#then I walked to where they filmed the great Gatsby

[cauliflowertree]

for a blurb u should do first date w jess mariano

:)

love me sweet—jess mariano.

summary: your first date with jess mariano.

word count: 0.6k

fanfic no. 009

the sun was beginning to set below the horizon as you walked through the quaint town of stars hollow, nervously fixing your hair and pulling down your jacket every few seconds. you stretched your neck out to see if jess had arrived yet, but could see nothing but faint shadows around the back of the poorly lit gazebo. but jess mariano watched you from a short distance, cowering where the light couldn’t touch, smiling softly, and wondering why you might be nervous to see him. he was nothing. you were everything.

he shook his head in disbelief as a small chuckle escaped his lips, slipping a book into his back pocket and pushing himself off the gazebo and into the light.

“hey there,” he greeted.

“hey,” you grinned, eyes brightening.

jess’ eyes raked over your figure, taking in the clothes you’d spent a long while choosing above all others. he didn’t say much, he never did, just a simple ‘you look good’ under his breath before he headed off. it was both endearing and satisfying.

“where are we going?” you asked, feet still planted into the damp grass below as you watched him march forward.

“you’ll see. come on, don’t you trust me?” he tilted his head with a mischievous smirk.

you hardly knew him, truth be told, but there was an inexplicable sense of safety you felt in his presence—an inclination you possessed that he would never lead you astray. but despite this, there was still a small part of you that felt as if you were free-falling with no access to a safe landing. but you were generally a good judge of character.

“i haven’t decided yet,” you hesitated. “trust is earned.”

“how am i supposed to earn it if you don’t take a leap of faith and trust me a little?” he cocked an eyebrow.

you suppressed a smile. “alright.”

as it so happens, jess had no plans at all as to where he was going to take you. he walked you through town, to the small bridge over the lake, past luke’s diner and then finally into the bookshop which was always open late of fridays. he simply valued your company and conversation.

neither of you bought anything, only browsed the shelves of limited titles the small store offered and pointed out which books you had read, which you desired to read, your favourites and the ones you hated beyond anything. jess laughed at your distaste for ‘the great gatsby’, how your face scrunched up in disgust.

on the way home, for jess insisted to walk you back, you exchanged book recommendations, music suggestions and talked of the films you should watch together in the little theatre in town. and when you reached the door to your house, jess tucked his chin into his chest as he looked down at your hands, cautiously reaching out to touch them.

“i had a nice time tonight,” you told him, wrapping your fingers around his.

“me too,” he nodded, still keeping his eyes away from yours.

you didn’t want to go inside, and jess didn’t want you to either, but you were both too anxious to make the first move. but after a moment, jess could feel the warmth leaving your fingertips, and he knew you couldn’t stay out there forever. he slipped his hands delicately up your arm until he reached your neck, which he caressed gently.

in spite of his feather light touches, the sting of his cool hands nipped at the warmth of your skin, but you hadn’t the heart to care. your heart was preoccupied, perhaps indefinitely.

his lips reached yours tentatively, sweetly, flowing into open-mouthed kisses after a few seconds to find your shared rhythm. he was perfection.

#jess mariano x reader #jess mariano x you #jess mariano x y/n #jess mariano x gn!reader #jess mariano fanfiction #jess mariano fic #jess mariano fluff #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano one shot #jess mariano #gilmore girls #gilmore girls fic #gilmore girls fanfiction #lorelai gilmore #luke danes #stars hollow #netflix fanfic

[renova-writes]

the way you look tonight

a rainy day in new york inspired work

gatsby wells x reader

word count: 649 (short and sweet)

warnings: no warnings needed

a/n: I was watching a rainy day in new york for the first time tonight after rehearsal and I think this film changed my outlook on many things

masterlist

“Tabbie? Is that you? What’s wrong?” He entered the kitchen where you were cutting vegetables. He didn’t go over to give you a kiss like you were accustomed to, instead he kicked the trash can.

“I don’t know.” He ran his hand through his hair. “It’s possible I guess.”

“What’s possible? Use your words.”

“That, that I left my wallet on the subway!”

“How- Why would you leave your wallet on the subway?”

“I don’t know! That’s not like me. I don’t forget things!”

“Well you did today Gatsby.”

“Gatsby. God woman, why do you insist on calling me Gatsby?”

“God, why do you call me ‘woman’! For christ's sake Gatsby you left your wallet on the subway. No big deal. Just call, cancel your cards, and get a new one. People lose wallets all the time.”

“Yes but not Gatsby Welles! I don't forget things.”

“For heaven's sake Tabbie, relax! Sit down, have a glass of wine. Let’s go out to Le Corbeau tonight, like we used to. We can sit in one of those leather couches in the back with the cigarette ashes and listen to the piano while we gaze into each other’s eyes. Doesn’t that sound nice.”

His eyebrows lowered down from his face and his cheeks began to glow. Here came the Gatsby humor you were well acquainted with. “But you're forgetting something darling: I don’t have my wallet.”

“You might be a successful businessman, but don’t you forget: I was successful too.”

“Oh, how could I forget? With a voice like that? Darling you were an angel. Listening to you sing was like seeing light for the first time. I fell in love before I even spoke a word to you.” He moved in to engulf you in his arms, pulling you in from behind.

“You tell me this every day.”

“And good for you to remember it. I don’t deserve you my love. I could live a thousand lives and never come close to your purity.”

“My love you need look only in the mirror.”

“You flatter me.”

“You flatter yourself.”

“I know you didn’t mean that my bird.”

“If I am a bird then your arms are my cage and yet I sit content within.”

“I have a better idea. Why don’t we take a walk in the park? The city is so beautiful in the rain.”

“So long as we can stop underneath the clock tower and dance to its song.” You pressed your lips gently onto his.

“Will you sing for me?”

You sat down at the piano in the great room. You stretched your fingers before letting them dance over the keys.

Someday, when I'm awfully low, When the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you, And the way you look tonight

Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm, And your cheeks so soft, There is nothing for me but to love you, And the way you look tonight

With each word your tenderness grows, Tearin' my fear apart, And that laugh wrinkles your nose, Touches my foolish heart

Lovely, never, never change, Keep that breathless charm, Won't you please arrange it?, 'Cause I love you, A-just the way you look tonight

And that laugh that wrinkles your nose, It touches my foolish heart

Lovely, don't you ever change, Keep that breathless charm, Won't you please arrange it?, 'Cause I love you, A-just the way you look tonight

Mm-mm, mm-mm, Just the way you look tonight

Gatsby had joined you at the piano bench while you played. He said nothing during the course of your performance but at its close, he lifted your hand from its ending note and brought it to his lips. “Darling, oh my darling, it’s you who looks beautiful.”

#gatsby welles #gatsby welles x reader #a rainy day in new york #timothee chamalet #timothee fanfic #timothee x you #paul atreides #timothee x y/n #timothee hot #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee edit #timothee x reader #timothee imagine #timothee blurb #timothee photoshoot #timothee icons #timothee aesthetic #timothee fluff #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet icons #timothee smut #gatsby #timothee chalamet characters #timmy t

[takecareluv]

as a jackman harlow request (hehe i'm excited):

jack meeting reader at a pub in london while he's out exploring the city by himself at night. he's on a solo trip and choosing to go out at a late hour to escape potential fans hounding him and because he wants to be alone and see what it's like to be a "normal" tourist in a famous city. he's hesitant at first when reader approaches and strikes up conversation with him, but relaxes when he realizes reader does not know him. the two of them talk over fries and beer, talking until the sun is up, at which point they leave the bar. jack gives the reader his jacket or hoodie as they walk down the empty streets in the chill of the morning, eventually parting ways. jack tells the reader to keep the jacket or hoodie, thanking for the amazing night.

i'm sorry if this was too specific, but for some reasonw when you posted about jack being in london right now my mind immediately conjured up this scenario. regardless, i know if you choose to use this as a scenario you'll make it into something beautiful, as always <3

a.n. liv this is amazing. don’t apologize for it being too specific, it was perfect. you always come up with the best ideas, i swear !!! thank you for sending this <3 also how did you know i’ve been wanting to write something based in london ??? I’m so excited but nervous about this - my first jack fic !! ah i hope you guys like it mwah!

love in london || jack harlow x reader

jack thought it was a blessing to have the opportunity to travel the world like he did. getting to see so many countries in such a short amount of time, visiting places people only wished of seeing. it was all great, but the one thing he felt he missed out on through all of his journeys, was exploring these beautiful cities like a true tourist. being able to walk down the street without hearing whispers and the clicks of cameras around him.

he always felt he stood out more when he had his whole entourage with him. it was hard to stay lowkey when you had a big group plus a security guard following you around everywhere.

so when he landed in london all by his lonesome, he was a little more excited, ready to sneak around the city without cameras being shoved in his face like never before.

* ࣪. ⋆ ✧ ﾟ: * ♡ * : ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪ ♡ ࣪.* ࣪ ⋆ ✧ ﾟ: * ♡ * : ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.*

several hours later and he just wrapped up a meeting with some executives about expanding his upcoming tour to the united kingdom.

he made the mistake of not eating before hand and was now in desperate need for a quick bite to eat, although unsure of where to go at this time of night.

that’s when he noticed a dim light coming from a tiny pub down the road, immediately making long strides towards the quaint spot.

upon entering, he noticed he was practically alone in the joint, besides the two old guys in the corner arguing over whatever game was on and, of course, the man behind the bar. it was perfect, he thought to himself. no one to film him or ask a million intruding questions.

he took a seat at the empty bar, quickly ordering fish and chips, along with a guinness, deciding to treat himself and go all out with the british meal.

and with quiet moments like this being as far and few between, jack decided to take advantage of it and pull out his current read, the great gatsby.

he read quietly for a few minutes, munching on some day-old peanuts, before he heard the seat beside him shift, followed by a soft whisper. “i’ll have a shandy, please. oh and an order of chips as well. thanks.”

it was quiet again for a moment before the soft voice that jack already found himself fascinated by, spoke up once more. “are the fries as good as they say?” he heard you giggle. a giggle he was already in love with.

“they alright. probably been sitting out all day though.” he answered hesitantly, always nervous he was about to get asked for something, with the person knowing who he was.

however, the conversation continued and you began discussing the book jack had closed in front of him. jack relaxed, easing himself into the flow he had with you since you started talking. he realized you had no idea who he was and was now excited to just have a normal conversation with a stranger. although he wasn’t sure he wanted you to be a stranger any longer.

* ࣪. ⋆ ✧ ﾟ: * ♡ * : ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪ ♡ ࣪.* ࣪ ⋆ ✧ ﾟ: * ♡ * : ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.*

unbeknownst to you, hours had gone by since you first sparked a conversation with the cute guy you had yet to know the name of.

in that time, you had ordered two more pints of beer and a second basket of fries before the sun started to rise and the bartender was walking over to you with a bill in his hand. “alright, lovebirds, night’s over. i gotta close up.”

you reached down to pull out your wallet from the small purse resting by your feet, but jack quickly stopped you. “don’t worry about it, i got it.”

“are you sure? i feel bad, i don’t even know your name.” you babbled.

“the name’s jack. now will you let me pay for you?” he responded confidently.

you laughed, “i’m guessing you’re not going to take no for an answer.”

“nope,” jack basically cut you off.

“well fine. thank you, jack. i owe you one.” you replied, sounding defeated. although jack didn’t notice, he was to busy focusing on your insinuation that this wasn’t a one time thing, which made him smile to himself.

he handed the impatient bartender a one hundred pound note, telling him to “keep the change” before grabbing your hand and walking out of the pub.

“i’ll walk you home,” he whispered.

“no, jack, it’s okay. you don’t have to do that. i don’t want you to have to go even further out of your way, you should get some rest anyway.” you tried to reason with him, but you already knew he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“i’m not letting you walk alone at this time. now c’mon, you lead the way.”

you smiled at how genuinely sweet he was, especially with someone he barely knew for that matter. you squeezed his hand once more while guiding him in the direction of your apartment.

you only made it around the corner before jack noticed you were shivering. he was quick to stop in his tracks, pulling his jacket off his body, and delicately placing it on your shorter frame.

it basically swallowed you whole and jack thought that was most adorable thing.

you smiled up at him, getting lost in those baby blues, mumbling a soft “thank you”.

you walked in a comfortable silence for the remainder of the journey, hands still intertwined, before you came to pause in front of the entrance to your apartment complex.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t consider circling the block a few times just to get some extra minutes with the man next to you.

“well this is me,” you attempted to hide the sadness in your voice, although it didn’t really work too well, jack was quick to notice the pout that fell onto your lips.

you shrugged off the jacket that was three sizes too big on you and smelt heavenly of his expensive cologne. in other words, the comfiest jacket you had ever worn, attempting to hand it back to the boy.

“no, no. you keep it. i’ll just get it back from you next time i see you.” jack said, pushing the jacket back towards you.

“next time?” you questioned, confused but smiley.

“yeah, you didn’t think i’d let you get away that easy, did you?” jack remarked with a smirk on his face. “have a good night, y/n. i’ll see you soon,” he winked, walking away from you.

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x you #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fic #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow blurb #meg writes : ♡₊˚𓂃⠀◟

[mamirhodessxox]

By the dock

1920’s!Leon x 1920’s!Reader

Description: Leon & Reader have a 5 year long history. But unfortunately separated. The two ended up on the richest sides of New York City, The reader wedded into an unhappy marriage on the east egg & Leon trying to get his 1 and only love back while living on the West Egg.

Content: Smut?? (Love making), Great Gatsby storyline/party, Alcohol, Smoking, Foul language, Fluff, Angst??, Reader & Leon falling in absolute love all over again, Mentions of domestic violence, Cheating but it’s justified for the reader.

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) Votes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

It was the roaring 20’s everything in new york was covered in parties, music, alcohol, and money. Something Leon loved VERY much. Money & alcohol, but the one thing he loved more was You. He looked at you as if you were s goddess that walked among the world, your voice sounded like honey to him, your skin was so smooth & soft, the perfume you wore everyday smelt rich, it was a raspberry mixture but it wasn’t obnoxious, it was a subtle scent. The way you dressed so elegantly but flashy always impressed him.

He knew you 5 years ago as his one and only true love, he ended up going to fight in the war but you had thought he died, though you still had so much love for him you had to move on, so you ended up wedding with a man who was selfish, careless, sometimes even cruel. Leon had moved into this large mansion across from yours in the west egg. Almost every night he would stand by the dock and stare directly at it & reach his hand out.

Hell even when your close cousin Janice came into town & got a little cottage nearby his mansion he would communicate to her about his feelings towards you. Tonight he held an extravagant party

Music was blasting through the entire mansion, fireworks were going off people were cheering screaming shouting and yet Leon was no where to be found. It was strange. How could a man throw a party and not attend it? Janice had made you take a break from hiding away in that house of yours & took you to the party with her. You were in a black flashy flapper dress & noticed that half of the people that attended this party were random people showing up from new york city. Film directors, models, musicians. Hell the entire city of new york itself was in this mansion. It was insane.

Glitter hit your hair & skin as the party got crazier & crazier. You had no idea what to do with yourself it was almost terrifying. But to your comfort Janice approached you with drinks and a excited smile while shouting through the obnoxious sounds invading this singular house and honestly. You didn’t know Leon was the owner nor party host.

“Having fun darling!” You smile at Janice as she gave you a drink and sat right next to you near the water fountain where people were splashing in like heathens “This party is definitely something! Say who’s hosting? Some old rich fat man I presume?” The way you spoke was so elegant & rich. “No idea Dear! Just noticed that there was something crazy happening over here from all the way at your house! Thought you could use the break! Live a little!” She shouted while placing a random feathery headband atop your head “Only the best of the best come to these parties within this House.” You smiled lightly as you looked around. “I’m going to step out towards the dock for some fresh air! Getting a little claustrophobic in here!” You lightly laugh before getting up and walking off, your heels pattered against the ground and eventually onto the wooden dock causing a slight echo.

You leaned against the wooden fence looking around at the water & stared at the wavy movement’s of the water admiring the ambience. You heard heavy footsteps but ignored them, you felt someone else’s presence close to you but you were just a little too tired to notice. “It’s a nice evening tonight isn’t it Darling?” You turned tour head & ended up face to face with your past lover, Leon. “You stopped writing to me? Why’s that?” He furrowed his brows as you spoke to him in a straight forward manner. “Well dear, You were a newly wedded woman.” It was true. And he wasn’t wrong.

For the rest of the night the two of you would walk around speaking, sneaking off to the garden & spending quality time together. For weeks on end you would visit him at the manor in multiple different styled flapper dresses. When he had hosted another party your husband ended up accompanying you & Janice. You wore a large Boa around your shoulders as you walked down the glimmering stairs while Leon gave your husband the tour, soon you were sat somewhere admiring a jazz band & your husband would make snide comments towards Leon. So he got sick of it & eventually stood up “Would you mind terribly sir?” He gestured to you & your husband sighed before giving you the allowance of dancing with Leon. You smiled shortly & got up taking Leons hand & walking towards the dance floor

“This is such an exciting party Leon.” You admired as his hand was twined with yours & the other around your waist while swaying back and forth side to side. “I’m glad you think so doll.” You two danced for awhile until Leon took noticed your husband had walked off somewhere so, he snuck you both off into the garden. “Had you been reminded that you look stunning today darling?” You smile with love across your face “Just you.” He Hummed & placed his hand on your cheek with soft strokes before feeling his plush smooth lips on-top of yours, his arms wrapped around your waist as you stood up against a tree “oh Leon..” you mutter out before digging your fingers into his hair until Janice so rudely interrupted “Y/N darling? Your husband’s searching for you.” Leon sighed and pulled away ever so carefully as if you were a delicate flower petal.

Since that night an affair between you two sprang, you would often find yourself standing on the dock with Leon wrapping his arms around yours while you two stared at your manor “I wish i could never leave here my love..it’s where it’s the most calm.” You hummed as Leon nuzzled his lips against your neck “What if I told you that you didn’t have to go home my dear?” You heard his offer and smiled softly “Would you like to know what I said when I finally had my daughter?” You muttered out & grazed your hand against his hand “Hm?” He replied, you stroked his suit softly before voicing your small story “I said, I'm glad it's a girl. And I hope she'll be a fool that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool. Did you know my husband has had an affair behind my back? During all of this, the wedding, my birthing, everything. And to make it worse is, some nights after visiting the slums he would often neglect our daughter & slap on me.” Leon frowned “What if I sent out an anonymous report for those things darling hm? Abuse. Child Neglect, what do you think sweetness?”

You looked up at him before turning around & with a flushed smiled displayed across your face while your hands moved up against his chest where you felt the material of his suit. He smiled charmingly while he lifted you just enough to where you two could kiss he ran his fingers up the back of your neck and into your hair lightly grazing the satin scarf you wore as a headband, somehow you hand ended away from the dock but into his bedroom that overlooked the lake he lived across. You were sprawled out into his bed as you kissed each other passionately & lovingly, you were both ridded of your clothes wrapped around each other, You two had gotten straight to the point the moment your head hit the pillows, his thrusts weren’t rough or slow, infact that were just right.

He didn’t get sloppy or harsh, he was at just the right pace for you to still feel the most pleasure that you haven’t felt once you were wedded, a soft moan slipped past your lips while your fingers ran down his back leaving plenty of scratch marks while your legs wrapped around his hips. Leon quickened his pace when he felt his cock start to twitch in which he let out a quiet groan right next to your ear, his body was placed right ontop of yours making you feel some pressure but it was still pleasurable in all the right ways “doing so good f’me sweet thing.” He would speak loving affirmations into your ear before running his hand through your hair & kissing you before moving faster & faster.

The way he would plunge into you without any sort of roughness made you feel ecstatic. You would let out high pitched moans so often as you felt close to your orgasm & he knew it, he snapped his hips into you making you take a sharp breath as his thrusts became sloppy but in a way where he was still making love to you. He smushed his lips against yours one last time & that itself caused you to cum & make a mess & so did Leon, he didn’t have any time to pull out so he had came inside of you but even then you didn’t mind.

He breathed heavily in your ear before holding you close to him while you came down from your high, he had yet to pull out but for some odd reason it was still comforting “You here with me dear?” You were snapped back into reality & smiled tiredly up at him “yeah ‘m here Lee, just, thinkin’ that’s all” he hummed at your response and pressed a soft kiss into your cheek as you both laid there wrapped up in each others comfort.

A week later you two decided that he would come over for lunch where you, your husband & janice would sit as you & leon reveal your love affair and alert him you would be leaving him and taking your daughter with, but what you didn’t know is Leon had set up a deal with the police that around a certain time during lunch they were to practically raid the manor just to arrest your Husband.

It was a hot very hot miserable day within the summer, You & Janice were sat at the table smoking a cigarette and immediately you heard Leons foot steps approaching the dining room. You felt his hand sit on your bare shoulder as your husband glanced out of the window, “y’know they say that the sun gets hotter each yea-actually. No. Forgive me I meant the sun gets colder each year, can you believe that?” You heard Leon scoff causing your husband to turn around. And he immediately knew what was happening between the two of you

“So, your the man who’s been making love to my wife in god knows where?” Leon chuckled while you became upset and started running your mouth about the situation faster than Leon had planned “Yes he is, and I’m leaving you and taking D/N with me since he seems to know how to treat a woman and a child with more class than you could.” You spat at him causing Leon to choke up on the water he took a sip of as Janice gasped fakely and took a hit of her cigar “He couldn’t possibly love you the way I do Y/N, all the pearls I gave you? The glitz, the glamour.” Leon rolled his sleeves up as you fanned yourself from the heat “Your wrong see, Slapping your wife around and neglecting tour little girl and repaying them with fake luxury while also involving yourself in many sexual affairs is not love.” Leon addressed, your husband soon became irritated and paced towards you to attempt on slapping you causing Janice to shriek in concern but Leon pulled you out of the chair and made you stand behind him

“Yet she can be involved with some love affair with y-“ “To make it FAIR!” You shouted before throwing a glass cup at him as you became flustered with irritation, at that moment you saw a bunch of policemen hustle into the room and grab your soon to be ex husband and put him in metal clasps while you heard them explain to him the reasoning behind his arrest, he was shouting, yelling and running a muck while being shoveled out of the house, Janice cleared her throat and dusted off her dress “That was quite theatrical.” Leon hummed and ran his hands down your arm while muttering in your ear “I had your maids bring down D/N with hers and your belongings so we could quickly move into my manor & get you settled” you smiled in comfort nodding

You walked over towards the window & watched as your now ex lover was causing trouble for police men but Leon approached you from behind holding your arms as carefully as possible. Janice was in the entrance of the manor adjusting D/N’s outfit before clearing her throat and approaching you two “Shall we get you settled in & ready for dinner?”

You looked in her direction and back at Leon before smiling and picking up your daughter “Well I don’t see why not.” You chirped out before walking out of the manor with Leon & Janice following behind.

You were finally set free and with the man who you knew was your soulmate for the rest of your life that you could begin a family with and have your child view him as her father.

xtripleiiix’s Masterlist

A/N: OKAY so it’s not the beat work i’ve written but i’m really hyper-fixating on Leon & The Great Gatsby so i wanted to write smth that involved that storyline in someway, I really tried to make it seem like it was the 1920’s but yeah, I hope you guys enjoyed!! <3 feel free to list your opinions in the comments!

🏷️ list: @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @valkyrurx @agent-dessis-posts @adollonyourshelf @puppy-princ3ss

[moviesessionwithmyhubby]

Atonement: what if it's too late?

I recall a time during my third year of university when I was tasked with writing an essay on either a movie or a book. I honestly don't recall all the options I had at that time, but for books, I had the choice between "Norwegian Wood" and "The Great Gatsby." As for movies, I could choose either "Meet Joe Black" or "Atonement." In the end, I decided to go with Meet Joe Black. However, I made sure to read all the books and watch all the movies. It's evident that they are all of high quality. Nevertheless, after viewing Atonement, I experienced an indescribable sense of profound sadness. I have never watched that movie again, perhaps because I still find it difficult to handle the emotions it evokes.

I often tell my husband my belief in the concept of second chances. I firmly believe that everyone deserves an opportunity to make amends for their past actions, and that it is never too late to rectify mistakes or pursue new endeavors, like I always tell myself that “Hey Huong, it’s never too late to learn French, let’s do it! Or It’s never too late to exercise at the gym!”.  But now, upon reflecting on the film Atonement, I have come to the realization that there are situations or individuals who reach a point of no return, where they are unable to rectify their actions, or make amends.

On her fourteenth birthday during the summer, young noble Briony Tallis (played by Saoirse Ronan), a young ambitious writer, gazes out of the window and catches sight of her sister Cecilia (portrayed by Keira Knightley). Cecilia, a recent graduate from Cambridge University, is walking out of the bath in the courtyard. Her clothes cling to her body, revealing their transparency, while she captures the attention of Robbie Turner (played by James McAvoy), son of a housekeeper who worked for the Tallis family for 20 years and also a friend of Cecillia who is studying at Cambridge University. At that time, Briony had a sense that Robbie had feelings for his sister. Overwhelmed by Cecillia's captivating presence, Robbie hastily penned a brief letter to apologize for what happened the other day, he wrote so many drafts but regrettably, he inadvertently placed the letter filled with flirtatious and seductive words, intending to send it to Tallis, instead of sending a more suitable one.

By a twist of fate, the letter found its way into Briony's hands. Upon reading its contents, she accused Robbie of being a pervert and promptly shared the information with her cousin Lola. Then that day, at the fateful party, Briony unintentionally stumbles upon Robbie and Cecilia in the library, precisely at the moment when they are confessing their feelings for one another. And during the dinner, Lola’s twin brothers go missing. While everyone else searches for them, Briony ventures into the woods alone to look for them.That is when she saw that Lola was sexually assaulted by an unidentified man. Briony made a direct accusation against Robbie, claiming that she witnessed him being the rapist, stating, "I saw him with my own eyes!" Lola, unable to see the rapist's face, also suspects Robbie as the perpetrator due to the impression and assumption that he is a pervert, based on the inappropriate letter he wrote to the Tallis family. After searching for Lola's twin brothers, Robbie made his way back to Tallis's house. However, as soon as he arrived, he found himself apprehended by the police, with Cecillia's broken gaze. 

Subsequently, in an effort to atone for her errors involving her sister and Robbie, Briony chose to pursue a career as a nurse in the army, opting out of attending Cambridge. Briony also wrote a book called Atonement, where Cecilia and Robbie find happiness in their life together.

However, it is now too late. Ever since Briony falsely accused Robbie of a crime, she set in motion a series of events that would ultimately lead to the unraveling of her sister's life, as well as Robbie and Lola's. This downward spiral continued until everything fell apart at the bottom, with no possibility of returning to where it all began. As a prospective student, Robbie finds himself burdened with guilt that he did not commit, and he must come to terms with the fact that he has to become a soldier, which means being separated from his lover and abandoning his initial dreams. Cecillia's faith in her family waned, leading her to stop communication with her sister. Additionally, she made the decision to enlist in the army as a nurse. And Lola, sadly, made the decision to marry the person who had previously raped her.

When I watched this movie six years ago, I couldn't comprehend how a 14-year-old child could exhibit such cruelty, effortlessly lying and causing immense harm to the lives of the people she holds dear. I believe that Briony does not view Robbie as a pervert; rather, she harbors feelings of love for him. However, due to Robbie's affection for her sister, Briony experiences feelings of jealousy. She doesn't want them to be together, so she intends to sabotage their relationship by tarnishing Robbie's image in her sister's eyes. She believes that by doing so, she can prevent him from being with her sister. 

For me, the portrayal of Briony is one of the captivating aspects of Atonement, owing to the intricate nature of her actions and thoughts. In my opinion, this character is impressed by the author's exploration of a fundamental human nature: the inherent capacity for wrongdoing or selfish action in every individual. Doesn't it sound strange? It is often said that humans are born with kindness and have an inherent capacity for goodness. Would you agree with this perspective? I did back then. I still do now but gradually, I am beginning to believe that some individuals are inherently evil and selfish, some people are just narcissists and abusive, whether they choose to reveal or suppress it. And Briony was lying without a blink of an eye to destroy Robie’s life. Who would suspect that a 14-year-old child, especially a nice and cute girl, could falsely accuse someone else? However, it appears that a child is capable of exhibiting such cruelty and evilness. Perhaps, it is due to their young age that they fail to comprehend the repercussions of the abhorrent actions resulting from their immaturity. And when they grow older, more mature, wiser, it becomes too late for them to heal or fix certain things.

It’s too late for Robie, Cecilia, Lola and even Briony. But how about us? Do we wait until it’s too late to fix things? I believe that none of us wants to be burdened by the word "regret" in our lives. However, there are times when we find ourselves unsure of how to rectify things, where to begin, how to set aside our ego, and how to effectively communicate our emotions in order to find solutions to our problems.

I personally don't want to live a life of regret. My spouse frequently says that one of my positive qualities is that I don't wait until it's too late to fix things; when I realize I've done something stupid, I attempt to rectify it right away. I send adorable photos of myself wearing a cat ear headband, sometimes with clothes and sometimes without haha. And surprisingly, these pictures have a magical effect on him, instantly improving his mood. I am just joking, cute photos don’t solve the problems, girls lol. I used to struggle with effectively communicating my feelings and emotions. While I still have room for improvement, I am gradually becoming more skilled in this area. Whenever something happens, I have a tendency to become silent because I immediately start crying as soon as I try to speak and it becomes challenging for me to articulate the reasons behind my emotional response. Hence, I just go silent. But gradually, I have come to realize that if I do not communicate my thoughts and feelings to my husband, he will not be able to comprehend what is happening within me. It is through speaking and expressing myself that he can truly understand me. Because as humans, we have a tendency to make assumptions. Similar to Lola in Atonement, she mistakenly believed that Robbie was the one who assaulted her due to her negative feelings towards him following the story she heard from Briony involving his flirtatious letter. And sadly, she eventually married the man who was truly responsible for the assault. For me and my husband, sometimes, I assume that my husband understands why I get upset, or that he understands Vietnamese culture as if he is Vietnamese lol. Similarly, he may assume that I understand why he acts in a monkey way. And then we became frustrated when it became apparent that each person didn't understand anything. It’s clearly that without communication, we would never be able to know or fully comprehend things. 

But thank God, me and my husband are always able to communicate, and for that, we should be grateful.

[vampire-himbos-of-santa-perdita]

What inspired you to create your main character?

Heaven's Tiny Daggers - This one's about grieving after that one band you loved as a teenager breaks up. Finn Begby's kinda this conduit for those emotions that I had to exorcise from myself years after My Chemical Romance broke up, having never really processed it. She deals with a similar (but much more intense!) trauma and then she takes it and creates something from it. For her, it's music. For me, it's novels. It's very how do you find closure when you're mourning something that isn't a death, but was a huge part of you nonetheless? You immortalize it in your art, of course!

Regardless 2.0 - Marnie Marsette is my OG original character I wrote when I was a teenager. I polished her novel up and sent it out to query a few years ago and got no joy (she was too generic for agents...), so this is a completely different plot with Marnie at the helm. This one's a bit of an ode to early 2000s teen dramas like Veronica Mars, The OC, and Buffy, as I'm from San Diego, where many of their episodes were filmed. In her latest iteration, I wanted Marnie to have that prickly, moody action heroine solving mysteries vibe (she's Veronica, she's Buffy, she's Marissa!). Regardless is kind of this interesting conversation between my teen self and my adult self, so she's experiencing this cusp of adulthood sexual awakening where she's attracted to the thing that scares her most (very Sarah from Labyrinth but if David Bowie were a hot mortician with a dark past). She thinks she's the protagonist in this edgy California noir, when really she's been tossed headfirst into a silly vampire beach party narrative. There's a lot of transformative things going on with Marnie with this draft, reconciling with who she was and who she could be. Metaphors for old and new drafts!

Vampire Gatsby - This one's still cooking, but it's a thinly veiled excuse to mess around with Lady Gaga's subplot in American Horror Story: Hotel. I wanted a story about an alluring vampire couple in a sprawling mansion (like Hearst Castle!) who turns a young ingenue and walks her through her transition. I get tired of vampire narratives where the protagonist gets turned and immediately wants to be destroyed before the evil consumes her (looking at you, Penny Dreadful!). So Lena Harlow may or may not be seduced by the darkness. The basis for Lena's character also asks the Great Gatsby question "what would happen to Myrtle if after Daisy hit her with her car, she got revived by vampires?" ...except if she showed up in Hollywood as F. Scott Fitzgerald had portrayed it in The Love of the Last Tycoon before he died. Old Hollywood vampire things!

#am writing #present and future works #Heaven's Tiny Daggers #girl punk novel #Regardless 2.0 #vampire himbo novel #Vampire Gatsby #ask games #Sophie writes

[darling-i-read-it]

Theatrics

Jay Gatsby x reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: drinking, men coming onto the reader

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for requesting for Gatsby! No one ever requests for him so this was very fun to do. I hope you enjoy love!

Requested: by anon, Hi I’m new and I just recently got super into the great Gatsby I was hoping you could please do a Jay Gatsby (fanfic maybe) (2013 film) about him and his wife maybe where Jay hosts a party and someone tries flirting with the wife in front of Gatsby he doesn’t know they are married but Jay just kinda reacts if really appreciate it I have trouble finding Jay Gatsby 2013 stories so I’d love seeing it and I saw your previous stories and such you did on him your a fantastic writer!! (Maybe he was just smiles for a little knowing it was ridiculous than as it was clear he wasn’t going to be got more and more mad like he did at Tom during the hotel scene Oof-) (it so could be Tom and he gets really mad like bro you already had Daisy now you want my wife nah haha)

Summary: the request

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

The party was about to start. You loved it when Jay threw parties. You knew that people would come to gossip and everyone in West Egg enjoyed a good Gatsby party. Maybe you just liked being the center of attention. Maybe you liked it when Jay was.

Whatever the reason was, you were pleased to find everything in place for your final preparations. People would start filling in soon in droves. You passed each other waiters carefully checking all of the plates they were holding. They made quick small talk as you passed, making sure everything was alright.

You heard a loud clap and everyone stopped moving.

Your eyes all went up to the staircase where Jay was standing, a grand smile on his face.

“My dear?!” he called.

“Yes?” you called back to him. He met your eyes from the distance, his smile widening.

“Open up the doors!”

You nodded and turned around to the waiters, gesturing for each of them to get the doors. You opened up the main one and people were already waiting.

You stood by the door as they came in, saying hello to those you knew and eavesdropping on those you didn’t. Before you knew it the room was completely filled to the brim with people. Drinks and food were being handed out. You had lost Jay to the crowd which was expected. You often found each other near the end of the night anyway.

“Y/N?” a man called. You turned, your lips upturned in a rehearsed smile.

“Nick! Hello dear, how are you? I thought you weren’t going to be able to make it,” you said, rushing over to your neighbor.

“I was able to afterall. Do you know where Gatsby is? Jay, I mean,” he said sheepishly. You shook your head.

“Sorry, I don’t. I’m sure he’s bound to turn up somewhere, sloshing some sort of drink around.” He nodded in agreement. “Try to enjoy yourself. There’s plenty of food if you want. Perhaps you can even find a nice person to go home with.” He shook his head laughing.

“I think I’ll have to find the food.” You nodded and patted him on the back.

“Then I will see you later. Have fun!” You walked past him further into the crowd. You loved these parties. You loved that barely anyone there knew that you lived there. Often people would whisper about Mr and Mrs Gatsby, the infamous party throwers and how people rarely had ever met the two of you.

You preferred to remain an idea.

You grabbed a champagne glass from one of the waiters and sat down in one of the free spots on the couches. You happened to be right next to a man you had never met before. You didn’t spare him more than a glance but you could feel his gaze on you as you took a drink of your champagne.

“Do you frequent these parties?” he asked you. You looked over at him and gave him the ‘who me?’ look before answering.

“No, can’t say that I do,” you said. You liked your identity as an idea, why not keep it that way? Plus, you had to have a little fun at these parties if you wanted to keep them going.

“You’re gorgeous, I think I would remember you,” he said, leaning against the couch. You smiled politely.

“Thank you.”

“Isn’t this house beautiful? I hear the couple that lives here is even more so. I mean, not nearly as beautiful as you though.” You held back a scoff.

“Yes it’s a wonderful house.”

“So what’s your name? Did you come with someone?”

“Actually yes, I did.”

“Oh well you don’t have to leave with them,” he said leaning into you. His breath stunk of alcohol. You stood up slowly.

“Thank you but I’m truly alright,” you told him as kindly as you could muster. He stood up too. You were trying to figure out how you were going to get out of this hole you had dug yourself when you felt a hand on the small of your back. You turned swiftly to find Jay standing beside you. “There you are,” you said happily.

“Who’s this?” he asked stiffly. The man extended his hand.

“Daniel.” Jay didn’t shake it and Daniel let his hand drop awkwardly. “You are?”

“Jay Gatsby. This, old chap, is my wife you were speaking with.” You could feel his light tension but didn't imagine that he would get into too much of a fight.

“Oh!” Daniel said, suddenly very embarrassed. “My apologies, I didn't know.” You gave him a curt nod.

“Clearly,” Jay said. “I was about to get something from the kitchen if you would like to join me,” he said to you. You nodded pleasantly.

“Lead the way darling.”

The two of you left the man in the dust as you weaved through the crowd to the bustling kitchen. Waiters came and went but it was big enough to where you were able to get a moment of peace there. The guests greatly outnumbered the waiters.

“Nick was looking for you,” you said.

“Everyone is looking for me dear,” he said, leaning against the wall. “We’re the Gatsbys.” You nodded slowly, looking at him.

“I was about to tell him that you know.”

“Oh I know. But I wanted to make sure you got lost in the crowd before he could find you again.”

“After your clear intimidation, I don’t think he will go looking again,” you promised, grabbing his hand. You kissed the back of his hand gently and he brought his other hand to his cheek.

“I am known for my theatrics.”

“You don’t have to tell me that darling.”

#jay gatsby x reader #jay gatsby imagines

[maki-matsurra]

Brain x Reader oneshot where Brain takes Reader on a date to see a movie they’ve been wanting to see. Brain’s all like, “This is gonna be so romantic” because he thinks they picked out a cheesy rom-con or a Disney movie or something. Then they get in and Reader chose a super terrifying Horror movie. Maybe Reader has to comfort him after/during the movie? Idk i just think that’d be cute ☺️

Awwww! That sounds so super cute!

And hey! Cheers to my first ever PATB oneshot! Just in time for Valentine’s Day!🥂

Also, I made the reader a mouse so it would seem less… awkward for Brain to be dating a human, as well as some alterations, so I hope that’s okay!

Enjoy!

Want to send in a request? Start Here!

Finally it was just going to be the two of you tonight.

Pinky was out visiting some kind of cheese convention, so he would be gone for the whole weekend, leaving Brain and (Y/N) alone for movie night!

He was waiting for your arrival, excited to see what romantic movie you had picked out for their special evening.

Maybe it’s A Star Is Born? He liked the music from that movie.

Or perhaps it was Wall-E?

Or maybe even The Great Gatsby!

He almost ran towards the acme lab door once he heard you knock, swinging it open, you held a smile and you lifted up the large DVD case; “Hey! I brought The Visit!”

He froze at that.

You brought a horror movie.

A… horror movie… to your movie date night with him.

“Brain…? Is everything okay?” You tilted your head, a worried look on your face, he quickly shook his head and cleared his throat. “But of course! Please, come in… we can uhm… watch the movie on the desk. I took it upon myself to add some pillows and blankets for us so we could be comfortable during the film…”

“Awww, you big softy!” You joked, kissing his cheek and making your way over to said desk.

Your kiss made him melt a little, swaying a bit as a lovey dovey smile grew on his face, following you.

And who knows! Maybe the movie is not that bad!

Oh dear him, it was that bad.

He was huddled in the soft blue blanket the two of you shared, while you were practically on the edge of your seat with an excited smile on your face.

He couldn’t ponder how you enjoyed this type of movie.

He also couldn’t ponder why the children have not just run away yet- OH MY DEAR LORD SHE SHOVED THE GRANDDAUGHTER IN THE OVEN!

He covered his eyes as he shook some more, hearing the old lady’s laugh in the background. He kept switching from not looking to looking throughout the rest of the film, and every time you asked if he was okay, he would brush it off and say he was getting tired or this movie bored him.

He thanked whatever god that was up there when the movie ended.

Once you stretched your arms above your head with a smile, you got up and went to retrieve the movie; “That was such a thrill! The ending was very-“

Once your eyes met with Brain’s shivering form underneath the blanket, it pretty much hit you like a truck.

He was scared.

You softly walked over to him and laid a gentle hand on his blanket covered head, making him jump and look at you with wide eyes, making you flinch a bit and look down, your ears flattening. “Oh Brain… I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to get a movie that you wouldn’t like or get scared of, I… I honestly thought that you liked horror films.”

He looked at you with sad eyes before adverting his gaze. “No… I… must apologize, I… I just wanted us to have a nice movie night… and my fear ruined it…”

“Oh, Brain…” You scooped up his face in your paws, smiling at him. “You didn’t ruin anything. I just wished I could make it up to you for bringing a movie that pretty much wrecked the vibe.”

“Well… perhaps you could do… one thing.”

“Hm? What’s that?”

He soon wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his head in your chest. “Stay here with me… please.”

How could you say no to him? You laid back down onto the pillows and held him tight, your tails intertwining as you both closed your eyes and held onto each other, comfy and warm with the blanket and each other’s embrace.

While the movie may have not been romantic…

This certainly was.

#animaniacs #pinky and the brain #patb #The Brain x Reader #matsurrawrites #oneshot #oneshot request

[kristianaandtheheartbreakprince]

The Links I’ve Made

Listening twice through

the 1

And if you bleed, you're never gonna grow - And if I bleed, you'll be the last to know (Cruel Summer)

Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool - Jump in to the pool from the balcony // feeling so Gatsby for that whole year (This is Why We Can't Have Nice Things)

In my defense, I have none, for never leaving well enough alone - I never leave well enough alone (ME!)

cardigan

Chase two girls, lose the one - Call back to "Girl at Home"?

the last great american dynasty

There goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen - Mad Woman

Filled up the pool with champagne and swam with the big name - Everyone's swimming in a champagne sea (This is Why We Can't Have Nice Things)

I had a marvelous time - I said oh my, what a marvelous tune (Starlight)

exile

With his arms around your body, laughin' but the joke's not funny at all - Reminds me of the photos of her with TH on the rocks

You're not my homeland anymore, so what am I defending now? - Keep your helmet, keep your life, son, just a flesh wound, here's your rifle, crawling up the beaches now, "Sir, I think he's bleeding out" //  With you I serve, with you I fall down  (epiphany)

I think I've seen this film before and I didn't like the ending - You knew the hero died so what's the movie for? (hoax)

You were my crown, now I'm in exile, seein' you out - They took the crown but it's alright (Call It What You Want)

We always walked a very thin line - You and I walk a fragile line, I have known it all this time (Haunted)

my tears richochet

And if I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes, too

- I am ash from your fire (hoax)  - But I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm (peace)

We gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean, some to throw, some to make a diamond ring - People throw rocks at things that shine (Ours)

You wear the same jewels that I gave you as you bury me - LWYMMD MV

mirrorball

Spinning in my highest heels, love  - Spinning like a girl in a brand new dress (Holy Ground)

I'm still on that tightrope - You and I walk a fragile line, I have known it all this time (Haunted)

august

Whispers of "Are you sure?" "Never have I ever before" - We are alone, just you and me, up in your room and our slates are clean (State of Grace)

And I can see us twisted in bedsheet - I can see it all in my head, back and forth sneaking in your bed (Daylight) - All of you, all of me intertwined (Daylight)

And say, "Meet me behind the mall" - You can meet me in the back (Delicate)

Remember when I pulled up and said "Get in the car" - She said "James, get in, let's drive" (betty)

this is me trying

I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting - Salt air, and the rust on your door (august)

I just wanted you to know that this is me trying - This is me swallowing my pride, standing in front of you saying I'm sorry for that night (Back to December)

They told me all of my cages were mental - Gold cage hostage to my feelings (So It Goes...)

And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad - Mad woman

illicit affairs

Hood over your head, keep your eyes down - My baby's fit like a daydream, walking with his head down, I'm the one he's walking to (Call It What You Want)

Don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby" - My baby's fit like a daydream (Call It What You Want) - Call my bluff, call you babe (It’s Nice To Have a Friend)

You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else - and ode to all of her lyrics about colour!

invisible string

Green was the color of the grass // Teal was the color of your shirt - another ode to lyrical colours

Bad was the blood of the song in the cab on your first trip to LA - Now we've got bad blood (Bad Blood)

Out of all the wrong arms, right into that dive bar - dive bar on the east side, where you at? (Delicate)

One single thread of gold // Gold was the colour of the leaves - I once believed love would be burning red, but it's golden, like daylight (Daylight)

Gave me the blues and then purple-pink skies - Light pink sky up on the roof, sun sinks down, no curfew (It's Nice To Have a Friend)

And it's cool, baby with me - it's cool, that's what I tell them no rules in breakable heaven (Cruel Summer)

mad woman

And women like hunting witches too - they're burning all the witches, even if you aren't one (I Did Something Bad)

I'm taking my time, taking my time - time, wondrous time (invisible string) - time, mystical time (invisible string) - time, curious time  (invisible string)

hoax

My only one - only 1

My smoking gun // my twisted knife - bought a knife to a gun fight (Call It What You Want)

Don't want no other shade of blue but you - it's blue the feeling I've got (Cruel Summer) (and a million references to Blue she's had!)

You know I left a part of me back in New York - back and forth, from New York (Daylight)

You knew it still hurts underneath my scars - You drew stars around my scars (cardigan)

My kingdom come undone - my castle crumbled overnight (Call It What You Want)

peace

Suddenly this summer, it's clear - Cruel Summer

I would die for you in secret  - Remember how I said I’d die for you? (False God) - Your love is a secret I’m hoping, dreaming, dying to keep (King of My Heart)

You paint dreamscapes on the wall - We never painted by the numbers, baby (the 1)

But there's robbers to the east, clowns to the west - 'nuf said

The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me - It's Nice to Have a Friend

Sit with you in the trenches - epiphany

Family that I chose, now that I see your brother as my brother - Trust him like a brother (Call It What You Want)

betty

When I passed your house it's like I couldn't breathe - Windows down, I pass my street the memories start // Headlights pass the window pane, I think of you (I Wish You Would)

You can't believe a word she says most times, but this time it was true - So I guess all the rumors are true (London Boy)

Or lead me to the garden? - I snuck through the garden gate every night that summer just to seal my fate (Cruel Summer)

Standing in your cardigan - And when I felt like I was an old cardigan (Cardigan)

#taylor swift #folklore #ts8 #betty #peace #the lakes #hoax #mad woman #invisible string #illicit affairs #mirror ball #my tears richochet #easter eggs #august #exile #cardigan #the 1 #the last great american dynasty #krisrambles

[ineloqueent]

clouds of snow

Roger Taylor x Reader

synopsis: you and Roger are snowed in. an attempt to cheer up a gloomy Rog turns into an elaborate plan, and the results are cosy.

warnings: swearing

word count: 2.5k

see the moodboard here!

⭒

1975

It had begun to snow shortly after you’d woke up, and even now, two hours later, it had yet to stop.

You’d always known that your best friend— and flatmate— had a childish side, and when the snow had started to fall that morning, this childish side had come out.

He’d called your name from the kitchen, and sleepily, half-dressed in business wear for your drab office job but still wearing pyjamas on your lower half, you’d ambled out of your room to find him leaning out of the window, as the snow fell in his hair.

Realising what he was doing, you gave a shout of alarm.

“Roger, you’ll freeze to death!”

He turned to look at you, a smile forming on his lips. “If I don’t fall to it first.”

“What—”

His eyes widened and he waved his arms in frantic circles, leaning farther out over the windowsill.

You cried out and rushed forward, wrapping your arms around his waist before he could lean any more than he already had.

He laughed and braced himself on the windowsill with one arm, wrapping his other around you as you rested your cheek against his back.

“Don’t do that,” you murmured.

He ruffled your hair, shifting slightly in your grasp. “Would you miss me if I was gone?”

“Of course not,” you scoffed, “but who would pay the other half of the rent?”

“Oh, you’re lethal,” said Roger, shaking his head as he turned to face you, his arms winding around your frame. You clung to him still, your chin on his chest.

“How come you’ve lasted this long, then?”

He snorted. “Because I’m used to you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you calling me boring?”

“‘Course not. You keep surprising me every day. It’s a wonder I haven’t moved out yet.”

“And on that note,” you said, unclasping his hands from behind you, before proceeding to disentangle yourself from his embrace, “I’m going to work, so that if you do decide to move out, I can still afford to pay the lease.”

“Already?” said Roger, crossing his arms and pouting, as you nodded and hurried back to your bedroom to finish getting dressed.

You left the door open a crack, because he seemed in the mood to talk, and would probably expect a response from you when he did so.

“Oh, at least stay for coffee, Y/N. We haven’t done anything together in ages.”

You smirked to yourself at his petulant tone, pulling on your newly-polished shoes whilst hopping from foot to foot, trying not to lose your balance.

“Y/N?”

Now properly dressed, you opened your bedroom door and walked straight into your best friend, who was leaning against the doorframe. You took a retreating step.

Folding your arms as well, you considered.

“C’mon,” he said, with a little dip of his head, pleading with those big eyes of his. “Just you and me.” He nudged your shoulder. “Just for a little bit.”

You pretended to continue your consideration, but really, you had already made up your mind.

“Fine,” you said, and Roger smiled gorgeously. “But if I’m late, again, I’m having you ring them and butter them up as your charming self.”

His smile only broadened, as he winked and pushed off of the doorframe. “I’ll go make coffee.”

You shook your head at his suave demeanour, then resumed in collecting your things for work.

A few minutes later, the smell of coffee had begun to waft through the flat, and you made your way back into the main living area to find Roger leaning his elbows on the kitchen counter, frowning as he listened to something on the radio.

“Y/N,” he murmured when he saw you, “come listen to this.”

“What?” you said, straightening your cuffs as you made for the kitchen. “Have the Bay City Rollers knocked Queen out of a number one spot again?”

Roger made a face. “Ha ha, very funny. Happened once, will never let it happen again.” He passed you your coffee, and you thanked him with a nod. “No, this is about the weather.”

“The weather?”

“Yeah, listen.” He reached over and turned up the volume on the radio, and the two of you leaned closer to the apparatus, almost with your heads together.

You wrinkled your nose, feigning disgust at your closeness, though really you felt anything but. Roger rolled his eyes at you and tossed his head in the direction of the radio. You sighed and refocused on the presenter’s voice.

“We once again would like to remind you of London’s severe weather warning, and the national advisory to avoid driving through the city. The underground too, is overwhelmed, so if you were planning on getting to work via the Tube, think again. With the current repairs, and the inclement weather having demobilised several stations, burying them under a blanket of snow, there’s no knowing when you’d get to work, or whether you’d ever make it back.”

Here, the radio presented laughed, and you glanced over at Roger.

“Bit of a morbid sense of humour, that one.”

Roger snickered, “Yeah, bit.”

“Once again, we strongly recommend not travelling during this weather, if at all avoidable, and the Prime Minister seems to agree. Stay safe out there, London.

We now return to our regular broadcast, bringing you the best music of yesterday, today, and even that of tomorrow. Coming up next, an oldie but goldie, Shocking Blue’s ‘Venus’…”

Roger dialled down the volume again.

“So,” he raised his eyebrows at you. “Stay home with me?”

You tapped his nose with your forefinger, and straightened up. “Yeah, why not?”

He grinned.

⭒

“I am so bloody bored, I actually wouldn’t mind an argument with Brian.”

It was two o’clock in the afternoon, and having finished your coffee that morning, you had changed back into loungewear, whilst Roger had set about attempting to find a film to watch on the telly.

Between Monty Python and the Holy Grail, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and the dreadfully dull and inaptly named Great Gatsby— the book of which Roger insisted was far better than the shoddy film— the two of you had turned to board games. When Roger had beat you seven times in a row at Scrabble, you’d just about had enough, and had gone to the kitchen to make hot chocolate, skipping lunch entirely in favour of dessert.

Four cups of hot chocolate later— two for each of you— Roger had flopped down on the couch, his head and upper torso hanging over the armrest, his legs splayed on the sofa cushions, with a long-suffering sigh.

“I don’t think Brian would agree,” you laughed, finishing the nail you were painting. You were painting the nails of one hand black and the other white, as you’d once promised Freddie and Brian you would. You’d never had both the time and energy to fulfill your promise, until now, nearly a year later, despite Deacy’s efforts to coerce you into doing so, because he and Freddie had been running a bet as to when you would finally get to it.

“Hm. He’s probably off with Chrissie.” Roger shifted, pushing hair out of his eyes. His face was growing pinker the longer he remained suspended upside down. “I haven’t got a Chrissie,” he mumbled.

You screwed the cap back on the black nail polish, and looked over at your best friend. “You’ve got me,” you said softly.

“Yeah, and I’d give my life for you,” he smiled rather sadly, “but it’s not the same, is it?”

In all honesty, it hurt a little to hear him say that. You knew you were not to Roger what Chrissie was to Brian, but it hurt to know that you weren’t enough.

“Roger,” you began slowly, folding your legs beneath you, “are you lonely?”

His eyelashes fluttered as he turned his gaze on you. “Bit, yeah,” he said quietly.

This confession hurt all the more. You wanted to gather him into your arms and hug him to you until all the loneliness dispersed from his very soul.

You didn’t, though. You and Roger had always been close, but this would bring you a little too close. A little too close to something he clearly didn’t want, even if you might have been open to the idea. A little more than open, really, but you pushed that thought to the back of your mind, and the feeling to the depths of your heart.

He’d said nothing more in your silence, and when you looked at him again, he had tugged his lower lip between his teeth, and his eyes seemed more like the ocean than ever— watery.

“Rog,” you said.

“Hm?”

“We could build a fort. A pillow fort.”

His smile was small, but it was there. “The one you always tell me not to make because it’ll ruin the sofa cushions?”

“Yes,” you sighed, “with the splinters you get from these hardwood floors, they’ll scuff up the cushions nicely. And I can’t afford new ones.”

Roger sat up, brightened at the prospect of a pillow fort. “You know I can. I’ll gladly buy you new ones. So, pillow fort?”

His sudden excitement was almost comical, and you so loved seeing that smile back on his face, so you conceded.

“Yeah, alright then.”

“Oh, I’ll love you forever!” He stooped and kissed your cheek in elation, and you pushed him away.

“Get off, you big sap.”

He only laughed, and threw a cushion at you. “Get building, Y/N. We don’t have all day.”

⭒

It was a large-scale construction, your pillow fort. It spanned the whole of the living room floor, which, relatively speaking, wasn’t a lot, as the property you and Roger shared was in London, where a flat cost an arm and a leg, and half a heart as well. All the same, it was still quite impressive.

The pillow fort employed four blankets, six sofa cushions, five pillows, and two rugs, and was wide enough to crawl through and around the coffee table, in a sort of loop. Roger had retrieved torches and switched them on beneath coffee filters, to create makeshift lamps. In the meantime, you’d collected books and magazines, for something to do, and a tin of Roger’s favourite biscuits— the latter in hope of cheering him up ever the more, to keep at bay that loneliness.

“It’s brilliant,” said Roger, standing outside of the fort to admire the results of your teamwork. “It’s the best bloody pillow fort I’ve ever seen.”

You opened the tin of biscuits, a book already in your lap.

“You coming in, or what?” you asked. “You promised you’d read me Gatsby, and I’ve got the only biscuits in the house.”

“Is that so?” Roger mused, and a scuffling sound announced his entrance to the pillow fort, which, in your humble opinion, was really more of a castle.

The blankets rustled as he made his way toward you, and you glanced up at the cotton ceiling.

“Watch it, Rog. The whole place’ll come down in a second.”

Roger only laughed, but the cushion-wall at your side seemed about ready to fall.

“Roger,” you said again, as he came into view. “Seriously, be careful. All our hard work will be for nothing.”

“And to think you weren’t taking this seriously at the beginning, eh? Now you’d give up those biscuits to save it.”

Your tone was warning, “Rog, I really think you should—”

At that moment, the cushion at your side tilted dangerously, and you grabbed Roger’s arm to pull him away from the wall, because his motion was what had upset it in the first place.

But it was too late, and instead of pulling Roger out of the line of fire, you pulled the whole place down around you— and him atop you.

The blanket fell over his head as the walls around you collapsed, and Roger narrowly avoided falling flat upon you, bracing himself on his elbows, at your sides.

He laughed, and despite your slight contempt at him ruining the fort before you’d even had the chance to enjoy it, you laughed too.

His hair hung down over his face and fell in your eyes, and you batted golden streaks away as he continued to laugh, giddily.

“Oh, I’ve not had so much fun in ages,” he said, an echo of his statement from the morning, though this was an expression of happiness, rather than of complaint.

You smiled up at him. “Yeah, me neither.”

But Roger had gone abruptly silent.

His chest rose and fell in the wake of his laughter, but the smile had faded from his lips, his eyes.

Then he lowered his mouth to yours, trading a soft breath with you, before he kissed you.

Something swept over you, a tide, a wind, a fog, a daze— you knew not what, but it swept over you, and slowly, devoured you. It was like clouds, only these clouds were unfamiliar, warm in place of cold when, logically, they should have been cold. This was like looking at clouds, and realising that you’d been looking at clouds wrong for all your life.

Because something had to have changed, didn’t it? You had never felt Roger’s touch in this way, nor longed for it so much as you did now, even with it still upon you.

You’d looked at Roger wrong for all your life, it seemed.

Your hands came to rest on either side of his face, before they carded through his hair, and you kissed him deeply, savouring the taste of chocolate which still lingered on his lips, savouring his sudden closeness to you, the softness of his kiss— far softer than the pillows which had toppled about you and landed you in this beautiful mess in the first place.

You pushed his shoulder so that he fell to his side and you could wrap yourself around him and meld into his form, and he yielded to your touch as equally as he reciprocated it.

When he broke the kiss, it was with a dazed expression and swollen, parted lips, and you swallowed thickly, glancing away and hoping dearly that he was not about to express regret for what he had done.

He didn’t.

“Maybe it is the same,” he whispered.

“What?” you murmured back, confused.

He raised his hand and his fingertips traced your jaw, his eyes following in an intimate gaze. “I said I didn’t have someone, you know, but maybe I do. Maybe it could be the same. Maybe we could be both. Friends, and—”

His breath faltered, and you reached for his hand. “Go on, Rog.”

“Lovers,” he suggested quietly.

You didn’t think about it, because it was not a matter to be thought of. This was to be felt, and nothing more.

“I’d love that.”

He blinked. “Pun… not intended?”

You swatted at him, rolling your eyes, and that light, fluttering laughter bubbled up in his throat again, warm and familiar.

“I hate you,” you said.

“Good,” Roger whispered, touching his nose to yours. His words hummed on your lips. “Because I think I love you more than ever.”

#s&t celebrate #tina's writing #roger taylor x reader #fic

[rubyxts]

Taylor Swift’s Lyrical Traffic Violations, Ranked

As Taylor Swift continues the slow but steady release of her re-recordings with Red (Taylor’s Version), we’re able to collectively revisit some of her early work through the lens of her discography as a whole. In doing so, there are certain recurring themes or tropes that become apparent, like forbidden romances, colors representing emotions, and the worst driving imaginable. Anyone who’s either a Swiftie or a crossing guard is sure to have noticed just how often Taylor sings about these illegal traffic maneuvers. And after nine albums of this, it’s reached a point where I finally begin to understand why the gay antagonist in “Picture to Burn” didn’t let her drive his “stupid old pickup truck.”

🤧

That being said, when really examining these violations with a critical eye, it becomes apparent that most of them were actually committed by the men driving Taylor around. Amongst this “long list of ex-lovers,” there are some reckless drivers, some who make minor mistakes, and some whose licenses should be revoked. The trend has slowed down as of late, suggesting that Joe Alwyn is a very good, responsible driver, whose time behind the wheel is not interesting enough to sing about — thank God.

Here, we rank every traffic violation in Taylor Swift’s discography, considering factors like severity of the infraction, danger level, and importance to T. Swiftian canon. But much like the way traffic cops do their jobs, the reasoning is mostly arbitrary and made up.

15. “Our Song” (Taylor Swift)

“He’s got a one-hand feel on the steering wheel, The other on my heart”

The first thing they teach you in driver’s ed is to keep your hands at ten and two, and yet here Taylor is driving around town with a boy who only has one hand on the wheel. Their “song” is going to be the sound of sirens if he doesn’t get his act together.

14. “Red” (Red)

“Loving him is like driving a new Maserati down a dead-end street, Faster than the wind, passionate as sin, ending so suddenly”

Whether it be a new Maserati, or a pre-owned Toyota RAV4, it is never a good idea to take off full speed down a dead-end street. Particularly if it’s not even a cul-de-sac and you’ll have to do a three-point turn to get out. Now, to be fair, there’s some room for debate on just how fast she’s going since it depends on wind speed. The average wind speed in Taylor’s home state of Pennsylvania is 17.1 mph, the highest wind speed ever recorded on Earth is 253 mph, and the speed of “The Wind” by Cat Stevens is 115 BPM. So do with that what you will.

13. “State of Grace” (Red)

“I’m walking fast through the traffic lights”

Traffic lights, per their name, are famously designed for cars — not pedestrians. So Taylor has absolutely no business galavanting through traffic on foot like a regular Kelly Killoren Bensimon.

12. “This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things” (Reputation)

“Feeling so Gatsby for that whole year”

Much like Taylor Swift’s discography, The Great Gatsby is also about terrible driving, which I assume is why she relates to it. I know this because I not only read The Great Gatsby in high school, but I also saw the Fergie-scored film adaptation. A cornerstone of both versions is vehicular manslaughter.

11. “betty” (Folklore)

“Kissin’ in my car again, Stopped at a streetlight”

Folklore’s “betty,” “august,” and “cardigan” are a trilogy of songs about loitering told from three different perspectives. The bulk of this love triangle seems to boldly take place in parked cars. In “august” for example, Taylor sings, “Meet me behind the mall,” and I highly doubt that they were grabbing an Auntie Anne’s and hitting up a Macy’s One Day Sale. In “betty” and “cardigan,” they don’t even wait until they’re concealed behind the safety of a closed down DSW, instead opting for a spot under a streetlight of all places.

10. “Cornelia Street” (Lover)

“But then you called, showed your hand, I turned around before I hit the tunnel”

Given that this song is about a street in one of Taylor’s favorite lyrical neighborhoods, the West Village, it’s fair to assume that the tunnel in question is the Holland Tunnel. Those surrounding roads are a nightmare, so I’m nearly certain that this would have to be an illegal U-turn — which I think is a fair leap to make given her history of vehicular crime. That being said, this might just be the most understandable violation given the choice was between Joe Alwyn and Jersey City.

9. “Fearless” (Fearless)

“I wanna stay right here in this passenger seat, You put your eyes on me”

Taylor gets a lot of flack for writing songs about boys she dates, but doesn’t get nearly enough heat for distracting them while they’re trying to drive. This is just one of the many times that she prides herself on being more interesting for a driver to look at than the road.

8. “Style” (1989)

“Midnight, you come and pick me up, no headlights, Long drive, could end in burning flames or paradise”

Thematically, 1989 is an album about Harry Styles being bad at driving. The first of many examples of this is here in his namesake song, where he picks Taylor up with no headlights on. Clearly an attempt to sneak around undetected, it’s actually just a surefire way to hit a deer — ESPECIALLY at midnight of all times. At least Taylor seems to know from the jump the dangers of getting in a car with Harry behind the wheel, understanding that the long drive could potentially end in burning flames.

7. “Cruel Summer” (Lover)

“So cut the headlights, summer’s a knife”

Well it looks like someone didn’t learn her lesson about driving in the dark. Here it sounds like she’s trying to corrupt former frozen yoghurt shop employee Joe Alwyn, instructing him to turn off their headlights to keep a low profile. Still, it’s nothing compared to the far worse crime of this song, which is that it didn’t get a music video.

6. “Breathe” (Fearless)

“Never wanted this, never wanna see you hurt, Every little bump in the road I tried to swerve”

Roads have a lot of little bumps, and if you’re swerving at every single one you’re a danger to society and your driving is sure to give poor Colbie Caillat whiplash.

5. “Getaway Car” (Reputation)

“You were driving the getaway car, We were flying but we’d never get far.”

I mean, what is there to say about this? Getaway cars very rarely are known for their safe, law-abiding driving. The song even references other crimes, like putting the money in the bag and stealing the keys (grand theft auto?), mentions of famed criminals Bonnie and Clyde (who tried to steal Moonlight’s Oscar), and worst of all saying “sorry” with a Canadian accent so it rhymes with “story.”

4. “Style” (1989)

“So it goes, He can’t keep his wild eyes on the road”

Speaking of wild eyes, somebody tell Olivia Wilde to never get in the car with Harry — we still need her Kerri Strug biopic.

3. “Out of the Woods” (1989)

“Remember when you hit the brakes too soon? Twenty stitches in a hospital room”

As any history buff knows, in December of 2014 Taylor Swift and Harry Styles went on a ski trip to Park City, Utah, with Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez. It was on this fateful trip that the One Direction singer and future Cats star got into a snowmobile accident, resulting in Harry getting 20 stitches on his chin. Taylor later told Rolling Stone that she saw her life flash before her eyes, which I can understand because if I were in an accident I would also see Taylor Swift’s life flash before my eyes. The incident is shrouded in mystery, with Taylor urging the witnesses not to tell anyone about it, so we may never know what it was that caused Harry Styles to brake too soon. Perhaps a stray Chelsea boot in need of a home.

2. “All You Had to Do Was Stay” (1989)

“All I know is that you drove us off the road”

Why did this woman continue to let Harry Styles drive her around? What kind of adrenaline-junkie death wish did she possess?

1. “All Too Well” (Red)

“You almost ran the red ’cause you were looking over at me”

Jake Gyllenhaal might as well have been using the scarf that Taylor left at Maggie Gyllenhaal’s house as a blindfold, because this man was NOT looking at the road. When one drives down a little town street, especially with the precious cargo of America’s songstress in the car, it is key to watch where you’re going. Skidding to a halt because you didn’t realize that the light had turned red (the TITULAR color)? Unacceptable, Donnie Darko. The “crumpled-up piece of paper” that he made Taylor feel like was probably a traffic summons. Along with the release of Red (Taylor’s Version), we’re also finally getting the mythical ten-minute version of this song, and I truly shudder to think about what other traffic crimes Jake Gyllenhaal will commit in those extra four minutes and 33 seconds.

[hotchrocket-archive]

BAU members as gen z “aesthetics”

(Is that a thing? I think it’s a thing)

Emily:

E girl of course

Owns so many pairs of fishnets she can’t count them all

Dyes her hair a new color every month

Surprisingly not in to anime though, she’s more of film geek as she’s really into old black and white noirs

Gets into fights with trumpies on twitter

In love with the entirety of the snl season 32 cast

Penelope:

Kid core aesthetic of course

Has a million plushie collectible things

Is a total weeb

A gamer of course. She has a huge pink themed set up in her room

Ex horse girl

Hotch/Aaron:

Takes model Congress way to seriously and sulks after he loses the gavel to a girl at Yale moco

Is a Soviet kid and thinks the wwII kids are losers

Has a bust of Marcus Aurelius in his room

Is a rich ass Scarsdale type. His room is a grey blue theme and has monogrammed pillows on his bed

Yet he is still popular at school, probably because he plays hockey

Walks around with a copy of the catcher in the rye and talks about how Holden is the blueprint

Spencer:

TikTok twink (I’m sorry)

Has a light academia aesthetic and has an addiction to anything that makes him look like he goes to a gothic boarding school in the 30s

Has the vogue Harry styles cover hanging up in his room

Popular at school but because he’s “one of the girls”

Posts a bunch a activism TikToks and Instagram posts and is one of those “gen z is the revolution”

Favorite band is cage the elephant

JJ:

Basic white girl im sorry

Wears black leggings and brandy tops all the damn time

Does cheer

Is a COVID nonbeliever and posts video being like “how am I supposed to breathe without air”

goes to frat parties as a highschooler

Becomes popular on TikTok for her dances though and moves to Cali to become an “influencer”

Derek:

Football player

A douche around his friends but actually a huge softie who respects women

Calls his girlfriend his queen

Has a Instagram where he posts those shirtless red eye pics on the dark

Teams up with Emily sometimes to take down trumpies

Has a obsession with the great gatsby

Rossi:

Stereotypical Italian American I guess

I cannot imagine him as gen z so I’m giving up here

#cm #criminal minds #criminal minds incorrect quotes #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #david rossi #emily prentiss #penelope garcia

[vanchlo]

Green Eyes

*Thanks so much for reading! c: There are now several parts you can read here:   2    3    4 

I’m so happy to share that I won a fiction writing award for this short story through my college’s art journal! c: 

Blurb Synopsis: You had been subbing for Mr. Styles for the last couple of months, but you’ve yet to meet him. The notes you leave for each other have sparked a friendship, leading you to want more, and you wonder if he does too.

Genre: Teacher Harry, lots of fluff, friendship, and maybe even some romance? ;) 

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5.5k words

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Music Inspo: Green Eyes by Coldplay (click to listen)

*

His shelves were full of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Rumi, and Charles Bukowski. His desk was covered in scribbled Post-It notes, Bit-O-Honey wrappers, and empty mugs of tea. 

This is what you noticed the first few times you subbed in his classroom. 

These were the only details you knew about the man whose face you’ve never seen. As you gradually began to substitute for his high school English classes more and more, you learned about him more. This was due to his students, and his personal belongings. 

What he didn’t and didn’t like: all the way from no fringes on a notebook paper, no red pen ever because that was his grading color, no using the word ‘can’t’ in his class, and students can eat all the snacks they want as long as the trash goes in the bin where it belongs. 

The CDs in a stack on the shelf told you which ones he actually listened to because they were the ones that were on top and without dust. 

You learned that the pristine book on his desk was never the one he was reading. No, it was the weathered and used copy beside his mug with dog-eared pages and penciled notes. 

His drawers told you another story with their contents: boxes of teas ranging from peach to vanilla macaron, journals filled to the brim with words, adult coloring books with tv show themes, and books on Van Gogh and Monet hinting at his artsy background. His students slowly warmed up to you, and through them, so did he. 

At this point, you’d only been subbing for Mr. Styles the last five months, racking up around two and a half weeks worth of subbed days. He always left precise and concise lesson plans for you. The books were where he said they’d be. The webpages he mentioned were bookmarked on his desktop. The teacher copy of the textbook and current group book were on his desk. At the beginning, his desk looked like a professional organizer had gotten their hands on it. Slowly, as you came to sub more for him, it grew messier, albeit you kept it tidy during your appearances. As the first few months passed and you became one of the few subs in his room, you started to find notes. They weren’t just any notes. They were more than the straight forward sub notes for the day’s agenda. No, they weren’t that simple. You can still remember the first one you found on a Post-It note - it went like this: 

Y/N, peanut butter on your waffles or syrup? 

It took you by surprise, but nonetheless, you answered his call. Each time, you’d find a contrasting pen color and scrawl your answer underneath his. Then leaving it somewhere he would find it the next day. They were one-liners at the beginning, and always interesting. Walking to his classroom from your car on those mornings, you’d fill with excitement at the anticipation of finding the next one. Sometimes it took you the entire day to find where he had hidden them. 

In the closet. 

In a nook in a drawer. 

Under the chair. 

On the backside of one of his books. 

Hidden in plain sight amongst his current choice of notes and lists. 

They never failed to spark a smile on your lips, whether it was quirky, confused, astounded or humored. 

Guitar or piano?

FRIENDS or The Simpsons?

Vanilla or Chocolate?

Would you rather become a superhero or a wizard?

The Beatles or the Rolling Stones?

Slowly, the questions became more personal, and more than just ‘this or that.’ His questions became longer, and so did your answers.  

What was the moment that made you decide to become a teacher?

Is Donny a good student for you, or is he lying to me about that?

What color are your eyes?

What book/film do you believe had the largest impact on you while growing up?

What is the one meal you always order at a restaurant?

Do you have a family?

Should I splurge and buy a new desk chair?

What book should I buy for my classroom you think I need to have? Why?

Why don’t you have a classroom of your own?

When is your birthday?

Star Wars or Lord of the Rings?

They were never a chore for you, or tedious. No, they were fun and you felt as if you saw a little sliver of who he really was with each note. After a while, you started to write and leave your own notes for him to answer. At first, many of them were similar to ones he had left you, because you wanted to hear his responses, too. 

*

The newest one stares back at you, his half-cursive registering in your eyes.

What’s your favorite part about subbing in my classroom? Don’t say the students, that’s what everybody says. 

Giggling to yourself, you reach over to his Pink Floyd mug to pull out a green pen. You take a moment to think of your answer. This time you found the note peeking out from behind the smart whiteboard. The sounds of the end of a school day tickle at your ears as you scribble down your answer. Pressing it to an open square of wood on his desk, you turn back to the royal blue pad of Post-Its. Peeling one off, the green pen hovers over the paper, but you can’t get yourself to write the question you’ve been wanting to know all along. 

He didn’t have a Facebook, or an Instagram. 

The high school doesn’t have a wall of staff pictures like others you’ve subbed at do. 

It’s late winter, so yearbooks are still a ways off. 

For all you know, you could have seen him here before in the halls when you subbed in another classroom. 

Exhaling, you press the pen to the paper before you can convince yourself to stop. Unlike the many times before when your fears got the best of you. 

What do you look like?

With a proud but nervous smile you stick it to the desk, layering the first note on top. It sticks to your lips as you bend down to reach your hand into your bag. The glossy bag greets your hand, and you pull it out to set down beside the note. 

A small bag of Bit-O-Honeys. 

Looking up, your eyes scan the empty classroom. Few footsteps, voices, and lockers slamming trickle in from the halls. You suddenly realize that this is the same view he sees, these are the same sounds he hears, and the same place he sits in every day. Well, when he’s not away on personal days, sick days, on holiday, and at workshops, hence your appearances. The thought knits something together inside of you, making you feel just that bit more closer to him. Something that’s been slowly happening over time since you first stepped foot in his classroom. 

One of the first things that did this was the posters scattered across his walls. A poster from the 2013 remake of The Great Gatsby, The Beatles’ Abbey Road album cover, a cartoon of William Shakespeare, a unifying print of Keith Haring’s art, and several posters of quotes from famous books - To Kill A Mockingbird, the Kite Runner, Of Mice and Men, The Life of Pi, and even The Hunger Games. It delighted you watching him add some of them to the walls since your time here, and you’ve been itching to purchase him one as a gift. You’re unsure of what he would like though, and the fear of failure has held you back from doing so. 

A bleep! catches your attention. Casting your eyes to the dormant desktop screen, you wiggle the mouse. A red circle has appeared on the title of a tab opened to your professional email. Clicking over to it from a YouTube video he had you show the class, you find you have a new message. At the sight of who sent it, your heart skips a beat: harry.styles@isd . . . . . . . 

Hi. I reckon you’re still sitting at my desk this moment, now that’s a funny thought. I wanted to ask you a question while I remembered. I have to go out of town on Friday for a funeral. Believe me, I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to, but these things are a must. I apologize for it being short notice, but I thought I’d ask you if you would like to take it before I posted it to the sub database. Please let me know either way by tonight, so it has a few days to sit on the website to be claimed. Also, I wanted to say thanks for everything you do. My students really love you, and it makes me wonder what I’m missing. Enjoy your night! 

Sincerely,

Harry Styles

“Keep your face always toward the sunshine - and shadows will fall behind you. - WW”

A smile warms your cheeks as you finish reading his words, and the familiar poem that ends every email of his. You quickly type up a response to him, agreeing to take the job on Friday, thanking him for thinking of you. A new email appears in your inbox shortly after from another colleague, which occupies you before you lose yourself in your thoughts again. 

Perhaps your favorite addition in his classroom is the Fender acoustic sitting on a stand in the corner. Of course, you’ve yet to see it move in the last five months. The stories his students have told you in a way have given it legs of its own in your mind. Much like the little notes you’ve been leaving for each other, something you dread ever ending. 

*

It was a Wednesday. You’re convinced that Mrs. Watson’s Pre-Calc class is surely the bane of your existence. You keep cursing yourself for taking sub assignments for math classes. Seeing that you’re terrible at the subject, you vowed you’d never take one of her assignments again, but you have to pay the bills somehow. You found your respite in the cozy staff lounge. Couches lined two of the walls, along with an arrangement of tables on the other side of the room. 

As you walk in, you see that one of the ancient history teachers has nodded off again on the plaid couch. Otherwise, the room is empty, and all to yourself. If that didn’t make you happy before, the assortment of food on the counter definitely does. 

Voices float in through the open door as the plastic lid to the cupcakes opens with a pop! 

“Ah, looks like ya got tha last chocolate one. I was savin’ that one fer me,” a voice comments from behind you. Turning, you find a tall man in his late 20’s walking towards you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, you can have it,” you volunteer, holding the blue-iced cupcake out for his taking. 

His blush lips curl up with an amused smile. Dimples fall neatly into his cheeks covered with thick stubble. Its deep brown color matches that of the short quiffed curls atop his head. Misty green eyes stare back at you in the middle of his round, but sharp face. “‘m only joking. Go ahead and have it. I already had one earlier. They’re quite good actually, but I dunno ‘bout tha vanilla. Never really cared fer tha flavoir when it comes t’ cake and ice cream,” he comments, passing you to stop at the nearby sink. 

“Yeah, I like to forget vanilla exists half of the time,” you remark, peeling away the paper liner of the cupcake. 

Leaning against the counter, you watch as his ringed hand grabs a red coffee mug from the cabinet. “So do I. ‘s ratha boring, if I do say so meself.”

Nodding to yourself, a silence follows your words. The sweetness of the cupcake is shocking when you take a bite. It makes you wonder how you devoured these sugar bombs as a child. A few beeps and a hum from the microwave echo throughout the room as you check your phone. 

“Y’know, I haven’t seen ya here at tha school befo’. Are ya new dis year or a sub?” he asks, bringing your eyes back to his lean figure. He pulls a yellow square packet from his tight-fitting black slats, a blush button-down tucked into its waist. 

“I started subbing here this year,” you answer before taking another bite of the cupcake. Half of it consists of the sickeningly sweet frosting that makes your teeth ache. 

“Mmmm I see. How d’ya like it so far? Are ya a new teacher, ‘s that why yer subbin’?” 

“Yeah, I went back to school kinda late in the game after doing something else. I figure I’d sub for a little bit for some experience, because what’s another year of waiting by this time?” you comment, observing how he fiddles with his black tie while searching in the refrigerator. 

“Well, congratulations. ‘s a big step t’ go back t’ school fer sumthin’ ya love. ‘s a good profession, I reckon. I’ve been teaching fer 7 years, and here at dis school fer 5. Sumtimes schools even hire subs they’ve had when a position opens, so keep yer eyes open,” he tells you, turning to you with a smile, a yogurt in his hand. 

“Thank you,” you say sincerely, returning the smile. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“Sure thing. I know it helped loads when I was a newbie. ‘ll see ya around, I gotta get back t’ class befo’ me students do first. Have a good one!” 

Walking towards you with the steaming cup of tea in his hands, he pats your arm with his other hand on the way out. Nodding at your ‘thank you’, a small ‘you’re welcome’ falls from his lips before the door closes behind him. Eating the last bite you can muster of the cupcake, you toss its remains in the bin. A thought worms its way into your mind as you sit down at the table. 

Wow, I wonder who that guy was? And is he married, because shit, he was handsome. 

*

The smell of orange essential oil greets you when you stepped foot into his classroom the next time. The state of his desk made you frown, and made you want to scratch the itch to clean it. You resisted it and didn’t, and that thought was taken away when his students began to find their desks. 

Another day of 7 classes came and went. 2 classes of Introduction to Creative Writing. 3 classes of American Literature. 2 classes of World Literature. Amusing YouTube videos broke up the monotony of your day, and those of his students. The lesson notes he left for you had become more concise as the months have passed, and as you learned from each other. The same couldn’t be said for the dish of Bit-O-Honeys on his desk that he’s kept stocked for your appearances. You’re just glad he’s put the bag you left for him to good use. All throughout your day you had been looking for his newest note, but this time it wasn’t in any of his usual spots. After correcting some quizzes from today, you finally found it in the bottom left-hand drawer of his mahogany desk. Stuck to a tall can of Coke, your favorite drink of choice. 

I’m sorry it’s warm, although I’m not sure how you like to drink it. I just find warm soda to be rather nasty. The answer to your question is I have green eyes, brown hair, I’m rather tall, and I like to dress up. Is that good enough for you? Now, what do you look like, love?

Your insides melt at the sight of his answer, but then you groan at the vagueness of it. Off the top of your head, you know there are at least 10 male teachers here at this school with brown hair, maybe more. Maybe even with green eyes, too, and you know that because you’ve seen them in the staff lounge or in the halls. The thought only grows worse when you lose count of  how many teachers there are here at this school. Let’s just say, there’s a lot. Yeah, that sure helps a whole lot. Annoyed, you pluck a pen from the green mug and answer his question with as little detail as possible. Two can play at this game, you think to yourself as you sigh. 

If you could have a jam session with any musician, dead or alive, who would it be?

Sticking the new note where its corner peeks out from under his tabletop calendar, your eyes return to the Coke. It’s undeniable, you feel a little less perturbed at him just at the sight of it. Only a little bit, that is. Sure, you’ve subbed for a countless number of teachers at this school, and more so in this school district. A few of them are even friends or relatives of yours, but you’d never connected with one before like you have with Harry. You just wish more than anything you could find out what he looks like and what he’s really like. Continuing to take his sub jobs doesn’t really help with that. It only drives you crazier wanting to know the other side of this fascinating human being. 

*

There he was, snoring on the couch again, tv remote in hand. The weather channel is playing, surprising you very little. Snickering, you yank open the door to the black refrigerator. After retrieving your striped black and blue lunchbox, you place the container of leftovers in the microwave. A laugh is heard over your shoulder, and when you turn, you find Green Eyes from the other day. 

Tittering as the door closes behind him, he says, “No fail, John ‘s always passed out on dat couch, I swear.”

“I know, it’s every time I’m here. Maybe he should just retire already so he can take his naps at home. Then maybe we could watch something on the tv for once,” you comment, shaking your head. Unpacking your lunch box, you take out a clementine, vanilla yogurt, and silverware. 

“Nah, he loves it too much. I don’t see him leavin’ anytime soon,” he remarks, walking past you to search the shelves of the fridge. “What’re we having’ t’day? Couldn’t find any cupcakes dis time?”

“No, those ones were too sweet anyways. They gave me a stomachache,” you complain with a grimace. The beeeeep! of the microwave interrupts your thoughts. 

“Mmmm, I dunno, I thought they were pretty good.” Rubbing his tummy, he pulls a breathy laugh from your lips. 

Your steaming container of leftovers almost burns your hands, and you dread trying to eat it within the next 10 minutes. Setting up for a lesson in Mr. Harrison’s classroom was a pain, making you wonder why you take any sub jobs besides Harry’s anymore. 

“No free food fer us t’day,” he pouts beside you, closing the fridge door before venturing to the vending machine in the corner. Your eyes drift to his outfit choice today - a white button-down topped with a buttoned vest the shade of ochre, all tucked into brown slacks.

“That’s why you pack a lunch. I thought you’d know the drill by now, since you said you’ve been teaching for a while.”

“I do, but sumtimes I forget. Yer already ahead o’ me with dat part, love,” he who doesn’t have a name answers with a short laugh. Sliding a leather wallet from his pocket, you see him type in a number before you sit down at the table. “Who are ya subbin’ fer t’day then?”

“I’m on the west side in the Science wing for Harrison. Bloody Bio.”

“Ugh, I neva cared fer science. Where were ya a few weeks ago when I last saw ya?” he questions, sliding out a chair across from you. An assortment of vending machine food hits the table with a slap - peanut M&M’s, a nutrigrain bar, and a bag of Sun Chips. 

“Upstairs in Watson’s Maths class. Remind me to never sub for her again, because I can’t understand Pre-Calc for the life of me. I never could in high school so I don’t know why I thought I could know,” you chuckle. A warmth fills your cheeks at the sight of his lips spreading into an amused smile. 

“Yeah, I neva cared fer Maths meself eitha. Numbas neva made a bit o’ sense t’ me, words were always betta,” he explains. You nod along with his words, your mouth occupied with a bite of spaghetti and meatballs. “What subject would ya like t’ teach once tha year’s ova an’ ya go searchin’ fer a job o’ yer own?”

“Um, probably something in English since that’s my focus area. Dabbling in History has been fun, though. I enjoy learning about it myself, and I always have a better time subbing in either of those classes,” you reveal. 

“I see,” he replies, his head going up and down. The crinkling of the granola bar wrapper fills the silence between you before he takes a bite. Crumbs pepper his chin, but he wipes them away from his thin beard. “How often d’ya sub here then?”

“I’d say probably 3 days a week typically, but some weeks are 4. Otherwise, I sometimes sub for a friend or somebody I know over at the middle school.”

“Ah, so yer license is sumthin’ like 8 - 12, ‘s it?” he inquires, picking up the black mug you hadn’t noticed he had. 

“Yeah, I thought that would give me a good range for those grades. With my experience now, I think I’d like to stay at the high school level though,” you continue, twirling you fork around in the noodles covered in tomato sauce. Crossing your legs, the satiny fabric of your black dress pants moves with you. 

“We could always use anotha good teacher here. Ya neva know what’ll happen,” he smiles, standing to his feet with his snacks held in his large hand. Returning his smile, he adds his mug to that hand, patting your back once on his way out. “See ya next time, love. Keep yer head up, it’ll get betta.” 

“Thanks,” you automatically respond with. When you go to say his name, you’re lost for words, because you suddenly remember you’ve never gotten it. Now, he’s already too far away to ask for it. 

Shrugging your shoulders, you stab a meatball with your fork, wondering when the next time will be that you’ll see him again. Because, he sure is nice to look at, and he’s nicer to you than anybody else here. 

*

Stevie Nicks or John Lennon, it’s a tough call. Okay, I’m doing two questions from now on, because you ask such good ones :( Who would you jam with then? Question #2: What was the last concert you went to?

This time, you found the Post-It before the school day even started. It was on the seat of his chair, making you think he wanted you to find it right away. You’re thinking maybe he remembered one of the last times you complained about how hard he had made it. Sometimes you worry about how excited you get to look for these each time you sub in his classroom, but then you remember it’s only once every few weeks. 

That can’t hurt, can it? 

That day the hallways were louder than they usually were after school. You attributed that to the boys’ semifinals basketball game set to be played tonight in the gymnasium. The school’s home team against a nearby rival school. Students couldn’t stop talking about it all day, and many of them shared they’d be sticking around after school to attend. Checking your watch, you note that you should have enough time to stop at home to eat dinner before coming back for it. Even though you hadn’t even known about it before today. 

The Sufjan Stevens song floating from his desktop fills the room as you get out books for tomorrow. Your hands are full with copies of The Kite Runner, making you feel grateful again to Harry- Mr. Styles for picking a decent classic for the class to read. Although you’d only read it a few years ago yourself, and it broke your heart, you’re excited to sub next time to help his World Lit class with it. 

“Oh hey, be careful there, yer gonna slip and fall with all o’ those,” somebody says from behind you, distracting you from your mission of bringing the pile of books from the closet to a desk. 

Don’t I know that voice? Turning your eyes to the doorway, you find Green Eyes walk in with a coat slung over his arm. Wait a second. 

“I-I’m fine,” you stutter, but your actions that follow negate your words. Your eyes run over his familiar features, and slowly the puzzle pieces start to click in your head. Harry? A thought bomb explodes in your head, and the books tumble from your arms. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Yer okay,” he murmurs, stopping in front of you. Kneeling down, you both begin to pick up the books, stacking them on top of each other. “Thanks for gettin’ me set up fer t’morrow though. I appreciate it.” 

“Mmmhmm,” is all you can say, because any words that want to come out can’t get past the lump in your throat. One that’s there because of the realization you just had.

Green Eyes and Harry are the same person. 

How did I not figure this out sooner? 

“So, ya must be Y/N, huh?” he giggles, his head bent down as he helps you pick up the books. 

“Y-Yeah, surprise,” you admit, and your laugh soon joins his. Before you know it, the both of you can’t stop laughing. 

“Here,” you hear him say. Looking up, you find him standing in front of you holding his hand out for you to take. A cozy looking maroon sweater covers his upper half, and blue jeans don the rest. “Fancy meetin’ you here,” he jokes in between laughs. 

“You’re right about that,” you answer, taking his hand. He helps you to your feet where you smooth down the violet skirt of your dress. “I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots.”

“Yer not tha only one, love,” Harry comments, bending over to grab a stack of books. He begins to set one on each desk as he walks down the aisles of them. “But I s’pose there wasn’t any way t’ know.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t find you on Facebook,” you confess, cursing yourself for the slip up a few seconds later. Lifting your head from the book you just set on a desk, you find his amused eyes on you across the room. 

“Ah, so ya were stalkin’ me, were ya?” he smirks, his delightful laugh following his words. 

“No, I wasn’t! You’re just one of the only colleagues I’ve subbed for who I’ve never met, or like don’t know what they look like.”

Your small stack soon disappears and when you return to the pile at the back of the room, he does too. 

“So, what d’ya think? Are ya disappointed then?”

“No,” you say automatically, lifting your eyes to his green ones that land on you. His cheeks lined with a thick, neat beard crease with dimples as he smiles at you. 

“Neither am I . . . .  Ms. Vance Joy fan,” he returns, holding your gaze. The sincerity in his words gets under your skin, going straight to your heart. The sarcastic joke inside of them makes you giggle. 

Clearing your throat, you look away with what you’re sure are blushing cheeks. Most likely, an entire blushing face. “What are you doing here, anyways, if you were gone for the day?”

“I can’t miss me boys’ big game, a few o’ me students are on tha team. I thought I’d catch up on sum emails and grading befo’hand, but didn’t know ya’d still be here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just leaving, anyways,” you mutter, your movements stilling. 

“I didn’t mean it dat way, love. ‘m glad we finally met, it was about time, anyways,” Harry insists, and you nod before continuing to place a book at each desk. “Hey wait, you said you were short and all plain in yer note. No, yer not, ya fibber.”

“Oh like your description was any more accurate,” you scoff lightheartedly, setting down a book before grabbing another from your dwindling stack. 

His rich laugh meets your ears, and you can’t resist looking over to him. “Ya didn’t give yerself enough credit, ya know,” he almost coos, and you swear your heart melted into a puddle right then and there. That’s if it hadn’t done so already when you realized he’s Green Eyes. Swoon. 

It’s hard to hold back the excitement curling at the edge of your lips. Soon, you run out of books again and when you take a peek at him, so has he. 

“Were ya gonna go?” he questions, and you deal him one when you look at him confused. “T’ tha game, I mean.”

Your body feels like jello, and that any move you make would be sloppy. Embarrassing. That’s the last thing you want to look like in front of him. With his dazzling smile, adorably dimpled cheeks, and the cozy vibes he’s giving off. Not to mention, the clean citrus scent wafting off of him. A smell you certainly would be okay with smelling for hours on end. If only. 

“Well bloody Rob around tha corner bailed on me, so I have an extra ticket now. Would ya like t’ join me? I was thinkin’ o’ grabbin’ a sub from ‘round tha corner befo’. Concession food ‘s always too expensive, and never worth tha lines at halftime,” Harry suggests, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. One corner of his mouth climbs up his cheek, making you feel like maybe you’re not alone in these jumbled feelings. Or in the fun you’ve had carrying on this blind relationship with him. 

“Yeah, that sounds like fun. Maybe we could get to know each other a little better than the few words Post-It notes can hold.”

Slowly, the other corner of his lips curls upwards, making the dimple fall into his cheek once again. Nodding, his lips split into a full-fledged smile, singing with a chuckle. “I’d really like that,” he reveals before venturing to the door and shutting off the light. Extending an arm, he waves a hand towards himself.

“Hold on, let me get my things.”

“No rush. ’s not like ‘ve waited seven months fer dis or anythin’,” he quips. By now, you’re certain your face resembles a tomato. You hope that in the muted light, perhaps he won’t notice. 

Hurriedly, you slip on your light coat and drape your bag over your shoulder. Your eyes catch something as you’re tucking your phone in your pocket. Grabbing one last thing, you turn to find him watching you from the lit doorway. 

“What?” he wonders aloud, still with that smile etched onto his face. One you’re fairly sure you could get used to seeing. 

“Here,” you tell him, placing the Post-It note in his palm. His fingers dotted with dark hairs brush against you, just for a second longer than need be. 

“Ah, can’t forget dis now. Important stuff here.”

“Indeed,” you note, stifling a laugh as the sarcasm floats in the air. 

You observe his eyes flit across the paper holding your cursive as your steps echo down the empty hallway. 

“Hmmm, funny. It says ‘would you like to meet up sometime’ on here,” Harry reads, casting his twinkling eyes to you. Green eyes. “I was jus’ ‘bout t’ ask ya tha same thing on me next note. But I had sumthin’ that woulda took tha cake fer sure.”

“What’s that?” you remark, wondering how that could be. Those thoughts fly out the window when you feel his arm come around your shoulder. A squeal sounds inside of your head, but hey, at least that’s far less embarrassing than doing it out loud. 

“I was gonna tell ya dat Tracy across tha hall from me ‘s leavin’ afta dis year, and I may have recommended a certain sumbody t’ tha principal t’ replace her,” Harry hums, a knowing glint dancing in his eyes as they hover over you. “What d’ya say t’ bein’ colleagues instead o’ bein’ me sub?”

“I think I could get used to that,” you answer, letting your smile take over your entire face.

“So could I, love. So could I.” 

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #writing #your name #blurb #oneshot #harry styles #one direction #one direction x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles concept #wattpad #narrymccartney #narrymccartney writes

[utterlyinevitable]

Hurricane (Part 4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Word Count: 2.1k Warning: Small bit of cussing Summary: A hurricane is falling over Boston. Edenbrook has been evacuated and some very different doctor’s end up seeking shelter together.  

A/N: This series was inspired by an anon prompt request for “protection”. I hope I did it justice! This is a multi part story.  ALSO I love Gatsby and Fitzgerald and so self-indulgent in this chapter 🤣

________________________________________

Once Becca and Ethan brought order back to Naveen’s kitchen, she bounded back into the dining room with a bottle of pinot noir in each hand for them all to share much to everyone’s elation. Ethan hung back during the first bottle, opting to gather blankets and towels for the guests. 

The group of gossips played card games and continued letting the conversation flow as freely as Naveen’s hand. Running out of hospitable things to keep him occupied, Ethan poured himself a generous glass and observed the people around him. With much convincing from the group he eventually gave in to the pressure and joined the game of ‘Bullshit’. When that got boring they moved rooms in the name of tranquil comfort. 

They all sat in the living room watching Baz Luhrmann’s The Great Gatsby as the storm raged on outside. Naveen was quick to make sure everyone had copious amounts of wine and cheese before retiring to bed. Without the scrutiny of his father figure Ethan felt he could be a little more carefree. 

Under the cover of darkness Ethan let himself drape his arm behind Becca against the back of the love-seat, making sure to keep his touch a distance away, the soft cushions dipped under the weight of his muscle. She felt the warmth of his presence along the base of her neck. The short invisible hairs stood up at the electricity emitting off him, igniting her senses in the best possible way. Becca smiled to herself, moving a bit closer to him so their sides were completely touching. She leaned into him just enough that the fabric of their clothes were pressed flat against the other.  

Her eyes darted around the dark cabin. Elijah had moved from his wheelchair and to the edge of the three-seater sofa. Sienna sat next to him in the middle and was now lounging out over Naveen’s deserted seat with a throw pillow cuddled deep in her small embrace. 

The coast was clear. Everyone was too engrossed in the film to pay any mind to the diagnosticians on their left. 

Boldly, Becca rested her head gingerly on the curve of Ethan’s shoulder. Her friends were none the wiser. 

Pushing their luck a bit further Ethan slid his arm closer to her shoulder blades. She reciprocated their game by placing a hand carefully on his muscular thigh. 

Ethan’s enchanting blue eyes did their own quick survey of the scene to make sure Sienna and Elijah were still oblivious. When he was certain her friends were too caught up on the imagery, Ethan cupped his free hand over hers. The corner of Becca’s lips noticeably perked as she laced their fingers together. 

“I love this story,” she whispered into his ear. 

“Why? It’s a tragedy. There is not one likable character in the whole plot,” he whispered back.  

“That’s what makes it so compelling. They’re flawed and real.” 

Before Ethan could rebuke, her favorite line was about to be said. 

“Gatsby? What Gatsby?” she mimicked looking over to Ethan. 

Her eyes held the same adoration reflecting from Daisy Buchanan’s character. It was hopeless and all-consuming, fiery and full of… something Ethan couldn’t place. All he knew was when that line fell delicately off her tongue he couldn’t help but parallel the feeling of him and Becca being the only two people in the universe. Ethan had that smile - that one smile reserved only for her. That one smile full of eternal reassurance and pride, making it as if his whole world revolved around her in that soulful moment. A glimpse into who Ethan was and not who Dr. Ramsey needed to be.  

Becca was mere inches away. One movement and it would all be over. Her eyes flickered down to his lips and back to the large television screen, ever so enchanted by the modern classic playing out before them. Ethan was thankful for her lack of focus. He let out the breath he was holding in he held onto her hand just a bit tighter. 

As the evening passed on Ethan let himself fall a bit more into comfort. 

For a brief moment he thought maybe, just maybe, everything could be this simple. They could be together and the people in their lives could all know, and no one would care. No careers could be in turmoil by the mere mention of their romantic relationship. 

No politics. Just love. 

Unfortunately, that’s not how the world works. 

Ethan was far too well-versed in cynicism to let himself fall any further than this moment. Holding hands in the darkness was all they could ever have with others around. He let the moment last, trusting her word that her friends wouldn’t destroy their ephemeral happiness. 

No, that was destined for them. 

Once the credit scene began to roll Sienna was the first to disturb the peace. 

“Come on I think it’s time for bed,” she sat up and tapped a dozing Elijah on the shoulder. 

Sienna dared to glance over at the love-seat - doing a double take to make sure it was really, truly happening before her very eyes. There in the warm glow cascading off the television was Becca curled up against Dr. Ramsey. Ethan was cradling her against him with his right arm securely at her waist as his left held up a book. He began reading the closest literature he could find towards the end of the film when he was sure Becca was asleep and wouldn’t castrate him. Neither diagnostician made an attempt to move. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Elijah agreed, lazily moving back into his chair while Sienna made sure to put the pillow back where she found it. “Night Becca, Dr. Ramsey,” he called as Sienna wheeled him to their room for the next few days.  

“Goodnight, Dr. Greene. Trinh,” Ethan acknowledged without breaking focus on his book. 

Once the friends were safely in their room with a click of the door Ethan began to migrate, casting the book aside and reaching for the remote on Becca’s armrest to shut the television off. 

“No,” she whined as his small motions rock her gently to disturb her slumber. 

With a smirk Ethan scoffed, “You’re basically asleep.”

Becca grumbled back as she threw her arms over her eyes, “I don’t care.” 

Ethan took the challenge and swiftly rose to his feet. Becca’s cheek immediately met the crater in the cushion as she flopped down without her supporter. 

“Hey!” her objection was partially muffled by the old paisley printed cushion.  

Ethan couldn’t help but chuckle at his resident. Her legs were still awkwardly folded under herself and he’d imagine they’d at least be tingly with pins and needles by now, she still had her jeans on and her top exposed the pale skin of her midriff, and her brown locks were wildly strewn about. With a bemused shake of his head he brought the remainder of the dishes into the kitchen. 

When he came back Becca hadn’t moved an inch, her body still lolled to the side where he was previously sat. 

In four long strides Ethan was back in front of her. Becca heard his shallow footsteps yet was too comfortable to acknowledge his presence. Suddenly the couch flew out of under her and Becca was in free fall. Before she could open her eyes taut muscle and bone made contact with her rib-cage. 

Ethan had slung her over his shoulder. 

“Ethan!” she hissed. Normally Becca would appreciate the delicious view of this new position however the generous amount of wine mixed with the blood rushing to her head was not working in her favor.  

“Shush, you’ll wake everyone up.” Becca’s bottom jiggled from Ethan’s playful smack. 

She argued back, “You woke me up!”  

“It was that or have a stiff neck tomorrow,” Ethan began to rationalize as he took each step carefully so as to not to lose his balance. “And I’m not dealing with your complaints.”

Naveen’s master bedroom was large with glorious vaulted ceilings and exposed wooden beams. It was much too big for one person. Keeping with the cabin theme, the bed was wooden with four tall posts, the outer wall was lined with windows looking out over the river, and the adjoining bathroom led right into a modest yet bare walk-in closet. 

Ethan placed Becca down on the soft springform mattress conscientiously. She reveled in the waft of cinnamon and cedar of the quilt and deep red cotton sheets. Becca appreciated how Naveen also had an affinity for pillows - four medium firm and two down were waiting patiently for her noggin. Becca was too enticed by sleep to rummage for pajamas in her bag. Instead she began to unbutton her jeans haphazardly from her horizontal position. 

Ethan watched as she fumbled continuously, not quite grasping the button enough to pop it through the hole. After the fourth try he swatted her hands away, taking the reins. Ethan expertly flicked the button, dragged the zipper down and freed Becca’s legs from the thick day-ridden material. She sighed as the cool air met her clean-shaven skin. Her toes then hooked and flicked off her socks while she sat up and pulled her shirt off.  

 Sitting cross-legged on top of the duvet in just her nude bra and purple lace panties she asked, “Staying or going?” 

Her jeans were now folded on top of the wardrobe where Ethan stood with a cocked eyebrow, “What do you think?”

BOOM! 

A close clack of thunder rattled the wood causing them both to jump. 

CLACK! 

TSS

“Fuck!” she screamed in exasperation as quietly as she could. “Do you think a tree fell?” 

“Rookie, are you scared?” 

“No. I’ve been through loads of hurricanes,” she asserted, moving up the bed to crawl safely under the covers. “There's just a lot of wood around here. One wrong bolt and we’re all up in flames.” 

Ethan perched himself at the edge of the bed next to her nearly nude form. “I highly doubt that will happen.” 

“But it could happen.” 

“Theoretically.”

The covers sat around Becca’s waist. Her supple curves of her exposed breasts called to him. Ethan began to reach for her but the rational doctor did all he could to stop himself from caressing the addictive skin. Instead his hand rested on her inner thigh, just the thin duvet separating their warmth. Her hair was a frizzy halo around her rounded face and her lips stained deep indigo from all the red wine. And yet she was still - always, so beautiful. 

She watched as his eyes trail over her and his chest rose and fell a tad quicker.   

“You should stay. I know you want to.” 

“You know I can’t.” 

“You know they already think we’re dating anyway.” 

Ethan was taken aback at the brazen accusation but not enough to remove his hold on her, “We are doing what?” Instinctively his calloused fingers tightened their grip slightly. 

“Don’t look so surprised,” she all but rolled her eyes at his idiocy. After a beat, her brown eyes fixated on his expert hand, she added, “Ethan… are you single?” 

Her small voice was full of shaken vulnerability. She yanked the covers up higher, releasing his hold on her, and curled herself further into them, shielding herself from his answer. Or lack thereof, there were too many seconds hanging in the space between them.  

He reached out to tuck a few strands behind her ear. The wait was killing her. 

“No… I’m not.” 

Those words. Becca felt like the air had been stolen from her lungs. How long had she been waiting to hear them? How long has she been hoping Ethan Ramsey would commit to only her with a promise of forever? She couldn’t recall anything other than him at this moment moving in closer to her. Their noses brushed every so slightly, his affirming and hopeful words lingering warm against her flushed cheeks. 

“Stay,” she breathed. 

The way she was imploring him could crumble the Great Wall of China. Every ounce of Ethan’s resolve came crumbling down as he finally admitted his feelings to the universe. He thought she knew by now how he was irrevocably hers without words needing to be shared. Dr. Ethan Ramsey would continue living a solitary life until he could freely be able to love Dr. Rebecca Lao and without fear of completely destroying her bright future. 

Ethan wanted so badly to dive into the covers with her and never come back up - her sweet embrace was all the sustenance he needed to survive. But the little voice in the back of his head told him not to cut the line just yet.  

“Only until you fall asleep,” he agreed. “Wouldn’t want Naveen thinking we were being indecent in his bed. He’d never let me hear the end of it.” 

________________________________________

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#open heart #open heart fanfic #choices open heart #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #choices fanfic #choices oph2 #ohsy #oph2 #oh #choices oh #oph #oph ff #ff #sienna trinh #naveen banerji #elijah greene

[fics-for-my-heart]

Newbie (s.s)

Summary: Starting a new school with the ability to see that someone is supernatural takes a crazy turn

Word count:4069

Warning: talk of people dying, typical teen wolf stuff

A/N: I was going to put this all in one part but I think it’s going to be too long. So here’s part one. I might make it a series? There’s not too much romance in this but I definitely plan to make it happen soon. Let me know what you think. Also I’ve been watching Buffy which was why it was included in this.

Part Two

Masterlist

Starting a new school always sucked. But, starting a new school with the knowledge of the supernatural you had seemed to make it worse. Plus, your ability to see when someone was supernatural made things a bit awkward. Each supernatural gave off their own color, like an aura, and that’s what you could see. There was a good amount of supernaturals in your old town, but as you walked the streets of Beacon Hills you realized there were so many more. 

“Have a good day sweetie.” Your mom said as you shut the car door. “Don’t let your sight get in your way. Make some friends.” 

“I’ll try. Love you.” 

“Love you! I’ll be at the shop if you need me.” Then she was gone, leaving you to watch everyone running around to get to friends or to class. 

After checking in at the front office, the secretary, Mrs. Elle, took you to your first class. “Mrs. Hopkins is a wonderful English teacher. If you need any help throughout the day come see me.” She knocked on the door, then opened it to a room full of people, the teacher was at the board. A beautiful purple glow surrounded her. 

Fairy. 

“Mrs. Hopkins, this is Y/N Y/L/N. She just transferred here.”

Mrs. Hopkins gave a bright smile, walking over to shake your hand. “Lovely to meet you. We are just starting on The Great Gatsby. There’s only a few seats left but you can pick wherever you want.” She handed you a copy of the book, then spoke to Mrs. Elle. 

When you looked up at the room, only a handful of people were looking at you, others were texting or reading. Your eyes scanned the seats, spotting one before the color around the boy beside it caught your eye. 

Your brows furrowed. Since coming here you’d seen many colors you hadn’t categorized yet. But this one was different. It was deep purple, with black and red, and even some blues and greens. Normally there was one color, just different shades. Never this many. 

The boy cocked his head to the side and you jumped a bit, realizing you’d been staring. With your head low, you made your way to the seat, feeling his eyes on you the entire time. To distract yourself, you plotted your classes on the little map, and when the bell rang you booked it out of the room. 

The rest of the day was as good as any first day. Lots of stuff to catch up on, lots of new colors to try and match with a supernatural. But the boy from English took up most of your mind. Why did he have so many colors? 

Your mind was racing as the school day drew to a close. The sun on your face felt so nice, and the calm breeze helped slow everything down. It gave you a moment of peace as you scanned the lot for your moms car. Then you saw him. He was at a table with two baby blues, a teal, and a scarlet. They looked like they were in deep conversation. 

There was this weird pull in your gut, and before you could stop yourself you were walking toward them. 

“It’s only taking their skin. Why?” The older looking baby blue said, he looked stressed. They all did. 

The scarlet was running her fingers down a book, biting her lip. 

The teal shrugged. “Maybe it just likes to eat the skin?” 

Little baby blue just stared at her like she was nuts before big baby blue spoke up. “If it did we wouldn’t be finding discarded skin near the freshly skinned bodies.”

Your heart stopped. No. There’s no way. 

“None of them look eaten, and the skin only has a line down their back. It doesn’t make sense. Stiles, has your dad said anything?” 

The boy from English, Stiles, spoke up. “Not really. He said they seemed to have some type of film on them. Like they had been preserved in something.” 

“Skincrawler.” You whispered, your heart pounding in your ears. 

“Y/N?” Stiles asked. They were all looking at you as your eyes widened. 

“I..uh.” You cleared your throat and tried to steady your breath. “Do they have a stab mark at the base of their neck.” They nodded and you were suddenly light headed. 

“Shit,” Stiles jumped up, gently pushing you into his seat. “Guys this is Y/N. She’s in my English class.” 

“What did you call this thing?” Scarlet asked. They were all still looking at you like you were crazy. 

“A skincrawler.” You rubbed your face. “They kill someone and wear their skin.” 

“Fuck.” Little baby blue whispered.

You shook your head. “You’re all safe. They don’t go after other supernaturals.” That earned you an even weirder set of looks. “You two are werewolves.” You nodded at the baby blues. “You’re part werewolf, part something else.” You nodded to teal. “And I’m not sure what you two are.” You said to scarlet and Stiles. 

None of them spoke for a minute. Then big baby blue extended his hand. “I’m Scott McCall.” His eyes were red, such a contrast to his coloring. 

“You’re an alpha.” You shook his hand and he cocked a brow. “I can see your true eyes.” 

His hand slipped from yours, replaced with little baby blue, Liam, then teal, Malia. Scarlets name was Lydia. Then Stiles shook your hand, his grip was firm, and he held it while he spoke. “How did you know what they are?”

“Each supernatural has its own aura, my family is what they call True Seers. I can see the auras around you, and your true eyes. I’m the first in almost a decade so I’m pretty much learning on my own. Which is why I’m not able to identify yours.” You glanced at Stiles, Lydia, and Malia. 

“I’m a Banshee.” Lydia gave you a soft smile then looked back to the book. 

“Werecoyote.” Malia supplied with a shrug. “Both my parents tried to kill me so don’t ask.” 

You looked up at Stiles but he shook his head. “Just your average human here. Which doesn’t seem like a good thing with these skin guys walking around.” 

It didn’t make sense that he wasn’t a supernatural, but there were more pressing things to address. 

“Are these like the skinwalkers? Because I’ve seen them and I don’t think they would do this.” Scott questioned, turning to look at you. 

You shook your head. “No. Walkers are non threatening. The crawlers, as you can tell, aren’t. And they are hard to locate. When they stab the person, not only does it kill them, but it seems to transfer all their memories. So even though it’s still the monster inside. It looks and has the same mannerisms as the person it killed.” 

“How do we stop it?” Malia asked, she looked ready for a fight. 

A shudder ran down your body at the memory of when you last saw this creature. “It’s not easy. First you have to know how many there are. They are stronger packs. Then you have to find out where they are staying. But even harder you have to find out who they are wearing.”

Scott rubbed his face, everyone was looking at him, waiting for his directions. “We need Derick and Argent. Maybe Parish too.” 

“I’ll go to the library and see if I can find anything out.” Lydia said, having no luck with the current book. “Where are we meeting?” 

“The loft, at seven.” Scott turned to you. “Would you come? You seem to know more about them than we do. We could use your help.” 

You glanced around at them. A group of friends who were closer than close. Had clearly been through a lot. “Yeah. Yeah. Just give me the address.” 

“I can pick you up.” Stiles said quickly, stumbling over his words when everyone turned to him. “I mean. It’s kinda hard to get to that first time. It would be easier for someone to give you a ride.” His ears turned pink as Lydia and Malia shared a look. Scott was trying to hold his grin. But Liam was flat out laughing at him. 

Before you could respond a horn honked, followed by your mom calling your name. “Here.” You tore a piece of paper and quickly wrote your address and number down. “Just let me know when you get there.”

As you walked away you could hear the low voices talking at once followed by Stiles. “You guys suck I’m going home.” 

—

You shared everything with your mom on the way home. Even though she wasn’t a true seer, everyone in her family got trained in case it appeared later in life. 

“So this true alpha has a mixed pack?” She asked, dropping the box of books on the table. 

“Yes. There’s definitely a lot of stuff they have been through. I could feel how strong their connection was.” You started thumbing through the first book, your mom following suit with her own. 

“And this Stiles boy, he said he wasn’t supernatural?” 

“Yeah. I can’t even begin to explain the way the colors were around him. It was like someone spilled a bunch of paint. Very chaotic.” You closed the book, having no luck. “I don’t think the book is in here. I think it’s with Buffy.” 

Your mother examined the books, then nodded. “I think so. I’ll give her a call. But you should probably go get it tonight if she has it.”

“Can I take the car?” You asked, slightly excited about getting to go see someone who was pretty much your Aunt but you get to drive. 

Your mom nodded. But before you could say anything your phone vibrated 

  Maybe Stiles: Y/N? It’s Stiles. I’m outside. I think. 

  You: Okay, I'll be out in a sec. 

"Stiles is here." You told your mom as you slipped into your jacket. "Just have Buffy text me if she has the box." You gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Love you."

She opened another book. "I will. I'll also keep looking and see if I can find anything. I know there was something in one of the books last time, I just have to remember which one. And I love you too. Be safe."

You slipped your bad over your shoulder and headed out where a blue jeep was waiting. Stiles was in the front seat tapping his fingers and singing to whatever was playing. He was wearing a maroon lacrosse hoodie and his hair looked more disheveled than it did at school. His tapping stopped when you opened the door and Should I Stay or Should I Go was playing. His voice died off as he looked at you standing in the door. 

"The Clash? Good choice." You said as the song came to an end, and a new one began. "Oh, and Fleetwood Mac?"

Stiles shrugged, taking your bag for you as you climbed in. "Can never go wrong with some classic rock." 

"That is very true. I think I might like you a bit now Stiles." His colors were dimmer than they had been at school, which was normal, the sun always made them brighter. They were much less distracting this way too. "So, is there anything I should know before we get to this mystery loft?"

"There's a lot you should know. But the drive isn't long enough for everything, so I'll give you the rundown." He pulled the jeep from the curb and started talking. 

He told you who Derek, Argent, and Parrish were and how Scott and Liam turned. But that was about as much as he could get in before pulling into the parking lot of what looked like an abandoned warehouse. So many questions were running through your mind as you looked up at the building. "Funny, a werewolf living in a warehouse."

Stiles laughed, then nodded to the door. "I swear the loft is so much better inside." 

He was right. When he pulled open the huge metal door it revealed a beautiful open space full of natural light and people. Four you had already met, three you had names for but not faces. 

Scott was quick to introduce you to the other three. Derek was obviously a werewolf with his baby blue coloring that matched his eyes. Jordan Parrish was the first human hellhound you've met, and his color was exactly like fire. 

Argent was the only one without a color. "A True Seer?" He asked, shaking your hand. "I've only met one other person with that ability. Welcome to Beacon. Scott said you knew something about these things?" 

"We fought a group of them when I lived in Sunnydale. I know we had some literature on them, my mom is looking through our books, but I think I think they might have gotten left at my Aunt's house. Once I know though I’m heading there to get them.”

Argent nodded, then pointed to the map. “We have a rough pattern. And based on the bodies I think we might be dealing with just one.” 

“What do you know about the people who have been killed?” You asked, noting the four red circles on the map that seemed to form a shape. 

“Not a lot.” Parrish spoke up, opening a file. “All different ages. Different builds. There doesn’t seem to be a pattern here. But we are still searching through their backgrounds. So far the only possibility is they knew each other or went to the local church.” 

You nodded. “They liked to go after people who knew each other. How often are bodies turning up?”

“Every two weeks or so. The last one was the day before yesterday.” Stiles answered, your phone buzzed. 

  Buffy: The books are here. Fill me in on what’s happening. 

  You: I’m coming to you. Be there soon. 

“My Aunt has the books. Is it okay if I take a picture of this? I think I can get some extra help.” You asked nodding to the map. 

"Yeah. The more help we can get the better." Argent said, stepping back as you angled your phone for a picture. 

"Is there anyone missing from the school?" Derek asked, looking at the others. 

Lydia shrugged. "Not sure yet. There were a few people out today, but they could have just been normal reasons. I'm keeping an eye on everything." 

"We couldn't get a scent from the body." Malia added, giving a shudder. "I think I might have nightmares for weeks."

“I didn’t see anyone there with the color for them. It’s kind of a deep grey color. Even when they switch skins the color is still there.” You looked at Stiles, his brows were pinched and he was working his thumb with his teeth as he looked at the map. "Hey," you whispered as the others discussed the body. "Could you drive me home. Buffy has the books so I need to get to Sunnydale." 

His brown eyes met yours, the concentration making him look adorable. "Huh? Oh, yeah." He looked up at the others. "Guys, I'm going to take Y/N home so she can go get the books." 

After some quick goodbyes the two of you made your way back to the jeep. 

"If you want, I can take you there?" Stiles said, his hand was rubbing at the back of his neck. 

You stopped and looked at him. "To Sunnydale?" 

"Yeah. It's late, and well, I'd feel safer away from here." He shrugged. "Plus it's late." 

"You said that." You laughed. "If you want to drive me that's alright." 

"Awesome." He jumped in the jeep, waited for you to get in and buckled, then looked over at you. "So, how do I get to Sunnydale?"

------

"Okay, wait. Like, a full, legit deadpool?" The two of you were almost there, and Stiles had started filling you in on everything they had experienced. 

"Yes. That's how we found out that Parrish was supernatural. He was on the list. Peter, is the one who put the list out. He used another banshee to set it all up."

"So, if I ever meet Peter can I punch him?" Even though you'd just met this group you felt oddly protective of them.

"He is kinda neutral right now, but honestly, go for it." He winked at you. "So is there anything I should know before we get there?"

"Well, yes. Buffy isn't really my aunt, but she feels like one. She's the slayer. Spike might be there, he's a vampire. Willow, she's like my other aunt, she's a witch." Excitement started building as you saw the sign for the exit.

He was silent for a moment, then he said slowly. "Vampire?"

"He won't try anything. He knows I can take him, but also he's fairly harmless." 

Stiles rubbed his lips. "Vampire." 

"Yes. Turn left up here." You said. He followed your directions, eventually pulling in front of the house you spent much of your childhood. "You okay?"

"Uh. Yeah. I'm still processing I think." 

You placed your hand on his arm. "I promise you it'll be fine. But if you want, you can stay in the car." 

He shook his head, removing the keys. "Lets go." 

All the lights were on as you made your way to the house, Spike was standing in the open door. 

"Hello, Little Bit." His British accent was familiar and a sudden wave of homesickness hit you. 

You ignored it though, rolling our eyes. "Shut it you loof. The skin crawlers are back, we don't have time for your shit." 

He placed a hand on his chest. "Your words wound, missy." His eyes traveled behind you. "Who's the bloke?"

"Spike, Stiles. Stiles, Spike.” You pointed at Spike. "Be nice."  You grabbed Stiles' hand and led him into the house, avoiding Spike's attempt to ruffle your hair. The others were already waiting in the dining room. 

You quickly introduced Stiles to everyone. Then jumped right into what you knew. 

“I went by the crypt.” Spike said after you’d told them the last of the information. “It didn’t look like anything escaped. Place is still rubble.”

“Wait.” Stiles leaned his elbows on the table.  “How exactly did you guys kill these things last time?”

“Blew them up.” Willow shrugged, flipping through a book. 

Stiles fell back into his chair and looked at you. “Blew them up?” 

“Buf has army connections so we were able to… acquire some top grade stuff.” You told him. You could tell he was trying to process all of this, he was really cute. 

“Argent might have some connections.” He nodded as if he was coming up with a plan. 

You let him be and flipped open a book, your heart immediately stopping. Before saying anything you looked back at one of the pictures you had taken. 

“Shit. Shit shit shit.” You dragged your finger down the page as you read. “This is bad.” Everyone was looking at you as you pointed to the diagram in the book. “A resurrection ritual.”

“Bloody hell.” Spike said, jumping from his chair, heading straight to the little bar table. 

Willow paled, pulling the book to her and muttered something under her breath. 

“Uh. That doesn’t seem like a good thing.” Stiles said. 

You turned to him, your heart was pounding. “The skincrawler is doing a resurrection ritual. Basically it’s trying to bring something back from the dead. Probably the ones we killed.” 

“Okay that sounds really bad.” 

“It says here it has to make five sacrifices around a power source.” Willow said. “But it’s not doing it over the Hellmouth so what’s in Beacon Hills?” She looked over at Stiles. You opened the picture of the map, examining it closer, trying to find the pattern. 

“The Nemeton.” He whispered, struggling to get his phone out of his pocket. After pressing around there was the trill of a call. 

“Stiles? It’s late.” Argents' gruff voice filled the room. 

“I know I know. Listen. I need you to go to that map. I need you to go to it and tell me what’s in the middle of those points.”

“A star!” You shouted. “They need five points. There are four on here. If you trace a star you can find the next dump site and the middle.” 

There was rustling on the phone, then, “Shit.” 

“It’s The Nemeton isn’t it?” 

“Yeah. It’s The Nemeton.” There was some more noise from the other side of the phone. “I’ve got a rough guess where the next dump site will be. I’ll tell the others.” 

“So The Nemeton is a real thing?” Willow asked, amazement all over her face. 

You raised your hand. “Excuse me, what is that?” 

“Short version? A supernatural ritual site created by Druids. It’s what makes Beacon Hills a beacon for the supernatural.” 

“I thought they were a myth.” Willows eyes were dazed as she zoned out. 

“So you’re telling me I moved from the demon hotspot Hellmouth to the literal beacon for the supernatural? Unbelievable.” 

"It's very real. Sometime I'll tell you the story of how it awoke and got so much power. But right now we need to get back." He looked incredibly worried. 

"It's late." Buffy said, she and Spike had been talking in the corner quietly. "You guys should stay here and sleep for a few hours before driving back."

Spike nodded. "I agree, Little Bit. There's still a few days till you should really worry. Sleep a bit and head out at sunrise."

As he spoke, you could feel the exhaustion suddenly weighing on your body. "He's right. Let the others scope out some stuff while we catch some shut eye." 

"Your room is still made up. Go sleep and I'll make you guys breakfast in the morning." 

You nodded, and silently led Stiles up the steps. He’d been quiet, worry was all over his face. He sat down in the desk chair, lip between his teeth. 

“They will be okay.” You said softly, moving the pillows off the bed. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes. We defeated them once, we can do it again. Really Argent is the only one to worry about there, he’s not a supernatural. Plus they are very time oriented. They stick to the same schedule when it comes to changing.” 

After a moment he spoke again. “Uh. Do you want me to sleep on the floor?” 

There wasn’t much space in the small room so you shook your head. “You can sleep in the bed. You’re driving so better rest is safer.”

The two of you were quiet as you took turns in the bathroom, then getting situated in the bed. 

“Ya know,” you said after a few minutes in the dark. “If you had told me that on my first day of another new school I’d meet more supernaturals, find out the skincrawlers are back, and share a bed with a guy I just met that morning. I’d think you were crazy.” 

“I’ve learned to just ride out the crazy. Trust me, it’s easier to do that than to try and fight it.” His head turned toward you, voice  just above a whisper. “Why did you seem so freaked about the skincrawlers?”

You were suddenly very thankful for the dark. “They got one of my best friends. It was how we found out about them actually. She went missing for a day or so and when she came back she had this Grey color around her that hadn’t been there before. And her eyes seemed empty. Like everything about her was still her. But her eyes.” A shudder ran through you. “It used the knowledge from her to taunt us, me. Things got ugly. The boom.” You wiped the tear off your cheek, turning to see his silhouette in the dark. “If it’s just one, and we get it before it completes the ritual, it’ll be fine.”

“I’m...I’m so sorry, Y/N.” 

“It’s fine. I have faith in us. With the information we take back, it’ll help. Let’s get some sleep though.” Even though you said it, you stayed awake long after Stiles' breath evened out. Images of your last run in with these nasty things running through your mind. There was no peaceful sleep. 

#stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles #stiles fanfiction #teen wolf #dylan obrien #dylan o'brien

[citylightsbooks]

5 Questions with Chet'la Sebree, Author of Field Study

Chet'la Sebree is the director of the Stadler Center for Poetry and Literary Arts at Bucknell University and the author of Mistress, winner of the 2018 New Issues Poetry Prize and nominated for a 2020 NAACP Image Award. Her poetry has appeared in the Kenyon Review, Guernica, Pleiades, and elsewhere.

Chet'la will be in conversation with Dantiel W. Moniz, discussing her new book Field Study (published by FSG) in our City Lights LIVE! discussion series on June 5th!

******

Where are you writing to us from?

From my birth month of May.

From the left side of a rented duplex in central PA.

From the third floor in a patterned, blue-velvet armchair across from my teal-painted desk.

And, because I didn’t finish this all at once, from the first floor enjoying the afternoon sun.

What’s kept you sane during the pandemic?

I want to be the kind of person who says exercise. I certainly spent some time on my mat and pounding the pavement, but it has really been food, wine, and fellowship that have held me together. These have always been the things that kept me sane. In grad school, I loved having people over for potluck dinners. But this sort of fellowship surrounding food took on new meaning in the pandemic. It wasn’t just that I learned how to make gluten-free pasta from scratch or placed orders for specialty wine shipments, but it was the sturdy calendar of happy hours and dinner dates kept me going. I did everything from virtual wine tastings to learning how to make injera with poet Diana Khoi Nguyen with home-ground teff to have boozy brunches and movie nights with friends from high school and college.

Right before the pandemic, I transitioned into a new job as a tenure-track professor and director of a university literary arts center and was traveling for my first book, Mistress, which meant sometimes I was in two different cities in one week, while also teaching classes and hosting events. This meant that I spent little time with my friends. Moving around less meant that I could not only reconnect but deepen relationships. Nearly every week since the beginning of the pandemic, I’ve been meeting with prose writers Dantiel W. Moniz and María Isabel Álvarez—both of whom I’d met at a writing residency in 2017. Our first Zoom was an attempt to heal the wound of not seeing each other at a March 2020 conference. What started as a conversation, led to salons, led to work sessions, led to us planning for our own future residencies. We’ve cried; we’ve rooted each other on; we’ve held each other accountable. They kept me going through the last rounds of writing and editing Field Study, and I can’t wait to talk to Dantiel about it on June 5th!

What books are you reading right now? Which books do you return to?

Right now, I’m primarily reading emails and my students’ final portfolios, but I’m so excited for the pleasure reading this summer will bring. When I can sneak a moment, though, I am toggling between three books: Felicia Zamora’s newest collection I Always Carry My Bones; Nana Nkweti’s brand neew Walking on Cowrie Shells; and Philip Pullman’s The Subtle Knife. That last one is a reread; I first read the His Dark Materials series in high school. I often return to books I read in those pre-college years—fantasy and sci-fi novels like Ender’s Game but also Toni Morison’s The Bluest Eye, Jean Rhys’s Wide Sargasso Sea, and F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby. I like thinking about who I’ve become since first reading them.

The book I would say I return to the most, however, is probably Audre Lorde’s Sister Outsider, or maybe even just specific essays in it: “Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power,” “The Uses of Anger: Women Responding to Racism,” and “The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House.”

Which writers, artists, and others influence your work in general, and this book, specifically?

I’m such a sponge, which is part of what made writing Field Study so fun. The patchwork style of quotes interwoven with my own language gave me a space to name names of those that influenced me. It gave me the chance to be in conversation with literary legends and thinkers like Audre Lorde, bell hooks, Tressie McMillan Cottom, and Maya Angelou, while also calling on my brother, best friend, and cousin for insight.

I’m inspired by visual artists like Georgia O’Keefe, Nekisha Durrett, Alison Saar, Carrie Mae Weems, Stephanie J. Williams, and Deborah Willis, but I’m also inspired by theatre, films, dance, television. Who knows what Field Study would be if it weren’t for the TV adaptation of Sally Rooney’s Normal People that came out in April 2020. I am an early-to-bed person, but I finished watching the series at around 11:45pm, got out of bed, and worked on Field Study until 7am. Then, I slept for four hours, got up, and worked for the rest of the day. In watching that well-orchestrated chaos and intimacy, I was taken back to my early twenties, on which Field Study is loosely based. That’s how I work—something gets me in my guts, as poet E.G. Asher would say, and I find my way into the work. It could be a good show, Max Richter’s recomposed Vivaldi, or a nice food and wine paring that gets me going.

I also wrote to an erratic playlist that’s also representative of the diversity of conversations in Field Study. The music included everything from Foo Fighters and Paramore to Erykah Badu and Lauryn Hill to Henryk Górecki and Sol Rising.

If you opened a bookstore, where would it be located, what would it be called, and what would your bestseller be?

My bookstore, URGE, would double as an integrative wellness center with a mind / body / spirit focus. We’re talking incenses and essential oils along with your book of the month picks. There’d be two locations: one on Whidbey Island, where I finished my first book Mistress, and laid the groundwork for Field Study; and the other in DC, which still calls to me even though I moved from the city seven years ago.

My bestsellers would be a tie between anything Audre Lorde (probably not surprising) and anything Bob’s Burgers-related, since my inner circle would know I got the name of the bookstore from the show’s Season 11’s Valentine’s episode: “Romancing the Beef.”

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