#was because it didn’t feel like closure AT ALL and no one was buying that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

minustwofingers · 10 months

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exoplanet p.6 (ellie’s journals)

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

warnings: a significantly different writing voice! this is going to be a very different vibe from the other chapters since i had to write it as i imagine ellie would (which is a lot different than i do). slight nsfw content (mdni), language, mentions of violence/gore, angst, ellie’s pov is actually really depressing

a/n: soooo i know it’s been almost 3 months...and i’m really sorry about that! a lot of stuff happened in my life and i kind of fell off writing for quite some time. but i finish series, so i’m going to get through exoplanet in its entirety so i can finally give you all closure. some preliminary notes: know that these are modeled after how i imagine ellie would journal if she did journal this much. canonically she didn’t do that much writing that follows a narrative like it does here. i think it’s honestly a little ooc for her to be emotionally responsible enough to talk out her feelings, but given that there’s no other way to tell her side of the story (save for legit rewriting it from her perspective, which would take another 6 months or so and be horrifically repetitive), i decided to just suck it up and write it. i’m sorry if it sounds awkward, since she definitely doesn’t write in a voice that i have much experience with. the next chapter will be better!

word count: 5.5k

tags~ @intrnetdoll @dazedshoon @lovecaraya @pctcr @sariyaflowr @loser-keiji @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @elliesbabygirl @pinkazelma @ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland @elliesflower @muthafuckingstargirl @elliewilliamsissubermommyoml @eviestevie-14 @quicksilversg1rl @guacala @crtcrp @overtrred28

(i haven’t updated this yet bc my tags aren’t working)

a special special SPECIAL thanks to both @roarriita and @elliesflower for being soooo sexy and betaing for me. you both are so wonderful and helped me sm in feeling good enough to post this :)

without further ado, enjoy ellie’s journals!

January 20th, 2038

Today’s been…fucking…

I don’t even know where to start. I don’t get why this sort of shit always happens to me. First it was being bit and somehow surviving. Then it was getting carted off across the country. And now some girl basically falls out of the sky, claiming that she comes from some sort of paradise up North?

I’ll spare the immediate details. I don’t think I’ll forget the basic stuff—her name, the way she looked clutching at her knees in the clearing and shaking. That stupid shirt she had on and that expensive scarf.

I still want to believe that she’s just a liar who happened to get lucky with running into us, but even without Joel vouching for her story, I don’t think I’d ever be able to buy that she’d been living in the same world as us. I’ve never met someone without scars before. I didn’t know that there were people out there who didn’t have marked up arms and faces. Or people without calluses. Did you know that hands can be totally smooth?

Anyway. Tommy says that he’ll try and reach out across the contacts he has. Joel has her living right down the hall from me in the meantime, so now I have to share my bathroom. Hopefully the Terranovan authorities are good at finding people. She takes so fucking long to shower. It’s a wonder the whole compound still has hot water.

[One page of drawings follows: Dina smiling in the snow on her horse, Joel playing his guitar]

January 25th, 2038

Maria says that they’re thinking about breeding Shimmer soon. I know she told me because that means I’ll need to ride another horse for a little until she recovers and I know that we need another generation of foals, but it still made me cringe for Shimmer’s sake. She’s too free-spirited to be a mother. She doesn’t deserve that.

I went stargazing last night. It was pretty. Lots of shooting stars. I ran into the girl while I was coming back from the meadow. She gave me a weird look, and I could tell she wanted to ask me where I’d been but kept her mouth shut. Sometimes I regret dropping off that bag of clothes. I really fucking liked that gray sweatshirt, actually. I’m not even joking. It looks weird to see it on someone else.

[Half a page of drawing follows of the night sky with labeled constellations]

February 5th, 2038

Long time no see. I’ve been pretty busy with patrols and helping Maria with securing the walls. Joel made me try some of that coffee that our new house guest brought. It was just as awful as I remembered, but he seemed happy. So one point for the space girl. I guess.

Dina’s been hanging around more. She just broke up with Jessie (yes, again). She swears that it’s for good this time, but I’m not so sure. She also talks a lot about Y/N and what little detail she’s gathered about her life back in Terranova. I thought teasing her by asking her if she had a crush on Y/N would make her talk less about it, but it just made things worse.

I miss when things were normal.

[One page of drawings follows: one of Shimmer in cross-ties, another of a girl’s face, half-finished with the face scribbled out]

February 12th, 2038

Today I’m sad. I’m in bed with that book about astronomy that Joel nabbed for me on patrol a while ago and there’s a section I wanted to read that’s completely waterlogged. It shouldn't be a surprise. It’s decades old and has survived through an apocalypse. Normally things like this don’t bug me much because I’m so used to it. Half of my Savage Starlight collection is damaged. I don’t think I’ll ever find the first book to actually complete the series, and that’s okay, because I’ve never expected anything more. But now that I know that there’s a world out there where I’d never have problems like this, stuff like this hurts. It’s so stupid. I’m lucky to be alive. Compared to what’s left of the world population, I live a much cushier life than most. But for the first time in a while, I’m wishing for more.

“Greed is the enemy of happiness” is what Maria would say if I ever said this kind of shit out loud. But is it really? Or is it just realizing what life can be?

[Half a page of a drawing of the solar system, with each planet labeled]

February 22nd, 2038

Maria let me pick the sire for Shimmer’s foal. It felt kind of gross, to be honest. I asked Maria if there was any way for Shimmer to choose and I was only sort of joking, but she just laughed anyway and patted my back. I won’t have to worry about finding a new horse for another two seasons or so, she told me. It’ll be weird not having her for a little.

She also told me that there was still no word from anyone who knew anything about Terranova. She said this to me in this placating voice, like she thought that I was going to punch a hole in the wall or something after hearing it. That seems to be common when it comes to people talking about Y/N and me. I don’t know why so many people think I don’t like her staying with us.

I don’t, by the way. Let me be clear. But I mostly feel indifferent about her now. She doesn’t bother me as much anymore, not since she started getting out of the house. I think she might be helping in the gardens, but I’ve never actually asked. We don’t talk a whole ton. I don’t think she likes me all that much.

[A drawing of Shimmer’s head poking over her stall door that takes up one page]

March 2nd, 2038

Today was finally our first nice day of the year. I would’ve enjoyed it more if the bird that lives in the tree outside my window hadn’t blown me out of bed at 4 in the fucking morning. I’m exhausted now. It’s been a long day. Joel says I need to take Y/N out on patrol soon. Why, I have no idea. Maybe he just wants me to actually befriend her or something, and I do nothing but patrols now. He can’t possibly expect her to be a good patrol partner.

Thankfully, I checked the logs when I came back. The route he wants me to cover with her has been the quietest all season. I doubt we’ll run into anything. If we do, I’ll probably be able to handle it. Hopefully.

[Half a page of doodles, mostly of nature and wildlife with the exception of a half-finished doodle of an arm clad in a fabric that drapes like silk and a hand with polished nails]

March 3rd, 2038

Many surprising things were learned today. I can’t believe it’s illegal to be gay in Terranova. Sorry. I shouldn’t laugh. It’s just—out of all the things they could be bothered by, it’s that? Really?

March 12th, 2038

I haven’t been good at journaling recently. I don’t really want to talk about why. You know why.

[Six pages of drawings, with many unfinished doodles of Y/N—including but not limited to her on her horse, her reading on the couch, and one with her sitting in what is a very loose interpretation of a classroom, taking notes]

March 13th, 2038

I will feel more normal tomorrow. Hopefully.

[Two pages of drawings, all of Y/N. One is her bent over a book, the other is her smiling up at you]

March 14th, 2038

I did something really stupid. I think I should probably just document this here so I don’t accidentally drunkenly spill it all out to Dina at the next bonfire. This is so embarrassing. I don’t get why I feel this way. It’s so stupid, you know? To feel anything towards someone who’s so…I don’t know. Different.

She gives me the weirdest looks sometimes. I can’t tell what they mean. It feels like she’s judging me. And why wouldn’t she be? I bet all the girls she spends her time around back home are just like her—perfect, orderly, pretty, proper. The day before I took her patrolling she gawked at the shorts I was wearing. It was borderline offensive. Actually, fuck that. It wasn’t borderline. It was offensive. You don’t just stare at people like that. She should know that.

Anyway, I invited her over to my room last night. Normal, right? Because we’ve been doing that a little since I took her on patrol, by the way. I’m not sure if I mentioned that before. But this time I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m…I don’t know. Creepy? Strange? Scary? She told me that she thought I was intimidating. And then I called her “untouched”, like how some old-timer devout Christian wackjob or whatever would describe virginity. It was so fucking weird of me. I don’t know what got into me, but she kept doing this thing where she kicked my foot with hers or touched my knee and it just threw me off. It took me forever to fall asleep last night—I kept replaying what I’d said to her, especially how I’d told her that she wouldn’t have made it if she were me like I was some sort of hardcore survivalist. I think I embarrassed her. I’m never doing anything like this again. I’m going to be dead sober every time I see her from now on.

I’ll stop talking about that. Y/N did come back after I’d made a fool of myself and showed me her collection of movies, so maybe it wasn’t so bad. I haven’t watched any movies since I was with Cat. When we first started dating, I’d invite her over and she’d sit right where Y/N did last night. I’m trying to not think of the implications, because it’s space girl, and she’s going home sometime soon.

[Three pages of drawings follow—some nature drawings of ferns and moths, others of Y/N with wet hair, her knees tucked up to her chin like she’d been in Ellie’s bed that night]

March 19th, 2038

It’s the Spring Equinox. That’s the first thing Y/N told me this morning when she saw me in the kitchen this morning. She gave me a mini lecture on what that meant for the planet’s axis tilt and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I already knew, since she seemed really excited to tell me.

I made a horrible discovery yesterday, by the way. Maria came up to me and told me that Tommy had decided to reach out to some of his other buddies up North to see if they had any connections to Terranova, and for the first time, I felt myself hoping that it wouldn’t work.

It’s awful. I shouldn’t be thinking like this. Even in Jackson, where things are comparatively much better than the rest of the world, there’s risk. Just this winter, one family had to be kicked out when they were found hiding an infected son. No one here is completely safe, just safer. I shouldn’t be selfish. Y/N needs to go where she’s meant to be, where there’s no chance of infection or invasion. I’ll be fine. I just need to get over whatever this is.

Speaking of her, I need to go get her to tell her that we’re heading out on patrol in just a few minutes. Fingers crossed she doesn’t accidentally shoot me, but Joel swore up and down that she knows how to handle a gun now. Sure. Haha.

I’m back. It’s the middle of the night and she only just left my room. I don’t know how much detail I need to go into—chances are I won’t forget this. But for bookkeeping purposes: patrol did not go so hot. I had to give her stitches without any local anesthesia. I’ve never given stitches to anyone nearly in my lap before. I was really nervous, too. I don’t think I’ve ever had to focus so much on keeping my hands steady when it came to stitching someone up before, not even with Joel.

I’m starting to think that maybe I was wrong about thinking that she didn’t like me. I still can’t tell exactly what she thinks of me, and I know that it’s a really bad fucking idea to be entertaining thoughts like these, but tonight she did something that made me reconsider. She got under the covers with me, and instead of moving away to keep us from touching, she rested her head next to mine on the pillow.

I hope she couldn’t hear how much my heart was racing. People can’t hear that kind of stuff, right? Even if they’re close?

I’m being ridiculous. There’s no way she—No. She doesn’t see me like that.

March 21st, 2038

She rested her head on my shoulder today. I don’t know what to think of it. If she was normal and grew up like the rest of us did, I would know exactly what to think. But she’s not normal, and it’s not fair of me to treat her like she is. Maybe this is, like, a culturally acceptable thing back from where she grew up. Maybe rich people just cuddle each other all the time. I wouldn’t fucking know, and unfortunately no one in this godforsaken town can help, because there’s a distinct lack of what Maria calls the “bourgeoisie”. They’re all either dead or back where Y/N grew up, doing whatever rich snobs do.

Even if it is normal for her, I feel like I can’t stop analyzing everything she does. She seems more nervous around me than she does anyone else, but she lingers like she can’t help herself. I’ve noticed that she stumbles over her words and touches me much more than is really necessary. Or at least I think she does—maybe I’m just imagining things.

But even if it means what I think it does, I can’t let myself think like this. It’s not fair to her. No one deserves to live here if they have the choice. At least the people out here know how to handle it. She doesn’t, and I don’t want her to turn into the type of person who does.

When I stitched her up and teased her about being weak and sensitive, I think she thought I was insulting her. I try not to think about it, but if I let myself wallow too much, I’ll wonder what kind of person I’d be if I wasn’t so jaded. Maybe I’d draw more, or read more, or write more. Maybe I’d be an easier person to love. I didn’t get to choose how I turned out. It just happened to me.

So if she has the choice, I’m going to do everything I can to help her make the right one. I don’t want her to be like this.

March 29th, 2038

I had a dream about Riley last night. I haven’t had one of those in years, not since I was traveling with Joel. We were back in the mall, and Riley had just turned the lights on as a surprise. I had this feeling then, like I was being given a second chance. That I could set things straight and do what was right. I woke up before I could insist that we leave.

[A drawing takes up half of the next page. It’s a crude depiction of the mall Riley turned in.]

April 4th, 2038

It’s the middle of the night again. I can’t sleep. I’m so disappointed with myself about what I did tonight with Y/N. At the time, it seemed like a really good idea. She likes me back, apparently. I was right about everything that I wrote about earlier, I guess. But it certainly doesn’t feel like I thought it would.

It’s not like there’s no part of me that isn’t thrilled that she feels the same way. That’s why I gave in and slept with her. But even when she told me how she felt, even before I completely lost my self-control, something heavy was already hanging over me. Regret, maybe. Or guilt. I don’t know. What I do know is that this can’t last. I can’t make this good for her like I want to. She needs to go back, and she needs to be able to feel like she can make that choice without feeling like she’s leaving anything good behind.

I’m not a spiritual person. but even so, I can’t help but feel like that dream of Riley was a sign. This is my second chance. I’m not going to fuck it up this time. I’ve already been an accomplice of so much suffering. Y/N is going home, and I’ll never see her again when she does. That’s that.

It took all I had left in me in the end to kick her out. She looked so hurt, and the fact that she tried to hide it made it even worse. I wish I could tell her why this can’t work, but I don’t think she’d understand.

[A drawing of Y/N kissing Ellie’s palm follows, her hair slightly mussed]

April 6th, 2038

I need to stop making rash decisions like knocking on her door late at night and asking her to come over. I really don’t know what’s gotten into me, because whenever I see her now, I can’t help but freeze up. Like last night, when she kissed me and touched my face and told me she thought I was a good person. I panicked and told her—well, nevermind. I don’t really want to repeat it here. It was mean, but I didn’t know what else I could do to get her to stop.

She was already tearing up by the time she left. I had to sit down and breathe deeply for a few minutes before I was sure I wasn’t going to be sick. I don’t really think I want to write more about this right now. It just makes me sad how unfair this all is. Of course the one time after Cat that I meet someone I really like it just has to be in one of the cruelest scenarios possible. I just have no idea what to do.

[Five pages of drawings follow of Y/N in bed, her head tilted back against the pillow, her eye’s half lidded, and her mouth slightly agape. Ellie redraws this multiple times, x-ing out parts that don’t seem quite right]

April 10th, 2038

I know this is none of my business, but she’s been spending a lot of time with Dina lately. She nearly got herself killed getting a gift for me with Dina yesterday, which feels like some sort of especially cruel joke. The universe isn’t being very fucking subtle right now.

If what I’m worried about is right, at least Dina has the option to come with her up North. She’d test negative.

April 20th, 2038

I would really like it if I could have one short break from the misery that’s my life right now. I turned 20 yesterday, accidentally introduced Y/N to my ex, proceeded to get much drunker than I meant to, completely fell off my rocker and asked Y/N to stay the night, and then discovered this morning that not only has Terranova found Y/N but that my strategy of keeping Y/N at arm’s length completely failed.

She wants me to come with her, and she’s threatening to stay here otherwise. I did the only thing that I could think to do and snapped at her.

I’m so tired of this. I hate having to act like I don’t care. This is the third time now that I’ve had to say something nasty to her to keep her from getting too close. I just want to get in bed and sleep until she leaves and I can pretend like nothing ever happened and that everything is normal.

[One page of drawings of Y/N passed out in her bed and Y/N grinning while holding a lopsided cake]

April 28th, 2038

I know I haven’t been writing much again. Sorry about that. I just can’t bear to think about my life right now. I know I should be relieved—this is what I wanted. I wanted her to go where it’s best for her.

But there’s still that selfish part of me that keeps me up at night. Y/N is going to leave this place never knowing how I feel about her. Logically, that should be what I want. This way I won’t need to say a real goodbye. I know I won’t need to now, since she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore. It’s really fucking immature of me to be so hurt by what she must think of me now, but I can’t stop.

I wonder how long it will take for me to stop feeling sad about this. I’ve never had to process anything like this where there’s nothing I can do. With Riley and Sam, I at least got to heal from the knowledge that I was going to help make the vaccine to save the world. But losing Y/N just because of where we come from is totally meaningless. I can go forward knowing that I made it easy for her to make the right decision, but that only goes so far.

I don’t know how I’m going to handle this. I’m going to practically live with Dina so I don’t need to be alone for the first few weeks.

I wish May 8th would just come already so she can go away and I can get on with my life.

May 1st, 2038

Things have changed some. Joel cornered me in the kitchen last night and told me that I needed to grow up and just appreciate the rest of the time I had left with Y/N. I was going to agree and try to walk past him, but he stopped me and told me that he needed me to escort Y/N. I guess he’s right. She can’t go alone, and Joel and Tommy are getting a little too old for week-long expeditions into the wilderness.

He also told me that I need to apologize to her and make things right, saying shit like I’d regret it forever if things ended between us like this. I don’t want to admit it, but I think he’s right. When I told him that she’d originally threatened to stay if I didn’t go with her, he blinked, hard. Then he told me that he had an idea.

I’m faking it. I’m telling her that I’m going, even though I’m going to leave her when she gets picked up. I don’t know how I’m going to pull it off. When I told her in the meadow last night, she was so happy. I know it’s really sappy and cliche to say this, but I felt my heart shatter, bit by bit. I’m not a very good liar, not to people who are important to me. But I suppose I’ve been lying to her all this time, kicking her out of my room and telling her that I didn’t want anything more with her.

I can do this, I think. I have to do this, or else she might threaten to stay, and I don’t think I have it in me to be cruel again. Not to her. I guess I’ll just trick myself into feeling like I’m actually coming with her, like we have a chance of actually being together. I don’t know. We’ll see.

[One drawing of Y/N laying down in the meadow that takes up half a page]

May 3rd, 2038

It’s easier than I expected. Y/N sleeps over in my room at night, and if I don’t think too hard about it, I can pretend like things will always be like this.

I’m getting to be such a sap, though. I almost broke down in the bathroom today while I was getting ready. It was over the stupidest thing—a toothpaste bottle. Y/N always folds it so neatly, making a perfect, tight spiral of plastic near the end. It used to really bother me when I first had to share with her (because who does that—it’s weird and doesn’t do anything since she doesn’t manage to squeeze out the extra in the bottom anyways), but the thought of throwing it out when it finally emptied and having to find another one that’ll never be folded again hit me and suddenly I was counting my inhales and exhales. I don’t really give a shit about toothpaste. It’s just that it was the moment that I realized that she’s really going to be gone soon, you know? Slowly but surely, the evidence of her stay here will be wiped away and replaced. Someday I’ll forget all the little details about her.

She’s knocking on my door. I need to stop being so depressed and go see her before she picks up that something’s wrong.

[One small doodle of Y/N smiling and rolling her eyes while brushing her teeth]

May 6th, 2038

Dina’s coming now. Y/N told me this morning after she went to say goodbye. I feel really shitty about this. I guess I should tell her that I’m not going now, because this way Y/N needs to go home to get Dina the help she needs, but I just can’t bring myself to. I’ll have to escort both of them to the pickup spot anyway since Dina’s weaker now that she’s pregnant, and the thought of having to spend a full week with Y/N after she knew I lied to her makes my skin crawl. I can’t tell who I’m trying to protect by doing this—me or her. Maybe both.

I’m losing my two favorite people here, and they don’t even know it yet. But this is the best option. This is my chance to finally do some good in the world.

May 7th, 2038

I’m about to go stargazing with Y/N for the last time. I don’t think I’ll be writing in here again until I get back. I don’t want to risk losing this while I’m out in case something crazy happens. Which it probably will, but I canonically happen to be really good at living when shit hits the fan. Also—I don’t imagine Y/N to be a particularly nosy person, but if she ever came across this and thought it was a book or something, it would make things really awkward. So, you’re staying tucked carefully under my bed until I come back later this month.

I don’t know how to handle this sort of goodbye. I don’t really know how to handle any sort of goodbye, I guess, but at least I’ve been through them before. I may not do it well, but I know how to live when people I love die. But this isn’t like that. No one is dying (hopefully), and more importantly, I know it’s a goodbye this time. I see it coming on the horizon and I can’t even tell anyone about it. How does anyone deal with that? How does anyone cope?

Y/N’s knocking on my door now. I need to go before I start thinking even more and do something stupid like start crying or whatever.

I’ll be back in about two weeks.

June 1st, 2038

Sorry for not writing. It’s been pretty shitty, actually. It took me 5 extra days to get home because some scavengers gave me trouble. I hardly slept for most of them. I ran out of ammo about 4 days out and had to use my knife for everything I ran into until I was able to raid the cabinets of this abandoned cabin. Nearly got taken out by a clicker, too. It was not fun. It was especially not fun because I was not feeling super great to begin with, for obvious reasons.

Things haven’t gotten any better since getting back to Jackson. Y/N didn’t take her stupid Exoplanetary Systems textbook and now I’m struggling with whether or not I should throw it out. The rational side of me says to keep it because it was published after the outbreak and probably contains updated information that isn’t anywhere else. The rest of me doesn’t even want to look at the stars anymore because it reminds me of her.

It’s really hard not to blame her for ruining everything. I can’t go out and ride my own horse without thinking about the first time we went on patrol together and she dropped my gun and nearly killed one of us. And I can’t even relax in my own home, because I’ve spent almost every night with her since March in my bed. Sometimes when I hear a creak in the middle of the night I assume it’s her walking down to the bathroom or getting water until it hits me again that she’s never coming back.

I know I’m being melodramatic. There are many other worse problems I could be having right now. But I don’t even have my best friend anymore. I wonder if Dina and Y/N are angry with me for lying. I wonder if they’re settling in okay. I hope that Y/N manages to fix whatever her research was and that Dina gets better.

[Twenty pages of drawings of Y/N and Dina together. Some are snippets of them on their expedition to the pickup site. Others are pictures of Y/N and Dina walking around with smiles on their faces in what looks to be a city]

June 21st, 2038

It’s been over a month since I’ve last seen her. I had a breakdown while getting ready for bed when I realized that I didn’t remember what her voice sounded like anymore.

[Ten pages of half-finished drawings, each with its face scribbled over]

June 28th, 2038

I don’t think I really remember what she looks like—not exactly. I’ve been trying to draw her because I’m still in the habit of making decisions that are definitely not good for my mental state. I just can’t do it, and it isn’t for the lack of trying. Every time I get to her eyes I keep drawing something that looks wrong, but I can never tell why. I compare it to my earlier drawings of her from when we first met and it feels like meeting her for the first time again.

Joel says it’ll pass and that he’s proud of me for doing the right thing. Jessie and I have been hanging out more. Even if he won’t admit it, I can tell he’s miserable without Dina. But he understands why she had to go—just like how I feel about Y/N. And Dina too, of course. Jackson feels like a ghost town without her.

July 17th, 2038

I haven’t been writing or drawing in here for a while, I know. I was going to just go ahead and start a new journal—you know the one that Maria gave me for Christmas with the dark blue cover—but it didn’t feel right to just stop without explaining. Otherwise I’ll feel like an asshole for wasting so much paper.

I don’t want to move on from what happened with Y/N and Dina. I really don’t, but I don't think I have a choice. If I keep going on like this, I’ll never be able to live normally again. I’m just sick and tired of being sad all of the time. So I’m not going to write here anymore. I don’t think it’s realistic for me to forget all about it, because I don’t want to forget her. Not really. But I guess if I want to get better, I’ll need something different. So, here’s that. The beginning of my fresh start. “Fresh start” and you call me overdramatic!! haha. Y/N was here!

(You left this on your nightstand. I promise I didn’t read too much. I opened it because I thought it was your sketchbook. I’m going to put this back since I hear you walking down the hall now.)

ok as an aside my blog is broken so my stuff isn’t notifying people when i tag/showing up on dashes or in tags. please reblog if you’re comfortable so people can actually find this! thank you!

final a/n: i totally get it if this wasn’t quite your cup of tea this time—i just really wanted to iron out ellie’s pov before their reunion in the end. which is happening and not a spoiler because i have always promised a hea! this was a change in pace for the story and i promise you that the next chapter will be more normal/align more with my normal writing style. i have also changed my mind (probably) and have decided to stick with writing an epilogue! so two more chapters are coming before this is totally over. thank you so much for waiting and being so patient! i love you all dearly ok bye bye now

#ellie williams x reader #exoplanet #not adding tags because i’ll eventually repost #this is just for people who want to read!

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carakook · 2 months

Text

Bloom. °˖✧✿✧˖°

"You were just so… fuck, so pretty. So cute."

→ Chapters list ←

⚘3. Flower or Weeds?

🔞For Mature Audiences Only🔞

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

⚘Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader

⚘Synopsis: Tonight is all about getting closure from Jungkook so that you can try to move on… but you find yourself wanting to savor your last moments with him rather than dwell on answers to questions you don’t think you really want to know.

⚘Genre:Forbidden love

⚘Word count: 5k+

⚘Warnings: 18+ for mature audiences only, MDNI, emotional, mentions of cheating, mentions of sex (no smut this chapter, but it is talked about), mentions of toxic masculinity, mentions of arguing, vulgar language, breaking up (sort of?), mentions of rough sex, you will probably cry? let me know if I miss anything!

⚘Disclaimer: This story in no way reflects the characters of those who are mentioned. It is pure fiction and for entertainment purposes only. Please don’t take it seriously. Nothing is real in this story.

⚘A/N: Chapter three! So originally this was supposed to be a very long chapter… but I got carried away, and ended up having to split it up because the WC was way too high. 🥲 The next chapter is going to be released at the same time as this one, so you can read it directly after. Sorry this took so long, I didn’t expect to add so much but I did, and then some stuff came up this weekend. Anyway, enjoy this chapter, the one after this will have lots of smut but also… I cried writing it lol. Thank you for reading. ❤️

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ :

♪Too Much - The Kid LAROI ft. Jungkook

♪Duvet - bôa

♪My Love Mine All Mine - Mitski

♪Scaredy Cat - DPR Ian

✧━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━✧

Closure is something that is needed anytime something ends. Not everyone gets the luxury of closure; some live their lives constantly thinking about the whys, the what-ifs.

Which is why you should be thankful Jungkook stepped up and offered it to you. You were too chicken shit to ask for it because you knew if you reached out to him, it wouldn’t be for closure; it would be for forgiveness. You’d beg him to take you back. He didn’t have to show up today. He could’ve left you wondering why and what if for the rest of your life. You both need this to move on.

And even in knowing this, you’re dreading it. Because closure means there’s an end… that this is truly ending.

Both of your flowers are about to be uprooted and planted elsewhere, far away from each other. The not knowing is what really makes you feel sick. Where will he go? Will he be nurtured, watered, fed? Will he continue to bloom, or will he wilt much like you are now?

Will he be ok?

What about you? Are you about to be placed in a greenhouse that will carefully protect your wilted petals? Or will you somehow find a garden where you belong and can flourish freely without siphoning the life of a flower that you swear doesn’t belong to you?

Or will you fucking wilt away and die?

It sure feels like you could die. Seeing him on his knees begging nearly killed you, as ridiculous as the gesture was. Seeing Jungkook so desperate and broken has fucked with your head almost as much as the prospect of losing him has.

You never wanted to lose him. Never. But this entire situation… has left you drained. You both know it can’t go on.

One last night, you both swear. Just one. For closure, of course…

You were thankful that the pizza guy showed up shortly after Jungkook got on his damn knees and begged (something you will never get over, by the way.), because neither of you knew where to start, he didn’t really plan this far, swore you’d cast him out. And you have no idea what you want out of this.

He insisted on paying for the pizza, seemed a little too eager to do so. But that’s not abnormal. If there’s an opportunity to buy you something, anything, whether it’s pizza or a necklace that costs half your paycheck, he will do it. He wants to do it.

The little things, they fuck you up. It’s like he’s adding salt to the wound.

Also… Jungkook is an emotional eater at times. He was thankful for the distraction because now he can avoid the awkwardness just a little longer while he stuffs his face with the pizza originally only meant for you.

So now you’re both sitting on your couch. His eyes are glued to the TV as he eats, and he looks irritated. Not because he’s actually irritated, just because that’s how he looks when he eats something yummy. Another one of your favorite things about him. He’s too precious.

The little things. They fuck you up. Again and again. Something as small as watching him eat pizza makes you want to give in to the sin and just let it be.

Maybe you could somehow steal the flower…

“This pizza tastes like sex,” he comments around a mouth full, his cheeks puffed out, and eyebrows scrunched as he chews.

You snort in response because there’s no way that cheap-ass pizza tastes like sex. He’s acting as if it’s a pizza from Italy or some shit. Dramatic.

“Don’t know if a pizza tasting like sex is a good thing, Kook…”

He immediately disagrees, shakes his head, and scrunches his brows further. He starts babbling about how sex is beautiful, the best thing in the world, blah blah blah. But you aren’t listening, not really.

Instead, you’re staring, taking in every little detail of him. The way his mouth moves when he speaks, the freckle below his lower lip moving with it. The way his eyes glitter when he talks about something he’s passionate about, such as sex-tasting pizza, apparently. Fuck, you swear there’s an entire galaxy in those eyes. Never seen eyes so expressive before. Stars and sparkles inside of his irises at all times. Or the way that not once has he looked at you since he started eating and babbling. Not once have those sparkly eyes full of stars glanced your way.

You know why. You know he’s procrastinating. He’s trying to make this seem normal like any other day you’d hang out and fuck around. He’s prolonging it.

You aren’t sure if it’s intentional, but he does this often. He’s so bad at saying goodbye. He would drag it out every single time you used to leave after a night spent together. Would keep saying bye, but then start talking about something, anything. Would tempt you to stay. And it worked every damn time because you didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want to leave him ever; you’d stay wrapped up in him for the rest of your life if possible. It’s why you never rushed him when he’d do it. You let him.

You want to let him now. But if you let him, he may never leave. You may never let him go.

You really should speak up, be blunt. Tell him that he didn’t come here to chit-chat and talk about why sex is beautiful or how this pizza is comparable to it; he came here to end this.

But if you did that, you’d have to acknowledge the prospect of closure again.

For you to receive proper closure on your end, there are unanswered questions that you need answers to.

You aren’t sure if you want the answers anymore because most revolve around his wife. The luckiest woman in the world, you think.

There are curious questions such as what her name is, how he met her, how long they’ve been married, and what she’s like… these aren’t important, just things that you’ve laid awake wondering at times when the guilt or jealousy started becoming too much.

Then there are questions like does he love her, why he did this, does she love him, why he did this, is he happy, why he did this, will he stay with her forever, why he did this…

Why did he do this to you both?

You know you’re both in the wrong. You’ve been sleeping with a married man, fuck, you fell in love with a married man, and you knew that he was married. That is wrong. So so so wrong. But you didn’t know at first. If you did, nothing he said would have convinced you to even look at him twice.

But it became regular. You slept with him once. Then you did it again. And you kept doing it. And at that time, while you were wearing those rose-colored glasses adorned in petals and leaves that fell off of him every time you crossed paths, you swore he was the one. Fell so quickly it was alarming.

Finding out he was married should have stopped this all. But you were already so fucking gone for him, so stupid in love, that you did it anyway. You told yourself that maybe one day he’ll leave her for you. You can run away together, build your own garden together, and live happily ever after.

It was delusional to think like this and you know it.

It’s exactly why you’re in your current position.

But you will never move on without the answers to those questions. You need to know, or it will plague you. This man planted your seed, nurtured your sprout, and made it grow beautifully into a flower. But the same man also put up umbrellas and blankets in an attempt to protect you from the rain and harsh sun, the harsh realities of his life, which really just made you wilt. You needed the rain, and you needed the sun; without it, you became tired and suffocated and confused.

He wanted so badly to protect you from the selfish choices he was making, but in the end, it just hurt you. Prevented you from flourishing to a full bloom like him.

And now you must pay the consequences, ask these questions you dread asking, and hear the answers that just might break you.

“Kook… we need to talk. Can’t put it off or you’ll stay forever.” You smile sadly as you pull him out of his rant.

He blinks at you, cheeks still stuffed with his third slice of pizza now. He knows you’re right. He knows damn well what he’s doing, he always knows. Always drags goodbyes out on purpose because he can’t fucking stand them.

He thought maybe if he distracted you, you’d forget why he’s here. It would turn into a normal night, and this entire thing could just be categorized as a brief nightmare… A man can dream.

He nods, looks sort of like a scolded child, and it makes your heart crack. Makes you want to cry, coddle him, coo at him, treat him like a damn baby even though he’s a grown-ass man.

“Right, sorry.”

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and sets his piece of pizza down, looking at it as if it kicked his dog. Starts biting at his lip ring.

You hate it when he does that.

Because you fucking love it when he does that.

“Y/N, I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to… give you whatever you need to move one. So please tell me what you need. Just want my girl happy.”

His girl.

Funny, because it seems like a slip-up. It’s not. He knows what he said. He meant it. Doesn’t care if you scold him. Because as long as he’s here before he says bye for good, you are his girl.

You wish he wouldn’t say shit like that right now though. Just makes it so much harder for you. Reminds you that yes, you are his girl. But no, he isn’t your man.

If only you knew that he really is your man. You fucking own his heart, his soul, his body, his damn brain. You live in it rent-free. You consume him. Without you, he wouldn’t even have a flower, wouldn’t even know he’s capable of blooming.

But he knows he can’t give himself to you fully, not as long as he’s married.

Another reminder as to why he’s here.

You sigh, rub your forehead with the back of your hand. Because fuck, you don’t know either. You could ask the curious questions, the more necessary questions, you could pick his brain and pick him apart too, but you don’t want to deal with the heavy shit. Only what is needed.

Because you know that once he walks out that door, you’ll be fucked for a while.

So you grab his hand, the one that’s moved up and started tugging on his lip ring nervously. You intertwine your fingers, and hold on for dear life.

Deep breathes. This is needed.

“Why… why did you do this? Why did you cheat on her to begin with..? Have you done it before or like… fuck. I just wanna understand.”

The moment you ask if he has done it before, he lets out a laugh. An almost pained laugh, because of course you’d think that. Once a cheater, always a cheater. That’s what is often said. And Jungkook totally agrees.

But god, it isn’t like that at all. He is so against cheating. He thinks it is so selfish and so wrong. Yet here he is, in your apartment, while his wife is on a business trip somewhere in Paris.

He’s not a cheater. Doesn’t want to be called that. You just became an exception. What was going to be a mistake turned into the best thing to ever happen to him.

He’s not a cheater, he swears.

He leans back on the couch, jaw ticking as he keeps his eyes on the TV. He’s not watching it, couldn’t even tell you what’s playing, honestly. He just can’t stand to look at you right now. Not when you think he’s some dirty cheater.

He squeezes your hand to ground himself. So soft and small compared to his. Dainty and pretty, he’s always loved your hands. He swears they fit perfectly in his, as cliche as it is, like puzzle pieces.

Two wildly fucked up puzzle pieces that were from two completely different puzzles but somehow managed to fit more perfectly than any of the pieces that were supposed to fit did.

“No… you were my first when it came to cheating. Gonna be my last too. I’m not a cheater.”

What a contradictory thing to say. He knows it, too. He knows how ridiculous he fucking sounds. But he swears he isn’t a cheater. That’s not him. You’re not his mistress…

Just his fucking soulmate. Nothing too heavy. Fuck.

He sighs, scrunches his face a bit before letting his head fall back onto the couch. Still can’t look at you, so he fixes his eyes on the ceiling instead.

“Before we met, me and my wife… our marriage got complicated. I started noticing things I didn’t notice before, and she… changed. Wasn’t acting like the girl I used to love, but like a stranger. It was like as soon as she got comfortable in our marriage, she switched up… became the complete opposite of who I thought she was once we both graduated college.”

He wavers momentarily because he’s terrified you’ll think he’s making excuses. He’s not. He just doesn’t know how to fucking admit this shit. Has never talked about it with anyone. Has never admitted how utterly fucked his marriage is.

He doesn’t want you to see him as less of a man like his wife does. He’s fucking terrified that your last impressions of him will be similar to his wife’s ongoing dislike for him.

“We kept arguing, kept having issues… and she grew distant. I was having some issues, uh… getting it up. And when I tried talking to her about it, she just checked out it seemed. As if my dick malfunctioning made me unloveable or something…”

He scoffs at that, shakes his head. To this day it makes him feel like shit. Makes him feel unworthy of being called a man, her man. Makes him feel gross and broken. As if maybe instead of a flower, he’s a weed. A pesky weed she can’t seem to get rid of.

“There were other things of course, but that’s when she really pulled away. Wouldn’t look at me, or touch me… wouldn’t even give me a fucking hug. So it drove me kind of crazy, made me start doing stupid shit. Was a bad time.”

This is when he finally chooses to look at you. As much as he can’t bear it, he is itching to see if you’re looking at him with disgust yet. Has he become a weed for you, too? Fuck, is that all he ever was for anyone? Was he ever even a flower?

As he looks at you, he doesn’t see disgust. Doesn’t see anything, really. Which is almost worse because that means your walls are up. You’re building a fence as he speaks, as he shares his dirt-covered secrets with you. You’re protecting your wilted flower. He can’t blame you, but god, he fucking hates it.

“So I went to the club that night I met you, didn’t know what I was looking for. Just wanted to get some sort of rush, or attention… honestly was gonna flirt around but I never planned on actually cheating. I just wanted to feel… fuck, wanted, I guess… it was my fucked up way of proving to myself that I wasn’t unloveable. Pathetic, I know.”

He’s right about one thing: you are putting walls up. But not for the reasons he assumes… it’s because it breaks your heart to hear this shit. He keeps his eyes downturned as he speaks, and you see something in them that you’ve never seen before. They aren’t shiny and glittery and full of stars like they are usually; they’re full of shadows. Self-loathing. Resentment. Sadness.

He hates himself, you realize. It’s something you never noticed until now. Because when he’s with you, he doesn’t look like that. His eyes glitter the most. Full of hearts and stars and flowers, like in those cartoons.

It’s because when he’s with you, he doesn’t feel that way. He doesn’t doubt himself. He doesn’t hate himself. He feels full and loved and wanted.

When he’s at home, when he so as much thinks of his wife, he feels the opposite. He feels like fucking dirt. Like weeds.

So easy to forget about when he’s with you.

He debates on how much detail to go into about that night, about why he was so tempted by you. Should he tell you he got butterflies? That you stroked his ego in a way no one else has? That he thought for the first time ever, maybe his wife wasn’t the most pretty girl in the world, maybe it was you?

That he wanted to fuck your brains out but kiss you stupid afterward?

He doesn’t know. He wants to tell you these things because he wants you to know how loved you are. He doesn’t want to end this with you feeling guilty and undeserving because of what you’ve both done. He wants you to know that no matter how misplaced it may seem, you are the most lovable person he has ever met.

So fucking easy to love.

He clears his throat, tries to prevent himself from getting choked up. Squeezes your hand again for comfort, just because he can.

“Obviously I did cheat that night, with you. You were just so… fuck, so pretty. So cute. Was hard not to want you, especially with how you reacted when you noticed me staring… it doesn’t make it right, but I really didn’t plan to pursue you long term. Just wanted one night with you, wanted to feel wanted. Wanted to be touched and loved on so fucking badly, god…”

The glitter in his eyes returns.

“That’s why I didn’t tell you I was married. And I know I was so wrong for that. I should’ve told you, shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess. But I didn’t see the need to because I swear it was only supposed to be for a night, Y/N. I swear. Wasn’t even going to stay after we had sex. Was gonna go back to my wife and beg for forgiveness…”

The glitter turns into stars.

“But the way you touched me… the way you looked at me… the way you talked my damn ear off when we were done… I was so fucked for you. Probably sounds crazy, but it was bad enough that the sex was so good, that you were so damn beautiful it physically hurt me… what made me act stupid and ask for your number and stay the night was how sweet you were. How you really did make me feel wanted, you spoke to me like I was precious or some shit and all I did was fuck you.”

Because he is precious. If you grab a dictionary right now and look up the word precious, you are absolutely certain Jeon Jungkook will be the definition.

So fucking precious.

No longer stars, but hearts and moons and planets fill his eyes. The warm lights in your apartment reflect beautifully, making it so prominent, making the things you refuse to acknowledge too obvious.

He’s looking at you now. So adoringly. So hopelessly. And you see it again; you see exactly what you have refused to acknowledge every time he looks at you: he is so fucking in love with you, maybe even more than you are him.

Clear as day. Something you can’t possibly ignore or even deny in this moment. A Bearded Iris at full bloom, gifted with strength, love, care, hope, and admiration dedicated to you. The tips of his petals are adorned in a rich lavender color, and he swears that the color was stolen directly from your Aster. Speckles of you all over the Iris.

All because of you. Always you. Only you.

Much like your Aster, the flower rumored to have grown to resemble stars when there simply weren’t enough in the sky, his eyes glittered with those little stars, also only ever because of you.

His flower. His star. His love. His fucking soul. That’s what you are; that’s what you have been. Mistress by technicality, but god, you were never that to him.

You were everything. You are everything.

Seeing it, really seeing it, it changes everything for you.

But it still isn’t enough of an excuse to let this go on.

“So in short my marriage is fucked. Has been fucked for a while, way before you. I didn’t go out that night with the intent to cheat, but I did, because I’m a selfish bastard. And I kept it going with you because I’m a selfish bastard. Im so fucking selfish for you, Y/N. There is no excuse. But I don’t regret it. Don’t care if I go to hell, or if karma bites me in the ass someday. I would do it over and over and over again because I grew to love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my entire life, including my wife.”

And he did. He means that with his entire being. He grew to love you quickly, he grew because he loved you, he grew because you loved him.

You say nothing at first because it’s a lot to take in. He was honest, didn’t sugarcoat anything, and admitted to being selfish. Both of you are so selfish for each other, yet selfless when with each other. It’s all so fucked.

He’s being vulnerable, and you know that he is. He’s looking at you now, biting at his lip ring again. He’s terrified that you won’t like what he said, what he admitted. He’s overthinking heavily because if this is your last night together, he doesn’t want to leave with you thinking he’s an awful man. He’s not. He swears he’s not. He doesn’t want you to see him through the same glasses his wife does.

He swears to god that he will get on his knees again and beg for your forgiveness. He’s not above blubbering and begging again until you forgive him one last time.

But you don’t think any of that. God, you could never. You’re silent because you see him. You really see him. You see all of the things that you were in denial about before. The love, the trust, the adoration, the soul-crushing dedication that he has for you. You aren’t wearing any glasses… Not the rose-colored glasses you had on at first, not the smudged dirty glasses his wife wears, not the funhouse glasses that he wears when looking in a mirror, nothing. You just see him. Eyes clear, and nothing obstructing your vision.

Even with all of that, he’s still a coward. He’s still choosing to end this rather than leave his wife, who you hate even more now knowing what you know. But unlike before, you understand. You may not understand fully, but you don’t fault him.

This wasn’t him being selfish because lust was clouding his judgment. This was him being selfish because he truly did love you. Love makes people selfish. You’d be a hypocrite to fault him for that when your love for him has made you oh so selfish too.

And while all of this has given you the ability to breathe, given you some sort of closure you didn’t really realize you needed… it’s not enough to keep this going.

It can’t go on.

You could keep prying. You could ask more questions. You could dig through his dirt and find unnecessary answers about his wife. Feed your growing curiosity.

Or this can be enough. This can be the closure and the answers you need to move on… and maybe you can enjoy this last night together.

Just one more night.

Instead of feeding your growing curiosity, you can feed each others flower with your shared soil before you’re both uprooted and taken far away from each other.

“Y/N, please say something, I feel like I’m about to puke.”

You blink up at him, realize it’s been a few minutes since he last said anything. You were silent for an awkward amount of time, and his mind is reeling, full of anxiety because he has no fucking clue what you could possibly be thinking.

You give him a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, squeeze his hand again before speaking.

“Sorry, I was just… thinking. Zoned out.”

He bites his lip ring hard because, again, he has no idea what you’re thinking. Are you disgusted? Do you think he’s less of a man? Do you hate him now? Is his flower no longer as beautiful as you once thought now that you see all the creepy crawlers underneath his soil?

“Thinking about what?”

He tries not to sound too eager to know, even though he’s very fucking eager. He feels like his entire body is itching because of the anticipation; the not knowing kills him, too. Usually, he’s so good at reading you, your facial expressions, your eyes in particular, he swears he can read you by those alone. But he has no idea what is going through your head right now.

In reality, he’s just overthinking. He feels guilty. Guilty for how things have turned out and guilty for hurting you. The guilt makes the cogs in his brain move way too fast and causes him to be unable to process the shit he usually could.

You know this; you can easily tell by how he’s playing with the hem of his shirt and biting his lip. Also, the fact that he refused to look at you before but now literally will barely blink because his eyes are so intently on you, cataloging every tiny expression you make.

You hate how unsure he is now that he spoke the truth, as if all of this causes your love for him to wither away. It doesn’t. Not at all.

“Thinking about how that’s all I need regarding closure… would rather not talk about it anymore. Would rather just enjoy our last night as lovers together… if you want, of course.”

Now he’s the silent one… because, fuck, really? That’s it? You aren’t going to go in on him for being a scumbag cheater? You aren’t going to ask a billion questions about his wife? You aren’t going to take your weed-eater and cut him out like the weed that he suddenly is?

That’s it?

He stares at you, blinking a few times, as if maybe the more he blinks, the less delusional he’ll be. But your face says the exact same thing his did. You love him. You love him so goddamn much. He isn’t a weed; when he looks into your eyes at this very moment, he sees his reflection… and it’s the Bearded Iris. It’s him.

He’s your flower, just as you are his. You don’t hate him, you don’t even resent him… you just love him for what he is.

This makes it so bittersweet for him because for the first time in a while, he doesn’t feel totally worthless or unloveable. If you can love him, if you can see him at full bloom, then surely he isn’t broken and unworthy of love. It’s so sweet.

Bitter because he can also see the finality in your eyes. The love never disappears, but the goodbyes are silently written in your eyes. You’re stern in your decision. Jungkook is good at being delusional sometimes, but in cases like this, it’s impossible…

He knows it has to end. If you want it to end, he won’t fight. He doesn’t want to make you wilt anymore than he already has.

He just wants you to bloom. Even if it isn’t for him, he just wants you to heal, grow, and bloom all over again.

You can’t do that when he is weighing you down, tugging on your roots beneath the soil.

So he nods. Rubs at his eyes for a moment because he feels like he could cry, but he doesn’t want to cry. Doesn’t want your last night together to be full of sadness, just wants to savor it.

Feels like the last day on earth, almost. A similar feeling you get when watching those zombie apocalypse movies, and you see people and their loved ones spend their final days together before turning into zombies.

Maybe a bit dramatic, but there’s some truth to that… he knows once he loses you, he will become a zombie.

He brings your hand that’s still in his to his lips, and he places the softest kiss there while looking at you through his lashes.

“I’d like that. So much.”

You give him another sad smile. You feel the same, as if this is the end of the fucking world and this is your last night together.

You almost wish it was because then you could die together. You wouldn’t have to live with grieving each other when you’re both very much alive.

You wouldn’t have to watch his flower be torn out of the ground and carried away. You wouldn’t have to wilt anymore.

Dramatic. So fucking dramatic. But god, love feels dramatic. Especially love like this.

Next Chapter Here

#bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #18+ only #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts smut #jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook smut #i love jungkook

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camille-lachenille · 7 months

Text

The Bakery Witch

She doesn’t even know she’s a witch, she just lives her happy life with her three cats and her bakery, selling the best bread and pastries in town.

She loves singing as she works, a bit of rock, a bit of opera and a bit of everything. The music infuses her pastries with power. People know to buy something from her bakery when they need a little nudge in the right direction in their life, they don’t know why but it seems her bread and pastry can boost one’s day.

There’s the anxious student stopping by the morning of an important exam to buy a chocolate croissant, and the witch sends them away with a kind smile and words of encouragement. They have the best grades of the promotion. Today, the witch was singing ‘We are the Champions’ while baking

There’s the lonely old man across the street wishing he could mend his relationship with his family. The witch always takes time to chat with him when he comes to buy bread. One day he comes in accompanied by a younger woman and two children and introduces them as his daughters and grandchildren. When she bakes mixed seeds bread, the old man’s favourite, the witch always hums songs about family and forgiveness.

After she closes her shop for the night, the witch always gives part of the leftovers to the homeless woman across the street and the rest to a shelter for abused women. When they bit into a cream pastry or a bun, they all feel loved and safe, and all of them end up building a new life for themselves quickly, a life full of hope and laughter. One day, the homeless woman across the street enters the bakery with a bright smile and tells the witch she found a job and a home.

The witch’s reputation spreads without her knowing and, one day just before the closure a man in a smart suit comes in and asks if she can help him break the curse on him. He’sHe was a businessman cursed to age thrice as quickly as normal and die if he doesn’t find love. He’s already tried everything and seen more pseudo-wizard and other sorcerers and he’s heard of the witch’s bakery and how her spells really work. Everyone in town assured him of it. Yet, the witch tells him she doesn’t know about breaking curses and isn’t interested in romance either but she could use some help with the bakery.

Having nothing to lose, the man accepts and becomes her apprentice. She teaches him how to make the bread rise to exact fluffiness, and bake pie crusts to perfection. And all along, she keeps humming and singing, telling her apprentice it’s half the fun of making bread. The man isn’t a very good singer but he picks the habit and makes up for his lack of skill by singing with wild enthusiasm. He’s never had so much fun in his life as he had kneading dough while singing cheesy pop songs or icing cinnamon rolls as he tries to keep up with an opera singer on the radio.

The customers are a bit surprised by the new assistant baker but quickly take a liking to him because if the witch works with him, he can only be a good man, right?

And, two years into his apprenticeship, the cursed man realises he has stopped aging. He’s even starting de-aging now. He doesn’t understand why, he hasn’t found love in all the time he has spent at the witch’s bakery. It’s only when he tells the witch about it that he understand, because she loo at him with raised eyebrows and asks: don’t you love baking? Singing? Making people’s day just a little better with a smile and a kind word?

And the man realises that he has, indeed, found love. He has a job that makes people and himself happy, he knows all regulars of the bakery by name and chats with them, the witch is his dearest friend and he has found a hobby in song (he’s still not great at it but it makes him happy so why stop?) His life is full of love, he just didn’t see it. And maybe, he’s a bit of a witch himself too, because his pastries seem to give people just what they need that day.

Years passes for the witch and her assistant, and their bakery is as popular as always. The anxious student graduated and is in a PhD program (they come before each important milestone to buy a chocolate croissant for the confidence boost), the old man from across the street comes once a week with his daughter and grandchildren, the formerly homeless woman comes to introduce her wife to the witch.

And maybe, one day, the man will meet someone and fall head over heels for them. And they will marry and have children or cats or even a lizard pet because why not. But in the meanwhile he’s in love with his job and lives with his best friend and her cats and, together, they are the bakery’s witches.

#if i had any drawing skills i’d make a comic out of this story #writing #short story #friendship #original story #magic bakery #bakery #witch #baking wizardry #sort of #long post

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luna-writes-stuff · 6 months

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Always, Dean Winchester

Song link

Fanfic, male! reader

Hurt/comfort, slight angst with hopeful ending

Word count: 3510

Tw: British Men of Letters (ew), swearing (big ol’ F-bomb), breakup angst with slight resolving. Mentions of being stood up on a date. Reader is going through some emotions.

Summary: Dean never wanted to leave you, but when the British Men of Letters threatened to come after you, he broke it off before they stood a chance. Now, weeks later, he still regrets that fateful evening. After an hour long drive, he stands in front of you motel room, trying to find some sort of closure.

Requested by @trannydean

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“This Romeo is bleeding But you can't see his blood. It's nothing but some feelings That this old dog kicked up.”

In the course of his life, Dean has made many stupid mistakes. Some mistakes more colossal than the others, but overall a big heap of stupid mistakes. But through all of the trial and error he was forced to go through, he has never regretted one more than losing you.

In all truth, it hadn’t even been a necessarily mistake. More often than not, it would be the lesser of two evils, but this was all together foolish on his side. He felt that on his side, he’d be extremely vulnerable with you around. Especially when the whole British Men of Letters debacle began to escalate.

You hadn’t been a hunter to begin with. You knew about Dean’s life and what he did - it was how you met him after all. But you never joined him and his brother with it. Occasionally, you’d help him dig up some lore, made sure motel places were safe, and had the honour to be the getaway driver every so often.

So, why did he really have to get rid of you?

“It's been raining since you left me, Now I'm drowning in the flood. You see I've always been a fighter But without you I give up.”

In the heat of the moment, it seemed like the right thing to do. You weren’t heavily involved in the hunting life, so you wouldn’t be missed that much. Or at least, that is what he had told you - what he had told himself. In all truth, that would have been one big lie. Maybe you didn’t decapitate vampires or burned bodies, but you didn’t need to. Not for him.

You were his moment of peace after a long hunt; a place he could run to to calm down, to rant, to break down in the rare moments of the night. Every moment he spent around you felt like pure serotonin to him. Every time he fell into a hole and had trouble digging himself out, truly believing he had hit rock bottom, you were there with a rope to pull him out. And he never realised how much you had helped him until it was too late.

It was pure irony that made him hate that dreaded day where he did everything in his power to keep you safe. In order to get you somewhere safe, you had to be away from him. You would never do that willingly. So, he pulled the stupid boyfriend part.

He hated the person who came up with the line ‘you never know what you got until it’s gone’. He hated it, because it was true.

“Now I can't sing a love song Like the way it's meant to be. Well, I guess I'm not that good anymore. But, baby, that's just me.”

It was late at night when he called you from the motel. At least he had the dignity to meet up with you. He had to minimise the chances of you running to him in fear something was wrong. This was better done face to face.

And so, in the dead of night, you pulled up your car to the nearest tank station, already seeing Dean standing there. You had run up to him with a smile, anticipating a surprise, a gift, a secret getaway. But as you stepped closer to him, you could already see the silent remorse on his face. It made you halt where you stood.

Not even ten minutes later you were back in your car, your eyes brimmed with tears, cheeks red and a building headache. You couldn’t remember how long the drive home had been, but once you got there, everything in you had told you to fling yourself onto the couch and let all your emotions flow freely.

“And I will love you, baby, always. And I'll be there forever and a day, always. I'll be there 'til the stars don't shine. 'Til the heavens burst and the words don't rhyme.”

That was three months ago. And aside from the short demon visit from a while back, nothing extraordinary had happened - unlike you had expected. You figured that being separated from the Winchesters would put a massive target on your back, but the opposite was proven. It had been as if you had just completely disappeared from monster radar.

Some part of you was extremely grateful for it. You were able to get back into the loop of your old life, which was something you didn’t think would be possible after four years.

Dean hadn’t checked up on you since. Sam had tried to call several times, but it always went to voicemail. You’d send him a brief message to let him know you were alright, but you were in no mood to talk to him. Not out of hatred or embarrassment, but because he would always bring Dean up. And that had started to become one of your least favourite topics

“And I know when I die, You'll be on my mind. And I'll love you always.”

“Still not answering?” Sam placed his phone on the table, giving Dean an accusing look. “He never answers.” “So, why bother calling?” “Dean,” Sam objected, throwing one hand up in frustration. “It’s called simple human interest. He’ll send me a message later.” Dean frowned at his brother, confusion written on his face. “Wait, you guys are texting?”

An annoyed look passed Sam’s features as Dean’s curiosity grew. “Yes, Dean, I text with my friends.” “He doesn’t text me.” “Because you dumped him over your stupid ego.” A moment of silence passed as the older Winchester shook his head, a light scoff escaping his throat. “You want to know how the white fence life goes?” “He had a date last night.” Sam ignored the mocking tone in his brother’s voice. “I’m curious if it was a success.”

That shut Dean up really quick. He never meant to dump you - he just wanted to keep you safe. He had done his best telling Sam that the dumping was mutual and that the relationship had simply ‘run its course’. Sam, of course, was smarter than this, but hadn’t mentioned it. Be that as it may, Dean had started to not only feel, but become miserable as well. And as sad as it was in the beginning, it had begun to annoy Sam. He knew his brother and he could tell that he would be too stubborn to admit his own feelings, so the youngest had taken it upon himself to keep in touch and maybe arrange a meeting later. The news of a date, however, seemed to grasp Dean’s full attention. And though that wasn’t what Sam had intended to happen, he was slightly glad it did.

“Now your pictures that you left behind Are just memories of a different life. Some that made us laugh, some that made us cry. One that made you have to say goodbye.”

“He’s only an hour from here now, I think.” Sam hinted subtly. “Some motel just outside of town, I believe.” “You want to discuss it over tea?” Dean interrupted, trying to act disinterested. “You’re impossible, Dean.” Sam objected, rising from his seat. “You’re miserable, you haven’t slept in days, and you tell yourself it’s okay, but it’s not!” “I’m not miserable.” Dean objected, shrugging his shoulders as he tried to let his brother’s anger wash over him.

“Face it, Dean. Ever since you broke up with him, you’ve been completely out of it. I’m not even sure if it was that mutual.” Now Dean’s head rose, giving Sam an accusing look, slightly angered by his last words. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “You broke up with him, because you were scared.” The youngest Winchester revealed, beyond convinced of his words. Dean’s frown intensified as he began to interrupt him. “Sam-” “You were scared.” Sam repeated frustrated. “Because you thought the British Men of Letters would run after him.” “Well, he’s safe now, isn’t he?” Dean roared, ending Sam’s words quickly, now shooting out of his seat as well.

“Yes,” Sam responded, now matching his brother’s volume. “But you’re not! I’ve never seen you so out of your loop since we lost dad. You’re not even focused on hunts anymore!” Seething silently, Dean simply stared ahead. His mind echoed a thousand thoughts as Sam’s words seemed to slip past him completely. “You fell down the stairs because a ghost spooked you. A ghost, Dean.”

“Whatever,” The oldest Winchester grunted, as stubborn as he had always been. Without sparing his brother a second look, he walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him as his hands found the railings of the motel. His eyes observed the empty parking lot in front of him. Sam didn’t know what he was talking about.

He was in his car a handful of seconds later.

“What I'd give to run my fingers through your hair. To touch your lips, to hold you near. When you say your prayers, try to understand. I've made mistakes, I'm just a man.”

This was a terrible idea. It was an hour long drive. He could have turned around at any given moment. Nothing in him said that he should at least try. He knew it wouldn’t work. Why he let Sam get to him so much, he couldn’t tell.

But there he stood, in front of the motel Sam talked about. It was late - too late for anyone to randomly knock on doors, especially at motels. Creepy men or kidnappers could stand right on the other side. Or an ill-tempered Dean, in this case.

A deep sigh escaped him before his fist finally knocked on the door twice. The feeling drumming in his heart hadn’t been a strange one, he was more than familiar with it. Only now, it felt horrible. A bad kind of butterflies, instead of the light, comfortable feeling he had grown so accustomed to.

Yes, this was a terrible idea.

“When he holds you close, when he pulls you near. When he says the words you've been needing to hear. I'll wish I was him 'cause those words are mine. To say to you 'til the end of time.”

On the other side of the door, you had been going through the last jar of ice cream you had gotten that same morning. When you heard the knocking, your initial thought was to pretend as if you weren’t here, but you quickly abandoned that idea after realising that - whoever it was - they could see the light burning. Asking no sound would make them think you were asleep, and if it was a murderer, that would basically be an invitation.

So, hesitantly you walked up through the door, peering through the peephole.

“Absolutely not.” You called through the door, immediately walking back to your ice cream. “Wait!” Dean called, but you ignored his command. “I don’t even want to know why you’re here.” You returned, laying down on the bed as you switched the lights off, opting to eat in silence and darkness. “Sweetheart, please-“ “Sweetheart?” You repeated incredulously. “Last time I checked, we broke up.”

“Can we talk?” You ignored his question. He seemed to await your answer before he knocked again. “Come on,” He mumbled. “I can do the talking, and you’ll just listen.” “You’re doing just fine from the other side of the door.” You countered, your annoyance building up over the whirlpool of emotions in your stomach.

“Sweetheart, please.”

“And I will love you, baby, always. And I'll be there forever and a day, always.”

When he knocked for a third time, you shot up out of bed, frantically wiping tears from your face which had fallen for all kinds of different reasons. Angrily unlocking the door, you swung the door open, giving Dean a look that might have killed him on the spot if he had been anyone else. “I’m not here to beg for forgiveness or-“ “Good.” You interrupted him. “So, there better be a life threatening monster in town or you can go right back to the car.”

“No, it’s-” He trailed off halfway, now properly taking a look at you. “Baby, have you been crying?” You scoffed, a faux smile showing itself briefly. “Goodbye, Dean.” As you tried to slam the door shut, Dean’s hand shot out to grab the knob, keeping it locked in place. If you had pulled just a little bit harder, you could have easily won, but that stupid question seemed to trigger frustration all again, leaving you caught up in your emotions.

“Sweetheart-“ “I travelled two states for this guy,” You revealed, not even thinking about what you were saying. You just needed to tell someone about it - a place to rant about the dude. “I genuinely thought we had a connection.” A mocking laugh escaped you as you forced the tears back, not even looking at Dean.

“Did he stand you up?” “No,” You continued. “He was there, alright. Brought his girlfriend with him and everything.” A thin-lipped frown passed Dean’s face, unsure of what to say or what to do. You only resumed your rant. “When I tried to talk to him, he pretended he didn’t even know me. Proceeded to give this chick the best date of her life.” Then, you wiped a stray tear away, silently cursing yourself that you had allowed yourself to be so open to someone you hated just two seconds ago.

“Sweetheart-“ “No, stop that, asshole!” You yelled, anger and pain evident in your voice. “You broke up with me! You don’t get to call me names!”

“If you told me to cry for you, I could. If you told me to die for you, I would.”

Again, you turned around, your hands shaking slightly, fully aware that it would be useless to try to close the door once more. You knew that if you’d ask, he’d allow you to close it, but you didn’t quite know what you wanted him do or say. Yes, you were upset with him. Enraged, some nights. But no, you just wanted some company. Even if Dean was the worst choice.

“So, I had the worst date ever, and when I am most vulnerable, world’s greatest douchebag shows up at my fucking motel room.” You finalised, running a hand through your hair in frustration. A beat of silence washed over both of you before Dean spoke up again: “We were chased.” “We’re always chased, Dean.” You returned, not quite sure what he wanted to say. You weren’t in the mood for it.

“No, I mean…” He pondered over his words for a while, before letting the truth slip. “There is a group called the British Men of Letters. You do not want to mess with them.” Your mouth fell open in an ‘ah’. Not even surprised he managed to turn the conversation around so quickly. “Was Agents of the United Kingdom already taken?” You replied, a sharp edge to your tone. “Baby, I’m serious,” The Winchester protested. “They knew everything about us before we even met. They knew things I wouldn’t have told anyone. They knew about you. They were going to come for you if I hadn’t broken it off.”

So, that is what this had been about. He wasn’t here for some monster or lethal situation, he came here to fix what he had broken all those weeks back. You could have called him names where he stood, properly express your rage, sent him away. Instead, what came out was a pitiful: “I would’ve been fine.”

“We wouldn’t have stood a chance.” Dean sighed, empathy written on his face. “There’s not a day gone by that I haven't regretted that lie I told you. I did love you. I still do.” A harmful smile grew as you shook your head at him. “It’s a little late for that.” “I’m not expecting you to take me back,” The man tried to explain. “I’m just asking for understanding.”

“Take a look at my face, There's no price I won't pay. To say these words to you.”

Whether you believed him or not, you shrugged pathetically, still extremely conflicted. “You could have told me.” “You wouldn’t have let me go.” Dean revealed, something you - though adamantly - could agree on. Had you known, you wouldn’t have given him the satisfaction. Maybe you’d still be together. But he broke your heart all the same. This was no simple forgive-and-forget situation for you. And he seemed to notice: “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry for everything, but I had to.”

You shook your head again, crossing your arms as your eyes fell on the flickering patio light above you. “You’re an asshole for dumping all of this on me now.” “I know.” He agreed. “I just wanted you to know that I didn’t break up with you because of something you did. Or something you said. You’re perfect. I just didn’t want to lose you.” However grateful you were to finally hear those words - that this was in no way your fault - you couldn't help but see the irony in it. “Well, that backfired, didn’t it?” “I’d rather have you safe and away from me, than dead on the floor.”

Your arms fell to your sides as you ran over his words. They were spoken truly, and you wanted to believe him so badly. Part of you already had. But the reasonable part of your bran had finally resurfaced. The silence was killing you. Dean was waiting for you to say something - to do something. You couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him. And you couldn’t suppress the sarcastic speech climbing out your throat.

“How romantic.”

“Well, there ain't no luck In these loaded dice. But, baby, if you give me just one more try. We can pack up our old dreams and our old lives. We'll find a place where the sun still shines.”

When he didn’t seem to respond to that, you sighed, nodding at him. “I understand, Dean.”

The amount of relief that swept through him upon those three words could not be described. To him, it felt as if a massive weight had just been lifted off his chest, and - though it was no forgiveness - he was grateful you knew that nothing had been wrong with you, despite what he might have said that night. “Thank you.” He nearly whispered. “But this isn’t going away like that.” You added, watching Dean’s face fall lightly. “I know.” He admitted, finally stepping away from your doorstep.

“Sam and I are at the Crescent motel an hour from here,” He tried to change the subject again, putting his hand in his coat pockets. “We just finished our case, figure we’ll be gone tomorrow at 9. Might do Sam some good to see your face again.” You understood his underlying notion, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction. Not out of pettiness - out of self reservation. You needed some time for yourself. You were feeling enough as it is.

“He can call me.” You answered. “I’m going home first.” “Of course.” He nodded, the atmosphere now slightly uncomfortable. He seemed to sense it too, because he began to turn around.

“Bye, Dean.” You greeted, a sympathetic smile on your face, one of silent reassurance. He turned his head slightly, giving you a small smile. “Bye, sweetheart.”

As he made his way down the motel steps, you walked towards the railing, looking at him as he walked back to his car. “You know, it’s kind of hurtful you never once called me.” You called after him, watching him halt and look at you. His smile grew a tiny amount at the words, throwing that boyish look towards you: “Keep your eyes on the phone.”

“And I will love you, baby, always. And I'll be there forever and a day, always.” I'll be there 'til the stars don't shine. 'Til the heavens burst and the words don't rhyme.”

As he entered the car, you waited. It wasn’t until his car disappeared from view that you walked back to your room, locking the door behind you. The sadness had lightly disappeared, a lighter, more hopeful feeling now entering your stomach. It grew even more when your phone rang.

Walking up to the device, you were quick to notice the familiar name of the caller. Unable to suppress the genuine smile climbing onto your face, you picked it up, holding the device to your ear.

There was a moment of silence, before a light laugh was heard from the other side: “You answered.” Smiling brighter at the voice, you answered him. “You called.”

A hum of agreement was heard from the other side as the motor of a car was clearly heard in the background. “Goodbye, sweetheart.” Dean’s voice called through the phone.

“Drive safe.”

“And I know when I die, You'll be on my mind. And I'll love you, always.”

#november writings 2023 #dean Winchester #spn #supernatural #dean winchester x reader

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multific · 2 years

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Always Did, Always Will

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Showing up at the twins' store when you knew you shouldn't have gone.

It was truly magical.

Magic was one thing but the store was definitely another.

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

A truly amazing place which you fell in love with even from the outside.

You were not supposed to be here.

Fred made it very clear that the two of you were done when during Umbridge's rule he and his brother destroyed the exam and disappeared.

You didn't see him after.

He clearly didn't want anything to do with you.

So, you moved on or at least tried to.

Then you heard that they opened a store, something you knew Fred and George really wanted to do for a long time now.

You weren't supposed to be there. You were supposed to be looking at flowers at the moment not... Wizard Wheezes.

You told yourself this was what you needed, closure. To see him once and be done with your feelings, to be able to fully move on.

But of course, your stubborn heart had other ideas.

Because as soon as you saw him, it skipped a beat and the butterflies were back in your stomach just like the day you met him.

It was Fred standing on top of the stairs as you tried to hide behind one of the pillars.

You always knew when it was him or George, something you really prided yourself with.

Not many people saw the difference.

You should have left, you should have just gone out the moment you saw him.

But you couldn't. Instead, you grabbed a bottle which was sitting on the table in front of you, pretending to be reading when all you paid attention to was him. Him coming down the stairs and him stopping right behind you.

You felt your hand shake.

"Didn't think you'd need that." he said. Oh, how you missed his voice.

You slowly turned to look at him. Your eyes meeting, the same smile on his face, as usual.

You placed the bottle to your other hand as you looked at it.

Love Potion.

It said, and it made you smile a little.

"Nice shop."

"Thanks, George and I worked really hard on it."

"It shows."

Then something shiny caught Fred's eyes.

"You are engaged." it came out as a sentence but it was more of a question. You felt your heart beat in your ear, it was so loud.

"Yes. I am." you nodded and placed the potion back on the shelf. "I shouldn't have come here."

"How-Why-Do you love him?" as your eyes locked with his, you knew you couldn't lie.

"I do. Just not as much as I loved you."

"Then, why- We should go to my office it's more private." he said as he noticed a couple customers staring.

"Hi Y/N." said George as he got out of the office just as you two walked in. You offered him a smile.

As Fred closed the door behind you, you watched as he walked to the table and leaned against it.

But you didn't let him speak. All this time without him, and he dared to act hurt.

"You never looked for me, you just left me in Hogwarts. Not even a letter, Fred. What did you expect? I moved on and I'm getting married."

"Well, obviously you are not over me if you came here." you didn't know what to say to that.

"I never said I got over you. You hurt me. You promised you never would, yet you hurt me."

"I wanted to look for you. I still love you. It's just the store... my family...I didn't have time, you must understand." you tried to, you really did but your heart was stubborn. "Does he take good care of you?" you made a face.

"I love you Fred Weasley, always did, always will. No matter if I marry Scott or whoever, they are not you. Even if they are the kindest person. My heart belongs to you. But how could I ever forgive what you did? How would I know you wouldn't do the same?" Something in his changed right that instant. Something in his eyes and the way he stood up. He looked confident, a man on a mission.

"I love you. Always did, always will, Y/N. You cannot marry that man, because you need to marry me. O-Once I have the money. I cannot buy a ring like that but I'll save up! Please, leave him, for me, I will never break your heart, I will forever love and cherish you. You know I don't lie."

You did. Fred wasn't the lying type of man. But still, you were unsure. You were sure you loved him, but you feared he would disappear yet again. And he could see the doubt in your eyes.

"I promise you, will all I have, Y/N, I love you and I will never ever leave you like that EVER again." he made you look into his eyes and you could see the determination and the love he had for you.

You wanted to kiss him, you needed to kiss him.

"I won't kiss someone's fiancé, break it off with him first, then come meet me." he said as he placed his forehead against yours.

You respected that. You ran your fingers through his hair as he held you close, you smiled.

"I missed you Freddy."

"And I missed you." he said placing a kiss to your forehead before fully hugging you.

Maybe, going to the store wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @paola-carter

~Masterlist~

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#fred weasley imagine #fred #harry potter fred weasley #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #fred weasley x you #weasley twins #x reader

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translatemunson · 1 year

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track three — the ex tapes

warnings: not proofread. this is not a fluff series, so be ready for some angst and angry characters.

author's note: thanks for all the love these past few chapters! i'm thinking of taking some requests on scenes/drabbles you'd like to read about this series, what do you think? send your ideas my way via ask or message me!

series masterlist

Eddie didn’t call you again. He went silent. Yeah, that was definitely a goodbye.

This was one of those days where the connection wasn’t there. The artist you worked with gave you some trouble when trying to find the subject of the song. You’ve talked for hours, he asked his assistant to get you some coffee and cookies from a nearby cafe, but even after all of that, he couldn’t give you enough material to start based on his experience.

You wrote a verse and a chorus you are not proud of, leaving the rest for another session. But you’re not sure if this was going to happen. He felt a bit off, you knew when people didn’t want to open themselves up, for whatever reason.

Perhaps it was your fault. You were so connected to your personal story that everything was distant. You drive back home listening to your classical music tape, letting the harmonies and crescendos get the ideas out of your mind.

You don’t recognize the black car parked a few spots to the left of Steve’s car. You’ve been living in this building long enough to know everyone else’s cars. New neighbors? No, you weren’t aware of people moving in for a while now.

You gather your things and go up the stairs to the third floor. Everything is calm.

“Stevie! Wanna order some pizza?” You unlock the door and meet with a very serious Steve staring at the person on your couch. Black jeans, denim vest and jacket, dark curls. “What’s this? Why did you let him in?”

Both boys look in your direction. You cross your arms in front of your chest, your guitar case on your feet.

“I think you should talk.” He motions to Eddie to stay in his place.

“Steve-”

“Think of your career, ok? I’ll be in my room,” he walks to you and hugs you. “Try not to kill each other. Scream if you need me to kick him out.”

Steve leaves you alone, locking the door to his room — you bet he’s gonna eavesdrop on your conversation, whether you like it or not. You put your things on the table and let a deep sight cut through your silence.

“What are you doing here, Munson? No, what do you really want from me? Wasn’t leaving me behind like we were nothing enough?”

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

“I know, you said it a few nights ago. But I’m not buying it. How did you find me?”

Eddie looks in the direction of Steve’s room and you feel a little betrayed. You knew Steve would do anything for you, to protect you. And maybe you were too drunk when he arrived after the phone call and you poured your heart out telling him you wished things ended up differently. But you were too hurt, too afraid to let him closer again.

“Sorry, I-”

“You don’t mean it, so shut it. You never returned my calls, or my letters, or even let me know when you were in town so we could have a decent conversation. And now it’s too late.”

“You wanted closure? Do you even know what it means? Because to keep writing our story on people’s songs isn’t closure.”

“Like you’ve never written something about us as well. You can’t change my mind, Munson: I’m not writing with you. Now leave me alone.”

Eddie stands up, but doesn’t go for the door. He takes some bold steps until you’re close.

“You left me in the studio, was it some kind of twisted payback?”

“You broke my fucking heart, Eddie! Making you pay for the studio rent is nothing compared to what you’ve done to me!”

“Well, isn't it funny that you’re working in the same field as me? It’s like you were hoping this would happen.”

“Idiot, I’ve been writing songs and poems for ages! Who gave you the poem that inspired your first hit?” He doesn’t answer, well aware of the day you gave him an envelope with the poem inside. “Why did you use it anyway?”

“Because it was good, Y/N, really good. Can we please put those things behind and talk about our jobs? Because I really need to write this song, and you’re the only person that can understand me.”

You don’t understand me, he said that before you left the trailer in a hurry. It’s been like six years since that night, and you still feel it hunting you. Because you know you were wrong, but you were also young and too eager to get it.

You wanted to move to Chicago, to attend college, to live with Eddie in a small apartment. But you weren’t on the same page. He didn’t see how leaving somewhere else would be good, how he could keep playing with the band. According to him, you had everything you needed in Hawkins.

You had this huge fight. Screaming at each other how things were going to be better, new opportunities and everything else. To him, studying was a waste of time. To you, his band was a waste of time. In the end, you left the trailer after getting tired of all of his bullshit.

When you returned a few days later, he was gone. He moved to Los Angeles, they got a record deal, Wayne explained to you. He gave you his number and new address, and God knows you’ve tried to talk to him, at least to say you were sorry and you wanted to try long distance before ending things up.

He ended things before you could try.

“It has to be you, Y/N. I’ve tried with others, they don’t get it like you do. Please.”

“I’m sorry, Eddie. I can’t.”

You take a paper from the table and start writing down all the songwriters you’ve worked with and could help him, maybe would be honored to work with him. Because you know you can’t go in a studio with him, write down his feelings and walk away without feeling hurt. The song would play everywhere and it would sink the knife deeper.

You offer the paper. Eddie takes it but doesn’t give it a look, shoving it in his pocket right away.

“Please.”

You start crying, your memories making you go back to that night in the trailer. You’ve seen this film before, he’s gonna leave you again and again.

Eddie brings you to his chest in a warm hug. You inhale his scent: cigarettes, maybe coffee and some fancy cologne. Time was good with him. You hug him back stronger, wishing things were different in the past. He doesn’t let you go until he’s sure you’ve calmed down.

“I’m so sorry that I left you. I really am.” He holds your face gently, sweeping the tears away. “Back then I thought that I always had to choose, and I didn’t want to do it because I really wanted to be with you, but music means everything to me. And then we fought and I had a good reason to run away. But you didn’t deserve it, and I’m so sorry for that.”

“I know, Eddie. But I have my fair share of guilt,” you cover his hands with yours. You wished you did this sooner, found your way to Eddie sooner. “I wanted you to leave everything for me, without thinking about other ways we could do it. And when I did, it was too late.”

He holds your shoulders. “Let’s call it a truce? Just for the sake of our jobs. We write the song, I give you a huge cut from the money and we can follow our own ways.”

“You can’t tell people that Charlie Rogers is your ex, because I really don’t wanna be Eddie Munson’s ex,” you add to the deal.

“Sure.” Your proudness is always showing, but he agrees with you: you’ve built your career by yourself, not by being someone’s ex. “Anything else?”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise, love.”

“I can fit you in my schedule.”

“Great,” he claps his hands, satisfied, “if you wanna work in a specific studio, let my manager know, he can arrange that.”

“Nah, choose your favorite and we’ll be fine.”

“Right, ok,” he smiles and leans in. “So see you soon?”

“On thursday, probably. I’ll have to cancel with Madonna, but that’s fine.”

“Madonna? Are you serious?”

“Yeah, it's the third time we’ll work together. I can fit her somewhere else,” you say like it’s nothing. “Clean your schedule for me, rockstar, and meet me here at eight. And make sure to rent the studio for noon. There’s something we need to do before our writing session.”

“‘K, I’ll be here.”

“Ok.”

But none of you move. His big brown eyes don’t leave yours, you can’t break the contact. Reality is hitting you in the middle of your face. The thing you asked for years is happening. Eddie is here.

A door is opened and you hear footsteps.

“Erm, I thought you killed each other,” Steve cleans his throat.

You break the contact first. Eddie puts a cheeky smile on his face and walks to the door.

“See you on thursday. Bye, Steve.”

“See ya, Munson,” Steve does the honors of letting Eddie out. As soon as he closes the door, his eyes find you. “Are you alright?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” You take your stuff and walk to your room. “Please, leave me alone tonight.”

“I’ll make dinner for you.”

“No need.”

“Y/N,” he’s already worried about you.

“I need a moment alone, Harrington. Talk to you tomorrow.”

taglist: @@lokiofasgard616 @munsonology

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #rockstar!eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #songwriter!reader x eddie munson #songwriter!reader x rockstar!eddie munson

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omegaremix · 10 days

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MRKE, 2021.

It’s April. To me, I feel that nothing’s changed. By now I know that all of my favorite businesses to patronize stayed open. Not one record store on the island shuttered. So far, I was proud of myself to visit Williamsburg’s Rough Trade before their relocation this summer. It was the best $417.00 I ever spent. A pinball parlor opened up at my former local mall to my total surprise. It’s something that Long Island never had before. For eight hours and $25.00 I had more than my money’s worth. It’s safe to say that most of the money is coming back again, even if the third stimulus has no face or feelings of how people either benefit or still suffering. Businesses re-opened after New York State’s mandated closures, like my local ticket arcade where I benefit from buy-twenty-get-twenty specials and half-off games on Wednesdays so I’m relieved. It’s been years since I went and I’m long overdue for a night out of a real life 2021 version of The Price Is Right.

My friend M-Ro, brother of archivist and WUSB’s J-Ro, had been out of a job since the cinema-house closed down. He’s done nothing but stay home with his four kids watching infinite amounts of Disney, long-forgotten sitcoms, and other cringy obscurities. Not long ago, he started working again with a friend who later changed career paths and decided to open Pickle Island, a pickle house in Oyster Bay. He offered M-Ro to help run the place and Pickle Island is now a two-man operation.

I hate pickles. I think they’re disgusting, unappetizing, and revolting, They’re an unattractive food to me. I’d never have a reason to buy them ever, ergo be near a pickle house. But when your friend sells part of their CD and video collections there, then you do have a reason to go. I always support my friends with what they do. Snakeskin belts, local shows, photography books, or new ventures. You sell it, I buy it. I haven’t seen M-Ro since one of his final live performances of This’ll Kill Ya’ for his bro-’s bornday at a crowded bar in Hauppauge, so it’s about time I do.

I traveled west on the Long Island Expressway / Rt. 495 and drove past Exit 46, Sunnyside Blvd. / Plainview, where a once-astonishing world of fresh faces and memories that opened up my junior year was an era long dead. Then up north on Rt. 106 / 107. The last time I traveled down that path was when I worked at the Jewish center post-senior year. I got the girl, a Dutch caramel blonde, and also got the job through her father; a mean, threatening, over-protective scumbag who had me on his shit-list for two summer months because I was dating his daughter. I drive up Rt. 106 / Oyster Bay Rd.’s silent, wide-open, grassy roads riding past the stables and million-dollar houses on hills. View the scenic picturesque neighborhoods and one would think how Nassau County sits at the top ten highest-taxed neighborhoods in the entire U.S. Go up North Shore Rd. and see an amazing grandiose view of the harbor’s massive body of water as you coast over the Bayville Bridge and slide into the parking lot across from Pickle Island. I see M-Ro through the storefront, sitting on the couch minding his own as I walk in. He sees me walking towards and waves hello as I come in.

I unintentionally give him a friendly good-to-see-ya’-again hug. Oops. I realized you’re not supposed to do that in a pandemic world. But it’s two weeks after the fact and we’re still alive. After a few lines of conversation, I said to him that it’d be quick and he knows.

I’m not here for the pickles. I’m here to see what CDs he’s selling. It’s already cramped quarters. A Ms. Pac-Man cocktail cabinet sits behind the front window. There’s a few racks of issues of Captain America, Green Lantern, and Wolverine. Another rack of VHS tapes and a shelf of DVDs and Blu-rays. Then the CDs. They’re from his collection. Some duplicates and others he didn’t care about parting, he says. Eight rows or sixteen shelves of discs in total which would take me no more than ten to fifteen minutes to scan…and some neck pain from having to see it all sideways because that’s how he placed them, you Tetris artist. I’m already positioned in blocking the owner from going behind the front counter. And an all-too-nice suburbanite family of three just walked in; a father and his two kid who are all so fine and dandy to be there. As if they never experienced a bad day or tragedy in their white-winged innocent lives. Nice to know that Dad Of The Year never looked in my direction and wondered why a stranger is twisting over by the shelves.

Seeing his partial stash, M-Ro was never one to shy away from pop. Jewel, Head Automatica, Pretty Girls Make Graves, some pop-punk, first and third-wave ska, Warped Tour bands…no judgment here. Because he’s a solo artist who goes by The Matt Roren Karaoke Experience doing covers and music videos of various popular chart-topping hits. Before that, he was also part of the legendary local pop-punk / ska band The Microwave Orphans and after that the garage-punk outfit The Repercussions which I ended up getting two CDs of. Don’t Fear…and Modern Sounds were the two most expensive discs I bought at $7.00 and $10.00 respectively, still sealed. Come on. You have to support your friends.

As with any receipt, there’s plenty of firsts. This one, however, had the majority of them. Veruca Salt, Faith No More, and The Posies were bands that my alternative circles of friends from both Brentwood and Plainview were into. A low price point allows me to have them now for the first time. Stabbing Westward, as it’s industrial rock, is in my hands. The Presidents Of The United States Of America? Yes. They wrote that song about peaches so that’s valid. Why not get The Stooges first album with a second disc of live material? And being I have their second album, why not get the first from The Specials? It’s one of the very select few ska bands I’ll allow in my collection. None of that too-important elitist third-wave carnival music. I don’t think I have Phil Collins’ But Seriously, and he was someone I listened to feverishly during my Nintendo youth. And Richard Marx? None of you know who he is and if you did you wouldn’t dare mention his name. But I will. My ma’ loved him and once had the cassette. So both middle digits flying high to you all.

As M-Ro counted up the tab, I look to my right and there it was: a Sony Watchman. It’s the third one in two months I seen. My interest in them started when during my Saturday shift, one of my favorite customers, a young 20-ish redhead with glasses asked me for a power bank. On my way of showing them to her, she mentioned about buying some more accessories for her Watchman. I’m not much of a movie person so that kind of flew over me until she showed me an actual Sony Watchman handheld TV. She took it out of the box and turned it on for me. I almost dropped dead in front of her. I read about these things all the time but never saw one in the wild. Now here it was. She recently bought one at Savers for only $4.00 and bought an analog-to-digital converter from us to try and stream it to her flat-screen TV. She even went a step further and told me the manufacture date on it: 1985. The fact that it was her holding obsolete antiquated technology in her hands and was still in working condition made my entire month for me. I told this story to my friends at the radio station and our resident fantasy aficionado Captain Phil offered to send me one from his eBay store, which I’m now a proud owner. Pickle Island had a larger unit sitting on its counter showing a random movie and I’m wondering if some talking head, celebrity, influencer, or magic cartoon kangaroo on Instagram recently touted them for everyone to grab.

This one-and-done expedition was just as quick as when I visited Rosie’s Vintage three years ago, but not the least expensive. $62.00 later, I was the proud owner of a piece of M-Ro’s life. Not a gift, but a purchase. Being Pickle Island is not a legitimate music store by any means, it doesn’t count towards my record-store victory tour. I thanked M-Ro profusely for my patronage and told him to stay in touch which he would. It’s now time to reverse the drive home under partly cloudy blue skies with a playlist of past Springtime discoveries as the evening’s soundtrack. I’ll get to experience the harbor one more time and get an idea of where to take a scenic shoot in the near future. I’m not taking the L.I.E. this time as it’s cramped with traffic but this time the Northern State to Rt. 25, Rt. 345, and Rt. 454 all the way through. I’ll log on to social media for all of my friends and allies at WUSB to hear about because I never shut up about what I bought. I need the assurance and affirmation from everyone which I bought with my money today and, so far so good, it’s favorable. Then I see this posted under my purchase:

“You’re lucky I left some stuff for you.” said his brother J-Ro.

You don’t say! I had no idea some of his collection was mixed in for sale with his brother’s. So which ones, exactly? Unlike his offering, the stuff I left for him from my collection was totally free and not out of pocket. Take that to the bank and cash it in.

Repercussions, The: Don’t Fear…

Stabbing Westward: Wither Blister Burn + Peel

Stooges, The: self-titled

Veruca Salt: American Thighs

Phil Collins: But Seriously

Faith No More: Songs To Make Love To

Lacuna Coil: Karmacode

Richard Marx: Repeat Offender

Posies, The: Frosting On The Beater

Specials, The: self-titled

Presidents Of The United States Of America, The: self-titled

Raveonettes, The: Whip It On

Faith No More: Angel Dust

Repercussions, The: Modern Sounds

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nyctophiliq · 2 years

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THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY.

description. the perfect love and life was just a stretch of an arm away from cassandra, but it seemed that she didn’t grasp it soon enough.

pairings. cassandra kiramman + gn! reader

cw. lowercase writing intended, angst, break up, secret love, adultery, cheating, age gap, moss got sappy over some pixel milf

cassandra kiramman’s love for you was forbidden, yet she couldn’t stop. you made her feel like no man has ever made her feel before. with just a look of yours, she swoon, dreaming of your arms around her, your lips on hers. she wanted to love you openly without fear of reservation.

in her book you were a love note on a napkin at lunch break, a sticky note stuck onto a bundle of files slapped on your desk with them saying ‘meet me in my office later xo’ or ‘join me for dinner at this restaurant tonight’. you were a love that clutched her heart with so much joy, a love that’s fire burns unseen, a wound that aches yet isn’t felt, a love that was like a raging sea, so powerful and deep it forever be. she wasn’t old but compared to you she was an ancient relic, insecure about her age you always made sure that it didn’t matter, that the time it took for the two of you to meet was a work of a higher power.

putting it off for months, she finally came to you on a sunny day, just after a night you were really in love and words weren’t enough to express it. she told you it was time, time for her to stop pretending her marriage was working and divorce tobias, that lying to him didn’t pain her but having to keep you a secret any longer and she will go crazy. that no matter what it took she would aid you to the perfect life, and that there was nothing to fear from now on because the world was yours and hers, that soon nothing is going to be in the way of this heaven given passion.

you told- no, yelled at her that you are not gonna be a reason that they call her an adulterer, that you wouldn’t want to see her publicly humiliated if tobias was going to send an army of investigators and lawyers at her. abusing the certainty that she would never raise a voice at you when in such intimate closure and so, rejection didn’t just put a wedge between the two of you, but multiple oceans and lands, short notes and soon no contact at all.

she could fill the oceans with the tears she have cried for you or cover the entire earth with blankets of failed tries to keep you by her side. if she could have, she would have left with you, but she was a bird with clipped wings and you weren’t, leaving her behind with a broken heart.

she could dream of you forever, but it wouldn’t put you beside her, she could call your name on end, you would never hear her. she could have stopped you if she only had time to, but she said it in a little note ‘don’t go, I still love you’. she could try to forget what she felt, but she had put up so much on the line already. she could lie to herself and exhaust her soul, carry on as if she had never met you, give up on you but too much of her still loved you.

she is still waiting for you, to run into you on the corner when wandering out of her office. she still writes those sweet notes with all the adoration in her heart for you and steps to your desk to hand the files to you, but it was an empty desk now, reminding her how long your absence been. when the night came, she touched the side of the bed where you once laid, the sheets between her fingers creasing while her other hand clutched the pendant you gave her months ago.

she went to such lengths as trying to buy your apartment, just so she could linger in your presence a little longer, to revive every single night and morning the two of you spent alone, in secret, away from the prying eyes, hoping the ache in her heart would settle.

cassandra kiramman truly believed that you were the one that got away.

#📼 › moss tapes #cassandra kiramman x reader #arcane x reader #cassandra x reader #arcane cassandra x reader #arcane cassandra #arcane cassandra kiramman x reader

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vacantgodling · 8 months

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some random shit about nad cuz i’m thinking about those losers

nyseah takes a low dosage of e so she looks more like a masculine woman and this is on purpose.

she does like feeling pretty every now and again but she’s a tshirt and sweatpants kind of gyal

she voice trained solely just to be able to do a customer service voice that she uses with patients but on her own she rarely uses it because she likes her voice—she just knows what people expect of her

she’s been out for like 10 years

she stops smoking bc it’s bad around the kids (leila, luna, axel & trinity) and makes don stop smoking bc it makes her want some LMAO

“stop testing my fucking resolve macbride” “…. yes’m”

don and leonine are uncles but in extremely different ways (mid life crisis drinks too much uncle with a pessimistic worldview vs rich flamboyant uncle who buys y’all a house in the country i’m not joking)

leonine wears a locket after roxanne’s death with her picture in it

nyseah cries when axel calls her mom for the first time (basically she was expecting it from the other 3 but she didn’t think axel would ever see her like that and it made her emo). he then started crying because he felt like he could finally be a kid. it’s sweet :)

alona is more like an older sister to the kids than anything. but she also views nyseah like an older sister and looks up to her a lot

don is also alona’s older brother. he doesn’t know how this occurred but he’s begrudgingly endeared

my favorite thing about this found family they all made is the fact that don was so ready to be a brooding “i work alone” type but alona was all 🥺 and nyseah was more 😒 and so he ended up getting dragged into love. sorry bruv this isn’t ur usual noir! ya got dragged into the family!! there’s no escape!!!

tbh i’m still trying to figure out what i want to happen with 12 cuz idk if he makes it safely into the found family 🤔🥲 same thing with the other experiments that didn’t get out.

i ALSO don’t know if i want to have nyseah ever MEET 17 again after what he did to her or if it just happened and what started as her chasing him down for fucking her over becomes her just finding her family and leaving the fucked city and her closure is having people to care about vs like *actual* catharsis from beating his ass

i definitely think they’re blowing up the company building

maybe 12 can sacrifice himself to save them all lmao. mayhaps. i’m still thinking of yknow. the actual plot pff

i also think nyssie is stuck with her powers forever so she just only has use of the one eye

maybe i’ll do more thoughts later

#s: nad #spoilers ig

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bogusboxed · 2 years

Text

Boxtober - Day 6: "Guidance From The Moon"

Day 6: -Homicidal Liu X GN!Reader "Candles, Lanterns & Fairy Lights" X “Adaptable, I like that.”

-I do not own "Homicidal Liu" and do not take credit for him.

Trigger Warnings!!! "Gore & Toxic Behaviors."

FLASHBACK

You could hear your parents' or guardians' talking irrationally to one another as you stepped away from them, turning your back. You had just finished an interrogation with a police officer and an interview with a nicely dressed woman who you had guessed was a news reporter. At least that's what you remembered. All your thoughts were fuzzy at the moment as you tried to piece them back together. You then slowly made your way to the carpeted staircase as your caretaker's voices slowly fade away. Though you tried to listen in as much as you could as you departed. So much had just happened within a timeframe of hours.

You had people storm your house, either in a riot or for want of fame. And it was all because you had been close friends with Liu Woods. The boy was also directly related to Jeffery Woods. The government promised to keep your information under wraps originally. That was until the second killing. The second murder was committed by your dear friend Liu Woods. Then, they couldn't retain it anymore. Or maybe they just didn't want to anymore. It's just too much work for them now. Too much effort.

They didn’t tell you much about what happened because your parents or guardians hadn’t let them. However, that didn't stop social media or the radio. They told you in a cheery voice with little to no empathy in their tone about the murders that took place. You knew that Jeff had gone rogue and killed his mother and father with no clear motive. Then, he proceeded to attempt to murder Liu along with them. The police didn’t tell you that, nor did your caretakers. You found out on your own and had Liu clarify it for you.

You remember sitting by Liu’s hospital bed, anxiously waiting for him to wake up and tell you that everyone was making it up. But that never came. The only thing that arrived was the truth that Liu made you see. And after that, you visited every single day after school to check up on him. Which your caretakers didn't want or approve of, but when did you listen to them? He always seemed so grateful when you walked into his room. On the first day he woke up, he talked about that night in such clear and vile detail. And the worst part was that he made you listen to it. He made you share his trauma and you couldn't do anything but be a good friend. But then every day forward he wouldn’t mention it. It was as if he had just moved on, but it was probably a PTSD thing. Or maybe he saw how uncomfortable you were the day before and chose not to talk about the subject any longer.

You remember that he didn’t like his nurse because she talked badly about his brother and how much of a bitch he was. You remember the stupid idle chat you two had, whether it was gossiping about the nurse or how both of your days went. And how you'd unzip your backpack to show how much candy you snuck in for him. And now you're here on this old staircase thinking about if he murdered someone and not about what type of candy you were going to buy him. Now on this old staircase having no closure. Having no one to tell you what happened. Having no way to know if he was alright. And it left your mind restless. You came up with the worst theory. That Liu went through with it. He went through with killing the nurse and going down with his brother. You just had a gut feeling Liu had butchered that poor lady, and you could have warned her. But, you didn't because you feared that they would take Liu away. Such a childish and selfish reason. Or maybe that bad feeling was that Jeff came back and finished the job. But, that felt worse somehow. You knew the thoughts coming in and out of your mind weren’t right. Maybe it was due to the exposure or maybe it was due to losing your friend. All you knew was the fact that you’d probably never see Liu again. And maybe that was for the better.

You knew you were going to miss your friend though. Perhaps because he was your only friend in middle school. And that those bullies would come back with more nicknames than before. Calling you a murderer or an accomplice to one. Or maybe they would stop and fear you. You were so confused and angry at everyone. It wasn’t your fault that this happened. No matter what anyone says, you didn’t influence him to do this. Jeff did. You blamed him the most. But, you couldn’t hold that grudge because Liu said not to. But Liu was always a little off, especially the more you came around, occasionally saying his name was "Sully." But, the moment you call him that, Liu will correct you. It was confusing. But, you were sure it was just as confusing for Liu as it was for you.

You remember finally getting up those stairs with tears making your eyes turn glassy. You wanted to pass out and just sleep it off. Let everything resolve itself rather than try and fix it. As you entered your room, a familiar face with visible scars caught your attention. It was Liu. He was in your room with the window wide open. You remember him talking to you frantically but still managing to keep it together. He persuaded you to leave, and you did. He was your only friend and the only thing that made sense to your middle-school brain at the time. So, you put a few belongings into your old backpack from school and disappeared discreetly from your residence. You were going to help him find Jeff and get out of this together. You wouldn't have to suffer and go through it if you just ran for it. So you left, with only the moon and Liu to guide you through the dark forest.

END OF FLASHBACK

And that’s still where you are today. In a forest with the infamous Liu Woods, still having the moon guide you with every step at twenty-one. You hadn’t left his side after that. And it was still surreal to see him and his brother's stories in every newspaper with your name laced in there a couple of times. People believed Liu came back and murdered you, while others thought you ran after Liu and slaughtered him. They were always missing something in their little stories, though. Whether it was you being alive or Liu still caring about his younger brother. There were even a few documentaries on the Woods family, which was pretty fucked up, but you couldn't just come back and complain. So, presently, you are still here with Liu after all these years. You still trust him to this day. He was the only thing you truly bonded with and cared for. You, Liu, and his alter, Sully, had all become a team. And your team’s only goal was to track down Jeff. Liu desperately wanted to unite with his brother once again. While Sully, on the other hand, didn’t want to see Jeff ever again.

That’s what brought you two into another forest. Because Liu got some leads about him being in this area and not to mention he had already run off looking for Jeff. But, you were tasked with making a camp-like fort for the next two weeks. Which was rare because you three never stayed in one place for very long. You guys always had to skip town when Jeff got back on the news or Liu’s tracking skills caught onto Jeff. But, you weren't even going to lie to yourself; getting to stay in one spot for a while is a dream come true. Maybe nature's flooring wouldn't be the best for your back, but you'd rather have back pain than leg pain.

A week ago, you managed to convince Liu to let you stay in the same place for two whole weeks. Sully took your side instantly, whilst Liu was more hesitant to do so. He wanted to carry on traveling, but he was conscious of the fact that you would continue to pry about it at every stop. And to him, this forest was good enough due to the high sightings of Jeff. So, he finally allowed you to have what you wanted. He allowed you to win because it played in his favor. Liu identified Jeff's location around or near this area within a week of hearing stories of the two families who mysteriously vanished with little to no trace. You’ve never seen him so excited and you’ve never seen Sully so scared.

Sully was Liu's alter and he was only thirteen years old, and he would stay that way until Liu died. Your heart went out to Sully because he was a child going through all this. But, you never said anything since he had violent anger issues and would probably hate you more. Sully and your relationship wasn’t the best, but you’ve seen Sully hate others worse. And he only hated you because he felt you influenced and helped Liu track down Jeff. Which he wasn’t all wrong about.

You could have definitely done something over the years, maybe to change him. But, you didn’t want to. You weren’t a leader; you were a follower. And you would follow Liu to the ends of the earth. Because he was all you had left. At least that’s what he told you, and on those days Sully never spoke. You knew he was playing you like a record, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. Of course, there were going to be some messed-up aspects to your friendship after everything you two had been through. But, you always knew that, at the end of the day, it was you and him against the world. Because, whether he wanted to accept it or not, he would’ve died without you. On those nights when you had to support him because he got too close to the sun and got hurt. The sun, in this case, is Jeff. He had no remorse for Liu, and he constantly made it clear through his violent behavior. And if you brought it up with Liu, he'd kill you.

You remember the night and the first time he found him. Liu didn’t want you to go with him, believing you’d mess up something. So he went alone. And when he didn’t come back for five hours, you went out for him. You remember all the gory details. He was lying on the ground with a deep crimson cut on his chest, bleeding through his shirt, and had a broken arm that was barely hanging on. You could see his insides as well as his fractured bones. You cleaned and covered his wounds to the best of your ability. He didn’t speak a word that night. You assumed he was fighting with Sully, or maybe he was just trying to process the newfound trauma.

Now you're here, pillows and blankets in hand, to decorate your shared tent. You stole a few things from a corporate furnishing company down the street. You went against Liu a respectable amount by stealing, but you knew you could push it. So, you now had two pillows firmly tucked underneath your arm whilst you had a backpack full of random stuff slung over your shoulder. They were assorted items that looked interesting and were snatched up on the way out and thrown into your backpack with no thought. You moved slower than you should be due to the weight of your gear. You were in the thick of the forest. Every single turn felt so familiar, yet not at all. You could feel the wind’s, gentle breeze on you as you marched through the forest. The temperatures were freezing and only dropping. As you scouted for the obnoxious blue tarp of a tent, you set up a bit ago.

It didn’t take long to find your temporary home as you deeply inhaled the forest’s pine smell. You crouched down to the tent's level as you snuck into it. You laid out the four blankets, all having various designs, as you placed two pillows on each side of the tent. The tent may not have been too spacious, but it was enough. You reached into your backpack for the other items you’d gathered. You had one pack of fairy lights, one metal camp lantern, and a large candle. You aligned the fairy lights on the inside of the tent as you left your lantern right outside. You then placed the candle in a safe and secure spot, even going as far as to tape it down with duct tape. You used your old lighter to light the candle. The unmarked candle let off a sweet cinnamon roll-like smell, quickly scenting the tent with its pleasant smell.

You sat down to take a second to admire your hard work. From the pretty fairy lights that light up the tent and give it a warm, home-like feeling. To the candle, bringing the entire tent together. It looked and felt so cozy. You soon start hearing quiet footsteps outside the tent, followed by a loud sigh. The figure approached the tent as they crouched. You heard the zipper of the tent being opened. You could feel your posture stiffen. You trusted your gut. And you were right, it was Liu. He fit his slender frame into the tent with ease, as he looked confused, looking at each corner of the tent. He sighed once again, sitting down. He had his computer in hand.

"I take it that tracking down Jeff didn't go so well," you said, as he grumbled as his gaze shifted to you. "I suppose," he said as he sat on one of the fleece blankets you had stolen. He looked at everything, observing, even looking at you for a brief moment. "Looks like you’ve been having fun." He crisscrossed his legs as he pulled his computer onto his lap, inhaling the air. "What’s the next step?" you asked, tilting your head at him. You asked him questions you knew the answer to but he still answered, no matter how stupid the question was. He opened his dark silver laptop, which was older than he was, and began to type. "Track down Jeff like it always is," Liu explained, as you sat there staring at him.

"Do you ever take a break?" you genuinely questioned him as he looked up from his computer at you. He exhaled as he answered. "Not really, but it's going to come full circle eventually." You could tell from his voice he hasn't lost an ounce of determination from the time he escaped to now. You were both excited and put off by it. You grabbed your old raggedy backpack and looked inside for the thing you'd been saving. You grabbed two cans of soda as you tapped his leg with the sole of your shoe. He sighed and turned to look up once more. His serious gaze turned soft for a moment as he watched you, jester, a can of soda his way. You didn’t resist as he took the can from you. And with one hand on his computer and the other on the soda can. He managed to open the can with one hand, which surprised you. And your face displayed your newfound shock. And you knew if you tried to do that you’d fail miserably, so you used both of your hands to open it. While you stared at his skills in envy.

You put your open soda can towards him. Which he squinted at you for. He finally understood what you were talking about after you motioned for him to clink it. "To a temporary home and too soon finally finding Jeff," you said as he tapped his drink gently against yours. He agreed with that, smiling. He took a sip, as you did the same. You watch his dark green eyes, which could be compared to the color of the trees outside, dart back to his screen. His dark chestnut hair covered the majority of his freckled face. You soon gazed at his stitched scars, and you became curious. The doctors never had the chance to remove the stitches, which left them in his cheeks. The stitching resembled little x's, which was a daily reminder of why you two were here. They decorated his cheeks and most of his face, with the occasional one on his arms and neck. He covered himself well, though. Especially with his dark striped sage scarf that was much larger than it should've been. He’s worn it for a while. You gave him that scarf for his birthday. The first birthday away from home.

"What do you think of the fort?" you asked him as you began to get into more of a comfortable position. "Well, it’s pretty…’ ‘adaptable, I like that." he paused between words to look around. "The candle, however, is a fire hazard," he noticed your displeased frown because that was the only thing you weren't willing to mention. He smiled due to your annoyance. He slowly stopped taking another sip to focus on his laptop. "I heard about what you did from the people complaining about you in the coffee shop. You made a scene." he didn’t seem all that impressed with your antics though, he didn't seem all that mad.

"And I’m trying to ignore it so we don’t leave earlier than I promised." he glanced at you from the corner of his eye, trying to spot your reaction. You sighed heavily. You knew eventually he’d pull something just not this early. You could feel disappointment rising. "I'm determined to keep my promise," he said, clicking something on his computer. You smiled in response. You knew he was direct and if he wanted out, he would tell you straight. He wouldn't hesitate to pick you up, throw you over his shoulder, and leave. He was going to keep his promise.

You scooted your way toward him after you put down your drink. You tried being sneaky. He didn’t seem to notice originally when you scooted toward him. But as you rested your head against his shoulder he did react with a flinch. You were drowsy from all that running away from the cops then, and the walking. Who could blame you for wanting to rest on a portable heater? He stopped typing as you got cozy, directly pushing the back of your head into his soft scarf. "If you were tired, you could've told me," he sighed, shifting into a better position for the both of you. He lightly pulled you down onto his thigh so you could rest easily. You fully lay down, using his leg as a pillow. You took full advantage of this grand opportunity as he didn't fight back. He went back to typing as you exhaled.

"You're soft, you know that?" you didn’t even notice the words slipping out of your mouth, but when you did, you felt heat rise in your cheeks. You always have had your impulsive thoughts win when you were sleepy. You just couldn't fight back the fatigue well. "You're full of surprises," he said, slightly shaking his head. "Get some rest, Reader." he didn’t mind this as he still tried to track down Jeff even at this moment. You closed your eyes as you started to completely relax. Even with everything, you still managed to get comfortable. Even if the hard dirt floor was only under your tent and some blankets.

You felt something suddenly get pulled over you due to the warmth. You blinked your eyes open slightly. Liu had pulled a blanket over you like the gentleman he was. He then soon rested his hand on your head, running his hand through your hair. In a way, petting you to sleep. His gentle touch was more than enough to coax you to sleep. You drifted to sleep as you heard him lightly type away. This was your life now and you let it happen because he was the moonlight that lit the way in every step.

#homicidal liu x reader #homicidal liu x you #homicidal liu x y/n #liu woods x reader #liu woods x you #liu woods x y/n #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta x y/n #fictober22 #fluffober

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chaoticgeminate · 2 years

Text

Kinktober 2022 - Day Twenty

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit (If that was not entirely clear)

Series Summary: You’re a fanfiction writer turned novelist, which was great since it was the path you wanted your writing to take you down in life. What you never thought would happen was meeting the Javier Gutierrez, who you actively write smutty fanfiction about from his film with Nic Cage, and you especially didn’t expect him to have a crush on you.

Fast forward several months of dating, with a good chunk of your relationship being distance due to his constant traveling and having to go home to Mallorca, when he surprises you with a prompt list and a vacation planned around exploring it.

You haven’t even worked up the nerve to tell him about what you write and post to Tumblr about him as a character yet.

Notes: Going to be using prompts from @the-purity-pen for my meta as hell indulgence! There are feelings in this (I have no idea how they got there) and I may end up removing some possible chapters here and there depending on how I’m feeling, I apologize in advance if that happens because my brain is super mean sometimes.

Possible Warnings: Mirror sex, tender sex, more tooth rotting love and affection, hints of plot

Mirror Sex (1.2k)

“Feels comfortable.”

Javi nodded and just observed, looking at the way the lingerie he’d bought you fit, and the crotchless body suit was a super soft lace material; you’d been worried when he first presented you with the box but seeing it on changed your mind. The color was flattering, the fit was good, and honestly you kind of felt like some sort of goddess. Javi walked up to stand behind you as you looked at your reflection in the mirror and you did smile when he let his hands rest on your hips and began nuzzling the back of your shoulder.

“So why did you buy me a crotchless bodysuit?”

Javi looked at you through the reflection, the way his head was low but his eyes were lifted made his expression much darker and full of desire, it made your brow raise as you waited. It wouldn’t be a bad thing if he just wanted to see you in lingerie of course but, honestly, he had proven that he didn’t do things half way.

“You didn’t open the other box.”

Javi’s tease made you glance at the second gift, tied with a satiny pink ribbon, and you slipped the lid off to reveal the long matching skirt; it was a single set, you realized as he helped you do up the hook closure and zipper that was disguised by the lace ‘belt’ which tied the two pieces together. It looked like it could be a dress, a risqué dress but a dress all the same. The lace was just patterned enough to hide anything from showing -and you did have pasties you could use if you were really that worried- and the slit in the skirt did come up to the thigh but unless you purposefully flipped the skirt there was no way for anyone to tell what was or wasn’t under the material.

Javi smiled as he twirled you to get a good look at the effect of the outfit.

“In eight days we will be returning to the Ritz, I was requested to meet with several studio executives over my new production, I chose that day since it is for formal wear and I thought maybe you’d like to decide if you liked this or not.” Javi turned you back to the mirror and you nodded, it was really not your usual style but you trusted him enough to know that if anyone even tried to leer or be weird that he’d be the first to make a scene.

“Thank you, it’s different than what I’m used to but I like it.”

Why he chose this specific dress was a question, sure, but you suspected he had mischief he wanted to get into and depending on what it was… there was a high chance you’d be game.

“Good.”

The skirt was slipped off of you, to be washed and pressed, but Javi didn’t let you take off the body suit; he hugged you from behind and smiled as he ran one of his hands down the front of you to tease open the fabric and cup your folds with a hum. You spread your legs for him and Javi’s rumble of satisfaction made you grip his arm as you rocked back against his hips, tipping your head up for a kiss.

He sighed your name into your lips and crowded you against the mirror, your hands shooting out to brace yourself, but you couldn’t look away as he began teasing you.

“Can you watch me, Solecita, watch how I make you wet for me?”

Honestly, he didn’t even have to do anything at this point, his dirty talk game could make you ‘flood villages’ wet; but you nodded and earned a good girl before he was giving into his urge to touch you. First, he put two of his fingers against your lips, letting you draw them into your mouth and get them nice and wet, sucking in a tease that made him hold your hips and grind against your ass. You shivered when he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and then sighed softly when he went right to where he wanted to feel you most.

Javi could play you like a piano by now, his fingers just the right amount of pressure as he began teasing you with them, and he wasn’t playing nice right now as he went right for what he knew would work you up. Unlike his little bondage stunt he let you come, let you crest and fight the way your eyes wanted to close, but he hadn’t even dipped into your body at all; and you almost asked why until he was pulling his cock out, the head dripping with proof of how much he wanted you.

“Make me feel like a fucking animal, like I can never get enough of you.”

“Fuck, Javi-!”

It wasn’t one stroke that he filled you but it was slow enough that it felt like it, you weren’t too sore from how badly he’d edged you -given that you’d taken a rest day- but with how much you had fucked one another over the past month already your body was definitely reminding you that this was a drastic increase compared to the long gap periods without.

“I can feel you fucking fluttering, are you close?”

“Y-yes, fuck I’m so close. Gentle, please.”

“Of course, mi amor.”

He was of course, Javi was so careful with you, and each thrust was deep but not harsh or fast; it was languid the way he fucked you, his expression soft with adoration as you watched where he slid in and out of your body in your reflection. Seeing where you were open for him, the shiny skin from your slick, it made you pant softly as you held yourself from being pressed into the mirror. Javi made you feel adored, loved, like nobody else had before and never failed to take care of you however you needed him to.

You brought one hand down to play with your clit, not because you wanted it to be over but because you wanted to lay down with him and feel his weight pressing down on you, and Javi moaned when you reached your peak again before he was rocking up into you and filling you with his spend.

“Love seeing you fall apart for me, Solecita, so fucking pretty. To know that I get to have you like this- to see you like this… it is the greatest gift the fates could drop into my lap.”

“The fates were kind when they led me to you, Javi. Thank you for loving me, for taking care of me, and supporting me.”

“Always, mi amor. I would only stay away if that is what you wished, until then I am yours.”

You smiled into the kiss as he slipped out of you, clothing removed slowly, and Javi pulled you under the sheets before caging his weight against your back and covering you with him and sliding into you from behind with ease from how wet you were already and his cum leaking out of you.

“Never gonna happen, I’m yours, Javi.”

All Fics Taglist: @hardc0rehaylz @wordsnwhiskey @pagannightwitch @radiowallet @musings-of-a-rose @amneris21 @trickstersp8 @practicalghost @rominaszh @alwaysdjarin @alexxavicry

Just Pedro Taglist: @maievdenoir @beecastle @littlemisspascal @writeforfandoms @AynsleyWalker @lovesbiggerthanpride @mswarriorbabe80

Alt Taglist: @imtryingmybeskar @fan-of-encouragement @grogusmum @sizzlingcloudmentality @deadhumourist @prostitute-robot-from-the-future

Kinktober Only: @nicolethered @katareyoudrilling

#kinktober 2022 #javi g x reader #javi gutierrez x f!reader #javi g x f!reader #cw smut #cw mirror sex #just more gooey marshmallow fluff #honestly i am enjoying writing a softer side to kinktober

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