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sweetsubharry · 3 years

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hey ! sorry to bother you but could you reccomend me some fics of footballer louis?? thank you !! love your acc

Hiya!! 💖you can never bother me!! ^-^ ohmgosh I’m so glad you like my blog! I love footballer louis djskasdhjag tysm(sorry it took soooo long!)

please make sure you read the tags and stay safe everyone!💖

Also these are not in any particular order, however I will say the first two are probably my favourites ;) I have to read them again right after this!

freeze this moment in a frame and stay like this by rosesau

Harry (not so) secretly crushes on the cute footie player and fills pages with sketches of him.

Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow by 1Diamondinthesun

Harry spends most of his time in an empty house or a lonely darkroom, dreaming of leaving his small town for art school. He's invisible to most people. And then Louis Tomlinson sees him. Life will never be the same.

Or, the American high school AU loosely inspired by She's All That.

Definition of Beauty by zanni_scaramouche

“Your book is upside down.” Harry nods at Louis’ book, his history text now that he sees it too.

“I’d rather study you.”

They both blink, startled by the slip.

“With you. Study with you,” Louis rushes to say. “Liam says I’m shite at history, can you help?”

Louis’ caught off guard by an omega he nearly takes out with an errant footie ball. It’s not that Louis’ never seen Harry before, it’s that he can’t stop looking, and he’s desperate to figure him out.

Coffee Cups and Football Boots by kimtaedumb

Harry’s stood behind the counter again, but this time he’s painting his nails. Louis strolls up to the counter and, thanks to his no brain-to-mouth filter, blurts out, “Isn’t that a little girlish, Haz?” leaning closer to inspect.

Harry lets out a little huff as his hand slips, “Oh, damn, now I’ve messed it up,” he pouts and turns to Louis, “Why should making myself feel pretty be girly?”

Louis holds up his hands in surrender, “’M not judging, jus’ curious is all.”

(The entirely cheesy and cliché Christmas AU, in which Harry doesn’t give a damn what people think about him – mostly – and Louis may be a little bit in love.

Alternatively, the one in which Harry owns a café that’s barely scraping by and Louis is a footballer and he takes Harry away for Christmas.

Featuring Zayn as a cocky little shit that most definitely needs to be put back in his place, Niall as the loveable Irish dude who drinks too much and flirts with Zayn more than the average girl, and Liam who loves everyone but hates them all at the same time.)

Way in the World by flowsque

When Louis Tomlinson enters the waiting room, Harry can distinctly feel his heart sinking to his stomach. The man's hair is ruffled and dishevelled and his red jersey, damp with sweat from training, clings to his perfect and chiseled body. He stands there, almost unreal, against the glass door, peering inside the office. Harry knew this would’ve happened, sooner or later. That he would have bumped into him. They play for the same club after all, even if they’re in different leagues. It’s not weird. It is not. Except it totally is. - Or, the one where Harry has a knee injury and an embarrassing crush on Manchester United's pretty number ten.

I Long For You by AnotherAnonymousWriter

Thirty minutes later, he's sat on a bench in Hyde Park with a book in his lap and a travel mug with hot tea in his hand. Not far from where he's sat, a group of boys are playing football and a bunch of children are chasing each other. Life is good.

Or at least, life is good until he hears a familiar “LOOK OUT!” and sees a football flying in the direction of his face.

And then everything is black.

(Harry gets hit in the head by various objects and falls for a boy with blue eyes.)

ease the quiet and talk me down by cabinbythesea

Harry's a model and Louis' a footie player.

(Louis teaches Harry some football and Harry is insanely good at giving a lapdance).

Baby, It's You by Bearandleonardwrite

"Oh, yeah. Um..” Harry lets his hands fall to his sides. His brows furrow, face full of concern, and he asks, “You’re not, like, stalking me, are you?”

Louis can’t help the loud cackle that escapes his lips and immediately slaps one of his hands over his mouth to muffle the sound. “Oh my god, Harry, no!” Louis tells him, a little breathlessly, giggles still bubbling out of his chest. “Lottie’s one of the makeup artists here today and she somehow got me to agree to come. I had no idea you modeled for, uh.. this brand until I saw you walk.”

“Oh,” Harry says dumbly, eyebrows still pinched. He lets what Louis just said sink in before a bright grin takes over his face and he goes back to doing up the buttons on his shirt. “Well, that’s alright, then. I’m glad you could make it.

(Basically, Louis' a footie player for Man U and Harry's a YSL model. They meet at a masquerade.)

Touch by kotabear24

Harry's shy and virginal with a past, new on the football team; Louis' the (experienced) popular star of the team and Harry's new mentor.

Come In and Change My Life by lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes)

He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment. He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped. He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was. Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.

Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

see the truth (it's me for you) by orphan_account

If you asked Louis the first day of his French Literature class what he’d be doing on the last, he’d probably never have guessed it would involve helping a poorly Harry Styles study for the final exam. Good thing he’s not a betting man.

(Or the one where Louis and Harry spend an entire semester ignoring each other after a one-night stand, only to come face to face when Harry manages to catch the stomach flu during finals week. Sometimes fate is funny like that.)

Use Your Words by zedi

based off this prompt: collage au where jock!harry always serenades flowercrown!louis with love songs in their music class. what nobody knows is that harry actually kinda means the words he sings.

But instead it's Louis as the jock and Harry as the flowerchild because I do what I want.

Stop The World (I Wanna Get Off With You) by ilikepianos

"You like this, don't you?", he asks breathlessly.

What? Sucking cock? Being dominated? Yes, all of that. A big fat yes.

Harry nods, lips still wrapped around Louis' throbbing dick.

Louis' lips curl into a smirk. "Keep going then. You're doing amazing, love."

OR: The uni-football AU where Harry may or may not have a minor crush on the captain of the team and suddenly discovers that the feeling is very much mutual.

Picture Perfect by LittleBubbleStyles

an AU where Louis Tomlinson is a misunderstood football player, and Harry Styles is a misunderstood photographer. Somehow, they're understood together.

I just think about my baby; I'm so full of love I could barely eat by mercutionotromeo

Harry and Louis are six hundred miles apart, but they have the same solutions to the same problem.

Or: a masturbation drabble featuring pillow humping, locker rooms, and copious amounts of dirty talk.

into another (another) serotonin overflow by mercutionotromeo

Harry wants this year to be different - wants it to be the year that he finally gets over this stupid crush. He’s going to uni, he needs to decide what he wants to do with his life.

Instead, he’s deciding what he wants to do to Louis Tomlinson.

Or: Sweet first time sex wherein Harry's adorably awkward, Louis is achingly cool, and Harry rides Louis wearing his jersey.

note: it says it in the tag but this is the edited version written in 2019, rather than the 2017 original- so there’s two put I put the link for the newest one :)

need a little sweetness in my life by mercutionotromeo

Harry's always liked feeling desperate and small when Louis touches him, but when he sucks Harry off...it’s fucking otherworldly. Desperate’s not really the word at that point - it’s helpless. Like… like the fucking world could stop spinning and Harry wouldn’t be able to do anything about it until Louis finished him off with his lips and his tongue.

Or, Harry and Louis go to university together. Harry really likes it when Louis sucks him off, and Louis really likes it when Harry calls him Daddy.

(Sequel to "into another serotonin overflow")

I made a map of your stars by brightbluelou

Harry does not have a crush on Louis Tomlinson. Yes, Louis is very pretty and funny, and Harry may have had more than a few inappropriate thoughts about him, but he certainly doesn’t like him. (Except for the fact that he totally does.) or, Harry is the shy boy in the back of the class that no one really notices. Louis is the loud, outgoing football player that everybody likes.

We Made These Memories for Ourselves by supernope

Breath held, Harry squints his eyes open and focuses on the first stick. A blue line. Harry breathes out an unsteady breath. He’s pretty sure he read that one blue line is a negative, but he fishes the box from the bottom of the pile just to make sure.

“Negative,” he confirms, voice echoing around the small room. “Next.”

Now that he’s feeling a little less shaky, he scans the rest of the tests at once, is met with a headache-inducing mixture of pink plus signs and blue double lines. His heart rate picks up until it’s pounding triple-time in the base of his throat and the pit of his stomach, thundering in his ears and throbbing in his temples. He flips over the rest of the boxes slowly, but he knows what they’re going to say before he even looks.

[or, Louis is a footballer, Harry owns a bakery, and they're having a baby.]

Kiss Me on the Mouth and Set Me Free by ls2k14

Louis has his head thrown back in a laugh, his wet fringe hanging in front of his eyes, and a beautiful flush to his cheeks. From this angle, the sun hits his face just right to where the beams of light are shining in between the spaces of each individual clump of watered down eyelashes. His chest is showing through the soaked material of his white jersey and it seems that his biceps are attempting to break free from the sleeves that are clinging to his skin.

And Harry can do nothing except take it all in. He doesn’t even think he’s breathing at this point. He is literally stuck in place, admiring the true beauty of Louis Tomlinson, while being surrounded by fit footballers and generally attractive people. He doesn’t think he’s ever been in love before, but if Louis let him, he’s pretty damn sure he could change that in the matter of a few nanoseconds.

#ask lots #Lottie fic rec #fic rec #larry fic rec #larry stylinson fic rec #larry fanfic rec #fanfiction #larry fanfiction #larry stylinson fanfiction #bottom harry #top louis #sub harry #dom louis #footballer louis au

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taeyongdoyoung · 3 years

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summary: the forest is your only escape from the everyday troubles with your family until you find danger lurking behind the trees. or rather, danger finds you. your fateful encounter with the vampire ravn leaves you wishing for a different life. you strike an unexpected deal with the stranger that will soon turn into something more…

pairing: vampire! human ravn x reader

side characters: seoho, xion, non-binary oc named robin inspired by the wonderful @byccn 💜

genre: vampire!au, romance, humour, FLUFF

warnings: i don’t think there are any?? just sweet tooth-rotting fluff, some biting, a few shakespeare references, some swear words and a lot of cheesy lines, i mean, they’re eating pizza in italy and it’s valentine’s day soo...

word count: 2.3k

author’s note: the final chapter of twilight has arrived, i just want to thank you all so much for embarking on this journey with me, for reading it and for leaving your comments, it truly feels like the end of an era but i hope everyone enjoyed reading my story as much as i enjoyed writing it, i don’t know what else to say other than “parting is such sweet sorrow” 🥺🥺💞💞

part one 🌙 part two 🌙 part three 🌙 part four 🌙 part five 🌙 part six 🌙 part seven 🌙 part eight 🌙 part nine 🌙 part ten🌙 part eleven 🌙part twelve

You felt like you were dreaming but no matter how many times you pinched yourself, you didn’t wake up, because this was reality. Ravn was safe and sleeping soundly, his arms wrapped around you. And he was so warm you’d have a difficult time getting used to it. But it didn’t matter, because you loved him for him and that was all that mattered. You ran a gentle hand through his dark hair. He was still so beautiful, still so soft, still your Ravn. And despite the fact that he, too, was mortal now, you had the strange feeling you had all the time in the world. And in a way, it was true. You were so far away from any dangers that this newfound sense of freedom seemed eternal.

“Are you watching me sleep?” Ravn murmured curiously.

You attempted to withdraw your hand, but his reflexes were still fast enough to catch you.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he opened his eyes and smiled at you fondly.

“I just can’t believe this. You’re alive,” you pointed out.

Ravn chuckled.

“Me neither. I’ve wished for this for so long that now when it actually happened it seems unreal.”

“Well, no use questioning it, let’s just enjoy ourselves,” you quickly kissed his lips and intended to get out of bed to brush your teeth, but Ravn stopped you by holding onto your hand and pulling you close.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He kissed you once more, this time more deeply and not willing to let go.

“Mmm, Ravn, darling…” you tried to argue.

“Stay a bit longer,” he pleaded sweetly.

“You’re impossible to resist,” you laughed and started kissing his neck, occasionally biting him gently, which amused him immensely.

“Oh, no, I’ve corrupted you entirely,” Ravn wailed.

You rolled your eyes and pressed your hands against his cheeks.

“I love you,” you said seriously.

“I would not wish any companion in the world but you,” Ravn replied and your eyes filled with happy tears.

“My favourite Shakespeare nerd,” you stroked his chin.

“Am I not the only Shakespeare nerd you know?” he challenged.

“Well, he will never admit it, but Seoho is secretly as much of a Shakespeare enthusiast as we are,” you joked.

“But you like me more, right?” he had to make sure.

“Of course, silly, is this even a question?”

“Let’s get up and annoy him about it, then!” Ravn suggested excitedly.

“Unbelievable,” you giggled and sneaked out of his arms. “Bathroom’s mine first!”

Ravn hurriedly chased you but to your complete amazement, you beat him to it. Now that he was human, too, it was all fair and square.

“Come on, sweetheart, let me in!” Ravn complained, knocking on the door.

You smirked triumphantly as you were putting toothpaste on your new brush.

“What will I get out of this?” you bargained, suddenly remembering one of your initial encounters. It felt like a century ago.

“More kisses? My undying affection? Anything you wish, I just really need to…”

You quickly opened the door upon hearing the desperation in his voice. He was only human, after all, the thought making you laugh.

“Thank you!” Ravn rushed inside. He was obviously on a mission.

A couple of minutes later, you were both out of the bathroom and dressing up for the day.

“Being a human is so hard,” he complained. “So many needs.”

“Come on, you’ve been human before,” you reminded him.

“How do you deal with all this?” Ravn asked, overwhelmed by everything new.

“It’s just life, I guess,” you shrugged. “Don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of it soon enough. And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“Unless when you lock me out of the bathroom,” he teased you.

“A mistake I won’t repeat again,” you chuckled. “We’ll have to share.”

“I can live with that,” he winked. “For the rest of my life.”

These were words you’d never expected to hear and yet, they’d somehow turned into the much needed reality.

🌙🌙🌙

“Now that Ravn’s human, you won’t say stuff like ‘all humans are trash’, will you, Seoho?” you joked over breakfast as you were spreading jam over a slice of bread.

“Unfortunately, I’ve been forced to change my mindset,” Seoho groaned and added under his breath. “Ugh, humans.”

“Hey, I heard that!” Ravn scolded him.

“I thought your super hearing was gone?” Seoho asked awkwardly.

“It is, but I can still hear shit,” he punched his friend playfully.

“Fine, fine, I’ll try not to be a dick.”

“Thank you very much,” you said. “I’m thinking of checking out the local bookshops today. Ravn, do you want to come with?”

“You know it,” he gave you a high five.

“Seoho, do you want to join us?” you offered politely, because after all, if it hadn’t been for Seoho’s magical abilities, you probably wouldn’t be here, in Verona, alive.

“So I can watch you lick each other’s faces between the bookshelves? I’ll pass,” Seoho scoffed.

“Hey, if it makes you uncomfortable, we’ll stop doing it in front of you,” you promised.

“Nah, it’s fine. I have other plans, anyways.”

“You do?” Ravn eyed him suspiciously.

“I’m not telling you anything,” Seoho finished his juice, got up from the table and grabbed his jacket. “Have fun, nerds!”

Before you could register where he was going, Seoho had teleported himself out of the room.

“Okay, that was weird,” you pointed out.

“Definitely. We’ll grill him for more information when he comes back,” Ravn vowed. “But for now, let’s finish our human breakfast and explore the town.”

“It would be my honour,” you smiled.

🌙🌙🌙

Seoho’s POV

Was I being too obvious? I knew that sooner or later I’d have to inform Ravn and Y/N what this was about, but I didn’t want to jinx it. After all, there wasn’t much to tell. Not yet, at least. The truth was that yesterday when I’d gone to buy pizza and pancakes for my friends, I’d seen someone that grabbed my attention rightaway. They had beautiful short hair, a vibrant smile and they were selling ice-cream. At the time, I couldn’t muster up the courage to talk to them, even though I was usually confident and carefree. There was something special about this person. And despite my previous distrust of humans, I realized I could no longer be so prejudiced about them. My best friend was now human and his girlfriend had proved me wrong countless times. Maybe it was because I was in a new town, where no one knew me. Maybe it was because after almost losing Ravn, I had realized that life was too short and precious and I had to make each day count. I don’t know what exactly came over me but when I lied to my friends about having plans, I decided I want to see the person selling ice-cream again. And this time, I would talk to them.

Luckily, I was good at finding my way around. I quickly remembered where the pizza place was and that the ice-cream stand was right around the corner. I felt a bit nervous, but I knew that I had nothing to lose, so I approached it. They were there. The minute I saw their smile I forgot everything that I had planned I would say. How I wanted to play it cool and tell them I really like their style and their hair and…Before I could open my mouth, they’d spotted me and spoke first.

“Hi, would you like to order some ice-cream?” were the cheerful first words they said to me.

“Um, hi, yeah, what would you recommend?” I asked.

“My personal favourite is chocolate,” they replied.

“Alright, then, I’ll have that.”

“Sure thing,” they smiled and started scooping up a ball of chocolate ice-cream as I placed the money on the table. Now was my chance to say something dumb or remain silent and regret it forever. Or I could just come back again tomorrow. I wouldn’t do that, right?

🌙🌙🌙

I was a fool. I did come back again the following day. And the day after. I came back to that ice-cream place every day for two whole weeks, without succeeding to say much to the person I was obviously crushing on, other than the usual small talk surrounding the process of buying ice-cream. I tried all the different flavours until one day the unimaginable happened.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow,” I murmured instead of goodbye.

“Actually, I won’t be here tomorrow,” they responded sadly. “You see, this was just a summer job for me and I’m going back to college so I won’t have time to work.”

“Oh, I see,” I replied dumbly. “Well, in that case…”

“Can I get your number?” they beat me to it. “Or at least your name?”

Internally, I was screaming with joy. Externally, I attempted to maintain a perfectly composed expression.

“Seoho,” I said, already writing down my phone number on a napkin. “And yours?”

“Robin,” they chuckled. “Wow, you’re so old-fashioned, you could have just typed it in.”

I shrugged and handed them the silly napkin.

“Better not lose it,” I warned them.

“No worries, I’ll treasure it forever.”

“Well, technically, the ink will probably wear off with time…”

“Wow, way to kill the mood,” Robin laughed and I could swear, I would never get tired of that beautiful sound.

“Sorry,” I looked down apologetically.

“I can’t help but wonder what took you so long?” they further amazed me with such a straightforward question.

“Um, I’m shy?”

“Me too, but it had to be done,” Robin winked.

In that moment, I had already made up my mind. Maybe humans weren’t so bad after all…

🌙🌙🌙

One year later

You were sitting next to your fiancé, holding hands under the table at a pizza restaurant because you didn’t want your engagement rings to show. You intended to surprise your friends Seoho and Robin and had kept it a secret for a while. A week had passed since Ravn proposed to you. He had booked plane tickets to Paris for a weekend getaway and what you thought was simply a short vacation turned into the best moment of your life. Forever the romantic, Ravn had completely amazed you with the unexpected question. An evening walk alongside the Seine River and under the city lights, French music playing all around…You had been so overwhelmed by positive emotions that you burst into tears before managing to respond. Ravn had gotten worried that he’d upset you and you’d somehow succeeded in letting him know you were happy crying and that of course you’d marry him. It felt like a dream come true.

As you were waiting for your friends to arrive, you and Ravn exchanged a knowing look.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Born ready,” you replied, completely certain of your feelings for him.

He squeezed your hand in support and soon after, your friends showed up.

“Hi, darling,” you hugged Robin tightly. “Seoho.”

“We have news,” Ravn announced directly.

“Can it wait?” Seoho inquired. “We kinda have a surprise that’s waiting outside.”

“Oh? You got us a puppy?” you asked, guessing wrongly.

“Nah, it’s not a puppy,” Seoho chuckled. “Much better, actually.”

“Come on, tell us already!” Ravn insisted.

“Okay, stay here, I’ll get the surprise rightaway. Robin, keep them occupied.”

Robin rolled their eyes.

“So bossy,” they complained affectionately after Seoho was out of earshot. “Anyways, how have you two been?”

“Splendid,” you squealed. “We can’t wait to tell you the big news, but apparently Seoho’s going to steal our thunder.”

“Yeah, so rude of him,” Ravn joked.

“Oh, trust me, it’ll be worth it,” Robin promised, already aware of who was standing outside.

“It better be,” you laughed.

As soon as you’d said that, Seoho returned, holding a young-looking guy you’d never seen before under his arm. The first thing you noticed was his pale skin that looked so out of place next to Seoho’s flushed cheeks. And your limited experience led you to the conclusion that this was probably a vampire.

“X-xion,” Ravn stammered in shock and quickly rushed to get up and hug his friend he hadn’t seen in way too long, completely forgetting about the secret you were supposed to hide under the table.

“It’s been a while,” Xion replied. “Sorry for showing up unannounced…but I wanted to see you.”

“Of course, it’s not a problem,” Ravn reassured him. “This is Y/N, my…fiancée,” he introduced you, dropping the other big surprise for the evening.

“HOLY SHIT,” Robin exclaimed, finally noticing the rings. “Congratulations!”

Seoho didn’t seem shocked at all, the magical bastard had probably read your thoughts a long time ago.

“T-thanks,” you murmured nervously. “And it’s really nice to meet you, Xion. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

He shook your hand awkwardly and smiled.

“So, what brings you here?” Ravn asked his friend.

“Well, Seoho mentioned about…you know…how Y/N and you…and how you’re no longer…you know.”

“It’s okay, Xion,” Robin chuckled. “Seoho told me everything about the supernatural world, you don’t need to speak in riddles.”

The vampire scratched the back of his head bashfully.

“And like, I was wondering if it was possible for this miracle to happen to me, too. So I came to ask for advice.”

“You want to be human, too?” Ravn inquired. “Are you sure you’ve thought this through?”

You gave your fiancé and Xion an encouraging smile.

“There’s nothing I’d like more,” he confessed openly.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, it’s not like I was planning for this to happen.”

“Anything can be helpful,” Xion pleaded. “Just tell me the whole story. How you met Y/N. How you fell in love. Don’t leave anything out.”

“It’s gonna be a long night,” you teased.

“Well, it all started at twilight…”

The end

#oneus #ravn #ravn x reader #ravn moodboard #twilight #oneus fanfic #kim youngjo #seoho #xion #ravn fluff #romance #vampire au #vampires #writing

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buckyswinterbaby · 3 years

Text

Always By My Side — Chapter 1

Click here to read the Prologue.

Synopsis: The fates have spent millenniums correcting the daily mishaps that interfere with soulmates ever meeting. Will they find a way to bring together Bucky and Zara, two people separated by time and circumstance, just as they’ve done a thousand times before?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Black!OFC Ziarah Heartwell

Warnings (will change with each chapter): flashbacks, PTSD, mentions of past sexual assault, angst, bits of fluff

Word Count: 3,791

Acknowledgement: I’ve created this AU alongside my best friend Taylor in roleplays, along with many of the plots and scenes that will be featured. I’m posting this with his expressed permission as we both continue to work on the story in our chat. Credit for its creation goes to both of us.

Please like, comment, and reblog (I love that shit). The divider was created by me, please credit me if you use it. The gifs are not mine. Click here to fill out the form to be added to my tag list!

Note: Here’s chapter one of my new series “Always By My Side”. It takes place in a soulmate AU where a bond is triggered when one or both halves experience a life threatening level of distress. The bond allows them to see imaginary versions of their soulmates to help support them while they wait to meet their other half. Just a warning, up until we reach the current time in the story, there will be significant time skips for plot progression’s sake. The time changes will always be labeled.

Addition: I said I’d tag you when I posted my WOC OFC story so here’s chapter one, @bucky-the-thigh-slayer !

[Bucharest, Romania -- 2016]

The Romanian streets were bustling with early morning energy as Bucky took the final steps outside of the clearly worn apartment complex that he had been calling home for sometime. He seemed unfazed by the sixteen year old girl practically jogging to keep up in step with his longer strides. He had grown rather accustomed to her presence and her commentary since she first appeared to him in 2014. It had been during his final brainwashing session with Hydra before they fell. He couldn’t help but view her as a banshee of sorts, harkening the end of what remained of his mental stability. He couldn’t fathom another reason as to why he would hallucinate an opinionated teenage girl.

Even so, he found comfort in their conversations and how at ease she seemed around him. Almost as if she had always been with him, a piece of himself that still saw the good that was left. Never addressing him with fear or apprehension, never as the monster and killer he was forced to become.

Her features were young and innocent, seemingly unscarred by life despite the bruises that graced her skin--which he was never sure why they existed. At first, he feared that she had been one of his countless victims who had returned to haunt him in her afterlife, though the theory became less likely to him as more time passed.

The defined coils of her hair were pushed up into a messy bun, edges laid smoothly to her forehead in defined loops. When she first started showing up, Bucky had attempted to make sense of the witty phrases and references that so frequently adorned her clothes but he had long since given up on ever understanding them. He had to admit that the shirt she wore that day, a middle finger painted with pink, yellow, and blue, was quite the fashion choice. Not that he could particularly judge with his similar pieces of clothing that were practically identical besides in color.

The pair made their way down the familiar stretch of pavement on their way to the outdoor market that Bucky had made a habit of visiting. He had found that a reliable schedule throughout his week helped him better grasp the passing of time, a fact that his companion had been informing him of for weeks before it finally seemed to click.

The girl’s nose clinked as they neared the fresh fish stand, just as it did every week. Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle at her childish antics as they were so few and far between for someone who seemed quite mature despite her appearance.

“It smells like cat food,” she whined, making a clear act of breathing primarily through her mouth as she jogged to keep up. “How are you not gagging?”

“Not all of us have the luxury of being a figment of someone’s imagination, Zara. If I start gagging, I have a feeling a few people will start to notice.” The man gave her a knowing look. Drawing attention to himself was the exact opposite of what he wanted during his brief outings. “Besides, I can’t say I’ve smelt cat food or have any intention to. So I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

Zara rolled her eyes as the smell began to dissipate the further they moved past the stand, her trademark smile working its way onto her features. “Could’ve had me fooled, I thought that was your guilty pleasure. I can’t say I’ve ever intentionally gotten a whiff, but when I feed the outdoor cats at my house, it’s kinda unavoidable.” She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly as if it was the most natural thing in the world for an imaginary person to have their own home and animals.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed as he narrowed his eyes down to her smaller form beside him. “You don’t have a cat because you aren’t even real,” he retorted. Somehow the idea that she could be real made her presence in his life even harder. The idea that she was just some girl he had passed by in the street or on a mission and his brain decided she’d make the ideal emotional support apparition.

“Who are you to declare that?”

“The creepy hundred year old man who hallucinates a sixteen year old girl, occasionally in her pajamas, for one.” His voice raised a bit louder than he intended, drawing the attention of a few nearby pedestrians. Bucky offered them an awkward smile before ducking back down under the bill of his hat and picking up his pace a bit. She couldn’t argue with his logic so she focused on keeping up until they reached their destination, the produce stand that had the best plums in the city, or so Bucky described.

Zara watched as he spoke Romanian with the merchant, only catching a few words she had learnt over the past few months from their conversations. She couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly Bucky seemed to interact with the man and how it contrasted so starkly to how he acted when he first arrived in the city. Decades of next to no positive human interaction left the soldier awkward and clunky in his exchanges, often stumbling through questions and requests, or simply forgetting them altogether. It had taken a great deal of patience and metaphorical hand holding to build up his confidence and ease his anxiety on the matter.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to blend in, in fact he was almost too good at it at times. Over their conversations, she had managed to show him that yes, blending in made him go through the motions of life, which was better than nothing. Yet, the beauty of his life now and the freedom that came with it was that he no longer had to settle for simply surviving and he could instead use it as a chance to learn to live again. It started small, like convincing him to get a pillow and blanket for the mattress on the floor, to which they compromised with a sleeping bag. Soon came two pillows for the couch and a lone floor lamp that he shoved in the corner near his bed for the late nights when night terrors had him scribbling away in his journals. They were minor improvements, in truth, but the progress spoke volumes as Bucky worked on building a place that felt a bit more permanent than his last few hideouts.

Zara had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t even registered that Bucky completed his purchase and had moved to stand at the edge of the sidewalk. She approached him curiously, watching the way he hesitantly analyzed the seemingly anxious newspaper peddler from across the street. It was very clear something was wrong from the way his demeanor had changed.

“Buchanan?” Her voice raised a bit at the end of his name, concern now replacing her curiosity as he began to make his way to the stand. He either didn’t hear her--which she found unlikely--or he simply opted to ignore her as he picked up the paper, ocean blue eyes scanning over the headline. The color seemed to drain from both of their faces as they took the accusation in, not having to speak to know what it meant.

Bucky would have to pick up his life, yet again, and run. Find a new country, new home, and start the process all over again. The ex-assassin hardly seemed surprised at the realization, as there is no rest for the wicked.

[Boston, Massachusetts -- 2016]

Zara made her way down the hallway to her bedroom, an imaginary version of Bucky trailing along behind her. She let her book bag drop to the floor once she entered the room, stepping out of her shoes before flopping down onto the soft, sunflower themed duvet of her bed. A look of weightlessness overtook her features as she let the events of the day settle in. Today she would graduate with a PhD in Biomedical Engineering from MIT, top of her class. It was the culmination of years of pouring herself over every textbook her parent’s provided, testing out and early graduations. At only sixteen, Zara would join the ranks of some of the youngest individuals to ever receive a doctoral degree. It truly seemed unreal to her.

Emerald eyes drifted to where Bucky sat at her desk, his arms crossed loosely in front of his chest.

“I wish you could be there tomorrow,” Zara commented, propping herself up on her elbows as her fingers pulled at the frayed threads on the yellow quilt folded at the end of her bed.

A smile teased the corner of Bucky’s lips as he leaned back against her swivel chair, long hair swaying as he tilted his head to the left to look at her. “I will be there, maybe not in person, but I’ll be there cheering right along with everyone else,’ he assured.

“It’s not the same and you know it, Buchanan.”

“I know. Just try to focus on the positives. Tomorrow is your day, you’ve more than earned it.”

Zara nodded, though her disappointment was still evident. On the average day, Bucky’s seemingly invisible presence to everyone else but her came in handy. As she was willing to bet her parents wouldn’t be too keen on the amount of time she spent alone with the grown man, let alone if they knew who he was. The public’s perception of James Buchanan Barnes, who she had quickly identified him as, was low to say the very least. Though it was days like this that she found herself wishing the most that he could truly exist in her life outside of her mind.

She could never quite pinpoint why she began hallucinating him two years prior. Though, the time before and after her fourteenth birthday had flown by in a post traumatic daze so it was even more difficult to analyze. The aftermath of four older boys assaulting her in her own bedroom left her wishing to repress that portion of her life altogether. Zara squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the ghost of their hands on her body. Grabbing, groping, pulling and tearing at clothes. She had hardly seen them since their attack but her mind was still trapped in the room with them.The feeling took her back to meeting Bucky that night, or more so the Winter Soldier, as he appeared at that time.

Upon entering her room, Zara failed to notice the masked man sitting silently in the corner of the room, illuminated only by the small lamp on her bedside stand. When she caught a glimpse of the figure, her body jumped to it’s fight response, just as it had an hour or so before. The young girl grabbed the closest thing she could find, a textbook on advanced chemistry, and held onto it tightly before turning to face the intruder.

“You need to leave,” she ordered, her voice wavering at the end of the demand. Her green eyes only met a pair of dark glasses securely strapped to his face. She couldn’t make out any facial features to identify him by, as all but his forehead and hair was covered.

It wasn’t just his silence that sent an unnerved shiver down her spine. It was his demeanor, cold and nearly unresponsive to her presence and defensive stance. Had his head not briefly turned her way when she started to speak, she’d question if he even heard her at all.

A large gun, likely a rifle from what she could tell, was resting across his lap. His hands weren’t actively gripping it, but something told her he could take aim in the time it took her to breathe her next breath. A variety of handguns and knives were also visible from the holsters adorning his thighs. If he had this many weapons visible, Zara could only imagine how many he had stashed under his tactical vest and heavy boots.

Her green eyes followed where she believed his gaze had drifted. He seemed laser focused on the strip of light just barely visible from under her door as a roar of laughter could be heard from just outside. His hand moved to rest just over the barrel of his gun. The young girl analyzed him for another moment before lowering the textbook, while still keeping it tightly in her hands.

“Will you at least tell me why you’re here?” There was a hint of desperation in her voice, one that vocalized all of the fear she had been trying to hide. She was met with more silence, which quickly became deafening to her. She was afraid to make a move to get his attention again, naturally unsure of how he would react. Yet, at the same time she couldn’t relax, not with him in her space.

After another few moments of no response, she allowed herself to consider the possibility that he wasn’t actually there. She had just been through something horribly traumatic and it was entirely possible that this was her brain's way of coping with the stress and fear. That it had conjured some masked figure to sit at her bedroom door and keep all the bad away.

She knew how best to test her theory, but she recognized the risk that came with it as she picked up a neon pink highlighter that she had been using earlier that night. She gripped it for a moment while weighing her options, throwing it across the room only seconds later. She didn’t put too much force behind it, hoping that if it gently came into contact, he’d be less likely to be angry. The consideration meant very little as the marker passed straight through the man and knocked against the wall before falling to the floor. She watched as it rolled across the floor and disappeared underneath her nearby dresser, a bittersweet feeling washing over her. On one hand, he wasn’t real and couldn’t hurt her. On the other, she was truly alone and definitely going crazy.

“This is fine,” Zara tried to reassure herself with very little luck.

She was pulled back from her thoughts as Bucky called her name for the third time, snapping her back to reality. Their eyes connected for a moment as she attempted to ground herself again, focusing on the small changes between how he was now versus then.

He had since lost the mask and goggles, she remembered him removing them a month or so after he first appeared. His current casual attire contrasted starkly with the hard kevlar of the tactical vest she first met him in. His features were more at ease now, no longer reflecting the fear that she could only compare to an animal in captivity. While she wasn’t fond of the comparison, following what she had learned of the real James Barnes, it wasn’t entirely far off.

As if the world was reading her mind, she faintly heard the voice of the local news anchor from the living room directly below her bedroom. Her features scrunched as she focused in on hearing the report, only catching snippets here and there. The words explosion and Sokovia Accords were most of what she could make out along with what she could’ve sworn was the suspect’s name, James Buchanan Barnes.

Before Zara could even question it further, she found herself racing down the main staircase of their suburban home, sock clad feet skidding to a halt on the polished dark oak flooring. Her eyes widened as she took in the security camera footage that was believed to place Bucky near the scene of the crime. Despite having no real proof, something deep within her gut screamed that it wasn’t true. She knew him, maybe not the real version, but he’d never do that.

Imaginary Bucky followed her into the living room a minute later, his pace slow and relaxed in comparison as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Being held responsible for the most recent atrocity was honestly just beginning to feel like the average Tuesday to him. More than anything, it was Zara’s reaction that took him the most by surprise. Her unwavering faith and loyalty was unexpected and as he believed, undeserved.

He had committed unspeakable acts over the years and this was likely far from the worst he was accused of. Sure, they had grown close in the two years since he first appeared and he imagined that made it easier for her to block out the rest of the stories, since she knew at least some version of the person in question.

Zara was good, in every sense of the word. Of course she had flaws, but who didn’t, especially at sixteen. But he saw the way that she looked at the world with love and curiosity despite the violence and violations she had experienced. It was a strength of character that he truly wished he could grow to embody. Bucky couldn’t help but find it funny that he was left looking up to a teenager who hadn’t even passed her driver’s test yet; but she honestly had more morals and heart than most of the adults he had met in his life. All of those facts being true is what made her belief in his innocence all the more confusing.

His eyes fell to her father, Gabriel, as he sat on the couch to take in the evening news. The man’s head shook in what seemed to be disappointment, or maybe it was anger, Bucky honestly couldn’t be sure anymore. They had never spoken, as Bucky’s intangible form made communication with anyone other than Zara impossible, but he knew Gabriel was a black and white kind of person. He couldn’t help but accept that to anyone who didn’t know him, the evidence would be damning.

“They need to just put him down while they have the chance,” Gabriel scoffed, speaking to no one in particular while switching the flatscreen off before they could finish the broadcast.

“He’s not a wild animal to be euthanized.” Zara’s expression twisted in disgust at her father’s casual nature. “He’s a human being. If he's guilty, and that’s a really big if with how blurry that security footage is, he deserves a trial just like anyone else!”

Gabe turned to look over the back of the couch, clearly displeased that she would defend the man. “I’m in no mood to debate with you, Ziarah.” He rose from his seat and dropped the remote onto the foot stool before leaving towards his study.

Zara watched him leave, her eye practically twitching with each step he took. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, to make him see that there were likely more sides to the story than they were seeing but she knew that it was useless. Her father rarely took her opinions or beliefs to heart on things that actually mattered to him, a topic like this would truly be a lost cause.

She looked up at Bucky as he shook his head lightly, letting her tension fade away as she accepted that it was pointless. “It’s okay, Zar,” Bucky assured, his small smile wiping away any lingering doubts she had. “There are more important battles to pick with him. This isn’t a hill worth dying on.”

Zara would’ve liked to argue that defending her friend was more than a worthy cause but she nodded nonetheless.

“How about we go find your mom. I bet she’s already working on the cake for your graduation and knowing you, you can convince her to let you lick the spoon.” His tone was playful as he coaxed her into motion, the promise of sweets and a friendly face luring her into the kitchen behind him.

Hanna was busy mixing away the different batters she would need for the next tier, the sweet aroma of baked goods filling the air. She hummed lightly as she worked, creating her own personal mix of her favorite 80’s songs together in a unique medley. Her green eyes moved to the doorway as she heard Zara walk in, a bright smile overtook her features as she set down her mixing bowl.

“There’s my little scholar,” she praised, moving around the kitchen island to take her daughter into her arms. Her warm embrace was a welcomed escape as Zara melted.

“Momma,” Zara grumbled as her mother placed a series of kisses on her forehead. “I thought you stopped doing that since I was a baby.” While Zara whined, deep down she always loved her mother’s open displays of affection. Not that she was willing to admit it.

“That’s the beauty of you always being my baby. You’re never too old for me to embarrass you. Just be grateful that I’ve opted to do it now instead of at your party.” The woman grinned away as she moved back to her work.

Zara honestly couldn’t argue with the logic as she found a seat on one of the tall bar stools. She quickly lost herself in the pleasant conversion with her mother, happily opting to clean the excess batter and frosting off of the bowls and mixing spoons like the helpful child she was. Imaginary Bucky sat quietly at the kitchen table, watching the women as they fell into the usual banter and discussion. After they finished her conversation she quickly grabbed a snack and made her way towards the door.

“I believe you’re forgetting something,” Hanna reminded, sending Zara a knowing look.

She huffed lightly before turning on her heels to grab her blood testing and insulin kit, waving it at her mother knowingly. She quickly turned back around and left the kitchen, making her way back upstairs.

Bucky didn’t hesitate to follow after her, stopping only when he saw Zara staring in her old room, which now housed her older brother Daniel. He could practically see the wheels turning in her mind as she ran over the events that more often than not had her scurrying past said room without acknowledging it. It was easier to just pretend it didn’t exist.

A few more moments passed before Zara pulled herself back from the darker parts of her mind, focusing in on everything else in her life that was good and worth celebrating. She had known pain and a time in her life where she often considered if it would’ve been easier to just fade away, but she had made it through to the other side. She had a lot going for her now and that was enough to push her feet forward again.

Chapter 2

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littleoddwriter · 3 years

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Help | Dan Torrance x Gender Neutral!Reader

This is another vent fic. This time about a BPD episode. I was on the verge of having one so much these past weeks and especially today and yesterday, so that I decided to write a vent piece and share it, once again. I’m aware that only a few people will be able to relate to this, if at all, but hey. Self-indulgence. I really wish I had a Dan Torrance or Roman Sionis IRL for myself, lol.

summary; You experience a BPD episode, Dan comes to the rescue and helps you through the rest of it.

notes; TW // self-harm (scratching, hair pulling and punching oneself), dissociation, BPD episode, intrusive thoughts (mentioned), flashbacks (mentioned), recovering alcoholic almost having a relapse (mentioned), that should be all. Also: Gender Neutral!Reader (no gendered terms are used for reader, so this can be enjoyed by anyone!); Emotional Hurt/Comfort;

You were sitting on the couch, watching one of your comfort movies. Dan was out, attending his regular AA meetings. You wished he was here, though deep down you were glad he wasn't.

Why you were watching this comfort movie was because you thought it would help making you feel better, distract you, make you less difficult to be around, when Dan came back.

It had worked for maybe half an hour, then you became restless; the intrusive thoughts came back full force. The flashbacks, too. It was all too much. You wanted to scream.

'Shutupshutupshutup!' You chanted in your head.

You wanted it all gone.

You wanted to stop hurting.

You wanted it to fucking stop!

The feelings were too much, you felt suffocated by them, unable to breathe properly. It made you panic. Your breathing quickened, you bounced your leg so fast that your entire body was shaking with it. You were rocking back and forth, trying to feel it all a little less and have it leave your body.

Whatever was happening on screen, you didn't catch any of it. You saw it, but you couldn't hear it. You didn't process it at all.

More flashbacks.

More emotional pain.

More intrusive thoughts of how to relieve yourself of this anguish.

Somewhere, besides all of this, you felt floaty. Unreal. Everything around you felt so unreal. Were you even real?

A whine tore its way from your throat.

You started scratching your forearm.

You didn't even notice it until suddenly your skin had broken, was scratched open and burning.

Immediately, you stopped.

Though, you wanted to continue until it was all gone.

You tried to resist.

That wasn't what you really wanted. It was an intrusive thought, not you.

You didn't know how much time had passed. It must have been a while, though, as you vaguely noticed that the movie had almost reached its end.

Taking deep breaths, you tried to calm yourself.

Dan would be back soon. You didn't want him to see you like this. You didn't want to be a burden to him.

The pain, the guilt, the flashbacks, everything; it came back to you with an almost violent force and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to will it all down. Push it away. Repress it.

It usually worked. Why wouldn't it work, now?

You punched your thigh.

The pain made everything stop for a moment.

You did it again.

Again.

And again.

Until you couldn't move for several minutes because of the pain that your brain was trying so hard to process.

A few moments passed.

It all came back, all over again. Even stronger, perhaps.

You wanted to scream.

You gripped your hair, pulling at it repeatedly until your scalp burned.

You rubbed over your face.

Rubbing turned into scratching.

Suddenly, there were arms around you, a body pressing against you, a warmth enveloping you.

Dan.

You startled to a stop.

"Sssh, it's okay. It's okay," you could faintly hear Dan shushing you.

You lowered your hands from your face and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his shoulder.

A cry forced its way out of you as you started weeping, soaking his jacket in your salty tears that burned your eyes, oh so painfully.

He was rubbing your back soothingly, continuing to shush you quietly, rocking you back and forth gently.

Distantly, you noticed that he was bent over to accommodate your sitting position and that it must be hell on his back.

So, you tried to shift.

Neither of you let go of the other, as you both came to sit on the couch, either torso twisted to keep the other wrapped up.

Dan's head was resting against the side of your head, whispering to you and nuzzling your hair.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," you repeated, whimpering, over and over again in between sobs. "I didn't mean to. Didn't mean to!"

"Sssh, darling, it's alright, it's okay," Dan replied soothingly.

After a few long moments, your sobs turned into silent tears. You were trembling. Your breaths were erratic.

Reluctantly, you let go of Dan. He also released you, leaning back a little, but keeping one hand on your back and continuing to rub soothing circles into it with just the right amount of pressure to be felt but not be too much.

You could feel him looking at you, even though your head was lowered and you were looking at your lap. Biting the inside of your cheek and your bottom lip repeatedly, you tried to push down the tears that still threatened to spill.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Dan asked gently after a couple of minutes.

You shook your head, not looking up.

You were wringing your hands, twisting your fingers, cracking your knuckles, trying to get rid of the guilt, the shame, the dread.

"Okay. Can I do anything for you?" He asked after a few more moments.

You thought about it. But you came up empty-handed.

"I don't know, sorry," you whispered brokenly.

Dan nodded and wrapped the arm, of which his hand was on your back, around you, squeezing your arm lightly.

You leaned into his side, resting your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes.

After a couple of minutes, you lifted a trembling hand and grasped onto his shirt, balling a fist, holding on tight.

"I didn't mean for you to come home to me like this. I'm sorry," you rasped eventually.

"Y/N, it's okay. I promise. I wish I had been here earlier, though," he replied, kissing your hair.

You nuzzled his neck, kissing the little patch of skin you could reach.

"Thank you, Dan," you whispered.

He squeezed you in answer.

You were so exhausted then. Drained. It was already late anyway. Usually you wouldn't even have stayed up so late, but you had established a habit of waiting for Dan, whenever he went to his AA meetings.

You never knew when he would come home feeling raw and on the verge of a breakdown.

You never wanted to wake up again, in the middle of the night, to him screaming and smashing a bottle of liquor he had managed to resist just so.

He rested his chin on your head, when you cuddled into him a little bit more.

"Let's go to sleep then, hm? Do you think you can do that?" Dan asked.

You just nodded, peeling yourself from his side, immediately missing his warmth and soothing touch.

The two of you got up and got yourselves ready for bed in a comfortable silence.

You still felt raw and vulnerable, but at least you didn't feel like you were being suffocated anymore.

Dan tended to the wounds on your forearms, when you were both done with everything else. Fortunately, those wounds were the only open ones. Your face was streaked with red lines, but nothing was bloodied or open. Your thighs might bruise, though. Your scalp still burned a little, too.

Eventually, the two of you crawled under the covers of your bed, cuddling into each other. Your head laid on Dan's chest, rising and falling with his breaths; hearing his heart beat. It calmed you.

You're okay, y/n. I've got you. You can go to sleep. You're alright, I promise.

You could hear his voice in your head. He rarely did that. He didn't like using his shine on you; it felt like a violation to your privacy, he had told you.

A small smile stretched your lips.

You closed your eyes, sighing, and made yourself comfortable, nuzzling into his chest and kissing it through his soft cotton shirt.

After a couple of minutes - and most likely with the help of his shine - you fell asleep eventually, finally at peace and leaving this horrendous night behind yourself for the time being.

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withlovekth · 4 years

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Darkroom (Part Six)

Part One / Two / Three / Four / Five

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader Genre: artist! taehyung, best friend! jimin, college au, fluff, smut, angst Contains: swearing, suicide mention Word Count: 3.2k

Author’s Note: Okay, honestly this was supposed to be a stand alone one shot that I wrote three years after I had stopped writing Darkroom but my housemate inspired me to rewrite it to fit because she didn’t want me to abandon it, so here we are.

You couldn’t help but constantly come back to a city that reminded you of him, all because of a conversation you had years ago in his nearly empty room. Given opportunities, a steady job, free housing— Who would pass up a chance like that? You thought, maybe, he would.

Is that what you’re still up to these days?

You shoved your hands into your coat pockets. A stream of air visibly left your lips as you aimlessly walked by random store fronts. Your reflection reminded you of a time where you stupidly started smoking because you hoped it’d help you stop thinking about him. But thinking about him also made you stop smoking. Maybe he would have told you to quit anyway.

Was that the kind of person you were? It’s getting harder to remember.

Every time you’re here, you’d make an excuse to explore as if you haven’t seen all the touristy spots the first time around. A part of you hoped you’d run into him, but the thought of your paths crossing filled you up with anxiety. You’d fantasize what you’d say to him. If, that is, you’d say anything at all. Most of the time all the daydreaming would leave you a complete mess, whether it was a bubbling one or a sobbing one, it was still a mess. But that was nothing new.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket. You braced yourself for another round of freezing your fingers off as you raised the device to your ear.

“Y/N, where are you?” Your best friend’s voice brought a part of you back into reality. “You were supposed to be here like ten minutes ago.”

“Jimin,” your voice trailed off. You tried to process where you were. “I’m... Lost?” That was your quickest answer.

“What do you mean you’re lost?” There was a hint of panic in his voice. “Geez, I need to stop letting you take public transit by yourself—”

“Sorry, sorry.” You cut him off. If he knew you still felt this way, he wouldn’t let you go around searching for trouble all by yourself. “I see the glass and garden museum—”

“Oh! Okay, go inside and wait in the gift shop. I bet you forgot your gloves today too.”

“... You’re not wrong.” He knew you too well. He always has.

He let out a slight chuckle. “I’ll be there soon.” He hung up.

You found refuge in the shop, weaving between customers and body heat. This city was so, so cold, and yet it never got cold enough to snow, just rain.

You stopped in front of a wall of postcards, thinking about all the times you’ve wanted to send one to him. You never knew his new address, so why did you have a stack of unset mail tucked away in a drawer back home? His name written all of them. Signed: With love.

The postcard’s design was a picture of one of the glass sculptures that hung from a window paneled ceiling. The mixture of orange and yellow glass popped out among the night sky in the background. You wanted to write to him then and there, asking for his opinions, if he’d like to see it with you one day. You knew he’d like it, or at least you hope he’d like it.

You reached for it, with your now warm hands and the goal of buying it to just hide it with the rest of the unsent letters. You instantly retracted your hand the moment it brushed against another’s.

“Sorry,” your voices came out in unison.

“No, I’m—” Your throat closed up for a second as your eyes met.

“Y/N?” His voice echoed in your ears. That voice that you thought you had forgotten, but remembered as if it were yesterday. The voice you remembered saying its goodbyes and you not realizing that was meant to be forever. “It’s been forever.” He smiled softly. “How have you been?”

“It’s been forever,” you repeated after him.

Forever. It wasn’t your choice to never see him again. It was his choice to never see you again. A choice that kept you up all night wondering if it was something you did or said for it to turn out this way. A choice that’d hit you out of nowhere with a whirlwind of emotions as you tried to enjoy an outing with your friends or while you were in the middle of a test you didn’t study for. And you thought it’d be this way. Forever. But forever decided it lasted long enough. And now forever was over. Now a new set of emotions overcome you. A confusing mixture of upset and gladness and maybe relief. You hoped the relief would last forever.

Somehow you managed to say, “I’m fine. Great, actually.” You swallowed. You felt the corners of your mouth twitching from how hard you’re actually smiling. And you wondered what this response was, but at the same time it was almost expected. You wanted to be upset, angry. And yet you’re here, smiling like an idiot, as if he didn’t move and disappear without a word for years. “How are you, Taehyung?”

Saying his name to his face felt so unreal. But this was really happening. You can hear your heart beating in your ears, your face getting hotter by the second, sweat building up under your clothes.

“I’m good. Life’s been treating me well.”

“That’s good.”

You felt his eyes on you, watching, analyzing. Does he know? Can he tell that you’re about to lose whatever is left of your sanity at any moment? It’s hard to tell what he was thinking. Was it always that way?

“Have you been inside the museum yet? It looks even better in real life.” He looked back up at the postcard. You could tell he was trying to make small talk. “So, who were you going to send this to?”

You. But of course you couldn’t tell him that.

“This is kind of… Embarrassing…” Your voice trailed off before you got the chance to spill your guts.

“Oh— You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to.” He looked at the ground, smiling slightly to himself. “I guess this is kind of embarrassing too. I was actually going to get it for myself. I just collect them. I’m not sure when that started. And I don’t really have much of a reason to. I guess I just think they look cool.” He grabbed one off the wall.

Without thinking you took it from his hand. “I’ll buy it for you,” you blurted out.

“No, no, it’s okay!” He tried to take it, but you hid it behind your back.

“I insist.”

He towered over you, his face inching closer to yours as he attempted to reach around for the postcard. “Y/N,” he grinned. “It’s fine.”

You found yourself stuck, unable to look away from his face. Remembering the cute little mole under his eye, then the tip of his nose, and the one under his lips.

A child running by bumped into you and you fell forward. It wasn’t romantic like in those romcoms, you head-butted his lip and he retracted backwards, covering his mouth.

Your eyes widened. “Taehyung I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay. It was an accident,” he checked his fingers for blood. “I’m okay! I’m okay.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. Okay now I definitely have to buy this for you, hold on.” You made a dash for the counter a couple steps away, nearly clipping another small child as they chased after the one who probably bumped you. You can hear Taehyung laugh as he trailed behind you.

You quickly made the transaction and handed over the card to him. “Here. I’m sorry, again.”

“What? You’re not going to write something for me?” He playful tilted his head.

You mumbled under your breath, “You’re killing me, Kim Taehyung.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing— Here, just— Ah. Did you want me to? I don’t have a pen…”

He held onto the postcard without taking it. “How about you think of something to write and then give it to me by the end of the day.” He nudged the card towards your body. “We’ll find you a pen later.”

“We? Later?” You didn’t want to look stupid in front of him, but you couldn’t help it. You quickly clenched your jaw after you realized you were staring at him with your mouth open.

“Yeah, later. Unless you have something else to do today?”

“Oh fuck, Ji—”

“Taehyung, who’s your friend?” An unknown woman walked up next to him, locking her arms around his. She glared at you so hard you could have sworn lasers would start shooting out of her eyes. She was beautiful. Of course she would be, it’s Taehyung.

He looked at you, but it felt more like he was looking past, maybe even through you. “She’s an old friend.”

You let out an awkward, almost forced laugh. “Yeah. An old friend. Right.” Right. That was all. Maybe a little more. Or could have been more. There was definitely more. But to him maybe you really were just a friend. Just a photo in an album at the bottom of an old moving box.

“Okay, well, we should be going now.” She began to drag him out.

You just watched him walk away. At least this time you already expected him to walk out of your life. It’s fine. This is fine. It’ll be fine.

He glanced back at you and stopped in his tracks. He gently detached himself from her and walked back over to you. He looked like he was trying hard to find something to say. Looking around as if the words would appear out of the air. He locked eyes with you once again, biting his lip. He really was thinking, but all he could come up with was a hushed, “Run.”

He had a wild look in his eyes as he grabbed your hand and bolted out of the museum, passing the girl he was with earlier. All you could make out was a string of some unkind names as the two of you darted out of earshot. He laughed the whole time. You ran for God knows how long before collapsing on a park bench. The cold air burned with each deep inhale. It hurt, but all you could do was smile.

As you tried to catch your breath you had to ask, “Who was that?”

“Just some girl I’ve been seeing. We met a few weeks ago at a coworker’s party.”

You’ve become more aware of how long you’ve been holding hands and you finally let go.

“It’s not serious though.”

You shove your hands back into your pockets, sitting up straight. “Why did you just ditch her? You’re on a date, right?”

He shrugged. “I’m not that into her. Besides, you’re way more interesting to hang out with.”

“How do you know that? It’s been three years.” You lowered your head to cover your face behind your hair. Your eyes stung, but now was not the time to be crying.

He hummed. “For starters, you nearly split my lip open, insisted on buying me a random postcard, and didn’t stop me from running away from her.”

You didn’t want to cave in so easily, but he knew how to make you smile. You can claim you hate it, but you secretly loved it. The part you hated the most was that he knew you loved it too. He still knew you so well.

“Y/N!” A voice called out from the distance.

You turned your head to the sound. “Jimin!” You shot up out of your seat. “Oh God, I forgot about him,” you mumbled under your breath.

He lightly jogged over. “Why did I just know it was you running out of the museum. I knew I should have just made you stay over at my place while you’re in town. What the hell were you doing? I told you to wait there and—” He finally looked over your shoulder. He grabbed you so fast you didn’t have time to react, shoving you behind him so that he kept you away from Taehyung. “What did you do to her?” His voice came out low.

“Nice to see you too, Jimin.” Taehyung got up with his hands outstretched for a hug.

Jimin stepped back, losing his balance for a moment as he stepped on your foot. “Ah— Sorry.”

“Jimin.” You gently put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” You tried to give him a reassuring smile. But was this really fine?

He sighed, loosening up. He cleared his throat. “Good to see you too, Taehyung.” He opted for a handshake instead. “Anyway, Y/N and I have somewhere to be. So if you don’t mind, we’ll be leaving.”

You grabbed your best friend’s wrist before he got the chance to walk away. “Wait.”

“What?”

You didn’t know what to say. You just wanted to cherish your time with Taehyung. Even if it was only for a second longer. You didn’t want him to disappear, although it was probably inevitable.

“Hey, I don’t mean to intrude. Sorry.” Taehyung apologized with a tone that was enough to nearly shatter your heart. “I’ll let you be on your way.”

“No. Wait. Please.” You raised your voice as you whipped yourself around to face him. Your head began to spin, your breathing was shallow. You weren’t ready to let him go. It’s too soon.

Please don’t go. Please don’t go. Please don’t go.

“Please don’t go.” You covered your mouth so quickly you practically slapped yourself.

“Y/N,” Jimin whispered, holding on to your shoulder as if it was like he was trying to stop you from shaking.

You held your breath, waiting, wondering what Taehyung will or won’t do.

Taehyung reached for your hands, uncovering them from your mouth. The look on his face. What was that look? You couldn’t understand how an expression could suddenly make you feel so full of love.

“I won’t. I’m here.”

“For how long?” You studied his face, searching for any indication he was lying while at the same time, trying to remember every part of it— the mole placements, the curve of his lips, the way his eyelashes moved as he blinked. Everything. Because you wanted to be ready for when the time comes he’ll leave you once again.

He looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“How long?” You repeated yourself. “How long will this last before you leave me again?” You stepped back, releasing yourself from his hold. “Are you just going to disappear again? Are you just going to leave me alone because I mean nothing more to you than just a friend? Well, friends don’t just up and disappear like that. Without a word. What kind of friend does that? I thought, maybe, I wasn’t just a friend to you. I thought I meant more to you. Like you do for me.”

You began to laugh in the middle of the silence. “Oh, God. I just sound so stupid and pathetic, don’t I?” Your lips quivered as you failed to attempt to keep your tears in. “That was so, so stupid—”

“Jimin,” Taehyung's voice sounded a bit annoyed. “You didn’t tell her?”

“I never got the chance to,” Jimin was frantic. “Now is not the time.”

“What were you going to tell me?” You rubbed your eyes, trying to see Jimin past the blurriness.

“Are you serious? You didn’t fucking tell her?” Taehyung bit his lower lip, trying to keep his cool, but it was obvious he was fuming.

“Tell me fucking what?”

“He told me to leave you alone—”

“Taehyung, shut up.”

“No! No! She needs to know.”

You grabbed Jimin by his coat, shaking him. “Why did you tell him to leave me alone?”

His face looked pale. “Y/N,” he sighed, brushing the little hairs away from your face.

You stiffened up.

“I couldn’t stand to see him with you,” he whispered, almost sounding ashamed.

“Why?” You couldn’t bear the silence, but you already have realized why.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” He caressed your tear stained cheek.

You stepped away from him in disbelief. “This isn’t really happening, is it? Jimin, I… I don’t even know what to say to you.”

“Tell me anything.” He accepted his fate.

You glanced at Taehyung. He pursed his lips, raising an eyebrow, his way to encourage you.

“I…” Your eyes settle back on Jimin. Somehow he looked so small, like he wanted to disappear. “I want to be angry with you. I guess I am angry with you. Could you not see how much I was hurting?”

“I did.”

“And you let me fucking feel this way for years?”

“I thought I could win you over. But when weeks turned into months then into a year, and then two, and three... I realized I wouldn’t ever win. It would always be Taehyung. It was too late for me.”

“And you?” You asked Taehyung.

“Jimin was my best friend too. And I didn’t want to get in his way.”

You laughed harder. You couldn’t believe this is where your life has led up to. For the longest time you thought you had done something wrong. That you were the selfish one. Selfish to think you could have someone like Taehyung.

You thought it was karma. You were the bad person. You made yourself out to always be the bad person and you couldn’t even remember what you did, but all you knew is that you deserved it. All those endless nights drinking your sorrows to failed suicide attempts. It was karma for mistreating yourself for all those years, even before Taehyung came into your life. Jimin finding you in the second year of high school, out cold with a bottle of sleeping pills in your hand, waking up to getting your stomach pumped. You did this to yourself because you believed everyone would be better off without you. God was punishing you, but at that point, you had forgotten over what, and it’s laughable.

But maybe you weren’t being selfish. What was wrong about feeling the way you felt? Liking someone? Loving someone? It was okay to love who you loved. You don’t need to be sorry about that. There’s nothing to be sorry about.

“I’m sorry, Jimin.” You said you weren’t going to be sorry, but you couldn’t help but think about all the times Jimin was there for you. This was your karma for everything you put him though, and you accepted his envy, his selfishness.

“You don’t have to be. I should be sorry. I just couldn’t make you happy.”

“Jimin—”

A sudden clash of thunder interrupted you, followed by heavy rain. There hadn’t been any signs it would rain, let alone a thunderstorm. But that was just expected of this city, unpredictable, just like everything else in your life.

Jimin took a step back, this interruption was just what he needed. “I’ll talk to you later. I promise.” He ran off into the direction he came from, disappearing behind the endless rain drops.

You looked up into the sky, feeling the water soak your hair. You closed your eyes and took a deep inhale. You wanted to scream. Then you couldn’t feel the rain on your face. You opened your eyes to find Taehyung shielding the both of you with his coat. He gave you a half smile.

“Let’s get you out of this rain?”

“Can I stay with you? I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Of course.”

#bangtanwriters-net #pocarmysunited #bangtanbuds #boy group writers net #taehyung x reader #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung smut #bts scenarios

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heyauntieeee · 5 years

Note

I don’t have anything specific but college Erik is my favorite Erik 🥰🥰🥰

Title: Study Buddy (Lame ass title I but I couldn’t come up withanything else lmao)

College!Erik X Black!Reader

Summary: Erik helps you study for your TEAS exam

Warnings: Language, Slight smut (my first time bear with me)

This would be my first time writing college!erik but I hope you enjoy it. This subject is currently relating to me because I’ve been studying for the entrance exam for nursing, so here it goes!

The both of you were currently onspring break, however, while your roommates went home, you decided to stay atcampus to study for the TEAS exam and your boyfriend Erik is staying with yousince he doesn’t have any family outside of you. Since this test was one of theonly things, besides your grades, that was standing between you and the nursingprogram, you made it very clear that there couldn’t be much fooling around asyou were taking the test in two weeks time.

The two of you were sitting on yourcouch in your campus apartment. Your books and notes litters on the coffeetable. There was a highlighter between your teeth and a pen between your indexand middle fingers. You were deeply engrossed in your notes focusing on thescience section in particular seeing as it was the most important section ofthe exam.

You could feel Erik staring a holein the back of your neck, so you sit up and squint your eyes at him.

“I thought you were gonna help mestudy.”

“You tryna be in them books, I’m tryna be in them guts. It’s beena minute since I seen you baby girl, I miss you.” Erik proceeds to startkissing your neck and while you missed him too, God knows you did, you couldn’t be distracted at themoment. You shrug him off of you and mush his face trying to push him to theother side of the couch not caring about the fact that he was so fucking bulkyhe didn’t budge, he snorts at your effort.

“Daka you know this test isimportant,” You whine. “I can’t be fucking around I need at least an 85% onthis thing.”

He sighs, knowing you were rightand not willing to come between you and your education. He had faith that youwould pass considering you excelled in your prerequisite courses. You were everthe over achiever, willing to succeed by any means necessary. He could recallnot being able see or talk to you for days, when you were in high school andthroughout your time in college because you had to study for exams or completeprojects and papers. Hell, if it weren’t Spring Break this would undoubtedly beone of those times. Trust and believe he was the same way, but for the week hejust wanted to lay up under his girl.

“Aight, how about this, every timeyou get an answer right, I’ll kiss you wherever you want.” The proposition, ascorny and cliché as it was, piqued your interest. As fly as Erik was, he’s had his fair share of being a cornballsometimes.

“Is this to help me or to helpyou?” You ask.

“I’m helping the both of us getwhat we need, princess.” Surely you weren’t gonna pass up on his offer. Youthink why the hell not.

“Ard, quiz me.”

Excited, he grabs one of the studybooks and tells you that they’ll do science questions sincethat’s what you’ve been focusing on for that particular day, then flips the pages to the back of thebook where the practice questions were. He looks over the question beforeraising his head to meet my eyes. His gaze makes you squirm.

“First question: What crystallinesolid contains ionic bonds with the least covalent character?”

You scrunch yourface up. “So, you just gon come out the gate with the hard questions? Youknow I hate chemistry.”

“Ion give a fuck, you answering thequestion. Tic toc lil nigga.” You kiss your teeth and think hard. Chemistry wasnever your strong suit. In all honesty you still don’t know how you managed topull a ‘B’. Must’ve been by the grace of God. Finally, you just give upand guess.

“I don’t know, Sodium?”

There was a pause for about fiveseconds before he lets out this obnoxious buzzing noise scaring the living shitout of you.

“DAMN NIGGA! Did you have to be sofucking loud?!”

“Did you have to be so wrong?”

“Don’t make me smack you Erik.”

“You ain’t slapping shit over here,I dare you.” You roll your eyes.

“Anyway, what’s the answer,” you ask impatiently.

“Lithiumfluoride. We coming back to that question.”

“Or we canskip chem all together,” you mutter.

“NOT ON MYWATCH!” He yells as he slams his hand down on the book startling you onceagain.

“Aight,Iyanla Vanzant wannabe next question!”

He flipsthrough some pages again saying more slick shit under his breath. Some thingsto the effect of ‘not letting his babyfuck up her grade cause she don’t know the difference between coefficients andcovalent bonds. She gon learn today.’ When you think about it, it’s reallysweet, but he can be so damn aggravating. He finally finds another question andreads.

“What eventoccurs simultaneously with the end of systole?” This one you definitely knew.

“The rightventricular pressure reaches a minimum value.” Erik grins.

“That’s whatI’m talkin bout baby! Where you want it?”

You thinkabout where you want to be kissed and remember he didn’t kiss you when he camethrough the door earlier, he only greeted you with a weak ass half hug becausehe was on the phone when he walked in, which he knows you hate but themotherfucker still does it anyway.

You thenpoint to your lips with a pout. “I never got my kiss when you came in, justsome lame ass hug.”

“My bad mama,I was handling business.”

“I know.” Andyou knew exactly what that business was.

Erik goingaway on his secret missions, coming home bruise, bloodied, and new additions ofscars to his body. Of course, you didn’t like seeing him that way and everytime you fussed over him and cleaned him up, he’d remind you that this was allpart of the plan that he was destined for something, greater and that our timewould come.

You’rebrought out of your thoughts by the feeling of Erik’s soft full lips on yours. Youinstantly start kissing him back, your hands grip his forearms, longing tobring him closer. He leans more toward you, his large frame towering over youas he deepens the kiss. You lean back further into the couch and allow him torest between your legs. He brings one of his hands to your next and it reststhere for a second, then you feel the slight pressure of Erik squeezing yourneck with just enough pressure that causes you to gasp, letting his tongueenter your mouth. The taste of him is unreal, even after all these years ofbeing with him, kissing him like this, he still tastes better than the firsttime you kissed him. You let his tongue dominate yours and roam around in yourmouth. You let a small moan leave your mouth and get an ‘mhm’ in reply. Thebass in his voice sends a shock down your spine and straight to your core. Youmoan again as you feel the wetness between your thighs.

The sound ofthe book falling to the floor caused you to break apart. Erik gives you one morepeck and pulls away, picking up the book and flipping back to the questions asif nothing happened. Meanwhile you’re a panting mess lying on the couch.

“Come on lilbit, we gotta finish.”

Not wantingto move, you pout. “But-” He quickly interrupts.

“Ion wannahear that whining shit, you said you wanted to study so that’s what we doing.Sit ya thick ass up and get to work.”

“Ok” you sayin a hushed tone as you reluctantly sat up.

“Aight nextquestion…”

After a answeringa series of questions, getting only a few wrong and being subjected to Erik’sloud ass buzzing noise and the ones you got right, well… let’s just stay you’reglad you won’t really have to step out of the house for the week. You bothagreed to avoid kissing the lips to avoid further distraction. So, you had himkiss you in simpler places, your forehead, cheeks, the back of your hands. Butwhen he got to your neck and torso, you would’ve thought Erik was a wild animalthe way he marked you up. Dark hickies littered your neck and torso. What wassupposed to be a light peck and nibble, turn into a ravishing of your body. Hewas now examining his work with pride.

“And when wego out, you ain’t covering them shits either.” You scoff and roll your eyes asyou examine yourself in the mirror with horror.

“N’Jadaka Ican’t leave the house looking like this!”

“You thinkthat I give a fuck? Cause I don’t. You mine and everybody gonna know it. Andwhen they fade Imma put more on you.”

“Everybody oncampus already knows that I’m yourstrust me. You ain’t marking up my body no more nigga.”

“We’ll seebout that shit.” You make your way toward the couch with a yawn, ready to bedone with this study session. Your brain was officially fried, and you justwanted to go to bed.

“Aightprincess last question. You get this one right and I’ll pick where I get tokiss you ok?”

“Ok,” You sayready and nervous for the next question.

“What hormonehas rapid effects that are similar to effects associated with the activation ofthe sympathetic nervous system?”

You almostdrew a blank. You had studied the endocrine system from top to bottom and itwas just on the tip of your tongue.

“Thyroidhormone?”

There was along pause and you almost disappointed that you got it wrong until…

“YEAH BABY!HELLYEAH! WHO GETTING IN THAT NURSING PROGRAM? YOU GOT THAT SHIT IN THE BAG”his shouting startled you but excited you all the same. Erik picks you up andspins you around showering your face with kisses making you giggle. He settlesyou down to your feet and looks you deep in your eyes. His dark eyes staringinto the very depth of your soul.

“You got thisshit Y/N. No matter how much you doubt or worry or stress you one of thesmartest people I know. You getting ya ass in that program and you gon killthat shit. And know, no matter what happens, I got you, for life. You hear me?”

You stare upat him with tear in your eyes. You never thought it could be possible to lovein even more than you did in this moment. Struggling to find the words to say,you say the only words you can form. “I love you baby.”

“I love you more.Now lemme give you your reward. Lay down on the couch.”

You excitedlylay back look at Erik in all his glory. All you can think is how could you havegotten so lucky. You watch as he removes his hoodie with the shirt underneathto reveal his muscular form and scar riddled chest. You lick your lips inanticipation.

“You gon letDaddy reward you?” his voice was low and husky; his eyes were filled with lust.You bite your lower lip and nod your head.

“I need wordsbaby.”

“Yes please.”

He settles himselfbetween my legs like before. He places his lips on your and you start to kissback. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, and you moan into his mouth. Erikreleases your lips and trails more kisses down your neck, and you moan somemore. Everything about him drove you insane. You sit up and remove your shirtand bra. Erik immediately start put the left breast in his mouth, twirling histongue around the nipple letting the bud harden. You arch your back as he gentlybites the nipple.

“Ah!” yougasp.

“You alrightbabygirl.” Erik asks blowing air on the wet mound, making your nipple hardeneven more.

“Yes.”

He gives you anotherkiss, repeats the actions on the other breast. He works his way down, nippingand licking your torso until he gets to the top of your shorts. You sit up on yourforearms and watch with anticipation. Erik looks up and peers at you intently.

“You ready?”

“I’m ready” yousay breathlessly.

He begins toslide your shorts off at an agonizingly slow pace and to his delight, you weren’twearing any underwear. He throws your shorts to the floor.

“Look at thatshit,” he hissed, dragging a finger along your glistening slit and you moan at thetouch. “You so fuckin wet, who all this for?”

It’s for yo-fuuuckkkk” You were cut off as her slid a finger inside your core. He leans forward,brining his lips to your ear.

“I didn’thear you, who you said it was for.” His voice was even deeper, and it was drivingyou crazy as he start to pump his finger inside you, brushing your spot withevery movement. You moan louder

“It’s for youDaddy!” That gains a growl from him.

“That’sfuckin right!” He inserts another finger and pumps faster, massaging your clitwith his thumb. You were panting at this point, gripping the back of the couchholding on for dear life.

“It feels sogood.” You cried.

“You bout tofeel even better.” He sits up, removes his fingers, brings them to his mouth andstarts to suck every drop of your juices, never taking his eyes off you. Youshudder. He pulls his fingers out with a pop and licks his lips.

“Damn yousweet.”

He lower himselfbetween your legs and began to kiss your inner thighs, nipping all the way downto your core. He smacks a loud kiss right on your clit.

“MWAH! Love thatpussy!”

“Stop playin,E.” you giggled.

“Ain’t nobodyplayin. I’m showing this pussy some love, putting respect on her name.”

“Are youfinished or are you done?” you decided to go alone with the Bird Man reference.

He growls andyanks you toward him throwing your legs over his shoulders and began devouringyour pussy.

“Shit!”

He sucked onyour clit hard, swirling his tongue around it repeatedly. Erik dragged his tongueup and down dipping it inside your core every time. He lifted his face and spaton my clit, beard wet and all.

“Goddamn,”you say. “You so fuckin sexy keep doing that shit.”

“My pleasure.”

“Nigga thisain’t Chic-fil-a, eat my pussy!”

“You gon shutthat smart shit up Y/N keep playin.”

“Keep eatinand I won’t have nothing to say.”

He muttersabout having something for your ass later then lowers his head once again. Hebrought his face to your wetness once more and sucked on the clit while movingtwo fingers inside of you at a fast past. You gripped his dreads in one hand ashe curls his fingers to hit your spot once again.

“Fuck yess!” youscream feeling so close, you were almost there.

“Cum for mebabygirl, gimme that shit.” His words were more than enough to bring you to theedge. Your back arched as you moaned loudly, you could feel your wallstightening around his fingers. Erik lapped up your release, a deep growl camefrom his throat.

“So fuckin sweet.I’d eat you all day everyday if I could.” He kisses his way up your body as youpanted in exhaustion finally reaching your lips. He kissed you deeply dippinghis tongue in your mouth. You moaned as you tasted yourself on his tongue. Hereleases you from his mouth and looks you in the eyes.

“You likeyour reward?” you smiled.

“Yes, thankyou study buddy.”

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blondecarfucker · 5 years

Text

Bed of Roses (Chapter 19)

Roger Taylor x Reader

BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader

(god i hope i didnt already use this gif in another chapter)

Fic Summary: It's 1971. You just moved to London to study, and you find a band on a local pub after a bad date. The encounter doesn’t go the way you expect it, and neither does what follows this evening as you try to deal with loving Roger Taylor.

Fic Note: So I’ve had this story in my head for the last three weeks and finally decided to write it down. It’s completely planned. It will have 21 chapters and it’s divided in three acts: Dusk, Night and Dawn. It’s will be a bit angsty in the future, and it will most likely have some smut as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! Tell me what you think about it in the asks/comments/messages. PLEASE REMEMBER THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER OF THE STORY. If this is your first time stumbling upon Bed of Roses, thank you for stopping by! The rest of the story is in my masterlist, the link is in my bio - can't put the link here or else the post will disappear from the tags.

Chapter's notes: HEY GUYS!!! LONG TIME NO SEE, at least compared to my usual posting schedule. but work has been pretty intense these days, so im really sorry for disappearing :( but IM BACK WITH A LONG ASS CHAPTER and theres only TWO MORE CHAPTERS LEFT TO BED OF ROSES. WTF. it's been about a month since i started and i cant thank you all enough for the support. now im gonna stop talking cause you already have a long chapter to read

Words: like more than 5k my bad

Warnings: SMUT!!! HELL YEAH. also theres probably a bunch of errors cause im not revising this chapter in order to post it tonight, so my bad!!!

ACT 3 - DAWN

"It's the moment night time seems weaker and everything seems easier to figure out"

Chapter 19

"I guess", you answer, without much thought, and you start laughing as you both get up and move to the seats in front of you, so you can be as close as possible, nothing between the two of you. "This is so surreal. I'm having a hard time believing you're really here", you tell him, and his eyes go wide as he answers "Tell me about it", and takes another sip of his beer.

"I come inside this bar, a bit nostalgic because I've moved into a new place, and they're playing fucking Fleetwood Mac of all fucking things", he says, and you laugh at the way he says the name's band, so sarcastic, so ironically annoyed; you didn't know you missed it so much.

"And I think, well, that's a huge fucking coincidence, so I get to the bar and here you are. In that dress, too! I'm actually thinking they dropped something in my drink and I'm talking to an empty chair as I'm having a weird acid trip", he completes, and you're laughing non-stop, his smile widening at your response.

"Maybe they really did drop something in my drink, cause it must be an acid trip, it's too good to be true. Why are you here?" you ask, and he looks confused.

"I live nearby! I still live here, you know. You're the one who moved out. My acid trip theory makes way more sense", he tells you, and his smile gets even wider at your response; you're laughing again.

"You're right", you tell him, and you take a sip of your own drink.

"See!! You're saying I'm right right away! This must be an acid trip. Now tell me, hallucination of Y/N: why are you in London?", he asks, and you give him half a smile, shy.

"I got a job offer at the British Museum. Sorry I didn't tell-", you start apologizing, but you're interrupted by him as he pulls you into a hug. "I'm so happy for you!! You deserve it, more than anyone else", he tells you, letting you go of his arms, but you need to catch a breath before you can say anything else.

Roger's smell of patchouli and cigarettes fills your lungs, and you feel like you're melting on your chair.

You suddenly remember why you were horny most of the time around him.

His fucking smell.

And that was not just it - his jaw was more defined, his hair was shorter and bleached, and you had to stop yourself from running your fingers through them; it was even harder now that he broke the invisible barrier of touch between the two of you, the hug proving to you both that the other one was really there.

You noticed that he was looking at your details in close up, too - your lips, your eyes.

"Thanks, Rog", you answer, and you notice how much you missed saying his nickname to him, his reaction to it - his expression softens as soon as he hears it.

"When did you get here? Why didn't you call me?", he asks, and you give him a half smile. "Less than 24 hours ago. I wanted to call you - I called as soon as I got the job offer. It felt right that you should be the first to know, after everything, you know", you said, and he nodded lightly.

"But you never picked up", you said, and he sighed. "I moved out of our flat a couple months ago", he says. "Yeah, I thought so. But how's everything? How are the boys? The music? Why is your hair so short and bleached? Not that I don't love it, of course", you wink, back at your ironic flirting competition without a second thought.

"It's not that shorter", he says, holding a strand between his fingers and analysing it for a second. "I just thought I'd look better if I was even more blonde. Didn't really think much about it. The boys are doing good - we still fight all the time. But I'm very proud of our new album, don't know if you've heard of it", he said, and you scoffed.

"What do you mean? I've been a Queen fan all along. I bought A Day At The Races and everything. And all I've been hearing in the radios ever since I stepped foot in the UK again is We Are The Champions and We Will Rock You. They're both genius, by the way", you tell him, and he leans closer to you, cupping his own cheek as he puts his elbow on the bar counter.

"I didn't knew you kept paying attention. I always imagined you trying to forget us, trying to pretend we never existed", he said, and you didn't knew if his "we" meant the band or the two of you. Maybe both.

"I tried to avoid it, in the beginning. It was hard for me, and it was even harder cause I knew it all happened because of my choices", you tell him, and he frowns. "Hey, it was my fault, too", he says.

"You did take part in it. But it wasn't all you - it was mostly me, actually. I was unhappy with situations I had little control over, so I accidentally sabotaged our relationship, just to see if I still had control over something", you tell him. "I didn't notice it at the time, but I didn't love myself anymore. You can only give what you have. I couldn't love you properly and treat you right cause I didn't even do that to myself at the time", you complete, and his hand touches yours, intertwining your fingers together.

It didn't feel sexual, but it did felt intimate. He wanted to let you know he was there for you.

"Do you treat yourself properly, now?", he asks, concerned, and you nod. "Yeah. Maybe that's why destiny was nice to us today, bringing us here", you say, pointing your finger around to show your environment. "Cause maybe we can be good to each other now", you completed, and he gave you a half smile.

"I want to be nice with you. I wasn't as much as I could. I was always absent, I barely noticed how much you changed. And once I did, I didn't try to help as much as I just missed the old you. Our ending is on me, too", he says, and you can't help but smile at the situation, how unreal it feels.

"Can we take a walk, Rog? I can't really believe this is all happening. I need fresh air", you tell him, and he laughs ever so slightly. "Sure. You and your walks", he says, and you laugh.

You start walking to a park nearby. The wind is making you shiver, so Roger stops and takes his blazer off to put it on your shoulders, and you open your mouth to protest, about to say he doesn't have to do that, as you did many, many times before. "I know I don't have to, Y/N", he says, "but I want to".

He takes your hand into yours as soon as you start walking again. You smile as you realize it's almost as if you've never left, but it's also way better than it was before you left.

You don't regret leaving. If you didn't leave, you wouldn't be having this moment with Rog.

"So you did buy A Day At The Races...", he starts, swinging your arms in an almost childish manner. "Yeah...", you answer, and he turns his face so he can look at you. "Is my song still your favourite from the album?", he asks, and you laugh.

"Of course, Rog. Drowse is actually my favourite song of yours, even though I'm In Love With My Car will always hold a special place in my heart", you answered, and he laughed.

"So full of yourself, Y/N, just because you helped me record engine sounds", he told you, ironically, and you scoffed. "Hey, it's my favourite cause it reminds me of what we did after we recorded stupid engine sounds", you told him, and he smirked.

"I'm not sure if I remember that. Maybe you'll have to remind me", he said, winking, and you laughed.

You arrived at the park, and Roger sat on a bench as you sat on the grass. He looked at you, confused.

"C'mon, Rog. This way we can watch the stars", you told him, and he scoffed as he sat by your side.

"Sure, Brian", he told you, and you hit his shoulder playfully. "I miss the boys, too. Heard John had a baby", you told him, and he nodded. "Yeah, it's a beautiful kid. Reminded the rest of us how bad we are at relationships and families", he said, and it was your turn to laugh.

"It's okay. We all are. Deacy and Veronica are the exception", you told him, laying down. You took his hand into yours as he laid by your side.

"What are you up to, Y/N? I guess you still like fucking Fleetwood Mac", he said, jokingly. "Yeah, I went to their Madison Square Garden concert before coming here", you tell him, and he laughs. "Of course you did. What else?". "The Runaways", and you can see in your peripheral vision as he nods. "They're good", and you turn to the side, so you can watch him.

"Already back at analyzing my music taste, Taylor?", you ask, and he laughs, turning to the side so he can face you. "Well, it's been a while ever since I had the chance to do it. I need to make up for the lost time", he answers, and you shake your head.

"You're an asshole", you tell him, jokingly. "But yeah, I really like some of their stuff, like Cherry Bomb and You Drive Me Wild. There's also Blondie, who'll always have my heart, Debbie being a fellow new yorker, even though she's a new yorker by choice", you start telling him, but you stop once you notice he blushed.

"Roger Taylor, why are you blushing?", you ask, and it clicks once he scratched his head and looked away. "Well...", he started, but then went quiet. You didn't need him to say anything else. "Oh my God. You had an affair with her, didn't you?", and the look in his eyes answers for him.

"I can't believe it, you lucky bastard!", you tell him, and he frowns. "What, you're not jealous?" he asks, and you scoff. "Of course not. I couldn't expect you to stay pure and chaste after we broke up. You had no obligation to be, nor you were ever pure or chaste to begin with", you say, and he laughs. "Also, I'd try to have an affair with Debbie, if I ever had the chance, too. So I understand you", you tell him, and he smirks. "That would be hot", he says, and you slap his chest.

"Such a cliche fetish, Taylor. I expect better from you", you tell him, and he laughs again. "Sorry to disappoint you", he says.

And you stay there, laying in the grass with Roger by your side as you update each other in your lives - he tells you all about Freddie and Mary, and Brian and Chrissie. It seemed as if everyone from the old days but Veronica went away. And he asked you about your work, and New York, and if you still lived on the Upper East - he smiled once you told him you've moved out. He told you about the time he went to the Met last year, hoping to get to see you, and you were shocked when you realized you actually did see him outside as you went out to get lunch, but you couldn't believe it was him, since you were used to seeing him everywhere, knowing it wasn't really him. You were happy once he told you he liked to go to museums now. And once the birds start tweeting around you, and the sky becomes a lighter shade of blue, nearly lilac, you realize you've been talking for hours.

You've never felt so exposed to someone - he knew about your worst side, the saddest moments of your life, the most pathetic choices you've made - ones that hurt him - yet he was still there, laughing with you, interested in every word you said, caressing your arm over his blazer. You felt like you could be completely honest with him - he'd understand.

"Do you want to go?", Roger asks as he takes a strand of your hair and puts it behind your ear.

You look down to his lips, feeling the warmth coming from his body, his hands so close to your lips, your cheeks. You want to feel him against you again, and you think he'll be fine with that.

"Not really. Not now. Do you know what I really want, at the moment?", you ask, and he nods a "no".

"I want you to kiss me", you whisper, and he gives you a coy little smirk as he looks to your lips. "I can do that", he says, leaning in to kiss you.

And the feeling of his lips against yours, light and airy, made something inside you wake up - something you didn't notice was gone for long, but now that it's here again, you can't believe how long it's been ever since it was present. An extraordinary feeling.

You didn't feel complete - you felt complete alone, with yourself. Roger made you more than complete - he made you pour over your edges. He was like the sun - everything with him was brighter, better, more alive, more intense. He gave things the right perspective - not a new perspective, the right perspective. Everything was just better.

Especially you.

After a few moments kissing lightly, still getting used to each other's lips again, Roger kisses your cheek and whispers, his breath leaving goosebumps on your skin. "Do you know what I want?", he asks, his forehead against yours, and you nod lightly. "I want to go home with you", he tells you, and you smirk.

"I can do that", you retort, and he laughs a little as he gets up, offering you a hand. "Mademoiselle", he says, with an affected accent, and you take his hand.

You stroll along the sidewalk, still holding hands, as Roger looks for a passing cab. You just watch, and the sunlight makes his features look more real - he looked too much like an angel, a hallucination, when you were talking at night. Now he was here, a real person, by your side, looking for a cab so he could take you home - so casual, such a thing normal people do, you were sure you couldn't hallucinate with that. When you daydreamed of Roger, even before you started dating him, it was never this type of casual stuff. Now you understand that these simple moments together are what really makes you care about him so much.

He turns the key to open the door to his new place, but before he pushes it open, he turns to you.

"It's a bit empty… Not every new piece of furniture is here already", he tells you, and you nod. "I get it. My flat is mostly boxes, at the moment".

He pushes the door open and the first thing you feel is the sunrise on your eyes, the sun warming up your skin.

You take off his blazer as you get inside, and you can feel his eyes on you as your eyes adjust to the light. You put the blazer on a chair as you walk closer to the other side of the living room, where the entire wall was glass, giving you a perfect view of River Thames and its bridges, looking magical as the sun glimpsed from the horizon.

"This is amazing, Rog", you tell him, and he says "Yeah, it's a pretty nice view" from behind you, checking you out. You walk to him and playfully hit him. "Back at your old ways, I see", you say, and he smirks.

"Only if you let me" he says, and you laugh. You wonder if it's not weird that you're both barely questioning if you should do this - go back to each other's arms so quickly - but you shake the thought out of your mind. You sabotaged this relationship enough, you hurted Roger and yourself enough. Now you decide to just deal with things as they come - if right now, the two of you are interested in being together again, even if it's just now, so you will be.

"I will", you answer him, and a smile appears on his lips as your hands move to his hair, your attention now focused on how it will feel on your hands.

But then the phone rings.

"Oh, for fuck's sake", Roger complains, and you're divided between being annoyed and laughing at his response. "I'll be back in a minute", he says, turning around and walking to the phone.

He answers the phone, his voice visibly annoyed firing quick responses to whoever was on the other side of the line. "I know. I'll be there. Now you said I had the week off, so pretend I don't exist until it's over", he says, and then turns it off.

You're still where you were when he went to pick up the phone, but it felt a bit weird to just go back to it - the phone call ruined the mood.

Roger knew that. So he just smiled and shrugged, saying "I can't even have a week off without the label calling me this hour in the morning", and you give him a half smile. Instead of walking straight towards you, he stops by the record player, looking for something in the boxes on its side, until he finds what he's looking for.

You recognize what's playing, and it's something you wouldn't expect from Roger. It was Bob Marley and The Wailers new album, Exodus - Turn Your Lights Down Low, to be more specific.

You chuckled as he walked closer to you. "Didn't knew you liked reggae, Mr Taylor", you told him, and he laughed. "Are you judging my music taste, Y/N? I thought you were better than this", and he offered you a hand, taking you into his arms so you could sway your bodies to the rhythm of the song. "Also, it's a pretty appropriate song, if you pay attention to the lyrics", he said, and you did so as he started to whisper them on your ear, giving you goosebumps.

"I kept this message for you, girl

But it seems I was never on time

Still I wanna get through to you, girlie

On time, on time

I want to give you some love, good, good lovin'"

His lips went down to your neck, but you wanted to kiss him after hearing those words coming out of his mouth in his husky voice, so you entangled your fingers on his hair and pulled his lips into yours.

This kiss was more rough, it wasn't romantic as the last one in the park. This one was needy - you tried telling him how much you missed him on it, and so did he. You felt his shoulders under your hands as his hands went straight to your bum.

You chuckled against his lips as he pressed you to the wall, but once you felt cold glass against your back, you pushed him back, slightly. He looked confused.

"Don't want to test how much your window can take or flash your new neighbours, do we?", you ask, and he smiles. "If it's with you, I wouldn't mind, really", Roger tells you, but he guides you to his room anyway.

"The bed is not here yet, but the mattress already is", he says, and you nod. "Guess I really won't have an option but flashing your neighbours", you point to the window. "Hey, it's a pretty tall building. No other building around us is tall enough to really see what's happening here. Just the sun, the birds and the Thames", he says, grabbing you by your waist back into a kiss.

This one's a bit slower, more in sync with the music coming from the living room. You start to unbutton his shirt, sliding it off his arms. You break the kiss so you can look at him, his torso more defined than before. "I missed you", you tell him, kissing him again, and his eyes flicker to your chest for a moment before he mumbles an I missed you too against your lips.

You moaned when the feeling of his tongue massaging yours was combined with his thumbs brushing against your nipples over the dress. He groaned in response, and one of your hands that were on his neck went to cup his jaw, and you could feel the stubble under your fingers.

He moves his kisses to you neck as you recover your breath, playing with your earlobe as your breathing hitched. He pressed his nose against your skin. "You smell so good. I couldn't remember it, sometimes", he told you, and you smirked. "Did you think about me a lot?", you ask, and he moves away from your neck so he could look into your eyes. "When I was alone, you were usually the one I'd think about", he said, and you blushed.

This seemed to turn him on even more, as he unzipped the back of your dress and pulled it down, the chiffon making a ruffling sound as it hit the floor. Roger kicked his shoes and socks away as he kissed your cleavage, his lips leaving a fiery trace wherever they touched your skin. "God, you're so sexy", he said, pulling you closer by the hip as one of his hands slipped your bra strap off your shoulder, pulling the lace off from one of them as he cupped it.

You move your head back as you moan when his thumb repeats the movement on your nipple, but this time with no fabric between them. He moves his hands to your back and unclasps your bra, sliding the other strap off your shoulders and throwing the bra to the side.

He gets on his knees as he moves his wet kisses down to your stomach, and then closer to your underwear, and you get ready for him to take it off, but he doesn't, moving his hands to your ankles and moving them to the side, which makes you open your legs a bit wider. You hold onto his hair, a smirk on his lips as you do so, and he starts kissing the inner part of your things, and you groan, annoyed that he's teasing you.

But he's actually helping you take your shoes off, and you smile as you realize that. Once you kick your scarpins away, he strokes the sides of your legs until he reaches the elastic band of your lace underwear. He pulls it down slowly, moving his kisses to your lower stomach as they fall off and you kick them away.

You make an annoyed sound when he breaks away from you to take you to his "bed", the mattress on the ground. You lean into the pillows as he's on top of you again, and your annoyed to feel the fabric of his trousers against you. "You're wearing too many clothes", you complain, and he smirks. "Just a minute, okay, babe?", he says, and you can't hold a genuine smile at the sound of your old nickname.

He notices that, pinching your cheeks ironically before going back to kissing you. He doesn't take long before nibbling your lower lip and then moving his kisses back to your breasts, stimulating one with his thumb on one of your nipples while kissing the other. You can't help but moan.

Roger then slides the hand from your breasts to your sides, moving it down to your core, stroking you. You groan, and you groan again even louder as he starts massaging your clit. "You're so wet, already", he says, and you smirk at him, almost challenging him. What are you going to do about it? you seem to ask, raising your brow.

And he breaks contact with him, making your eyes narrow as you frown, only for them to get wide as his big, callous hands separate your thighs and his lips take the place where his fingers were moments before.

"Fuck, Roger", you moan, his tongue massaging your clit as he slides two fingers inside you. "God, Rog", you say, as he continues his movements. You're pulling at his hair to keep him where he was.

After a few minutes, you pull harder at his hair, and he starts to pump his fingers faster on you. He moans against you as you keep saying his name, and the buzz from it makes you vibrate. That's enough to send you over the edge, and he breaks away from you after your first orgasm that morning.

He licks his lips as he wraps his arms around you, still shaking from your orgasm. "You taste so good, Y/N. I also missed the way you scream my name, even though it's early in the morning. I'm happy to wake my neighbours up to this", he says, but you recovered your breath, and you want to do something you missed, too. So you turn him over so you can now be on top of him, and you kiss him, very roughly, grinding against him and feeling him hard under you.

"Told you you're wearing too many clothes", you said as he groaned. You kept riding him with his pants still on, just to tease him, as you left love marks on his skin. You missed it.

But you wanted to feel him against your tongue again, so you got off his lap and unzipped his pants, pulling them down along with his underwear as he sucked a breath. You felt like you teased him enough, but as you positioned yourself, you stroked him a few times, earning more moans from him, but nothing compared to the way he said your name as you moved your lips down on him, pressing a kiss to the tip before taking him completely into your mouth.

You loved the feeling of control having him inside your mouth always gave you, his taste on your tongue as he tugged on your hair to help you find a rhythm. You watched as one of his hands let go of you to tug on the bedlinen by the side of your head.

It was only a few minutes after you started when he pulled you away and onto his lips again. "I was about to come. I want to shag you properly before I can come, babe", he said, giving you a quick peck before turning you over so he's on top of you now.

"Sure, Rog", you say, giving him a peck back. "Can you go slow? It's been a while, at least for me. A few months", you shrug, and he gives you a soft smile.

"So guys in New York weren't that interesting, then?", he asks, and you smile. "Not that much. Nothing remarkable, really. And plain nothing ever since I found out I'd be moving here again", you told him, and he smiled. "I'll make your wait worth it", he said, and you smile. "You already did. This is gonna be a bonus", you told him.

You wrapped your legs around him, giving him free access to you while pulling him closer, and you moan at the same time once he starts to get inside you slowly, bottoming out and staying there for a few seconds.

"God, Y/N", he says, and the way he says your name drives you crazy - his beautiful voice almost sang it to your ears. He started moving slowly, so you could adapt to his size again, and soon he picked up a faster pace, closing his eyes when he cursed, looking down to watch your breasts bounce at his movements, leaving marks on your butt cheeks as he gripped on them.

It wasn't long before you had your second orgasm with him, crying out his name, which only made his movements faster - he was close again.

You watched his muscles popping under his skin as he thrusted, and you wanted to make him hit his high as soon as possible, since he did it for you twice today. "Fuck, Rog, you feel so good", you told him, and you could see the veins in his neck popping, his jaw clenching. "Come for me, Roger", you said, and he pushed into you once more, collapsing over your body later. You ran your fingers through his hair as he recovered his breath, feeling a thin layer of sweat covering your bodies.

"God, I've missed you", he told you, pressing a kiss to the curve of your neck.

You woke up, the afternoon light blinding you for a few seconds. But even once your eyes adjusted to it, you were confused about your surroundings.

Then you remember everything - Roger.

You're in his new place, and even though he's not in bed with you, you can still feel him around you - his smell, the feeling of him inside you.

You get up and pick his button up off the ground, almost second nature - you used to do it all the time. Once you get out, Roger is paying a delivery guy only in his boxers.

"Y/N! You're awake!" he smiles, shaking the delivery guy's hand a goodbye and closing the door, and you smile back at him. "Yeah, it's been a pretty long night", you told him, and he left the paper bag with the delivery on top of the table before pulling you into a hug, pressing a kiss on top of your head. "Love these long nights that turn into quite long mornings. It's 2pm, so good afternoon, sunshine, and I got us lunch", he told you, leading you to the table.

"Great, I'm starving", you told him, and he got sushi trays out of the bag. "Nice choice. Didn't think your taste for sushi would continue for so long", you told him, already eating.

"Didn't ever think I'd share sushi again with you", he shrugged, and you smiled. "Y/N, where are we?", he asked, and you frowned.

"I have no idea. I tried not to overthink us for the last few hours, but you're right. Maybe we should talk about this", you said, pointing your finger to the both of you.

"I love you, still", he said, simply, and you smiled. "I love you too, Rog. I never stopped loving you - we just needed time so we could figure our lives, maybe?", you asked, and he nodded.

"Yeah, but I'm afraid to rush things now and ruin everything. But I also don't want this fear to stop me from being with you, if I want to", he said, and you agreed.

"Maybe we should just do the stuff we want to, no strings attached, no names given for what we are. We'll just go with it, at least for now", you said, and he agreed.

"Yeah, about that. I have the next week off before I need to go promote News Of The World, and it will be a month before I'm back here in London again. Then we have the launch party and three weeks of rehearsing before tour", he told you, and you knew he wanted to compare schedules, know how long you might have together. It happened before, many times.

"I only start working next Monday", you said. It was a Sunday, almost eight full days before you had to work.

"So we have a free week. I thought about what you just said now, and I have an idea", he said, a devilish smirk on his lips, the one you knew so well, and you raised a brow. "Enlighten me, then", you told him.

"You just talked about doing the stuff we want to, just going with it, stuff like that, right? So, at the moment, I just really want to take you to Paris and spend the week with you there", he told you, and you choked on your food.

He laughed as he helped you drink some sake to get the food down. "So, do you want to go?", he asked, and you thought about it, still red from the incident.

Your natural instinct was to say no - you had to unpack your stuff, and adapt or whatever, before work. But his question - do you want to go instead of can you go - made you reconsider.

You wanted to go, so you nodded. "Sure", you said, and then laughed. Life took the most unexpected turns with you, sometimes.

"Really? Great!! I can drive you to your new place so you can pack before we go to the train station and just hop on the next train to Paris", he said, excited, pulling you in for another hug, and then moving his hands to cup your face. "I just thought it could be fun if we went some country none of us really know and discover it together. Also, it's pretty romantic, so lots of opportunities to get you turned on", he winked, and you laughed.

As you felt his fingers brush against your cheeks, you remembered something you wanted to ask, and took one of his hands into your own so you could look at it. "Rog, your hands have always been pretty callous because of the drumsticks, but now the fingertips are, too. Why?" you asked, and he shrugged. "I've been playing the guitar a lot, recently", he said, and you opened your mouth in shock.

"No way! I need to see it", you told him, and he smiled. "Sure. Right after I take a shower, I'll take you to meet my Fender. Then you can help me pack before we go to your place", he told you, pressing a kiss on your lips. "Thank you. Really, thank you", he said, and you smiled. "Thank you, Rog. I was scared you'd hate me, sometimes. Now go take that shower before I join you and we never get on a train to Paris", you told him, turning him around and slapping his ass, playfully.

As you heard the shower and Roger's singing as he showered, you walked to the window, taking in the view.

You were back in London, and back with Roger.

And you couldn't be happier.

---

Chapter 20

Masterlist

Taglist:

@taylorroger-s @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @its-nessi @anamcg317 @frenchieswiftie @queen-danielle-dani-dan @minihemo @shutup-sorry @theyrealllegends @killerqueenisthebest @ashagracelove @hardy-s @fuckinghurricanesoul @secretsweetscollectionblog @mrswinterhater @11mb0 @tamtam-go92 @derptatosaur @brianandthemays @phantom-fangirl-stuff @the-hysterical-queen @rogerofmylife @notevenlxvely @discodeakyy @x1975sos @16wiishes @jennycidesstuff @partydulce @melros-e @onevisionliz

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wallsinner · 5 years

Text

(All I Wanna Do Is) Grow Old With You || Jean x F!Reader {1}

i really wanted to get the first part of this posted tonight, because it’s @invaderzia1‘s birthday today!! happy birthday maddy, i love you and i hope this makes you at least smile on your special day!!

From the moment he first stepped foot onto the campus of Trost Community College, Jean Kirschtein had had a specific three-point life plan, he was going to meet some like minded individuals on his music course and form the hippest, indie-ist band in Trost. That he’d succeeded at after he met drummer and keyboardist couple, Connie Springer and Sasha Braus. Sure, he’d had to semi-bully his best friend, Marco Bodt into becoming his bassist, but that was point one done.

The second was to score himself the hottest girlfriend on campus and become half of a power couple, which had been realized when he’d met fashion major Hitch Dreyse, the second hottest girl on campus (the hottest girl had never really been that into him and so he’d had to let that one go) and they’d started dating in his first year. The longer he was with her, the dream of just dating the hottest girl on campus had turned into wanting to spend the rest of his life with her, get married to her and have her have a baby or two of his. Part of that had been realized.

The third and last point had been the most important and what was supposed to happen with that was that the day of his graduation from his music course, he was supposed to be approached by a big, powerful record executive -- preferably one from the Eldian Music Group, but he wasn’t fussy -- and offered a five album deal on the spot, his band Pandora’s Unboxing becoming the top band in the world. That one hadn’t been, yet.

Though to be honest it had been five years since college and he’d basically given up on that dream, but at least he was working in the industry he loved, it’d been four years now and things were pretty sweet, he and Hitch were getting, uh, hitched in a month and even though the band thing hadn’t panned out he was still working with most of Pandora’s Unboxing, albeit in a different way than he thought he would be. Sasha was gone, for one, she and Connie had married and had two kids and so she had less time for keyboarding now that she was changing diapers and shit all day. Connie still played drums in the band though, only as a second job, he worked in an office in the city during the week. Marco had ditched the band as soon as he could, but he was still Jean’s best friend and he worked for the same wedding company that Jean did, but as a driver whilst he was putting himself through law school. Jean had recruited some chick called Pieck as their third, but mostly she was just there being weird in a corner.

And so it was a Friday night, tonight he wasn’t singing at a wedding though, he was singing at the after party for a vow renewal for a ‘Mr and Mrs Grice’, who had hideous taste in music and so he’d spent most of the evening singing a shitty medley of seventies to early nineties ‘hits’ and he was more than ready for a break, a drink and check in with Hitch. And so, the microphone was handed over to Pieck and he announced that he was taking a little break and headed over to the bar as the beginning of Pieck’s favourite song to perform - ‘I’ll Make A Man Out of You’ from Disney’s late nineties movie, Mulan to grab a bottle of water.

“She’s… still not gotten over that song, huh?” Marco asked, with a cocked eyebrow as Jean settled into the seat next to him, half downing the water. Poor Marco, he was driving the Grice’s home when they decided they wanted to leave and so he’d made himself at home for the evening at the bar with his law textbooks surrounding him, like he did most weekends at gigs.

“She’ll find something new soon,” Jean shrugged with a yawn and another sip of water. “Remember when she sang ‘Alone’ by Heart in the style of Trent Reznor for about thirty gigs in as row?”

“Don’t remind me,” Marco groaned.

Jean chuckled and surveyed the scene before him -- people dancing, the Grice’s eldest son swaying with his girlfriend as he grinned and pulled her close and uh oh, the Grice’s youngest son being slipped a glass of a clear liquid that clearly wasn’t water. Jean made a mental note to keep an eye on that. Oh and there was the newest employee, a new waitress who management had hired because she was the cousin of Mina Carolina, a long term employee who was close friends with Marco. “How’s Mina’s cousin settling in? She stopped dropping food on people?”

It was Marco’s turn to chuckle. “Yeah, she’s doing pretty good now. Mina hooked her up with the gig because she’s saving up money for her wedding. I’m not sure I’d want to work in the wedding industry if I was saving up for a wedding, but hey she’s a nice person. Guess who she’s engaged to, though?”

“Who?”

“Eren Jaeger,” Jean pulled a face as Marco said the name, they’d gone to school with Eren and Jean had hated him from the moment he’d swaggered into the cafeteria. He’d been the ultimate playboy too, sleeping with anything that had so much as looked at him. God, Jean had gotten into so many fights with that boy it was unreal. “I know,” Marco shrugged. “Maybe he’s changed.”

“I guess I won’t be getting an invite to their wedding,” Jean yawned and stretched again. “Anyway, I’m going out for a smoke so I can get back up there before Pieck starts getting bottles thrown at her again.”

“You’re so mean to that girl,” Marco frowned. “But I guess I’ll see you later.”

Jean stood up and started to walk towards the kitchens, so he could head out into the alley for his smoke and some fresh air and cast another look around the room, in time to see the Grice’s youngest son wrap his hand around his mouth. It seemed like you -- Mina’s cousin -- had noticed as well because the two of you reached him at the same time, you grabbed the door open and with a practised ease Jean hoisted him out the back door, into the alleyway and by the dumpsters before the young boy could spill his guts.

As the boy vomited -- loudly -- into the dumpster, Jean rubbed his back and muttered soothing words to him about how it was okay and to get it all out.

“You seem well rehearsed in this,” Jean looked up to see you still stood by the door, a look of concern in the boys direction. “Does this happen a lot?”

“Almost every gig,” Jean looks into the dumpster and pulls a face, helping the young boy down and offering him a tissue to wipe his face. “Hey now buddy, that wasn’t smart was it? If anyone offers you a drink like that again, you say no.”

You walk over towards them, a bottle of water in your hand and you watch as the young boy swigs and spits. He thanks Jean and let’s you lead him back out into the main room and to his parents as Jean sits down for his cigarette finally. He’s surprised when you come back out and sit down next to him. “He okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Parents aren’t best pleased though, but they said to say thank you to him for helping him out.”

Jean shrugs. It comes with the job. “Break time for you too?”

“Yeah,” you say again, cracking open a can of soda and taking a swig. “Food is all done with, I’ve got a few before I need to start helping Mina with dessert. Oh hey, I heard you’re getting married, how’s the planning going?”

“Are you engaged to Eren Jaeger?” Jean blurts out, without much thought really and you look taken aback.

“Uh, yeah, do you know him?”

“Went to college with him,” Jean replies and you wince. “We didn’t really get on.”

“I would never have guessed by your tone of voice.” You reply.

“He doesn’t mind you working evenings?”

You shake your head. “He spends most of his evenings out in the city with clients these days, so if I’m working I’m not going home to an empty house.”

Oh yeah. Jean’s so sure that’s what he’s doing but for once in his life he has the good sense to keep his mouth shut. “So, when’s the wedding?”

You swallow. “Oh. We haven’t set a date yet, I keep suggesting that we do but he doesn’t really want to set one yet.” And you look so sad and Jean feels bad and like he’s put his foot in his mouth and so with one last puff on his ciggie, he throws it into the dumpster.

“I should get back,” he tells you. “I’m sure he’ll set one soon.”

You smile half-heartedly. “See you in there, Jean.”

“See you.” And as he’s about to close the door behind him, you call out his name and he turns round.

And with a big grin you ask. “When we do set a date… will you sing at my wedding?”

#jean kirschstein x reader #Jean Kirschtein #snk x reader

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kaescarribean-blog · 5 years

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week one.

Hi - a little introduction for me: I’m Kaelynn, and I am a rising junior at the University of South Carolina! This semester, however, I’m missing beloved football season and taking a semester in St. Thomas, USVI, through the National Student Exchange program (NSE). Today is Saturday, August 17th, so that means I’ve been here for four days now, although it seems just a million times longer than that. I was so incredibly nervous for this trip for the two weeks leading up to it, with fear and anxiety that I wouldn’t make any friends, that I wouldn’t be able to find my way to the school, that I wouldn’t pack enough (I didn’t, so that was a valid fear), and everything in between. Now that I’m here, thats almost entirely out the window, and I could not be more happy or grateful for this experience!

tues. aug 13:

actually, this was my birthday. I was a little sad, because I would be without any friends or family, so I wasn’t too happy about this. I woke up at 4 am and drove to Logan intl in Boston, and the next thing I knew I was awkwardly walking around the airport trying to carry the three suitcases and backpack I had on me alone, scared, and very nervous. However, a good 6 hours later and I had already landed in St. Thomas. The airport was very small, with only two carousels for baggage claim. Because of this, a group of the NSE students found each other right off the bat and were lucky enough to grab a taxi together to the school. While this was a little difficult due to us not having a lot of info from housing, being among other people who I knew were just as confused as I was was surprisingly comforting. It was a familiar anxiety and excitement, exactly like being a freshman at USC was at first. We checked in and began setting up our dorms, and it wasn’t long before we met multiple other NSE kids as well - one being my suitemate (and now roommate, but that’s another story). The girls that I had met earlier came by my room and asked us to come to Kmart, which is the big store on the island for anything you need, and so we did. We took safaris there, which are essentially pickup trucks with benches and some windows in the back. They drive on the opposite side of the road, and roads are incredibly narrow, but the safari drivers never seem to notice and drive fast and precisely weaving throughout the island. In Kmart we noticed everything was a lot more expensive than on the mainland (what everyone calls the continental US here) - a pair of twin sheets cost something like 60 bucks! Another kid bought a can of peanuts for 7! This was a little worrisome, but we’ve come to know that everyyyyything here is pretty much expensive because it has to be imported. Gas here is 3.77 a gallon. I rest my case. We got to know some more NSE kids, got some stuff for our dorm, ate dinner together at the mediocre cafeteria, and then, when we were about to go to bed, we remembered something. The beach!! Our school has one within like a 3 minute walking distance, so we decided to rally everyone up, and get down to the water. It was amazing. The water was so warm and we could see clearly down to our feet even though it was pitch black outside, and it started to seem like things were going to turn out juuuuust fine here.

wed. aug 14:

Today, we had orientation. Then, we had orientation. After we had lunch, then some more orientation. Not much happened here besides just talking more to the NSE kids and getting to know everyone better, and throwing together an intense snapchat group (a lot of kids don’t have their service working for their phones) ((mine has been working the entire time, thank god for verizon)). When we finally finished up at orientation, I think we went to the beach? It feels like a million days has passed already, but I know I’ve gone everyday, which has been amazing. After this, we found out it was “ladies night” at a place downtown, so we all hopped in some insanely overpriced taxis and headed out. We stayed there for 6 hours, and we all got to know each other that much better. I may be developing an affinity to reggae music.

thurs. aug 15:

Again, lots of orienting to do. We had a convocation ceremony that my roommate and I decided to take advantage of island time for, and showed up a few hours late. We were so tired this was the way to go for us, and we still got to hear the president’s speech and talk to our college deans, so we didn’t miss much. Compared to USC’s 26,362 student body, UVI has 2,138. This is wayyyy different from what I’m used to, but kind of nice because you can talk to the president or your dean with incredible ease - they even gave out their cell phone numbers. I’ve never even seen my dean of college, even when I needed her to sign something I had to go through someone else to get it done! We had an NSE meeting finally so we could get some more information about the island and all the happenings of the next few days, and we did ice breakers in the beginning, but honestly, at this point it felt like looking around the room I was friends with everyone already and knew at least a thing or two about each of them. We’ve got a good group -- we want to meet some more locals, but honestly even though everyone says that all the people here are friendly, we’ve experienced some stand offishness from many of the local students on campus, so its comforting to at least have each other for now. We went to the beach around 4, I think, and some kids went snorkling and saw turltes and sting rays and lots of other fish, right in Brewers Bay! This is the beach we can walk to in a few minutes, so it’s nice to know we can always go here and get good snorkling! By the end of this day, I was exhausted, and got to do some more unpacking and organizational stuff that I hadn’t had a chance for before. Then, I went to bed. I felt tired, warmed by the sun, and overwhelmingly content.

fri. aug 16:

We had another early morning today as we were catching some safaris at 9 am on a university led island tour. Of course, on island time this meant not a soul was there at 9 am but rather everyone finally strolled in at 9:30, so we left then. Everyone at home talks about island time as if it’s relaxing, however honestly a few of us if not most are finding it kind of irritating and hard to plan around. If you come here, you’ve got to got to got to got to let that go and prepare yourself to play things by ear and go with the flow. On our island tour we saw the most amazing views - from a skyline view to another beach called Coki, to the top of the mountain, we were all saying “whoa” more times than can be counted. I went on a bus that had more locals than NSE students, so I got to learn so much from them including things like eating this fruit off a tree we passed, to the fact that half the island used to be a beach. We got home from this around 1pm, the earliest we’d been released all week, so we decided to again go down to Brewers Bay for some beach time. We were there for about 6 hours, from swimming to snorkling to laying out and walking around, we never got bored. We all decided to stay until sunset (which happens extremely early here to our disdain at a cool 6:45), and the sky put on a beautiful show for us. Everything is so beautiful that it looks like a post card. After this we showered and headed to a movie night held by the university and ate hamburgers there, and relaxed at the rec center for a while playing pool and dominos. Then, one of our friends roommate who is a friendly local took us out to show us this cool lookout where you could see stars, the entire university, the beach, and even some heat lightening (which the local said wasn’t heat lightening, but I think it must have been and they just don’t call it that). We threw together a plan to go to another island, St. John, and then went to bed to rest up for it. It was another night going to bed feeling so de-stressed and happy.

sat. aug 17:

We’ve finally caught up with today! Going to St. John was unreal. We caught the 11 o’clock fast ferry out in Red Hook - the city part of town, which you have to take a safari or taxi to get to. As a side note, safaris are our - and I think everyone’s - preferred method of transportation because it is so much cheaper and honestly a better experience. Safaris are $1 if you remain on the west side (I think) of the island in the “country”, and $2 once you drive over the incredibly steep Rapoon Hill that brings you into the “city”. Then, we caught the local price of the ferry at only $12 roundtrip, and we were on our way! When we got there, there were many taxi drivers coming up to those coming off the ferry asking if we needed rides, so we got one very quickly and he helped us get to a beach that he thought was beautiful, fun, and what we were looking for. I don’t think I know what it was called, but it was exactly what he described! The water is the most amazing blue you’ve ever seen, and it simply has not worn off yet the beauty of everything that I’ve been surrounded and swallowed up into. We swam here and hung out all day. A while later, our taxi driver came to retrieve us, and brought us back into town. We all got some fries at a place called Tap and Still, due to the fact that we hadn’t eaten since 8:30 am and it was now around 4, and they were some of the absolute best I’ve ever had. Either that, or I was just insanely hungry. The ferry ride back was all of 14 minutes, and then we got another 45 minute safari back to campus. They stop running around 6:30/7pm (again, you don’t really know because of island time), so we wanted to come back in order to catch one in time. During the ride, it started down pouring, and because of how fast we were going rain was coming in through the windows slightly in the front bench and near the sides, so those of us that were sitting there got a bit soaked and then were freezing because of how cold it was! Never thought I’d be cold here, coming from Mass, but today I was definitely proved wrong. Then we got dinner, showered, and we’ve been in bed since. As has been the theme of this week, now I feel extremely tired, but over the moon happy and excited and mind blown and thankful that I will be spending my next four months in this place, with these people.

#PICS to go along with this week ~ next post

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sleepysanders · 6 years

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144 Days: Chapter 1

Summary: If you were given 144 days to save the world, would you? Logan can’t seem to find his answer to that question. Life has been so rough, he can’t say he wouldn’t mind the world ending. However, his opinion begins to change when a new student enters his classroom.

Warnings: Major character death, Suicide, NSFW implications (nothing explicit, I don’t write that), Swearing, Nightmares/Dreams, Unreality. I will be adding more to this list as the story progresses.

Pairings: Logicality, past Logince, one-sided Prinxiety.

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: This is a Sanders Sides AU of one of my favorite books at the moment, We Are the Ants by Shaun David Hutchison! My AU will differ slightly from the plotline of the book, but the basic plot will stay the same! Also, this took me weeks to write, and I honestly gave up towards the end.

Statistically speaking, life is bullshit.

All the evidence proves this. Logan's brother being an asshole, his mother's chain smoking, his shitty flings with Park - everything. And then there's Roman. God, it's been almost a full year, but Logan is still grieving. He still remembers that day as if it happened yesterday.

Virgil had called him late on a Saturday morning. Logan could hear him trying - and failing - to hold back sobs as he frantically explained. "Roman - bedsheets - he's gone - there's no note." He was talking so fast, Logan could hardly understand. But he understood as soon as he heard a knock on his bedroom door and his mother calmly told him that his boyfriend of two years was dead. The one person he cared about more than anyone or anything else had left.

At first he denied it. Roman wouldn't have done such a thing. Roman loved life. Roman was the lead in almost every school production since he got to highschool. He had plans for the future, he wanted to be on Broadway, he was always so upbeat. Logan just...couldn't believe it.

Of course, refusing to believe it wouldn't turn back time. That was impossible, (well, that's a debate for another day. Logan believed in many things most considered impossible.) Roman was gone, and he wasn't coming back, so Logan just needs to move on. He busies himself with studying. Space, marine biology, the history of the English language, anything he can find enough books and articles on. He writes review after review of various books, still closing off as much connection to the outside world as possible.

He's thankful for another distraction- his nightmares. They were confusing at first, always starting off the same. He's asleep (at least, he thinks so,) when he suddenly can't move and shadows seem to close around him. Then he's awake, laying in a bright room and strapped to a table. Odd figures hover over him, experimenting on him, poking and prodding him with strange tools. They started when he was very young, convinced he had been abducted by aliens, and told all of his classmates his stories. That's how he earned his nickname.

"Hey, Space Boy!" Logan jumped at the sudden noise and the crumbled up piece of paper that hit the back of his head. "Got abducted by any aliens recently?"

A couple kids behind him laughed. He sighed. Park Lockwood, his bully-with-benefits, tormented him about this almost every day. It was starting to get old, especially because of how Park would act when other students weren't around. He decided not to reply, just kept working on his essay about how Romeo and Juliet's ending was bullshit but then again, misunderstandings are quite common with Shakespeare.

While Park eventually gave up on bothering Logan after about five minutes, he couldn't ignore the concerned glances from Virgil. He sat next to Logan in most of his classes, but they hadn't talked longer than a few minutes in almost a year now. He was still distancing himself from any reminder of Roman - and that included his best friend. He and Virgil had been friends since grade school and did almost everything together up until recently.

"You know, you should really stand up for yourself. It's hard to watch this for years."

"I've already tried it. It didn't work, and since he gets bored eventually, ignoring it is simply the best option." He sighed, erasing what he was writing so hard he almost ripped his paper. Virgil seemed like he wanted to say something but decided against it, or didn't have time, because at that moment a new student walked in.

The boy was wearing a bright blue polo shirt with a grey cardigan tied around his shoulders and thick-rimmed glasses similar to Logan's. He looked around then looked down at his schedule. "Woops! I think I might be in the wrong class, sorry guys!"

"Well, do you know where your class is? If not, one of my students can show you around." The teacher, Mr. Williams smiled. He nodded, a little enthusiastic and a little confused "Logan! Show this student to his class, please." Mr. Williams must have known that he was dying to get out of this class and away from the other students, especially Virgil. He got up almost too quickly and lead the other boy out of the classroom.

"Alright, you have Ms. Wick this period. She's in room 203. Next up is Mr. Roades, right down the hall in room 210." Logan went over the rest of his schedule as they walked before the conversation drowned into awkward small talk. The boy introduced himself as Patton Russo, and proceeded to ask him many questions about the school. Logan only answered with "yes," "no," or "I'm not the best person to ask," to which Patton asked him not to talk badly about himself. After a few minutes, Patton gave up, and they finally reached their destination. "Lunch is in an hour, by the way." Logan mentioned before turning to leave. As much as he hated having to interact with his classmates, he had soon realized he very much preferred it to having to show Patton his classes. The guy was intimidatingly friendly, and he was exhausted just speaking to him.

"Alright, see ya later, teach!" Patton held up his hand for a high five.

Logan didn't return the high five. "I'm not a teacher, so let's not use that as a nickname."

"Aw, but you're so smart you could be one!" His smile was so bright Logan thought he was going to go blind. He sighed, said goodbye, and walked back to his class.

"Hey, Logan, can I talk to you?"

Logan froze, running over a million possibly theories as to why Mr. Williamss had to speak with him. Anxiously biting his nails, he waited for the rest of the class to leave for the next period before walking up to the teacher's desk.

"Yes, sir?" In his mind, Logan was running through as many reason that Mr. Williams wanted to talk to him. Was it about Virgil, or Park, or Patton, or-

"Logan, you've been slacking off in my class. You're currently at a 68%. I don't know how you behave in other classes, but from what the other teachers tell me, this isn't like you." He seemed genuinely concerned, which surprised Logan. He wasn't exactly used to people caring about him. Besides Roman, He thought, a pang of sadness in his chest.

"I'm alright, Mr. Williams. I will make more of an effort to bring up my grades."

His teacher didn't seem convinced. "You know, if you ever need someone to talk to, my door is always open."

Talking to Mr. Williams about his problems was the very last thing Logan wanted to do. Talking to anyone was the very last thing he wanted to do, honestly. People either thought he was an idiot for having trouble moving on, which he was, or that he's crazy, we which he honestly might be.

"I'll keep that in mind, thank you."

Logan was strapped to a chair. He was sitting in front of a large screen with an video of Earth in front of him. Also in front of him was a button. Strange. His nightmares were usually different than this.

Curious, he pressed it. The Earth stayed the same. Then the video went back to the beginning. Wondering what would happen if he didn't press it, Logan sat and watch. The Earth exploded. He repeated this test multiple times. Each time he didn't press the button, something bad happened. Whenever he did, everything was fine.

Then a date appeared on the screen: 01/29/18. Exactly 144 days from today.

Logan woke up on the bathroom floor. Another dream, he sighed. It was currently 3:36 AM. His brother was usually home by now, and judging by the sound of the TV down the hall, he was. Logan considered his options - on one hand, he didn't want to lay on the bathroom floor all night. It was unsanitary and he hasn't gotten proper sleep in weeks, which he desperately needs if he's going to bring up his grades. On the other, he would have to risk running into his brother if he wanted to get back to his room. He sighed and just sat on the edge of the bathtub. His brother would probably fall asleep in about an hour - he could wait.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #144 days #my fics

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shawnjacksonsbs · 3 years

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I'm of the belief that it's like the exploitation of emotional faculties. 12-6-20

"I look ahead to all the plans that we made And the dreams that we had I'm in a world that tries to take 'em away Oh, but I'm taking 'em back All this time I've just been too blind to understand What should matter to me My friend, this life we live Is not what we have, it's what we believe" - It's Not My Time by 3 Doors Down By myself, and sometimes to my own detriment, I can get lost in thought. Thoughts I have no business thinking about. Human nature seems to sometimes override what is in my best emotional and mental health. Fleeting, seems the best I can ever make work at times. Like when the thoughts, if anything negative arrives at the doorstep of my mind, I can just not open the door and they will leave. By not answering the door, like ever, they don't come around as often, which is nice and I'm so grateful for that. I can still remember a time when turning away thoughts and patterns seemed unreal. I do still get hung up on knowing that I may have to ignore the unwantings for the rest of my life, but it's the gratitude on my list that I need to focus on. I can just turn them away. Just like that, almost every single time. Love, trust, and understanding is a thing that should follow us into our own personal relationship with . . .ourselves too. Today I will only answer the door for love, and I will ignore the hate and fear until they leave. And I will be grateful for all that I can!! I've healed so much of myself already, but I know I've got more left to learn. Currently working on new things like graceful receiving, while maintaining old learned behaviors as to not lose any ground I've gained so far. Gracefully receiving means to take in constructive criticism as well, therefore I'm going to try and put more oomph, into smaller connected wording for a while. Maybe not reflect with as many notes from throughout the workweek. The trial time begins now. lol I assure myself; I try very hard to maintain that it will never again, in my life, be because I feel it was from a lack of loving with intent. It is this way now, and if I can help it, it will remain this way always. For example, If there was a boundary set and/or enforced, whether it feels like it or not, that was the intent of my love for _____. It's not at all unrelatable. It all started with a belief in myself, then it moved to believing in other people. The only thing needed is to know that most people, as I've said numerous times before, are not about the darkness, no matter what vibe they put out there. I'll never not believe that there is more light and light givers than not. Most of those not acting out of love entirely are lost in indifference more than perpetuating for hate or fear on purpose. It wasn't that long ago when I didn't know what this life would even look like on me. Now, look at me. I want to stay firm, yet formable. If I don't remain somewhat teachable, or at the very least, pliable, then I'm no better than those poor bastards who stay stuck in their misery because they think it's inescapable, even though they control the way through and out the other side. Its all still just a matter of. . . whatever it takes to get there. You decide your own "there". So make it count. Please continue to share your love and laughter with the world around you, because it's worth its weight in gold. Then look for the silver, even on the good days, because that's how we keep our gratitude strong. Silver and gold, not necessarily in that order. Keep being kind as well, so kind that it defines you. Of course, being civil will suffice where kindness seems impractical. Until next week; "All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another." - Anatole France

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aswithasunbeam · 6 years

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Finding Forgiveness, Chapter 8

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Eliza Hamilton can't keep punishing her husband forever. If she didn't intend to leave him, she would need to find a way to forgive him. But how? The Reynolds Pamphlet aftermath

Hamilton has a sweet moment with Washington (and a cold)

November 1798

Something wondrous and strange happened between he and Eliza in the months after she returned from Albany. The painful distance had disappeared, and, like the sun freed from passing clouds, the love between them blazed brighter than ever. They were like newlyweds in their passion and affection, discovering each other anew. Honesty was prized between them more than ever, and when they were both at home they made sure to talk to each other daily about their feelings and concerns. The closer they grew, the more he was loath to be apart from her. Even a day at the office seemed far too long.

One blissful morning came particularly to mind. The sky beyond the thick curtains had only just turned a hazy blue when he woke. Crisp fall air made the warm blankets of the bed feel heavenly. Better yet, he found his wife already awake and snuggled against him. Her big, dark eyes met his and she adjusted in the bed to press a kiss to his lips.

“Good morning,” she whispered, her small hands stroking across his chest. She smiled up at him beatifically. “You looked like you were in the grips of a pleasant dream when I woke.”

“I think perhaps I still am,” he whispered back.

She chuckled fondly and crossed her arms on his chest to rest her chin upon them. “Charmer,” she charged as she looked up at him through her long eyelashes.

As he’d wrapped his arms around her, he found himself swallowing around a sudden tightness in his throat. The contentment and peace he’d experienced in that moment had been something he’d thought lost forever. He closed his eyes and sent a prayer of thanks to both merciful God and his angelic wife for the second chance with which he’d been blessed.

Given this sudden renaissance in his marriage, his appointment as Major General was rather bittersweet. He’d longed to attain the distinguished rank for decades, to be sure. But like King Midas in the old myth, he found the granting of his wish came at a terrible price, as he was forced away from his wife and family back to the tedium of meetings over budgets and supplies.

When leaving for Philadelphia in early November, he’d been struck with a homesickness the likes of which he’d never before experienced. The day he arrived in the city, he’d sat down immediately to write to Eliza, admitting, “I am quite well, but I know not what impertinent gloom hangs over my mind, which I fear will not be entirely dissipated until I rejoin my family. A letter from you telling me you and my dear Children are well will be a consolation.”1 He’d been sick with worry until such a letter from her arrived, terrified that old distance would appear again. Quite to the contrary, she wrote him with a delightful regularity, insisting she longed for him every bit as much as he missed her.

“Is there anything you’d like to add, General?”

Only when his nephew, Phil, nudged him lightly in the side did Hamilton realize the question from Pinckney had been intended for him.

Roused at last from his daydreams, he answered belatedly, “No, I think we’ve covered everything.”

He could be forgiven his inattention. The new title still felt almost unreal, especially with General Washington sitting at the head of the table. His foggy head helped little. The children had passed around a terrible cold at the end of October, and apparently gifted it to him. The headache, blocked nose and sore throat had been plaguing him for the last week and half, not to mention the lingering and frustrating cough which worsened at night so as to make sleep nearly impossible. Seated in a chair near the fire in the blissfully warm meeting room, he’d been half asleep for most of the monotonous discussion.

Chairs scraped against the wooden floor as the officers began to rise. Phil leaned over to collect the papers spread out in front of him. He noticed Knox speaking to Washington in a hushed tone, but he barely had time to wonder what they were discussing when James McHenry appeared in front of him.

Poor Mac had the run down air of a man in over his head. Though an able military officer during the Revolution and a competent Secretary in the later years of Washington’s administration, Mac simply didn’t have the skill to run the War Department in such a time of crisis. They’d exchanged some tense letters recently, but he was glad to see Mac approached him with an open expression.

“You look terrible,” Mac stated in lieu of a greeting.

“Thank you,” he replied flatly, gratified to see his old friend laugh in response.

Mac reached out to touch his forehead and frowned when he leaned away. “I just want to be sure you don’t have a fever.”

“I’m fine,” he assured, even as he touched his handkerchief to his nose. “It’s only a cold. The children all had it before I left New York.”

“Given the number of times I’ve been called upon to keep you alive from ‘just a cold,’ you’ll forgive my lack of faith in your self-assessment,” Mac parried, stepping forward and laying a palm on his head. Whatever positions his friend might hold, he would always remain first and foremost a physician, Hamilton thought fondly.

“Will I live, doctor?” he asked facetiously as he gave himself over to Mac’s fussing.

“You should get some rest,” Mac insisted. That he said no more told Hamilton that nothing was seriously wrong with him.

“I’ll try,” he promised.

Mac heaved a sigh, and seemed to search for another topic of conversation. Hamilton had the sneaking suspicion that his friend wanted to put off returning to his office as long as possible. It was a desire he recalled well.

“General Washington set a time to have the conference regarding expense reimbursements,” he reported, taking pity. “I should have a report for you sometime next week.”

“That’s good.” Mac sighed again, a tense weariness apparent in the sag of his shoulders. “Well, I should be getting back. I have a meeting with President Adams later today.”

He and Mac shared a commiserating smile at the President’s name, as though it were a private joke between them.

“Have a good evening, Mac,” he wished sincerely.

“And yourself,” Mac replied, nodding as he stepped away to bid General Washington farewell.

Hamilton turned away from the lingering officers towards the fireplace as he tried to subtly blow his nose.

“Sir?” Phil was at his side suddenly holding a heaping stack of papers. “Where I should I bring these?”

The new form of address from his nephew also felt odd still. The boy had been calling him Uncle Ham since the tender age of two; now when Phil addressed him as ‘General Hamilton’ and ‘Sir,’ Hamilton had to consciously fight down a smile. He cast his eye over the first page of notes from the meeting and decided, “Take them back to Mr. Wolcott’s. I’ll look at them later.”

“Yes, sir,” Phil replied with a sharp salute. “Will you require anything else of me, sir?”

“You are dismissed, Captain.” He gave the boy a gentle smile. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you, sir,” Phil grinned, exiting the room with the boundless energy of the young. He had no doubt the boy had plenty of invitations to keep him busy. Handsome, wealthy, and now a Captain in the army, the young ladies of Philadelphia practically fainted in his nephew’s presence.

“Please close the door behind you,” he heard Washington request. He looked over to see Knox slowly limping from the room.

Feeling his gaze, Knox glanced over at him and saluted halfheartedly. “Good evening, General Hamilton.”

He transferred his handkerchief to his other hand to return the salute. “Good evening, sir.”

When the door closed with a tap, Washington turned towards him, the stiff, statuesque persona easing slightly now that they were alone. “I’m glad to see things between you and General Knox have thawed.”

That was going a bit far, in his opinion, but he nodded. “General Knox is an honorable and capable officer, sir. I had no doubt that we would work well together in our common cause.” The aged General hadn’t been openly hostile to him, at least, although Hamilton knew Knox’s placement beneath him in the ranking had stung his pride.

Washington paced over to stand beside him near the fire. They stood side by side, watching the flames crackle in the grate. When he raised the handkerchief to stile a cough, he felt a warm hand land comfortingly on his back.

“You appear unwell today, my boy,” Washington remarked when he’d caught his breath. He found with some surprise that the endearment didn’t grate on him as it once had; rather, it left him feeling somewhat nostalgic. Nearing his forty-second year, very few people referred to him as a boy anymore, there’s or otherwise.

“Just a cold, sir,” he repeated. “Mac’s already lectured me on the importance of rest. I’ll be well again in no time.”

Washington nodded, though his hand remained in place on Hamilton’s back. Another beat of comfortable silence past between them. As much as he had left to do today, he was glad for the moment of quiet companionship.

“Your young nephew seems to be doing well,” Washington commented. “Able in his position, and quite popular in society. He reminds me very much of you as a young man.”

“I don’t think I was ever quite so popular in society,” he argued mildly. “But yes, he’s doing very well.”

“I wish to get to know him better before we depart Philadelphia. I’ve spent little time with him as of yet, and I’d like to know of the young talent in our army,” Washington mused.

“I’m sure he’d be honored at the opportunity, sir,” Hamilton replied. More likely, poor Phil would be overcome with nerves at the thought of a private meeting with His Excellency. He smirked slightly, and added, “Although you have spent some time with him before, if you recall.”

“Have I?”

“In Morristown,” he prompted. When Washington frowned in thought, he elaborated, “He was only two at the time. He was the little boy Eliza was often carting around during our last winter encampment there.”

“Ah, yes,” Washington smiled slightly again at the memory. “Tell me, how is Mrs. Hamilton?”

“Exceedingly well,” he answered easily. “Although somewhat harried when I left, with a house full of sniffling children to contend with.”

“I assume your current state of health is thanks to the very same sniffling children?” Washington speculated.

He nodded with a chuckle.

“You must bring them all to Mount Vernon for a visit soon,” Washington insisted. “Mrs. Washington would be thrilled to see your dear wife and to have a house full of children.”

He smiled. “That’s very kind, sir. Thank you. Although I think you’d regret your offer if I ever were to impose my brood upon you.”

Washington exhaled a soft huff of amusement, and continued, in a soft voice, “I’ve invited the Vice President to dine with me tonight. Would you care to join us? I’d appreciate your good company.”

He glanced sideways at his commander, a sly smirk playing on his lips. “As delightful as I’m sure a meal with Mr. Jefferson would be, I regrettably have other plans. I promised Senator Read I’d join him.”

The corner of Washington’s lip twitched subtly, but the slight show of amusement from his General was as good as an open grin on another man. “I see,” Washington said simply.

“Even that I’m considering cancelling,” he added. “I think perhaps a night in to tend to my cold is needed.”

“You’ve grown wiser since your youth. I’d expected to see you faint to the floor before hearing you admit that you required rest.”

He couldn’t exactly argue, knowing he’d done exactly that in his younger days. He smiled at his old General, and returned to their prior topic. “If you’re looking for a convenient escape from your illustrious guest, I could always send you an urgent message before the appointed time of the meal. We could sip some brandy at Wolcott’s and plan a defense against an imaginary invasion.”

Surprisingly, Washington looked as if he was giving the offer some thought before he refused, a resigned expression on his worn face. “I do encourage you to take the night to rest, though, son. I need you healthy and strong for what’s to come.”

“Yes, sir,” he agreed.

“You’re doing very well,” Washington added. A warm feeling rose within him at the unexpected praise from his commander. “Not that I expected otherwise. I was sincere when I said I would not consent to return if anyone else were to be in your post. As always, you’ve more than proven worthy of my confidence and high regard.”

“Thank you, sir.” That hardly seemed enough of a reply. With all that had happened in the past year, the General’s unshakable confidence in him felt more precious than ever. Were it not for Washington’s stubborn insistence, he doubted he could have returned to public life at all, much less as Inspector General of the army.

When he opened his mouth to convey more of his gratitude, however, his cough interrupted him once more. As the evening drew on, he knew it would only grow worse. Washington steadied him, patting his back gently until the fit had past.

“Go home and rest, my boy,” Washington insisted when he’d composed himself once more. “We’ll talk more tomorrow. Try taking a spoonful of honey before you lie down.”

“Honey, sir?”

“To soothe your throat. An old trick of Mrs. Washington’s that has never failed me.”

He nodded thoughtfully. Worth a try, he supposed.

They bid each other a good night, and he gratefully climbed into his carriage for the short ride to the corner of Spruce and Fourth, where Wolcott was living. His successor at Treasury had pressed him ceaselessly to stay in his home rather than an inn while he was in the city, and he’d eventually agreed. Though Mrs. Wolcott had been dangerously unwell recently, the couple was warm and welcoming, insisting that they were honored to share their home.

When he arrived at the house, he asked for tea and honey to be sent to his room and bid his hostess a good evening. Phil had left the pile of papers in his room as requested, but he pushed them aside, instead reaching for a blank sheet of paper. A servant brought him a tea tray as he finished penning his short note of apology to Jacob Read: “I am mortified My Dear Sir that I cannot have the pleasure of dining with you today as I promised; but I am so extremely deranged in point of health that I am compelled to stay at home repose & muse.”2 The servant obligingly agreed to send the note for him, and he found himself free to rest for the night.

The tea and honey soothed his cough, but his mind felt too fuzzy to concentrate properly on anything of consequence. The pile of military papers remained untouched on his desk, as did the legal cases he’d brought to maintain his practice (an unfortunate necessity until Mac and Wolcott managed to arrange payment for his military services). Instead, he reclined on his bed and let his mind wander to Eliza and his darling children.

Perhaps they could manage a trip to Mount Vernon next year, he thought fancifully as he blew his nose once again. A smile curled his lips as he pictured the little ones running about the back lawn and splashing in the cool water of the Potomac. Eliza revered Mrs. Washington, and he knew she would enjoy the chance to spend some meaningful time with the good lady. Perhaps he’d take his new fowling piece and Old Peggy, his retriever dog, with him to go for a hunt with Pip and the General. He’d meant to take the boy for a hunt last spring, but was too pressed with business to escape from town.

The imagined domestic scenes were so pleasant, he wished he could make them a daily reality. No more politics, no more war: just his loving family, together and happy in the country. The foray back into public life, however necessary for the country’s good, had shown him unequivocally that his heart and his happiness lay not in honors and offices, but with his family.

His eyes popped open. Why could such a scene not be his daily reality? They had a tidy savings from his legal practice tucked away, enough for a good plot of land in the country. He could build a home for Eliza and the children, perhaps not as grand as General Washington’s, but lovely and warm and theirs.

The thought overwhelmed him. He could picture the beautiful garden, Eliza beckoning him through the paths of flowers as the children played in the grass. They’d paint the house a sunny yellow as a symbol of their happiness. Yes, he decided. Yes, they could do this.

He rose from bed, sat at the small table piled high with papers, and pulled a blank sheet of paper to him.

“I have formed a sweet project, of which I will make you confident when I come to New York, and in which I rely that you will cooperate with me chearfully,” he informed her rather cryptically. He grinned as he added teasingly, “You may guess and guess and guess again Your guessing will be still in vain. But you will not be the less pleased when you come to understand and realize the scheme.”3

An impulsive thought, he granted as he read over the letter, born of restless musing while he was cooped up in bed. But the sheer delight that filled him as he pictured the little country seat was enough to spur him on. A little more time in public service, a little more work at his career, and then paradise could be his.

1 Hamilton to Eliza, 10 November 1798 2 Hamilton to Jacob Read, November 1798 3 Hamilton to Eliza, 19 November 1798

#hamilton fanfic #alexander hamilton #eliza hamilton #hamliza #historical hamliza #hamilton #reynolds pamphlet #forgiveness

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sincerelybluevase · 7 years

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Fanfic Friday: Breathless, Chapter 2

Thanks to @purple-roses-words-and-love for betaing.

Patrick held the steering wheel very tightly, even though the autumn weather made it feel like ice. He couldn’t think about his cold hands, or about the patients he had to see tomorrow. There was only room for one person right now: Sister Bernadette.

What if she doesn’t want to see me? he thought, and felt despair coil in his belly. He pushed it away firmly, and trained his eyes on the road. The way to St. Anne’s sanatorium was not a busy one, though, and he felt his mind begin to wander again.

Patrick was not a religious man, but whenever he thought of that evening with Sister Bernadette, he could not help but feel as if it had been something greater than could be described with words reserved for every day experiences that had brought them together. Whether that something was God, or Providence, or something else entirely was not something he could answer, thus he felt it was best left alone.

He hadn’t known what he’d expected when she’d suddenly stood before him at the surgery that night, dressed in her oversized coat and a nightgown that looked like it had gone out of style two decades ago. She wasn’t wearing her cap, and her hair seemed almost ginger in the soft glow of the overhead lamp.

For a moment, he’d thought that it was a dream, or a hallucination.

Then, she’d touched him, had embraced him almost a bit too tight to be comfortable. He could smell her shampoo and the starch the nuns used to keep their wimples unwrinkled, and had known it really was her.

Whatever had happened next, though, had felt decidedly unreal.

Or maybe it was one of the realest things I’ve ever experienced, Patrick thought, tearing his eyes away from skittish autumn leaves that chased each other. He trained his gaze on the road instead.

Maybe it was because the surgery so late at night had become a liminal space.

Maybe it wasn’t the surgery at all, but Sister Bernadette herself who had shifted into something different with the knowledge that she was no longer as firmly planted in the realm of the living as she’d previously thought.

Or maybe they’d just been two desperate adults trying to find comfort in the arms of another. He’d been so afraid that he’d cried afterwards, as if he were a little boy. He had turned away as he got dressed, ashamed of his sudden outburst of emotion. She’d appeared beside him, silent as a ghost, and had embraced him again.

“I can bring you back by car,” he’d murmured, kissing her hair.

“No. You have to go home, to Timothy, and then you need to rest. There are patients to see tomorrow, things to do…” She’d stepped away from him, had given him a small, sad smile, and had disappeared as quietly as she’d come.

He’d brought her to the London for further tests the day afterwards, had taken her to the sanatorium, but they hadn’t spoken about that night, as if by mutual agreement. He’d wanted to ask her if she meant to renounce her vows, if she meant to come back to him as an ordinary woman rather than a nun, but he daren’t. Her first priority was getting better. It was all she should focus on.

Patrick wrote to her every week to make sure she’d know he thought about her. His letters were friendly, civil. He didn’t want to presume too much, even though it was almost impossible not to presume after their lovemaking.

No answers came.

His letters were laced with ever more silent desperation. His resolve to go and see her grew. There were things he couldn’t say in a letter.

After all, he didn’t even know her name.

***

He parked the car in front of the sanatorium. It was a large building, the stones the colour of sand. The trees that surrounded it had started to shed their leaves, the ones they still clutched in their twiggy grip dipped in gold and orange and brown.

Patrick wiped his hands on his trousers and inhaled deeply. “You’ll be fine,” he told himself, then stepped out of the car.

Inside the building, there lay an almost eerie hush. He stood still for a moment, toying with the idea of turning back and leaving, abandoning this plan. She didn’t know he was coming; what if she didn’t want him here? Her recovery was of the utmost importance; what if his presence here would unbalance her? But he needed to see how she was doing, and though he didn’t much like to think of rights, he did feel he was somewhat justified in checking up on her, both in his capacity as her GP and her lover.

Regardless of what she decides, he thought, then exhaled and started moving.

“Can I help you?” a pretty nurse with round cheeks asked him.

“I’m looking for Sister Bernadette. I’m her GP. Doctor Turner,” he said, extending his hand.

She shook it, her grip firm, her hand dry and warm. “Nurse Peters. I didn’t know she was expecting you,” she said, a sly smile playing on her face.

Patrick suddenly wondered if Sister Bernadette had mentioned him to the staff here, and what she’d told them.

“I was in the neighbourhood,” he lied. “It’s been a while since I’ve been to St. Anne’s. I thought I might check up on the place, see how it’s faring.”

“Ever better since we’ve got the Triple Treatment,” Nurse Peters said, directing him into a room with large windows that looked out over the spacious grounds. There were chairs and tables and sofas, some of them occupied, most of them empty.

“Antibiotics are a wonder drug,” Patrick agreed, shifting his doctor’s bag from one hand to the other, resisting the urge to dig around in his coat’s pocket for his cigarette case.

“A miracle of the modern age. I’ll tell her you’re here,” Nurse Peters said, deftly moving between the furniture, leaving Patrick near the door.

He adjusted his scarf, trying not to strain his neck as his eyes followed the nurse, looking for Sister Bernadette.

There she was. She wore her cap, but not her wimple, and sat curled up at the end of a sofa, near the window. He saw her from behind, and couldn’t be sure what she’d been doing before Nurse Peters gently tapped her on the shoulder. If he had to hazard a guess, he’d say she’d been reading.

She looked up, listened to the nurse. She turned around, a ready smile on her face. When she saw him, her eyes widened in surprise. She listened to another thing Nurse Peters said, then gave her a small nod, almost curt in its littleness.

Nurse Peters returned, smiling openly. “She’ll see you,” she said.

Was he mistaken, or did the nurse give him a wink? He didn’t know, didn’t care; he threaded his way between the stools and chairs and coffee tables, legs feeling both weak as elastic and coiled tight as springs.

“Good morning, Sister,” he said, voice a little hoarse.

She flicked her eyes up. They were almost liquid, and shone like stars. A side-effect of the TB, Patrick knew, but it did make her look luminous. “Hello, Doctor Turner,” she said, her Scottish accent making it sound almost as if she were purring.

“Were you expecting someone else?” he asked.

“Sister Julienne will visit later today.”

“I’m glad. You need visitors.” He smiled at her.

She returned it, then pointed to a chair that stood very near her. “Won’t you sit down?”

“Of course.” He placed is bag against the chair, then flopped into it, wincing as his knees popped. “How are you?” he asked.

“The Triple Treatment and I seem to agree with each other,” she said, putting the book she’d cradled in her lap on a wobbly coffee table.

“I’m glad,” Patrick said. He tapped his fingertips together, uncertain of what to say. There was so much that needed to be said, so much he hadn’t put in his letters, but there were other people here, and she was still a nun…

“How’s Timothy?” she asked.

“You’ll find him much the same when you return. He’s grown a bit, but for the rest, he’s still Timothy.”

Before he could say any more, Nurse Peters placed a tray with china cups and a steaming teapot on the table. “Here you go,” she said, and this time, she definitely gave him a wink.

Patrick felt his cheeks grow scarlet. He cleared his throat and trained his eyes on the plate with biscuits, taking one between his fingers and almost dropping it.

“Thank you,” Sister Bernadette said, and poured the tea.

They were both silent for a little while, unsure of how to proceed.

Patrick ate his biscuit, then fumbled in his pocket for a little match box and placed it on the arm of the sofa. “Here.”

She frowned, then took it in her hand, pushing it open. “A dead butterfly,” she said, lines between her eyebrows smoothing themselves.

“Timothy found it in the windowsill. He asked me if I could tell him the cause of death, but I’m afraid insects have never been my field of expertise. He wanted to send it to you, to see if maybe you did know, or else if one of the doctors here might.”

“He has an inquiring mind,” Sister Bernadette noted, again giving him that small, soft smile.

“He asks after you every day. He wants to know when you’ll come back.” His heart beat a loud tattoo in his chest, causing his blood to roar in his ears. “I want to know when you come back, and how,” he whispered.

She bit her lip, and looked away.

“I’m sorry. That was very forward of me,” Patrick said, inwardly cursing himself.

She surprised him by taking his hand in hers and squeezing it. Her fingers were cold, her hand small and softer than he remembered.

“I’ve been thinking about it a great deal,” she whispered. There was a breathiness to her voice that he didn’t remember, either. “But I had to be absolutely sure that this is the right path.”

He wanted to tell her she didn’t seem to have such reservations before, at the surgery, when she was in his arms, but that would have been a very spiteful thing to say, and the last thing he desired was to hurt her. “If you want it, then surely…” he started.

“It’s not about what I want; it’s about what God wants.”

He looked at her hand, at the ring that adorned her finger and signified she’d already made vows that she’d intended to keep for a lifetime. He stroked her knuckles. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come unannounced. It was a very selfish thing to do, but I was worried. I wrote you…”

“I know.”

“I was very afraid that your health was in decline.”

“I didn’t refrain from writing you because I was ill; I didn’t write to you because I needed time to think, and to pray.”

They were silent for a little while.

“Should I go?” he asked.

Her head snapped up. “Doctor Turner, I’m sorry. I’m not the kind of woman to toy with a man’s heart, and…” she couldn’t speak, only squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.

“I’d never think that of you,” Patrick said, enveloping her hand with his, rubbing a bit of life back into her icy digits.

“I know you so little…” her voice trailed off.

“I shouldn’t have come,” he murmured.

She opened her eyes and took hold of his hand with such force that it almost hurt. “No!” she said, louder than she’d probably intended. “Don’t you see? If I leave the Order, it has to be because of more than you and Timothy. I can’t renounce my vows because I want to be your wife and his mother. It doesn’t matter how much I might want it, how everything else I’ve ever wished for pales in comparison. If I leave the Order, it has to be because He wants me to. I’ve made a promise, and I’ve put my life in His hands. It is not my own to give.” She was very pale, but two spots of colour burned in her cheeks. Her chest was rising rapidly, and she was slightly out of breath.

“If I couldn’t accept that, I wouldn’t deserve you,” he said.

“I couldn’t have fallen in love with you if you didn’t say things like that, if you didn’t mean them,” she said.

“I have to go home. Timothy is at his grandmother’s; she’ll expect me to have dinner with them, and I still have some files to go through.” And he wanted to leave her in peace, so she could make up her mind without him to agitate her.

“Give Timothy my love. I’ll ask one of the doctors here to look at his butterfly, see if we can find a cause of death,” Sister Bernadette said.

“He’ll appreciate that.” Patrick stood and took his bag, then quickly ducked down to press a kiss against the back of her hand.

It was only when he straightened up that he saw Sister Julienne stare at them.

Oh God, he thought, what will we do now?

#call the midwife #call the midwife fanfic #turnadette #sister bernadette #doctor turner

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mrandmrsvex · 7 years

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Rating: General Audiences Relationships: perc'ahlia - Relationship, Vax'leth (implied) Characters: Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III, Vex'ahlia, Keyleth Additional Tags: Angst, Fluff, Post-Vecna, Baby, Keyleth and Percy as BFFs

Summary:

Caring for a newborn is time-consuming and tiring, Percy has learned. So tiring. His constant worry doesn't help, either. So when his friend Keyleth offers to help out - he still can't shut off his brain. He might even have to.. *shudder*... TALK about his emotions.

Notes:

This could, in theory, be seen as a second part to my first fic "The Future I've Chosen"... set a few months or maybe a year later.

Because I love the friendship between Keyleth and Percival and I feel like it should be written about much, much more <3

The baby was four weeks old, now. Four weeks. It still felt unreal to Percy, but here they were, cuddled up in the large armchair he'd had transported from the library to the newly furnished nursery. An armchair large enough for a sleeping half-elf, a wide-awake tiny quarter-elf and him. The baby cooed and giggled, and Percy feared for a second it'd wake Vex up, but she was long gone after a day that seemed to stretch on forever.

Four weeks. It would be a blatant lie if he said it wasn't the greatest four weeks he ever had. Oh sure, it was stressful and hectic and chaotic – the baby had decided to arrive a bit too early for their planning (and gods know Percy had planned it meticulously), so they had to hurry through all the official ceremonies and announcements and presentations. But all the stress was nothing against the many moments of peace and joy. Watching Vex feeding the baby in her arms, nothing but a poof of dark black hair against her glowing skin. Learning to bathe the little thing, so small and fragile in his hands. Hearing the noises of quiet blubbering, sniffling, cooing coming from the crib when she finally fell asleep and before they retired to their own bedroom.

However, it would also be a lie if he said that the past four weeks weren't also the most strenuous he ever had.

Fighting dragons and even an undead god seemed to pale against caring for a newborn who combined her father's restless nights with her mother's early mornings. He tried to remember the last time he felt so tired, and couldn't come up with anything. Maybe right after he'd been resurrected.

Even now, he could feel his eyelids slowly pulling down and had a hard time keeping himself awake. He couldn't sleep now, not when Vex was fast asleep herself, and the baby still awake on his chest. He could maybe sleep later, when he'd carried both his ladies to their respective beds, but he knew already it wouldn't be a sound sleep – what if the baby woke up and cried? What if – even worse – it didn't wake up for some horrible reason? He had to be attentive at any moment, and it was draining him.

Luckily, the little one decided to doze off sooner than usual today. He slowly slipped out of the armchair, careful not to rustle Vex, and carried the baby to the large and ornamental crib they'd found in the attic. It took a bit more energy to carry his wife to bed next door, but even that didn't wake her up. Percy studied her sleeping face between the pillows and wondered how she could be so peaceful and calm and resting, when there was so much to worry about – all – the – time. But it didn't take long for him to drift off as well.

--------------------------------

It couldn't have been more than a few hours before he was wide awake again, though. He could hear the distinct noise of a quiet wail starting, meaning that soon enough there would be a full-on proper cry happening next door. Vex mumbled next to him, turning slightly, her eyes still closed. „Shh, dear. She's not hungry, just awake. I'm going.“ He calmed her with a soft kiss to her forehead, and she was asleep again in seconds.

The cold stonefloor against his bare feet as he passed through the door to the nursery's carpet was enough to wake him fully. In the half-darkness of the room, the baby had already begun to cry louder, and only lowered her volume a bit as he picked her up and gently put her on her shoulder. „Sssh, dear, sssh. You'll wake mama again.“ He quickly took her far away from the bed rooms, across the halls down to the reading room with its small veranda, all the while swaying from side to side and mumbling calming words. It didn't help. If the baby was awake, she was awake, and there was no turning back from another day of work, despite the sun not yet fully shining through the room.

He was only half-aware of the sound outside the veranda doors, caught only a glimpse of the magical glow coming from one of the trees in the garden – without his glasses, lying forgotten on the bedside table, he could barely see past the glass doors. But when the figure who'd just arrived at them lifted a hand close to her body and waved as awkward as she could, he recognised her immediately.

„Keyleth!“ A quick fumble with one hand opened the door, and the druid stepped in, bringing with her an airy wave from outside, smelling of pine cones and apples and the crisp autumn morning. „Vex didn't tell me you were visiting!“

„Oh, Vex didn't know. It was a spur of the moment thing.“ Keyleth gave him a half-hug, what with the baby on his other shoulder, to whom she quickly turned her attention. „Hello little Ela! You look so lovely so early in the morning! Did you wake up your papa?“ He couldn't say a thing before she'd already grabbed the baby from his arm and swaddled her. As socially awkward as Keyleth could be around other adults, she was a natural with babies. Elaina's little wail stopped immediately and turned to a soft giggle in her arms. „Well, we're happy to see you any time. Especially if you bring your special druid powers of making babies stop crying, it seems.“

Her laughter was bright as she patted his shoulder. „Oh, it's probably just from the surprise of seeing someone besides her parents. Have you let her out of your sight at all in the past four weeks?“ „Of course not.“ He replied indignant. „She's a baby, Keyleth. She pretty much needs constant attention.“ „Well, she has mine now. So how about you go back to bed with your lovely wife and rest a bit, and then we can all have breakfast later! If, uh, I mean, if it's alright that I stay for the day.“ He didn't even bother to reply to her question, considering all of Vox Machina still had a room in the castle constantly ready if any of them decided to visit. The idea of going back to sleep was tempting, but he quickly shook his head. „I'm awake now anyway. But I'd be thankful if you could watch her for a moment while I, erm, get presentable.“ He looked down at his somewhat ratty pyjamas, partially stained by baby spit up, and heard Keyleth snicker.

-----------------------------------

It was a lovely day. Vex had woken up right as he'd finished getting dressed, and hearing of their friend's visit made her get ready even faster than usual. After breakfast – from which Cassandra excused herself early to work on administrative things – they'd spent some time in the garden, Keyleth entertaining the little baby in her Percy-built carrier with various magical things involving autumn leaves. When Cassandra called Vex in to discuss something concerning the Grey Hunt, Keyleth suggested a walk through Whitestone with Percy and the baby. He obliged, considering how much the people of the town loved seeing their new heiress out and about. Their path took them slowly towards the Sun Tree, as he'd expected, but it seemed like that wasn't the only goal Keyleth had in mind.

„Soooo... I was wondering.“ She abruptly changed the topic of their conversation. „If you and Vex would mind me staying for a bit with you all.“ „Whitestone is your home as much as ours, you know that.“ He watched her fumble with her staff. „But don't you... don't your people need you at the moment?“ Keyleth had thrown herself into her role as Voice of the Tempest after their fight with Vecna, partially, Percy assumed, to keep her mind busy and away from her loss of Vax. „They do. Which is why I'm here.“ She played with Elaina's hand, grabbing for her long red hair. „You're my people as well. And I feel like you really need some help right now.“ Her look drifted towards the dark circles under his eyes. They'd always been there, after all he'd been through before meeting Vox Machina, making him look older than he was – but right now, they were more intense than ever before. „I'm afraid you're spreading yourself very thin, Percy.“

„I'm okay.“ He lied as he always did when she asked. „Just a bit tired, but I'd say that is normal for a new parent.“ „It's not healthy, though.“ Her voice was as stern as she could muster, which wasn't much. „I can't offer a lot, but having a third helping hand in the house, I think, would be good for you. I can change diapers and get up in the night if she just needs company. My room is almost as close as yours.“ It was hard not to admit how wonderful that sounded to him. „We'd be happy to have you stay for as long as you want. I know Vex definitely needs some company apart from two grouchy de Rolos.“

Keyleth laughed her bright laugh again, before continuing innocently enough. „I'm sure you and Cassandra are both good company and help for her.“ „Cassandra is tremendous help. She's taken on basically all royal duties at the moment. Heaven knows I haven't the time for it all. And she's managed all the official bits, the announcements, the ceremonies... She's a born coordinator, it seems.“ He chuckled – as if he'd expected anything else from his little sister, always acting 15 years her senior. „But, ah.“ He hesitated. „She's not... she loves Elaina, that much is clear. She's just not, we were never a very... hands-on family.“ „Well, then you should take advantage of the hands-on new family you got yourself as well.“ He nodded. She was right, of course, as she so often was when it came to her friend's well-being.

--------------------------

Vex was overjoyed about Keyleth's offer when Percy told her about it, after lunch, when they put Elaina down for her midday nap. „Oh, sweet, sweet Keyleth. What a dear she is. Maybe she'll finally convince you to get some sleep, if your wife and sister can't manage.“ She teasingly poked Percy's side, but stopped short when she saw the serious tone on his face. „What's wrong, darling?“ „I just don't want to ask for too much from her.“ He sighed. „It's been a while now, but she's still dealing with- I know she's always eager to help but she needs to take care of herself as well.“ „Darling.“ Vex cupped his face in her hands. „She offered this. I'm sure we'll notice if it gets too much for her. She's not one to hide her feelings well, remember.“ A soft stroking on his cheeks. „Is that really all that bothers you, though?“ He looked away from her, she noticed. „I just worry.“ „You always do. Too much, I'd say.“

It was almost a calm sleep he drifted into at evening, after bathing the baby and putting her to bed together with Vex and Keyleth, the latter insistent on being shown how to do it all properly. But it wasn't long before he heard the first small cry, followed by a few more, that had him sitting up in his bed as usual. By the time he put his feet to the floor, though, the crying had stopped. It didn't stop him from tiptoe-ing over to the nursery and carefully opening the door.

„Percy!“ Keyleth's voice was almost angry as she stared at him, stood in the doorway, while she put the already asleep Elaina back into her crib. „The point of this arrangement was not to have you wake up with me, you doofus!“ „I just, I heard the baby cry, I couldn't-“ He tried to protest, but his friend wasn't having it. „And you also heard her stop again when I took care of it. Yet here you are.“ He grumbled. „It's really more of an instinct by now, Keyleth.“ „An instinct that gets you all the way across the room and through the door when it's become obvious there's no more crying?“ „No more crying is not necessarily a good thing. Silence is just as bad.“ His voice was tense, he noticed himself. Keyleth had made her way over to him and put a hand on his arm. „I think you need to talk about things. Do you want to talk about this?“ „No.“ He answered, honestly for a change. „But I suspect you'll make me anyway.“ She smiled, at least. „Come on. We'll go to the reading room, leave the three de Rolo ladies sleep quietly. I'm sure there's a drink for you in one of the cabinets there, as well.“

--------------------------------------------

The glass was empty by now, the ice cube slowly melting, but neither of the two had said a word yet. Keyleth broke the silence by clearing her throat, wrapped in her mantle, her feet up against Percy's side on the chaiselongue they were sharing. „So.“ She tried to sound nonchalant. „Silence is just as bad. Why?“ „Gods, Keyleth.“ Percy could only muster a very coarse laugh while leaning forward, elbows on his knees. „I don't know. How would you feel if there was no sound at all coming from the crib? No sign of anything?“ „She's just asleep then, Percy. She's not...“ It was hard to find the word. „She could be.“ He brushed his hand through his hair, tousling it and making it stand up even more than it already did from the short sleep. „There's... so much that could happen. So many dangers. So much to look out for.“ „She's as safe as any child could be, in this castle full of guards and with you and Vex looking after her.“ „She could be safer. There's always space for improvement.“ „So you're just gonna keep going like this? Staying awake all the time, always by her side until she's what, 18? You're going to damage yourself.“ „Better her than me.“ „Oh, enough with your cryptic drama!“ A pillow softly but pointedly hit the back of his head. „It's the middle of the night, Percival, we're sitting here in the cold instead of enjoying our beds because you've decided to be as neurotic as can be, the least you could do is talk to me.“

„What do you want to hear then, Keyleth? You want to me to bare my soul here? If so, you don't know me all that well.“ He almost snarled back before leaning down again. „You, of all people, should understand my fears.“ „Everyone's afraid of losing a loved one, especially a child.“ „Not everyone's lost so many and so vividly as we have.“ Keyleth was silent, but he could hear her swallow. „We've both seen the person we love most cold on the ground, haven't we? More than once. Is it so hard to understand my mindset, with such a fragile little thing as a baby...“ The sound of her sobbing made him sit up. He leaned over, pulled her into his arms and felt her warm tears on his neck. „Keyleth, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned-“ „No.“ She stubbornly sat up, her hands still on his arms, red eyes staring at him. „You're right, you're absolutely right. We've seen them die. I've watched him walk away... but that doesn't mean we have to be fearful for the rest of our lives.“ She swallowed. „I think it means the opposite, really.“ She shifted on the seat, sitting next to Percy and leaning her head against him. „What would it mean for his sacrifice if the people he loved weren't happy and safe now? That's all he ever wanted.“ „That's true.“ Was all he could muster to say. „And, and we're all his family. Vex said that, after... that's why I'm here, too, with you three. I want to keep you safe and happy. And I want to be safe and happy with you. With the people I love, with my family.“ He put an arm around her back and pulled her closer. „You are.“ „We're keeping each other safe. But we're also keeping each other happy. It's, it's a, a mutual thing. You can't just give and give and not get anything in return, Percy.“ He nodded. She was right again, of course, as she so often was when it came to her friend's well-being. „So please. Go to sleep and let me take care of Elaina. And I promise, if anything happens I'll wake you, trust me.“

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He slept for what felt like days. Not even Vex getting up next to him could wake him up, and she made very sure nothing else would either. When his eyes finally blinked open, the sun had already crept up high in the sky, shining bright through the bedroom windows, bathing everything in a golden shimmer. The same golden shimmer covered the floor of the play room, where he finally found company after getting dressed. Elaina, lying on a fur blanket and gleefully kicking her legs while Vex was on her knees, playing with her daughter's feet. Keyleth not far away from them, in yet another armchair, smiling with a bit of tiredness to her eyes, but content. He sat down on the armrest next to her, one hand on her shoulder.

„I've been thinking, dear, that we need to commission another painting.“ Vex looked up at him and almost groaned. „Another?“ She thought back to the many, many painting they'd already paid for – the official painting of them three for the gallery, the paintings of Elaina alone to send out to dignitaries and friends and family, the special request from Gilmore of a tiny group picture which he'd turn into a beautiful locket to surprise Vex with. „Another, dear. I really think the gallery would do well with a painting of Elaina with her aunt Kiki.“ He could feel Keyleth's hand reaching for his and squeezing it tight.

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#Perc'ahlia #Percy #Vex'ahlia #Critical Role #Crit Role #Vox Machina #Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III #Critrole Spoilers #Critical Role Spoilers #CR Spoilers #Keyleth #my writing #my fanfics

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exrpan · 7 years

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How I signed with my agent!

(I’m in the process of making some website changes, so cross-posting this to publicly archive it here! Originally posted on my blog on November 13, 2015.)

Over the years I've really appreciated the "How I Got My Agent" stories that other writers have posted, and so I wanted to share my own. The whole process of signing with an agent moved way more quickly than I anticipated. Here's how it happened:

When I reached the point where I believed my novel was ready enough to go out into the world, I sat down and looked at my list of all my dream agents. This was actually something I had been slowly compiling over the last few years in a giant Excel grid. I found it so much easier to just pay attention on a daily basis to who was making which deals and who represented which books/authors that I loved, rather than trying to do a whole chunk of overwhelming research at once.

The list of dream agents was not terribly long, but also not particularly short. I cut it down to what my first batch would look like by first eliminating agents I was friends/acquainted with. I was a little worried about an initial friendship complicating the professional relationship. And part of me wanted to prove that my work was strong enough to stand on its own -- I didn't want to get an offer of representation just because an agent already knew and liked me. I tightened my initial list further by looking to see who had worked with specific editors and imprints I admired.

It was the end of September / beginning of October when I began emailing the queries out. I sent them slowly and carefully and one at a time, to make sure I was really sharpening the individual messages and not making any typos or getting anyone's guidelines wrong. I started getting responses pretty quickly, and by the second week of October I had the full manuscript out with four agents.

Throughout October I continued sending queries here and there, until I had nine of them out in the world. There were a few agents who I really didn't expect to hear back from anytime soon for various reasons. For some of them, QueryTracker (a great tool for obsessive queriers) showed that they often didn't respond to initial queries for several months or even over a year. A couple others had closed to queries right as I'd sent mine out, and it sounded like they probably weren't going to get to me.

Jump to the last full week of October. That Thursday night, as I sat in Rite Aid waiting for my husband to get his flu shot, an email rolled in from an agent who had requested the full manuscript only about three weeks earlier. He'd told me it would take him nine or ten weeks to read, so my heart dropped. I was convinced it was a rejection. But no -- it turned out to be a wonderful message saying he'd loved the book and wanted to talk. I started crying right there next to the over-the-counter supplements.

My husband bought me celebratory rainbow cookies -- which if you know me well you know that I am a rainbow cookie FIEND -- and I couldn't even eat them. I was so overexcited my stomach was a pretzel and I didn't sleep at all.

So I talked to the agent that Friday morning. I had a great call, received my first offer of representation, and was pretty much a useless and glowing ball of excitement for the rest of the day. I emailed all the other agents I had contacted -- the ones who already had the full manuscript and the ones who had not yet replied to my queries. I immediately received requests for the full manuscript from all but one of the remaining agents.

The bizarre thing was going from weeks of radio silence to suddenly getting the play-by-play. Agents were emailing to tell me they were 8% in, or already at Part III, or on page 152. "That's publishing from the author side," my friend Melissa texted me. "Nothing happens until all of a sudden everything happens. Then you go back to nothing happening until your next spike of activity. It's maddening."

I ended up with three offers -- literally from the three people at the very top of my Dream Agent Grid!!!!!

Here was my query response breakdown:

8 out of 9 of the queries I sent had gotten me full manuscript requests.

3 out of those 8 offered representation outright.

2 of the agents who stepped aside sent wonderfully generous emails saying that they loved a lot but would want to make major revisions -- which were in fact changes I disagreed with. (One of these agents later sent the sweetest email expressing regret for passing, and then messaged me again with congratulations when I announced who I'd signed with. A lot of the agents out there really are the nicest humans!)

1 of the agents said that the book was great but she was turning me down because her client list was too full.

The other 2 agents sent the kindest emails telling me how much they loved in my book, but they were passing because it wasn't right for them, and they were excited to cheer me on from the sidelines.

I thought that would be interesting to share so that other querying writers out there can see: just because an agent says no to your book doesn't mean you're a failure!! There are a million ways in which someone might think what you've written is great and still not take you on as a client. (And this is not meant to be discouraging, though I realize the other side of that coin is that it sounds like a pretty bleak and impossible endeavor. But really, it's not. And anyway, you want to find the agent who is the best match for you -- the agent who has fallen so head over heels in love with your book that they want you as their client even under circumstances where they thought they wouldn't be taking on anyone new.)

I was seriously blown away by the responses. It was an embarrassment of riches, and I had a difficult decision to make. But talking to each of the three offering agents on the phone was really what helped me decide. I had a great rapport with them all, but there was one agent in particular who felt like an extension of my brain. He pinned down all the things most important to me. He seemed to understand my novel even better than I did. It was unreal -- he was truly The Dream Agent!

I slept on the decision, and then first thing in the morning on November 10th, I signed with Michael Bourret at Dystel & Goderich Literary Management. And since then it has been quite the celebratory week!

This was actually my third time querying. The first round was over a decade ago, when I was one of those obnoxious teenagers who thought I'd written the next Lord of the Rings. It was back when agents only really took snail mail queries, and most of the time it had to be a proprietary submission. I had to do the whole SASE (self-addressed stamped envelope) thing, and the manuscript had to be Courier font and to indicate italics you had to use underlines and to denote breaks you had to use the pound sign (or octothorpe, or whatever you want to call it; it certainly was not a "hashtag" back then). I remember my dad driving me to the post office -- because I couldn't even drive yet, that's how much of a baby I was -- to send out my next query packet every several months.

In 2013 I sent out a small batch of queries for the second time, and it was so weird how fast it was to just shoot out an email. I got so many full requests, and then just as many rejections. But I also got encouraging feedback. Agents generously sending editorial notes. Agents telling me to revise and resubmit. I felt like I was so close and yet still so far away. I tucked the novel in a drawer, planning to rework it after I got some distance, and wrote a new novel. And then revised a ton. And then wrote another novel. And revised a ton again. And here we are.

Third time's the charm and all that. But really, I'm so grateful to have had those rejections. I would not be the writer I am today without them. And this little bit of success would not taste so sweet if I hadn't before experienced that gut-wrenching disappointment, that feeling of failure, and that determination to start all over and try again.

8/3/16 -- Edited to add: I've written a "How to research and prepare for querying literary agents" blog post that might also be useful.

#agent #how I got my agent #literary agents #lit agents #michael bourret #writing #writing a novel #writers resources #dystel goderich and bourret #writer #writers #author #publishing advice #book publishing

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