whole shop. After a few seconds, he shakes himself out of his daze and puts one of the muffins in a paper bag that he hands to you. “That’s gonna be $5.”

You place the paper bag on top of your binder before reaching inside your tote bag for your wallet. After you pay, Harrison smiles and moves over to the expresso machine ignoring Will’s knowing look when he starts to make your drink. Shot of expresso, steam the milk, and foam. Harrison hums as he prepares the drink, the delicious smell of coffee flooding his senses. When the drink is ready he puts the white lid on top where he writes your name with a flower next to it, the way he’s always done it from day one. It’s been months, ask her out already! “So, um, I was wondering.” Harrison places the coffee on the counter but stops talking when he sees you’re on the phone. Your forehead is creased, confused, as someone speaks on the other end.

“What do you mean he’s picking up the assignment already? It’s not 8:30 yet!” You look up and smile at Harrison, getting your coffee and mouthing a quick thank you to him.

Damnit.

“Harrison, it’s been months of you pining over her.” Will rolls his eyes when he spots Harrison staring at the door expectantly the next day. A large batch of customers had just left a couple of minutes ago, so him and Will were enjoying a little peace before the 8:30am rush arrives. “Just ask for her number, you should see the way she looks at you.”

Harrison lets out a laugh, “There’s no way that she looks at me. I’m just the part time barista that makes her coffee and she’s nice.” His fingers fiddle with the pocket of his turquoise apron as he waits for you to walk through that door.

“The arts university is blocks away and she can easily go to the Starbucks next to it, and yet she chooses to come here every day.” Will insists as he cleans the countertops and puts some of the espresso cups in the dishwasher.

“It’s probably more crowded over there, that’s all.” Harrison shrugs, moving the gaze to the clock on his right. 8:10.

The doorbell dings as another group of people enter the coffee shop, you among them. This time though, there’s a guy next to you, his arm around your shoulder; he’s laughing at something you said. “There’s no way the dean said that Y/N.” Tom shakes his head.

Harrison feels his shoulders sag but he puts on a fake smile for the customers standing in front of him. He should’ve known, he probably wasn’t the only one crushing on you, you’re funny and kind and so hardworking. There’s been days you’ve stayed at the coffee shop studying until closing time, losing track of time as you go through your schoolwork. Harrison has the proof he needs now, to support the already known fact that his own nerves prevented him from even getting your number on time.

“I’m telling you Tom, you’re 100% suspended for traveling to England in the middle of the semester.” You chuckle as you step up to the cashier, your turn to order. “Hey, Haz! Good morning.” Your smile is bright but the one Harrison gives you in return doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His heart is still in the process of breaking but he clears his throat, ignoring the way you tilt your head in confusion.

“Hi Y/N, a cappuccino today?” He grabs a sharpie so he can write your usual order on the paper cup before looking up again.

“Yes please, and a-”

“And a large caramel latte for me, please.” The guy next to her, Tom, smiles. “You getting something to eat, love?”

Love.

“No I’m good. Just those two drinks Haz, thank you.”

“No problem.” He smiles, but it feels forced. His chest feels heavy and he chastises himself again for taking so long.

“I hope you’re having a nice day so far.” You comment, a little weary, and you take out a $20 bill from your back pocket. Your eyes are darting across his face, like you can tell something’s off with his mood.

“I am, thanks. You?” He hands Tom’s cup to Will in a silent request that his friend doesn’t question. He then proceeds to make yours after he gives you your change back.

“Yeah, me too.” You nod, moving to the pickup area and pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You’re wearing a rust color sweater today, your hands hidden inside the sleeves and Harrison thinks it’s the most endearing thing in the world.

“Of course you are, I’m back.” Tom says making you roll your eyes and Harrison has to bite the inside of his cheek to avoid giving away how awfully awkward he feels. Stop crushing on this guy’s girlfriend, idiot. He writes your name on the lid before drawing a small smiley face on it, instead of the usual flower. She probably won’t notice anyway.

“Here you go.” He says, placing your cup on the counter and regretting not drawing the flower on it when he sees you frown for a brief second.

“Thanks, Haz.” You mumble, averting your gaze from him and heading to the door.

“See ya!” Tom says as he follows you.

“See you…”

“EVERYONE! IT’S THIS BEAUTIFUL LADY’S, WHO ALSO HAPPENS TO BE MY BEST FRIEND, BIRTHDAY TODAY!” Tom all but yells when he enters the coffee shop with you by his side at 8:10am the next day. You cover your face in embarrassment.

“Can you get me a knife for my birthday, so I can stab you with it?” You say rolling your eyes at him but smiling anyway.

Harrison is frozen in place for a second, was he really that lucky and that stupid? Best friend. Not girlfriend. He had been so wrong! He drew a stupid smiley face on your coffee for a stupid assumption he had made. “God I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah, you are.” Will chuckles to his right, holding his hands up when Harrison glares at him. “Wait, I wasn’t supposed to comment on that?”

Harrison shakes his head, getting a chocolate cake pop from the glass display and handing it to you when you reach the cashier. “Happy birthday, Y/N.” He smiles, because he’s ecstatic, he hasn’t lost his chance.

Giving you a cake pop brings back the memory of his failed attempt at flirting about a month back. You had been studying until late on a Thursday night, the same day he was covering for Andrea who had an important exam to study for. Harrison had thought it was fate that you two had seen each other on the same day twice; something that never happens. So as they started to clean up the counters and packing leftover pastries up, he put a single double chocolate chip cookie on a plate and walked over to where you sat. You smiled and tried to pay for it; he argued that since they were closing, it was no problem at all.

“Is this your way of kicking me out?” You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on your face that makes Harrison scramble for words.

“N-no, no! That’s not what I meant! You just order them often and-” He held his hands up, the last thing he wanted was for you to think he was kicking you out. Why did he mention the shop closing?

“Hey, it’s okay I’m only teasing you.” You chuckled, stopping his rambling.

You smile in surprise again at the sight of the cake pop. “Harrison, thank you.” The look in your eyes is soft and Harrison’s stomach does a backflip.

“It’s your birthday, it’s on the house!” He smiles back, the smile is so wide his cheeks start to hurt. The relief of knowing he still has a chance and the fact that it’s your birthday, fills him with happiness. In his opinion birthdays are always special, no matter whose birthday it is, without birthdays you wouldn’t be standing in front of him making his morning better every day.

You take the cake pop and thank him again before ordering yours and Tom’s coffee. They go through the usual conversation: Cappuccino? Yes, please. And a large iced coffee? Yup. When you pay and he gives you your change, he decides to keep the conversation going. “Any plans for you birthday?” He asks, writing the orders on their respective cups. Maybe if you’re free he can ask you to hang out.

“Yes. Actually I-”

“Would you mind? You’re holding up the line!” An old lady behind you makes you and Tom jump, giving Harrison an apologetic look. He had been so caught up on his feelings and staring at you that he didn’t realize the second rush of customers had arrived and were waiting in line.

“A bit moody…” Tom mutters under his breath and Harrison couldn’t agree more.

“Sorry ma’am.” Harrison says, trying to go for an innocent smile to ease her mood. The last thing he needed was a rude customer ruining his morning. “Have a nice day, Y/N.”

You smile at him again, moving over to the pick up counter. “You too, Haz.” You give him one last look over your shoulder before going back to talking to Tom.

Another chance missed. He couldn’t even make her coffee for you, he’s so stupid for taking so long. “What can I get for you ma’am?”

It’s 3:47pm when Harrison hears the bell over the door ring, signaling someone entering the coffee shop. Het sets down the expresso cups he was rearranging and looks up to see who it is. Y/N. Since breakfast and lunch time had already passed, the shop was mostly quiet and Harrison was the only one working outside. He fixes his apron as he walks to the cashier and clear his throat before he smiling. Why are my hands so sweaty? If they could stop sweating, that’d be great.

“Hello, you’re still here.” You say as you approach him, fixing the tote bag on your shoulder. You’re wearing a blue sweater today. It has a couple of flowers embroidered on the cuffs and Harrison thinks it’s really nice.

“Hey, Y/N. A second coffee?” Harrison leans his hands on the counter next to the register. It’s only the two of us, don’t screw it up.

“I have a long night at the university’s library. I work today of all days.” You nod your head and sigh. “But it’s okay, it’ll give me time to get some assignments done.”

Harrison gives you a sympathetic smile, working late on your birthday doesn’t sound like fun at all. “Well, at least you’re looking at the bright side of it.” He shrugs and picks up a sharpie and a medium paper cup. “Your usual?”

“Yes please, but let’s spice it up. Normal coffee for work feels a bit too boring.” You smile at him before looking at the drink menu.

“Pumpkin spice?” Harrison suggests.

You chuckle and shake your head then make up your mind a second later. “Let’s go with salted caramel.”

“You got it.” Harrison winks. He actually winks. That was probably so lame…He feels his cheeks burn in embarrassment and he gives you a shy smile as you hand him the money to pay for your drink. A few moments later both of you move to the pick up area; you lean against the counter watching Harrison work on the coffee.

This is it. There’s no one else ordering coffee. Ask her! Now!

“So I was wondering if you’d like to hang out sometime? Maybe go for a picnic?” Harrison says at the same time you speak up as well.

“I’m having a small gathering tomorrow for my birthday. I was wondering if you wanted to come?”

Both of you look up at the same time, and it’s not awkward at all; it’s only funny. What are the odds that you two choose to ask the other out at the same time? So Harrison chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “You go first.”

“I’m having a small gathering with a couple of friends tomorrow for my birthday. Would you like to come?” Your hands tap the counter, probably out of nerves, and Harrison finds it comforting. He’s not the only one that’s nervous.

“I’d love to.” He beams, his heart drumming incessantly on his chest. She asked me out! And to her birthday!

“Really? Awesome!” You smile, biting your lip to tone down your excitement. “And I’m free on Saturday, for that picnic?” Your head tilts to the right in question. As if Harrison would pass up any opportunity to get to know you better.

“I-I’m free too, yeah that’d be really nice.” Harrison nods, he remembers the cup of coffee in his hand and quickly puts a lid on it before it gets cold. This time though, he draws a little heart on it instead of a flower and he can’t help but feel incredibly happy when you smile at the sight of it.

“I, um, I need your phone number.” You say smiling at him, suddenly looking shy once again.

“Oh! Right!” Harrison’s cheeks turn pink once again as he looks around for somewhere to write. He spots the cookies on the display and smiles; he places a double chocolate one on a paper bag and writes his phone number on it along with his name. “Here you go.”

“Awesome.” You smile, taking it. “You didn’t have to give me a cookie, though.”

“I know but I wanted to, it’s your birthday.” Harrison shrugs. “And I know you love them so.”

“Fine.” You chuckle, putting the bag inside your tote and getting ready to leave. “I’ll text you then. Have a nice afternoon, Haz.”

“Bye, Y/N.” Harrison waves. YES!

If any of the clients saw Harrison celebrate by the espresso machine, they didn’t comment on it. There were usual customers anyways, they knew how badly those two have been crushing on each other.

Tagging: @parrkerspeters @parkerpuffwrites @hollandharrison @lovestrucktom @sincerelymlg @fairydustparker 💕

#harrison osterfield #haz osterfield #harrison osterfield x reader #haz x reader #coffee shop au #pauwrites

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imaginesmai · 5 years

Text

Jace Wayland-W for Weak

This was requested by an anon! The original post was W for Weak (they break down in front of you). But I got carried away and turned it into something little different. If you don’t like it, I don’t mind doing it again!

Maybe I will post a second part, a happier one. But this is a request of a angst alphabet, so of course is sad. Also, it’s cliffhanger.

Plot: your relationship with Jace is on edge, so you decided to wait and see if things get better. Not knowing that waiting can be your death sentence.

Warning: SAD SAD, LIKE A LOT OF ANGST. If you have read my work Lagertha’s Daughter (Ubbe), it’s that kind of angst. Anyway, be careful. Blood, injuries. Mention of cheating.

You were angry, and in a way, you had every right to be. Jace Wayland was your boyfriend, and you were happy with that. He was kind, funny, thoughtful and devilish handsome, and you were more than happy with that. However, you weren’t happy with the fact that Clary saw that side of him too. Since she came to the institute with Jace, she had been taking all his time. She trained with him, spent her breaks with him and followed him everywhere. And it seemed that your boyfriend didn’t have any problem with that. Weeks passed by and the only time you saw Jace was when you two went to sleep; that was if you were lucky and he wasn’t teaching Clary some runes. The red-haired girl was a pain in the ass.

Isabelle was the first one to notice something was off with you. She was your best friend, your parabatai, and even if you were not related by blood, she was your sister. You had been training for God know how long when she found you.

- Do you have a personal problem with that punching bag? -she asked as she came closer. -Or are you thinking about someone else?

- Shut up, Izzy. -you said out of breath, not stopping.

- I hope that’s not me, because you’re going to break it Y/N. -she put a hand on your shoulder. -Maybe you should take a break.

- Maybe you should shut up and let me live in peace. -you shrugged her hand off.

You moved towards the bench where your things were, not looking at Isabelle. Because if you did, you knew you would break down.

- What’s gotten into you? -she frowned, sitting on the bench. -Not even Alec is as rude as you this days.

- I’m not being rude.

- You’re not exactly radiating happiness either. Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?

- It’s nothing, Izzy. -you sighed.

- So there is something. -she smiled. -Is it about Jace? I haven’t seen you together for a while.

- I have things t-

- You’re going to sit with me here and tell me about it. -she interrupted you. -Or I’m going to follow you until you give in.

Knowing that she would make you talk about it sooner or later, you sat beside her and put your elbows on your knees. You put your head between your hands, looking at her with shiny eyes. It was true that you and Jace didn’t even hang out together anymore, what surprised you was that she hadn’t noticed it sooner.

- I don’t know, Izzy. -you whispered. -I’m trying to be a good girlfriend, and I don’t want to be jealous or paranoid, but I just can’t ignore the fact that he is always with her and doesn’t make time for me.

- With Clary? -you nodded, and she sighed. -I could lie to you and say that it isn’t true, but I’ve noticed it too.

- I don’t want to end things with him. -you blinked to keep your tears away.

- Have you talked about it with Jace? -she said, running a hand through your hair.

- I-I’m afraid that if I do, he will tell me he doesn’t love me anymore.

- He does! I swear, Y/N, I’ve known Jace all my life. And he has never been happier than when he’s with you. Jace just need a little remainder of your relationship.

- But I don’t want to be the possessive girlfriend. -you whispered.

- Your birthday is next week, Y/N. -she smiled. -I had something planned, but we can do it other time. Tell him you want to go out to the restaurant you like, and talk about it there.

- I don’t-

- It’s the best idea, Y/N. -Isabelle interrupted you. -Just wait until next Wednesday, I’m sure he will prove you how much he loves you and you will fix things. She’s just a friend.

Maybe she was right, you though. Clary was new in your world, and she needed all the help she could get, with his father and all. Your boyfriend was being a good person, you said to yourself, and he was just helping a friend. After talking with Isabelle for a while, you left the training room smiling for the first time in days. You did your tasks, hanged out with your friends, went on missions and spent as much time as you could with Jace. Waiting until next Wednesday, where everything would be alright again.

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You could hear the shower running as you were reading a book, ready for bed. It was open on the same page since you entered in your room; you were more nervous than ever, since it was Tuesday and tomorrow would be your birthday. You had been away all day in a mission with Alec, so you hadn’t seen Jace. But now, he was in the shower and you were waiting for him to come out. You were going to tell him about the restaurant, and the next morning, you would be in a happy relationship again. Or so you thought.

- Hey babe, didn’t hear you come in. -said Jace, leaving the shower with just a towel. -Where have you been all day?

- I was on a mission with Alec. -you frowned, but then smiled.

You had told him about it a few days ago; it was a long mission, and while you were eating together, you talked about it. Jace was too busy talking with Clary to hear it, it seemed, yet you were happy he noticed your absence.

- And how was it? -he asked as he looked for his clothes.

- It was good, we cleaned the nest of vampires and solved the business with the werewolf. -you said, looking at him as he moved. -And your day? Did you missed me?

- Training with Clary. She’s getting better each day, I’m happy for her. Maybe in a few months she will be as good as we are.

- Yeah. -you said, not missing how he didn’t answer to your second question. -Hey Jace, do you think we can go to Ramsdens? Tomorrow for lunch, maybe?

- Sure. -he kissed your lips before heading to the door.

- Wh-where are you going?

- Clary wants to study some runes, she’s learning to draw some of them. -he explained.

- Bu-

- Don’t wait for me up, babe! -he said as he closed the door.

You kept looking at the door for a few seconds, wondering what had happened. Last year on your birthday, Jace made you stay awake until midnight so he could give you your gift; a little music box with your favourite song and a little tattooed ballerina. You had told him before that you kind of hated how you had always your arms tattooed; it made people look at you and you hated attention. So he spent a week craving himself the little ballerina so she could have runes like you. That year, however, seemed that he didn’t care about the little details.

With a sad sigh, you turned on your side and turned your light off. Tomorrow, you thought to yourself. Tomorrow you would eat in your favourite restaurant and everything would be alright. And with that thought and tears in your eyes, you went to sleep.

You woke up to a snoring Jace. He was shirtless beside you, his body full of experimental runes from Clary. At least he’s with you, you thought. It could be worse. You didn’t expect a bed-breakfast or a bright bouquet of flowers when you woke up; you understood he was tired and wanted to sleep. However, you were a little disappointed because he didn’t open his eyes for you when you left the room.

As Isabelle told you, you waited. Waited all morning to hear his voice behind you, to see him walking down the corridor. You waited as you trained and as you talked to Isabelle; and waited as you received some presents from the brothers. Even Clary, who wasn’t with Jace by chance, wished you a happy birthday when she saw you in the corridor. The only thing you could do was wait until lunch time, where everything would be alright again, right?

- How do I look? -you asked Isabelle, looking at the mirror.

- You look beautiful Y/N. -she smiled as she settled the dress. It was a white short dress with long sleeves, and you thought it was amazing. -What are you going to do to your hair?

- I don’t know, I think I like it the way it is now. -you said, touching it. -I think I’m ready!

- You’re not taking any jacket?

- Come on, Izzy, it’s hot out there!

- Yeah, but you can’t have any weapon with you. -she frowned.

- I’m going to a crowded restaurant with Jace. -you pouted. -If I wear a jacket the dress won’t be so pretty!

- Okay. -she laughed. -Just promise me Jace won’t rip it.

- You’re an idiot.

- What? If I was your boyfriend I would do it!

You rolled your eyes at her, happy to have her as your parabatai. After putting your make up on and grabbing your mobile phone, you gave her a kiss and said goodbye. In your way out, you met with Alec and a very confused Clary, who asked you where you were going.

- I’m going out. -you half-smiled, wondering why she was talking to you. -Why?

- Oh, I just-don’t know, I guess we could spend a little time together? -it came out as a question.

- I repeat my question, why?

- Don’t you want to train or something, Y/N? -Alec tried. -I bet you’re not as good as you used to be.

- We trained together last week, Alec. What’s wrong with you both?

- No-nothing, we’re fine! Fantastic!

- Yeah, I’m going to be late. -you gave them a weird stare. -See you around.

Before they could answer, you walked away, not wanting to be late. You hadn’t really set an hour to be there, but you supposed it was time already. The way there was uneventful; you said hi to some people and smiled until you arrived to the restaurant. You had waited a whole week for that moment, waited so you could talk to Jace and fix things before it was too late. But it seemed that the waiting wasn’t finished. You waited again, one hour then two; and when the kind woman who was next to your desk told you your desk was requested by another couple, you stopped waiting.

With tears in your eyes, you got out the restaurant. It wasn’t like in the romantic movies; it wasn’t raining, it was sunny and it was a good day. And the boy you loved wasn’t waiting for you by the door neither. You had waited a whole week for nothing, you thought. Just as you walked by a narrower street, you waiting was rewarded. But instead of a loving boyfriend offering you apologises, it was a vampire showing you his pointed teeth. And you weren’t wearing a jacket.

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Jace was pacing in your room since the first light in the morning. He was nervous, anxious; he had been preparing this for two weeks now, with the help of Clary. She knew a lot about mundane’s things, and he needed her for your gift. Which, by the way, was nearly finished. He had thought about it nearly a month ago, when you two saw together the stupid mundane film where a girl married her best friend. It was stupid and he didn’t like it, but he was glad he watched it with you. Because he could see how your eyes shined with tears when the guy proposed to her, and how you talked excitedly about it. In the shadow-hunters world, weddings were planned in a different way. So he used Clary’s knowledge about the mundane’s world to make the perfect proposal. The only thing missing were you.

- Maybe she went to the supermarket? -Alec tried. -We’re short of milk.

- Sure, it’s her birthday, and what does she do? Go to buy milk. -Jace scoffed. -It has been four hours, dude.

- I’m sure she will come, Jace. -Clary offered him a shy smile. -And everything is going to be fine.

- Except she says no, of course. -Simon said from the couch.

- Simon!

- What are exactly doing here? -Alec gave him a death glare. -I don’t remember inviting you.

- He needs to hear the good part and the bad one. -he shrugged. -I’m here to show him the second, to prepare him for the worst.

- She’s going to say yes, Jace. -Clary smiled. -You’ve been up all night preparing the glass house, it’s going to be perfect.

Alec’s phone interrupted them, and he excused himself to get it. Jace sighed and looked down; he shouldn’t be so worried, you would probably be fine, lost somewhere with a new book. Those past weeks had been the worst of his life. He knew himself, he couldn’t keep anything from you; so he decided to distance himself and focus only on the proposal with Clary. Maybe it had been a little harsh, yet he found it necessary. The door opened again after an awkward silence.

- Hey Alec, have y-Jace? -her eyes widened. -What are you doing here? And where is Y/N?

- I-I’m waiting for her. -Jace said. -Do you know if she is mad or something?

- Mad? Mad?! -she shouted. -You idiot, you told her you would meet in the Ramsdens! For lunch Jace! Not for dinner!

- What? -Jace moved so he could avoid the book Isabella threw at him. -Izzy, stop! I didn’t-Ow! What are you talk-That hurt! Okay, okay! Stop, enough!

She was then hitting him as he tried to avoid her punches, and it took Simon and Clary to take her off.

- What’s wrong with you, Jace?! -she screamed, trying to break free. -You don’t have enough with cheating on her, you also have to dump her?!

- If you would just-what? -what started as a scream, ended as a broken whisper. -She thinks I’m cheating on her?

- You’re not? -Isabelle stopped moving, surprised by the hurt in his eyes. -Why are you around Clary so much?

- I was planning a proposal. -he whispered, and then sat in the bed again. -Y/N thinks I’m cheating on her?

- W-well, it looked a little suspicious. -Isabelle said.

- He wanted help with the proposal. -Clary explained, as Jace could only look at the ground. -Jace told me Y/N wanted something special, like in the mundane’s films…

- Why were you avoiding her? -she asked, calmer now.

- I knew I couldn’t keep the secret, Izzy. -Jace said. -God, I’m so stupid. I didn’t think it would look like it.

- Yeah, it looked. -she said.

- Where is she now? -Jace looked at her.

- She wanted to talk to you, so she agreed to meet you in the Ramsdens for lunch. -Isabelle looked down. -I suppose she thinks you’ve dumped her.

As Jace’s world was crashing him down, the door opened again, this time by the other sibling. Jace was going to say something, but interrupted himself when he saw the look on his friend’s eyes.

- What’s the matter? -Clary asked.

- The vampire nest Y/N and I cleared yesterday. -he said. -Some of them survived, we don’t know how. And now they’re looking for us.

- I thought-

- She doesn’t have the jacket. -Isabelle interrupted Simon.

- What?

- Oh God, she’s isn’t wearing the jacket, Jace. -she looked at him. -She doesn’t have any weapon with her, and she’s alone.

Have you ever seen a rocket? Well, that day Jace ran faster than that. Before any of them had time to say anything, he had rushed out of the room. Grabbing a few weapons in the way, he left the institute. Jace knew it was risky, and that he should have waited for his friends; but with your life on the line, he wasn’t going to wait.

The first place he went to was the restaurant. He asked for you, giving the kind woman a description, as he regained his breath. She told him you had just left a few minutes ago, and he was kind of relived for that. Jace made his way back to the institute, looking in every corner and alley for you. He searched for a good hour until Isabella caught up with him.

- You can’t just leave like that! -she told him. -We’re all worried-

- This is my fault, Izzy. -he looked at her with tears in his eyes. -I-I try my best to be the best boyfriend, but this is al new to me. Didn’t thought about her feelings.

- Hey, she’s going to understand. -she smiled. -As I told her once, you love her, and she loves you. You’re going to make it through, Jace. You just have to wait.

However, they didn’t have to wait long to find you. It was Isabelle who saw you first. She was asking about you in the flower-shop when she saw it. Your beautiful white dress was a few meters away from her; the vampire had tried to hide your body, yet the white fabric could be seen. She screamed for Jace as she ran towards you, and soon he was by her side.

- No. Please, not this -a soft sob left Jace’s lips, while Isabelle covered her mouth. -No, you can’t do this to me. No! God, Y/N, it’s not fair, no!

- We need to call Magnus. -she whispered.

When they turned you around, the sight was even worse. You had bits in every part of your body, forming bruises covering you whole and, what once had been a beautiful white dress, was then deep red. Jace tried to cover the most important wounds while he heard Izzy talking to Magnus on the phone; the one on your neck, wrist, and collarbone. His tears made everything blurry, and his mind entered in a confused state where the only thing he could do was cry your name and hug your body.

It seemed like hours passed, and when he came back, it was already night. He was sitting on a chair in the medical wig of the institute. His hands were red with your blood, and his clothes stained and dirty. Jace tried to get up, but his legs gave away.

- Hey, hey. -Clary appeared beside him. -Take it easy, Jace. Can you hear me? Do you know who am I?

- Y/N? -he whispered your name, desperate to find you. -Wh-where is Y/N, Clary? What has happened?

- Thank God. -she sighed. -You were in shock, Jace. When we found you, you wouldn’t talk or move. You had been like that for five hours.

- Where is Y/N? -Jace asked again.

- She’s with Brother Enoch. -she looked down.

- Clary, give me a fucking answer! -he screamed, making her jump.

- Y/N has lost a lot of blood, Jace. -Alec said, appearing at his side. -Brother Enoch is trying to take the venom of the fangs out of her without drawing out any more blood. We had to call him because Magnus didn’t know what to do.

- But will she be fine? -he asked, feeling the tears in his eyes again. -Don’t lie to me, please.

- We don’t know. She’s very weak right now, Jace. If she does recover from this, she will be in bed for a long time. Her defences are nearly none.

Jace tried to say something but was interrupted by his own sob. He put his head between his hands, feeling like his chest was drowning under the guilt he felt. Because in his mind, it was all his fault. He had waited for too long.

#shadowhunters imagine #shadowhunters x reader #shadowhunters one shot #shadowhunters angst alphabet #shadowhunter #shadowhunders #jace imagine #jace x reader #jace one shot #jace wayland #jace wayland imagine #jace morgenstern #dominic sherwood #imaginemai #angst alphabet #request #little imagine

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a-lbeit · 4 years

Text

2019: a year in review

a doozy

rang in the new year at jellyrolls in orlando with a complimentary champagne toast, hats and noisemakers, and a round of “auld lang syne,” just as you’re supposed to, ending the night at steak n shake with some of the best people i’ve known. it was a traditional new years, and i couldn’t be more grateful.

watched most of my roommates go back to where they came from--australia, ohio, brazil, hawaii. it was a sad few days when i was alone in the apartment before moving to a new place, continuing on with the college program.

had a visit from my parents and aunt. it was nostalgic, in a way, and i’m so glad they were able to visit me. my aunt has already visited me out here in california, and i hope my parents can make the trip out at some point.

found out that i had been accepted to participate in the college program in disneyland. i remember opening that email at the bus stop after a morning shift at the hotel. it was unthinkable, the idea that california was on my horizon. i hadn’t been that excited about something in a long, long time. in the coming days, i remember researching driving across the country in an old and unreliable car.

finally took the free tour of the wilderness lodge. it certainly held my interest, but i took the information with a grain of salt. it’s still disney, after all.

started hanging out with katie, nicole, and estevan, the first group of people i didn’t live with that i felt close to since high school. going to the parks with them was so pure, the way i picture young people’s experiences at disney world should be like. we went to the butterfly garden at epcot, got food at the flower and garden festival, and watched happily ever after countless times. i’m not often one for that type of shit, usually, but with them, it was incredible.

drove back to charleston on st patrick’s day to see mumford and sons with callie. that was one of the groups i’d always wanted to see, and callie is one of the best people to see a concert with. i’ve said it before, but marcus mumford is one of my favorite celebrity-type people. he seems genuine and personable.

drove back a couple days later and went to bob ross’s grave with katie

the next day, finally bit the bullet and bought a ticket to universal. katie and i had so much fun that day. it was strange being back there and seeing all the changes since i had last been on my senior trip in high school. seeing everything, especially on the universal side, that i had missed or never had time for, was far out.

had a visit from lisa and toby somewhere in there and also from my cousin

went to blizzard beach with katie and nicole

went to clearwater beach with katie, nicole, and estevan. i found $20 in the sand, we took nice photos, and blasted music in the car.

had some late night walmart and target visits with them, where nicole and i started our “hello/hi” snapchat epics. i miss those.

nicole spent a few nights at the hospital, so we visited her. we had fun, even though i know she was scared.

went to magic kingdom on 4/20 lmfao

went to jellyrolls one last time

was given a cupcake for my second to last day at port orleans (and for my last, as well). one of the managers was quite kind and i do appreciate her.

went to universal one last time. cracked my phone that morning lmfao. still had a great day, though.

the last evening before moving out, katie, estevan, and i went to magic kingdom. daniel took some photos for us in front of the castle, we said goodbye to estevan, watched happily ever after, and for our last ride, attempted to go on thunder mountain. we were evacuated. what a way to end it.

despite these memories, the first part of 2019 is kind of a blur. i remember being infuriated with my workplace environment--the lack of hours, the shitty treatment of employees, particularly by one of the managers. i do not miss him and i do not miss that place. i am only thankful to have met katie, nicole, and estevan through it. port orleans riverside, and disney world in general (not disneyland, on which i will speak later) is the absolute most awful place i have ever worked. i cried in my car in the rain starting my 6 hour drive back to charleston on may 2nd to have to leave my friends, but i was overjoyed to be leaving orlando.

returned to charleston, no money in my bank account, worried about the plausibility of getting a job just for a few months before leaving for california.

saw shakey graves with callie and some others. it wasn’t the best shakey graves show i’d seen, but it was nice nonetheless.

went to folly beach for the sunrise with melissa. it was beautiful and empty, and i was even wearing a jacket in charleston in may.

also went to the grand reopening of one of the local mcdonalds with melissa LMFAO

got a job at east bay deli and also back at the college bookstore. thank god for them.

spent the next 8-ish weeks mostly just working close to every day. i might have had 3 or 4 days off in that time. but i wouldn’t have had it any other way. i actually looked forward to the 2 days a week i got to work at the bookstore--i loved my supervisors and coworkers so much. and the deli was chill and i enjoyed my coworkers there, too. i miss them, to be honest. both of those jobs. i didn’t make much money, but it was something to enable me to get a start in california and to enjoy a couple of summer trips.

in mid-july, rented a car and drove up to the smokies, one of new favorite summer traditions (although i’m not sure if i’ll be able to continue it this year). on the way there, i even got a new phone, making the trip even better, since i now had a battery life that lasted, gps that actually worked, and a nicer phone camera. i did some really great hikes, ones that i’d had on the back burner for a couple years. i even did 2 hikes in one day that added up to about 15 miles. that’s not really that much, but i was proud of myself. i also found myself once again at looking glass falls, feeling that this is what summer should look like. i miss that place, where everything seems simple, even though it’s not.

returned, worked for a few more days at the bookstore (with my birthday in between, a lovely day spent in edisto with my parents), and flew up to the new york area for a couple days. man, what a trip.

after arriving at jfk, i took the airtrain into manhattan and headed uptown to finally visit the general grant mausoleum, something i had wanted to do the last couple times i had been to new york but had never had the chance to. it was beautiful to look at and fascinating to learn about. i love that the nps has so many different kinds of sites. then, i went to columbia’s wallach art gallery because i had the time to. bob dylan’s “mozambique” was part of one of the pieces.

finally took the train down to lauren’s. it was so incredible to spend the night at her apartment and then to come back to the city with her the next day. we went to the color factory, walked around soho, got food in chinatown, and went to a drag performance, after which we met up with kai and got a late dinner in harlem.

the next day, we walked around to a few color factory spots and parted ways at penn station. i continued on to my next airbnb in queens and went to primark to end the evening.

went back to flushing meadows corona park, reminiscing about the paul simon concert i’d seen less than a year before and how strange it was to be back on the same soil. i explored the park in more depth. it’s such an overlooked place full of early 60s futurism. i went to paul simon’s childhood home, which is up for sale now, and got a snack at the lemon ice king of corona. on i ventured to the jamaica bay wildlife refuge, another nps site checked off my list (not that any nps site is a place to “check off.” i want to see them all because the diversity is so unique).

that evening, i met up with ciaran. it was so cool to be able to see him for the first time since berlin. besides zuri and the people i went to school with, he’s the only person i’ve seen since that semester. i loved talking about berlin and what we’ve been up to since then.

my last day, i wandered around prospect park (at the recommendation of ciaran), went to federal hall, and finally to governor’s island where i got soaked in a rainstorm but it was all right. i ended the night with pierogi and thoughts of the coming week.

flew back and packed for the start of a different life

once again flew out of charleston for what i thought would be the last time for a while. i arrived in chicago for a nice few days before chugging out of union station.

trying to get to my airbnb on the l was an experience. lollapalooza was going on, and i arrived at my transfer station just as everyone was leaving for the night. it was packed and i ended up going in the opposite direction i needed just so that i could get on the train in the right direction before everyone else piled on. it was funny, though, even in the moment.

it was my first time in chicago, so i started my first day at millennium park, which was honestly really cool, despite the crowds. from there, i went to the art institute, where i could have spent all my time if i had the chance. i remembered scenes from ferris bueller.

travelled down to the university of chicago, where i toured the robie house. i think that was the first frank lloyd wright house that i’ve seen. maybe someday i’ll get to fallingwater and the like.

more south, there’s a place called the stony island arts bank. they had on display an artist’s work who had painted a photo from each day of obama’s presidency. there were thousands of them. i loved it so much.

my second and last day, i walked along lake michigan, visited a mexican art museum, and went to the zoo, ending the night at the navy pier gazing at the city lights. this trip was a tourist’s one, but i wouldn’t have had it any other way.

dragged my shit to union station the next morning, ready to depart on an over-two-day long train trip to the west.

to begin with, the train left probably 2 hours late. it was all right, though. when we finally started moving, i felt it--the wheels against the track, sure, but more so the wind in mountains thousands of miles away that i would soon see.

sunset in illinois and sunrise in nebraska, a concept

i had both seats to myself from somewhere in illinois until salt lake city. what a time to be alive.

sure, the stretch between denver and colfax might be the beautiful part, but all those plains of nebraska and eastern colorado did a number on me.

in denver, we had about a 35 minute refuel break, so i left the train and union station and walked to a 7 eleven a few blocks away. how strange it was to be in a city i’d always heard of, but just for a few minutes. when i got back on, a man had boarded and sat in front of me that sure was a loud talker. i was thankful to be behind him rather than next to him.

we left denver, only to be held up about a half hour later by a freight train stuck in a tunnel. the man started freaking me and the other passengers out a little--he was muttering and sort of rocking back and forth, clearly uncomfortable with the delay we were faced with. i moved to the observation car for the first time to get away from him, and boy, am i glad i did. i spent a good amount of time there for the remainder of my journey. when we were still stuck behind that freight train, the conductor came in and played someone’s guitar, leading us all in a singalong. it was pure and i’m glad i was a part of it.

after we finally got moving again, we started to see the scenery we had signed up for. apart from badlands and the black hills last year, i’d never seen the west at all. this was terrain on the level of ansel adams’s iconography. thank god for that part of the country.

to see and do this on a train made it so much more meaningful. to realize you’re looking at the path that people’s ancestors blazed through all those years ago is something else.

a lot of utah was passed through at night, unfortunately, but from salt lake city on, we could see the alien landscapes of the state. i still can’t fully fathom its character, but i have at least a bit of an idea now. wow.

at one point, i think in nevada, we were delayed again by a passenger needing an ambulance. i can’t even imagine what it must have been like for them. i hope everything ended up working out fine for them.

leaving out of reno and crossing the state line into california was anticlimactic but incredible. i was really in california.

everyone ended up getting a free meal because the train was so late. at that point, it was over 6 hours behind schedule. that beef stew, mashed potatoes, and bread sure hit different when i hadn’t had substantial food since denver.

the train emptied out as time went on, and after the last sunset somewhere in the middle of california, it was just me and a few others in the observation car. trev and i had been talking for months about meeting up once i got to california, and he ended up calling me to ask if he could come to my airbnb the night i arrived in anaheim in a few days. i said yes. it remained in the back of my mind.

we rolled in to emeryville 5 minutes before midnight, 7 hours and 45 minutes late. it was cold and i was unsure of the reliability of my airbnb host, but i wouldn’t trade it for anything. i ended up taking a lyft to the airbnb because i just couldn’t deal with waiting for or even learning the bus. my airbnb host was probably the worst i’ve ever had, and i only was able to get into the apartment complex because another resident came back and let me in, but it doesn’t matter.

i worried about transportation costs in san francisco, but i bit the bullet (as gently as i could). it’s fucking san francisco in the summertime. what else can you do?

i started everything off with a visit to the hyde street pier after taking the bus into the city from berkeley. i saw a sea lion or seal or whatever and got my first view of the golden gate. it was like nothing else.

had in n out, since i guess it’s blasphemous not to

walked to the palace of the arts and then went to the bridge. i didn’t cross it or anything, but i walked down to the beach and admired the bay. how do places like that exist?

climbed back up to the level of civilization and rushed over to the embarcadero to meet up with brandon. i feel so grateful that i was able to meet up with him. we walked around chinatown, had dinner, and ended the night at burger king in union square.

the next morning, i made my way to golden gate park, where outside lands was to be held later that day. i saw the windmill, the bison enclosure, strawberry hill, the aids memorial grove--a message on one of the stones said the names of two men who had “met the day humans walked on the moon”--and hippie hill. that park is full.

i thought about trev on my long walks, how i’d probably be seeing him in a little over 24 hours

ventured into the haight-ashbury district, where i wandered around amoeba a little bit and saw the music history which has become such a piece of consumerism nowadays. i guess it always was, though.

saw a beautiful church in mission delores and looked around an alley of street art; then went up to the richy rich part of town (although i guess that’s the entirety of sf, isn’t it?) to see the painted ladies and look at everything the beat museum had to offer. that place was so fascinating.

went back to my airbnb briefly before taking the bart down to oakland to see paul simon in his pop-up show at the fox theater that he’d announced about a week beforehand. i was lucky enough to score a ticket, and even though his setlist was mostly the same from when i’d seen him twice the year before, there’s something about him that just makes me wide-eyed.

the next day, flew out of sf and into orange county, my new home. flying down to southern california was a feeling of hope and freshness. i don’t feel it as much anymore, but it sure did make my heart jump at the time. i still couldn’t believe i was in california, seeing the pacific outside my airplane window, and that just 4 or 5 days before, i had experienced so much less in my life.

that evening, trev came over. it was certainly a day of firsts. i remember that night so well, how he kissed me good night at the end. i still like him as a friend and i’ll probably hook up with him again, but blech. cringe. i’ve changed, i think.

the next day, i moved into a new apartment to start the disney college program once again. meeting my 4 roommates, who knew what kind of shit was to happen over the next few months? i was so guarded that day, as i always am with meeting people, but especially with the self-hatred of continuing to work for disney.

in the next few days before the orientation where we get our disney IDs and entrance pass to the parks, i got settled and explored the area a little bit. i walked onto disney property, seeing the disneyland sign for the first time. it was otherworldly. i had thought about this for so many years, not just california, but disneyland specifically. it was the original, the first. seeing downtown disney, the hotels, and a few views of the parks was insane.

the day of the orientation was like a door opening. we went on a small tour of the park. it was just me and one other guy in our group who had never been to disneyland, so we got to go out into it first. i will always remember that first second. i also learned that i would be working at autopia lmfao and i was NAWT happy. look at me now. i am so goddamn indebted to that place.

that evening, my roommates and i went into the park as guests, and i rode peter pan as my first ride. i was happy.

went to la for the first time the next day. seeing the hollywood sign in the distance doesn’t faze me quite so much now, but that first time, wow. it’s beautiful when everything is new to you.

went to the parks a few more times in the midst of training at auto. i met and befriended abby, greg, and alex. my second day of auto training was blake and jacob’s first. i remember meeting them and shaking their hands and discussing how we had all done a program in florida.

went to joshua tree one night with zuri, where we stargazed and saw all kinds of flora and fauna. it was beautiful, and i loved being the one to drive back at 4 in the morning through the blackened californian scenery.

the day i got signed off, i went back to la to spend the night at trev’s LMFAO, with the next morning spent at venice and santa monica. i remember feeling so grateful for my life, for california, for getting laid, for disneyland.

a few nights later, a big group of us all went out. i got drunk for the first time. i met britt then, and i got closer to blake and everyone.

in the next few weeks, i went to an angels game with abby and her roommates, went bowling with coworkers, and had a tipsy la day with abby.

then came september 11th. we were all going to go out again. after work, i went to walmart to buy vodka and strawberry lemonade. i made a detour to mcdonald’s because i wanted to eat something before getting lit. and i broke my ankle. never got to go out that night. the defining point of these past 6 months.

i sat on the ground after falling for about 20 minutes, maybe, waiting and hoping for the pain to subside. it didn’t. before the swelling started, i noticed that when i moved my left ankle, it didn’t look the same as my right one. i admitted defeat and called my roommate to drive me to the er. thank god for her.

we sat in the er waiting room for a couple hours. my ankle hurt, but i don’t really remember it being too bad anymore. they finally saw me. i got an x-ray. the technician said it was broken. i started crying. the nurse splinted me up and gave me crutches. the doctor wrote me a recommendation for an orthopedic specialist. i fell again trying to use the crutches on the way out. they re-x-rayed me. re-splinted me. sent me home.

i somehow took a shower the next morning. blake messaged me, asking how i was. he brought me coffee and pastries. i will never forget it.

i couldn’t get an appointment until almost a week later, but in the meantime, my roommates and i held a couple game and movie nights. abby and jacob came by, blake always made an appearance, and i met tucker.

i would start a lot of days by listening to the sigh no more album and contemplating my future. it was a low time, but not the lowest it would get.

britt and i talked a lot, comparing our experiences. i asked her a lot about medical leave. we grew closer because of it all.

when the appointment finally rolled around, i was told that i would most likely need surgery. he re-splinted it and sent me on my way, as it was still too swollen to do anything. i cried in blake’s car.

i called my parents and they said i should come home. i was devastated, but they were right. i was going to do absolutely EVERYTHING in my power to be able to continue with my college program, though. this shit would not end me. (and it didn’t. but i didn’t know it at the time.)

a flight was booked for me to fly back to charleston on september 21st. the night before, we had a final game night with everyone. blake gave me a letter, saying not to read it until i got on the plane. hugs goodbye were tight and i felt my chest close. it was melancholic in a way i’d never felt before.

i sat in the airport the next day trying not to cry. i was able to hold it in. then i was in the air and i finally let myself read the letter. tears escaped often throughout that entire day. i tried to be as discreet as i could.

i reunited with my parents much sooner than i thought i would. it had only been just over a month, after all. i had an appointment that tuesday and we set up surgery for thursday.

i was in charleston for 6 weeks exactly, one of the longest stretches of time in my life. i was constantly forlorn about california and worried about my finances and my participation in the program. the lowest point hit when one of the program people said i should consider cutting my losses and quitting, that they’d only make me pay rent through the middle of november because of my circumstances. i got a medical bill from the er in anaheim that was exponential because my insurance hadn’t gone through yet (but i didn’t realize that part). the only thing that kept me all right was the thought of my friends in california and the hope of a grandiose future, although i wasn’t too sure about that possibility. i wrote blake a letter and he wrote me back. i read east of eden and some other books. britt and i texted. rozi and i became incredibly close. i hung out with my parents and we watched queer eye. i recovered. i became better. my blind resilience (or perhaps stubbornness) was the main reasoning behind my (stupidly naïve) unwavering assuredness of a return to california.

LMFAO at the fact that i almost forgot about this, but i texted tucker a lot during that stretch, as well. he asked me out, and we grew closer during my stint in charleston. i looked forward to hanging out with him when i got back.

and the day of my return did come. november 2nd, the most beautifully pure day of my program. i flew back with grace in my heart and stars in my eyes, even though i was still on crutches. i had a window seat and clear skies to admire the southwest, another part of the country i had never had the chance to lay eyes on. and i landed at john wayne airport to texts about my return. britt picked me up and everything seemed positive and optimistic.

reuniting with blake was something in itself. it was brief, but it had been such a long time coming that i almost cried again. he called me a kindred spirit one time, and that is such a perfect description of what he is to me, as well.

finally met up with tucker. we went to in n out and came back to my apartment, where we talked for a while and made out for a while.

had an appointment less than a week later, where i was told that i could start putting weight on my ankle again. within another week, i was down to one crutch. it was freeing in a way i’d never known. by now, it was the middle of november, and i still wasn’t certain when i’d return to work, but it didn’t matter anymore. i was here, in california, surrounded by people i’d grown unfathomably close to in such a short time.

went to the ellen show somewhere in there and had sex with tucker LMFAO. we spent a lot of time together in about three weeks (he ended up quitting the program and moving back to georgia, so our time was quite short). i had a good time, although i now realize how blinded i was by his laziness and selfishness. i don’t miss him, but i don’t regret it.

had a photoshoot with my boot and my crutch. it was nice to be able to have fun again.

finally returned to the parks, which was something of a homecoming, but not as much as when my aunt visited a few days later and i rode autopia for the first time since everything happened.

tucker moved out, and i cried. i roll my eyes now. i wrote him a letter and he never acknowledged it, and never texted anyone back that wished him well. fuck him.

on november 25th, the program gave us a thanksgiving dinner. after that, rozi, blake, britt, and i all wanted to do something, so blake found this place called the juke joint less than a mile away. it was the start of our close group. we would go and play pool and have a drink or two. by that point, i was down to no crutch, as well.

one night, we all went to abby’s. i got a little drunk and talked about socialism and the national park service for like half an hour.

went to medieval times lmao

it kind of became a thing for us to drag blake out of his apartment to go to juke joint. those were the days.

got cleared to go back to work on december 4th, but didn’t go back until the 13th. in that time, i chilled, tried not to spend money, and slept over at trev’s again after a fun karaoke session with zuri and her coworkers. we went to amoeba and guitar center, and i went to a book talk at the morrison hotel gallery.

one juke joint night, rozi, blake, britt, and i ended up staying out all night, driving to the top of the world in laguna to see sunrise. it started with rozi needing toilet paper, so we went to target after leaving juke joint. then we didn’t want it to end. we got tacos and donuts and we sat in a park for a while talking about life. rozi wanted to go to a view. we found the top of the world. and we drove there. there was fog and gas station snacks. i am thankful for that night and for rozi initiating it all.

went to the dcp end of program celebration and got drunk at abby’s apartment afterwards. i had a lot of fun that night. i met matheus there.

finally went back to work on december 13th. that morning, all the program participants had an opportunity to take a photo in front of the castle, and jacob, abby, and i all posed together. at work, i felt a real sense of joy. my ankle and feet hurt by the end of the day, but the knowledge of forthcoming paychecks and a renewed sense of purpose overpowered any pain.

went to the newport boat parade

another night, rozi, blake, and i again stayed out all night after juke joint. we went back to the same park, and after a while, we said “let’s go to la.” i drove there in blake’s car, and we tried to go to griffith, but it was closed. so we went up to the start of a hollywood sign hike and looked down at the city’s lights. the juxtaposition of the natural and the man-made is really captivating. then we went to hollywood boulevard and had fries at a 24 hour burger place in the roosevelt hotel at 4 in the morning. it was beautiful. on the way back, rozi slept in the back and blake and i talked about politics and the park service, about trump’s impeachment. i called out of work and slept all day, that evening going to jacob’s housewarming party. after we left, the four of us went back to blake’s (i, at least, was crossfaded at that point lmfao) and all laid on his twin bed.

on christmas eve, rozi, blake, and i went to california adventure and had food from the festival of the holidays. it was an incredible evening. it felt pure.

i worked on christmas morning again, but i enjoyed myself. blake and i would fuck around, and it really made everything all right.

went out with some coworkers a few days later. we laughed and got low.

worked a hell of a lot, trying to make up for the three months i had been out of a job

new years eve almost was anticlimactic--almost. blake, abby, and i all worked and came home together, making a stop at vons for champagne, pizza, and chips and salsa. then, i found out rozi wasn’t going to be around because she was going to spend the evening with her family. i was disheartened. new years is the only holiday i really care about, and it was about to be the start of the roaring 20s. i wanted to do something big. but it ended up being all right. i went to abby’s apartment and hung out with her roommates. blake came a bit later. we all drank together until abby and bailey decided to go to california adventure, while the rest of us decided to stay. at midnight, it ended up just being me, blake, mackenzie, and lauren, which was all right. i was drunk by that point and i don’t really remember the ball dropping, but i know it was a nice way to roll in the new year. britt came through eventually, and we went back to blake’s, but he wanted to take a smoke, so we all went outside, me in his blanket. as he smoked his cigar (of which i took a few drags, unfortunately), britt went up to this party that was happening across the way and somehow got us all in. we put his blanket back and went into the party, which is fuzzy to me. i remember eating doritos and drinking jameson lmfao. i saw rod and matty at one point. i kissed them. i don’t remember coming home, but i got to work at 8:45 the next day on time. i was still drunk, but i sure did have fun that new years morning. i laughed and joked with blake and abby. it was their last day. i almost cried when blake came up to me as he was leaving.

saw a lot of movies thanks to my cousin working at amc and giving me a card that lets me see any movie any time for free

drove a little, even in california

spent way too much money on food

thought a lot about the differences between working conditions at disney world and disneyland. i’m thankful to be in california now, where the laws give more power to employees, where i’m part of a union, where the weather is good and the people are better

counted my endless blessings. i have never been more grateful of my life.

analyzed my broken ankle. it could not have come at a better time, in all honesty. i had already met incredible people on this program and had gotten to know them a little bit, so i didn’t feel like i was on the outskirts of the program, even when i was back in south carolina. it made me grow closer to everyone somehow, and i am thankful and appreciative beyond belief for that. rozi and i probably wouldn’t be as close as we are now without it. britt and i wouldn’t have bonded over our injuries. blake and i, oh man. we would have never written each other, i probably wouldn’t have read east of eden, and we might never have formed the juke joint squad. i remember writing about how hard it was, dealing with my broken ankle, with the lack of mobility, with the impending medical bills, but that i still thought that in the future, i would think the whole thing was soft. i think that even now, just a month or so later. even with the debt, with the worry of my mobility, i am so content with how my life has developed just over these past 4 months.

laughed and cried

missed school

listened to music in a new light, but maybe not as much as i used to

became incredibly busy, but would not have traded it for anything

looked into the aspire program with the realization that i would probably be starting the road to my master’s quite soon

became less conflicted about working for disney. i still hate myself sometimes, but it’s a different vibe out here. it seems more genuine than in florida.

completely embraced a life in california. i don’t really think this is where i’ll end up (although who really ever knows?), but i am so genuinely happy to be in this place for a bit--and i don’t think i’ve ever unabashedly or truly thought that about a residence before

loved the national park service, as i always do, and loved discussing it with blake

songs of the year: “timshel,” mumford and sons; “this life,” vampire weekend, “the cool, cool river,” paul simon; “count your blessings,” bing crosby. “timshel” made me think about my somehow unfaltering strength and independence, about how i have to be the source of affirmation in my own life. “this life” encapsulated the beauty of a never-ending summer. “the cool, cool river” let me remember to show weakness sometimes. and “count your blessings” is always in the back of my mind.

album of the year: norman fucking rockwell, lana del rey. that entire album was such a soundtrack for me when i was dreaming of nothing but california, of my friends, of walking.

man, 2019. the end of a decade. the change i had been waiting for. i am a completely different person than i was even 6 months ago. the events of this year affected me unlike anything in the past. i said last year that 2018 was the most eventful year of my life, but this year was something else. and i am so unendingly grateful for the trials, tribulations, and victories that it threw at me. romance, friendship, sex, drinks, travel, financial worry, pain, and overall, an enduring lust for life have carried me through this year into a new decade, and i wouldn’t have it any other way.

the first part of 2019 was completely different than the second half, and it is wild to think about it in those terms. i’m not too sure why california changed me the way it did, but man, the people i’ve come in contact with over the past 5 months have had such an impact on my life. the relationships i formed were the newest but also somehow some of the closest ones i’ve ever had. and it’s strange to think about them, but they completely envelop my outlook on this entire year.

i’ve been so caught up in my own life that i haven’t even touched on global events. you only have to remember a couple things to become overwhelmed by the horrors of the planet. climate change, hate crimes, poverty, war. it all blends together, honestly. i think about how the world is shitty and i just kind of close myself off from it. but there is always the occasional beautiful moment that you easily pluck from the depths of your brain to renew your hope. because even though it can constantly seem like you have lost all your hope, it is never actually gone. i think it’s impossible for hope to leave your being. that sense of longing and anticipation for an untouched tomorrow always gets me through the night.

and sometimes, you don’t even need hope. when you’ve got this incredible entanglement of all the people you love so much surrounding you, you can just picture their faces and remember the good times you’ve had so far with them and rest assured that life just might have mercy on you, on your weary but persistent and trailblazing soul.

“maybe it’s true that we are all descended from the restless, the nervous, the criminals, the arguers and brawlers, but also the brave and independent and generous. if our ancestors had not been that, they would have stayed in their home plots in the other world and starved over the squeezed-out soil.”

#about me #me #a year in review #2019

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Seventy-One: Absolute Discord ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Like Magic ] [ AO3 Link ]

Take an internship at the Ministry, they said. It’ll be a learning experience, they said. You’ll have to beat future employers away with a stick, they told him!

Yeah, right.

Ministry work is dreadfully boring. Of course, Sasuke could have guessed as much. An institution revolving around keeping order in a world that has anything but order? Stressful, hectic...but still, in the long run, boring.

As an intern, he mostly just picks up any scrap of doing no one else wants to bother with that’s any step above custodial. Though they have a perfectly good messaging system, he’s often told to run and find so-and-so, and tell them this and that. Take these papers to what’s-his-name. Fetch me a fresh cup of tea!

He feels less like an employee, and more like a well-trained dog.

And he’s not the only one.

A handful of other students from his classes at Hogwarts have found work in the Ministry, too. Well...if you can really call it work. They’re hardly paid, especially considering the trouble they’re all put through. Most don’t stick it out for long, but one alongside himself has managed thus far.

Hinata Hyūga. Hufflepuff. He remembers her notoriety as an excellent student of herbology. What she’s doing in a place like this, he has no idea. But when it all comes down to it, he’s glad for the company. They run into each other (at times literally) more often than not as they scramble to keep up with their ‘work’. Elevator rides turn into brief flickers of harried conversation before they part again. And then eventually they start taking their lunches together. While they’d been acquaintances in school, Sasuke thinks he just might dare to call them friends, now.

At least, he likes her. She’s sort of cute in a small, soft way. Still, she’s clearly very determined, keeping pace with the best of them, including himself. Why she deems him passable to converse with given his introversion and perhaps...darker aesthetic compared to her light and bouncy one, he has no idea.

But, either way, she keeps finding reason to talk to him, so...he takes that as a good sign.

And everything is going swimmingly...until disaster strikes.

While it’s no secret that the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts department sees its share of odd and - at times - volatile cases, today seems to be shaping up to set a new record.

The pair are walking past a bit leisurely, in-between assignments, when a muffled report sounds out. And while not entirely unheard of on this floor, a kind of knowing stops them both in their tracks to listen.

Mistake.

After the groaning of straining wood builds to a peak, it suddenly snaps - literally - and the door of the office bursts apart. From within explode a plethora of flapping, and apparently angry, books.

Both light and dark eyes go wide, and - rather than try to confront the flock with magic - the pair take off down the corridor. In a matter of moments, the hall is in absolute discord. The sounds of flapping pages and snapping bindings are like a maelstrom of angry bird wings and beaks. Wizards and witches duck for cover, some attempting to fight back with petrifying spells, but to no avail. And more and more just keep pouring out of the office! It’s like they’re just...multiplying!

“Quick! I-in here!” Reaching for the nearest door, Hinata wrenches it open and whirls inside, Sasuke not far behind her. Pulling it closed (after shoving out a snapping tome), they both struggle to catch their breath. Even from in here, the sounds are raucous, each of them flinching as their coworkers squawk and scream in terror.

“What the bloody hell…?” Sasuke mutters, keeping a hand on the doorknob to make sure it doesn’t open again.

“I have no idea. Hopefully they find a way to stop them soon. It’s…”

Looking over his shoulder, Sasuke realizes that they’ve ended up in a closet. And a rather small one at that. So much so, he can barely turn around, and Hinata has to make herself small to keep from leaning on him.

“...a little crowded in here.”

“Er...yeah.” Pulling out his wand, Sasuke locks the door to keep it from being opened before those things are subdued. It’s not like anyone else looking for cover is going to be able to find it here, anyway. All they’d manage would be to let the terror tomes in.

He then turns around, leaning against the door as she does the same to an overstocked supply shelf. Even now, there’s only a few inches between them - half a foot at best.

...awkward.

Each clearly doing their best to look anywhere but at their companion, a standoffish silence blooms, and grows.

“I, er...didn’t even know this was a closet,” Sasuke eventually mutters, trying to break the atmosphere.

“I - I didn’t, either. It was just the first door I s-saw.”

“Well, a hell of a lot better than being stuck out there in that.” His head jerks over his shoulder. It doesn’t sound any calmer out there yet.

That earns a nervous giggle. “Y-yeah, true.” Hinata’s nose wrinkles a bit. “...still, it smells awfully dusty in here. I...doubt this even gets used.”

“Doesn’t seem that way. More like...someplace to shove anything you’ve no idea what else to do with.”

“It does! I mean...l-look at this junk…” She gestures to what looks to be a broken clock, springs and coils hanging loosely out of its smashed face. “Why is this still here…?”

“No idea. But next time someone refuses the documents I lug halfway across the Ministry to them, they’re going in here.”

The Hyūga giggles, lifting a hand to bury the sound in her sleeve.

A corner of Sasuke’s mouth twitches.

“I hope this doesn’t last too long...it’s almost lunch and I’m starving.”

Glancing over his shoulder and listening, he shakes his head. “Still sounds like a madhouse out there.”

“Lovely…” Shifting a bit, Hinata flinches.

“...you all right?”

“Yeah, just…” She half-turns, fiddling with some of the artefacts. “Something keeps poking me…”

“Want to trade places?”

“No, no...then you’d have it prodding you.”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Well, I can handle it too!”

Sasuke just snorts. “You could turn around.”

“It seems rude to turn my back on you. And then I’d have nothing to lean on…”

“...better than something jabbing you in the back?”

She just gives him a pout.

“Could lean on me, you know. I’m not thin enough to be bonier than a rack full of who-knows-what.”

Color flushes into Hinata cheeks. “I -! But I d-don’t want to impose, and -”

“How is it imposing if I’m the one proposing it?” Sasuke counters, giving her a look. “For Pete’s sake, Hyūga, just -”

“All right, all right!” Clearly still flustered, there’s a moment of hesitation before she does a half turn, leaning a shoulder against his chest and looking toward the back of the closet.

“There, see? No one’s dead.”

She just gives a small scoff, still pink-cheeked.

With that, they fall into an impasse. Sasuke keeps his head turned to the door to listen, and Hinata just...stands there. But slowly, her stiffened posture relaxes, and Sasuke even feels her nestle a bit more comfortably against him.

Then, finally, the shouts of spells start to overtake the flapping. Apparently someone’s found something that stops the bloody things. He feels her also turn her head, and then...glorious silence.

“...well, I think that’s done it,” he notes, ear still to the door.

“Ugh, finally…”

Sighing, Sasuke pauses, and then...realizes she’s not moving. And he...can’t really get up until she does. Giving her a glance, he finds her still reclined against his front. “Well, er...I guess we should get back to it…?”

“...yes, I suppose you’re right.” There’s a shy glance up to him, and then -

the door opens up behind them.

“Wha-?”

“Whoa!”

Tumbling to the floor, Hinata lands atop him with a grunt, the pair of them flat out from the closet and surrounded by the Ministry workers who - assumedly - put an end to the entire fiasco.

A throat clears.

Blooming red, Sasuke lets Hinata handle the scrambling to get up first, knowing he’d only make it harder with his own squirming. She dusts herself off as another wizard offers Sasuke a hand up.

“Well,” a rather staunch-looking witch offers, arms crossed and peering down her nose at them. “I see someone made use of a hiding place during this little distraction. How...fortuitous.”

“Oh, n-no!” Hinata insists, waving her hands. “We - w-we were just trying to get away, and then -”

“Spare me your explanations,” the elder woman sighs, waving a hand of her own dismissively. “You can help with the cleanup to make amends for ducking and covering while the rest of us dealt with problem.”

Clearly chastised, Hinata hangs her head as Sasuke looks over the battlefield. He’s never seen so many torn pieces of parchment in one room…

“The rest of you, please get back to your duties. Let the rookies handle the aftermath.” Giving a sniff, she leads the rest away, and the pair are left alone.

“...well, that was lovely,” Sasuke mutters. “What else were we supposed to do? Like anyone else wasn’t cowering in their office?”

“I’m sorry...I-I led you in there…”

“If it hadn’t have been you, it would have been me. It was the only sensible thing to do! They just saw how we were, and just assumed that - that we were -!”

Hinata glances aside, pink again. “...it...it d-did look rather...um...suggestive, didn’t it?”

He just scoffs. “Well sure, but -”

“Just...never mind it, Sasuke. Let’s get this cleaned up, and...pretend this never happened…”

Scowling for a moment longer, Sasuke still notices the slight downward lilt of her voice. “...are you all right?”

“I...I just...h-haven’t been in trouble yet, so…” Still she avoids his eyes, walking out into the paper massacre.

That is, until he grabs her wrist.

“What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing’s wrong.” Hinata gives a small tug. “Please Sasuke…”

“Look, I’ll explain what happened to them - don’t worry about it. I’ll clear it up, and your reputation will be fine -”

“I’m not w-worried about my reputation!”

That balks him back slightly, losing his grip on her arm, which she hugs against herself with its pair.

“...I...I shouldn’t have done that.”

“...done what?”

Color gets darker in her cheeks. “T...touch you like, l-like that. It was...it was inappropriate.”

He blinks. “...Hyūga, nothing happened. We were just...standing there!”

Hinata’s form tenses a bit more, and...something seems to click. All her blushing. Not getting up when the books went quiet. Her embarrassment at the insinuation, but...no denial.

She…?

“...I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to m-make this into such a mess. I just...I couldn’t…” Hands cover her face.

“...hey.”

Nothing.

“Hey!”

A small peek.

“I’m not mad, Hinata. Really, I’m not.” A hand brushes back through his hair with a sigh, not bothering to correct his slip of names. “...if anything, I…” Not it’s his turn to flush across the bridge of his nose. “...I didn’t...mind.”

“...you…?”

“Maybe I was even a little glad. Because in all honesty? You’re the only reason I’m still here doing this bloody awful job.”

Surprise slackens her face, and her hands fall from her cheeks.

Staring stubbornly to one side, he admits, “...you make it bearable. Getting to talk to you, and walk with you...it’s been nice. I was glad you didn’t quit like the others. Cuz then...I would have too. I don’t need this job. Really, I don’t. But…” Sasuke risks a glance back. “...but...I do need you.”

...God that was sappy as hell, she’s going to -

Balking, Sasuke stumbles back half a step as she leaps and latches onto him tightly. Arms out for balance, it takes a moment to embrace her back, too surprised.

“...I-I feel the same way…!”

His expression lightens. “You…?”

Hinata laughs, letting him set her down. “...w-we’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

“...yeah. Guess we are.” He glances aside. “...idiots with a hell of a mess to -”

Smiling wryly, Hinata gives a wave of her wand from her pocket, and the parchment begins to sort itself out, other debris seeming to go backward in time as they right themselves.

“...I took a housekeeping class,” she sniffs at his look.

“...you’re brilliant, you know that?”

“Thank you.”

Oh my gosh, this got...really long compared to most entries for this challenge, but I just...couldn't stop writing, I liked it too well xD I don't cross Naruto and Harry Potter as much as I likely should. Though I loved HP growing up, it sort of...lost its spark for me as I got older (and JK got a bit more...ridiculous). So I'm not often inspired for it. But this phrase gave me this scene in my head, and I couldn't NOT write it. And then it got a bit fluffier than intended at the end, but that's never a bad thing! They might find themselves stuffed in closets more often from now on ;3 Aaanyway, it's...very late, and I'm very tired, so that's all from me. Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #like magic [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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wand3ringstardust · 5 years

Text

Winter break is the first time i’ve fully been able to process what happened with the last guy I dated.. and it led to me just spillin all kinds of tea so enjoy the novella if you choose to read:

I’ve been ruminating over it and I wish I could stop; but let me tell you, hindsight is 20/20. Sure I told some of my friends about the last date that actually made me break up with him, but I realized I didn’t allow myself to process everything and they probably don’t even know everything.

Since I took the LSAT literally the weekend after I broke up with him, I had to table the feelings as best I could and focus. And then this semester has been so overwhelming I just didn’t sort of “debrief” properly I think.

I finally really thought about it all from the first messages/date through last encounter and I finally see him for who he is. I’m also convinced this guy was actually a narcissist and possibly sociopath and probably would have turned physically abusive at some point.

Not only did he treat me poorly, but I think the bigger affront is realizing that I don’t really know who he was or is.

First messages and communication:

In the beginning he mirrored certain things that he knew that I valued. For instance, before our first date he really hyped up the religion thing. As someone who’s a fairly devote Christian even I thought he was laying it on a little thick; like “oh you inspired me to read the bible,” or “one prayer can change everything,” but I didn’t say anything because i’m like he’s trying to shoot his shot and i’m gonna let him even though he’s not slick with it at all. It came out later on that he’s not really religious, which I would’ve been okay with but he didn’t tell me that and even took me to freaking Catholic Mass as part of the first date.

He kept books on MLK and Gandhi in his room which he would talk about and made himself seem like this do-gooder/ I care about society and people type person. I remember he told me he wanted to be a lawyer too. He even had this huge LSAT study calendar he showed me on his wall so naturally I believed him, because who goes through such lengths otherwise.

So without the inconsistencies yet revealed to me, you can start to see why someone like me would be attracted to someone like him, but it was all a facade.

He told me he wanted to be an immigration lawyer, which ended up not being true. He slowly shifted to what he really wanted to do the more I got to know him. However, I remember towards the end, maybe a week or two leading up to the break up we were talking about refugees and Trump and he said he really didn’t care what happens to them at all- shocking. So naturally I ask him about the immigration law thing but of course he has a feasible excuse.

First date:

Now the first date was so nice and he was respectful and generous. The only weird feeling is that there was one point we we’re walking at night and i’m a few steps behind him and I just got this really strange feeling that I didn’t know him at all. I chalked it up to it being the first date and nerves related to that. I didn’t feel sparks but I’ve had an instant crazy connection before and it didn’t turn out too well, so you know I decided to give it time.

-----

It’s only recently that I started piecing together the inconsistencies and all of the seemingly little red flags that are now glaring that I ignored. My only defense is that the obvious bad behavior started toward the end:

Pushing for commitment:

He pressured me about making it official a week or two before the breakup. When he asked me on the phone about asking me at soon to be his girlfriend I hesitated because I really wasn’t expecting to have that conversation. He said I was sounding sus and then I explained that I wanted to wait and why. I told him I was only seeing him, and that I wanted to be with him but it was too soon. Prior he had told me that he never wants to get married and I tried to get him to rethink, I wasn’t trying to marry him or anything, just to be open to the idea of the institution someday. And whatever I said he used my same words to try to manipulate me into being his girlfriend. He was really laying it on thick saying he knew my story when we really didn’t know enough about each other well enough. He said there was only one of him and once he’s gone that’s it. Only after badgering me and myself holding firm, did he back off and say that we could go at my pace.

It had also been enough time where it would be appropriate to meet my friends but he refused and even said something about not wanting them to influence my decision. That was super weird.

Date planning:

Early on he cancelled dates the day of. I’m pretty flexible with friends but last minute rescheduling and cancelling is a huge pet peeve of mine with dating because it shows a disregard of my time and the fact that I took time into getting ready sometimes even spending money to do so. The first time I was hanging out with my friend before hand so it wasn’t a day lost and she convinced me to give him a second chance. I thought I was being harsh so I did. But then he did it a couple other times, mind you we only date for about 2 months.

He would often ask for my input on date ideas, but we always ended up doing what he wanted.

last week:

Last minute cancelling and physical touch:

So the last week I think we saw each other twice. One was supposed to be a date, but he got caught up “last minute” with a project. I had stuff to work on too so I suggested we meet up and study together. That day he would jokingly pinch my thighs so I’d try to pinch him back and he also called me thunder thighs. The comment didn’t bother me a lot because I’m fine with my body but I thought it was odd.

I commented on how he never hugs me and he gave me the hardest pick me up bear hug, to the point where it hurt. He also picked me up and spun me around so fast I almost fell and he had to hold me up. And then at one point he put me on the desk and was just kind of playing rough like pretended to choke me but didn’t actually. By this point there are alarm bells going off but I hold off on making a decision.

On the way back to our cars there’s barely anyone outside and it’s dark out. I jokingly “bump” into him with my hip in like a flirty way and he goes that’s too much pda. (last time I used that trick on a guy it got me a kiss ; ) but oh well) I look back and note the irony because he inquired about sex should we get into an official relationship but he was far from affectionate and NEVER kissed me, not even on the cheek, and never any handholding. I also remember one time driving in his car he would "playfully" push my head or when I tried to change the music on his phone, he would flick me. It didn’t particularly hurt with the head thing but I was just kinda like ??? and he goes idk what I’m doing/ why I did that.

General lack of empathy:

The weekend before the last date I tried to change the date time to a little earlier because I wasn’t feeling well and also didn’t want to be out late because I had to study and prefer to do that at night and tried to run errands beforehand. I got my period that morning AND unbeknownst to me at the time I was having a reaction to meds I had been taking for a while which led to some pretty gross digestive side effects so I didn’t go into detail in explaining exactly what was wrong with me. He also mentioned doing something spooky at night in a park, but I wasn’t feeling that idea, so even more of a reason to make the date earlier. He was upset but kept his cool and said we should just reschedule.

I got worse and I felt so sick that night and his reaction was.. different. He called me, I had been asleep and explained that I just woke up to his call which you could tell by my voice and that I was still not feeling well and all he said was interesting repeatedly. I can’t say for sure but I definitely got the vibe that he was trying to see if I was telling the truth or not. But he never asked if I was okay or voiced any concern.

Another time I also burned the absolute fuck out of my hand with a hair straightener (like it is still scarred to this day) and he flicked it, it was dark so in his defense he didn’t know it was the burned hand but he didn’t say sorry or anything or if I brought up that it was particularly hurting he just wouldn’t respond to it.

side notes:

On occasion he would message me to see what I was doing when he knew I was out with people or would inquire about it when we talked. In the beginning this seemed normal because he’s just “getting to know me,” but as time went on I found it kind of intrusive and rude so I’d just said hey I’m out so I’m not gonna be on my phone after x time.

Two side things I remember, and I have no idea why it went over my head but once he nonchalantly said I shouldn’t trust a word he says and another time he said I have bad taste in guys. Thought he was joking, maybe self deprecating humor and sarcasm, but in hindsight he was telling me exactly who he was.

Last date:

A couple of days before the last date he called me and we were talking on the phone like normal, then he suggested going out on a date. I had the LSAT in a week so I really wanted to stay home. It has high time anxiety!! And he said something about also being a student and knowing damn well I wasn’t going to study all the time. It was rude but he also wasn’t wrong so I caved. Again noting the manipulation in retrospect.

During this conversation he said he would call back with plans. When he called back he didn't have any, so we were trying to solidify ideas. He wanted to play tennis but the place on campus was closed. I tried finding a park in between us and he just seemed to be getting annoyed. I even messaged one of my friends to find a spot who lives in my town and plays tennis and he acted weird because it was a male name. One place I suggested which happens to be in the town I was hanging out with a friend before and he asks where she is like she’s in NYC where she lives??? (like being paranoid as if she would show up where we were). So during this phone call he then said he had to go soon to read a book. I told him that since he had to go I could call him back with plans. He asked why I would do that and I said because he just told me he had to read and he said he never said that. It was just so bizarre that he would act like he didn’t say something minutes ago. Again, now knowing about gaslighting for some reason he was trying to make me question my reality.

So we settle on going to a mall in between us rather than me traveling literally an hour to a park where he wanted to go.

So the day of the last date he complains SO much:

First about the parking. Before he insisted that he drive me and I said no that I would meet him there. I like having control over when I can leave and I’m so glad I stuck to that on that day.

He complained about being able to find me even though I said let’s meet inside the food court.

I told him I was standing outside of x parking row so he could find me and he sarcastically said, "oh well it's a good thing you're 6 feet."

Then when we walk in he said we should’ve gone to a mall he liked in a faraway town. This was one the few dates I got to pick only after him being difficult about what he wanted to do before. I would have done his date idea but he was unwilling to compromise on a location in between us and was somehow paranoid that one of my friends would show up if it was too close to me. He said he liked people who were assertive and can take charge because if they’re not they’re insecure and that’s not attractive, but rarely did we actually go on a date where the activity was something I suggested. The plans would always somehow change to what he wanted. When he made the assertive comment I knew he was bullying me because I couldn’t think of an idea quick enough off the top of my head.

While in the mall he would say he wants to go to a nearby store that’s close by but not in the mall. So i’d ask if he wants to leave and he says no.

And he took the fun out of it and only looked at stuff he liked.

Other strange behavior on the date:

I’d do something funny, like I know how to put on the cute charm, and he would walk away and act like I was embarrassing him.

He kept complaining that someone smelled musty and insinuated it was me. It definitely was not because I showered right before I left and shave my underarms so I ended up washing them twice!

I was also particularly anxious that day so I had on lavender essential oil and thought maybe he wasn’t used to the scent so I waved my wrist in front of him and asked if that was the smell. Well he got upset that I did that in front of people to see?

He was also paranoid that people would overhear a conversation. It was vague enough so no one but us knew what I was talking about. The conversation had to do with him being concerned that a random gay guy in his neighborhood was looking at him and I made a joke saying how do you know you're even their type. He brought this up more than once and he had also said something the last week about something being “gay.” So I was concerned that he might be homophobic which we also had a conversation about because that's something I have zero tolerance for.

He also pointed out people and asked if he looked like this person would I still like him.

I would ask him a question like something actually engaging and interesting and he would flat out ignore me or say I don’t know.

We ended up in a bookstore because he was unhappy with what we were doing before and I was trying really trying to salvage the date at this point.

There he made some weird comment asking about my sister (which he knew I was estranged from) as if he was interested in her, but like it kind of went over my head because she’s just super messed up and I was kind of like oh like you don’t wanna go out with her.

Main reason I broke up with him:

I saw this cute writing prompt book, opened to a random page that asked what was on my bucket list. I asked what was on his and he said idk and refused to answer.

So we move to this section that has two genre books right next to each with also happens to be our individual majors. So he’s looking at his books and i’m looking at mine. Well I found a book that said c**t. I said “look this is so gross I hate this word”. He looks up and says “c**t, like you”. I was visibly upset and he kept a straight face, he wasn't joking and didn’t even look up from his book. I said bet, well noted and walked away for several minute. When I came back around he had his nose buried in the same book. He didn't apologize until when I was breaking up through text. I know some people use the word and it’s not a big deal, but we don’t even come from cultural backgrounds where that word is normal or even used. Weeks prior, he asked me a hypothetical question about marriage and about what would make me get a divorce and I said abuse in any form (physical, verbal, emotional, etc.) and before he had said shut up I said it is fine jokingly but I don’t like it because it can be a slippery slope if you get made and then really mean it. I had talked about how important language is in a relationship for me. So he was very clearly violating a boundary I had already established.

I didn't know how he would respond to confrontation, plus I realized I was carrying his keys so I couldn’t just run off, so I decided to end the date early and handle the situation later. So we're walking back to our cars and I'm visibly not okay. I’m just pissed off and really hurt, but that translated to me being really quiet, twisting the bag furiously and walking super fast. He asked if he could see the book I bought and tried to make eye contact with me although I refused to look at him. He then decides to ask what's on my bucket list. I say I don't know. When we got to our cars he asked if I wanted to go get dinner like totally ignoring what just happened and that something is obviously wrong. So I said no I'll pick something up and left. Later that night he texted me saying thanks and that he had fun??? And that's when the breakup texts started. His apology was weak and he said “yeah sorry sometimes words fly out my mouth to quick at times” and that he understood why I was upset and apologized. And I was basically like thanks for apologizing but you still said it which is significant” and ended it.

After that two days went by before he replied and I think it’s just because of a screenshot of a tweet I had retweeted I posted that he saw. It said, “how others treat you is there path and how I react was mine” and I had retweeted it and said “needed to hear that.”

So the next message he tried to throw a bunch of compliments at me (like that’s cute and all but I already know who I am and you definitely didn’t treat me like I had all those qualities). But what was glaring about that message was that fact that he said he shouldn't have been blunt that day, implying that he believes what he said was accurate but he just shouldn’t have said it.

After I ended things he asked if we could still be friends. I said yes even though I didn't meant it. I haven't spoken to him at all since.

About a week after breaking up we must have left campus this particular night at the same time because his car cut me off out of no where. He decided to switch lanes while still in my blindspot, almost causing an accident.

This may not mean anything at all, but I realized afterwards that he has 3 fb pages, I had never seen the other 2 before. Who does that and why???

Andd Aftermath:

Although I try to see the best in people, I always considered myself to be super cautious and generally don’t trust people easily so i’m kinda beating myself up over the fact that I allowed all of this happen. Like with dates I always kept them in a public space. The fact is my gut told me something was off, but I was so anxious about the LSAT that I thought the anxiety was just from that and not him and I didn’t trust it.

So now i’m at the stage of realizing he treated me really badly, the most was towards then end, but I just wish I noticed sooner.

Now I know that the person he presented in the beginning was just a facade to lure me in and it’s just so eerie to know it was a lie and to not know who he truly was.

I feel like I just always attract crazy, ill-intentioned people and that’s not my type at all!

(Blast to the Past)

There was the guy from a high school summer program cohort, who lived in a nearby state, who started messaging me about a year and a half ago and ended up wasting my time.

So the story goes this guy would text me everyday. It was platonic but he definitely made it seem like he was interested. (consistent communication, sharing personal things, asking advice on personal things, asking how I was, etc.) I found out he had a girlfriend, which ok fine but it was shady that he never mentioned her. So I stopped talking to him plus I was sorta distracted w/ someone else at the time. Well, he just texted me recently after A WHOLE YEAR of no communication in any form talkin bout wassup (with this lame ass sunglass wearing emoji). He wasn’t even cute to be quite honest and I’ve learned a l o t since the last time we talked so I ignored him.

And the person I was distracted with at the time was this stalker witch who somehow always showed up where I was even after we broke up. So me and this guy I met had this instant incredible connection, like we talked for hours the night we met and it just felt like i’ve known him, like super easy to talk to. Although he had traits that annoyed me overall it was pretty great (aside from huge thing he was lying about). I’ve always been uncomfortable being vulnerable, but with him I felt like I was able to be more physical and share my feelings and things I don’t talk to other people about and he was just a lot of fun. Looking back maybe there was some love bombing going on because I fell fast in like and caught feelings.

Fast forward and I found out he was a witch. We talked about religion and he mentioned mediating but I never thought in the witchcraft way (and that’s something I’ve never been exposed to). He talked about growing up muslim but not being religious so I thought oh he believes in God, he’s just not religious. Ending that was so very painful for me. He would always end up finding me and talking to me and I never got enough space until after he graduated. Even after he still found reasons to contact me until I blocked him. Each time he saw and spoke to me was like picking at a fresh scab. He even had the audacity to feel some type of way and thought I was judging him because of his beliefs. Like I’m very tolerant of people doing what they want as long as they don’t hurt others, but I deserved to know the truth and to choose for myself. Like how selfish to knowingly let someone fall for you and lie knowing there’s something about you that is fundamentally (cannot express fundamentally enough) against their belief system. As much as it hurt, if I have to choose between someone and God, I will always choose my Creator. If I knew from the beginning, none of that would have ever happened.

These are just the guys that made the list. There have been other freaks that have approached me.

-----

I really don’t understand because i’m not into “bad boys,” “fuck boys” or anything like that. I honestly just really want to be with a kind, sweet guy someday who has a genuinely good heart. But I seem to attract the wrong people, even outside of romance.

So the worst part for me I think is feeling like a perpetual magnet for crazy or ill-intentioned people, and in this last case, not noticing that he was a bad person sooner and for allowing someone to treat me so poorly. I know i’m a decent person overall, but part of me still wonders what’s wrong with me that I’m not good enough in their eyes to be treated with kindness and respect and honesty. (And yeah Ik that’s flawed thinking, but it’s what I thought and i’m working on changing that narrative.)

After these experiences how do I trust my judgement when it’s time to let someone else in again?

I am genuinely very intelligent, at least book smart, I can give good relationship advice to others, but when it comes to myself I just feel so freaking dumb.

I think that’s everything I need to let out. If not i’ll come back and edit.

I am journaling all of this so that I can let it go in the hopes of moving on and not bringing this with me into the new year. Also maybe someone can learn from my experiences.

#hella long stream of conciousness #dating shitty people #content being single #but very much touch starved #personal #don't really care if anyone reads though #it is super long but i am getting this ALL OUT #so that I can be FREE #have fun reading my novella lads #honesty hour #my truth(s)

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invincible-selfxmade-punk · 6 years

Text

Long post, coming up on my niece’s birthday

It started out to be such an adventure. We initially couldn’t believe our good luck: a long lost relative wanting to fly us to Washington DC for an impromptu family reunion to settle some matters over some land my father’s family in Lebanon were selling.

We had always dreamed of visiting DC, but, being poor, a dream was all it was. Suddenly we were there in this great hotel, hanging out with my Dad’s family who are all rich and cultured and have seen the world. It was wonderful.

Then, one night before we were to leave, we came back to the hotel and I saw I had texts on my phone, several texts. They were all from my mom’s side of the family or family friends telling me to call home right away. The home they were talking about is West Texas, the most backward, hateful, racist spot you can imagine, a place where the Civil War never really took place except in people’s minds and in their limited version of history, the South won.

My mom was a wonderful woman, what I remember of her. However the kids she had before me with another husband might as well have been space aliens for all we had in common. Being told to call home meant someone had taken someone hostage, someone was in jail, someone was in a mental institution, someone had the SWAT team called on them, someone needed to be talked out of having an abortion, someone had just punched a cop, or someone was going to court over a dispute with their neighbors.

None of these things could be changed by me, especially not me in Washington DC a million miles from home. So I did my best to ignore them until I couldn’t.

I try to avoid that side of the family as much as I can because any attempt to communicate or help gets me yelled at, cussed out, my inbox filled with hate mail and leads to me having to block relatives on every social network before the make their opinions of me public. So I got the clever idea to just go stalk their facebook pages rather than talk to them directly in order to find out what was going on.

THIS IS HOW I FOUND OUT MY NIECE HAD KILLED HERSELF.

There are a million details and footnotes to this story but drugs had turned her into another person. We had once been best friends, more like sisters than anything. We had grown up together, taken care of each other. She might as well have been an orphan as both of her parents gave up rights to her and left her with an alcoholic, abusive, shrew of a grandmother. We were always there for each other until she married a second time and discovered money, plastic surgery and Oxycontin.

“They You took for granted your soul and it’s ours now to steal… NOW YOUR NIGHTMARE COMES TO LIFE…..”

As if this was not enough, being a million miles away, not being able to go home for the funeral and pretty damn sure no one wanted me there anyway, despite what they said, there was more to this anniversary.

At the same time I had three “best” friends turn their backs on me, even though I had just announced I was having a nervous breakdown and needed a break from everyone and for everyone t either treat me gently or give me space. I had two best friends become best friends with each other and gang up on me and one that it turned out just didn’t give a damn. These weren’t just random people. One I had known for 4 years, one I had known for 8 years and one I had known for 25 years.

The two that chose each other over me had made a point of making friends w/ several other friends (online) and rather than have THOSE friends abandon me too, I jumped ship and left them before they could leave me. Maybe not the most mature thing but how the hell was I to know who cared and who didn’t? I mean if someone dumps me after 25 years, who’s to say that five year friendship I thought I had actually existed. So in the end I lost a handful of friends, all of which I’d had for years, and my niece, and my ability to trust anyone ever again.

Sure, I’d been turned on before. It happened all the time, but when “those girls” turned on me “these friends” were the ones to pick me up, back me up, and keep me sane. Now “these friends’ were "those girls”.

And so here I am a year later. I won’t say I’m friendless because I’m not. However I make every effort to keep myself far apart from the world and only rely on myself no matter how bad things get. Because you never know. The person who was there for you, the one you told all your secrets to, could be the very one using those very secrets against you tomorrow.

In the end it’s just better to be alone. I should have learned that years ago with the AFI girls. I should have learned that after Jimmy’s death when I was kicked out of every A7X community by saying someone should stepped up and forced his ass into rehab.

And maybe I’ll never learn it, but I have learned to be careful.

LeAnn,

I read the news today oh boy About a lucky man who made the GRADE And though the news was rather sad Well I just had to laugh I saw the photograph He blew his mind out in a car He didn’t notice that the lights had changed

I am still mad at you. I am still so angry that you took this way out, after your step dad did the same, after your aunt did the same, after our best friend in the whole world had her life and the life of her unborn son ripped away from her. And you just gave it up. And I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you were abused. I’m sorry your life did not turn out the way you wanted it. I’m sorry for the voices in your head and I’m sorry for them men who were supposed to love and protect you and ended up abusing you, terrifying you and ultimately ending your life. I’m sorry you didn’t call me. I’m sorry we stopped talking. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.

I think about the concerts we went to: Danzig Smashing Pumpkins Tesla Pantera

I think of the times we got drunk and should have died. I think of how we buried your step dad (my brother-in-law) and Margo, our mutual best friend, within weeks of each other. And having gone through this you still chose to take your life.

I’m so sorry I wasn’t there! I miss you so much it feels like my heart is being torn out from inside my body. I should have wished you a happy birthday. I should have called you, I should have kept bugging you on facebook even if you kept blocking me. I should have kept trying. I thought you were happy, I had no idea.

“Please forgive me I can’t forgive you now”

Well, I’m mad, but I forgive you because I’ve been there. There are times I’m not sure what kept me from it. Our family is cursed, you know? You have to have realized tha

But we all die, right? Sooner or later. Margo and I used to laugh about how I thought the angels looked like Will Sexton. Who knows maybe they do. I think about it a lot and I try not to be scared. I think of you and mom and dad and Mimi and Margo and Jim all waiting for me.

We have 20 years to go. My internal clock is ticking. Remember how fast 20 years went? How one day we were 15 together listening to Poison and trying to make sense of the world, then we blinked and we were 35 and Jim and Margo were dead and we were married? I only have 20 more years of life left in me and then I will be joining you.

I hope you forgive me, I hope you take me back. I hope you remember how we were children once and how we kept each other alive when everyone else gave up on us. I hope you’ll forgive me for not keeping up my end of that promise once you started doing drugs. I never stopped loving you, I was just hurt. In 20 years I’ll find you and then we’ll both go find Mom and Margo and Jim. And speaking of Jim, after you take me to meet Kurt Cobain, there’s a guy named Jimmy Sullivan I want you to meet. You’ll love him, he’s a lot like Margo. In fact, I think they may have been separated at birth. 20 years, meet me at the gates. I’ll be the one w/ all the tattoos that the angels are looking at suspiciously.

t at some point. It’s just the way of things.

#long post #rant #essay #grief #loss #remembering #LeAnn

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