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1d1195 · 6 months

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Dolcezza II

Read the first part here: Dolcezza

Glad we liked the first part so much! More tooth-rotting cuteness, sweetness, fluff, and the tiniest bit of angst.

This part (as is tradition with my second parts) doesn't really make a whole lot of cohesive sense, but the next parts should be a little more put together as a whole.

~6.7k words

“I think I would let her break m’heart,” he told Niall while they cleaned the kitchen at the end of the night about a month after she had moved in. His infatuation never wavered. But he admired her from afar. “I’d thank her,” he smiled to himself as he pretended the gravity of such a statement was a joke. Not nearly as big a deal as Niall knew it to be.

He knew he was staring. From the second he laid eyes on her, the staring started. There was no other way to describe what had happened. Harry was overwhelmed with how pretty she looked. She emanated beauty and kindness like perfume. Harry was sick with how much he adored it. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was her sole purpose in life just to look so beautiful and make him, specifically, speechless. Principessa rolled off his tongue the moment he saw her. Even though she was stunned and uttering a sad little sound of injury that he regrettably caused when she tumbled to the ground. It was instinctive. She was a princess. It was obvious.

But after only a few moments of time spent together... Maybe it was only obvious to everyone but her.

Or maybe Harry was just so overwhelmed it was just one of those things. He wasn’t kidding when he told her. Compulsive. It seemed wrong to call her anything but Principessa.

In the time that she moved in, to the present, Harry was the butt of most jokes when it came to his infatuation with her. “Is that our Principessa?” Niall teased Harry frequently. Especially when he looked longingly out the front window. The restaurant was set up so there was an opening from the kitchen peering over the main room. It wasn’t the biggest restaurant in the world, but people lined up on the sidewalk in any weather every Thursday, Friday, Saturday night without fail. The other nights were comfortably busy, and Harry was so grateful to work in a place as nice as this. Antonio was the best boss and Niall was one of his best friends.

Even more of a reason Niall teased Harry when the pretty girl got in and out of her car parked out front of the building with her phone pressed to her ear or something on her hip carrying it up the steps to her place. It took every ounce of Harry’s self-control not to run out there and take her stuff from her in the middle of cooking something every time he saw her so that he could help her.

Harry knew Niall was kidding but he didn’t like the way he said it. The teasing didn’t feel nice, and she deserved—no needed—everything that had to do with her be the nicest and sweetest thing in the world. “Ni, she’s so pretty and sweet,” he reminded him as they chopped the veggies for the day. Niall smirked at his friend who was staring at carrots and onions like they were the features of her face.

“She is pretty,” he nodded knowingly, toning down the sound of teasing in his voice. It was nice to hear Harry talk about someone like that. It had been a long while since he cared for someone the way he seemed to care for her already. Niall saw how captivated Harry was by her the second he saw her. He knew his friend was totally done for; but it was nice.

For a number of years (and after several bad bouts of heartache) Harry claimed he didn’t have time to fall in love. He worked six nights a week. On his day off, he often found himself at the restaurant anyway because his best friends were there. Work didn’t feel like work for Harry. So, dating would have been a distraction, a complication. Something Harry couldn’t fathom because of how busy his work kept him.

But Niall knew it was really that Harry thought it was too much to bear another heartbreak. Heartbreak that may not even happen, as Niall liked to point out. But Harry couldn’t see it that way.

Not until she was there, knocking Harry off his feet literally and figuratively.

Harry thought it was fate he always managed to catch sight of her whenever she was outside the restaurant; usually at her car grabbing something or putting it away. Other times, when she entered the restaurant, he was always able to see her kindly holding the door for an older couple or waving to a small child. Harry thought it was some unknown power that drew him to her and made him catch her eye every time she was within vision and distance.

She gave a wave to the host and sauntered through the main room to get to the bar just on the other side of the opening to the kitchen. A perfect view for him to admire her while he peeled veggies for Niall to chop throughout the night.

“Hi Principessa,” he smiled at her through the opening from the kitchen, just as he did every time that she situated herself in his view. Maybe Harry was reading into it. He knew he was a little lovesick with the idea of her. He tried to dial it back as much as possible so as not to scare her. But there were some things he simply couldn’t help.

On Wednesdays, she sat at the bar, ordered a drink, and ate some food. She always asked for a side of extra garlic bread and always asked if she could have a bigger portion (the angel she was, she promised she would of course pay more; she just wanted some for lunch the next day). Harry loved Wednesdays so he could gaze at her extensively from that opening to the kitchen. She usually read a book or chatted with whoever was bartending. Every so often, she would strike up a conversation with someone near her making them fall hopelessly in love with her as well. It was usually a sweet older woman who wanted to set her up with her son who was much too young for her.

Harry couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that wracked his body when someone else flirted with her. There was a bit of possessiveness to his infatuation, but he was good at separating himself from it. She wasn’t his and it was okay. If she wanted to date someone, it had nothing to do with him. He would continue to admire her from afar.

But then she would make eye contact with him. He was already looking at her and her eyelids would droop a little and she would look up at him shyly through the prettiest eyelashes he had ever seen, and he hadn’t once thought about eyelashes in his entire life. “Hi Harry,” she smiled so prettily, it made his stomach flip. He felt like a child, the way his cheeks warmed to hear his name on her lips. He busied himself with another task—stirring the tomato sauce to keep it from sticking to the bottom of the pot while it simmered. If he could, he would have stared through that opening and watched her the whole time.

Harry was considering quitting his kitchen job so he could be a bartender on Wednesdays just to be another ten feet closer to her. If it weren’t for her kind smile and her sweet voice, Harry would think he was being a bit of an overwhelming presence. But other than making sure all her furniture was properly anchored, he tried to maintain a normal distance from her and only asked her how she was doing each time he saw her. The last thing Harry wanted was to worry her about his presence in her life. Yes, he was effectively in love with her just at first glance. But he wasn’t so enveloped in the feeling that he couldn’t separate himself from it. He would much rather be friends with her than scare her with unwanted attention.

“Go talk to her, it’s slow,” Niall encouraged.

Harry didn’t need to be told twice and hurried to behind the bar and made small talk with her. It took a half hour, and her smile made his stomach churn in the best way. He hadn’t felt this way in so long and he was so glad she was there.

It was unbelievably easy to talk to her. They talked about the restaurant and how her job was going. It was nice she didn’t have to commute far and got to work from home most of the week. She inquired about the coffee shop up the road and if he had any good recommendations for shopping. Harry leaned against the bar and handed over the food from Niall from the window. She asked him if this is what he always wanted to do. He wasn’t sure but he liked it a lot and for now couldn’t imagine doing anything else. He attended culinary school and Antonio was one of the guest chefs in one of his classes. Harry took to him immediately and wanted to work for him and help however he could. He took over the old Italian bakery that was here before him, from his parents and turned it into Dolcezza and while he kept a lot of recipes it was nice to make it a place of his own.

Harry wanted to spend the rest of his life at the bar gazing at the pretty girl while she ate her eggplant parmesan and garlic bread. He wanted to ask her more about herself. Because Harry got the feeling that people didn’t really check on her. There was also an uncomfortable look in her eye when he asked about her job and her life. It was more evident by the moving herself in nearly alone.

“D’you need help with anything, kitten?” He asked.

The furrow between his eyebrows made her want to reach out and smooth the wrinkle there. Harry seemed distraught. But the idea that he was asking if she needed anything made her uncomfortable in a way that was hard to explain. Her parents relied on her a lot—the oldest of three. Her younger siblings relied on her a lot too. Her sister was always sending her essays to read. Her brother asked her for help on his math assignments at least once a week.

They lived more than an hour away from her and the only time she saw them was when she was the one going to visit them. While there, it made her anxious to see her sister leave their parents’ house, a mess from all of her belongings spread on every available surface. Visiting her brother made her anxious for a multitude of other reasons. She thought he was on the fast track to a drinking problem and was constantly reminding him of such to the point he would say things like “don’t worry, Mom.”

She loved her family. There was no question about it. But it was nice to have space between them. It was hard to move away during college and watch them struggle for a few months without her presence to essentially keep everyone in line. Her mother called her the project coordinator of the family. Stuff didn’t get done without her. It felt like she had to tell her mom and dad how to parent her younger siblings a lot of the time. It was exhausting.

So, space was good, regardless of how much she worried about them and their ability to take care of themselves.

As for her friends, Eleanor moving away was worse than any heartbreak she had ever experienced. It was fresh still and she felt really alone without her there to paint her toes or read trashy romance novels while they had spa nights where Louis would bring them pizza. Other than Eleanor, her friends walked all over her. Eleanor watched it firsthand and was happy to tell her it was happening.

She had to separate herself from the group as well—especially once they finished school because if she didn’t, she would probably be cooking dinner for some of them each week or doing their grocery shopping because they were too lazy.

She had done everything on her own for most of her life. She rarely even asked Eleanor for anything. Eleanor usually forced her help onto her which was a necessity in Eleanor’s eyes.

So no. She didn’t need Harry’s help with anything.

But she sort of wished she did, just so he would chat with her for longer.

“Hey Harry,” Niall called through the window. Harry took a quick glance around the restaurant seeing the dinner rush filling in quickly. Unfortunately, he had to get back to Niall’s side and leave her.

He enjoyed talking to her so much, enjoying her gentle laughter. He wanted to give her a kiss good night.

For as long as he could remember, Harry’s favorite color was always orange or blue. But now his favorite color was pink—the color of her cheeks whenever he flirted with her. “Have a good night, Principessa,” he smiled. A wink to replace a kiss he so desperately wanted caused the color to flood her cheeks and he was so grateful that he got to see that pretty, favorite color of his.

“Night, Harry,” she looked so utterly pretty it made him feel like he was melting.

Leonardo was Antonio’s four-year-old little boy. He was full of energy and life and made the restaurant a mess when he was around. His skin was olive-toned and with dark wavy hair. He looked like the prince of Italy and acted like it when he arrived.

It was all hands-on deck when he was around. One second without supervision he would be under a table in the main room or sneaking a meatball from the sauce in the kitchen on a plate ready to be served. At least, that’s how it usually was. Today, Leo was situated at the bar coloring in an activity book with the help of the sweet angel that Harry didn’t think he could possibly love more. But somehow here she was, a delight with kids and another piece of Harry was completely captured by her lovely persona.

“Hey Leo, who’s y’pretty date?” Harry asked ruffling his hair as he passed into the kitchen. Leo held up the book, a few of the markers he was using fell to the floor. He winked at the sweet girl as she hopped down from her seat to grab them. Her face turned that gorgeous pink he dreamed about at his sweet words and the little gesture he made toward her. She grinned back at him with a little eye roll at his kind compliment.

Leo giggled sweetly as he showed off his coloring book. “We’re coloring.”

“Oh? S’lovely. Can y’color something for me t’hang in the kitchen?” Harry asked. He nodded excitedly and went to work on the next page. “Y’on Leo duty?”

“M’babysitting,” Leo explained before she could get a word out.

“Excusa,” Harry chuckled. “You’re babysitting, Leo?” Harry repeated, while she put the markers back in front of Leo and got back into her seat.

“He is,” she smirked. “Mumma and Dadda came in to eat with Leo. Their sitter cancelled and they mentioned they haven’t been on a date since they found out about the baby almost four months ago,” she explained. “So, I asked if Leo would want to keep me company tonight.”

Harry’s heart warmed as it always did because of her kindness. Selflessness. It was overwhelming. “S’nice, Principessa.”

“Prin-pessa?” Leo asked, his little lisp messing up the nickname. He turned his attention back to the girl beside him with wide eyes. She shook her head at Harry.

“Oh yeah, Leo,” Harry nodded affirmatively ignoring her little brush off—noticing that her cheeks were once more warming at his nickname for her. “Don’t y’think she looks like a princess?”

He nodded in agreement. She rolled her eyes again, but the smile and pink of her cheeks remained on her face, which made Harry feel like he had won the lottery. “I’m hungry,” Leo told her.

“Yeah? Want some spaghetti?” She asked.

He nodded. “Can I help make it?”

She glanced behind her at the rush of people coming in and knew that a little one in the kitchen would not be ideal. “Hmm...I think we better let Harry take care of dinner. But after you eat, we can head upstairs and make something yummy for dessert. How’s that sound?”

He nodded. “So, we can keep coloring?”

“Absolutely.”

Harry didn’t want to cook. He didn’t want to move from that window and move his gaze away from the angel sitting at the bar. She was too good and Harry was too in love. It seemed impossible that he would get anything done for the rest of his life if she was going to be around.

But he wouldn’t want her anywhere else.

Leo was getting cranky toward the end of the night. He wanted to see his mom and dad and she was struggling to maintain a bit of control. He was in a t-shirt she had from a 5k she and Eleanor had walked for charity. He was missing his mom and dad, and she knew it wasn’t going to be easy to keep him calm until they came to pick him up. By then, he would be sound asleep.

Hopefully.

“Do you want to watch a movie, honey?” She asked as he got more teary and grumpier by the second.

He shook his head. She could see the frustration in his little body. She frowned at his response. “Hey, Leo?” She said softly. “I know you’re upset and you’re missing Mommy and Daddy. We gotta pass the time a little bit so they’ll be back faster. Can you think of something you’d like to do while we wait?”

“Can we color more?”

She had left the coloring supplies at the restaurant. Leo had his own little cubby out back in the staff room behind the kitchen. Harry had brought it back there for her after they left to make their cupcakes. It didn’t seem like something she needed when she moved in because she hadn’t necessarily planned on babysitting. But now she was already considering her Target run tomorrow to get activities the next time she offered to watch Leo.

She was quick on her feet though. “Yeah, let me just...see if Harry can bring it up.”

As she dialed on her phone to call the restaurant, she wondered who would answer. By now she had lived above the Italian oasis for nearly three months. They all knew her name and she was surprised they didn’t have her number saved. “Dolcezza Ristorante, how can I help you?”

“Hi...uh...can I talk to Harry?”

“Harry?” The voice asked curiously. She didn’t know who it was unfortunately. She was hoping it would be one of Antonio’s nephews but alas. She could tell the girl at the other end of the line didn’t like that she was requesting Harry’s attention.

She felt a wave of awkwardness wash over her. “Err...yeah.”

There was a bit of silence, some chatter as whoever answered walked toward the kitchen. She could hear the clanging of dishes and pans, the dishwasher humming as she got closer. There was a muffled exchange of words. “Me?” Her face warmed at the sound of the voice that she was certain she could pick out of a crowd. It made her feel ridiculous that she recognized Harry’s voice.

Even more ridiculous that her heart skipped a beat at the sound of it as well.

“Hello?” He sounded confused as he answered. But his voice sounded so warm. Like someone reading a bedtime story to her. Even though he only spoke one word.

“Hi Harry,” she smiled into the phone.

There was a loud clang from his end as something clearly toppled to the floor. There was an uproar of voices shouting and a few curse words. She had to pull the phone away from her ear at the noise and she glanced at Leo briefly. She was grateful he was feigning calmness as he waited utterly patiently—especially for a for a four-year-old, close to bed time, and missing his mom and dad. “Uh...sorry... Hi, Principessa,” he murmured. “Y’okay? Something wrong?” He asked nervously.

There was a pang of adoration for someone that cared about her well-being. No one ever really worried about her. Except for Eleanor. It wasn’t her fault but there was only so much Eleanor could worry about from a plane ride away. “No, no... we’re fine,” she promised. “Just...I hate to bother you, but if you have a minute, could you bring the coloring book up here? Leo’s missing Mommy and Daddy and wants to color some more to pass the time till they get here,” she explained.

“Oh, yeah. ‘Course,” the sound of the kitchen dissipated as he walked toward that back room to get Leo’s book. “I’ll be right up,” the phone call ended and shortly after she heard his footsteps coming up the steps and a gentle knock on the door.

She hurried to open it, Leo following behind her and peering from behind her legs. There Harry was, leaning against the door frame. Looking like a model even though he was holding a children’s coloring book. “Hi Principessa,” he smiled brightly.

“Hi Harry,” she grinned and knelt beside Leo. “Can you say thank you to Harry?” She asked.

He looked up at Harry. “Thanks, Harry,” his lower lip stuck out and he sniffled rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.

“No problem, lad... y’okay? Y’miss Mummy and Daddy?” He nodded, looking at the floor and turned into her embrace to hide the tears as he sniveled. She rubbed her hand along her back. Harry crouched in front of them as well. She frowned and Harry reached out to smooth his hair down. “I know y’miss them, but y’get t’hang out with this pretty Principessa and color. And when y’go t’sleep Mummy and Daddy will be back,” he reminded him.

He sniffled and rubbed his eye, turning back to Harry. “Can you color with us?” He asked.

“Aw, Leo, honey. Harry’s working right now,” she whispered rubbing his back and kissed the top of his head.

His lower lip wiggled with a threat of tears exploding from him again. “I can stay a minute,” he smiled gently. Leo turned again and reached out for Harry who grabbed him up and cautiously stepped inside the homey little place of the girl he liked so much. “S’different huh, lad? From how Mommy and Daddy decorated.”

He nodded. “Prin-pessa lives here now,” he told Harry with another little sniffle.

“She does, that must mean this is a castle,” he winked in her direction as he settled himself on the sofa and put the book in Leo’s lap. She handed him some colored pencils and let him color in the book on his lap. His little sniffles subsided, and he showed Harry the picture frequently. “Nice job, Leo,” he said encouragingly. She sat in front of Harry, helping Leo color. She tried not to touch Harry, but it was nearly futile with the closeness. She couldn’t get close to Leo without getting close to Harry. She sat on her coffee table facing the pair of boys. Her knees slotted on either side of one of his. She wondered if Harry felt the heat of her body waving off her just by their thighs touching.

Harry was lucky he had to focus on keeping Leo company and making sure he was okay. He can’t imagine a scenario in which they would be in this position, but if it weren’t for Leo, Harry would have focused solely on the way her jeans were pressed to either side of his leg. He watched her color like she was an artist from the Renaissance. Her smile was gentle while she spoke quietly to Leo praising his skills.

It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes, but she stopped coloring almost abruptly. She put all the items beside her on the coffee table. Harry looked at her curiously and she smirked, putting a finger to her lips. She stood, removing the warmth of her leg around Harry’s, making him feel like it was the dead of winter without a coat. He wanted her body back near his.

She slid her hands around Leo’s small frame and her hands brushed Harry’s fingers. He had to restrain the moan that was bubbling in his throat from how much he liked the feel of her skin against his. He thought the warmth from her would make his heart explode. She pulled Leo into her embrace and carried her to the bedroom. Harry followed her quietly and quickly. He stood in the doorway and watched her lay the little one on the bed. She left the door cracked so light could get in and she smiled kindly. “Thank you, Harry,” her voice dripped with gratitude.

Harry didn’t know restraint was an emotion, but he felt it all throughout his body. Every bit of self-control was used to not kiss her over and over until his lips hurt. “M’pleasure, Principessa.”

Harry’s favorite color appeared on her cheeks. “Do...you want something to drink or anything? Before you head back to work—oh my, are you okay?” She asked grabbing his hand and turned it over between his.

Harry had an angry burn on the back of his hand. When he heard her voice on the phone he had a visceral reaction—the adoration for her causing him to spill some hot soup on his hand as he carried it toward the counter ready to be taken to the main room. Harry didn’t even feel it. Working in a kitchen, it was likely you would get burned. Harry wasn’t sure he had any nerve endings in his fingertips anymore.

At least, not until she was holding his hand.

“Oh...yeah. M’fine. Spilled hot soup.”

“I’ll have to remember how hot it is when I order it,” she looked at it nervously. “Can...do you need a bandage?”

“Oh, we have gloves in the kitchen,” he shrugged. It wasn’t a big deal to him. The only thing he could think about was how nice her hand felt holding his.

She frowned which made him sad. “Can... Can I wrap it or something for you? It looks painful and the glove will probably rub it raw or something,” she was already tugging him toward the kitchen, so he had no choice but to agree. Not that he wanted to argue. A few extra minutes with the pretty girl was well worth it. Harry had spent a good chunk of time in this apartment but somehow it was completely new. She released his hand, making him fraught with emotion. He nearly wanted to order her to hold it again. In the kindest of ways of course.

It seemed like this was something she really needed to do. Like it was hard for her to ask Harry for something without doing something for him in return. She gathered the supplies she needed and carefully slathered some ointment on his burn, holding his hand again making him forget all coherent thought. She was so gentle and careful. The burn was no big deal but it was so nice the way she tended to it. It shouldn’t have been such a big deal.

But Harry was undeniably in love with her.

“Thank you, Principessa.”

She smiled looking at his hand in hers. “You’re welcome, Harry. Thank you for helping with Leo. Sorry I bothered you.”

“Not at all, kitten. Y’don’t bother me at all,” he murmured as she smoothed the bandage on his hand.

It was cold again when she released him.

“Well, thank you anyway.”

“’Course. Always,” he promised. She smiled and put the supplies away. She wished she could have asked Harry to stay, but she knew he had to get back. He started for the door and flexed his hand a bit with the bandage wrapped around it. There were a lot of kitchen injuries he had suffered over the years and somehow this was his favorite because she tended so sweetly to it.

“I’ll...see you tomorrow,” she said softly.

“Yeah?” He smirked. “S’not Wednesday.”

She looked at her feet. “I know...but...I like seeing you,” she admitted glancing back at him with those pretty eyelashes and the pink cheeks he loved so much.

Harry was certain this was what winning the lottery felt like. He leaned down toward her and pecked her cheek so quickly, he barely even felt it on his lips—even though there was electricity pulsing through him as he did it. “I like seeing you too,” he whispered in her ear and headed down the stairs before he did something crazy like proposed to her. “Good night, Principessa,” he called over his shoulder.

“Eleanor Jane!”

Harry would recognize her voice in the dead of sleep, in a coma, halfway across the world.

Her voice was muffled by the door. As well as the thudding of someone knocking on the door. It was a few hours until they opened and if it weren’t for Harry hearing her sweet voice, he might have missed it or ignored it.

Harry hurried through the main room, unlocked the door, and looked at the three people in front of him. “Oh, you’re definitely Harry,” Eleanor smirked as she pushed past him.

“Jesus,” she sighed and put a hand on her forehead. “Louis, she’s insane,” she said to the guy who sauntered in after her.

“That’s my girl,” he said proudly and nodded to Harry as he brushed by him.

“Hi, Harry,” she smiled softly.

His heart softened. Harry loved the way his name sounded on her lips and in her voice. “Hi, Principessa.”

“Eleanor is in town,” she explained. She twisted her fingers together awkwardly.

“I see,” he chuckled as he glanced behind him to see her friend checking out all the artwork on the walls.

“We have a very busy couple of days. We’re getting a chunk of Louis’ stuff packed up and such. But...she really wants pasta and it’s,” she sighed looking a little ill as she spoke. “It’s the only time we really have...and you can say no. I told her we would just order takeout later—”

Harry understood. She didn’t want to bother him of course. Despite how hard he had tried to explain that she could never bother him. “Course, kitten,” he stood against the door to let her in finally. “Niall and I would be happy to,” he smiled.

“You really don’t mind? Antonio won’t mind?”

“Not at all, Principessa,” he promised pressing a hand on her lower back as he guided her further inside to join her friend.

“I told you he wouldn’t care.”

She rolled her eyes at Eleanor as the three sat at the bar.

Harry helped her onto her stool in the most chivalrous and gentlemanly fashion, Eleanor was grinning ear to ear as he did. He squeezed the top of her arm and winked as he headed back into the kitchen. “D’you want eggplant?” He asked through the window, and she blushed, then nodded. It made her feel warm that Harry knew what she wanted. Even though she had ordered it once a week since she moved in. “Eleanor, Louis? What can I make?”

“Cacio e pepe sounds good to me,” Louis smirked looking over the menu.

“Oh, I’ll take anything you want to make Harry. I’m not picky.”

He nodded and started preparing the dishes. Niall glanced through the window at the sight of the pretty girl and her friends. “You’re a mess,” Niall laughed.

Harry shrugged but there was a smile plastered on his lips.

“So, Harry, I hear you’ve really taken my best friend’s interest.”

“Eleanor, shut up,” she hissed, covering her pretty face with both hands.

Harry smiled, his cheeks warming. “Yeah? S’good. Can’t get her off m’mind either,” he winked at her through the window. Eleanor giggled and Louis rolled his eyes at her forwardness.

But Harry saw the splash of her pretty irises peek through the space between her fingers as she registered what Harry said. “You can’t steal her from me,” Eleanor said knowingly. “She’s my best friend.”

“Would never take her from you, Eleanor,” he chuckled with a shake of his head.

While Eleanor and Harry chatted like they had known each other their whole lives as well, she tried not to think about how Harry said he couldn’t get her out of her mind.

Tried.

She very much failed and thought that maybe she wouldn’t mind falling harder for Harry.

Harry was organizing the bar while the three of them ate. She was used to the pasta—of course it was delicious, but it was easier for her to pace herself knowing if she wanted, she could have more at any hour of the day.

She nibbled on her garlic bread—the extra portion that Harry had placed in front of her with a wink.

Eleanor was picking at Louis’ and hers at the same time. “Aye! Eat your own,” he said protectively and pulled his plate toward him so Eleanor couldn’t reach. She frowned and turned her attention back to her best friend, stealing some of her pasta and snagged a piece of garlic bread. She passed a piece to Louis and finally tried her own meal. “There’s been no sign of your stalker, right?” Eleanor asked as she put the first bite in her mouth. “Oh, this is delicious,” she moaned. She didn’t get to remark on how good the pasta really was because her comment was overshadowed by Harry’s head snapping to attention at the words coming out of the best friend of his Principessa.

She tilted her head back to avoid Harry’s eye contact. She hated bringing up this topic. Especially in front of other people. Even if Harry was slowly becoming her favorite person now that Eleanor wasn’t around, Harry was going to get worried. That was the last thing she wanted. “I could strangle you,” she murmured to her friend.

“What?” Eleanor frowned.

“M’sorry t’eavesdrop,” Harry said apologetically holding two bottles of wine in each hand as he restocked the wine cooler. “Did...did y’say stalker?”

Her cheeks turned pink. Eleanor frowned and turned back to her best friend. “You didn’t tell them?”

She sighed heavily and shook her head. “It’s nothing,” she shrugged.

Harry’s eyebrows rose to the middle of his forehead. He begrudgingly turned his attention to Eleanor assuming that she would give him the details for such a worrisome topic. Eleanor sighed. “Maybe you can convince her. There’s this guy who follows her.”

“Not now,” she grumbled. “He doesn’t do anything. He just... follows me.”

Harry felt utterly uncomfortable with such a statement and how neutral she seemed to feel about it. His heart started to beat erratically at the thought of something happening to her. He wanted to handcuff her to the bar just so he could keep an eye on her. Harry put the bottles into the cooler while Eleanor filled in the full details. He listened with rapt attention. She ate her garlic bread and pasta as if this was a normal situation. Truly, nothing to worry about.

Louis added in a few details as well. “There haven’t really been any events that were... scary,” Louis added for her benefit. Eleanor glared at him viciously. “But it makes El and I pretty uncomfortable. Really worried,” he told Harry with a smirk to Eleanor as her glare softened at his words.

Harry, on the other hand, was nearly shutting down with the influx of information. His pretty Principessa. It wasn’t fair. It was scary. He couldn’t believe she wouldn’t lead with that. “Principessa, s’not okay.”

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “He hasn’t followed me since I’ve moved,” she put her forehead on the bar.

Harry frowned and made eye contact with Eleanor. “Hmm...”

Eleanor patted her back. “You’re fine. We all just care about you,” she rolled her eyes. “I know that’s a hard thing for you to consider,” she smirked with a shake of her head.

“Jeez, El. Why don’t you just stab her,” Louis chuckled.

“I like Louis more than you,” she murmured into the bar.

She flicked the back of her head and looked at Harry.

“Harry,” Eleanor smiled sweetly.

“Oh boy,” Louis chuckled sipping his drink.

“Don’t you dare,” she hissed looking up at Eleanor and tried to put a hand over her mouth to keep her from talking to Harry.

Harry thought it was funny, even if his heart was racing with worry. “Would you mind keeping an eye on her?” She fluttered her lashes sweetly as her best friend turned bright red with embarrassment. Harry smiled softly.

He didn’t want to upset the poor thing when she already seemed so distraught. Harry knew a bit about her but didn’t know everything, obviously. It was abundantly clear that she would rather die than inconvenience someone on her behalf.

“Of... of course,” Harry nodded at Eleanor. “But... m’sure she’s... sounds like she has it under control,” it tasted like sour milk to say those words. He wanted to say something along the lines of he would sleep outside her door and walk her to and from the grocery store. But Harry wasn’t her boyfriend—even if he was already, completely, and obviously in love with her.

Even if she wasn’t ready to notice just yet.

“Ugh, you have him fooled too,” Eleanor frowned.

She smirked patting Eleanor’s back. She turned to Harry for a moment and met his gentle gaze. It made her feel soft. When he pecked her cheek, or held her hands, each time he touched her lower back, or when he was coloring with her and Leo. Harry made her feel so completely warm with the smallest of touches and now he wasn’t even touching her. She was frustrated Eleanor brought it up. Even more frustrated Harry was worried about her. He had plenty of more important tasks to deal with than worry about her.

But she didn’t want anyone to worry about her. So, if asking Harry for help every now and again appeased Eleanor...

“Harry,” her voice was so soft and gentle. He was captured immediately by her voice and gaze. “Even though you’ve already done about a million ridiculous things for me,” and he very much had not. The little tasks he did to help her move in weren’t anything. Chatting with her, making food for her, and even coloring with Leo were all easy and nothing special. They weren’t even the bare minimum because they were so easy and simple. He wanted to do more for her. “If... if it’s not too much trouble,” it looked like she was struggling to say whatever words were in her head. It seemed ridiculous that she was going to ask Harry for help solely to make Eleanor feel better. Not even herself.

But he wasn’t going to make her say it when it clearly frustrated her to worry about herself.

Maybe he could help her understand that it wasn’t a big deal to worry about her, eventually.

“I’ll keep an eye on y’Principessa. S’pretty easy when I can’t stop staring at how pretty y’look anyway,” he winked and headed to the kitchen hoping to leave Eleanor to gossip about something other than the guy following her best friend.

He caught a glimpse of his favorite color painting her face while Eleanor was giggling and hitting her arm with excitement through the window.

But most importantly, he saw the faintest smile on her lips. Like she was happy that Harry cared for her even a little bit. Hopefully with every little baby step, Harry would convince her she wasn’t a bother.

In fact, he hoped to convince her that she really was a princess in his eyes.

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lolyouallsuck @buckybarnessimpp @stylesfever @harrysxcarolina @haarrrys @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles @tenaciousperfectionunknown

Dolcezza: @matildasatellite @crossyourpeter @st-ev-ie

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #dolcezza

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gretavanlace · 1 year

Text

Poppins (part 5)

Josh/Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, slight angst, etc

Sleep doesn’t plan on dropping in to visit you tonight, that much is clear. Still, it doesn’t stop you from staring up at the ceiling, longing for it.

If you could just quiet the storm inside your head, if only for a moment or two, you might be able to drift away.

All hope is lost completely when your phone begins to vibrate on the night stand beside you. It crosses your mind to ignore it, but no one calls at this hour for no good reason.

With an exasperated sigh, you roll to your side and grab it up.

“Perfect.” You mutter upon seeing Jake’s name displayed on the screen. Yet another facet stepping up to complicate this shit show of a night even further.

“This better be good.” 3 am phone calls don’t lend themselves to a proper greeting in your book.

“Well, hello to you, too, pretty girl.” He laughs, clearly bright eyed and full of piss and vinegar.

“I’m sleeping, Jacob.” You huff, flopping onto your back once again.

He calls your bluff. Of course he does. “No you’re not. You sound wide awake, and I need someone to keep me company.”

“No pretty young thing to follow you home from your gig tonight?” You ask, though you certainly don’t actually want to know.

He makes a sound in the negative, and then adds, “But if I get really hard up, I can just pop my head out the door and flag down one of the hookers that are loitering around this shit hole of a motel.”

“That bad?”

“I’ll put it this way,” he breathes a wisp of a laugh, “If I were to look under the bed and find a dead body, I wouldn’t be shocked. Not even a little bit.”

“Yikes.” You genuinely feel for him. Hotels and their germs freak you out as it is, you can’t fathom being expected to sleep in an establishment as fine as the one he’s describing.

“Make sure you check for bed bugs before you go to sleep.” It breaks your heart to think of him slumbering fitfully while tiny monsters feast away.

“You think I’m going anywhere near that bed?” He sounds offended, but you know better. “I’m sleeping in the fucking bathtub. I wish you were here, though.”

“So, you’d have me suffer through a night in hotel hell just so you’d have someone to keep you company? Narcissist.”

That halting laugh of his, the one you’re completely smitten with, makes an appearance, but his reply comes gently. “No. There’s just something about the thought of seeing something so beautiful surrounded by all this ugliness…I don’t know.”

That, you hadn’t expected.

He glosses over his honesty and begins telling you about the bar he’s playing. About how it used to be a speakeasy. How there are still scattered bullet holes in the walls from a raid. Al Capone once visited, he tells you animatedly, and broke a bartender's nose for speaking without respect…

On and on he prattles, and you let him, paying close attention to his every word. This isn’t your first time being ‘Jaked’ in the middle of the night.

And if you’re being honest, maybe your attentiveness has more to do with the fact that you miss him already. It’s good to hear his voice, that calming, soft rasp. His idiosyncratic tendencies - ‘you know’ as a place filler as he gathers his thoughts, interesting, suppose, it’s all so jake, and it makes you feel safe in the strangest way.

You ask questions in all the right places, not enough to interrupt, but just enough to encourage the stream of thoughts he has decided to share with you.

That is, until he catches on. “Are we whispering because it’s late, or because you’re at my brother’s?”

You pluck at the blanket thrown over you, chagrined. A child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “He was out of sorts with you gone, so I stayed. You know how he gets.”

“I get that way, too.” He points out softly. “Who babies me?”

You shrug, though he can’t see you “A girl in every port?”

“Would you stop with that?” He suddenly sounds sad, and it’s so unlike him you’re shocked into momentary silence.

It stretches on for a while, with you now staring at the wall as the tree outside lends the shadows of its leaves to dance and flutter in the night. And Jake, cooped up in some depressing, filthy room god knows where, breathing in stagnant air and mold spores.

He slices through it first, “Hey, poppins?”

“Hmm?” How easily can make your heart ache and pound without effort. They both can.

“Do you miss me?”

The hopefulness in his query makes you smile. He sounds almost…vulnerable?

“I do, Jake. I always miss you when you go away.”

A discreet hum of satisfaction is his only reply before the quiet returns. Then…

“Why are you at my brother’s, babe? Is this a ‘when the cats away the mice will play’ situation?”

Why is he always so calm and collected? Tipping his hand just enough to stoke the flames of your curiosity. And why is it so sexy?

“Are you the cat?” You ask softly, avoiding his actual question.

He sees your bet and raises the stakes “Are you two the mice?”

Still unwilling to hand over your secrets, you ask a question of your own. “What is this? You both really do get off on the competition of it all, don’t you? Is there a scorecard hidden away somewhere? Because I —“

“Hey,” he soothes, voice comforting like a warm, much loved quilt. “There’s no scorecard. We actually have a scoreboard. It lights up and everything. Cost a shit load.”

He successfully tugs a giggle out of you, plucking the thorn out of your side effortlessly. Seconds later, however, you’re right back where you started.

“Why, then? Sometimes I feel like I’m caught in sibling rivalry crossfire. Like I’m constantly ducking and dodging Kiszka bullets.”

“No such thing.” He’s trying his best to lighten things up. “We Kiszkas are noble and peaceful people.”

He desperately would like to be let off the hook… instead, you keep him dangling on the line. “I’m serious.”

At last, he gives in. “Alright, alright. The thing is, you can’t really blame us. Sometimes it’s unavoidable and that’s just science.”

“Science.” You repeat, unimpressed.

“Yes. Science. Identical twins, such as myself and my lesser half, share nearly indistinguishable brain wave patterns, and —“

“Jesus, do you two carry around some big book of twin factoids everywhere you go?”

Brushing your flippancy aside without comment, he continues on. “So, shared brain waves and 99.9% identical DNA means we view the world around us in much the same way. That’s why you hear those crazy stories about separated twins finding each other later only to discover they’ve been living parallel lives. Essentially, we’re the same person.”

“Is this where I come in?” You ask, trying hard to conceal the fascination hiding behind your nonchalance.

“Possibly.” In your mind's eye, you picture his fingers running over his lips in a gentle pinching motion. An endearing habit of his when he’s feeling contemplative. “But, sometimes I think it has very little to do with all of that. Sometimes I think it’s just you.”

“Me?’

“You’re the lighthouse, poppins…” his voice is soft and thoughtful. “And he and I are the ships. Question is, who will run ashore first?”

“Something happened between Josh and I tonight.” You confess. “And I honestly don’t know why I’m telling you. I just felt like you should know.”

“Doesn’t that make you think?” He questions, backing you into an invisible corner.

“Doesn’t what make me think?”

“The fact that you felt the need to tell me. It’s interesting, isn’t it?”

You’re not sure what to say to that, so you choose the easiest path and say nothing at all.

“Jealousy isn’t a character flaw I struggle with. Never has been.” You listen to the creaking groan of the likely cheap and worn chair he is repositioning himself in. “Territorial? I’ll own that, but almost never with Josh. So you have your fun, love. Get him out of your system. You and I both know which ship your light shines a little brighter for.”

He ends the call with little room for argument on your part. You consider calling him back to tell him he’s wrong (is he wrong?). Instead, you slip out of bed and pad down the hall towards Josh’s room, light and hushed on your feet.

Josh is dreaming of you. Lost in turquoise waters that lull him deeper and deeper, down down down. You’re everywhere. Your voice, echoing and purring with the delicate current. He is tangled in your silken hair. It glows in otherworldly shades of bioluminescent purple and he longs to touch it, but each lock dissolves into blinding glitter the moment he reaches for it. Closer to the floor of your sea he drifts, as your soft moans grow louder, accompanied by the alien mournful song of whales calling to one another, his unconscious world shifts…

Now you lie beneath him, twisted in wrinkled sheets, clinging to him as he rocks into you deeply. Your nails sting as they bite into and drag across his back and he hopes it burns forever. He likes it better here. Bathing in your ocean was bliss, but here he can touch your face. Here he can search your eyes for their secrets and taste your skin. He can hear the desire thrumming in your hummingbird heart. Here you are his.

He always thinks you’re beautiful, but like this, you are celestial. A supernova captured in his arms.

You call his name, but your eyes are cast over his shoulder. He knows without question who has come to dismantle his perfect world.

“Tell him to go.”

You shake your head languidly with a Mona Lisa smile, “I’d like him to stay.”

Squeezing around him just right, you run your fingertip down the bridge of his nose…

…and he startles awake with a curse.

His door isn’t closed, but merely pushed to…still, you lift a loose fist to knock lightly. A faint moan in the dark stops you.

It’s a tranquil sound, one you might expect to enjoy while caught up in slow and easy early morning sex. And while it isn’t overtly obscene, it steals the air from your lungs all the same.

He’s sleeping, your eyes have adjusted to the darkness enough to know that, but he breathes another sigh into the air, and then…your name.

Can a sound be poetic? Can inflection be art? Because that is the only way to describe the way your name sounds on his tongue.

He’s dreaming…and whatever world he has faded into holds some version of you inside of it as well. What is going on inside that brilliant, beautiful mind of yours, Joshua?

This is wrong. You should go back to bed and pretend this never happened…but the angel on your shoulder has taken the night off, leaving the shameless devil in charge, plotting nefariously.

A harsh hiss of “Fuck!” bites out of him, startling you. He sounds frustrated and furious. He is awake, and very unhappy about it.

Standing still as a statue, you wonder ridiculously if he can hear the wild beat of your heart.

Knock now, you think. Pretend you’ve just arrived at his door. For the second time, you raise your hand to knock, and for the second time, you stop in your tracks when you see it.

His hand slips beneath the sheets as a shutter of pleasure ripples out of his chest. It’s no more than a strangled gasp, but your body explodes into heated pins and needles.

The drag of his fist against the linens keeps time with the airy moans he is panting into the night. It’s fucking intoxicating and you so badly want to go to him.

Instead, you back slowly away from the crack into the door, retreating further back in the hall. You’ll slink back to bed and it’ll be like this never even happened —

A floorboard creaks. An inanimate object groaning to tattle tale and shine a spotlight on your presence.

He stops instantly as you clamp your eyes shut tightly for a split second…if I can’t see you, you can’t see me mentality.

And while you pray with your whole soul to disappear like smoke in the air, he rises, tucks himself back into his sweats, and confidently closes the space between the two of you.

Before you can process, his fingers lace around your wrist and pull you into the room. Your body is pressed against the door, his breath warm on your neck as he reaches behind you to twist the lock.

A single finger traces along your cheek before tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. “Were you watching me?”

“I…” You stammer, guilty as sin. “I was just getting ready to knock and…”

His hand slides between your legs to tease his fingers over soaked cotton. “Oh,” he tilts his head, smug and pleased with his discovery. “Someone was enjoying the show. My sweet little thing has ruined her pretty panties.”

He finds your clit and presses against it, remaining still, taunting you with the delicious pressure of his touch. “Do you like to watch?”

You nod, the shame of being caught slowly seeping from your veins.

“Yeah?” He slips into your panties from the side and teases two fingers inside you, curling upward until your thighs are shaking. “You wanna watch me cum?”

A whine of desire trembles out of you, telling him all he needs to know.

His fucks his fingers into you just a hint faster. Building you up nice and easy, creating a heavenly push and pull that you never want to end. “Some other time, sweetheart. I’m far too in love with this soft little cunt of yours right now. Pink as cotton candy and just as sweet.”

Your hands are fisted into the shoulders of his worn out t shirt, steadying yourself as your hips rock to meet him.

“Jake called.” The words leave you as barely a whisper.

“Did he?” There is a conversational edge to his cadence. As though you might be discussing the weather while you clench and drip into the palm of his hand. “Missing you already?”

“I don’t know, he— oh, fuck…right there.”

“Right there?” You catch a glimpse of the cocky smirk playing over his lips in the dark. “I'll touch you right there, sweet girl. I’ll take care of you. Just relax and let me.”

Your back arches away from the door to bring your body nearer to his. You want him pressed against you, skin to skin. You want to melt into him and live there forever, surrounded by his warm light.

“You look so fucking pretty in this light.” The moon is filtering in through the window, cool and blue. You think of winter, and he mirrors your thoughts. “Like a snow angel.”

Your hand delves beneath his waistband of his tattered sweats. A chill races up his spine when you wrap your soft hand around him. “That’s it, sweetheart. Take what you want…good girl.”

You coil and quiver around his fingers, giving yourself away.

“You like that?” He nips his perfect teeth into your bottom lip. “You want to be my good girl? A perfect princess to make my cock hard and my heart ache?’

Tightening your grip, you stroke him faster, earning a groan, long and low, deep within his chest as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge with just his hand.

“Josh, please,” the air feels charged, the way it does just before a vicious summer storm unleashes. “I’m so close. Don’t stop.”

“Not gonna stop,” he rocks into your hand a little faster to catch up with you. ‘Not until I have what’s mine. Let go for me. Show me how beautiful you look when you cum.”

With another practiced twist of his hand, he drags you under, free hand covering your mouth to quiet your cries, though he wishes he could let you scream until you were hoarse and spent.

He chases after you, burying his face in the crook of your neck to muffle his own cries as he spills over your hand, tiny rivers of warmth that tickle your skin until your eyes flutter closed to savor the feeling.

It’s peaceful for a stretch, but when the words come, you don’t swallow them down like maybe you should. You speak them into existence like maybe you shouldn’t.

“He says you’re in love with me.”

His lips ghost over your cheek, light as the softest feather. “I am.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @paleshadow-ofadragon @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordierama @calumspretty

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adoristsposts · 1 year

Text

growing up is | quinn hughes

author's note; i love a hughes boy and i love a ruel song. also my keyboard has a wonky r key right now. pls bare with me and any spelling mistakes because of it. summary; in which quinn has a hard time coming to terms with the road your relationship has taken. inspired by growing up is ___ by ruel. word count;warnings; angst, mentions of drinking & smoking, mentions of sex. characters; quinn hughes x reader

Heard you moved out of town on the weekend. Understand, but I'm sad that you're leaving. Are you up making friends with the ceiling? Yeah, I know the feeling

Quinn wondered if his brother could hear his frown down the phone. He held it to his ear, refraining from a grimace as Jack described how he had just helped you move out of you first apartment. The one Quinn had helped you pick out.

I wasn't trying to let you down, I was just working my shit out. I'm sorry I didn't know how much I led you on

He could remember where your friendship had stuttered, becoming complicated and messy and unbearable. You had wanted so much more than he could give you. He blamed himself. Hockey was his life, and he had chosen his passion for it over any hope of a life with you.

Growin' up is weird, sleep with friends, break a heart

The two of you had first slept together on a Saturday night. Jack had friends 'round to hang about the firepit and Quinn was facing a self-imposed confinement to his room because of it. You, however, were his biggest opponent in that. He could hear you laughing, howling with delight. After an hour of sitting thee, waiting for you to start sulking that he wasn't there, he finally left his room. Only to loiter in the kitchen for a few minutes, but it was enough. Before long you were holding a quiet conversation with him. It only took an hour or two for the older boy to escort you back to his bedroom.

Question everything you thought

The one night stand had left his head spinning. He was far too infatuated with you. You lingered on his sheets and clothes, and he couldn't step foot in his bedroom or even glance at the clothes you had helped him discard without thinking of you. It wasn't long before it happened again. He never realised that his interest in you could spiral this far.

Split a pill, smoke a dart. Growin' up is weird, fall in love for a year

He lit up with Luke months later, the off season giving them a rare opportunity to partake in the regular activities of older brother corruption. And as Luke's faced twisted as he tried to hold the smoke in, he said "So, when are you two going to admit you're in love?" "Shut up." Quinn laughed. He reached over and plucked the blunt from Luke's fingers. "We're basically just fuck buddies." He clarified, taking a long draw of it and then rudely blowing the smoke back into his brother's face. "For like, a year." Luke pointed out. Quinn just shook his head, and so the younger boy laughed "Fine! Call it what you want. We all see how you two look at each other."

And then I disappear, wish that you were here

The conversation had really thrown him off. Quinn was now hyperaware of how he treated you. He was blowing you off, ignoring your texts. He wasn't in love with you. Definitely not. Probably not. The distance was affecting him. He spent practices wondering if you were thinking of him and games wondering if he would catch you in the crowd. He was distracted and it was throwing him off. He didn't miss the looks from his teammates. He knew he either had to call it off officially or go crawling back to you.

Growin' up is strange, get too close, push away, thinking you would do the same. New regrets, new mistakes

For a while, Quinn chose the second option. It was just sex. Right? That's what he told himself at the club with you, his brothers, and some of their friends. You had brought some of your own, chatting away happily. Quinn only noticed your distraction because he was playing his game on how long it lasted. He needed to show himself you weren't all he wanted anymore. One day you would find someone and decide your fuck buddy status was discardable. He needed to know he could still play when that happened, still live. So he picked a girl and before long his tongue was down her throat. He felt giddy with alcohol and guilt, especially so when he turned to see your back as your friends escorted a crying you out of the club.

Growin' up is strange when the one who's to blame is lookin' at the mirror, wish that you were here.

He needed a haircut. It was shaggy and dishevelled and he didn't have you to carefully trim the edges when it annoyed him anymore. Of course the thought only enraged him more as he looked at himself in the mirror. His jaw locked as he saw the physical proof of how far he had fallen since fucking it all up. He covered the mirror with a towel and booked an appointment at a barber's shop.

Get emotional at two in the morning, it's a habit, know I shouldn't be callin'. Then you let me in, is that what you wanted? Is this what we wanted?

A tough game finally breaks him. He should have been asleep, exhausted from the physical and mental work he had put in for his team. Instead he's dialling your number. To be safe he had deleted your contact, but those 10 digits were engrained in his head. When you picked up your voice was raspy with sleep. "Quinn?" "Hey." He breathed out happily. "Trev's sleeping, what's up?" He paused. "Trev? As in Trevor?" He questioned. Jack's friend, his friend, player on the team he had played days ago. "Yeah uh- I thought Jack had told you. Sorry." "Oh no, he did. Don't worry. I just uh..." He bit back the tears. The lie rolled off his tongue easier than it should've. He racked his brain for an excuse. "Tough game?" You filled in for him. "I watched. I'm sorry, Q." He held back a curse. "Yeah uh. Thanks. We should catch up." "Sure." And then the two of you fell silent. There were quiet snores on your side of the phone and Quinn was hit with the harsh reality 'Trev's sleeping' meant he was sleeping next to you. "Think we can plan it in the morning?" You said. He was reminded of all the times you would say that smilingly to him about breakfast, or how he was going to sneak you out of his room without his family noticing. "Yeah. Yeah, sure."

Now you're back in town, no, I can't come around. Are we better without the what if's and doubts. Is this it? Are we both too far gone to forget, and try again?

"Quinn? Are you listening?" Jack asked. Quinn snapped out of his thoughts about the phone call you two had shared less than a week ago. "Yeah, sorry, go on." "Anyways," Jack began again, "the two of them are having a house warming next week. Since you're in town you should come." "I don't know, Jack." Quinn sighed. "She asked if I would ask you." Oh. You wanted him there.

Oh-oh, bet I'll just disappear. Oh, will I just disappear? Wish that you were here. Growing up is

But he was too old now, a year and a half between when your relationship had started with fiery passion and clashing teeth. "I have practice, I think." He lied. "But you can tell them I'm happy for them."

#nhl #nhl fic #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fic #adoristsposts #trevor zegras #jack hughes

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captain-mj · 1 year

Note

Hiii, just asking for more selkie coffeeshop au when you have time :3c

This chapter is called Salt Water and because I made you guys wait a bajillion years for it, I added two asides at the end for PriceGraves and Korangi since they've been hinted at but haven't really gotten much attention

Ghost sat on the top of his apartment building for a long, long time. He played with the fur on the coat to make patterns. Most were just meaningless lines but he did also make more complicated geometry on it. He didn’t want to call him yet. Correction, he wanted to call him as soon as he was safe, but he understood that with everything going on, he probably needed more time to fix this. Fix… everything.

Jason. Jason would be fine. Surely. Gut shots were painful and they sucked, but if he was lucky, it wouldn’t have hit anything too vital. The doctors were quick.

Wayne… Ghost hadn’t laid a hand on him. Neither had Soap. He was probably angry. Ghost wouldn’t kill him. Didn’t feel right to do it himself. Soap could. If he wanted. Ghost certainly wanted to. Wanted to break his bones under his teeth. But he wouldn’t.

All Ghost wanted right now though, was to know if Soap and Jason were okay. It had been a while. Maybe it had been long enough?

How would Ghost call him? Did he mean literally on the phone? With the coat somehow?

Ghost slipped the coat around his shoulders and breathed in. “Johnny…”

There was a brief bit of silence before his phone went off. He answered it and before he could respond, he heard Soap.

“Simon.”

“Are you alright?”

“Everyone is alive and kicking. I explained that Jason was only in my house to grab something for me. Wayne can’t really dispute that. He’d have to out me and what he was doing. Don’t think either of them are going to jail luckily.”

Ghost took a deep breath. “Meet me at the beach?”

“Yes.” Soap’s breathing was light. Ghost could hear it over the phone. “I’ll be there.”

Ghost made his way to the beach and settled in to the sand. He looked up and watched the stars.

It took time. But Soap did arrive. He sat next to him in the sand. Ghost touched the coat around his shoulders.

“I want you to tell me the truth.”

“Yes.” Soap looked at him and it was horrid. Looking into those eyes. There was something worse than the prior emptiness. Ghost looked away.

“Did I hurt you? Or take advantage of you?”

Soap blinked and smiled a little. “No. Absolutely not. I’m surprised that’s what you wanted to ask.”

Ghost shrugged and slid the coat off. “It would be easy right now to ask what you feel for me. But I couldn’t. I can live with not being certain of that. Couldn’t live with not being sure if I hurt you.”

Soap nodded and just stared at him.

“Is Jason going to be okay?”

“He’s just fine. Don’t worry.”

Soap looked down as Ghost stood up before moving right in front of him. Ghost slowly knelt down in front of him and put the coat around his shoulders. He watched Soap shudder and grab it tight, pulling it closer around himself.

Soap fixed it, putting his arms through the sleeves and wrapping it tighter around him.

Ghost waited patiently as he watched him, seeing him slowly relax again.

He looked up and Ghost felt the air leave his lungs. Soap’s eyes were so much brighter. So much… more. Big blue eyes that didn’t look so empty.

“Hi Simon.”

“Hi Johnny.”

Soap jumped into his arms and Ghost quickly put them around him so he wouldn’t fall.

“Been so long since… Since… I…” Soap grabbed Ghost’s face, tracing his features. His expression changed every few seconds before he fell apart in his arms. He kissed him so hard that Ghost’s teeth hurt a little. Ghost picked him up fully, feeling Soap’s legs go around his waist. “God you’re so… so…” He kissed him between each syllable, desperate for him.

Ghost didn’t know how to describe it. There was something different. Something more. His voice was livelier. Accent was definitely thicker. The feeling of his body in his hands was so different.

Ghost carried him further along the beach, finding a tiny alcove they could hide in. Soap kept touching him all over.

“Wait. Because I gave you your coat back, are we married?”

“Yes. Don’t worry about it right now. Please. I can’t worry about anything else.” Soap bit Ghost’s lip and pulled at it gently. “I just… I need…”

Connection. It was a need Ghost knew well.

So he wrapped his arms around Soap and held him close, listening to the water. Soap buried his hands in Ghost’s hair and closed his eyes, heart pounding so hard Ghost could feel it against his ear.

“Simon. Simon.” Soap held him close.

Ghost pulled him closer and squeezed him as hard as he though Soap could handle. “You’re so warm. Do you want to come home with me?”

Soap nodded, cupping Ghost’s face. He could’ve let Soap walk but there would be inches between them and he didn’t want that. Ghost carried him, ignoring any weird looks they got.

Once they were inside, he started to strip them both of every bit of clothing except the coat. Ghost wanted to crawl in Soap’s skin if he could. They were chest to chest, legs intertwined and wrapped up so tight in each other they wouldn’t notice if the world burned down.

“Can I see your wings again?”

Ghost pulled them out slowly and wrapped them tight around Soap’s small body. He felt his soft fingertips go around his scales, marking them all out.

Ghost’s eyes felt heavy. So very heavy. He fell asleep again.

Price had went on his date and was… transfixed. Graves looked stunning in the sharp clothes he was wearing, so different from the usual uniforms they stuffed themselves in.

Now, almost a week later, and they were finally seeing each other again and Price was… well. He was from a predator species. Couldn’t really be blamed, especially when Graves had such big doe eyes and was only 5’9. Price pounced on him and dragged him away to bring him to his room. Graves didn’t seem to mind, putting his arm around his neck to keep himself steady.

“John. You can’t do this.” Graves clearly didn’t care, checking his nails and tilting his head to expose his throat more.

Price took the opportunity to bite and nip at him before placing him in his bed, laying on top of him. Graves knocked the hat off his head to gently scratch at the tufts on his head, making them stand up and shake. “I can and will. No one is going to stop me.”

Graves rolled his eyes but he found a place to scratch that made Price purr too hard to think of a response.

“Giant cat is all you are.”

Price bit his shoulder hard.

König finally got the date with the beautiful Gumiho he had been crushing on, Horangi. They had agreed on friday night and now it was friday night and he was… stressed.

He checked his outfit again and again and fixed his hood. Horangi was not intimidating! That’s all he had to remind himself of!

Yes, he was beautiful and handsome and had a powerful aura that scared him a little. He was still just a person!

König sat at the little table at the restaurant and waited for Horangi to come. And waited… he was only five minutes late but he was a puddle of anxiety. Of course, Horangi wouldn’t be interested in him. Why would he? He was just… König.

A human. A cursed human sure. But just a human. He was not powerful Not magic. Just König.

“I am so sorry I’m late!” Horangi appeared, looking just as gorgeous as always. His mask had been switched to a simple medical one instead. “I missed the road to this place and went in circles trying to go back. Not used to having to drive these streets.”

“Oh, not a problem! Are you okay? I hope it wasn’t too hard to find.” König smiled wide, trying to make sure it reached his eyes so Horangi could see it.

Horangi shook his head. “It was worth it to see you.” He sat across from him and König blushed.

“I wish I had your confidence.”

“I don’t make you nervous do I?” Horangi laughed. It took him just a moment to realize König’s awkward little laugh was a sign that he did in fact make him nervous. “Oh, yeobo, no need to be nervous. I think you’re sweet.”

König blushed more and nodded. He grabbed the menu and hid his face in it.

“Are you going to wear the mask all night?”

“I am… not very pretty under the mask.”

Horangi stared at him for a few minutes before nodding.

After their date, as König walked Horangi to his door, he never stood a chance. Horangi lifted the hood and ducked underneath it.

“Knew you were a liar. You’re very pretty under there.”

König very much enjoyed the kiss he got out of this.

Taglist: @the-snarky-drag @elevenclouds @lukewarm-chickensoup @nervouspsychologynerd @korym @cthulhusstepmom @princess-heathen @revenge-of-the-bucket-demon @roachboy @shadowsnowberry @crazies-unanimous @shiftylookingcrow @joltom @xenomorphee3 @thedeepvoidinmyheart

#johnny soap mactavish #john price #captain john price #ghostsoap #soapghost #simon ghost riley #soap cod #cod mw2 #ghost cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare ii #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #rodolfo cod #Selkie coffeeshop au #pricegraves #korangi

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rivetgoth · 4 months

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hey char! out of curiosity, how did you and angel get together? and whats one of your favorite things about her? :)

We met right here on Tumblr through this interaction :D

She followed me and I hadn’t followed back at the time (I really rarely check new followers) but after she sent this ask and I answered it I followed her back. After that we started interacting with each other in the comments of our posts and stuff, then we got each other on different social media, and after a couple of months she reached out on Instagram to tell me that she actually lived close by and inviting me to come hang out with her. We hit it off immediately and spent like hours and hours and hours talking, we kept driving from place to place around the city finding more things to do, we went to a record store, a little alternative store, we got food, we got coffee, and from there we started talking to either through text or on the phone literally every day. We’d spend HOURS on the phone together back then, like sometimes 8-9+ hours, just sitting there talking.

Like I love this screenshot, of us awake at 5:40 AM on the phone for 8 hours talking about Paul Barker 😭

We also would meet up pretty frequently in person too of course. Like one time that she stayed over the night before Record Store Day and instead of sleeping we stayed up the literal entire night into the next day talking about Nivek Ogre and Al Jourgensen. And then we moved in together before we were a couple about six months later. We were both looking to move anyway so the timing just worked out and we could kinda “test run” things since I was in a dorm room at the time that was much larger than it needed to be because my school didn’t know how to provide gender inclusive housing for transitioning individuals LMAO. We cohabitated really well and living together only made us grow closer. FWIW I was attracted to her right away, I remember the first moment I fully processed what she looked like was when she first messaged me asking if I wanted to hang out and I looked through her selfies so I’d be able to recognize her when we met and could not believe she really looked like that. I was like lol no way is this person this hot and asking to hangout 😳

Anyway. A little while after moving in together I think there was a lot of tension forming between us because she was (spoilers) attracted to me as well. So we started hooking up before we actually started calling ourselves a couple. The funny thing is neither of us really remember the exact moment we started formally considering ourselves a couple. We never had a big “what are we” convo where we put a solid label to things. We had a few conversations about how we hardly knew how to describe our dynamic because girlfriend / boyfriend felt almost juvenile for the level we were at, already living together and sharing finances and then also hooking up, but we started actually verbalizing stuff we were doing as dates, we’d been saying I love you etc for ages already, we started sharing a bed every night, and at some point us being in a relationship was just our reality. 🤷‍♂️

I love her so much. I feel like the luckiest man in the whole world getting to be with her and spend my life with her. Genuinely cannot believe she is so cool, smart and articulate, stylish, thoughtful, funny, with such good taste in music and everything else, and that she is my baby. It’s still so surreal. As for a FAVORITE thing, it’s so hard to pick just one obviously lol, but I think one of the things I appreciate about her more than anything and that I never ever want to take for granted is the way she’s always striving to learn and grow and form a fully consistent and logical and articulate worldview and ethical / philosophical system, like she’s always thinking about new things, reading new works, investigating the world around her, engaging with complicated subject matter, sharing her insights with me, trying to genuinely form a cohesive system for how to make the world a better place, and that’s inspired and driven me so much to do the same. She’s genuinely one of the smartest people you will ever talk to. I never get bored of our conversations and I learn so much from her all the time.

#thank you for asking btw 🥺🖤

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zalrb · 9 months

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How do you think Jax and Tara got together in high school? Based on her relationship with the club I would have to imagine there was a “small town so they knew each other but never spoke vibe” and then there was a turning point but i’m curious what you think that might have been. And then secondary to that what do you think they were like before they got together? We can infer that Tara was studious and Jax was all about the club but nothing else really.

Hmm. OK. So, I can see Jax helping out at Teller Morrow after school or on the weekends and one day, Tara's dad -- who's been described as a crazy drunk -- was driving Tara somewhere, I don't know, the grocery store or something and gets into a minor crash and his car is towed there. When they get there, it's kind of slow so Jax is reading a book, I don't know let's say Ulysses, and Tara notes that Jax is in her English class and it's not a book that was assigned so he's just reading it for fun.

Jax sees her handling her father and talking about the car to one of the mechanics and when it's time to leave, he walks up to her.

"I can drive you wherever you need to go."

Tara's resistant. "No, it's fine, I can just call a cab if I can use your phone."

Jax chuckles. "That [insert technical car thing] is going to cost [insert amount] so you might as well take advantage of the full Teller-Morrow service, darlin'."

And he flashes his signature Jax smile and Tara feels herself breaking and they're staring at each other until finally, "OK. Thank you."

She starts manoeuvring her dad but Jax is like "No, I got it" and hauls her dad into the truck.

The ride is quiet for a bit and then Tara asks, "How're you enjoying James Joyce?"

Jax says something thoughtful and intelligent and Tara is visibly impressed.

He grins. "Thought I was all beauty and no brains, huh?"

"Beauty, right." She scoffs, rolling her eyes, but with a hint of amusement. "No, you're just not in class much and you never really say anything when you are. Too busy getting notes from Carla Greggs."

She looks out the window as she speaks but Jax can hear a hint of jealousy which puts a small smile on his face, then Tara says,

"You can never really tell what's going on with someone, I guess."

Jax glances at her father passed out next to him and agrees. The ride is still mostly quiet but the quiet has shifted, deepened -- there's a sense of familiarity and understanding now.

They reach her house.

"Thanks for the ride. You didn't have to do this, really."

Jax ignores this. "I'll get him inside."

He gets out of the truck and takes a hold of her father, propping him up as they make it over to the house. Inside, Tara directs him through the clutter.

"You can just put him in that chair."

Jax sets him in a recliner and then lightly starts smacking his face. "Hey. Hey. Wake up." Her father's eyes open, still a bit bleary, but Jax doesn't move or speak until he's sure he's got his full attention. "Don't drive her like this ever again." He holds the gaze and then gets up, glancing back at Tara before leaving. "See you at school."

Tara watches him leave, speechless and deeply touched.

So to answer the second part of the question, I think Jax was what we see in season 1 -- I think he was a probably a very big flirt and loved the ladies, also pretty introspective, I think he probably liked school but not nearly as much as the club obviously, and spent a lot of time hanging out with Opie, I think he could be a little mischievous, maybe pull a prank here and there and I think he was always a Presence.

With Tara, I don't get the impression she had many friends because she was focused on getting out of Charming but I don't think she was uptight or high strung, just very dedicated and focused and kind of had tunnel vision toward that goal and Jax would prove to be a complication to that.

#sons of anarchy #jax x tara #tara x jax #jax teller #tara knowles #SOA

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brigdh · 7 months

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Brigdh, these are *wildly* evocative titles! I need you to know that I waffled so so much on this choice, but the one I think I need to know about the *most* is war criminals doing compensated dating.

The WIP meme!

@napneeders and @likethehotsauce also asked for this one, thank you all!

And thank you for liking the titles, but I don't think I can take any credit for them; they're just the prompts I used for inspiration. Case in point: this one! This is from when everyone was describing their favorite characters as war criminals (maybe we're still doing that? I feel like there was a peak in the term over the summer), and then someone combined that with angsty high school AUs, and voila, a bizarre combination that I somehow found incredible compelling. (Also, if you're unfamiliar with the term compensated dating, it's basically the same as a sugar baby/daddy relationship, but often with the connotation that the baby is still in high school.)

This is one where I can't really post it as finished fic because that set-up is too complicated to explain in an author's note, so you've got the whole thing below. Modern AU, Ed-focused.

Ed’s dad wasn’t around anymore. That was fine – good, actually, it was a good thing – but it turned out that the old man had paid more in rent than he’d wasted on booze. Ed should have known. His dad was a shit father and a shit husband, but he was white, and still had his high school footballer muscles, and had a way of talking to other men that made them laugh with him instead of at him. He’d never had any trouble holding down a job, no matter how often he went in late and hungover.

Ed’s mom never had a bruise on her face, these days. She never walked funny or flinched too easily. But she still wasn’t happy. She started getting home late; the few times Ed glimpsed her in daylight, there were bags under her eyes, and her mouth was pinched and thin. Ed caught her hunched over the kitchen table, writing with one of the Bic pens he brought home from school. She didn’t hear him come in, and he got close enough to read the first few lines over her shoulder before she noticed him. It was an application for the night shift at the little grocery store down the road.

“When would you sleep?” he asked.

His mom made a little sound, half snort of amusement and half exasperated sigh. “A lot of people have a second job, Ed. We should be grateful that I can work.” She smiled at him, eyes crinkled and warm. She really believed it, was the thing. All the things she said about how the world worked, and it made Ed’s instinct to shout that it wasn’t fair, wasn’t right, feel small and childish. “Besides, it’ll be temporary. Just until your father gets back.”

Ed had fucked up. He’d already known that, of course, but now there was a whole new side to how he’d fucked up.

Obviously the solution was for him to get a job, but nowhere that hired teenagers paid over minimum wage, and when Ed counted up the hours he could skip school before the social worker called the house, it didn’t add up to enough. Jack had offered to teach Ed how to pick pockets in exchange for Ed blowing him, but he suspected lifting a few wallets here and there might be fun drinking money, but it wasn’t the kind of thing that paid the rent. Ed would have to get into harder crimes to make it work, stuff with real risk if he wanted the real rewards.

Or. There was a girl who came to school every day now with designer clothes, jewelry with real stones, the newest model phone that she updated practically every month. She lived not far from Ed, and he knew none of it came from her parents. She didn’t have a lot of friends, though she’d been nice enough when they were kids. Now people whispered whore and skank when she walked by; her eyes never flickered and her fingers tap-tap-tapped on the strap of her Birkin bag.

That was Ed’s other choice. Less dangerous than crime, probably; certainly less chance of his mom finding out, since technically compensated dating wasn’t illegal. And anyway, Ed wasn’t really a virgin, so why not?

People looked at him, sometimes; he knew that. He liked it, usually. He’d been figuring out how to dress to make them look longer. When he walked home along the side of the road, sometimes a car honked at him. Not to tell him to get out of the way, but because of what they saw.

The girl with the fancy clothes, people called her needy too. Said she had no self-respect, that anyone could have her. A sick curl of recognition had squirmed in Ed’s belly. He was like that – he needed people to want him. It was like he was hungry and other people’s attention was the only thing that filled him up. It scared him: how much he needed it, the stupid things he’d done to get it. So he tried not to think about it, to stomp the craving down into the dark places of his mind where he put the things that bothered him. He could never get rid of it for long. though. He hated how weak it made him feel, how desperate.

The idea of people paying to look at him, to touch him – that didn’t sound so bad. If someone wanted to give Ed things, just because they desired him, ached for him, even loved him, maybe that would soothe the hunger in him. He could make them be the ones who needed.

In the end, it wasn’t really much of a choice at all.

#meme #our flag means death

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moefling · 7 months

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And finally Any Way The Wind Blows reread...

I really dislike Matali. Like of the the Adults who should have seen The Mages abuse, she is on the top and she is throwing it back in Penny's face!?? (f*ck Matali Bunce)

*sobbing* but also I love angst so also 😈

Dev is a Pitch?!? Idk why but I thought he was a Grimm (tho I did read the fanfic rebel rebel just b4 starting my reread so maybe that's my confusion)

How long is Simon's tail? I'm pretty sure that based on how it's described to twist around things it's gotta be like the same length Simon is tall (5 foot whatever)...

"He already gave me a sword, but I'm not magickal enough to call it." (page 6) this is so sad, I remember seeing a tweet from Rainbow saying the Sword of Mages was still in him he just couldn't call it and just that makes me want to cry for Simon

i love that Fiona continues to use the numpty joke with Baz because that is such a real family thing to do (page 14)

Premal and Simon should have a talk... they both have very complicated feelings about the Mage (i mean Simon wins but)

Poor Penny. she used to solve all of Simons problems and now she can't so she feels useless

"I'm ready to let go - to be me again. The me I thought I was before the Mage ever showed up." (page 37)

"I hate the sight of him. All I see is what I've lost- who I was. His match." (page 62) this f*cked me up because its a call back to CO when Baz says he loves that Simon is screwed up because "they match" and that quotes is VERY popular...

"I know I'll never love anyone like I love Baz. I know he's the love of my life. Of all my lives" "This was my life to find love. The truest love. The biggest. Buti it isn't my life to have it." "I'm too... broken. I don't know how to be close to people." (page 65)

we need for Fiona moments. the fact that she is marrying a vampire but can't ask Baz if he needs to feed? (page 82)

lol Simon showing up unannounced again and commenting on Baz's clothes (page 87)

Simon cuts so deep but i love it because it's real and he is telling everything so Baz knows

"I didn't get to keep anything... What did I get to keep, Baz?" (page 91) i think this hurts even more because he still thinks he's removing his wings and tail. to literally at this moment he doesn't think he got to keep anything: his magic, his mentor, his friends, his purpose in life, the safety that came with knowing what comes next

when Simon tells Baz he loves him to me the tone from Baz questioning it was even sadder because he wasn't just questioning Simon saying it but (to me) it seemed like a question that anyone would tell Baz that

headcanon that not only was Simon deprived of a magical childhood he also didn't have a normal one so he doesn't know things like Disney movies (or really used a cell phone)

i love that Baz switches between Simon and Snow regularly even in his own thoughts

gosh this book has the snowbaz bants that i've been looking for. referencing when they were enemies but now in a funny/ cute way

"'Christ, Baz, I never thought I was straight. I never thought about it at all.'" (page 127)

""I met him the usual way.' 'You chased him off the road?'" (page 167)

i love that there isn't really any comparisons between the Salisbury's and Simon until the end. it's not shoving it in your face if you can't remember the first book (no bronze hair like Simon or Ruth eats like Simon - there is a moment where it is mentioned that Jamie sucked at reading and talking and Simon thinks same but it is Simon thinking it not a comparison someone else is thinking)

is the light touch over simulation or has Simon just never been touched gently before so he doesn't understand it...

""I can touch you less gently, but I won't love you less kindly.'" (page 222)

when Ruth gives the glasses to Simon i remember on my first read i though that was how Simon was going to get his magic back...

i'm 80% sure Lady Ruth was ready to adopt Simon before she know he was Lucy's son and i'm 85% sure she would be very fine with them using the glasses for.... other purposes

the Demon turning to Penny after and basically winking as saying call me...

"'..it was children who brought down the Mage!'" (page 399) i think we need to talk about this more. the fact that Fiona is ok with it but all the Kids have BIG trauma about it all (and f*ck Matali again for victims blaming the Kids)

Simon using a pet name for Baz 😍😍

"'And you don't have to wear a jacket in the middle of June. Do you know how jealous I am?'" (page 407)

(something half baked about chosen ones being warm to the touch)

Baz wearing this boyfriends ex girlfriends sweatshirt

a note that Simon couldn't feel magic at all after Smith zapped him

so Smith's spell.... does it imply that you can waste magic? if you only have so much? or...

so what is Simon.... is he sorta a dragon?

Notes for Snow for Christmas

i love that this exists so we can see happy snowbaz without them doing chosen one shit

i love and hate that Baz tells Simon he is coming back after a fight (page 222)

i've decided that they should tell Lady Ruth about Baz's vamp thing because she would probably blink and then offer to keep blood in the fridge for when he visits. and she wouldn't tiptoe around it either

i like that Simon takes some responsibility to not drink because he kinda has a problem with it

Question... did Baz know he was a vampire before his teeth came in..? cuz knowing his family idk if they would have told him...

do Baz's siblings know he is a vampire? Simon asks but it isn't really answered...

#snowbaz #baz grimm pitch #simon snow #simon snow trilogy #any way the wind blows

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milkymoon2483 · 1 year

Text

The Blue Elephant

Push & Pull - Episode 1 Frank Castle X Plus Size Jewish OFC

Series Masterlist | Next Episode

Summary: DBF but dad’s dead. Your’e going back to your small town for your father’s funeral and Shiva. You know you’re about to face family drama but what worries you the most is that you’re going to see HIM.

Disclaimers:

This episode mentions a 14 year old girl having an UNRECIPROCATED crush on a much older man. HE SEES HER AS A CHILD at this point.

I’m Jewish (and plus size) but I do not live in the US, so there might be some differences in the way certain things are done and some inaccuracies. My apologies.

Yes this is self indulgent because I’m feral for this man.

I’m secular and will not be discussing Judaism in length. Will explain some basics though that are mentioned in the story.

Rating: E.18+. MINORS DNI.

Warnings: Teenage crush on a much older man, Mentions of alcoholism, divorce, trauma, plus size reader, insecurities, age gap, violence, sex, food, and probably a bunch of other stuff. This is a little dark. WC: ~3300

Thank you my lovelies. @romanarose @hbc8 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @boysddontcry @imaswellkid

The blue elephant.

Your phone rang in an ungodly hour, waking you up from a dream you had forgotten as soon as you opened your eyes. 8:15 AM. Who dares calling you this early on semester break?!

"Hello, am I speaking to Hannah Friedman?"

"Hi, yes, who is this?" You answered, barely recognizing your own voice that was hoarse with sleep.

"Miss Friedman, my name's Michael Katz, I was your father's attorney. I'm very sorry for your loss. I'm calling regarding his will."

Confusion flooded you, and for a moment you were sure the man calling had the wrong number.

Suddenly your heart dropped, the true meaning of his words not fully sinking into your skull just yet.

"Miss Friedman….?" His voice tried to break the long pause.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

"I'm calling regarding your father's will, since he passed away…"

"Shit. Sorry, I just…I didn't know. Shit. When did it happen?"

Your father was dead.

Michael Katz, bless his heart, apologized profusely for the terrible way you had to find out. He proceeded to explain everything in great detail, making sure to schedule a meeting with you as soon as you got into town for his funeral. He died in the early hours of the previous evening. Cirrhosis complications after years of excessive drinking, that’s what finally did him in, a part of you was surprised he lasted that long. 54 years old at the time of his death, Saul Friedman was a sick man, and not much of a father to begin with. A recovering alcoholic at the best of times, he rarely called or took much interest in your life, despite living 45 minutes away.

When you turned twelve things changed for the better, after bumping into you on a trip to a local supermarket with your mom and her new boyfriend, he suddenly felt an urgent need to get sober, and get to know you better. Your mother agreed, she took less convincing than both of you had anticipated. You ended up visiting more, and staying for a few weeks each summer, the community pool around the corner being your main incentive. Your relationship was never able to fully recover, but you both tried your best. You’d often say you loved him but sometimes didn’t really like him.

Your mother was his second wife, and after three years of marriage and one kid, they divorced, very much non-amicably, leaving a trail of wreckage behind them. You were thankful that you were just a toddler, too young to truly understand how deeply they've wounded each other clawing their way out of what your mother described to be the ‘worst three years of my goddamn life’. You'd often wonder, had she not been jewish, would she be saved from the displeasure of ever marrying him in the first place. Your grandparents must have insisted on him having jewish children, and according to Halacha*, their mom had to be one.

You remembered the last time you visited him, the visit was cut short when you caught him drinking again. “ You don't get to preach me” he lashed out at you, “You’re a bitch just like your mother”.

You left abruptly after that, not willing to take more of his crap. At that point you were visiting for him, because you felt obligated to do that. That sense of obligation was gone.

He called to apologize a few weeks later, but the dry conversation left much to be desired. Since then you’ve called and texted occasionally, but you never came to visit again, coming up with various excuses to avoid it.

Now he was dead.

"At least he knew when to die.." you later told your best friend, Grace. He had the sensibility to pass on right at the beginning of the winter break from college, giving you a good few weeks to deal with it before coming back to school to finish your final year. You could share your appreciation for your fathers morbid timing with Grace, but there was one thing you couldn't. A thought so shameful you smacked it back to where it came from as soon as it surfaced. You refused to acknowledge it, refused to name it, there would be no talking and no thinking of him. Not right now.

It was about as effective as telling yourself not to think about a blue elephant. You kept playing the game of 'whack a mole' with your brain, and kept losing. Your father was dead, and it took you mere seconds to realize that you’re going to see him.

Summer 2013

You looked at yourself in the water- damaged mirror, it was crooked and filled with specks of rust, large stains of disilvering ate away at your reflection. The one piece purple bathing suit was wet, clinging to your form, accentuating the awkward lumpiness of your chest and belly under the harsh fluorescent lighting. Your mother picked it out with you, from the sale rack in TJmaxx’s women’s department. That miserable shopping trip almost made you cry. Most of them did. Your adolescent body didn't look right, didn't feel right. It was all too much, too round, too full. You’d follow your much smaller mother around the shops, gradually losing hope with every one you passed, settling eventually on another trip to Starbucks. An iced vanilla latte was sure to cheer you up. You took solace in your sunglasses, rimmed in a bright red thick frame. The ones you nagged your dad into buying you, they made you feel cool. As cool as you could, that is. A piece of 'coolness' that belonged to you. You placed them on your nose with a slight sense of pride, heading out of the bathrooms.

Your eyes searched for him immediately, finding him lounging on one of the sun-beds. Alone. Walking as inconspicuously as you could, you sat on the bed next to him, pretending not to notice him. You dove head first into your bag, looking for your phone. don’t look at him, don't look at him. Your thoughts raced, desperately hoping that he would be the one to look at you.

You've known Frank for a couple of years, as your dad's friend and neighbor. He would often join you for Shabbat dinner, bringing a bottle of a non- alcoholic beverage or some fruit. He was younger than your dad but you weren't sure by how much.

You’ve always found him hot, it was impossible not to, with his sharp jaw and boyish smile. He was tall and broad and handsome. You nursed your little secret crush on him, getting excited and giddy every time he came to visit, not daring to mention to anyone that you even found this old man so attractive.

This, however, was the first time you’ve seen him shirtless, and your fourteen year-old self could not handle the sight. You gawked at the grown man uncontrollably, your gaze hidden only by your ‘cool’ sunglasses. The biceps, the pecs, the broadness of his shoulders and the way his torso tapered into his waist. The dip of his spine, the muscles of his back, the way the droplets of water clung to his skin and made it glisten…it all made your brain short- circuit, melt under the fog of hormones.

“Hey kiddo, I like the sunglasses” He suddenly said, in a tone more cheerful than you’d expected.

“Thanks” you muttered. It took your poor brain a few attempts to signal your mouth to smile. You hated it when he called you ‘kiddo’. You wished it would be ‘sweetheart’ or ‘darling' or ‘doll’.

“Can I try them on?” he smirked.

You handed them to him without a word, scrunching your face at the sun. Youv'e learned that it is often better to say nothing rather than risk embarrassing yourself.

Frank put them on, they looked ridiculous of course, the bright red cat-eye was in sharp juxtaposition to his purely masculine features. He chuckled and pulled on the temple tips behind his ear- bouncing them on his large nose, causing you to giggle.

"There she is! Don't be so serious all the time, kiddo. Have some fun" he smiled and handed them back to you, the tip of his finger brushing against yours. Never washing my hands again. You decided, as he got up and headed towards the pool. Your eyes followed him as usual, admiring the broadness of him.

The water was buzzing with activity, and all you could think about is how much you'd love it to be empty. It was far too crowded to swim, but it did allow you to keep staring uninterrupted.

The friendly game of 'throw the ball as hard as you can and cause the biggest splash' was on. Your dad had your cousin Jacob on his shoulders, the scrawny nine year old was doing quite a bit of damage, landing a throw so accurate it splashed violently all across Frank's face.

Frank shook the water off, spotting you in the corner of the pool, and swam right towards you. "Come on Hannah banana, I need your help, let's get em' " he smiled widely, and before you had a chance to respond he dove underneath you.

The gravity beneath you shifted as he began lifting you up from the water. You yelped loudly and grabbed tightly at the head that popped up between your legs, trying to steady yourself.

You haven't done this since you were seven, when you were light enough to be held on anyone's shoulders, but Frank lifted you up effortlessly, like you weighed nothing, like it was no trouble at all.

Your thighs squeezed against his neck and shoulders. The ball somehow landed in your hands but all you could think about were franks palms, gripping your legs tightly, keeping you firmly on him. A heady mixture of emotions stirred in your belly. The fear of falling into the pool, mixed with the exhilaration of Frank's hands on your thighs. You could see his large fingers pressing into your flesh, and it was making your head spin.

You threw the ball as hard as you could, landing a pretty decent splash on your aunt's face. She laughingly demanded her son 'avenge her'. A few more splashes and Jacob came face to face with you, attempting to push you off Frank's shoulders. The poor kid clearly underestimated your determination, and promptly landed in the water, ass first. Frank cheered you on, patting his large palm on your leg before letting you fall into the pool with a little nudge. You emerged from the water laughing, the adrenaline coursing through your veins so potent you could not stop, giggling almost uncontrollably as it sizzled through you. "Yeah! We win! suck it!" Frank's arms wrapped around you in a tight hug, your body reciprocated before your mind had a chance to catch up, squishing your cheek against his chest. It was over before you even realized. A quick innocent congratulatory hug, that pressed you against his solid frame that towered over you, sending your already overstimulated brain into a tailspin.

*******

You remembered that day vividly, in detail, every part of your visit to the pool was etched into your mind. It was like a switch flipped, or a wire was plugged in, sometimes you likened it to a detonation of a bomb. It confused you at first, you were flooded with something so potent that it took you a while to recognize what that was. The tingling sensation between your thighs was familiar, but it was never this intense. The deep shameful truth was that from that day forward, Frank Castle was responsible for the vast majority of your orgasms, without touching you once. It horrified you at first, especially when you learned that he was 19 years older than you. You were disgusted with yourself, with the thoughts that kept getting increasingly more explicit as you aged. It didn’t matter if you were touching yourself or having sex with someone else. It didn’t matter how it started, it would almost always end with him. His voice, his hands, his face, thinking about him was the sure fire way of making yourself cum.

You hated yourself for thinking about him right now, on the way to your fathers fucking funeral. It was like a pavlovian response you could not shake. You were equal parts hoping you'd see him and dreading the thought of facing him. It’s been three years since you saw him last, and something changed that day.

Hanukkah 2019

The snow was piling outside, a wintery scene in complete contrast to the heat in your dad's kitchen. You were with your aunt Deborah, Jacob’s mom. She always loved it when you came to visit, she loved it especially when she got to spend time cooking with you. Being a boy-mom, they never took interest in her cooking. You however loved it, your mother was never much of a cook and this was your chance to learn from a true expert. You were making Sufganiyot* for Hanukkah. The jewish bakery made them well, but Aunt Deborah’s were divine. Something about adding buttermilk to the dough.

When Frank came that day it wasn’t planned. “Deb, are you making the jewish doughnuts again? I can smell it all the way across my yard, you’re killing me” his voice boomed as he entered the house. Your heart skipped. You were in your apron, covered in flour, and very much unprepared to see the man you harbored a weird sexual obsession towards.

“Come in Frank, they’re still hot” Deborah replied as she met him at the door, and Frank's heavy boots marched straight to the kitchen.

“Oh, hey there Hannah banana” he greeted you fondly, giving you a small wave. 20 years old, and still "Hannah banana"...

“Hey Frank” you waved back, not taking your eyes off the man.

He plucked a fresh warm Sufgania off the tray, covered in powdered sugar, with a little dollop of red jam on top. “Mmmm come here baby” he growled and stuffed his face into the soft dough, taking a huge bite, muttering “oh my god” and rolling his eyes back in pleasure. This man will be the death of you.

Frank chewed in delight as you tried not to laugh at him, his nose was covered in powdered sugar and jam. He looked back at you, fully aware of the dire situation of his face. “What? What?? I got something on my face?” he smirked, prompting you to giggle.

“Come here Kiddo, you have to taste this”.

He began to slowly advance towards you, before fully chasing you around the kitchen with the Sufgania in hand. You squealed, ‘trying’ to get away from him and ‘failing’. When he finally caught you and cornered you against the wall, he stuffed the remaining dough in your face. You laughed hysterically while attempting to clean your face from the sugar and jam, wiping a small drop from the corner of your mouth with your thumb, and sucking the finger, looking up at Frank through your lashes. Your eyes met at that exact moment, and for a beat you both got quiet. Too quiet.

His laughter faded into a polite smile almost instantly, as he backed off and walked out of the kitchen.

He never touched you again after that day. He was not even around for the rest of your visit. You saw him once more, just when you were leaving back to college. Instead of the usual goodbye hug he settled for a wave and a “Bye kiddo”, shortly disappearing back into the house.

Maybe he saw something in your eyes, something inappropriate that shouldn’t have been there in the first place. Maybe that’s when he realized that every time he touched you was like pouring gasoline into a raging fire. Maybe things could have been different, if only you were older, thinner, sexier…not just Saul’s chubby awkward kid.

It only took a second, one fucking second for Frank to notice what was right in front of him this whole goddamn time. One look into your soft eyes, One flick of pink tongue on your finger, and it was all clear. The thought traveled so fast from his cock to his brain he barely stopped it in time, running out of that kitchen as fast as humanly possible. You were just a kid, Saul’s kid. It was obviously sick to think about you in any other capacity.

He remembered the time you all went ice skating, how he held your little hand when you kept stumbling and falling. The time when he took you for your first unofficial driving lesson just before you turned 16, in the empty supermarket parking lot. The time when you called him looking for your dad, he told you he’s probably asleep, and you began crying because you knew what that meant.

Were you looking at him like that the entire time? You had no fucking business looking at him like that. How dare you look at him like that.

*******

You had just a few hours to get ready and make the trip back into your hometown for the funeral the following morning. Knowing how jewish funerals worked you weren't surprised, most are buried within 48 hours of passing.

Just a 3 hour trip from college, it felt like a different planet. You looked out of the frosted car window as Deborah was driving you both to her house, where the shiva* would be held. The snow fell softly and the storefronts decorated for Christmas gave your small town a charming cozy atmosphere. You could almost forget where you were headed.

Beth Moses cemetery was eerily foggy, the two dozen people who had gathered for your father’s funeral were murmuring almost silently to each other.

“You shouldn’t have worn that. And take that lipstick off, this is not a party.” your mother whispered as loudly as she possibly could, not taking into consideration that her voice carried. “Cover yourself up, here take my scarf” , you let her drape the back scarf over you, covering the dark gray sweater dress you were wearing under your coat, the one she deemed inappropriate because it showed some cleavage and clung to your belly a little too much for her liking.

“Well, thanks for the kriah* I won’t be wearing this again after this week, mother” you replied sarcastically. Even though sarcasm never seemed to work on that woman, she was immune to your snide comments, nothing could penetrate the thick layer of self righteousness she wore like her favorite garment the whole fucking time.

“Hey Han” Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of the familiar deep voice. He appeared before you almost instantly, mercifully tearing your attention from your mother and her constant disapproval. He leaned in for a polite hug, the scent of his cologne flooding your senses, spicy and crisp. He looked the same, just like you remembered and envisioned thousands of times. Same intense dark eyes, same strong jaw, same boxer's nose that you adored.

“How have you been?” he asked, his voice quiet and grave.

“Hey Frank, I’m ok, yeah..” you replied, robotically, still a little shocked to see him again.

"Jackie…" he acknowledged your mother with a nod, before proceeding to greet other members of the family.

The small crowd surrounded the newly dug grave, muttering “amen” with the rabbi as he read the Kadish*. The vapor from their mouths like a silent choir in the cold.

Sunshine broke briefly through the clouds as Saul Friedman’s casket was lowered into the earth. There was something pathetic about how small it looked, and your heart wrenched at the sight. Debora’s silent tears prompted your own but you sniffled, looking up, not allowing them to escape. “Shalom aba” you mumbled as you placed a small stone on the mound of soil that now covered him…

FIN.

Series Masterlist | Next Episode

Halacha - Jewish scripture. According to the rules in order for a person to be considered Jewish their mother needs to be Jewish. (according to Orthodox Judaism) Shiva - “Seven” - a period of seven days after the funeral when the family mourns the death. People often come to visit several times during the shiva. Kriah - “Tearing” - When a next of kin dies, the nuclear family members (parents, children, siblings) have their garments torn, to symbolize mourning. The garment is discarded after the shiva. Sufganiyot - (Singular: Sufganya) - Jewish doughnuts, served on Hanukkah. Traditionally filled with jam and topped with powdered sugar. Kaddish - A prayer said during the jewish funeral. Shalom Aba - “Goodbye dad”

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

If you'd like to be tagged in this series or in general please let me know.

#frank castle #frank castle x female reader #frank castle angst #jon bernthal #jewish representation #jewish reader #x plus size reader #original character

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prettyboykatsuki · 11 months

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So, guess who just finished reading won’t you lend me your faith, the shoujo manga fic for Rin. It’s me. I have much to say. I said I was gonna wait till the morning but I’m impatient and want you to know I absolutely loved and adored this fic.

I. Am. In love. With the reader. She’s literally so cute and I don’t know if it’s cause you wrote it in Rin’s pov but I fell in love with her?? She’s so endearing and I love her and I’d give the world for her oh my god. Her personality is so dorky and loud and loving and kind yet she’s so mature and caring for others and so incredibly sincere I would marry her if I had the chance.

I will say reader made me cry I fucking love her so much. The birthday scene where she set it up and she had on the silly party hat and she just had her hands up presenting what she set up? That’s what made me cry, oh my god it was just so sweet I couldn’t handle it anymore. The entire build up of Rin’s birthday up to that moment just made me feel all soft and warm and mushy, reader is so sweet for making Rin’s birthday special and treating him on it.

I do not know how to succinctly tell you that you wrote an incredible reader who took my heart and I literally fell in love with her and she made me cry and throughout the whole read I put down my phone multiple times to roll around in my bed and smile over her. She’s literally the love of my life I’d do anything for her and marry her if I had the chance.

OH. The scene where Rin realized he was in love? So still the birthday scene, I just think that was written incredibly well and the buildup of all of Rin’s emotions to that point throughout the whole fic was really well paced out and presented, BUT. When he was like “if she confesses I can’t lie to her?” His whole spiel? I was losing my mind.

I think they are the epitome of “fell first and fell harder”. Cause Rin once he realizes he not only likes her, but loves her and says he’s been grappling with it for only a little bit but it’s ripping him at the seams? And him causing that scene at school cause he’s irritated that he doesn’t see his girlfriend enough at school and can’t take it anymore? Yeah. yeah.

I’m so sorry, I’m hung up on the reader. I genuinely can not put into words how much I love her. Her sniffling and crying because she’s worried about the fact that she’s not going to see Rin? It’s so human and she’s so worried and I want to comfort her, I adore her beyond words. She is just so full of love and she’s so verbal with it and she communicates and it’s refreshing and Rin needs someone like that for sure but god I LOVE her.

I understand why in the writing process you kept saying you loved this reader. I get it, she’s so well written I adore her. Genuinely this is one of, if not the only, x reader I’ve read where the reader has such a refreshing, unique personality where it just made me love her so quickly. Like, I’m genuinely infatuated with her, I can’t describe it.

Okay, gonna try and focus on Rin now, sorry, I just love her so much. BUT RIN. I think you characterized him so well, incredibly so. Like, the build up, all of it, the fact it took nearly a year for Rin to be comfortable enough and secure enough to recognize that he liked her and was in love with her, that feels correct for Rin, you know? I think the detail of him just kinda seeing her as an amorphous blob also makes sense? He really is not the type to care for looks. He’s so demisexual coded to me, but anyways. But I also think you got how awkward and somewhat uncomfortable he gets in social situations too, I feel like you nailed it. Like how he doesn’t like socializing with classmates so reader was the shield, how awkward he was feeling when talking to reader’s older brother, how irritated he was at those classmates at the end.

But also his complicated emotions towards Sae; how he’s pretty sure his brother loves him now, but how he’s still not over or hasn’t fully come to terms or processed what Sae did to him in the past. I liked how you went over his morning routine where he legitimately thinks about his past with Sae, but I like how you detailed it as part of his meditation. Part of unraveling his heart and examining it. Wondering if it’ll always be this melancholic blue. Then followed by reader birthday breakfast, yippee. But double also, how the first time at the park where he was talking about how he feels towards Sae to her and how she says she wants to hug him and he lets her. That was sooooo. He needed that for real, I’m glad he indulged in that and hugged her back.

I love small details. I love that they played resident evil and how acutely aware Rin was of her presence before she started playing with his hair (I melted at that by the way, peak affection), how they talked about Ciguatera and how she poked at him for being such a boy and how he really is just a boy, reading a raunchy comic that’s still ultimately about romance, about how Rin was glad he went with her to get stationary because he had to glare at too many creeps, at how annoyed Rin was at the fact she regularly kept contact with his mom. OH, when Rin noticed that she wears a heart necklace under her uniform when they were cleaning the classroom. How all he could say was that she wasn’t in uniform and it’s all he was thinking when he took her to the mall to get stationary. I loved the fact that she would stomp her feet sometimes, like when Rin’s parents found them sleeping together and snapped a picture, how she kicked her feet. You always give the people you’re writing about very human traits or things they do and it just makes the read so easy and real, idk how to word it.

It’s all of these little scenes, these little details that just make your fic feel so alive and so tangible and just so perfectly here. I don’t know how to describe it, but everything adds up to be a beautifully written and executed shoujo manga type beat fic that I was so excited for and finally had the time to read.

But thank you for the food, incredible as usually, the buildup was perfect and I thought I was only going to tear up over the reader but her sincerity and genuine love made me actually cry at the birthday scene. I am a sap and a sucker for cute romance first. This is a long ass ask I’m so sorry ahdjsgdj

I feel like I said a lot of nothing, but TLDR: I’m so glad I read this, I love (LOVE) the reader, I loved watching Rin fall in love it was so wholesome, I love shoujo manga and the epilogue is cute (he’s so silly being petty).

sorry . it has been at least 3 days since ive recieved this ask and i simply wanted to give it the proper time and care when answering because it really made me blush and scream and cry so i apologize for the delay. i have a little time now so i hope this response is adequate enough to express my gratitude.

the main gist of this ask that im like. so absolutely delighted by is indeed your love for reader because (and i said this while writing as well) but reader is my absolute favorite character in the entire fic. i know it's supposed to be rin, and i do enjoy writing rin - but i think reader was the best part of writing this for me. i was honestly very nervous that people might find her too quirky and try-hard rather than endearing and uplifiting and lovely but i simply fell for her very hard in the process.

i have a tendency to write readers who are a little more callous along the edges so it as very refreshing and i think that kind of character is like. SO perfect for rin. you are absolutely right about "fell first but he fell harder" trope being them!! that was really the point of it all for me. she is so loving and so human and so kind.

and rin as a character is someone who has an almost monstorous view of himself. his self loathing just runs so deep and so hard that it was almost painfully sad writing some parts. IM REALLY GLAD MY DEMISEXUAL CODING OF HIM WAS PRESENT SDJKSSDKJ. like im genuinely glad it was picked up on bc it was so super intentional. esp w the part where he finds reader attractive but cant understand it.

WAAAAHHH HEARING YOU PICK UP ON ALL THESE LITTLE DETAILS MAKES ME WANT TO SOB AND SCREAM AND CRY. IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY. idk how to explain it but knowing that my words have reached u enough to rmb them like that just makes me so emotional. idk how to explain it....like its!! you know!! you know of me!!!! you know the things i wrote!! and memorized and enjoyed them even!!!! it makes me so indescribably happy that these little details like. resonated with you.

for rin in particular - i do not think he thinks very highly of very showy, very passionate love like he sees in movies. up until he meets reader he considers a lot of that bullshit because its so fake. but his lover for reader is truly just an amalgam of these little tiny moments where reader looked at him and saw him for exactly who and what he is. whether that be about sae or rins hatred for socializing. ultimately reader is a character who loves him wholly and unconditionally.

but rin doesn't learn that through her words, but her actions. she is kind and gentle and silly and honest and he needs her more than anything. i really have such a deep love for them, writing their story made me so emotional and i am so so so glad other people felt similiarly. im so glad the story resonated but this one esp bc i LOVE these two and would love to write more in their universe sometime.

ANYWAYS, thank u for this ask. thank u for the length. i weeped so much the day i read it and have thought about it every day since. im so exceedingly grateful. i cannot express it enough. THANK U SO KINDLY

#return to sender #hall of fame #I LOVE YOU ANON

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ari--anon · 5 months

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Hi! Big fan of your writing! If it’s not too much to ask:

How do you keep track of the small details you add in your writing? Especially the mega master writings. I find myself not writing for a while and struggling to remember or find the small infinitesimal detail I may or may not have mentioned - in order to keep coherency.

Hi, thank you :D

There's two way I keep track of details. First off, (and this saved me many times), I have a beta reader (friend of mine) who will often remember stuff I don't, and point it out in scenes where bringing that detail up would be plausible, or even if I completely contradicted something I've written before

Then I usually make a note of things that I should keep track of in a separate document, which is sort of a place where I dump all my chapter ideas. It doesn't have to be anything complicated, just a quick mention like "remember x!"

For example, me and my beta reader will often make rudimentary floorplans for rooms the characters will spend a lot of time in. These are made in ms paint and are really ugly, but I always come back to them to see where the characters are in relation to the room. (Plus this is a good way to initially really visualize the room!)

Or before I'm writing, I will make a really simple list of information to every character, and I will update it as I go. This includes stuff like age and important bits of appearance that stray from the norm, and then a sentence that describes the core of their character. You could do something similar with the chapters as you're writing them, so you'll always have an up-to-date list.

I know that taking notes is not for everyone, though, so this might not be good advice. Everyone has their own system that they need to crack, and I'm certainly still trying to settle into mine. Maybe, if notes aren't working for you, you could try to do it in a more visual way.

Like, if they pick up an item in chapter 4 that you want the character to use from then on, but you have trouble remembering, you could take a sticky note, write 'chapter 4' on top, and draw that item, and keep it close to your computer/laptop/writing paper. (Or if you write on your phone, I know that many notes apps have a function to draw on them too. It doesn't have too look pretty, you just have to know what it is! Like drawing a letter on your hand to remember something you need to do later)

If it's more abstract things, like a string of thought a character had that you think a character should hold onto for the story, this might get a bit more difficult, but I think that if you draw something related to it (even if it's just a thought bubble or something), you will most likely remember what it meant, even if vaguely.

But this is all stuff you do before, or during writing. I know this bit is difficult, especially when you've written A LOT but I guess the easiest way to keep track is to just read through it again.

But it's really important to remember that it's fine to go back and fix stuff! That's the fun part of posting online. If it's a matter of if a dress was white or red, and nothing you considered worth writing down (we can't put everything down after all) then I assure you, the minority of readers will catch if you change that up.

I'm currently going through iawwc again before posting the last chapter, because I'm looking out for exactly those type of details that might've gone under as I've been writing. Especially in those mega works that take a while to read and write, readers will often not notice if you changed a past chapter up so that it fits your current stand of things. So don't worry too much about this. Oftentimes when a detail went under, it probably wasn't that important in the first place, and can easily be cut out/changed.

I hope this helped, and thank you sm for your ask!

#asks <3 #i do hope it helps but everyone has their own way going about things #if you ask different authors they will give you wildly different answers

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b1tterdr0p · 1 year

Text

♥shifting realities♥

- What is shifting?

“shifting” is a term now used to describe the act of moving your consciousness from this current reality (CR) to your desired reality (DR). This idea uses the multiverse theory, stating that every decision or action we make shifts us into a new reality!

For example, say I have a book and a Paper to choose from. Choosing the paper would shift me into a reality where I chose the paper, while at the same time creating alternate realities where, for example, I chose the book, or I chose both, or maybe I chose neither. these infinite possibilities, anything we can imagine exists in some faraway reality. Many people say they have shifted to a reality where they’re a student at Hogwarts, with the ability to use magic and fly on broomsticks or some say that they have shifted to the marvel universe where they defeat Thanos..etc etc

While I have not shifted myself — still working on it — I've gathered a lot of information from people who have successfully shifted. Whether or not you choose to believe in shifting, This does sound like a wild idea, almost too good to be true, but trust me, it is real

~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~

There is a lot of misinformation on the internet about shifting here are the answers to those frequently asked questions:

- does shifting go against my religion?

No. It is not religious whatsoever, it's more science than anything, another term of shifting which is "quantum jumping", it's a complicated sience theory that I honestly still don't understand, But overall shifting has no ties to your religion.

- is shifting dangerous?

Shifting is not dangerous, some Creators on TikTok claim that you could get stuck in your DR , but that's false, you can make a Safe word to come back to your CR, no matter what you do, if you choose to stay in your DR for lifetime, you will come back no matter what, Dying In your DR will result in you waking up in your CR.

~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~

Here are some tips for your shifting journey:

1. Take breaks, attempting to shift and Shifting successfully can be extremely draining, it's good to let your body and mind rest from time to time, you can take long breaks if needed.

2. Stay positive! The more you think badly of yourself and your ability to shift, the less likely you will be able to reach your goal, it's completely normal to have doubts, it's what we humans do, however, as long as you keep hope and Reaffirm that you are capable of shifting,

3. Be clear about what you want! This means knowing your goals and desires!

4. Don't expect results overnight! It's important to remember that shifting to your DR takes time, it may take days, weeks, months for your goals to manifest.

~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~

Now! Onto the real deal!

Scripting

This is the action of writing down details about the reality you want to go to. This is done to finetune which specific reality you would like to shift to as there are infinite possibilities. For example, I could write down in my script that I’m 7’3” and have infinite money so that I shift to a reality where this is true. You can be as detailed or as brief as you want. It’s important, though, that you write in the present tense. Doing this will basically trick your brain into believing that what you have written has actually happened, making it easier to shift. Most people write out their script like a first-person story, detailing what happens in their DR as if it really happened. Scripts can be written anywhere: in a journal, in the notes app on your phone, etc. Some important things to script include immortality (unless you want to die in your DR, up to you), high pain tolerance, and your way of returning back to your CR (very important!! You can script, for example, that closing your eyes and saying “I’m going back to my CR” will take you back. These safe words/actions are used in case you want to leave on the fly). While scripting is not necessary whatsoever (you really only have to think about your DR), it may help you visualize your DR and focus on specificity.

Relaxing / Mediating

One key part of being able to shift is staying calm and relaxed, From personal experience, I find that if I meditate and relax my body and mind before starting a shifting method, I feel closer to shifting than I do when I don’t meditate. all you need to do is find a quiet place where you can sit and let all your thoughts flow out of your brain, focusing on your breathing or your heartbeat. I recommended using earbuds and listening to guided meditations or subliminals (music infused with hidden frequencies to target your subconscious mind) on YouTube to help relax your mind.

Finding a method

There are loads of methods that people have made up in order to visualize your DR, some of which require that you fall asleep in order for it to work, some of which don’t. A few of these methods include the Estelle Method, Staircase Method, Train Method, Alice and Wonderland Method, Julia: I Am Method, Seren Method, Falling Method, Melt Method, Pillow Method, and Raven Method. These same methods can also be tailored towards those who struggle with visualization. Instead of picturing your DR in your mind, you would focus more on your five senses, trying to trick your brain into thinking that your body is experiencing things from your DR. I’m not going to get into the specifics of each of these methods, if you’re looking for more information, both TikTok and Amino provide amazing explanations on the methods people have shared. In the end, though, you shouldn’t be hyper-fixating on which specific method you’re going to do. Shifting is different for everybody; one method might work well for one person and not work so well for someone else. You can change around the methods and form your own method that is the easiest for you to relax with, But, you can also shift without using any methods.

Noticing Symptoms of shifting

There are certain symptoms when you’re trying to shift that will let you know that you’re getting close. Some of these symptoms include feeling weightless or heavy, tingliness, feeling as though you’re spinning or falling, hearing voices or sounds associated with your DR, seeing flashes of light, etc. Not everybody will experience the same symptoms. For example, I sometimes experience weightlessness, spinning, flashes of light, and hearing voices, but that does not mean that everybody else does. Once you notice these symptoms, it’s important that you remain calm and focus on your visualization/senses. These symptoms will likely prompt you to get excited, and rightfully so! It’s very exciting to finally feel that you’re getting close to your DR, but try not to let them take your focus away from shifting. The last thing you want is to feel the symptoms and then get too excited and completely wake up (trust me, it's a bummer!). Just note that you feel these symptoms and try to keep them in the back of your mind as you continue with your method, some people shift without feeling these symptoms.

Entering your DR

some of the shifting methods will have you go to sleep in order to work and some will have you stay awake. For sleep methods, obviously, you will wake up inside your DR after using the method before bed. For awake methods, however, it can be a little bit more tricky to know when you’ve made it. When should you open your eyes? A common tactic that people use in order to figure this out is to script that your eyes will automatically open when you’ve successfully shifted. Others script that they smell a specific scent when they’ve shifted, such as mint or cinnamon. With this, you’ll know for sure when you’ve shifted, instead of just trying to guess and likely opening your eyes too soon!

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This covers just about everything I’ve learned about shifting. Overall, don’t focus too much on the process! You don’t want to be thinking too hard about your script or what method you’re going to use and completely forget about your goal. This is meant to guide your own personal process. Do what you find works the best for you and allows you to be the most comfortable!

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A/N: I gathered these informations from websites and Amino!

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