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junityy · 10 months

Text

love letters

pairing. bf!jay x gn!reader

synopsis. in which jay reads your first, unfinished attempt at writing a love letter for him by accident.

genre. fluff

wc. 1k

"I'm back!" you exclaim as you close the door behind you with your foot; unable to use either one of your hands since they're both carrying the grocery bag in your arms, which you didn't even think would be this heavy. Well, you might've gone a little overboard when trying to decide what snacks would be best for tonight; so that'd explain it, at least.

Finally putting the bag on the kitchen counter after the way back here felt like seven years, - when in reality, it was barely ten minutes - you sigh loudly in pure relief.

"Jay?" your voice's tainted with a little confusion; you didn't get any response like you thought you would. Leaving the keys right beside the bag on the counter, you make your way to your bedroom to see what he's up to.

"Hey, I got all the snacks for our-" you pause, and your jaw even drops the tiniest bit when you see Jay sitting on the bed while holding a single piece of paper and, what looks like, reading it. ".. movie night." finishing your sentence, - way quieter than you had started it - Jay finally looks up and meets your eyes.

"Oh I didn't hear you, love." he briefly explains, eyes big as he realizes he didn't hear you coming through the door, nor that you were talking to him just about thirty seconds ago.

"What are you reading?" you ask in a small voice with a slightly nervous undertone, since the paper seems to look a little too familiar for it to be in Jay's hands.. yet. Even from afar.

"Oh- this. Yeah, I found this on the desk earlier. I almost threw it away, but then I saw that it was addressed to me. Y/N is this a love letter?" Jay explains and asks with a tiny smile on his face, sounding only a tad bit confused about the paper in his hands.

And when your eyes widen, his eyes flicker between you and the paper in even bigger confusion and his yet so tiny smile fades. "What?" he asks innocently, eyes big as your reaction makes him feel slightly concerned.

"You weren't supposed to read that." you frown a bit, ready to drown yourself in embarrassment any second now. ".. yet." you almost forgot, but this only made his curiosity grow.

"Oh, this is embarrassing." you mumble to yourself as you walk up to the bed, sitting down in front of him, while his eyes are basically glued to you the whole time.

"I, uhm, couldn't really sleep last night, and then I remembered that you briefly mentioned how you adore love letters a few hours prior." you begin to explain, not even realizing how you're actively avoiding looking at him. "And then I realized that I never wrote you one, like, ever. During all the time we've been together." you add, still a bit saddened by the fact that he never received one from you.

"And so- I got up and.. tried to write one. It's not finished, though. And I thought I put it away, but apparently not.." you continue to explain, shrugging towards the end when you realize you clearly didn't put it away. Writing it at about four in the morning must have made you so tired, you went straight back to bed without noticing it was still on the desk - open for anyone to see and read.

Finally, you look up and meet Jay's eyes. And well, he looks rather surprised, a little shocked even - in a good way, so you assume. His jaw might have dropped just the tiniest bit, and his eyes have not left you still, but now they look even bigger instead.

"I've never written one, like.. in my life." is the last thing you add - as a way to defend yourself in case it was somehow bad by any means; since, well, you barely remember what you even wrote last night.

"I love you." Jay simply scoffs in disbelief, clearly realizing by your change of expression that this is not quite the reaction you were expecting. But still, you're not complaining - hearing him say those three words makes your heartbeat increase an embarrassing amount, like when you first met him and could barely say a word.

And even now, after over two years, you're left speechless again. And so of course, Jay can't help but chuckle; softly grabbing you by the chin to pull you in closer for a short kiss just a second later.

God. You really do feel like when you first met with the way you still get butterflies around him - more and more each day.

"Your letter was beautiful, my love." is the very first thing he says in a low tone after the kiss, your faces still dangerously close and his hand still touching your chin. "I loved it." he adds with a smile, trying to justify just how much he fell in love with those words you wrote. But saying 'he loved it' doesn't seem to be nearly enough.

"I love you." you return, the big smile forming on your face almost impossible to overhear in your voice. Immediately pressing your lips onto his yet again, Jay can't help but smile into the kiss when he can feel you doing so.

"Wait." he suddenly says, breaking the kiss after not too long; your smile fades and confusion overtakes you instead, while Jay's smile only grows bigger by the second.

Sitting straight again, you watch Jay reach down to one of the drawers in the bedside desk, looking for something. When he finds it, he sits straight again and closes the drawer again.

And when your eyes go down to see what's in his hands, you see that it's a bunch of papers just like yours. Except they have much more written on every single one of them; beginning to end of the page, they're full with texts.

Compared to yours, though, every single one of them has a date written at the top.

And instead of being addressed to Jay, they're all addressed to you. Every last one of them.

Your jaw actually drops at the sudden realization, and immediately your head shoots back up - only to find an even bigger smile on Jay's face now. He chuckles at your reaction as it's adorable to him. And also at the fact that he just pulled all these out at once.

"I wrote you a bunch over the years."

note. JUNITYYS FIRST EVER WORK AFTER NOVEMBER 2021 and ofc its jay 😭😭😭 so hello again! not sure just How back i am again but i wanna try and write more again!! (just keep in mind that i WILL 99% still be inconsistent as hell and just post much Much random stuff please, thank you 😸🙏🏻) - also i hope this drabble layout is somewhat fine LMFAO i forgot how you do all this and also tumblr is acting up </3

taglist @tyunni @geombyu @jaeyunverse

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fairysluna · 5 months

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unrequited.

Aegon was unable to keep his love for you as a secret, but he did not expect for you to shatter his heart into pieces after realizing you do not feel the same way.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader.

TAGS — angst, unrequited love, inspired by THAT scene from little women, hurt/no comfort, a bit of miscommunication, one sided love, a lot of crying, guilt, cursing, aegon was named heir. If something is missing, let me know!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE — i was sad, i was watching little women, and then i remembered that i haven't written angst in a very long time. It's short, but well, it is what it is. I'm trying to escape the writer's block so bear with me if this isn't perfect, hope you all like it!🤍

WORD COUNT — 1.6k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.

There was something in the way his eyes looked at you that should have warned you about what was going to happen. Maybe the way his company felt slightly different, or the way he purposely brushed his hand as he walked beside you along the shore of Dragonstone.

A peaceful silence reigned between you two, where only the sound of the sea and seagulls were heard. There was never a need to be talkative whenever you were with him, you two did not need words to express to one another, just a single glance at him and you would be able to read him as if he was a book. It had always been that way. Aegon had never attempted to hide how much he enjoyed your company; no matter how many duties and responsibilities his position might have, he would always find some time during the day to make you company. The mere sound of your cheerful laughter was enough for him to feel whole. Happy.

Your friendship with Aegon began unexpectedly; you were a Lady of a small house, bannermen of the Tyrells. Not even in a million years you would have thought you were going to be one of the heir's closest friends. But you were, and Aegon loved it. You were not like other maidens, you always saw beyond his royal title, beyond the power he would once hold. You saw him as Aegon, Egg as you would sometimes prefer to call him. He loved that you were a breeze of fresh air that would wake him up from his torment every time he felt too overwhelmed.

You were everything for him, an escape of the four wall prison that would often be disguised as a castle. You set him free.

Aegon, inevitably, fell for you in the most beautiful of ways; slowly and unexpectedly. One day he woke up and felt the urge to hold you in his arms each morning; he could not stand another minute without you by his side - it felt almost unnatural to be without your company. His heart found a reason to beat with your presence, his brain would often overshadow his thoughts with silly daydreams about you.

You, you, you. It's always you. It has always been you.

Now, as you were complaining about your Septa scolding you that same morning, Aegon was in awe, mesmerized by you doing such a mundane thing like talking. And, bewitched by the way your lips moved, he stopped his pace. Salty air filling his lungs as he encouraged himself to say what he has been dying to say to you.

You did not realize about it until you were a few steps further than him, and you turned around. He was just looking at you; his puppy, lilac eyes staring at your face almost without blinking. You chuckled nervously, confused about what was happening. You smiled awkwardly, feeling a bit too exposed all of the sudden.

“Is something wrong?” You asked, frowning.

He did not reply, but you saw it in his eyes.

Your smile slowly faded away once the realization hit you, and the atmosphere changed immediately.

“Aegon…” You mentioned his name so differently, it felt almost foreign due to the way it left your lips. It was a plea, you were begging him to not say the words that were about to be pronounced.

He took a step closer; the dreamy glow in his eyes was still there, as if he had not seen the look on your face yet.

“Please, don't,” you managed to say, breathlessly. Your heart was beating so fast that you felt tired. Exhausted, even. You desperately tried to stop it before it was too late.

But you failed.

The weight in your chest became heavier, almost unbearable. Your lower lip was shaking, your legs trembling. You were heartbroken because you knew what you would have to do. Shaking your head, you refused to let him speak, both of you interrupted your words as a desperate attempt to silence each other.

“You need to hear me-”

“-stop this, Aegon-”

“-there’s no use to keep hiding it-”

“-don’t do this-”

“-you know what I'm about to say-”

“-Aegon, please-”

“-I love you.”

The heat of the burning sun was not enough to vanish the coldness that suddenly grew between you two. You closed your eyes, defeated. The silence became painfully awkward, and in that moment Aegon knew the truth.

His heart shattered.

You lifted your head to meet his eyes; they were covered by a layer of tears that were reluctant to escape. He was trying so hard not to fall apart, almost shaking as he stood as stiff as a rock.

“I love you,” he repeated in a whisper, thinking you might have not heard it the first time. “Please… please say it back.”

“Aegon-”

“Please,” he pleaded. His voice was broken and weak, trembling as he choked on a sob. “Please, say it.”

“You cannot do this to me-”

“I have loved you since the first day,” he confessed. “I’ve been trying to deny my feelings, trying to convince myself that it was nothing more, but it is. I need you, I love you more than words could tell, and my heart cannot bear another day without you being mine.”

“Aegon, I don't- I can't-”

“I want you to be my queen, my life companion,” he continued, watching you as you kept shaking your head. “My love, I want everything with you. I want to rule this fucking kingdom with you by my side. Please…”

“Aegon, I'm not fit to rule-”

“Me neither, but we can be a great team, I- I know that-”

“I can't be a queen, I can't marry you,” you interrupted him, trying to make understand your point.

You hated the prohibitions of a title. You see how Aegon was trapped in an invisible cage without escape, and you did not want that for yourself. You wanted freedom, you wanted to travel, to cross the Narrow Sea and meet foreign lands. As a queen, you would be caged; and as a wife to a king, you would be forced to provide him with heirs you do not wish to have yet.

It was selfish, you thought, but it was the thing that would make you happy.

“Aegon, this would never work,” she murmured as she grabbed his hands. He took a sharp breath when he felt your touch. “We're too different, we do not wish for the same things.”

“I know you love me too…. I know you do,” he told you. Some part of himself knew that it was a desperate attempt to try and convince himself that his words were true. But, deep inside, he knew it was not the case; one single glance at you would tell him what he's too afraid to accept.

“You are my best friend, you are the person that I trust the most, you-”

“Because you love me!” he raised his voice.

“I don't, Aegon…” you stopped him before he could say more. His nostrils twitched once he felt the itch on his nose, his lips trembling. “I don't love you like that.”

There was another silence. It was torturous. Aegon pulled his hands away from you. You quickly wiped the rebel tear that fell down your cheek.

“I know you think I'm the one, but I'm not. We would never work, this would only make you miserable-”

“You're the one for me,” he murmured, his eyes lost in the ground.

“I'm not,” you said, trying to reach him, but he just took another step back. “You'll find someone who will love you, who truly deserves you-”

“Am I not worthy of your love?” He suddenly asked, your heart aching at his broken voice.

Gods, you were about to explode.

“You're much more than what I truly deserve, Aegon, you're way better than-”

“I want you, I don't want another. I love you, I could never love anyone else the way I love you!”

“But you will!” you raised your voice to match his. “You will love someone else, and you will forget about me.”

“I can't ever forget about you,” he muttered. He remained quiet for a while before he looked down at you, noticing your teary eyes; a part of him hated himself for making you cry. After a few seconds he said, “I figured you would love me too… After everything we've lived and felt together. I thought we were gonna be happy-”

“You will be happy, Aegon. You'll find a fine young maiden who will give your life a purpose, but that is not me. It cannot be me.”

“You were my purpose,” he murmured, his face covered in tears as his puppy eyes would not look at you.

He felt embarrassed for how broken he was. For how naive he had been to even dare to believe you could possibly love him back. He wondered how he could be so foolish.

“I wish I could be the woman you want, I wish I didn't have to say these things- Aegon!”

He walked away, not wanting to hear any other of your excuses. It hurted enough as it is, your words would only wound him even more.

You tried to stop him, to grab his arm, yelling his name, and try to make him understand you, but he just walked away leaving his footprint on the wet sand as you stood there.

Tears were streaming down your face as you watched him go, one of your hands pressed against your chest as if you were trying to take the pain away. It hurted you to see him so broken, especially when you know it was you the one who caused it.

You had just lost your best friend, and there was no returning point from that.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤfollow @by-fairysluna for more updates!

#aegon ii targaryen x you #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #angst #aegon ii x you #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen x female reader #aegon ii targaryen x y/n #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd angst #aegon ii targaryen angst #aegon ii fic #hotd fanfic #hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd au

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ihugzminseo · 1 month

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needed me. pjh x reader. part I.

pairing : toxic!gf!jihyo x afab!reader

synopsis: 5 years. 5 years of hell to you, 5 years of sadism to her. 5 whole years, you and jihyo have been on and off. why? she's toxic. it's completely insufferable the way she treats you, because she just treats you so badly. that is, outside of bed. god, she's so good in bed. but the on and off is too much, so you decide to leave her. for all. as you said the previous three times. so, you inevitably come crawling back, because you both know deep down, you need her.

warning : non-idol au, unnie!jihyo (jihyo is 27, reader is 25), slight s&m, possessive!gf!jihyo

word count : 0.7k

a/n : this is the first (of many) songfics!! this fic is heavily inspired by needed me by rihanna (hence the title ykyk);

to feel a little more, and give a little less. know you hate to confess, but baby, ooh, you needed me.

disclaimer : this fic has been on the brain for a while, but PLEASE, for the love of all things sacred, do NOT by any means depend on a partner, especially one that's toxic. speaking from experience, it crushes you. seek the help needed, and do not lean on them. at all. this is a work of art, and does not depict any real life instances.

october 2nd. today would've been you and jihyo's five year anniversary. and hypothetically, it is. because this is the day you two got together. for the first time. you weren't fond of college, so you applied for a part time job as a boutique assistant. you've worked at this boutique for nearly eight years, and jihyo was a fairly frequent customer. from her long dark hair, to her big doll-like eyes, to her sweet-as-honey voice, you were in love.

you could go on and on about what you loved about her. her hair looked so healthy, you hated big eyes but godthey suited her so well, her figure was everything you aspired for, her style was top tier but most of her clothes were from the boutique you worked at anyways, her voice was so sweet sounding it drove you crazy. and most of all, she always came directly to your register. not your coworkers, you. and god forbid you were out one day, she'd have another one of your coworkers hold whatever she was planning to check out that day and she'd come back when you came back.

it seemed like the people around you could sense the chemistry between you and jihyo before either of you even sensed it yourself. jihyo had only been shopping there for four or five years, but she was so inclined to walk right over to you, as if she'd known you since day one. and a stranger would think you had on really tacky makeup with the way you blushed everytime she came around.

the two of you initially only engaged in small talk, but that led to the two of you having genuine conversations while you checked her out, like you were two best friends meeting over coffee. and she was just such a sweetheart, it damn near hurt.

she'd smile and nod while you spoke, pretty long lashes batting against her cheekbones when she blinked. and when she spoke? you could listen to her forever. she spoke slowly, almost sensually, and that smile she'd had while on the receiving end of the conversation never faded. she would "unintentionally" touch your hand while handing you her card, feeling the rough prongs of all your rings against her soft hands.

and one day, she slid you something while you took her card. a sheet of paper. "call me? XXX-XXXX-XXXX ♡" . didn't even take you a second to reread it, just a glance up mimicking her sweet smile and a mouthed "you got it".

in all honesty, you hadn't really expected her to pick up. you'd expected to listen to that eardrum-bursting ringing sound for the next 20 seconds before you were eventually told to leave her a message. but, it was definitely a bit of a shock to hear that honey-like voice answer the call with a "aww, you remembered to call?". her voice was much raspier than usual, and she tripped over her words trying to say 'remembered'. jihyo was drunk, very obviously drunk at that.

"jihyo, you sound drunk. really drunk. are you alright?" did it feel right outwardly asking that? no, but it was on your mind so you did. what wasn't on your mind was hearing "you don't question your elders, y/nnie. im not drunk." three things. one, you could hear the slur in her voice. two, she was a really bad liar. three, elder? she didn't look much older than you, so you hadn't thought to address her as such.

"elder? jihyo we look the same age." was all you could get out. jihyo was charismatic, but understanding what she said was like a rubik's cube. "i can just tell im older than you, im 27 y/nnie. and you look younger than i do." oh. 27. like you'd thought, she's barely older than you. 2 years was not that much of a difference, but it must've counted for something to the pretty drunkard on the other end. "i see. jihyo, im 25 though. you're like, barely older than i am."

should've stopped talking earlier. wayyy earlier. as you learned, jihyo didn't really like being proven wrong.

"so? im still older, even if it is 2 years. so be respectful." her voice was still raspy but now it sounded like she was almost snarling at you. god, you would've hung up right then and there if you knew what your misplaced quick wit and her very well hidden sadism would do to you. because it did barely anything, if anything at all, right.

#ihugzminseo #dom!idol #twice smut #twice imagines #jihyo imagines #jihyo is mother #dom!twice #dom!jihyo #dom!jihyo imagines

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drarrily-we-row-along · 1 year

Text

It All Fades Away

The pounding on his front door had Harry’s head jerking up from the carving that he was doing. He’d heard the car driving by a couple of minutes ago, strange enough, but he hadn’t expected anyone to show up at his door. That was the point of this pretty little cabin, hidden in the mountainside in Montana.

No one had been here since Draco had shown up on his doorstep six months ago looking for a place to stay for a night (or four as the case had been). But that certainly didn't bear thinking about.

There was another round of pounding and Harry stood and made his way across the room, pulling the door open, expecting to see some lost driver who couldn't get any reception.

Instead it was Draco standing in the doorway, long hair tied back in a braid, wearing a pair of skinny jeans and the plaid shirt that Harry hadn't been able to find for the past six months. "Harry," Draco murmured, like he was surprised to see him.

He closed the door again, heart beating loudly in his ears, he felt a little dizzy. Harry screwed his eyes shut, then opened them again, he was dreaming, he must be.

But then, if he was dreaming, why wouldn't he let Draco in? At least enjoy the time they could have, even if it wasn't real.

A tentative fist knocking on the door and Harry pulled it open again.

"I'm sorry," Draco blurted, reaching out a hand for Harry but not actually touching him. "I'm sorry that I left without a word. I'm sorry that I just disappeared. You didn't deserve that."

He swallowed, looked Draco over from head to toe and took a step back, gesturing for him to come in.

Draco's shoulders released, tension draining as he stepped inside.

"Why are you back?" Harry asked, voice a little hoarse and gravelly from disuse, before heading toward the kitchen and taking out the tea. Funny that he hadn't forgotten how Draco took his.

The chair slid out from the table and Draco sat down, Harry didn't have to be looking at him to know that Draco's eyes were on him. He'd done the same thing every time that Harry had cooked anything for them when he'd been here all those months ago.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," Draco said and Harry almost dropped the tea cup he'd been holding.

He glanced over at Draco with a sardonic grin, "you don't fuck off for six months from someone you can't stop thinking about."

"You weren't the reason I came to the States," he replied.

Harry nodded, placing a cup of tea in front of Draco at the table but not taking the seat across from him. He leaned against the counter instead, "You were trying to get some perspective. That's what you said, right? Trying to get some space."

"I was trying to find myself," Draco replied bluntly.

He hummed and took a sip of tea, "And?"

"I've seen the most beautiful things," Draco said. "Mountains, and oceans, trees that are thousands and thousands of years old. I've seen cacti, and deserts, and giant canyons. More wildlife and flowers than you can imagine. The things that I've seen," he shook his head, "Harry, I've wept for joy of seeing them, with experiencing them. I've been freer than I've ever been in my entire life."

Harry nodded, took another sip of tea, he'd let him share his life. How could he not? He was happy to share the joy the other man possessed.

"But it all fades to absolutely nothing when it's compared to you."

He blinked, "Sorry?"

"For the past six months, all I could think about were the four nights in your arms. All I could think about was what you might say about the places I've been. All I could imagine was waking up in the early morning light and admiring the way the sun makes your skin glow bronze. Every restaurant I ate in, I imagined the way you'd delight in the flavors, the seasoning; the way you'd enjoy the food in front of you. And every night, I'd lie awake and feel the ghost of your fingers on me; soft and almost reverent, like I was something worthy of being cherished."

"You are," Harry said simply.

Draco swallowed, "And I came back to see," he shook his head, clenched his fingers around the tea cup, "I wondered if maybe you felt a little bit the same."

"Draco," he said incredulously, "I asked you to stay with me." He shook his head, "six months ago, while your body was warm, and heavy, and sated, pressed flush against mine on that bed," he said, pointing to the bed in the corner of the cabin. "I kissed you and I asked you to stay. I gave you my entire fucking heart."

"I-" Draco started but Harry interrupted him.

"You were the one who left-"

"I know," he said, tucking a hair behind his ear. "I'm sorry-"

"I'm not saying that because I want you to feel sorry," he said with a frown. "I'm saying it because I already told you that I wanted you. Of course I feel the same."

Draco's head snapped up, eyes searching Harry's face, "Really?" he whispered.

"Yes, of course, really," he groused.

Before he could get any more words out, Draco flew across the space between them, throwing himself into Harry's arms. And Harry caught him on reflex, arms enfolding him, drawing him closer as he breathed him in. "I missed you," Draco whispered.

"Well it's your own stupid fault," he grumbled but his hands soothed over Draco's back and sides. "I missed you too," he relented, "so much."

Draco swallowed and pulled back, "if the offer still stands," he whispered, "I'd like to stay."

Harry nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat, "It still stands."

"Can we travel, too?"

He laughed, cupping Draco's cheeks in his palms, "I'm afraid there isn't much that I wouldn't give you."

"You'll love it," Draco assured, grinning brightly at him.

"With you?" he said, "I'm sure I will."

Draco leaned in and rested their foreheads together, "Maybe just a little time here for us first," he said.

And the two of them traveled the world together, but it was always true that the other was the thing that they longed to see the most.

==========

Read more of my fics

#drarry #fics inspired by songs #It All Fades Away #love #soft #fluff #love confessions #Listen. The summer is approaching and my wanderlust is ramping up #cannot wait for the summer travels #currently just living vicariously through these two #But man oh man I cannot wait

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bettsfic · 7 months

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hi betts!

i’ve been a fan of yours for years now (training wheels is one of my favorite stories— not just fics. stories— ever, and i really admire your style. as a writer myself, i want to ask how you’re able to keep your motivation up to complete your projects? i feel like i start out so motivated when i fall in love with an idea, but once that fevered haze fades, it’s almost impossible for me to get the motivation i need to write. i have a few wips that i feel so guilty about not finishing/not wanting to finish/wanting to finish but being unable to get the inspiration to. so, in short, how do you maintain the motivation to finish your wips?

thank you so much! i'm glad to hear it; training wheels is still very dear to me.

first, if you want a step by step guide to finishing your wips, i wrote a tutorial earlier this year in my newsletter.

also as i've said elsewhere, i believe it's more important to follow your inspiration and interest where it takes you even if it means not finishing things. one of the reasons i love fanfic is because it's the only genre i can think of where you get to read unfinished works and be present during the writing of them.

but you asked about *my* motivation to finish things, and i'll say it's taken me a long time to build the endurance necessary not only to complete big projects but also complete them to my satisfaction. in my experience, the better you are at finishing things, the worse you become at starting them, and so whereas i used to have a million wips and ideas happening at once, now i can see the ridiculous endeavor ahead of me and pick my battles more knowledgeably.

also, i don't finish everything, especially not right away. sometimes i sit years on a story before i eventually come back to it. but i've found that it's inevitable that when i put something down that i care about, i'll come back around to it when i'm ready. it's not something i have to force. my attention and interest bounces around all over the place but the things i love, i love forever. so i'll always come back around to them.

most importantly--and this is really very important--i lie to myself.

here are the two main lies i tell myself:

"this is the best thing i've ever written," and

"i'm almost done."

being a little delusional is a huge benefit as a writer. if you're too honest with yourself nothing can get done. but i've always had a natural talent for convincing myself of things that aren't true and although that's gotten me in a lot of trouble in all other aspects of my life, in writing it keeps me just far enough away from reality that i can finish things.

the process is something like this:

vague story idea!

will probably be very small, the shortest story i have ever written in fact

begin writing

feels good, feels organic

no no that's not right, bad vibes

start over

ohhh i see what i'm trying to do

outline the tiniest, easiest outline i have ever made. five bullet points. this happens, and then this and this, and the story ends. EASY

will finish by tomorrow, probably

write write write

will finish by tomorrow, probably

write write write

definitely tomorrow, almost done

check word count. 25k. uh oh

doesn't matter, almost done. have *checks* four out of five bullet points to go

write write write

five point bullet outline no longer effective

re-outline. five points turns into five pages. uh oh

check word count. 60k. big yikes

but! almost done! will finish tomorrow, probably

write write write

get stuck? how? but the outline...

the outline is ineffective. re-outline.

check word count. 100k. :(

almost done :)

a plot knot arises. spend six hours staring at a wall to undo the plot knot

plot knot is more insidious than expected. open new document. start over

*now* i'm almost done

rewrite, restructure, reorganize

check word count. 20k. :(

write write write

check word count. 200k. :((

weeks-long fugue state during which i am god

awaken to filthy apartment. i have not eaten a vegetable in many days. i have not seen the sun.

eat a broccoli

go outside

am i living? am i truly living? is this all life is? am i loved? am i worth loving?

return to safety of fictional world to avoid existential despair

write write write

will finish by tomorrow, probably

so it's really less about motivation to finish and more about motivation to chase down an increasingly elusive feeling of joy through immersion into worlds of my own making and control. it's way easier to run away from something than toward it.

#writing advice #motivation #process #listen i'm not saying i have a healthy relationship with writing #if you can do it healthier than i do that's what i recommend

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yuzurujenn · 5 days

Text

2024.03.11 Yuzuru Hanyu sends a message to victims of the Great East Japan Earthquake and Noto Peninsula Earthquake

(Before the interview, while arranging the camera and lighting, I asked Hanyu, "the three days ice shows just finished you look a little tired." Hanyu replied, "Although there is a reason for this, but as expected all sorts of thoughts come to my mind on this day.")

How do you feel about the day of 3.11?

It remains the same every year. I will feel pain and recall the experience of that day. Although many things have changed, there are still things that remain unchanged, and emotions that have not changed actually exist. How to say, every emotion is actually very complicated.

Do you still remember the situation at the time of the disaster?

Yes. I have never forgotten, nor have I ever thought about forgetting. No matter what I do, these memories come back over and over again. I think they will not fade away and will always exist in my mind.

Was it during practice when the earthquake occurred, right on the ice?

Yes, it was on the ice. There had been several earthquakes before that (*a magnitude 7.3 earthquake occurred off the coast of Sanriku on March 9), so I thought that would be the end of it. At that time, it happened to be the holiday period after school exams, so I practiced during the normal business hours of the ice rink. When the initial shock started, I tried to reassure the guests on the ice that “it’s okay” and provide guidance. I have to say that I am actually somewhat used to earthquakes.

You went back to your home?

I walked back, but my home was not in a habitable condition at all (note: it was later judged to be in a completely destroyed state). Although I went to a shelter, it was closed and I couldn't stay overnight. So, I walked for about thirty to forty minutes to another shelter.

Have you ever felt the fear of having your daily life disrupted?

Rather than the fear of daily life being destroyed, it is better to say that there is no sense of reality at first, and that daily life is destroyed before I realize it. I spent four days in the elementary school gymnasium that was used as a refuge centre at the time. “Was this reality?” To be honest, I felt that I couldn't tell the difference at the time. In the blink of an eye, my life, surrounding environment, and the time I had experienced were all changed. So easily destroyed. So, in the short term, my feelings were closer to the feeling of "what happened" than to fear.

Do you remember when it started to feel real?

Everyone was thinking about the disaster-stricken areas, support was becoming closer and closer to people, and I was also allowed to perform at charity ice shows, so it gradually became more and more realistic. It's almost like a feeling that came to me. Whenever I saw videos on the news or photos in newspapers, no matter how I looked at them, they just looked like CG. I myself am not one of those people who actually lost someone close to me. The numbers were so big and so far removed from me that, to be honest, it didn't seem real to me.

You won a gold medal at the 2014 Sochi Winter Olympics, and when you were told that you didn't smile at a press conference, you said, ``It's difficult to talk about the earthquake.'' Do you still remember what you felt at that time?

Honestly, if you ask me if things have changed since then, there are some things that haven't changed. Of course, I'll donate money, or if I feel like I can help even a little, I'll do my best to help. However, in reality, even if we provide support, nothing will directly change; for example, in the case of a major disaster like this, even if one person aspires to do something and does something, it will not really change anything. So, if you ask me if the hearts of all people in that area will improve after all, I know that it is honestly difficult to do that. In that sense, there are some things that have not changed since then. However, what has changed over time is that through the ice shows and actually visiting disaster-stricken areas and seeing the smiles on the faces of many people, I have come to realize that I have worked hard, and seen the results of my efforts, the feelings I want to convey, the way I skate, and so on, I was able to feel that there was meaning.

You were also called the star of the disaster area. For a teenager, though, it feels like a burden.

I would say it was a heavy burden. When I was 16 years old, I would say it was heavy. After all, at that time, I was constantly asked about the earthquake, and even if I had achieved results in a competition, for example, I would be asked, “Well, do you have any message for the people in the disaster area?” No matter what I did, I was always asked about the disaster, and at that time I felt the weight of it all. The earthquake happened at the age of 16, at a time when it was easy for me to feel many different things, and I was told many things by many people, and I personally felt that it was very difficult. It's not like I became famous because of that, but as I achieved the results, I was asked about the earthquake in various places, and I couldn't help but associate Yuzuru Hanyu with the earthquake. To be honest, there were times when I wondered why I had to say something like this. However, because of that, I started to connect my skating, and my life itself, with the disaster, and I have come to think that it is one of the missions of my skating.

There are also people who feel afraid and confused about speaking out about the earthquake disaster.

Yes. The same is true today. No matter how hard we try, it is difficult to make everyone empathize. As an individual from the disaster-stricken area, I can be considered one of the victims. However, I did not suffer damage from the tsunami, nor did I lose any relatives at the time. Under such circumstances, I cannot face those who directly suffered the death of relatives and friends, and were displaced. The same is true today. Even if I want to simply convey that reconstruction is progressing, in fact, there are still uninhabitable and abandoned areas around the Fukushima Nuclear Power Plant, so I cannot make a blanket statement. However, I feel that I have always chosen my words in the midst of this conflict and contradiction to convey what I want to say.

You still struggle with the choice of words. This has not changed.

Yes. Fundamentally speaking, it’s not like I can get close to everyone's heart. Although I don't want to give up...how should I put it? Really, no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I want to be there for you, in the end it is still just my own one-sided feelings, and I can feel that there is still something like a boundary. In that sense, rather than words, I think it’s better to focus on figure skating. Compared to language, physical expressions such as figure skating that are not bound by language can allow people to see different things based on their own values and allow people to think more.

Continuing from last year, the ice show "notte stellata" will be held in Miyagi Prefecture in March this year. You had a desire to do it around the time of March 11th.

This show itself was not planned by me, but I actually visited the disaster-stricken areas and told the people around me that even before I turned professional, I wanted to be able to support the disaster-stricken areas. However, there was someone who made it a reality, and in fact, it is still happening today. That’s why that person took into consideration what I had always thought and put it together to make this work. Thank you for making the show a reality. So, I'm skating with the mindset that I want to give my best performance here.

When you were a competitor, the World Championships were coming up, and you said that it was difficult to provide direct support. By becoming a professional, you can reach that goal.

To be honest, I don't think that my feelings for the disaster area or the time I spent thinking about that time has changed much. However, I think that my ability to actually take action has changed. I think I have changed in terms of being able to actually take action, rather than just thinking directly about the disaster and practice on my own without taking any action. However, year after year, I had painful feelings and various memories, but I never actually expressed them in front of people or delivered anything, so I think things have changed a lot since I became a professional.

A comment published on the 10th anniversary of the earthquake said, ``I think I am the person who has been supported the most by these words, so I am the person who knows the meaning and power of these words the best.'' So let me say this, “Please do your best.” What are the words that you want to convey now?

I want to continue to support them. It's no different from what I said at that time, but I myself received a lot of support, and in the course of various activities like this, I received support from many people, and there were people in the disaster-stricken areas who supported the activities themselves, so I really want to continue to support the people in the disaster-stricken areas for a long time. More than that, I would like to express my gratitude and support to the people who are supporting the disaster-stricken areas.

Do you feel that you are entrusting that feeling to the ice show you held until yesterday and the solo tour performances since last November?

With 'notte stellata', yes, basically. To be honest, I'm a little bit detached from solo performances, but no matter what I say, when I’m saying something or skating, I think that the earthquake disasters are something that inevitably comes with me, so I'm sure there are many words that come to mind in the story of ``RE_PRAY'' (a solo ice show performance). However, with regards to the earthquake disaster and 3.11, I am entrusting all my feelings to 'notte stellata', such as wanting to do something directly, supporting, and cheering people up.

You put your thoughts into the songs you skated this time: “Notte Stellata,” “Carmina Burana,” and “Danny Boy.”

In the first place, people's emotions are different depending on their values, and when it comes to the earthquake disaster, each person has a different sense of distance in how they deal with it. So, in my opinion, there is no general rule that says how I want people to think about the earthquake. So, to be honest, I don’t think I should tell you everything what I want you to think about Danny Boy, notte stellata and Carmina Burana. However, after seeing each of the performances, each with its own themes, after watching the performances in this time’s notte stellata, I want the audience to feel a sense of hope, and I would like to express my wish that, even if it's just for a moment, the people who were suffering in the disaster area, those who are currently suffering, and those who are actually suffering in Ishikawa right now, can have a moment of happiness. I've continued skating with the hope that those people will be able to forget reality and have some kind of happy moment, even just for a moment.

Having seen not only the Great East Japan Earthquake but also various disasters such as torrential rain disasters, what are your common thoughts?

Regardless of the severity or scope of the disaster, I think people’s grief is the same. During the Great East Japan Earthquake, we always unconsciously pay attention to some quantitative things, such as the number of casualties, areas and scope in need of rescue. We tend to think that we feel pain because it caused so much damage, because it was such a tragic disaster, but even a disaster like a landslide is very difficult for the victims. Therefore, behind the number, whether it is "1", "1000" or "10000", there is also pain and hardship behind it, which will not change depending on the size of the number. I wish I could convey that.

Yuzuru Hanyu and the earthquake disaster are inseparable. How do you want to face it?

Honestly, the way we deal with the earthquake, the way we interact with it, and the way we think about it changes every day depending on the situation at the time, and in fact, people who are thinking about various things after the Noto earthquake in 2024, including myself, may change their way of thinking when they think about 3.11 again. I think that the way in which those vivid memories are revived is different for each of us, so I can't generalize what it will be like five years from now, but as I go about my daily life and skate again, I realize that I must never waste that experience, and because I have felt that experience closely, I am sure that there are feelings and a mission that I can convey. I think that's why I want to be involved in the process, searching for ways that only I can provide support.

You have been fighting for more than one and half year since you changed to professional. How do you feel about your own evolution?

Especially when it comes to "RE_PRAY", what I want to express, what I want to show, including the world view I want to convey, I was not able do it alone. Everyone in the team is serious about showing these things. These real professionals have poured their souls into their creations. From this perspective, I feel that I am far behind. In short, this solo tour performances make me feel this way. After all, the concept itself is completely different from an ice show, the approach itself is completely different, and the way of creating it itself is completely different, so in that sense, I have to evolve myself. I must have the figure skating skills to match it, and I must have the depth of thought to match it. And more importantly, since I call myself a professional, I always think that I have to skate at the highest level in the world as a professional and a figure skating expert.

At the press conference in July 2022, you said that you didn't have any feelings of sadness about leaving the arena. Do you still feel the same way now?

To be honest, my true feeling is that there's not much point in returning to competition. What I have been doing now is something that is really unimaginable in competitive skating. I don't have any unfinished business in competitive skating, I've already won two Olympic titles, and in my opinion, I've already gone through all the stages and steps that I should have gone through. That's why I don’t see myself returning.

I would like to see Yuzuru Hanyu continue to reach new heights as a professional, and continue to master his expressive ability.

To be honest, professional figure skaters tend to pay a lot of attention to things like expression, but figure skating is a sport after all, so it is important to have a high level of difficulty, and to challenge the limit of one's physical strength, and sublimate the situation as an expression again. In order to present this, it is necessary to hone my skills and strengthen my physical ability even more. I think that this is a new genre of entertainment that we are creating. So, of course, I want people to pay attention to the expressive aspects, but in order to do that, I always ask myself how much strength and how much skill I have to put into it. Furthermore, while I certainly want to evolve in terms of expression, I want to evolve while always asking myself how much more skill and physical strength I need in order to evolve my expression.

(machine translation with some editing)

Source: https://twitter.com/kyodo_DeepEdge/status/1777560764976660827

#hanyu yuzuru #yuzuru hanyu #羽生結弦 #figure skating #translation #interview

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shesalwaysthere · 8 months

Text

Waiting Room

Joel x F!Reader

Chapter One: My Poor Parents’ Teenage Daughter

pairing: dbf!joel x f!reader

genre: no outbreak, explicit, fluff, angst, eventual smut

word count: 3.7k

summary: You come home from your term at UT for the summer to visit your parents. It’s your last summer close to home before you go up north and leave your family behind- but what happens when a teenage wet dream turns into something that could challenge your future?

warnings: 18+ EXPLICIT MINORS DNI, age gap, mentions of attraction when reader is younger (Joel is NOT attracted to reader when they are younger than 18), swearing, drunkenness, tommy being an asshole, no use of y/n

a/n: hey guys!! this is my first fic on here so if u have any tips please let me know! this was such a joy to write and i absolutely cannot wait to continue this story!! pls lmk what u think! <3

“be easy.

take your time.

you are coming

home

to yourself.”

— the becoming

Every day until you come home each June seems longer and longer until the departure day arrives. You love your school, UT has brought you so many new experiences and you truly feel like you’re ready for this new chapter in your life. But the long stretches of day that seem to go on forever don’t treat you kindly like home did.

Your journey home is, thankfully, a short one.

When you were younger, you dreaded going to college so close to home, your mind always so full of wanderlust, fantasizing about what the big, blue world would bring you. Austin was big, to be sure, but not big enough for you. You needed to soak up the Earth and everything it had to offer.

At twenty-two, you’re glad fifteen-year-old you didn’t make the decisions anymore. Within the first week of your freshman year, you missed your bed. You missed your mom blasting her songs through the house, and seeing your dad floating in the pool on the sweltering Texas days. Your family was crazy, loud, and crass, but the quiet of university gave you hives.

This summer was going to be the last before you traveled further north to Dallas to pursue the last leg of your degree. You were offered free room and board to finish your master's degree at a smaller school, and you were even granted an internship at which your mother screeched in excitement. You were thrilled to start your future, certainly, but this trip was expected to be a little… melancholy.

Your dad tried to convince you to let him drive you, but you insisted a two-way trip was a waste of gas, and you’d see him at home anyways. Home, you thought. Not for much longer, but home. Your old, rickety car sputtered on the half-hour drive, and you patted the poor steed’s dashboard reassuringly, almost as if it could be calmed by your hand. You did push the car’s limits by driving a bit too fast on the main roads, but you were just so, so eager to be home.

Once you finally reached the driveway, your parents were already rushing out the door, attacking you with an embrace, and you giggled happily, letting their warmth take over you. When they finally released you, you took notice of the massive – and very poorly painted – banner above the door, welcoming you home, with your name in big, messy letters drawn for the whole neighborhood to see. As you approached the door, you heard telltale sounds of… oh, God.

A party.

Before you could even protest, or remind your parents of the fact that you were a mess in nothing but a t-shirt and shorts, your hair was all messy, and your face made you look like the underside of a dumpster, they promptly shoved you inside as a cheer erupted from the crowd. Waves of family members shoved through to try and greet you first – aunts and uncles, cousins you’d missed, your sweet little nephew who’d been born four months before. There were even a few family friends you hadn’t seen in years, friends who must have traveled much too far just to see you. Your anxieties about your appearance faded as the energy in the room shifted. How silly you were to be so nervous. You felt surrounded by so much love, and honestly, it was just what you needed.

You almost don’t notice one of your childhood friends, Hannah, standing off to the side, as if she was patiently waiting for you to find her. You had wondered why she hadn’t been answering your texts for the past couple of weeks, then remembered fondly how she can’t keep a secret. You both share a look that nearly brings you to tears, overwhelmed by just the sight of her. You both look so… grown up.

You rush to her with arms outstretched, wrapping her in a tight embrace and laughing, overcome with joy. She pulls away to scan your face, nodding approvingly. “Damn, college did some good to you,” she laughs, holding your face for a moment, “maybe I should have followed you to UT, huh? Could’ve got this glow you have.”

Hannah is three years older than you. She was always so smart in school, and while it made you feel a little inferior, it also filled you with so much pride. She even tested into a program that earned her an associate’s degree when she graduated high school. She finished up her BA at community college even though she was offered several scholarships at many different colleges, all amounting to a number you could never dream of having. No full rides, though, and that was a dealbreaker for her parents. She’s down at the library, now, which you can only hope is something she loves.

You talk for a while, letting other folks come up to greet you and show praise for a few moments before you get too embarrassed and shoo them away. At one point, someone approaches from behind, covering your eyes. You feel them lean in all too close, their breath on your neck.

“Guess who,” they whisper, and you shiver.

If you didn’t know by the hands alone, the voice gives it all away. You pull away and smile wide, wrapping your arms around your dad’s closest friend for as long as you can remember, Joel Miller. Being the man he is, he lifts you up and spins you around, chuckling as you scream. He sets you back down and affectionately puts a hand on your shoulder. “Heya, kid. I’m real proud of you. I know how much this means to you. We’ll miss you down here.” You smile, your cheeks turning a light pink color as he walks away.

Your feelings for Joel are… complicated. He’s been around as far back as your memory goes, always there for your family when you needed him. Hell, he’d even come over when your dog ran out the door and you had to comb through the whole neighborhood to find her. You’d hop in the bed of his truck and shout her name until she came bounding towards you. He was there for birthdays, holidays, funerals…

He also made an occasional appearance in your teenage wet dreams.

It really isn’t your fault. He was consistently fit, handsome, caring, funny… he was the whole damn package and you couldn’t really ignore that as a teenage girl dreaming about prince charming. Joel wasn’t perfect, you knew that, but you loved that even more.

As you and Hannah watch him leave, she pokes you with her clawed finger, making you yelp and playfully slap her, pouting. She shakes her head at you. “What?” You cry, rubbing your arm where she poked you.

“You’re unbelievable,” she says, looking back at Joel. “He’s basically your uncle.”

“Ew, Hannah! Don’t say that, god, that’s so gross,” you say, shaking your head and covering your face. “Don’t make me feel worse! I can’t help this.”

Hannah, of course, knew all about your little crush on Joel and relentlessly teased you throughout the years for it. The teasing was well deserved, as it was silly to feel that way towards someone around 20 years your senior, but sometimes it got to you. It wasn’t like you were going to pursue him, he was just… one delicious fantasy that was stuck in your head.

“So, how’s Kevin?” you ask, trying to change the subject. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Hannah, but you know boy talk is her weakness, and you breathe a deep sigh of relief when she begins her ramble. The gossip doesn’t last too much longer, though, as your dad approaches you with a big smile, and you could tell by the look in his eyes he had some sort of surprise for you.

“Hey, nugget,” he smiles, making you roll your eyes at the nickname. “Come over here, I wanna talk to you about something.” You nod, giving Hannah’s hand a squeeze and smiling before walking away with your dad, intuiting that whatever he wants to talk about will take quite a while. You love him, but he’s something of a talker. He guides you through the sea of people in your living room to the back door, where more people have slowly gathered as the grill begins to work its magic and the crowd gets hungrier. Manning the grill was, of course, Joel.

Your dad leads you over to where he stands, Joel’s eyes not leaving the grill. ‘So serious about his hamburgers’, you think, smiling to yourself. Your dad claps him on the back and Joel jumps slightly, smiling at how surprised he was. He shoves your dad’s shoulder and your dad shakes his head. “This old fucker… well, he’s in desperate need of your help. See, the legal side of his contracting business is frankly a mess, and he won’t hire anyone thinkin’ it’s one big waste o’ money, or whatever.”

The two of them share a laugh, and despite how adorable your two favorite old men are, you find yourself growing increasingly impatient at their lack of to-the-pointness. You nod your head, crossing your legs in agitation. Your dad sighs and points to you knowingly.

“You’re good with that law aspect though, aren’t you? Making sure the… y’know, labor’s fair and the whole thing’s all up to code,” your dad says, scratching his nose. You know he has absolutely no clue what the hell he’s talking about, but he’s trying, and it gives you some semblance of warm joy at the thought. “I thought maybe… you could work for Joel this summer. Few months of real-world experience under your belt, get some decent pay… plus, the old man won’t be too hard on you, will ya, Joel?”

You bring your eyes back over to Joel, who’s clearly been a bit more affected by the alcohol than your dear old dad. His cheeks are red, his brow a bit sweaty (though that could be from the grill) and his lips pursed. You stop to wonder if someone so clearly messed up should be manning a grill, but the thought is stopped in its tracks as you notice something.

Joel is looking at you. I mean, really looking. Not in your eyes, no, at your face. Scanning you, drinking you in, like he’s looking at you for the first time. You feel your face get hot as his eyes go lower before slowly rolling their way back up, and he locks eyes with you, making you smile. He smiles back, which surprises you. It’s a smile that speaks to you. It tells you to be quiet, shushing you, keeping it a secret. You bite your lip, stifling a giggle as you look back at your dad.

You shrug. “I guess. As long as Joel knows the basics of everything, or has kept a file. You did have a lawyer when you started Miller Contracting, right?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at Joel playfully. He laughs too loud, taking another sip of his beer and nodding. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure he kept the files somewhere around, I’ll get ‘em for you. As long as you’re comfortable workin’ with me.”

Your dad shoves him a bit. “Oh, c’mon, Miller, she’s fine. She’s known you most of ‘er life, long as you just treat her right and don’t saddle her with work like you do Tommy, she’ll be alright. And make sure Tommy keeps his hands to himself!” He half-shouts, busting out into more laughter as you turn red again.

You snap your eyes over to Joel who quickly averts his gaze to the floor, and you bite your lip in frustration.

“Yeah, I’m sure we’ll get along just fine,” you say. “And don’t worry, Dad. We’re both good with our hands in different ways.”

You couldn’t be certain, but you thought you saw Joel choke on his drink.

You decided to go formal. First day, new job, might as well look nice, right? Your little… outfit was a little form-fitting, but you’d go for it anyways. You gathered what you figured would be first-day essentials and rushed out the door before your parents woke up. You knew your parents would either make you late by celebrating it as if it was some massive deal, or they’d force you to stay until they were ready to take you themselves, and you couldn’t bear the embarrassment of either.

As you start your car, your phone dings with a little notification. You check, pleasantly surprised, as it’s a text from Joel.

ミ★

(9:08 am) Joel: Hey kid, here’s the address for the office.

(9:08 am) You: look at you, joel, all tech-savvy!

(9:10 am) Joel: Gotta remind me I’m old huh?

(9:11 am) You: now do an emoji for me

(9:11 am) Joel: I am not doing tricks for your pleasure.

(9:12 am) You: i’ll bring you a coffee.

(9:12 am) Joel: 🎪🤹🤡

☆彡

You smile, shaking your head at your goofy, old boss. You punch in the directions to your GPS app and begin the 15-minute (turned to a 25-minute to stop for coffee) trip to your new job. And with around 20 minutes to spare, you pat yourself on the back. Joel is already waiting for you when you walk in, giving you a look you cannot place, especially being distracted by carrying coffee with you. You shove your folders into Joel’s chest momentarily to regain your balance.

“Hey, sorry, hold this for a sec,” you say, pulling out Joel’s coffee and setting it on the desk behind him and sighing, grabbing your papers back. “Thanks. Um… you okay?” Your question is prompted by you taking notice of the look on his face – a sort of slack-jawed, wide-eyed look, like you’d walked in wearing nothing. You feel something tighten inside of you, cursing yourself for feeling so weak at a man looking at you like some kind of meal. You clear your throat, trying to push out a little awkward laugh. “What, you never seen me in nice clothes before?”

Joel clears his throat, smiling a little at himself. “Not since your prom dress,” he says, clearly poking fun at you, since you decided at seventeen that the best thing to wear to prom would be a bright pink dress that looked WAY better in the store than it did the day of, and you had to go in one of your mom’s old dresses. You grimace at the reminder, shoving Joel playfully for bringing it up. “Thanks for reopening that wound, asshole. To think that wasn’t even the worst part of prom,” you say, shaking your head at the memory. He gives you a confused look, making you shrug.

“You know, because I went with Harrison.” you say, gesturing for Joel to catch on. “He… was an asshole? He left me alone all night and made out with my friend when we got to Hannah’s house. Did Dad not tell you?”

Joel nods as if he understands, but he just looks more confused. “Really? Ken’s kid acted that way? Shit, that fuckin’ bonehead’s married now. Can’t imagine what that woman’s goin’ through now. If I’d known, woulda kicked the shit out of him.” He smirks, taking a sip of his coffee.

You laugh, covering your mouth like someone’s going to hear you. “Yeah, I bet you would have. All you would’ve had to do is look at him and he’d run, the pussy. Speaking of, I bet his wife’s real frustrated that he can’t make a woman come.” Joel chokes on his coffee a bit.

As if on cue, Tommy walks in, a customary Joel resting frown on his face that quickly turns to a smile when he sees you. His walk picks up into a jog as he approaches you, wrapping you up into a hug that is purely Tommy. He smells like he just got out of the shower, which is comforting in the most unidentifiable way. He leans away to get a look at you, smiling wide. “Joel told me you’d be here! Couldn’t shut the fuck up about it, in fact,” he says, giving Joel a teasing look, to which Joel responds with a frown.

Tommy looks back at you and puts his hand on your shoulder. “I’m gonna show you where you’re workin’. This old fart won’t remember where everything is, so I’m in charge of the tour. He’ll come along, though, don’t you worry.” You smile and nod, even though you’re a little confused about why you’d be worried about Joel not being there. Did Tommy know something? Did Hannah already tell the whole damn town? Before you can catastrophize anymore, Tommy walks ahead of both of you, leading you toward your station.

The consultation office is new to the company, but the building is definitely not. The only thing that doesn’t seem to be over a decade old is the floor- seemingly new tile, which Tommy comments about. Something along the lines of “out of our own damn pockets” and how it was “worth gettin’ rid of the suspicious carpet stains”. You say something about how Tommy better not bring any girls around and make more stains, which makes Joel laugh. You’re shown Joel’s consult area, Tommy’s area (which he doesn’t really explain, but based on the fact that it looks like a man cave, you assume going in there is a bad idea), a tiny coffee machine that looks like it’s older than the building itself, and finally, your office.

It’s bigger than Tommy’s. Hell, it’s bigger than Joel’s. Obviously, it’s still not huge, but there’s enough space for your desk, a little lounge, and a bookshelf. There are boxes of files on your desk, seemingly all set out for you to go through and organize. However, another box catches your attention. It has a picture frame, a little pencil cup, and a few other things one might have in their office inside of it- but it isn’t yours. You inspect it closer, seeing the picture is of Joel and Sarah. You turn to look at Joel, confused, as he leans against the doorframe.

“You gave up your office for me?”

He just shrugs. “Wasn’t usin’ it.”

You reel. It’s stupid and cheesy, but you do. You rack your brain for any indication before that he was doing this for you, but you can’t remember anything he might have done to reveal this. He wanted to surprise you.

Tommy looks back and forth between you and Joel, smiling knowingly. “He really wasn’t. This geezer spends most of his time out workin’ instead of in here, even though we got a whole group of guys doin’ the work for us.”

“Well, we didn’t start this shit to have other guys do it,” Joel combats, standing up straight. “You’re just a lazy ass now that we got more people. It’s still Miller Contracting, not… Miller and The Other Guys Contracting.”

You stifle a laugh. So does Tommy. Joel purses his lips frustratedly, which only breaks the damn. You laugh so hard you cry, the silliness of the joke rushing at you. Tommy laughs with you, sharing a look with you. It was so fucking stupid and you both knew it.

Joel finally laughs, too. Laughs so hard he has to grab his stomach, delighted at the idiotic joke he made.

You and Tommy silently agree not to mention it. You’re afraid he’ll stop.

Once your giggles finally settle, Tommy crosses his arms and says something about having to get back to someone who called earlier and he steps out of the office. And then there were two.

Joel watches you. He doesn’t say anything when Tommy leaves, just stands exactly where he’s been the whole time, stalking you, waiting for you to move. You don’t look at him. It unnerves you, making you conscious of your movement, but you want him to keep looking. You can’t explain what he’s doing, and you can’t even begin to explain what you’re doing either.

You walk around the room some more, admiring the view from the window, touching the shelves, et cetera. His eyes stay on you. You turn and face him, considering asking him what the hell he’s looking at, but his gaze stops you in your tracks. Goddamn him. You force a smile and bring your hands up to your arms, rubbing them lightly. “Little cold in here, huh?” you chuckle.

Joel just shrugs. “Better’n outside.”

You nod. The air is tense. And awkward.

He leans away from the doorframe and for a moment you think he’ll walk towards you, but he doesn’t. “Well, I’ll let you get settled. Let me or Tommy know if you need anything.”

And he’s gone.

You use the rest of the day to organize the files all piled and half-organized on your desk, not even having time to read them with the unidentifiable order, or lack thereof, of it all. You assume the guys leave halfway through the day when silence falls over the office. It isn’t unsettling in the slightest, but comforting in the way it reminds you of the quiet of your dorm. You hadn’t missed it yet, but you found yourself starting to. Maybe this would be a nice substitute.

When you find yourself hungry for lunch, you decide stretching your legs is a good idea and just go to get some. When you come back, Tommy’s truck is there, and both of their office doors are closed, so you know they’re back. When you walk back into your office, there’s something there you hadn’t left.

It’s a jacket. Pretty fuckin big, too- not chunky big, just stretched out like whoever was wearing it had been wearing it for a long time. There’s a little pink Post-it note attached to it, seemingly from the office.

Don’t go touching the thermostat. -J

Fucking Christ. You groan but put it on, silently grateful for the act of kindness. Still, a thought nudged at the back of your mind.

Is the whole summer going to be like this?

#joel miller #tlou #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel tlou x reader #joel x reader #willowsvalley #joel miller tlou #joel the last of us #joel x you #joel miller x you #joel tlou x you #joel the last of us x reader

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mayhem-neverending · 1 year

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What Should Have Been Expected

Part VI

VII

Word Count: 1,359

Note: Because of the nature of y/n, you’re going to be finely attuned to the storm... Idk, it’s a little intense for a moment, but I also had an intense morning, so.

Warnings: cursing

You and Kaoru had gone out back to practice taijutsu almost an hour ago. You kept up with him easily, despite having to practice in secret for years. It felt good to use your muscles and feel the impact of each hit.

You stopped abruptly to inhale the new scent in the air. “Y/n, what are you doing? Come on!”

“It’s going to rain,” you stated.

He paused and sniffed. “Yeah, and?”

You shook your head and resumed your stance. The light was beginning to fade, which was only hastened by the storm clouds moving in from the southwest. It was a beautiful sight against the reds and purples of the sunset.

The earth quieted as you blocked kick after kick, and with it came electricity pulsing through the atmosphere. You could feel it entering your body, invigorating you in the same moment you heard the first crack of thunder. It was like your body was being filled with the energy of the storm, and you became more alert, hitting quicker, moving more agilely and muscles strengthened.

The rain started coming down in torrents. Tobirama stepped out of the back door under the awning, likely to tell you both to come in, but was taken aback by what he saw.

It only took a few minutes for the yard to become slick and muddy. You could feel it splatter up your legs with each movement. You had gained the upperhand, energy coursing through you. You landed a punch to his abdomen and another to his face. Kaoru was barely able to keep from doubling over, but managed to land a kick.

You slid backwards on all fours. You could feel the mud compacting under your nails as you stopped. Your brother bent over a few feet away. You felt feral in the storm, and your brother was the prey. You funneled chakra into your haunches and lunged.

You collided with his chest, knocking him backwards into the ground. Your skin buzzed and the urge to bite down on his exposed neck was overwhelming.

“You win,” he spluttered beneath you, staring up with wide brown eyes.

You suddenly remembered yourself, and threw your head back in a full belly laugh. The cold rain spattered against your face wonderfully, and the buzzing calmed down. You climbed off and offered your hand to help him up.

“Well, I’d say that was a successful training session,” you chuckled.

You both walked towards the back door, where Tobirama still stood. He eyed you carefully, as if analyzing you. You cocked a brow at him when you caught his eye.

“Let me clean you both off before you go inside,” he was still scrutinizing you, but made hand signs, and you and Kaoru were doused with cold water that washed most of the mud off. It pooled on the concrete pad beneath your feet, and you stepped out of it to take your shoes off.

You went inside still soaking wet and made for your bathroom. A hot shower would do wonders, you decided. You stripped down and tossed your clothes on the edge of the tub. Stepping into the steaming water was heavenly, and you sighed.

You spent close to half an hour in the shower, thoroughly cleaning yourself, and working the dirt out from under your nails. When you finally stepped out, the cool air of the room was more than welcoming. You dried and wrapped the towel around yourself. When you opened the bathroom door, steam billowed into your bedroom.

You walked over to your dresser. “Y/n,”

A pleasant chill went down your spine at the low tone of voice. You turned around, surprised and curious as to why he was there. You watched Tobirama close the door behind himself, and your eyebrows shot up into your hairline. Thunder rumbled outside.

“I just spoke with my elder brother,” he crossed his arms across his chest, and his blue sweater strained against the muscle.

Now you were confused. “About?”

He stepped closer to you, and you readjusted your towel. You felt exposed under his piercing gaze. “Your Sage Chakra,”

“What the fuck is Sage Chakra?” You looked up at him dumbly.

A flash of surprise crossed his face. He considered you for a moment. “Sage Chakra is a chakra that you pull into your body from nature, and you balance it with your internal chakra and physical energy... You aren’t supposed to be able to use it without intense training,”

“I guess I’m still confused. Why do you think I’m able to use that kind of chakra?”

“When it is activated, the user develops black facial markings. You had rings around your eyes and stripes across your face. You resembled a tiger, in fact.” He looked at you with something akin to pride.

“I - I felt energy from the storm, but I didn’t know I was taking in chakra,” you were in awe.

How fucking cool is that? you thought.

“Interesting... I did notice before that you seem to have a connection with nature. Perhaps you should speak with Elder Brother. He could teach you to control it, even without a storm.”

You nodded slowly. He stared at you and you stared back. After a moment, you felt awkward again when you remembered you were only in your towel. You pointed towards the door.

“Can I get dressed now?”

Tobirama broke eye contact, a light blush flushing his cheeks. “Right, yes, I apologize,”

He left the room, shutting the door softly. You changed into an over-sized sweater and shorts. You weren’t sure what to think about this new information. You hadn’t considered yourself too adept in chakra usage before. You supposed you should save it for later, though, when you had a chance to speak with Hashirama.

You exited the room and walked quietly to the kitchen to make yourself a snack. Your brother was already there, rummaging through the fridge while Tobirama sat on the couch with a scroll and a glass of water. The puddles you and Kaoru made coming in were already dried, and you felt grateful that you got a man that actually helps clean up.

You found a mixing bowl and whipped up some edible chocolate chip cookie dough. You had a few bites, but it was too sweet so Kaoru was finishing off the rest with gusto.

You saw Tobirama look at you out of the corner of his eye a few times, and it made you wonder if you he didn’t like Kaoru’s presence. You figured that couldn’t be it, though, since he was in the living room rather than his office.

You checked the time, and were surprised to find that it was already ten. “Hey, I think I’m going to head to bed. Clean up your mess before you go to sleep, ‘kay?”

Your brother rolled his eyes at you as you ruffled his clean, fluffy hair. He pointed his spoon at you, mouth full, but thought better than to open his mouth. You grinned, and gave him a little wave as you walked to the hall.

You brushed your teeth and crawled into bed, pulling the heavy comforter up to your chin. You left the lamp on the other side of the bed on for Tobirama, but you half expected him not to come to bed.

When you were halfway to sleep you heard the click of the lamp, and felt the covers shift as he climbed carefully next to you. You smiled softly, or at least you thought you did, as you drifted off into a heavy sleep.

Tobirama laid next to you on his back, one hand behind his head and the other resting on his stomach. You were facing him in your sleep, and he couldn’t help the way he kept turning his attention back to you. He thought you looked cute, all tucked up in your blanket with your hair askew.

He smiled gently, and finally felt his muscles relax. He allowed himself to roll to his side to fully face you, having full intent to roll back over to sleep, but drifted off while studying your face.

#Tobirama Senju #Tobirama #Tobirama x reader #Tobirama Senju x reader #naruto #founders #taijutsu

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maddstermind · 2 months

Text

Words Into Potions Intro! Introducing...

~ Auberon Academy: Dark Things ~

Title: Auberon Academy (Book Three) - Dark Things Genre: Fantasy Mystery/Thriller Summary: Ashton and Sutton's quest to find the missing king is coming to a close, but not in the way they expected; Rosamund works with her loved ones to craft a way to finally get a step ahead of their enemies; Addison sets sail for Rasduk in hopes of finding a cure for petrification; and Christie returns from winter break to a terrible betrayal.

The strings of fate binding the four together are drawing closer and closer, as the mastermind is finally revealed and a specter is finally unmasked. The end is drawing near, and it's time to prepare for war.

Here is the tag I use for all Aubie-related things!

Below the cut I have a snippet for you! (From book two, as book three is not yet written!)

Darkness. It was oppressive and all-encompassing, making it hard to breathe or think, let alone move. Trapped with a dozen other small bodies, unprepared for the destruction that came with magic. A manifestation that came several years too early, spelling doom for them all. Behind the fear, there was still a lingering feeling. It was almost indescribable, and had simply been labeled "dark." It was a different darkness than that which surrounded the group, but persistent nonetheless. It had been persistent for some time now, hunting somewhere in the forest at the base of the mountain. Just as hope was fading and the darkness was on the verge of becoming permanent, there it was — light, bright and welcoming like an old friend. Then came desperate hands and arms, pulling the small, fragile bodies out of the rubble. One by one they tumbled out and went running to their parents, scared that their short lives were nearly ended in an accident. And then there was the culprit. He was pulled from the rubble by a hand that shone with the light of the suns, yet was cold to the touch. Their body was similarly bright but cold, and a sword hung off their side, the sharp blade hidden in its sheath, away from the curious fingers of children. Despite their cold exterior, they looked at the child with the fondness of a father, of a friend. A handsome, unmarred face, friendly eyes, and dark hair with pale streaks running through it. They looked like a hero. Something out of a fairytale. Someone who had helped already — and could maybe help more. He grabbed the cold, shining hand and kept the hero in place. "Please," his voice came out as little more than a whisper, after all the yelling and heavy breathing he'd done in the last however long. "Please, I need your help." They kneeled, holding his hand gently. "Let's find your parents, yes? You'll be safe with them." He shook his head. "There's something in the forest." "Something in the forest?" "I can feel it. I've been feeling it. It's… I don't know what it is. It's something dark. In the forest, by the mountain." "Something dark," they repeated, solemn. "Well, let me tell you this, child." They put their free hand on his shoulder, and gave a bright smile, full of teeth. "Not all dark things are bad." Their words calmed him, despite everything. He was still afraid, but less than he'd been before. He still trembled, but less so. The hero stood, dusting themself off. "How about this. I'll go check it out now. Just to make sure it's nothing dangerous. Alright?" He nodded. "I can take you there," he offered. "I can feel it, I can follow it." They shook their head, looking to the treeline. "No, you need to go home and rest up. You've had a tough day, but you've done a good job and have been very brave. I'll stop by once I've found out what it was. Alright?" Looking up at them, he believed they could do anything in the world. "Alright."

This is the prologue of book two, but it's where the phrase "dark things" starts in the series, so I thought it'd be a good excerpt!

#MS: WIP Intro #boberon #writeblr stuff #ch: POV Quartet #wip intro

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steddiebang · 7 months

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The Pizza Box Pact

Author: @pizzaqueen l Artist: @Goingsteddi3 l Artist: @cousin-itt Posting on Sunday, November 5

Eddie and Steve have been living together, working together, and raising their cat together for a few years, now, but they’re not together together. They’re friends—the best of—nothing more, and they’re happy. At least, Eddie is, and he thought Steve was too. But then he finds a pact they made, one drunken night ten years ago, where they pledged to ‘marry’ each other if they were still single by the time they’re thirty, and everything changes. Steve isn’t amused by the reappearance of the pact, seems almost upset by it, and Eddie figures it’s because he’s going to be thirty soon and doesn’t have a girlfriend. So, he does what any best friend would do: pledges to find Steve the perfect woman, setting him up on a series of unsuccessful blind dates. Somewhere along the way, Eddie rediscovers feelings that he thought he’d put aside years ago. He just hopes he hasn’t found them again too late.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

“Hey, Steve”—Eddie tumbles into the kitchen, waving the piece of cardboard—“check this out!” He thrusts the pact under Steve’s nose, glee bubbling in his veins as he waits for Steve’s reaction.

“Dude.” Steve leans back, setting down his mug of coffee and swiping the cardboard from Eddie. There’s this look of fond annoyance on his face, one that Eddie is more than familiar with, but it slowly fades as he reads the words written in Eddie’s janky hand. He gives the cardboard back to Eddie. “Why do you still have that?”

Eddie folds himself onto the chair across from Steve at the kitchen table. It’s this old chrome-edged formica thing—a little too kitsch for Eddie’s taste, and definitely too kitsch for Steve’s—that was left by the former residents, along with four mismatched chairs and a mug that says ‘stay cool’ with a picture of a big, yellow cat lying on a melting block of ice.

“You don’t get rid of a pact.” Sure, Eddie forgot about it in the ensuing years, but a pact is a pact. And, well, he likes yanking Steve’s chain.

“We were just dumb kids.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re pushing thirty and you’re still single.” Eddie waves the cardboard. “Time’s running out, man, you’re going to be stuck with me soon.”

“I’m already stuck with you.”

“True.” Eddie reaches for Steve’s coffee mug, but Steve bats his hand out of the way before he can grab it. “We’re practically married already, right? Live together, work together, raising our child together…”

As if on cue, Mercury pads into the room, stopping pointedly by her bowl and meowing. Loudly. Eddie pushes himself to his feet, dragging himself over to the cupboard.

“So everyone keeps saying,” Steve murmurs.

“Who says that?” Eddie gets out the cat food, stooping down to scratch his fingers under Mercury’s chin. “Did Daddy forget to feed you?”

“I didn’t forget,” Steve says, “and stop calling me that. She’s a cat, not our kid.” He crosses his arms over his stomach.

Eddie makes a show of gasping and covering Mercury’s ears. “She’s right here.” When Steve only grunts, hiding his face behind his mug, Eddie says, “So, who says we’re practically married?”

“No one.”

“Well, someone’s grumpy this morning.”

“Well, someone came in here while I was in the middle of my morning coffee, waving some stupid old piece of paper at me.”

Eddie’s brow furrows. He was expecting Steve to at least laugh about this, but he’s being weird. “I’m not actually going to hold you to the pact.”

“Didn’t think you would.”

Right. Time for a different tack. “Is this about you still being single?” Eddie pushes himself to his feet, ignoring Mercury’s indignant mew at leaving her unfed. “Because you’ll find someone. Maybe not by the time you’re thirty, but there’s plenty of time.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay.” The scent of cat food hits Eddie’s nose as he opens the tin; he makes a face and bends down to empty it into Mercury’s bowl. She’s already engrossed in eating when scratches her head again, and he huffs softly before he throws the empty tin out. “Well, being footloose and fancy-free isn’t so bad, is it?”

Eddie likes his life—their life—even if it’s not what he thought it would be. He’s swapped the dream of Madison Square Garden for a music store in Chicago, tour buses and a mansion for an old van and an apartment above the store, and he hasn’t gone on a date in months. Or longer. But he’s still bringing music to people via Corroded Vinyl, he still plays occasionally, and he has Mercury and Steve and their friends. It’s good.

“Dude,” Steve says, stomping over and pulling the empty cat food tin out of the trash, “I’ve told you a million times to wash these first.”

“Sorry. Haven’t had my coffee, yet.” Eddie grabs his favorite mug and pours some coffee into it, along with a healthy serving of cream and sugar. He waits for one of Steve’s usual remarks—about rotting his teeth, or clogging his arteries—but he doesn’t say anything. It sits uneasily. He blows on his coffee and adds, “Anyway, when was the last time I forgot? At least I, unlike a certain roommate who I won’t name, have learned to pick up my wet towels.”

Water drums against the sink, splashing up the sides as Steve runs the tin under the spray. “Whatever.”

“Do you know how gross it is to step on a cold, wet towel when you’re not expecting it?”

“You’ve survived so far,” Steve says, the tiniest hint of a smile playing on his lips and, for a moment, Eddie thinks this can all be forgotten, but the smile fades, and Steve adds, “I just… I’m getting kinda old for footloose and fancy-free.”

Eddie leans back against the counter near the sink; as Steve moves, his elbow brushes Eddie’s arm, and their hips bump once or twice. “I’m older than you.”

“I’m not you.”

“Okay, who pissed in your Wheaties?”

“No one.” Steve empties the sink, shakes the tin out, and dumps it back in the trash. “I’m going to open the store,” he says, stopping by the table to gulp the rest of his coffee before he heads out.

Eddie blinks at the space where Steve was a moment ago. “Well, that was weird.” He looks at Mercury. “You know what’s got into your second favorite dad?”

Mercury looks up at Eddie, then trots away.

“Very helpful, thanks.” Eddie shrugs and pours himself a bowl of Count Chocula; he spoons some cereal into his mouth and throws the pact in the trash, then takes it back out and sticks it on the fridge with a Snoopy magnet. He’s not throwing it away because Steve’s in a shitty mood.

Maybe Steve will find it funny when he’s woken up properly.

Read more on November 5!

#steddiebang23 #steddiebang23 upcoming projects

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ailendolin · 30 days

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Wonder - A BBC Ghosts Fic

Title: Wonder [AO3]

Characters: The Captain & Thomas, Kitty

Summary: On Easter Sunday, the Captain takes it upon himself to return a little magic to Thomas's life.

A/N: Happy Easter to all who celebrate! I hope you enjoy this little fic about the Captain and Thomas going on a little Easter Egg Hunt (though it probably will be a little different from what you expect).

————

Wonder

“The Easter Bunny!”

The Captain turned to Kitty with a fond smile. “Good morning to you too, Katherine.”

“Did you see him?” Kitty asked, ignoring his greeting. “Alison said he was here this morning and we’re going to look for the eggs he left behind as soon as Mia – oh, here they are!”

With that, Kitty dashed off to join Alison, Mike and Mia on their Easter egg hunt. The Captain’s smile faded as he watched her go. Moments like these were precious now. In only four weeks, the Coopers would leave and Button House would become quiet again, at least for a little while, and already every smile, every conversation, every moment they shared felt bittersweet and melancholic.

Kitty did not seem to be affected by it as much as the rest of them were, at least not yet, and the Captain counted it as a blessing. He was glad she got to enjoy the days they still had with Alison and her family without feeling the weight of their looming departure every waking moment. It would be bad enough when the day finally came – and not just for Kitty. They would all feel the Coopers’ loss keenly. Telling them it was okay to leave had been the right thing to do, though, and as much as he would miss them, the Captain couldn’t regret letting them go. There was a lightness to Alison’s steps now that hadn’t been there before, as if all the worries of the last five years had fallen away from her and she could finally breathe again. When she walked through the house or strolled through the gardens with Mia in her arms these days, her eyes were full of wonder. Instead of focusing on all the things that needed to be fixed, she began to see the beautiful aspects of the house now – the Tudor ceiling next to the drawing room upstairs, the warm, cosy atmosphere of the library, the cherry trees blossoming in the walled garden. Button House was no longer a burden. It had become a home again, and the Captain would rather have Alison appreciate it for a few short weeks than resent it for the rest of her life.

When he saw Kitty and the Coopers rounding the corner on their way to the garden, he got to his feet and joined Thomas by the window in the library. Thomas, he’d noticed had grown awfully quiet these last few days. There were no spontaneous bursts of poetry anymore, no declarations of love towards Alison, no softly hummed melodies as he wandered through the house by himself. He had taken to sitting in the corners, curled up as if he were cold and not saying much at all. The Captain had often longed for him to be silent like this but now that his wish had been granted he found himself missing the incessant chatter, ridiculous as that seemed.

“I’d have thought you would be joining them,” he said as he sat down next to Thomas.

“I saw Mike hiding the eggs earlier this morning,” Thomas said and pulled his legs a little closer to his chest. Kitty waved at them through the window, all happy smile and bright eyes. The Captain returned her wave with one of his own; Thomas’s hand did not so much as twitch. “I did not want to spoil the fun for them.”

The Captain regarded him for a moment before he said, earnestly, “That’s very kind of you, Thorne.”

Thomas grimaced at the use of his last name but did not comment on it. When the sound of Kitty’s excited chatter about the Easter Bunny and Alison’s patient explanations slowly faded away, he sighed. It was one of those long, drawn out, weary sighs the Captain had been unfortunate enough to be forced to listen to for almost eighty years now; the kind that almost always preceded a lovelorn rant about one thing or another, and he instantly felt an old, familiar prickle of annoyance between his brows. Turning to Thomas with a stern look, he was about to tell him not to ruin a perfectly good morning when Thomas said, very quietly, “I sometimes envy Kitty her excitement.”

Annoyance slowly melted into curiosity. “Whatever do you mean?”

Thomas sighed again and gestured towards the window. “Her world is full of magic. She learns about the Easter Bunny and simply believes in it.”

“Well, she probably didn’t see Mike marching through the gardens this morning,” the Captain felt the need to point out.

To his surprise, his words made Thomas look even sadder. “It’s not just that. We’ve always let her believe, Captain, and I … I never had that, growing up.”

He looked down at his knees again, and the Captain was suddenly struck by how young he looked. Like everyone else, he often forgot that Thomas was not much older than Kitty. He lacked her natural naivety and innocence. Smiles did not come easily for him, and while he could be quite silly and utterly ridiculous on occasion, his eyes had always born a sadness that seemed to overshadow whatever happiness and levity he managed to find in death. It made it only too easy to forget how terribly little he’d lived and how brutally short his life had been cut all those years ago.

“My mother did not believe in letting children enjoy such nonsense, as she called it,” Thomas said quietly. His left hand began to fiddle with the bloody cuff of his shirtsleeve – a nervous he probably wasn’t even aware of. “My childhood was bereft of magic. When I made up stories about the flowers in our garden and the fairies that lived in them, she called them childish and stupid and made me burn the pages I had written. There was no wonder in her life, so mine was not allowed to have any in it either.”

Some part of the Captain’s old, broken heart began to ache when Thomas fell silent and rested his chin on his knees. It was the most he had ever heard Thomas talk about his mother, and what he’d heard he did not like at all.

“Sounds like a rather lonely childhood,” he said quietly.

Thomas gave a one-shouldered shrug as if it didn’t matter. The sadness etched into his face, however, told a different story. “I did not know any better. But seeing Kitty now, seeing how she looks upon the world with such wonder in her eyes – I can’t help but wish that could be me, Captain. That I could believe in something as silly and harmlessly fun as the Easter Bunny and be out there with her right now, enjoying this moment with her and Alison instead of sitting here, feeling uninspired and sorry for myself.”

He turned away from the window, and as his gaze roamed over the books lining the walls around them, the Captain wondered how many of them he’d wanted to read as a child and wasn’t allowed to. He could see it clearly: Thomas, all big brown eyes and boyish smile, picking up a copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream at a friend’s house one day and bringing it home in excitement because it had fairies in it, and magic and, “Isn’t it wonderful, Mother?” Only for his mother to take it away from him and demand he, “Take it back. Such ridiculous things have no place in this house.”

Would she have punished him for his curiosity? Would she have gone so far as to beat the thirst for magic and miracles out of him until his imagination was so crippled he could no longer look at the world in wonder? The Captain did not ask but he thought it might explain why Thomas was so desperate to create and compose.

“Did you know the blackbirds have laid their eggs already?”

Thomas tore his gaze away from the books and blinked at him, confused by the sudden change of topic. “No?”

“They have,” the Captain said with a nod. “The blue tits too, actually. I’ve been meaning to check up on them. You can come along if you’d like.”

He did not know what made him say this. Perhaps it was the lost look in Thomas’s eyes that lacked any of his usual theatrics. Perhaps it was the fact that it had been weeks since the last time he had seen Thomas smile. Or perhaps it was just because a part of him felt sorry for Thomas; pitied him even.

Whatever the reason, the Captain found it hard to regret his offer when he saw the genuine surprise in Thomas’s eyes. “Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

He looked and sounded so desperately hopeful the Captain had to look away.

“As long as you hold your tongue and don’t scare the birds away with your silly rhymes,” he said brusquely before Thomas could do something as foolish as tear up and make this whole business any more awkward than it had to be. When Thomas pressed his lips tightly together in response, the Captain sighed. A little more softly, he added, “I know it’s not quite the traditional Easter Egg Hunt Katherine has embarked on but it will still be a magical experience. Trust me.”

And there it was – the faint beginnings of a smile, as beautiful and fragile as the dawn, and just as bashful.

“I do, Captain,” Thomas said softly, and taken aback by his honesty, all the Captain could think in that moment was, Oh. He’d be the first to admit he hadn’t done anything in the last eighty years to earn Thomas’s trust. If anything, he’d given Thomas plenty of reasons not to trust him. And yet here Thomas was, trusting his word, trusting him not to use this trust against him – almost as if he had been waiting for a moment like this; for someone to reach out.

Thinking of warm eyes and a kind smile pulling at a scar, the Captain realised he knew exactly what that felt like.

“Well, come on then,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. Ignoring his cracking knees, he placed the swagger stick under his arm and held out his hand to Thomas. “No time to dawdle.”

Thomas allowed himself to be pulled away from the window. It was not the first time they had touched but it was the first time they’d done so in a very long time, and it showed when Thomas’s hand lingered just a moment too long; as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go. It made the Captain wonder if that was another thing his mother had forced Thomas to live without: the comfort of a simple touch.

No wonder he had been desperate for a hug when he thought one of us would get sucked off, he thought as he led Thomas outside and into the walled garden behind the house where he knew the blackbirds had built a nest in one of the trees. Alone and unloved, indeed.

“Ah, there it is,” he said when he’d spotted the nest cleverly hidden among the young leaves on the tree.

Thomas followed his gaze up to the branches and a moment later, his eyes lit up with excitement. “I can see it!”

The Captain couldn’t help but smile. “Well done, Thomas.”

Unexpectedly, Thomas blushed under the praise and ducked his head. “Thank you. Do you know how many eggs are in it?”

The Captain did – four – but Thomas did not need to know that. “Why don’t we find out?”

They climbed the tree – a feat that shouldn’t be possible for them but the Captain had long since given up on applying logic to ghost rules. He kept his eyes on Thomas the whole time, waiting for the moment when he would be able to peer into the nest and–

Thomas’s eyes suddenly lit up in the same manner Katherine’s had this morning – with childlike wonder and excitement. It suited him, the Captain found himself thinking when Thomas turned around and mouthed in quiet awe, “There’s four eggs, Captain! Four!”

For all their differences, in that moment the Captain was glad could give Thomas this. He’d always known the world was full of wonder. It was in the banks where the wild thyme blew, the skies where the clouds journeyed and created art, and the melodies the songbirds sang each morning. It was all around them, in the little things in everyday life, and if he could just draw Thomas’s attention to them–

Well, the Captain thought as he watched the blackbird shoo Thomas away from her nest with angry chips that made Thomas scramble back and nearly loose his footing. Perhaps one day, Thomas would write poems about the wonders of the world rather than an idea of love he couldn’t quite grasp, let alone hold onto. Perhaps he would find it easier to smile then too, and the afterlife as a whole a little easier to bear.

“Sorry!” Thomas said with genuine remorse as he backed away from the tree. When the blackbird made no attempt to follow him, he turned to the Captain and chuckled self-deprecatingly. “That didn’t go well.”

The Captain gave him an amused look. “Never said it would be easy.”

“True,” Thomas acknowledged. He looked around the orchard, his mood not dampened in the slightest. “So, where to next?”

Allowing himself a small smile, the Captain used his swagger stick to point at one of the apple trees. “There might be another nest up there.”

And when Thomas, usually all graceful poise, skipped across the grass with such lightness and joy on his face, the Captain quietly found himself marvelling at the difference a small act of kindness could make as he slowly followed him to the tree.

#the captain #thomas thorne #kitty higham #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts fanfic #my fic

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helyiios · 6 months

Note

Inspired by that prompt from Snovyda, imagine Ethan finding Benji after he actually has tried to kill himself (if you’re comfortable of course, no worries if you aren’t)

TW : description of SH

There are a few things that scare Ethan Hunt. Eating too much junk food is one of them, along with reliving the loss of his first IMF team, having to go through the pain of seeing them die in front of his eyes without being able to do anything, to see the light fade from their eyes and their figures slump, cold against him.

Benji had been odd for the entire day...snappy, rude, even fully mean. He'd screamed at Brandt and slammed his coffee against a wall after messing up the same line of code three times, and he'd almost punched an analyst who'd had the bad idea to look out for him to get help about some data issue.

Which was worrying Ethan, were it not a little bit frightening him, too. It wasn't like he'd never seen Benji angry—the man had given him displays of displeasure plenty of times in their friendship, and it always took him aback, because there was a softness in his eyes that didn't quite fit the harshness of his words. But today was different, he could feel it.

He could feel it, and when Benji hadn't answered Brandt when he'd asked the team to get drinks, he'd started feeling uneasy. Then he hadn't answered Jane, Luther, and then Ethan had tried calling him, as a last resort, and the line had gone dead.

Working at the IMF means he's good at many things usual people are not, and that translates with him picking up his friend's door at 2 in the morning, the relentless ice cold of D.C's weather clawing at this skin as he was working his magic, finally feeling the locks give in.

It was the first time he'd gone into Benji's flat, actually, and he doesn't exactly know what to expect. It's big, for one, but he doesn't exactly know where his friend stands on the whole money thing. Surely the IMF pays well, especially when you're a field agent. But he did not have the same pay when he'd started, and he'd had this flat for at least 15 years. Which, hey. Maybe Benji had always been rich.

"Benj ?" he asks carefully, trying to see if there was any noise betraying the other's presence, "are you there ?"

Nothing.

He makes his way into the living room, surprised to see the lights turned off fully, save for the dim TV screen that was displaying a show he could not pinpoint, barely flooding the cold Chinese takeout in blueish light. The kitchen was bare, and the fridge was open, revealing one opened can of beer sadly tipped over the edge. He goes over to close it.

It's cold, he notes, and then sees that all the windows were open.

Don't panic, he swallows, forcing himself to go look over them, praying to every gods above to not find the other's body crumpled on the ground, covered in blood.

Nothing.

Good.

"Benji ? It's Ethan. I...I wanted to check up on you. You weren't picking up your phone."

Silence.

There's another quite massive room to his left, and the entire thing is covered in some trendy Hi-Fi stereos, along with four computers screens bathed in purple LEDs, close to a large chair and a rainbow lighted keyboard. He smiles to himself, appreciating the ambiance of the room.

Still no Benji.

There's something that tells him that he isn't in his room. It's a gut feeling he's been trying to ignore for the entirety of his trip to the flat, but the shivers on his body are impossibly to put aside now, and he feels his jaw tense.

Benji is okay, he tries to convince himself. Maybe he left in a hurry. Maybe he's out with friends.

You do not have friends, when you're working at the IMF. At least, not other than your colleagues.

He doesn't want to go to the bathroom.

He doesn't, because he knows the trope. He knows the clichés. He hates that he can see a faint light from under the room's door.

"Benji," he says again, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm going to come in."

He tries the handle. Locked.

It should take him 30 seconds to make his way in, but his fear gets the best of him.

What will he find, in there ? Does he want to know ?

He's so scared.

His hands are shaking when he finally pulls it open, and the scene in front of him is worse than anything he'd come up with.

He stumbles backwards, covering his mouth with his left hand, his breath dying in his throat.

Benji is slumped on the ground, surrounded by a small pool of blood, a pool that was overflowing from his left arm, the arm that was sliced in tens of small cuts, some larger than others, some red, some white, some across—

One along.

A long one, spreading from his wrist to the middle of his forearm, was bleeding out profusely, and Ethan screams out.

This shouldn't be happening.

This should not be happening.

I should have never left him alone.

"BENJI !" he yells, taking the other's face in his hands and checking for a pulse—faint, but present—and grabbing the first roll of toilet paper he can find to dabs at the scars, feeling his heart give out when the soaking overtakes the white immediately, too much, to deep, too red. "BENJI, WAKE UP, PLEASE, BENJI !"

How long had he been there ?

Some of the scars were already dry.

Blood dries in around an hour.

No.

"Fuck—FUCK !" he chokes out, taking out his phone and slamming the three numbers on the screen, trying to help with the hemorrhage, helpless, watching his friend's face pale more and more, feeling his pulse dim.

He should've never left him alone.

[9-1-1, what is your emergency ?]

Finally.

"It's my friend," he wheezes, trying to keep the tears away from his voice, "my friend, he's—he's in his bathroom, he's cut himself, I think—I think he tried—" breathes in, Ethan, "I think he's tried to kill himself, I'm trying to keep the blood in but it—there's a lot, and—"

[Okay, sir, does your friend have a pulse ?]

"Yes, yes, a small one, but it's fading, and I—"

[Alright, we're sending you an ambulance, can you give us the address ?]

Everything after this fades out.

He stares at Benji's unmoving face as he gives the informations, holds his hand, and it's so cold, and lifeless, and he feels burning tears trail their way along his cheeks, and slumps on him and cries, and cries, and begs him to wake up.

He begs him to show him his blue and golden eyes once again, to scream at him, to insult him, look at him annoyedly, anything, he'll take anything, please,

Benji, you're not supposed to be so cold, he whimpers, sobs shaking his entire body, you're the sun, you're not supposed to be so cold.

Wake up, Benji, please, for me ? Wake up.

Wake up.

There are stocks of bloodied toilet paper lying on the ground by the time help comes, and he's forcefully pulled from him as the other is lifted on an ambulance stretcher, and he says, yes, I'm his best friend—I need to come with you, please, I need to make sure he's okay.

"Sir, we need to know," one of the paramedics asks, and their voice is so soft it makes him violent, "is it the first time you found him like that ?"

Yes. Yes.

"Yes," he harshly replies in between the tears, "I don't know how—I—"

"There are other, older scars on his arms, this is not a one time thing. Hopefully this is the first and last time it's gone to such lengths."

No, he can't have other scars.

Benji can't have been doing this to himself.

Benji...Benji is—

"I didn't know," Ethan sniffles, voice high pitched, rubbing the unforgiving tears from his blood stained cheeks, "I didn't know, I didn't—"

"It's alright, sir," the paramedic, bless them, whispers back, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You friend is going to be okay. We're going to help him."

I would rather have to face a new nuclear threat tomorrow than have to see Benji like this anytime more.

Stay with me. Stay with me.

#mission impossible #mission impossible fic #benthan #benji dunn #ethan hunt #ask #anon

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houseofbreadpakoda · 9 months

Text

Naatpu - 1

Ponniyin Selvan X Bahubali Crossover.

Vandiyathevan was leaving to Lanka in a day. The orders of the devi herself. His devi. Poonguzhali, well versed with the route to the lankan shore had agreed to take him.

"We'll leave tommorow afternoon" she mumbled biting off a piece of coconut. "Tommorow? What am I supposed to do till then?" Groaned Vandiyathevan. "Well, you're in Chozha Nadu. One can find many things to do around here" she replied walking towards the harbour. "Remember to meet me at the harbour tommorow by noon." Vandiyathevan knew what he was going to do.

Aditha had spoken about a certain Kuntalan princess, who he'd met while returning from his first war. He and a few other soldiers, had halted there for a day. In the short span he'd gotten to be around the princess, he'd developed a liking towards her. "She'd understood me and healed me like no other. I gained a true friend that day."

Someone capable of understanding let alone healing Aditha? Now Vandiyathevan was too intrigued to let go of such an opportunity. The kingdom was four hours away, he'd make it just before sunset if he rode fast enough.

Vandiyathevan had begun to churn stories to convince the princess as to the reasons for his visit. He could say he ran out of water, and although he was fine, his horse was about to faint of thirst. Or rather, that he had fought the Pindari soldiers on his way to the palace and was injured.

He'd now reached the bastions of the palace. He hopped off his horse and introduced himself to the soldiers "I'm Vallavarayan Vandiyathevan, Aditha Karikalan's nanban."

The soldiers face immediately turned sober, "The yuvarani was expecting you" he smiled sending a nod to the other soldiers who opened the gates for him, confusing Vandiyathevan.

The palace was much smaller compared to the others he had seen. A young boy took Semba into the stables, as a daasi led him towards the meeting chambers of the palace. "Yuvarani Devasena will be here in a moment." She informed him. The kingdom was a heavy contrast to thanjai. The walls of the palace were made of marble. Agriculture seemed to be the major occupation. The palace itself looked quite whimsical and fable like.

"At last, we meet!" He heard a voice behind him. In a moment he knew what Aditha had felt. "Made us wait a little too long hmm Vanthiyare? Please do sit!" said Devasena leading him to a settee, seating herself too. There was something so warm about her aura, that made one feel, seen and included. "Karikalar had informed me that you'd be visiting. We've been eagerly waiting for you since then."

"Ilavarase knew I was coming? How- I myself hadn't planned on visiting until today morning".

"He'd informed me, that you were in thanjai and you were likely to come here if you got into any trouble. What he also told me was that he wouldn't be surprised, if you made up an excuse, just to come to Kuntala." said Devasena, a smile now playing on her lips.

Vandiyathevan winced. Aditha knew him too well.

The two had gobbled up a scrumptious meal which compensated for all the running and falling and dancing Vandiyathevan had performed. "Aditha has spoken quite a bit about you" Devasena said drying her hands. "Oh I can say the same! Ilavarase believes you changed him as a person, for the better. He told us that you understood him when nobody else could. Rather, that was what drove me to meet you."

Devasena's smile faltered, her eyes fading into melancholy. "He was so happy. He'd met the love of his life then. One would never guess a man like him to be so extremely mushy when it came to love. Oh and the way he took her name. As if it were a prayer, or a chant rather. Nandhini." Her eyes traced back to Vandiyathevan who looked almost bewildered.

"Nandhini?" He asked gulping slightly. "He hasn't mentioned?" Asked Devasena, a tinge of concern slipping into her voice, "Oh why did I have to bring her up after so many years. He has probably moved on. Must have, if he hasn't mentioned her to anyone. Back then, he wouldn't stop chirping about her for a moment."

"He hasn't." He spoke breaking his silence, "Atleast, I don't think he has. I always wondered what drove him to the insanities he committed. It isn't common for one to think about conquering another kingdom, while still washing the blood off their hands from the war of the previous one." He looked back at her, eyebrows furrowed. "And i don't think she's moved on either."

"Who, Nandhini?" Devasena's gaze grew sharper by the second. "You met Nandhini?" Vandiyathevan nodded. A sharp exhale escaped Devasena's mouth. "Don't mention it to Aditha unless he asks you so himself. And if he does, do not lie." Vandiyathevan understood.

The room fell silent for a moment. "But Karikalan and.......love? To such extents?" Devasena tried to speak, but couldn't utter anything. Things were conveyed, in plain silence.

"Well speaking about love...." sighed Devasena, "How are you doing? Romantically that is."

Vandiyathevan was taken aback and amused all at once. He stared blankly at her, waiting for context, realising immediately that he wasn't going to get any. "I- I'm sorry yuvarani, I don't think I'm following?" Vandiyathevan asked shaking his head.

"Oh please Vanthiyare, I heard you've met Kundavai?"

Vandiyathevan's eyes widened, as a slight blush crept up his face. Is that what it was. Had Aditha tried to-? No. it could not have been.

"Hey, Aditha set you up himself. What are you worried about?"

Vandiyathevan looked around the room uncomfortably, the awkwardness reaching to him. "Yuvarani, I think there has been a slight misunderstanding. I met Kundavai Devi only to spill whatever I had spied and learnt."

Devasena sighed, moving closer to Vandiyathevan. "Vanthiyare, firstly, please call me Devasena. Secondly, why are you in such denial? You clearly like Kundavai. Or, a little more than like i supposee"

"Yuvarani-"

"Tsk tsk"

"-I have no feelings towards the Ilavarasi."

"Vallava! Your face is as red as a ruby."

"No?!-"

Vandiyathevan stopped, as soon as his eyes caught himself in the mirror across their table. His face had turned into a brighter shade of red, than the ink he had painted his face with for the MaayaKannan Recital. What had he done to himself. Since when had he begun to blush? He slightly smoothened his moustache before turning back to Devasena. She had now propped her chin on her hand, smiling wide at Vandiyathevan.

"But I'm just a soldier. With no land or identity. How could one even dream of such things at my stature?

"Why not? Who hasn't heard of Vallavarayan Vandiyathevan? Aditha Karikalan himself sings his name to every creature he meets. Imagine the stature of a man who rules the sky above him and every piece of land he stands on."

Ah, so it was Yuvarani who'd influenced Ilavarase to speak such words of motivation. The similarity in their thinking and choice of words, surprised Vandiyathevan.

"The thing about love is, it just happens vallava. Before you realise it, you've fallen for them. And they for you. People fall in love with souls, not bodies, and definitely not with statures. Knowing you, you must've already charmed her. And knowing Kundavai..." Vandiyathevan's eyes perched up, "she might as well be thinking about you right now."

Vandiyathevan sank back into his chair, exhaling sharply.

"Cause you're a little too precious."

His gaze met her's.

"The only reason I thought Aditha had moved on is because of how cheerful he was the last time he'd visited. But now that i think about it, i think it was all because of you. He'd gone on and on about you. So much so that Nandhini would be jealous if she were present."

Said Devasena breaking into a fit of laughter as Vandiyathevan joined her too.

"Before you know it you've fallen for them...." Repeated Vandiyathevan. "Who is it?" He asked abruptly, interrupting her thoughts. Devasena fumbled, her eyes blinking vigorously.

"Sounds like you speak with a lot of experience yourself."

Devasena smiled thinking about the love sick fool she'd fallen for. Vandiyathevan grinned jumping back into his element.

"So.....?" He asked bending forward resting one palm on his knee while the other held up his chin, raising an eyebrow, mockingly. Devasena chuckled throwing a pillow at him.

That day, he'd gained a new friend. A true friend.

If Devasena wasn't Devasena i would've made her fall for Vandiyathevan. I'm not kidding.

@whippersnappersbookworm @thereader-radhika @thegleamingmoon @yehsahihai @thelekhikawrites @harinishivaa @celestesinsight @chiyaanvikram @ragkee

#ponniyin selvan #bahubali #ponniyin selvan X Bahubali #Devasena #Vandiyathevan

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georgiesgirl1223 · 7 months

Text

Unearthed Secrets

Professor Lupin and female student reader (of age 16-17)

This is meant to be part of a bigger story but I just had this in my head and had to get it out. Also this is the first thing I've been able to write in nearly 4 years so I'm a little rusty and I apologize. I also didn't proof read.

This is when the reader finds out Lupin's big secret.

Warnings: mentions of blood, being naked, slight hints at sex

Word Count: 3256

It was the night after the full moon when Remus Lupin stumbled out of the of the tunnel leading from the Shrieking Shack and onto the dewy grounds of Hogwarts. It was a cool autumn evening and a light rain had begun to fall as he treaded his way, limping and sore, past the Forbidden Forest and up stone steps into Hogwarts Castle. The great wooden door creaked as he slowly opened it enough for him to slip inside. A draft smelling of old books and burning torches swept over his worn and scarred face as entered, inhaling deeply at the familiar scent and he knew he was almost home. Just a little further down into the dungeon where he preferred his chambers to be, and he would be in the welcome solitude of his sanctuary. All he wanted was a hot shower to wash the dried blood and dirt off his toned but battered body and then to fall into bed and fall into the coma like sleep both his body and mind needed. He needed to forget, wipe away the debauchery of the previous night from his brain. The fighting, the endless unquenchable hunger, the battle to just survive took its toll on his body, mind and soul each month and he just wanted to lock himself away to forget.

Remus had disappeared for three days, hiding himself away from the students and professors of Hogwarts, not only to prepare himself for the eventual change that always came, but to keep his dirty shameful secret, the secret that only few knew, that he was a werewolf. Remus knew that the parents and school governors alike would not appreciate a werewolf teaching their children. He couldn’t fathom that anyone would accept him for who he truly was so Remus decided to hide away, especially during those times close to the full moon when he knew he was the most on edge. This is how he lived his life, in solitude, alone, withdrawn from others around him and not letting anyone in, well almost anyone.

After descending several flights of stone staircases Remus had at long last reached his oak chamber door. Cautiously he opened the door, not wanting to alert anyone of his presence, and stepped inside feeling a warmth and glow he did not expect. Closing the bedroom door behind him he looked around searching for the source of the warmness. Glancing Remus noticed there were several candles lit casting soft shadows and a crackling fire already lit in the large stone hearth. Then his gaze fell onto her wrapped in one of his oversized cardigans and curled up in the middle of his cozy, plush, kind sized four poster bed.

Remus knew it was wrong, starting a relationship with a student even if she was of age, but he couldn’t help himself. Her shy affectionate glances she gave him, the warm smiles she gave him, the mischievous but tender glints in her eyes, it melted his heart and softened his demeanor. It began as harmless flirtations shared between the two, then it turned into private defense lessons with soft slight touches and shared jokes. The more time Remus spent with her the more he could feel his resolve fading. Then one night he found himself alone in this very room with her and that’s when it happened. His lips found hers in a shy unknowing kiss, looking deep into her eyes for approval as she leaned into him. The next kiss was more passionate, deeper and raw with emotion. He pulled her small frame into his towering one, snaking one arm around her waist with the other cupping her cheek. Their shared affection and devotion becoming more evident with each passing moment. From that night on she often snuck down to his chamber to spend the night together. They would spend their time talking into the early hours of the morning about everything and nothing, or him holding her in his strong arms with her head on his chest as he read to her. Remus didn’t want to push anything with her, respected and cared for her far too much to press the issue of sex. He knew when she was ready, she would come to him. But it didn’t matter to him, she meant the world to him, and he was perfectly happy spending these shared nights together, forming a deeper type of intimacy.

Now he stood staring at her curled all alone in his bed and as he stepped closer guilt ripped at his insides. Remus noticed her tear-stained face and the discarded tissues strewn about the bedside. He didn’t tell her that he was leaving, wanted to protect her from who he was, wanting to keep this tryst going for as long as he could without having to reveal his deepest darkest secret. She had no clue where he had gone, if he had left the school or if he had left her, no clue if he was even coming back, but here she was waiting for his return all the same. Remus reached out a hand and gently ran it down her soft wet cheek making her stir and quietly call out his name not even knowing if he was there.

“Remus” she softly hummed in her sleepy state.

“It’s me puppy, I’m right here” he whispers as he sat down on the bed.

Smiling at the loving nickname he had given her (because she always looked up at him with puppy dog eyes), she reached out for him, silently praying that this was not another dream but that he was truly there this time. Reaching out she found his hand and their fingers instantly entangle as she gently flitted her eyes open. Love and tenderness were all Remus saw as he looked down into her eyes, a look he mirrored back to her. As she sat up in bed the candlelight flickered, and she was now able to see the state he was in, and concern was instantaneous on her face. She noticed his wet, torn and bloodstained shirt, the bags under his eyes and the tired bloodshot look in his eyes.

“Remy” she questioned, raised her hand to gently push the sweaty matted hair from his eyes.

“What happened?” He fingertips lightly brushed over the deep bloodied gash on his cheek.

Remus looked down clearly ashamed and unable to meet her tender gaze.

She stiffened a little but kept her calm and caring composure. “Remus, if something has happened, if there is someone else, you can tell me.” She grabbed both his hands in hers. “Whatever it is we can work through this together, just be honest with me please”.

His heart sank even lower at the remark that she thought that there could be anyone else but her. Squeezing her hands in his and looking up forcing himself to meet her loving gaze he opened his mouth to speak.

“Puppy, darling there is something I need to tell you. Something that I have been keeping from you.” Remus tried to reposition himself and she noticed him wince in pain. “There is nobody else pup, but there is something I need to get off my chest and you’re the only person I trust telling now.”

Noticing him grimace in pain again she placed a delicate kiss to his lips to quiet him. “You can tell me everything later, right now let’s get you cleaned up.”

Remus just nodded, appreciation and shock written on his face as he allowed her to lead him into the bathroom and lean him against the counter as she began to draw him a hot bath in the large clawfoot tub placed in the center of the room. He watched her in awe as she took care of him, not questioning him not pressing the issue, she was there simply because she cared, maybe even loved him. Lighting more candles and turning off the water she walked over to him and with slow nimble fingers began to unbutton his ripped shirt, pulling it off his sticky sweaty skin and exposing both his large muscular form but all his scars and scratches all over his back and chest and she let out a muffled gasp. Stepping back from him he bit her lip and darted her eyes on the floor as a slight flush rushed into her cheeks. They had never seen each other naked before and although this was going to be the first-time seeing Remus without clothes this felt different. This was intimate, passionate but not sexual in any way. She admired his form as he undressed and lowered himself into the steaming hot water, hissing as the heat stung at his open wounds. His head lulled back as his worn eyes met hers. Slowly she removed the cardigan of his she was wearing, revealing the bra and underwear she wore beneath before she nervously and timidly removed the two items of silken lacey clothing. Remus cherished every move that she made but trying to be respectful of her shyness at the same time. Standing in front of him exposed and defenseless in the steamy candlelit warmth she felt revered, cherished, admired. Feeling more confident she tiptoed over to the tub and immersed herself into the water behind him, wrapping her legs around his torso. Reaching for a washcloth she dabbed at his bloodied back, washing his fresh wounds and placing soft kisses across his back over his healed scars. She took her time, letting him relax into her touch and making sure to cleanse every wound. After addressing each injury, she discarded the red stained cloth, washing his hair, rubbing his shoulders and allowing him to melt into her.

Remus felt every muscle in his body relax instantly under her touch, every wound seeming magically healed under her caress. He never had this is his life, someone that cared for him, took care of him, someone he admired, adored and trusted. It was at this moment, consumed by her actions that he realized his true feelings for her. He was in love, an emotion he had tried to avoid for most of his life. He was always enamored with her since the day she had stepped foot in his class, but now as she sat there, attending to him with no questions asked he was utterly captivated. That was also the moment when guilt punched him in the stomach once again. Remus did all he could to push the anguish from his conscience. If only for this tiny moment, just to allow himself to savor every moment, memorizing this time with you because after what he must tell you, it could be the last. He wanted to engrave every feather touch, every gentle kiss, every adoring look you gave him into his brain. He wanted this moment to last forever, but alas it was fleeting just like all the others.

As she sat there with her limbs wrapped around him, her head laying on his back, the soft rattle of his breath reverberating through her body, she was certain that she would do anything for this man. This man exerts a calming reassurance whenever she was with him, and she knew he would never intentionally hurt her. Although his secretive nature and disappearance irked her, she trusted him implicitly and knew he will tell him what she needed to know when he was ready.

Taking a deep breath and steeling himself for what was about to come, he abruptly stood and stepped out of the cooling water, wrapping a towel around his hips. She looked up at him as he offered her his hand, pulling her out and engulfing her in a fluffy towel and pulled her into his chest. Remus enveloped her small frame in his strong arms and pressed his rough lips to her forehead, inhaling deeply before pulling away and dressing himself in lounge pants and a t-shirt. While doing so he respectfully turned his back, allowing her some privacy to redress into her silken lace undergarments and his oversized cardigan. Stepping out into his bedroom the air was heavy with silence and a twinge of awkwardness. They walked over to the four poster and sat down as she turned to face him, cradling his calloused hands in hers.

“Remus, you know you can tell me anything right?” She asked, caressing his palms with her thumbs.

He glanced at her, tears welling in his eyes as he stood and paced the room, absentmindedly running his hands though his hair. Pausing to take a deep breath he blurted out “I’m a werewolf.” The words stumbled out of his mouth like an incoherent jumble. Remus looked at her now, pleading “I’m so sorry darling, I’m a werewolf.” Anxiety now took over as he continued to pace the room, rambling as he told his story. “I was four when it happened. I was with my father who worked at the ministry when a convicted lycanthrope was attempting escape, and I was just a small boy who happened to be in the way.” Remus was beginning to become agitated, clearly projecting the loathing he felt towards himself, a loathing he assumed you developed towards him. He continued to recall his story, speaking more animatedly and waving his hands in frustrations. “From that point my friends and family became wary of me, and my parents did all they could to try and find a cure but to no avail. Their efforts were futile and when they realized I would forever be a lycanthrope they abandoned me. I was just a child trying to scavenge to survive and navigate this new life, a life alone. That is when a came across a pack of werewolves and they adopted me as one of their own.”

Tears silently streamed down her face as she listened to him tell his story, revealing his deepest secrets. She felt nothing but love and empathy for the man before her. Though complicated and dangerous this world, his world may be, it did not change her feelings toward him. In fact, she felt closer to him than ever before. They had shared so much during their many all-night talks, but this was one subject, their childhoods, neither of them ever brought up. Hearing about his plight and how his parents abandoned him, she felt remorse.

Not daring to look at her, not wanting to see the contempt he believed was written across her face he crossed the room and sat in a plush armchair opposite the bed. He hung his head in his hands as the hot tears of same and guilt began to fall. “I’m so sorry pup. I never meant for you to be a part of this. I never wanted you to be a part of this world of this dark side of my life.” He began to sob, catching his breath as he went on. “I’ve never let anyone into my life before, not like this. And then you came into my life. You walked into my classroom like a ray of sunshine, of hope. I was completely smitten with you from day one and as we grew closer, my affections for you flourished as well. I knew I shouldn’t, but I let my guard down, I permitted myself to let you in, to become close, devoted, attached. Now all I have done is put you in danger. Darling, if anything ever happened to you, especially at my hand, I don’t know what I’d do, I’d probably die.” Heaving through continued sobs he glanced at his bare feet, unable to even look up at you. He knew it would only make it worse if he looked up and saw the pained disgust of the reaction, he assumes you have. “You probably hate me now and I wouldn’t blame you if you did, I hate me right now. I just need to tell you one more thing, I love you puppy, and I always will. But I think you should leave, I don’t know if I can trust myself around you, I don’t want you to get hurt.” Taking a deep breath, he heaved a great sigh as a pained relief washed over him. Remus no longer harbored any secrets from you. He was now an open book to you, vulnerable to any of your prodding. Looking up, tears still streaming down his cheeks, he was finally able to meet your eyes. He was unable to read her expression as she wiped her own tears on the cuff of his cardigan.

Silently she stood, and his heart sank, believing that she was about to walk out forever. To his amazement she stepped over to him, running her hands along his shoulders she sat down on his lap. Looking deep into his eyes she wiped away his tears, her touch soft and gentle. Shock and incomprehension swirled in his brain as he stared back at her. She delicately brushed her lips against his before pulling back and lightly running her fingers down his cheek, never losing eye contact. “I love you too Remy.” Her words although only a whisper rang in his ears as he tried to grasp what he had just heard. Noticing the disbelief etched on his face she repeated “I love you Remy, and I’m not going anywhere. You may not trust yourself, but I trust you and that’s all that matters.

“I love you so much puppy. I’m so sorry and I hope that one day I can earn your forgiveness, not just for keeping this secret but for putting you in danger.”

“Remus, there is nothing to forgive. I am grateful that you told me, but I also know that you would have told me in your own time. And as for you putting me in danger, I feel safe with you Remy and I know that you would never intentionally put me in harms way.”

There was nothing to say, how could you be so forgiving and understanding of his condition. How was he so lucky to find you. What did he do right in his life to be so deserving of your unconditional love and adoration. There was nothing but that comfortable silence that you two so often shared. It was back as if nothing had changed between the two of you. He wrapped one arm around your waist, peering into your soul as his fingertips brushed the hair from your face, tracing down your delicate features before cupping your cheek. It was instantaneous, his lips crashed onto hers, delicate yet hungry his tongue explored hers in the passionate embrace he thought he would never experience again. Time seemed to have stood still as the embrace continued, their lips never parting, their hands ever roaming. Panting they pulled away, Remus placing one last tender kiss to her swollen lips before resting his forehead against hers.

“Remy?” she asked shyly, her voice barely audible.

“Yes pup?’“I think I’m ready, I know I’m ready. I love you Remy and I want to be with you.” The words came out in a shaky breath as she fiddled nervously with the collar of his shirt. Biting her lip, she looked up only to be met with his intense loving gaze. She wanted him, wanted him like she never wanted any man before. But before she could be with him, give herself fully, surrender herself wholly, mind, body and soul, she needed to reveal her deepest secret to him.

#harry potter universe #harry potter fanfiction #remus x reader #remus lupin #remis lupin #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff

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noteveryoneis · 9 months

Text

Ava Silva’s trademarks are the mistakes she makes along the way.

She knows that, her ex knows that, her kids know that, even the cat lady across the street knows that. Everyone in her little hometown knew that.

Everyone and their mothers thought Ava Silva had hit rock-bottom when she ended up knocked up at sixteen years old by her stupid little high school boyfriend, but no, Ava kept digging. She just had to keep the baby, marry the guy and move out of the state to have two more kids with him before the age of twenty-four. JC was a good guy, he loved her, loved their girls, he was kind and he cared about them. Until he didn’t, breaking up with Ava and asking her to take full custody of the girls, without a single afterthought.

“We weren’t ready,” he had said. “I’m not ready to be a father.”

Good thing he had realized that now, their first baby was almost into her pre-teen at that point — and she had glared at him from the darkness of the hallway of their shitty little apartment as Ava sat across from him at the kitchen table, defeated.

So it’s expected for this new decision to turn out to be another mistake. Even Ava knows it.

Still, it looks good, on paper. A fresh new start. Just the four of them, Ava and her girls. Back to her hometown, the place she knows by heart and could navigate with her eyes closed. Hell, she even found a job and a whole new house — small and cramped but like Camila said it herself: “The good thing about growing up in social housing is that whatever you find here, it’s gonna look like Disneyland to them”. And yeah, she wasn’t wrong.

Ava turns right into the small driveway surrounded by yellow grass and sun-burnt rose bushes — she’s pretty sure they can save them, with determination and a lot of research on Google. The girls have their noses to the windows, except for Neves who is asleep in her child car seat. The eight hour drive has exhausted them all, the car is covered in sandwich crumbs, coffee mist — Ava’s lifesaver at that point — and Takis dust. She’s pretty sure she has a sunburn mark all around her sunglasses, but she doesn’t really know if she can get sunburned through the windshield — fingers crossed that she isn’t.

“There it is,” Ava announces as she turns off the ignition. “Our new home.”

Dear God her divorce is turning her into a middle-aged white suburban dad in a horror movie.

“It’s ugly,” Nina comments from the back seat, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not choosing it for its pretty face, bug,” Ava says, holding onto her patience like a life buoy (Nina hates everyone and everything since they have announced their separation, even more when it became clear that Ava was separating her from her father). “We’re choosing it because it has a roof and four walls, and good water pressure.”

And because it’s basically the only thing affordable that isn’t in a trailer park.

“I like it,” Nova comments timidly from the passenger seat.

Ava smiles at her, sending her a wink. At least that one is making it easy.

“Come on, let’s go, it’s gonna be night soon.”

The truck with their things will be here tomorrow, Camila will come to help them and properly meet the girls (according to the texts she had been sending Ava for the last few weeks, she was overly excited and bouncing around at the idea of being so close to ‘her girls’).

Ava opens the creaking door, climbs out of the car, grimacing as the joints in her knees crack painfully. Yeah. She’s definitely a middle-aged dad. The wind carries the smell of the sea all the way here, washing away the nauseous aroma of Takis and coffee, Ava already feels like she can breathe a little better.

Neves’ little head is leaning on the headrest of her car seat, cheeks red, curly dark hair drawing a halo around her little face. She looks absolutely adorable. They all did, her girls, at that age. Well, they’re still cute today, but it’s like Nova’s presence is slowly fading away from her face, and Nina was always the more flashing beauty — all in bright smiles and charming light in her eyes, just like her parents.

Ava takes great care as she unbuckles her little harness, reaching up to brush against her cheek and the softness of her eyelashes. Her baby. Her babies, they’re all her babies.

Nina wiggles out of her seatbelt, bringing Ava back to the task at hand.

“You girls go ahead, I’ll be right there to open the door.”

“Okay,” Nova says, unbuckling herself and climbing out, Nina jumping behind her.

Ava brushes her lips against Neves’ forehead, stroking the pad of her thumb across her cheek.

“Wake up, baby, we’re here.”

Neves shifts in her seat, but doesn’t even open her eyes.

“Come on, Neves, wake up, cutie-pie, we’re home now.”

Neves shakes her head, eyes still close.

“No? You don’t want to see your room?” Ava asks, giggling a little. “Damn. That’s too bad. Guess I’ll watch Paw Patrol all alone with the girls huh. That’s sooo sad.”

That gets Neves to open one eye, squinting at her mother as if trying to call bullshit on her. Ava raises an eyebrow and Neves stretches her arms over her head, whining loudly as if to convey how tired she is. Life is hard when you’re a five year old sleeping in a car.

“I know, baby, I know,” Ava says. “Come on now, let’s go see the house.”

She reaches out and picks Neves up, hugging her to her chest with one arm under her legs as the girl ties them around her waist, burying her face in her neck. Ava pushes the door closed, makes her way around the car towards the front of the house while searching for her keys in the pockets of her shorts. Both Nova and Nina are waiting for her on the porch — yes, the porch, Ava is very proud of that one — stretching their arms, little t-shirts riding up to show their tummies. Once upon a time, Ava and JC used to tickle them every time they’d do that, starting a tickle fight that JC always won. It’s when Nova started expressing that she didn’t want that that things got a little tense, since her father didn’t understand and would get offended.

Ava shakes her head, wiggles her keys as she slides them into the lock, the key ring that Nina made for mother’s day in pre-K jiggling against her palm.

The door opens into a dark room that smells musty but that’s probably because all the windows and shutters haven’t been opened for weeks.

“Here we are,” Ava says, turning the lights on.

An endless room stretches in front of them, turning to the right around the staircase, which is right next to the door, after the narrow hallway leading to the smallest bathroom. Ava can already see the vision: the thrifted couch and chairs, the living room table they found on the sidewalk, the cushions the girls use for a pillow fight. It will all be their space, theirs and theirs alone.

“The kitchen is all the way to the right,” Ava explains as Nova and Nina start running ahead, slowly hyping themselves up for the discovery of the house. “There is a small bedroom behind the door after the stairs, I assume it’s gonna be mine if you take the three bedrooms upstairs.”

“Wait what?”

Both girls come back running, Nina with a confused frown on her face.

“Three bedrooms?”

“Yeah, and there is another bathroom with a bathtub for all three of you, but I gotta warn you: I’m taking a bath in there at least once every two weeks.”

“We all get a bedroom?” Nina asks again, like she didn’t hear a word of that.

“Yeah, I already told you— didn’t I tell you?” Ava frown.

“You did,” Nova whispers, cheeks turning red in embarrassment. “But we didn’t know…”

They didn’t know if she could pull it off. They didn’t know if she wasn’t going to come back empty handed with a guilty and sorry look on her face, telling them that she didn’t get the place and that they were living in the trailer park after all. Ava doesn’t blame them. They’ve both done that a lot.

“So we don’t have to share?” Nina asks.

Ava shakes her head, dropping a kiss into Neves’ hair.

“Nope. Although you’re going to have to decide which one of you gets which room.”

There is a beat of silence as they all look at her, and then both of the little girls are running up the stairs, yelling at each other as Neves asks to be put down and climbs after her sisters, disappearing into the dark.

“No running into the stairs!” Ava yells, but no one listens.

All three of the girls are all shouting in a concert of little voices, trying to decide which room is the biggest — Nina is going to win, because Nova doesn’t fight, she always takes the things her sisters don’t want (bottom bunk, ugliest towel, most-worn out shoes) but right now she’s trying to cheer Nina up, and because Neves, poor little Neves, was unfortunately born to be the youngest of her sisters, and therefore she loses every single argument.

Ava shakes her head in the middle of the front door, a smile tugging at her lips.

She’s a middle-aged white suburban dad from a horror movie, and her girls are okay.

#fic: strangers in this town #ava silva #warrior nun #*entrapta voice*: ask me about my stories I've waited years to talk about my stories #jc is a douche in this au even though the og is the one and only straight boi i don't hate

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