#how to choose cloud storage | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lay-z · 6 months ago

Text

cotton candy clouds | 1

Synopsis: Due to his rank, status, and many combat achievements, Lieutenant Riley is assigned an emotional support hybrid by the brass; whether he likes it or not.

Pairing: handler!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x dog!hybrid!fem!Reader

Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | Reader is a purebred Samoyed (dog)hybrid. Despite ears, tails, and their adapted nature/instincts/personalities, hybrids have human features. | bimbo!Reader; hypersexuality; dom/sub elements; heavy smut; tw: past (sexual) abuse/manipulation; cussing; fluff; angst; hurt/comfort; eventual romance; strangers to lovers; dub-con elements (Some warnings only apply to future parts!)

☁ ccc; masterlist

Simon remembers telling Price to ‘piss off with that shite’ when the latter had approached him with the brass’ announcement of granting the Lieutenant the rare permission to become the handler of an emotional support hybrid.

There aren’t many officers on base who are allowed to have one, and Simon knows why that is. In his opinion, the whole handler/hybrid deal has all the negative connotations of a toxic and borderline abusive relationship, and Simon simply doesn’t want to be part of that.

Did anyone of those fuckers ever bother to read his file? He bloody well doubts it.

He does respect the official handlers and trainers of the military K9’s on base, though. Whatever bond they share was forged and solidified in battle and goes way beyond that odd and shallow power play that happens between some officers and their so-called “pets”.

So, Simon said no to the offer, firmly and several times at that. He doesn’t care for the bloody permission, no matter how rare it is, no matter how fellow soldiers who’d caught rumour about it had blatantly stated their envy about the possibility of gaining a hybrid pet themselves. Truthfully, Simon becomes sick to his stomach whenever one of the other officers and NCO’s talk about wanting to own a pretty pleasure puppy; something dumb and docile to have fun and unwind with in their time off duty.

Fucking hell. No, Simon doesn’t want to be part of that, let alone be responsible of some freakish hybrid mutt.

Weeks pass, both thoughts and arguments about hybrids and handlers are pushed back and filed away in some nook inside Simon’s mind as he falls back into his daily grind and familiar routine; running drills, paperwork, field trainings, preparing for missions, more paperwork.

Until one fateful day in January.

The UK weather has been more terrible lately; icy rain and howling winds beating down on base while Simon was trying to keep the rookies in line at the shooting range. By the end of the day, his fatigues were drenched and clinging to his broad frame while the chill was seeping through his pale skin, settling into his bones; making his limbs heavy and turning them stiff as if he’d carried a rucksack full of boulders on his back for a week straight.

The moment Simon arrives at the front door to his flat on base, though, the hairs at the back of his neck bristle immediately. The hallway is empty, but–

Something isn’t right. He can practically sense that someone was here, perhaps even inside his place in the worst case.

Halting in his measured steps while his breathing levels out to that eerie shallowness he’s adapted to on missions, his ears perk up under his skull balaclava as he listens for any odd noises coming from inside. Unable to pick up anything unusual, Simon still chooses to rather be safe than sorry as he reaches for his pistol in the holster strapped to his right thigh.

Simon manages to open the front door without any noise before he slips inside effortlessly, living up to his name as a ghost as he stalks through his flat on high alert; checking the small storage room before sneaking down the short, dark hallway leading up to his open living room. He can bloody sense that something is different, that someone has tampered with his safe space; he can smell the lingering scent of cigarette smoke, sweat, and tangy cologne even through his damp balaclava.

The sight that greets him on his old, tattered couch when he eventually flips on the light switch, is unlike anything he expected and Simon’s whole body tenses, eyes widening comically as if he’s met face to face by a firing squad.

But it’s just you, a bloody dog hybrid, curled up on his couch like you belong there–which you don’t.

And Simon slowly lowers his pistol, watches your fluffy white ears appear from under your hair as they perk up before you lift your head, like pristine cotton balls popping open in the sunlight; your body uncurling and stretching slowly while you squint against the bright yellow drop-light.

“What the bloody… fuck,” Simon breathes, chest deflating with a deep sigh as he puts his pistol back into his holster, securing it once more. Dark eyes flicker around the room before he catches a large black suitcase next to what looks like a gift basket.

Simon approaches the basket the way he would a bomb threat while his vigilant eyes keep shifting towards you as if you could attack him any moment, although you’re clearly still waking up, all discombobulated and sleep-drunk.

When Simon catches a clear view at the assortment of goodies and the black folder tucked between them inside the basket, his cold heart stutters and his blood freezes in his veins. At the sight of the pale pink collar with its matching leash, the vein in his temple throbs with a mixture of fury and revulsion.

The sound of your soft, sickly-sweet voice chirping out a greeting nearly makes his wretched soul leave his body. “Hi… Hello.”

Simon takes a step back, needing a protective wall at his back and as much space between himself and you as possible as he tries to assess the situation.

“How the fuck did you get inside my flat?” Simon mutters under his breath, dark eyes widening when he realizes the thumping in his ears doesn’t match his rapid heartbeat but belongs to your fluffy white tail gently wagging against the soft leather of his couch; just as fluffy and white as your ears, like freshly made cotton candy.

“I was brought here and told to wait for my new handler,” you answer as your head tilts to the side curiously, gazing up at the large man with bright doe-eyes. “Are you Simon?”

Simon’s narrowed eyes widen instantly again at the sound of your voice uttering his name so sweetly, so... casually. It makes him sick to his stomach, and he swallows back the sour taste in his mouth as it fills with saliva.

“Who the fuck brought you ‘ere?”

He needs a name, so he knows who to beat to a pulp before he grabs the first poor bastard who crosses his path next.

“Uhm–oh!” Your small, triangle-shaped ears perk up, and the giggle you let out makes Simon grimace underneath his mask. “They had silly names for humans,” you tell him, still giggling softly to yourself before adding: “Gaz and Soap.”

Simon huffs in exasperation and pinches the bridge of his nose. Of course, it explains the “special orders” his bloody Sergeants had gotten from Price today; the reason he couldn’t attend today’s training session. And suddenly, it all clicks into place.

“You’re all wet, Simon,” you remark about his appearance; sweet voice laced with a concern so genuine that is has his spine tense and his stomach churn with aversion. “Are you not cold?”

He wants to bark at you to stop calling him by his name, to stop trying to appeal to him just because your bloody stupid nature tells you to, to stop imprinting on your so called “new handler” just because someone told you that you belong to him now. He wants you out of his flat and out of his life before anything terrible and out of his control can take root and blossom behind his ribcage.

“Get up,” he snaps at you before his thoughts can spiral any further and he almost, almost feels bad when you flinch in your seat, ducking your head submissively while your ears flatten against your head. “I’m taking you back. You’re not staying here, lass.”

“W-What?” Your face drops, your fluffy tail stops wagging; eyes glossing over as you begin to tremble and shrink on the spot. The sound of your soft whine only angers Simon more, because it tugs on his heartstring, makes his protective instincts flare.

“You heard me. Get up and grab your fuckin’ suitcase. ’m taking you back to wherever you came from.”

When Simon glances back at you, something mean and violent lodges itself into his chest cavity; twisting and squeezing his rotten heart as soon as he sees the devastated look on your face; ears drooping and shoulders slouching in defeat while another soft whine vibrates in your chest.

“Okay,” you answer eventually, snivelling when fat tear breaches your lower lash line and runs down your supple cheek as you untuck your legs from under yourself to move off the couch. “Okay…”

There’s a shrill ringing in his ears when Simon’s mouth seems to move on its own, making a decision for him. “Wait. Stay–Stay right where you bloody are.”

And you immediately do as you’re told, like the obedient pup you obviously are, settling back and perking up again as you blink dumbly at the brutish man with bright, big eyes and an expectant look that makes Simon groan internally before he reaches into one of his many pockets to retrieve his old smartphone.

He mutters and curses under his breath as the cracked screen lights up, and it doesn’t take long for him to find his Captain’s name in his short contact list. Simon taps the screen with his gloved thumb to call the man, ready to argue tooth and nail to have you picked up by from his flat again, so he doesn’t have to deal with it.

Simon’s jaw is clenched tightly while his sharp gaze keeps flickering back to you, still not quite believing you’re not some stress-induced hallucination, or nightmare.

It takes two rings before Price picks up.

“Ghost–“

Simon inhales deeply. “Price–“

“Getting acquainted with your new companion, son? She’s quite the sweetheart. Easy on the eyes, too, judging by what the lads told me.”

His chest deflates, air rushing from his lungs in a long exhale. That comment alone is enough to make him even more furious. “I don’t want her. Take her back to wherever she came from, Captain.”

There’s a beat of tense silence before Price speaks up again, and Simon can hear the squeak of the old office chair as the other man leans back in it.

“Did you read her file yet?”

“No, should I?” Simon counters gruffly, feeling his patience grow thinner by the second.

“Aye, son, I suggest you should.”

“Gimme the short version, Price. I’m this close to handing her over to the next lucky bloke who passes by my fuckin’ flat.”

“Yeah, don’t do that,” Price says decisively on the other; his gruff voice way too calm for Simon’s liking. “She’s a rescue, Lieutenant. Got rescued from one of those terrible puppy mills.”

That makes Simon shut up as his eyes flicker over to you; softening somewhat when his eyes lock with yours. You keep watching him with the slightest pout, waiting for orders or for him to finally send you away. He’s still considering it, though the revelation of your background makes him hesitate for some odd reason. Empathy.

“Simon?”

Simon squeezes the phone harder in his grip; hard enough he thinks he might break it once and for all. “You better find a new handler for her, Captain.” He bites out through clenched teeth. “It’s not gonna be me.”

Price sighs. “Alright.” There is another pause and Simon can hear it when Price scratches his coarse beard in contemplation before he speaks up again. “Just keep an eye on her for the night, aye? I’ll make the necessary arrangement to have her transferred to someone else.”

“Good. She can stay for one night. One. Night.” Simon growls before hanging up.

The soft sound of your tail thumping against the couch catches his attention again and when he looks back at you, you’re practically beaming at him.

“Fuckin’ hell…”

#cotton candy clouds #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #call of duty #cod #hybrid au #hybrid!reader #handler!ghost #ghost x reader #cod hybrid au #cod x reader #reader insert

3K notes · View notes

glowettee · 6 months ago

Text

digital notes guide part 1/5: setting up your aesthetic note-taking system 🎀

posted by: glowettee

hey study angels! ♡ mindyyy heree

omg so many of you have been asking about my digital notes setup, and i'm so excited to share all my secrets! this is going to be a 5-part series on creating the most aesthetic and effective digital notes ever. i'm going to start with the basics! this is super exciting because digital notes are literally unlimited, no wasting paper, and no perfect handwriting required.

♡ choosing your digital notebook

because the right foundation changes everything:

notion (my personal fave):

amazing for linking different pages

super customizable layouts

can embed literally everything

aesthetic cover images

databases for tracking progress

easy table of contents

goodnotes:

perfect for iPad users

feels like writing on paper

pretty digital stickers

custom paper templates

easy organization system

beautiful handwriting options

onenote:

works across all devices

infinite canvas (so dreamy!)

easy subject dividers

voice recording option

drawing capabilities

♡ essential digital tools

make sure you have these ready:

hardware needs:

reliable device (laptop/tablet)

stylus if using tablet (worth the investment!)

external keyboard (for faster typing)

good lighting for screen

comfortable study space

backup charging cables

software must-haves:

note-taking app of choice

cloud storage system

screenshot tool

pdf annotator

calendar app

backup system

♡ creating your aesthetic setup

because pretty notes = happy studying:

color scheme selection:

choose 3-4 main colors

pick 2-3 accent colors

create highlight palette

save hex codes

make color meaning system

maintain consistency

font selection:

main text font (i use garamond)

heading font (something cute!)

emphasis font

quote font

size hierarchy

spacing rules

♡ basic organization system

keep everything findable:

folder structure:

semester folders

subject folders

unit folders

topic folders

resource folders

revision folders

naming convention:

date_subject_topic

use consistent formatting

add emoji indicators

number sequence system

status markers

importance levels

♡ template creation

work smarter not harder:

essential templates:

lecture notes template

reading notes template

study guide template

revision notes template

project planner template

weekly overview template

template elements:

header section (date, subject, topic)

learning objectives area

main content space

summary section

question bank area

revision checklist

setting up your digital note system might take time, but it's so worth it! think of it like creating your perfect study sanctuary - every detail matters!

the next post will be getting into actually taking notes during class (and making them both pretty and effective!). for now, focus on setting up your perfect system.

pro tip: don't get too caught up in making everything perfect from the start. your system will evolve as you use it, just like how my notes looked completely different freshman year!

xoxo, mindy 🎀

152 notes · View notes

yanderespetdarling · 7 months ago

Text

Yandere best friend x reader

tw: yandere, dubcon, yandere themes, male yandere and gn reader

You and your best friend had walked this path countless times before, the shortcut through the alley between the gym and the storage shed. But today, something was different. The tension between you was unbearable, an echo of what had happened in the hallway earlier. His arm had lingered too long around your shoulders, long enough to make the classmate you were talking to visibly uncomfortable. You’d laughed it off then, but now, under the heavy weight of his silence, it was impossible to ignore.

"Hey," you said, forcing a casual tone. "You really need to stop doing stuff like that."

"Like what?" he replied, his voice cool and distant, though his eyes flicked toward you, sharp and calculating.

"The arm around me... It’s just kind of…" You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. "It’s coupley, you know? I think people are starting to get the wrong idea."

He stopped abruptly, turning to face you, his gaze locking onto yours.

"And what idea is that?" he asked, stepping closer.

You instinctively stepped back, your shoulders brushing against the cool surface of the brick wall behind you.

"That we’re a couple," you said, trying to laugh it off, the sound coming out shaky. "And a really clingy one at that!"

His expression hardened, the faint smile on his lips twisting into something unrecognizable. Without warning, he grabbed your wrist, pulling it above your head and pinning you against the wall with a force that left you breathless. You gasped, staring up at him in shock.

"Why aren’t we a couple?" he demanded, his voice low and rough, each word laced with something unhinged.

"What?" You blinked, your mind racing to process what was happening.

"You like me," he pressed, leaning in closer until his hot breath brushed against your skin. "I know you. I know you do, I know everything about you. Inside and out. You have to have noticed the way I feel, so why aren’t we together? Is it me? Do you not find me attractive? Tell me, I’ll change for you."

Your cheeks flushed at his words, the intensity of his gaze leaving you flustered and overwhelmed. It was true you’d always found him attractive. His unruly hair, those piercing eyes, the sharp angles of his jawline. But this wasn’t how you’d imagined confronting those feelings. Not like this.

"I..." You stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want you to change. I didn't know you… felt like this… I-"

For a brief moment, his expression softened, his grip on your wrist loosening. Relief washed over you, fleeting and fragile. But before you could take a breath, his lips crashed against yours.

The kiss was anything but gentle. It was rough, demanding, a collision of desperation and possession that left you reeling. Your free hand pressed against his chest, trying to push him away, but he was unyielding. His body pressed you harder against the wall, trapping you in place.

You squirmed, panic rising as his hands began to wander, trailing down your sides with an unnerving sense of ownership. Your protests were muffled against his lips, your attempts to push him off futile against his strength.

He pulled back for a moment, his eyes blazing with satisfaction as he took in your flushed face, your wide, fearful eyes. "See?" he murmured, his voice dripping with triumph. "We’re perfect together."

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of fear and confusion clouding your thoughts as he leaned in again, his grip tightening like a vice.

#romantic yandere #yandere boyfriend #soft yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere thoughts #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere blog #yandere x you #actually yandere #male yandere x reader #male yandere oc x reader #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere x darling #yandere

148 notes · View notes

miabbh · 1 month ago

Text

Oh, Snow ❄️

idol!Baekhyun x fem!reader

Synopsis: Sometimes waiting is worth nothing. Some other times, when life is generous enough, we are allowed to follow what the stars saved for us. There were no stars on that night, but you're so grateful that, even through the clouds of that freezing cold night, Baekhyun came to you.

Genre: best friends to lovers to strangers to lovers? again, break up with fluffy ending kinda, baekhyun slightly drunk, mention of distance relationships, a lot of little cries cus I was sad and nostalgic for the love i never had when i wrote this, a million years ago | ~5,2k words

“Yes, Herr. Checking the east side.” you said on the radio attached to your dark blue vest as soon as you got the message from the building’s security center. Placing the radio back into the holder on the right side of your chest, you turned left slightly annoyed.

Zürich was freezing by this time of the year, your warm clothes out of the storage room a very, very, very long time ago. Even so, whenever you went outside, your whole body complained, your breath becoming visible in a cloud of air that left your mouth at each second.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes to that ridiculous occurrence, to say the least. It was almost two in the morning, the air cool as the snow slowly painted the city white all over again, but some idiot—with all respect, in theory they were all your bosses—was singing in the building's courtyard! Singing in the cold! They'd probably want to lose their voice for the rest of the week, for sure!

There were only ten minutes left of your shift before a day off. The desire to go home, to take a hot shower and sleep wrapped in your fluffy blankets until noon the next day was so deep in your mind and body that the halls seemed quite longer than usual.

Apparently, four people contacted the concierge to complain about the noise. Funny enough, you didn't hear anything during your patrol. If the windows in the halls were soundproof, why weren't the windows in the flats as well?

Maybe you were a bit too distracted, too. Posters and advertisements and fans of a nostalgic piece of your past were everywhere lately—just across the street, at the bus stop; a song playing on the radio in an honorable mention of the best-selling albums of the year that made you listen to the entire new album for an entire week. He was being more successful than ever, and you couldn't help but feel proud.

The only thing you weren't proud of was the fact your stubbornness and fear made you miss each step of the way.

You were scared… too scared, too naive. Life alongside a star in the music world that he already was at the time, and the confusion of your own life, so much less successful compared to his, made you act without thinking rationally into it.

Baekhyun was the most sweet and caring person you've ever met—still is, even after meeting so many people in the academy where team spirit was essential, and in life. No one else you've crossed paths with has made you feel so comfortable, so understood, so loved— so at home as Baekhyun did.

How could you not feel like it?—he greeted you with the biggest smile when you first arrived in Korea to finish your studies. He ran by your side first thing in the morning during PE class to welcome you and ask for your name, purposely choosing you for his team during the volleyball game.

He was a star already at the time, having a band and all. Your place in the corners, trying to catch a word or two of what he said during the songs as you still struggled with the language was a sweet memory you still recall, when the present times seem too complicated to deal with.

While he helped you with the Korean language, your physics explained in a silly way helping him memorize the content for the exams as if it was an ‘academic gossip’; and some teasing from your classmates, who concocted at least a dozen false confessions that you would have in each other's lockers by the end of the month.

At first, when you knew it was a joke—you knew Baekhyun's handwriting too well to believe he had written it—you laughed about it with him; so his group of friends, who through the cupid spirit got together to practice Baekhyun's clumsy handwriting, wrote a letter so good that it seemed genuine.

Your smile disappeared the moment your heart skipped a beat as you read the first lines.

And you still felt uneasy just by thinking of it.

You turned the corner, a man apparently your age walking out of the elevator to the exit door. He seemed slightly intoxicated, red cheeks and lazy eyes, but he was walking straight. A polite ‘goodnight’ and nod were exchanged between you—he was sober enough.

You actually loved Baekhyun—it wasn't just a mix-up of a quick connection. You clicked. You just clicked instantly. That should've been enough for you to accept that just friends don't hug each other so close while saying ‘I like you lots’ with those brown puppy eyes; nor dedicate love songs in front of the whole high school, just leaving your eyes for enough time not to the audience feel left out; friends don't walk around the school with a hand on each other's pockets in the cold winter of January, usually the long fingers intertwining the smaller ones as if they never wished to let go.

And all of these mentioned in the letter you were holding in your hands, one by one, in that exact same order, made you believe that, perhaps, those written words were truly his feelings. But as soon as his bigger palm hugged the back of your hand, leaning the paper to be able to read it—and frown—you knew it was the work of his friends. The moment you arrived in class, they got noisy, asking if you and Baekhyun—walking in behind you—liked the colour of the card and were finally dating.

No, you weren't, you replied to them. You were just good friends.

By the end of the year, though, it was obvious for everyone but you. Maybe for you too, looking back, but neither of you both confessed.

You saw him along the way as a trainee, the long hours he dedicated to dancing and voice lessons while you pored over college books. And then, when he debuted, you were there too—on the front row under the afternoon sun, cheering for him and the other boys you grew to like over time, without worrying about taking the last bus back home.

One night, when he managed to accompany you home on a day off, you stayed at his house for a sleepover after dinner with his family. It wasn't exactly the first time... but you'd never stayed so late as to sleep there. Until that night.

That night, something changed. That it was longing or the pride for him that ran through your veins and made you want to hug him and never let go, as if that would allow him to remain so precious to you, in a mixture of blood boiling in the faces and expectant and startled looks, you were lying next to him, squeezed between his body and the pillow against the wall.

He confessed.

He kissed you.

He kissed you, again and again, and then again, until you couldn't even be apart, trying to melt into each other's arms as if the world was ending right in that moment. His lips, so soft and swollen met yours with no rush, taking you in the wrap of a caress as deep as the part of your heart that was filled with the new sensation of having the beats so quick. Without realizing how it could be, it was also serenity that made you feel sinking in the mattress to a blissful unawareness of the world around you.

You didn't confess your feelings for him that night. Despite holding him by the arm, your hands eagerly moving up to the warmth of his neck and then your thumbs on his jaw in a caress you for so long dreamed of, you didn't verbalize it. He was a celebrity, under those rules and restrictions that you couldn't quite conceive. You couldn't put him at risk.

You stepped into the cold breeze of night, the sound of your steps on the white blanket and the blowing wind on the edges of the balconies the only things heard.

You accepted that night as the first of many, agreeing to discuss a relationship to be as discreet as possible. You were happy, sleeping in his arms. It was enough to keep both your hearts warm.

The next morning, you kissed him first—you needed that, after dreaming about it so many times, sometimes not even understanding why he was a constant in your sleeping state. Having the sun getting in the room through the blinders made it seem less scary.

But you woke up from the dream with a noise that initially seemed to belong to that little world of yours, until a bang! forced you to come to your senses.

Your parents had to leave the country again, and you had no means of staying. Baekhyun offered help—financial help, to find a shared room somewhere in an area with good access to the city. You were too scared of how it could mean to both of you; and your parents were not completely in agreement either.

You gave in.

In a less busy area of the airport, you told them you loved Baekhyun and you couldn't leave him behind. ‘You can't be dependent on someone you know for such a short time, dear. If you realize you're not made for each other, what will you do?'. You didn’t want to think of Baekhyun’s financial help as depending on him; much less think of the end of something that hasn't even started. Of course it would be difficult to continue studying and working, but it wasn't impossible; meeting him would be hard, too, but you could manage it. It would be worth it, because you had found your place there, in that city, in his arms.

Nothing seemed to convince them anyway. As you sat in a chair waiting for the coffee that might help the tears get less salty, less heavy, less overwhelming as your heart seemed to lose its need to beat on a normal measure, you felt a hand on your shoulder.

It was him! Only chocolate brown eyes, swollen and melted by a plea and hopelessness were visible between the zip cap that ended on his forehead and the mask that rested on his nose, but it was Baekhyun. Right there, right in front of you in a crowded airport, certainly with a replica of your own feelings.

It just made it harder. You shook your head.

You gave in, and there was no turning back.

“You're 21.” The desperation in his voice was quickly masked by a serious tone. “And I'm by your side. You know me. Your parents know me. You're gonna be okay and get your degree because you worked for it and-”

“You know it’s not that easy to be half a world apart from your parents.” the words barely left your lips.

Something in his gaze shifted, a sudden flash of light crossing it.

“Living with you half a world apart from me won't be easy either.” he replied, the words stuck in his throat, muffled by the mask. But you heard him, the admission weighing more heavily on your heart than you thought.

Grabbing the collar of his coat, you pulled him towards you and lowered his mask, admiring his pink lips and slightly swollen nose before your lips met… that kiss was the small and simple spark needed to light a fire. The softness of his lips in such a tender and desperate caress against yours, the hands that used to hold yours holding your face in an almost fearful gesture, his thumb against your cheek, your temple, trying to memorize you. And trying to make you stay.

You grabbed his biceps, fighting to steady yourself to the ravishing feeling of feeling so loved back. But you had to say no again. You couldn't stay. You weren't ready to live on your own, they said, and deep down you knew it was true.

You didn't cry, though. It was a promise. You would wait for each other, so then you would cry.

The wait, however, turned into almost ten years of loss of contact. Even now, with your move in to Seoul planned, how could you reach him if you were the first one to take too long to reply to the messages, too guilty, too regretful and too weak to face your own choices?

You walked forward to the courtyard.

You were still looking for him. In a different way—although with the same feelings, or more mature even. The big doubt remained: would he want to see you?

In fact, a shadow was sitting on one of the benches in the courtyard under the white light, but it was silent, curled up due to the cold. Maybe whoever there was would get up and leave soon enough.

Maybe he wouldn't want to see you that way anyway. One can't wait forever, right? Would you wait?

You blew into your hands, trying to warm them up. The security company's shirts and coats were warm, the vest providing extra comfort, like a tight hug, but the ban on the use of scarves or gloves was still a problem on the freezing nights.

Your mind wandered again to that photo of Baekhyun dressed in a black suit with shiny stones sewn on it, right across the street on the bus stop—apparently his film would be in the city's theatres soon. He was so different… his figure, his broad shoulders made him look so much huggable—attractive, if you were honest. Age did wonders to the handsome young man whose arms once you found comfort in.

You wondered how things could be if you did stay, instead of buying that competitive instinct your family exposed you, because you needed to be more but you weren't ready yet and you wouldn't be able to be more if depending on someone without legitimate commitment!

It's okay to accept help, dammit! He was your best friend, someone who loved you and wanted you well. Maybe you could have done it. With him. By your side. With him.

With him…

The wind blew hard, sharp knives that seemed to cut your cheeks.

Well, maybe he could be hugging you during cold nights, after a good dinner and lazy cuddling on the couch that maybe could’ve led to something else fiery. Maybe you didn't even need to be out during cold nights because someone thought it was a good idea to give a public show in the middle of the night in a residential area.

You leaned against the lamppost, your hands inside the sleeves’ holes of your vest as you checked the time on your watch: your shift was over. The person was still there, in the same position. Five more minutes and you would send the person away, it was too cold to be outside.

The blessed creature was probably another ‘in drunk state guy’ from the hangover of one of the residents, which was not as off-routine as the usual for the festive spirit. Well, you had nothing to do with that. As long as they didn't cause trouble or disturb the other inhabitants, your job was just to make sure everything was safe.

The minutes passed.

And a few more…

A few more…

Each breath seemed to cut its way down your throat for how cold the air was, and you could barely feel your thumbs. The person didn't even move.

Go homeee, pleeeease! You're gonna freeze! …Not that I have anything to do with it, but…

A few more…

Oh man, come oooon go homeeee! Are you too drunk to walk by yourself? You're gonna freeze for real and I will be an accomplice!

Two more minutes…

Enough! It's too cold! We're going home!

You turned away from the lamppost, your fingers freezing when you placed both free hands at your sides. The boots made noise with each step taken in the snow to get closer. It was a man. And at that moment, the hooded man tilted his head back, a soft melody echoing through the space.

The hoarse but sweet tone spoke the words you knew very well in a melody that was also familiar. You could almost swear you knew that voice too—very, very, very well.

Suddenly, a glimmer of hope appeared inside you in an explosion that almost took the air out of you. But as quickly, you mind told you no—it would be unrealistic… Baekhyun had much more to do than to be out at night singing to the snow. In Zürich!

But perhaps… perhaps it was him!

“Excuse me-” your voice barely above a sigh was interrupted.

The radio beeped suddenly.

“Agent, do you require support?” the voice of the security guard at the entrance was heard through the gadget, scaring both of you.

He stopped singing, turning to you, the hood falling down his head.

Your heart skipped a beat, your lungs suddenly too small for the air you inhaled. No, no, no. Your mind couldn't be so desperate to make you dream this realistically!

Yet, there he was, his brown eyes wide open, lips parted and eyebrows arched in shock, drawing his beautiful features you’ve been wishing to see in person for so long, in the half light of the lamppost.

The sight of him, older but just as breathtaking, hit you like a wave. The years had been kind—his features sharper, more mature, yet still carrying the mischievous charm that had drawn you in all those years ago.

Your heart started to beat hard, out of rhythm and at each moment faster than the last, as if it wanted to come out of your throat and fly towards him, to the place it was meant to be.

Another beep.

“Agent? Are you listening?”

Trembling like never before, you grabbed your radio fighting for the words to come out correctly, your eyes never leaving the little ocean on his.

“Incident controlled, sir.” the radio almost slipped out of hands as you nearly missed the pocket, your hands far from steady.

You couldn't believe it. And apparently, neither did he. You felt a tightness in your throat and it didn't take long for the tears to run down your cheeks. It was him. It was him! Right in front of you.

“Baek…” you managed to whisper, his nickname leaving your lips with a new purpose, leaving the imagined image you had of him, of the memories, of the fantasy of the reunion to be said out loud, calling out to him and him hearing you.

He nodded, slowly getting up, shaking as much as you.

“What are you doing here?” you finally managed to ask, your breath visible in the icy air.

His smile grew a fraction, shaky.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He gestured around, his hands unsteady. “Security guard, huh? Never would’ve guessed.”

You huffed a nervous laugh, the sound almost foreign to your ears, your mind still numb.

“And you? Singing in the cold? Not very smart…”

The silence between you intensified, the reality hitting harder.

Something in Baekhyun's heart seemed to come to life. And in its life, which woke up the numbness of his long-paralyzed muscles, a single, very simple movement was enough for him to realize that it still hurt as much as before.

The frigid air seemed to dry his throat as he breathed in, filling his lungs that shrank as much as his heart.

The way you said his name, your voice so familiar, exactly as he remembered it… he wanted to cry with frustration and join and heartbreak and hope. All at the same time.

So, so many questions he had for you, and you were right there to answer them. So many things to tell you about his achievements in which he had you in mind, and you were right there to hear about them. So many more of his sleepless nights and tears that he dropped for you, and you were right there to explain why you left him and stop them from flooding his eyes each time he remembered of you.

So, so many smooches and kisses and caresses his body yeargered to give to you as if it was a need for survival, and you were right there to finally get in his arms again and save him from the fight against nature.

Baekhyun collapsed right there, closing his eyes as tears cut his cheeks in wide salty rivers running to his jaw, meeting the other of their kind. Just like you two. But every drop wasn't just of happiness.

His heart beat urgently, so close to his half long ago taken away, later uncontactable, now right in front of him.

“Bambi…” He made a huge effort to get on his feet, the body running in adrenaline not obeying him immediately. He was shaking so much that he could barely wipe away the tears that had strayed into the corners of his mouth, threatening to drown him. He took a deep breath, the air choking in his throat in a loud sob.

The snow sizzled.

“Baek…” the voice he had only in memories called him again, closer. He opened his eyes at that moment. You were right there, restlessly playing with the sleeves of your blue sweater. You were not a mirage, something made up of his slightly drunk state.

And you were more beautiful than ever, time maturing the traits that he once fell in love with and that distracted him so much when he was supposed to study; the traits that made him feel like the biggest star in the music world when EXO-K concerts took place in some square at the end of the afternoon.

On impulse, his body rose and took you in his arms. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing the magnetic pull between you. His embrace was firm yet gentle, the eternity he waited to hold you finally over, and now that he had the chance of having you there, he couldn’t bear to let go.

"You're late." he whispered, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His voice was steady and hoarse, but the emotion behind it rippled like the surface of a frozen lake about to crack.

He felt your head move in a nod against his neck, the mere feel of you being enough to make him hold you tighter.

“And I know there's not enough words to apologize to you.” you whispered back, hesitant, but also seeming to have accepted the fact, defeated and hopeless. Somehow, for some reason, it made his heart tighten up even more.

“You can still try to say those that you have.” he says, his voice low and almost hesitant.

“I…” you said again, your voice trembling, a mix of hesitation and longing. It was as if you were testing the waters, as he had witnessed a few times before when you were nervous back in school days.

He swallowed hard, his heart pounding so fiercely that he thought it might escape his chest. The cold bit at his fingertips, but he barely noticed, still holding you so close to his chest, hoping it could help you speak.

For what felt like an eternity, neither of you moved. The space between you was both an ocean and a thread, fragile and binding, even so close.

A small cloud of fog left his lips.

“You grew tired of me. Because I was too blue all the time with the pressure…” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t a question; it was a realization, a truth he had given up on ever fighting back a very long time ago.

Now you knew, too.

In a sudden movement, you pulled away from him. He waited for a surprised, or at least conformed look from you. Although, you were shopping your head repeatedly.

“What? No!” your lips parting as though you wanted to say more, but no words came. Instead, you stood there, watching him back with eyes that held equal parts guilt and an almost offended look.

It didn't make sense. If not that, then what? Were there too many texts he sent? Or was it the fact that he reduced the flow of messages when he realized that you weren't replying as often as before? Were his everyday situations that uninteresting?

He raised his eyebrows, confused, in a silent request for you to speak up your mind. You, though, remained silent, your eyes dancing in a fight for words.

Baekhyun finally exhaled, his breath visible in the icy air.

“Why?” he asked, his voice rough, laced with a quiet pain. You swallow hard. “Why did you stop messaging me?” He repeated, his tone sharper, though it cracked on the second word.

You opened your mouth, but the words seemed to catch in your throat.

“I… I didn’t know how to face you.” you admitted, the vulnerability in your voice cutting through the cold. “I thought leaving was what you needed, because I could be a distraction for your work.”

He frowned.

The world around him blurred and quieted, leaving only the faint sound of your breathing.

“And I was so naive while you-”

As far as his mind could recall, all he needed was to see a good morning from you everyday, although his reply was a playful ‘having dinner already????’ everytime. All he needed was your daily journal to inspire him to work hard enough to, someday, be with you again. But somehow you decided what he needed. And you couldn't be more wrong.

“What I needed?” his voice echoed through the yard, rising slightly. He took a step forward, closing the distance you built. Metaphorically. Emotionally. How could you? “You thought I needed to spend years wondering why you disappeared? To…” He stopped himself, a hand touching his chest where his heart beat, measuring words as his eyes felt ready to tear all over again. “Do you even know what you did to me?”

The effect of his words on you were physical, the way you gasped and you flinched a little as if you had been punched in the stomach making him regret his words. Still, he was hurt too, his heart beating with ache at every second of your presence against his fingertips, through all those layers of clothing.

“I thought I was protecting you.” you said softly, your voice breaking. “And then I got into the police academy and… I dedicated myself completely to it.”

“Police academy?” he raised his eyebrow once again, his intoxicated mind making it hard to put everything together.

You nodded, closing your eyes briefly as if bracing yourself.

“I know it sounds ridiculous. Especially since I always said cops are… cocky and act like they’re better than everyone else.” A bitter laugh escaped you, and for a moment, your lips curved into a faint smile. “I still think that, by the way.”

“Then why?” he asked, his voice softer now, but no less urgent.

Your eyes met his gaze, tears stinging your eyes.

“Because I wanted to prove to my parents that I could survive on my own. That I didn’t need to be under their wing anymore, that it's okay to rely on others other than them. That I could stand on my own two feet, even when it seems dangerous.”

His chest squeezed itself strong, almost suffocating him. His expression softened, though the hurt lingered in his eyes like shadows under moonlight. The snow around you was still, muffling the world, as if nature itself held its breath.

“I thought I was doing the right thing.” you whispered.

His eyes didn't leave yours; they couldn't, at all. The weight of your words after the years of silence, the ache he had carried—it was all too heavy.

His breath formed clothes in the air, suddenly feeling less drunk, less warm.

He wanted to be angry. He was angry! Confused, hurt! But he could feel the edges of it crumbling as his eyes looked into yours, seeing the regret there, the sadness you had buried just like him coming to the surface.

“I thought of you everyday…” he admitted, his gaze never leaving your face. “Do you know that? Every day, wondering what I did wrong. If I’d said something, done something, if- if you just decided one day that I wasn’t enough.”

Your eyes widened, and you leaned on him, the snow crunching beneath your boots.

“You were never not enough.” you said, your voice breaking in a contained sob. “You were everything. That’s why I…” you swallowed hard, breath hitching. “I was scared I’d hold you back.”

He shook his head, disbelief threading through him, something vibrating within his chest.

“You didn’t even give me the chance to decide that for myself.”

“I know.” you murmured. “I was wrong. I should have… I should’ve trusted you. Trusted us.”

There was silence between you both, too lost in your own thoughts. It was too much, the alcohol leaving his system recovering the bitterness of the past and your reasoning. Nothing you could say seemed enough, but at the same time everything made sense. You both were young, trying to make good choices and get rid of being a burden on others’ lives.

“If you…” you spoke, his eyes moving back to yours, now looking directly at him. “If you let me… I want to fix this.” you said softly, your voice trembling but sure. “If you’ll let me… if you want to, for course. If you have no one else already.”

He watched the little frown form on your forehead as the words left your mouth, one similar to his, out of confusion.

His pulse was pounding in his ears, as a background noise to the battle inside him: brood a little more the hurt you’d left behind, or giving in to the longing that had never gone away, have you back in his arms and take you with him for the rest of his life.

The snow caught in your hair, on your vest and shirt, your cheeks pink from the cold, the rivers of tears frozen on the way to your chin. By the corner of his eye, he saw your hand twitch at your side, and for a moment he thought you might reach for him, too. He held a breath, expectant.

“Come home with me.” your eyes wandered across his face after a deep breath. “It’s freezing out here, and you’ve… you’ve been drinking. Let me make you some tea. We can talk better and… you know, I really want to- maybe I don't deserve it but... Please.”

The rational part of his mind screamed to walk away, to protect himself from the possibility of more hurt. You were in Zürich, and in a few days he would be leaving, repeating the whole story again. But the other part—the bigger part, the part that still loved you despite everything, the one that knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep peacefully at night knowing that he had the opportunity to talk to you, to be close to you, to solve things out but didn't take the chance—was louder.

“Okay.”

#mia's meows #baekhyun #byun baekhyun #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun x reader #exo x reader #exo baekhyun #baekyun imagines #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun fic #exo fanfic #oh snow

85 notes · View notes

yoredoesmore · 1 year ago

Note

can I request soshiro x reader where the reader gets jealous of the new recruit because she's getting to handy with soshiro?

this is my first time requesting something please don't mind my english :`)

a/n: i feel so honored writing your first request :0! thank you so much for choosing me :> and no need to apologize!!

pairing: Hoshina x Jealous!Reader

genre: jealousy/ tiny bit of angst/romance/ fluff

[wc: 1,8k ]

enjoy!

Hands Off! | Hoshina Soshiro

You and Hoshina have been dating for some time now. This was the very first relationship you have ever been in, despite your age, therefore every experience with him felt vibrant and new.

The first time you kissed, for example, was a magical moment you would never forget. A long day of battle and work was about to come to its end and you were beyond exhausted. The only thing you wished for was to rest in your bed and Soshiro was more than happy to fulfill your wish.

He had brought you home, helped you get ready for bed and stayed until you were tugged in. A sweet atmosphere lingered in the air, one that had your mind floating like a cloud. The next thing you knew, you pulled your boyfriend by the wrist, begging him to stay with you for just a little longer. Your eyes met and the tension increased in volume, pushing the both of you further together until your lips connected. It was a tender kiss, full of love and affection. The way his hands wrapped themselves around your face, holding you close in the moment of intimacy and the feeling of his moist lips on yours– it was a heavenly sensation.

That night you fully comprehended the fact that Soshiro was your man. He belonged to you and nobody else and vice versa.

After that day, every little interaction felt like a dream. Be it a simple pat on your head or holding your hands while walking through the countless isle of the grocery store– the bond between the both of you grew with every moment. Even when at work, a place where romantic relationship were prohibited from meeting the public's eye, Soshiro still managed to create beautiful moments with you.

“Soshiro..what if we get caught.” You giggled, arms wrapped around the man's shoulders. The both of you stood in the storage room, one of the only places without any cameras.

“Then they will see just how crazy you make me.” He replied and placed another kiss onto your forehead.

The Vice Captain was known for being a tease and unserious during important moments but when he was with you, Soshiro was slightly different– or better said, he showed a side which was only meant for you to see.

That is why it stung much more than it should, when you saw him interact with a new recruit.

The first time you passed him by, things seemed to be normal. He was talking to this young woman who you believed had a question for him. You were delivering an important document to Okonogi, therefore you had no time to join the conversation but once you were done with your task you immediately returned to see your boyfriend– only to be met with this horrifying view.

The woman was laughing, or at least she was pretending to. One hand was placed in front of her mouth, hiding away half of her face, while the other rested on Soshiro's shoulder. It was a seemingly harmless hand placement but as her laughing progressed, she continued to touch all over his upper arm, as if she was petting him.

And as if that wasn't weird enough, Soshiro did nothing to remove her hand from his body. He just stood there, most likely enjoying the spike in ego her attention gave him. Yet you did not blame him. Your boyfriend enjoyed a good laugh and therefore accepted anyone who was willing to laugh with him into his presence. He was simply relishing in the joy of the moment but he was so lost in the feeling that he let his guard down.

Something in your head told you to rush over there and break up whatever situation they were having but then a second thought occurred to you. This could have easily been a misunderstanding.

You joined in the middle of an interaction with no knowledge of what happened prior to this moment. The woman could have been an old friend of his or maybe she was just mesmerized by his playful attitude. Convinced that you should wait before charging head first into their conversation, you decided to lay low for now. You were standing right next to the entrance of the ceremony hall, with a great view on both individuals. Upon taking a closer look, you saw just how close the woman stood to Soshiro, yet you decided to ignore that detail. But the more you watched them, the greater the feelings of unease and jealousy grew in you.

“No, because I totally thought that you were our Captain! I mean, the way you moved in today's training, that was so impressive.”

“Ya think so? Well, thank you but I must disappoint ya. Nobody is taking Captain's Ashiro's spot, especially not someone who can't use the big weapons.”

A slight frown pulled on your lips. Soshiro sometimes undermined his own talent because he was a blade wielder. It was something that you have noticed ever since you met him but he was of course so much more than that. Could this be the reason why she was so jolly with him? Maybe the woman was giving him words of encouragement?

I knew it wasn't like that! You thought and smiled.

“Oh please! You are so strong and talented, you could take her spot with a snap of your fingers.” She playfully nudged Soshiro's shoulder as she laughed. If her playful demeanor wasn't alarming enough before, Hoshina's reaction to him being touched again was gold clear. His brows furrowed and his gaze followed the spot the cadet had touched. It was merely a slight change in expression, as Vice Captain he could not allow himself to let his emotions get the best of him after all, but to you it was evident that he was just as fed up as you.

“I'd make you Captain immediately if I could.” One of her hands suddenly moved down to his wrist.

“No matter the position, I would follow you and come wherever you want me to, Vice Captain.”

Huh!? The voice in your brain was screaming in incomprehensible volumes. That sentence on its own was already suspicious enough, the multiple layers of meaning were enough to set your brain off. But the way she reached out for his hands, catching even your boyfriend off guard, it sealed the deal.

Hoshina of course immediately pulled his hands away, confusion and a slight bit of disgust written all over his face. But before he could even say anything you were already storming over there, ready to set the woman on fire.

“Take your filthy hands off him!” Both Soshiro and the woman turned their gazes in surprise upon hearing your voice.

“And who am I lookin at now?”

Is she giving me an attitude??

“None of your goddamn business.” You positioned yourself right between your boyfriend and the new recruit, no longer allowing her to move closer to Soshiro's body. The woman eyed you up and down, unimpressed by your appearance.

“Well, I don't see much anyway.”

“Excuse you..” If a Kaiju would have seen the look in your eyes, it would have turned to stone immediately.

You were not the type of person who directed her anger towards people. When stressed or upset, you made sure to store those emotions and release them all on the battlefield. That is how most of the people who worked at the base knew you– as this quiet and collected individual. Even Soshiro mostly witnessed you in your calm state.

But that was about to change.

“The Vice Captain is cute so I don't blame you for this poor attempt of flirting. But if you ever pull this shit again, this little touchy nonsense, you better believe I'm gonna take one of his blades and– ”

“Y/n.” Your boyfriend's voice no longer reached your ears. All your attention was focused on the woman who was now showing slight signs of irritation and how you could get rid of her.

“Ha! You think I'm scared of you, old lady? Don't get your blood pressure up, I was simply talking to my Vice Captain.”

The way she said those words, combined with that disrespectful tone of hers– that woman was itching for a fight. Instead of backing off and apologizing for hitting on a taken man, she stood her ground and was now arguing with you. This kind of behavior set you off more than any of her insults.

“Cadet.” Soshiro suddenly spoke up, silencing even the tension. Both his hands suddenly wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you closer. You did not have to turn around to see the look on his eyes.

“Watch your tone around my girlfriend.”

“I-i.. girlfriend??”

“I already made a mental note to report ya behavior to the Captain. When addressing yar Superiors ya show them some respect and keep ya distance, or did ta forget? On top of that, you talked to another Superior in such disrespectful tone, a Superior who happened to be my woman– I might have ya transfer bases for this disgusting behavior.”

Your face burned with embarrassment as Soshiro demonstrated his power. He seemed more upset about the situation than you were, it was truly intimidating.

“Fucking scramble already and don't let this happen again, cadet.”

The woman's face went dry hearing his words, apologies immediately spilling from her lips. Hoshina simply dismissed her, not wanting to look into her face any longer. He has been trying to get rid of her ever since you first passed them by but she stayed persistent during all his attempts. If it hadn't been for your interruption, his only solution would have been to make a dash for it.

“Y/n, are you alright–” Soshiro looked down at you only to be met with the most adorable face he has ever seen a human make. Your eyes were slightly tearing up, but only a little, and your lips were pulled down into a frown.

“I totally let my emotions get the best of me!” you groaned as you hid your face in Soshiro's chest. The man, who was slightly surprised by the sudden change in behavior, moved his arms up to your back and pulled you closer into his embrace. His touch felt warm and gentle, as always, it calmed you right down.

“You are cute when you're jealous.” Soshiro joked, earning a long groan from your lips.

“But I feel so stupid. I know you wouldn't care about another woman, especially not some chick like her. Yet I still got upset when she touched you.”

“Which is a valid reaction, Y/n”

A soft kiss was placed on your forehead.

“I wouldn't want anyone touching you either. Heck, if I ever see someone even try getting close to you, I might have to neutralize them.”

“That's not very Vice Captain of you.” You looked up at the man and smiled. All feelings of irritation and annoyance were forgotten in the blink of an eye. Being in each other's presence had an effect on the both of you which couldn't be described by mere words. You truly belonged together, and nobody could ever make you doubt that.

“Once you get home make sure to scrub your arm thoroughly.” You joked as you exited the space.

“Was planning to, my love.” Hoshina chuckled and reached out for your hands to hold them.

#yoredoesmore #hoshina soshiro x reader #requests are open #anime fanfic #soshiro hoshina #kaiju no. 8 #x reader #i didn't know how to end the fic rip #jealousy #ignore the typos #romance

311 notes · View notes

thesoftgirlguide · 1 year ago

Text

A Soft Girl's Guide to Home Organization ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

Decluttering and creating a peaceful sanctuary in your home.

I’ve had such a stressful, depressing week and one of the things that made me feel better everyday was coming back to a neat, decluttered room. As a soft girl, you must value comfort, elegance, and serenity in all aspects of your life, including your home. A cluttered and disorganized space can be overwhelming and draining, making it challenging to relax and unwind. In today’s guide, we'll explore gentle and effective home organization and decluttering methods, tailored specifically for a girl like you.

╰┈➤ The Soft Girl’s Approach to Decluttering

🌸 It all starts with a mindful mindset. Acknowledge that decluttering is a process, and it's okay to take it one step at a time.

🌸 Focus on gentle decluttering. Prioritize items that bring joy or serve a purpose, rather than strict minimalism.

🌸 Create a soothing atmosphere: Play calming music, light candles, or diffuse essential oils to make the process enjoyable.

╰┈➤ Define Your Organization Goals

Before you begin decluttering, set clear intentions. Ask yourself:

🌸 Why do I want to organize my home? Is it for relaxation, creativity, or efficiency?

🌸 What do I like about my home’s current layout? Identify what works and what needs changing.

🌸 What are my pain points? Recognize areas that stress you out.

╰┈➤ Crafting a Master Plan

🌸 Take Inventory: List spaces that need organization (closets, kitchen, living room, etc.).

🌸 Arrange tasks based on your life—room by room or category by category.

🌸 If you can’t do it all in a day, allocate time in your schedule for dedicated organization sessions.

╰┈➤ Decluttering Room by Room

🌸 Begin with small areas: If you’re cleaning out just your room always start with your bed. Once you take care of your bed, everything else looks “wrong.” You can move on to drawer, shelf, or closet to build momentum and confidence.

🌸 Sort items into categories: Group similar items together (e.g., books, clothes, kitchen utensils).

🌸 Use the "touch once" rule: Handle each item only once to avoid repetitive decision-making.

╰┈➤ Organizing Strategies

🌸 Utilize storage containers: Choose decorative bins, baskets, and boxes that complement your home's aesthetic.

🌸 Implement the "one in, one out" policy: Maintain a balanced amount of possessions to prevent clutter buildup.

🌸 Designate a "launching pad": Create a designated spot near the entrance for keys, bags, and other essentials.

╰┈➤ Tackling Paper Clutter

🌸 Create a paper sorting station: Designate a spot for sorting mail, bills, and documents.

🌸 Digitize important documents: Scan and store papers electronically, shredding or recycling the originals. If you can’t do that, find a place a store them.

🌸 Organize digital files: Use cloud storage and clear file names to access documents effortlessly.

╰┈➤ How to Maintain Your Sanctuary

Now that you’ve cleaned out your space, you have to maintain it. To do this:

🌸 Schedule regular decluttering sessions: Set aside time each month to maintain your space.

🌸 Practice mindful consumption: Be intentional about purchases, considering whether they align with your values and needs.

🌸 Embrace the "home for everything" rule: Assign a designated spot for each item to prevent clutter accumulation.

Transforming your home into a personal sanctuary requires patience, self-care, and willingness. Remember, organization and decluttering are ongoing processes – be kind to yourself, and enjoy the journey.

313 notes · View notes

bitchesuntitled · 1 year ago

Text

When It Rains

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI, go on get! PWP, mostly porn but some plot, unprotected PIV(Don't do this IRL, be safe, make smart choices), kissing, fingering(f receiving), cream pie, flirting.

I'm trying to practice smut more, be kind. This is for @undercoverpena's April Showers prompt!

Thank you so much to @notjustjavierpena for helping me with the moodboard and the grammar stuff, @strang3lov3 for editing and leaving encouraging comments, and @beefrobeefcal for also betaing! Don't know what I would do without you lovely people! ❤️

@jay-zzle is my Spanish expert and dear friend who has helped me with a lot of my translations. Plus she's also one of the main reasons I'm trying to learn Spanish 🥰

divider by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist||AO3 Link

You’ve been assigned the stakeout with Javier Peña at a nightclub, where it’s been rumored that some of Escobar’s sicarios frequent regularly. It’s not a problem per se, but it could just be a tad distracting considering the circumstances. No one, not even Murphy, has seemed to catch wind of what has been going on between the two of you; the late-night meet-ups, the storage closet, the file room, hell - there was even one time late at night in the office the three of you share. You’re professional though, work always comes before play. That’s been the rule since the beginning.

“Looks like it’s gonna rain,” Javi comments, pushing his head to the car’s window, and looking up, “We could definitely use it.”

You hum in agreement, watching the nightclub like a hawk. As you listen to the pulsing music radiating from the club, watching people file in and out of the building, none seem to be any of Escobar’s crew just yet. The night seems to be growing darker as the clouds glide across the sky, covering the bright moon's light. Soon enough, small drops of rain begin to fall, turning into fat drops within minutes, downpour to follow.

“Fuck,” you hiss, gripping the steering wheel and peering out the dash window, “Of course.”

“Nothing wrong with some rain,” Javi smirks, looking at you.

“Except for the fact we can’t see shit!”

“Maybe we could do something else with our time?” Javi suggests, laying his arm against the back of the bench seat and scooting his hips forward to get more comfortable. His hand creeps onto your shoulder, rubbing small circles against the bare skin there, skimming past the hem of your tank top.

“Javi,” you scold, shrugging your shoulders to get your point across, “No, we’re working.”

“Can’t see shit in this rain,” Javi grumbles, crossing his arms across his chest, “Least we could have some fun.”

“Maybe it’ll die down,” you suggest, looking at him. He matches your stare with those pleading eyes of his. Those dark eyes, the way they make you want to melt every single time they land on you.

It’s been 20 minutes and the downpour hasn’t relented. After seeing how you wouldn’t be doing something else with your time like he suggested, Javi’s beginning to become restless.

“When it rains it pours, hermosa,” Javi says, grinning at you. Your pulse jumps at that word. Hermosa. He knows exactly what he’s doing. That’s how it always starts.

“Javi,” you warn, reminding him again, “We are working. You know the rules, work then play.”

He moves closer to you, leaning over to whisper in your ear, “We’ve played at work before, cariño.” Goosebumps pebble across your skin. You hope he can’t see them with how dark it is. You crane your head away from him and grab the binoculars from the dash, choosing to ignore the burning desire between your thighs. You just need to focus on work. You feel Javi lean back in the seat, his eyes boring into the side of your head. You put the binoculars against your face, grunting in annoyance when you still can’t see anything.

“Bebé,” Javier says, grabbing the binoculars from your grip, “Let’s call it night, hmm?”

He throws them into the back seat with a smirk, leaning closer to you, grabbing the back of your neck, and gently urging you toward him. His index finger sweeps against your cheek, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. He smiles warmly at you before dipping his head to meet your lips. Your hands rest against his chest, fingers fiddling with the open V of his button-up.

You moan against his mouth when he licks your bottom lip, allowing him access to slip his tongue inside. Your tongues caressing each other, your hands move to the nape of his neck. Your lips make their way to his jaw and down his neck, your teeth lightly scrape his pulse point.

“Mira que duro me pones(look how hard you make me),” Javi says, pulling you onto his lap, grinding against your center to let you feel his growing bulge. “Te deseo(want you),” he growls.

You let out a faint gasp. Javi has a firm grip on your thighs to keep you against him, one hand finding its way to your center, palm pressing firmly against your clit through the denim of your jeans. You moan against his throat at the sensation.

“Javi,” you whimper as he flicks the button of your jeans open and begins to tug on them impatiently. “Fuck, Javi. I gotta get my damn shoes off first.”

He grabs your jeans, helping you out of them after knocking your shoes off. Javi brings his hand back to your center, rubbing precise circles against your clothed clit, moving down to pull your panties aside. Javi hums, capturing your lips again, tongue tangling with yours, enjoying feeling the slick against your slit.

“So wet,” he says, teasing two thick digits against your entrance. You hum with a nod of your head, crying out when he pushes them into your wet heat.

“Javi,” you moan, putting your head into the crook of his neck, rolling your hips in time with his fingers. “Fuck.” Beginning to feel the coil in your belly tightening.

“¿Así, bebé?(just like that, baby?)” He asks, moving his thumb to massage small quick circles on your clit. You whimper his name when he curves his fingers just right, hitting that spot he knows you love. His mouth leaving open mouth kisses along your neck, reaching your pulse point he begins to suck lightly. You can feel the coil in your belly tightening more, your walls beginning to flutter against his fingers every time he hits that spot with the pads of his fingers.

“Eres mía(you’re mine),” Javi whispers against your neck.

“So close,” You whine, moving your hips faster, his fingers sinking in deeper with each roll of your hips. He moves his head from your neck to look at you, gripping the back of his neck, crashing your mouth into his. Javi moans, beginning to feel your walls clamp around his fingers. The coil in your belly snaps, shooting white-hot lightning through your entire body. Your hand pulls onto the hair at the nape of his neck, causing Javi to let out a guttural groan, pulling you back down from your high.

“Fuck me,” you sigh against his lips.

“That’s the plan, cariño(honey),” Javi smirks, kissing you again, scooting to lay his back against the seat.

Your hands slide down his chest, popping open the buttons of his shirt. You smirk, leaning into his collarbone and placing soft kisses before biting down gently.

“Fuck, bebé(baby),” Javi says sucking in a breath, moving his hands between your bodies to fumble with his belt, “Te necesito(need you)”

You lift up, swatting his hand away to work his belt and jeans open. He lifts his hips and helps you lower his jeans, his stiff member slapping against his stomach.

“Javier Peña,” you tsk, shaking your head at him, “Commando? Did you miss laundry day?”

“Knew about this assignment for weeks now. Asked to be paired up with you,” Javi smiles, wiggling his eyebrows. “Figured this would happen.”

“Oh, fuck off!” You laugh, playfully smacking his chest.

“Awe, come on now, chica sucía(dirty girl)” Javi says, placing your hands on his chest, “You know it’s—“

You grind against his cock, hands pressing firmly against his chest and he lets out a groan.

“That’s one way to get you to shut up,” you grin, slowly grinding your wetness along his shaft, the tip catching your bundle of nerves with every roll of your hips. Javi shifts up grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you to his lips in a hungry kiss. He moves his hand down to line his cock up to your entrance and you slowly sink down on it, taking it inch by inch. You're no stranger to Javi’s cock but each time feels like the first with how thick he is.

“Estás tan apretada, mi amor(you’re so tight, my love)” Javi growls, against your throat, “No pares(don’t stop)” holding onto your hips as you sink further down on him, ass cheeks finally resting on his thighs. You kiss him, both of you taking a minute to savor the feel of one another, Javi gently rubbing his fingers up and down your spine with one hand while the other holds your cheek.

“You’re so beautiful,” Javi murmurs, caressing his nose against your cheek before capturing your lips again, moaning into the kiss as you tentatively roll your hips. His hand settles on your lower back, letting you take control at a slow tempo, letting you enjoy the way his cock massages your inner walls. You moan feeling your nipples beginning to harden between your layers and his chest.

“Javi!” You gasp when he snaps his hips holding onto your lower back firmly.

“Need to see you,” Javi huffs, moving his hand from your face to your shoulder and pushing you to sit up, breath hitching as you swallow more of his length into your core. He rids you of your tank top and pushes the cups of your bra down. You begin to lightly bounce on his cock, moaning at the feel of his hands on you, fingers from one hand beginning to pinch your left nipple while his other hand slides down your ribs, gripping your waist. “Eres mía(you’re mine),” he growls. You can feel your climax nearing, your thighs beginning to shake, feeling the heat running through your body as you bounce.

“Want to take you out,” Javi grunts, your walls begin to tighten at his words, “Make sure that ev-fuck-everyone knows you’re my girl,” he rambles, gripping your waist tighter, snapping his hips into you. “Eres mía(you’re mine).”

“Javi,” you cry out, wanting all of those things and more, your walls fluttering around his shaft, “Fuck, Javi- yes, yes, yes, yes!” Your walls clamp down on him, milking his cock while your vision blurs.

“Fuck,” Javi whines, hips stuttering, emptying himself inside you. He sits up, wrapping his arms around your back to pull you closer to him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him softly, leaning your forehead against his, trying to catch your breath. Javi looks into your eyes and grins as his softening cock slips out of you.

“I’m serious, corazón,” Javi says, “Want it all.”

“Me too,” You nod, a grin stretching from ear to ear on your face.

“Peña?” You hear the radio chirp against the dash, Murphy beginning to call for you as well. “Anyone there?”

You giggle as Javi leans over, keeping a grip on you in his lap to reach the receiver. “Peña here.”

“The hell are you guys?” Murphy asks, “It’s been raining like cats and dogs for a fuckin’ hour, and no word from either of you!”

“Heading back now,” you say, shaking your head and laughing.

#UndercoverAprilShowersChallenge #pedro pascal characters #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x reader #javier peña narcos #javier pena smut #javier peña x you

197 notes · View notes

andthekitchensinkao3 · 4 months ago

Text

20 Questions with a Fanfic Author

Thanks for the tag @lavender-tea-fling :D I’m always surprised when someone tags me in these things - keep ‘em comin’!

*cracks knuckles* … *no, not really, because OW*

1. How many works on AO3?

I TOO HAVE 48 WORKS ON AO3! Find them all at this handy-dandy link: andthekitchensink

2. Total AO3 Word Count?

I’m almost embarrassed to tell. 947,443 words. How can there be almost 1 MILLION words on there?!?!?!?!

3. Top 5 Fics by Kudos (disclaimer: I loathe kudos. The hits go up, but the kudos stay at the same “Less than 10%” of hits, and even fewer people leave comments, so I’m left convinced nobody likes my stuff, or are being too polite to be mean in the comments)

Silent Treatment - Detroit: Become Human AU, in which Connor is a human, Selectively Non-Verbal, and there are no androids. Instead there’s a Nefarious Government Project having used children as lab rats. It’s basically a sci-fi thriller.

Great Pretenders - also DBH. Undercover as a Couple, Hankcon. Mutual pining, a convention dedicated to getting the most out of one’s relationship - what could possibly go wrong?

Tapestry of Time - Loki (TV) my first ever Lokius fic, full of Norse mythology. A fix-it fic set after the series finale.

Spa Day - five chapters of Hankcon smut. Gentle dom Connor, greedy sub Hank.

Metamorph - my first ever DBH fic, and also my first ever AO3 fic, uploaded back in 2018. Hankcon, set after the events of the game.

4. What fandoms do you write for?

I have written for FAKE, Yami no Matsuei, The Sentinel (TV), Star Trek: Deep Space 9, Metal Gear Solid, Harry Potter, Final Fantasy VIII, an anime style fighter game I can’t even remember the name of, Tin Man - but those aren’t on AO3. I’m not even sure I still have copies of them. Might have gotten lost in one of my computer crashes. This was before the days of cloud storage, people. Even going so far back as the days of ~dial up modems~. I also stopped writing fanfic altogether because I didn’t fit into fandom spaces, and some interactions with other fans made me think I couldn’t write for shit.

Be kind to your writers, folks. I didn’t write for ten years. Imagine the fics I could’ve written if I’d had more love from my fellow fans.

More recently, since I got my own AO3 account, I’ve written for Detroit: Become Human, Person of Interest, Loki (TV) and Dragon Age: The Veilguard.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to always respond to comments, but I have the memory of an empty fishbowl, and I work a fulltime job. So if I’m late to respond, it’s not because I don’t love your comment. It’s Life(™).

6. Angstiest Ending?

I don’t do angsty endings. I do angsty everything leading up to the end, which invariably ends on a happy note.

7. Fic with the Happiest Ending?

All of them, but I am particularly fond of the ending to A Promise Kept, my Lokius fairytale mashup set in the world of Baldur’s Gate 3.

8. Do you get hate?

So, that anime style fighting game I can’t remember the name of? The creator of Manly Guys Doing Manly Things once roasted my fic in the comments for being too stereotypical of the shounen ai genre - ie beefy boys crying, angst galore, so on. My sole claim to fandom fame, I guess. But no outright hate.

9. Do you write smut?

OH YEAH BABY

10. Do you write crossovers?

I want to, but I seldom come up with a neat way of meshing two fandoms and sets of characters together. A Promise Kept is my only finished project thus far. I do write AUs, though.

11. Ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge. Kids. Don’t steal people’s fics. Write your own.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated

Nope. I suppose I could translate one of my own into Swedish, but… I don’t see the point.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic?

I co-rp’d 200 pages worth of historical romance fanfic with a dear friend once. That was fun.

14. All time favorite ship?

Why you wanna make me choose? Come on. I will say, though, I shipped Kirk/Spock even as a kid, because they were so obviously in wub with each other and I thought they made a cute couple. Ah, Star Trek reruns back in the eighties…

15. WIPs you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have a Hankcon/Passengers (movie) AU that I’m not sure I’ll finish. But never say never. Inspiration might strike again!

16. Writing strengths?

I’ve been told I do dialogue well, and that I’m funny. IMHO I think I’m kinda good at plot twists, but I’ll let the reader be the judge of that.

17. Writing Weaknesses?

I am utterly self conscious of Telling too much, versus Showing too little. But I’m working on it.

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue?

I do it all the time, when appropriate to a character. Being bi-/multilingual myself, it’s always fun. I’m a language geek at heart.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

FAKE - the anime/manga about two cops in love.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Again with the choices, tut tut. However, I am REALLY fond of How to Create a Monster, in which Connor goes deep undercover to expose a drug kingpin preying on androids.

Tags under the cut!

@ghoulehhh @natendo-art @in-my-loki-feels @kusakichan15

@devilbearingtrouble @impulsemuppet @mirilyawrites @scifikimmi @silentxsymphony

@rin-love-is-green @confetti39x @stillwanderingflame

@insert-witty-user-name-here @blackbirdofasgard @dreamycloud @distracteddream

@mobius-m-mobius @dilfmobius @adorbspotat @lgwilt

@redheadsramblings @starfleetteddybear @mercars-musings @starrose17 @holyglassbone @genocidalfetus @wolfpup026 @elodiah @lokimobius @thosegayoldmen @kcscribbler @tinygameralec @notyourmamasdeerbat AND anyone else not mentioned 🧡💜💚

#ao3 fanfic #lokius fanfic #da veilguard fanfic #dbh fanfic #hankcon #lokius #emmrook #person of interest fanfic #reese/finch #rinch POI

25 notes · View notes

narastories · 4 months ago

Text

trying out Obsidian, my first setup, my opinions, etc.

Okay, so this is going to be a long post. Earlier this week I decided to give Obsidian a go to see if it would work for my longer writing projects. I heard some of my mutuals use it and others would like to see my setup, so I'm making a post about what I learned so far. I downloaded it three days ago so I'm sure things will change, but this is where I am right now.

I'm shy about my WIPs so what you see there is the beginning of heart worth the trouble. But hopefully, this lets you see my folder structure and the links in the notes.

My wishlist and how I got here

I recently wrote a rambly post about writing software which got way more notes than I expected (bc the lovely @barbex reblogged it <3). After I made that post, I started using Focus Writer (again a recommendation from the writing discord) for my discovery writing in March. After more than two weeks of heavy use, I realized I needed a little bit more than that (but it's a great program).

Initially, I tried combining it with Wavemaker bc I liked that when I played around with it, but that completely pissed me off, bc it turns out it's just not compatible with other things I'm using. Like Firefox. -.-

Still, this whole ordeal made me narrow down what I really want and need from a piece of writing software at this moment. I think it's a good idea to start with such a wishlist if you are looking for a new software. Here is mine:

free

no account required, not stored on someone else's cloud, I can back it up wherever I want instead

Linux support

widely compatible file formats

focus mode, where it's full-screen, and ideally highlights the paragraph you are working on

I can make it look nice and calming on the eyes currently all I want is a cream paper background look, and a friendly monospace font changed to brown or something

clicky keyboard/typewriter noises - luckily I got this covered by Mechvibes already!

something like the card feature in Wavemaker, where I can have individual notes and choose to display them on the side. this might sound like it conflicts with the focus mode but I just want to have the option to have some notes without having to vomit them into the draft

easy to rearrange the order of the scenes

wordcount obviously

Tall order? Weird order? Maybe.

I think the most important is to figure out is how you work as a writer and find tools that match that. This is just honestly what is important for me right now.

It seems like Obsidian might just do this.

it's free

doesn't require an account

text is stored locally in markdown files

works on Linux I'm using the AppImage if you want to know

can be integrated with Github for backup & sync

tons of customization options to achieve the rest of my requirements

The Basics

If you want to use Obsidian for note-taking (or for writing fic but you're not very picky about the how), you can pretty much just download it, pick a pretty theme if you want and you're good to go. It's that easy. I promise it's not as hard as people make you believe.

This is a local-first software, which I love. However, this also means if you are not used to storing your writing locally, you need to get into the habit of backing your things up because if something happens to your computer, there is no copy of your files on the web.

That said, you can pay I think 4USD/month for the subscription and then you'll have an account, and your files will get synched to other devices, and you can restore your files. (And remember, if something is free and doesn't have ads and you have cloud storage space you didn't have to pay for... then you are the product and the company is paying for it with your data. So the fact that this is paid is actually a very good thing.)

The file structure works pretty much 1:1 as your file explorer btw

If you create a folder on the sidebar, it will create a folder on your computer.

If you create a note on the sidebar, it will create a text file on your computer.

If you drag the note into the folder on the sidebar, it will put the text file in the folder on your computer.

Each note is stored as a separate markdown file. Markdown files are widely compatible with various software so that's great. Also, you can even just rename the file to have .txt extension instead of .md extension and literally every text editor will open it for you (you will lose the formatting tho). The opposite also works. If you have a note in .txt format, you can copy it into your Obsidian folder, rename the extension to .md and it will appear in Obsidian.

That all makes it very easy to import things and switch between files to edit them.

There is only one downside to this that I found. You know how in your file explorer you can drag and drop files into folders but you can't drag and drop files to change their order? Well, your Obsidian side-bar is the same. You can choose to order them based on the name, last modified, etc. But if you want custom order, I suggest you number your notes and folders.

I feel like we're not that used to this anymore but again, this is literally like a file explorer, so it's not a big deal imo.

Another important basic concept is linking your notes. You can just right-click a piece of text and link a note, drag and drop the note into your other note, or do [[Note]] whatever you like. Then you can quickly access the other note by clicking on it, or see a preview while hovering over it (If you turned that feature on). Linking notes is also how you get those cool graph views.

I just wanted to mention all of this bc I feel like all the videos I came across on Obsidian intimidate people into thinking it's more complex than that lol

Appearance

I go a little crazy about visual optimization if you give me a chance. You can change a couple of simple things out the box. Light/dark theme, change the font, etc. I'm using a font called Code Saver for the editor (regular is free for personal use).

Then, there are the themes you can download. There are so many awesome ones! I'm using one called Underwater right now bc I liked the rounded edges.

Most themes come with a light/dark version. But if you download the Style Settings plugin, you might unlock more easy-to-customize options. It depends on the theme what you see there. The one I'm using has a couple of built-in colorways. I went with the "rose pine dawn" option and then I switched out some colors in the color pickers. If you want to mess with the colors I highly recommend finding some hex color palettes online, they make your life so much easier. You can find colors that look good together and look up a color and find lighter/darker versions instead of trying to blindly click around on the color picker.

For this theme, you can also add a background image if you want. (If you really want to make it look like Focus Writer for example ;)

Plugins

These are the plugins I'm using right now.

GitHub Sync: This is what I use to sync my progress and back up my files. I started with this before anything else, but I'm not going to go into what I did bc I don't want to make this post even more complicated. If you have a specific question about it, pls feel free to ask me :)

Focus Mode: This is a full-screen mode, very nice for writing

Stille: Dims everything but the active paragraph, again, very nice for writing. I found that the combination of these two plugins work best for me, but there are others like Typewriter Mode that can do both (I couldn't turn down the vignette mode on that one tho and it was annoying me)

Smart Typography: switches the straight quotation marks for curly ones

This is how it looks with Focus Mode and Stiille both on.

And lastly, a bit of a disappointment: Longform. This is the plugin that everyone seems to recommend for longer writing projects in Obisdian. Basically what it does is it can compile your individual notes into one file, and allows you to move the order of them freely, unlike the normal Obsidian sidebar. Here is a pretty good video on it.

Unfortunately, this plugin gets absolutely wrecked by synchronizing to another device.

From what I gathered, this happens regardless of what method of synching you use, meaning it happens even with the paid synching feature. You can read about this more here btw. It's a community plugin so I'm not going to be mad at the creators for not fixing this, however this means it just doesn't work for me.

If it worked on the one computer where I originally set it up, just not on the other, I would be fine with it. But I set it up on my Linux, and after I synched to my Windows, the scene list disappeared from both. (Not the actual files! It just doesn't get recognized as a Longform project anymore so it pretty much becomes useless lol)

So, I just decided to create the the same structure with folders and notes. Right now, this is a discovery draft and I don't have chapters. But I'm making a folder for an "Arc", and put the numbered scenes into them. I'm also making separate notes that I can link with stuff I want to remember/work on.

At the moment I don't require an extensive wiki where I note what each of the characters like to have for breakfast and such. But you can absolutely do that with Obsidian. You can create a folder for Characters, Worldbuilding, whatever you want, really. Put images there, links both internal and on the web and just go wild if you want.

Obviously, without Longform I will need to compile the files into one at the end by a different method, like copy-paste into one, turn them into .txt, and concatenate from the terminal, you know, depending on your comfort level xD. It will probably include more work than with this plugin, but it's not like you don't go through your manuscript about a million times anyways, am I right?

Word Count

Lastly, mentioning the wordcount options bc they are important

there is a built-in wordcount, about which the common agreement is that it's not very good lol

because of this there is a community plugin called Better Wordcount, which is self-explanatory. If you want to get the total word count, you can right-click the top folder of your project and ask it to count the words for you.

Longform also has a wordcount and it will display it like words of the scene/total words of the project if you are using that

if you don't want to have three different word counts displayed I recommend you only have one of these active (:

That's where I am right now. If you have read all this to the end, you're awesome, and also we both should stop procrastinating and go write instead :P But if you also use Obsidian for writing and have cool tips pls let me know xx

#nara's writing diary #nara rambles about writing software again #obsidian #writing software #tech stuff #long post

25 notes · View notes

f3mme-f4tale · 11 months ago

Text

☾ bound by bloodshed ☾

part four

⇠ part three word count: 3.7k potential warnings: explicit language, mean!ellie, mild sexual content, fluff at the end?? pairing: seattle!ellie x female reader ☾ mood board authors note: this is more of a filler chapter than anything else, so i apologize. theres been a lot of changes in my life over the past few months -- so i've been trying to deal with that. regardless, i have a lot more free time now that ive graduated form college & moved (yay!), so hopefully (fingers crossed), i'll be more active on here :)

FREE FREE PALESTINE!

You kick at the dirt with the rubber sole of your shoe, feeling the grit shift beneath your feet, a tiny cloud of dust puffing up like a sigh too weary to lift off the ground. It’s the same sigh that escapes your mouth, the sound barely more than a breath of resignation. Ellie pretends not to notice – or maybe she does and just chooses to ignore it – her determined stride carrying her further ahead, her silhouette hunched slightly under the weight of the days and miles. It’s infuriating how stubborn she could be, how she can walk right past you, eyes set on the distance, as if the tension between you doesn’t hang in the air, thick and unyielding.

It’s been two days since you’ve tasted each other, two days since that frenzied collision of lips and limbs. Two days, and Ellie is still reeling in the aftermath, the memory of your shared warmth now a cold space between you. The military base should only be a few more days out, but every mile feels like it’s dragging the earth with it, the ground itself conspiring to keep you from reaching any sense of normalcy.

“Up there,” she mutters, digging around in her bag as she gestures up ahead to the remnants of an storefront – Walsh’s General written in faded ochre lettering above the door. Ellie goes to mess with the front door only to be met with an unmoving lock.

“Hold up,” you say, lightly pushing past her to kneel in front of the latch. A disordered piece of discolored metal slips from your front pocket, your fingers pushing the shiv into the lock with practiced ease. The familiar click of the tumblers falling into place is a small victory, a sound that seems to echo in the stillness of the abandoned street. You push the door open, and it creaks in protest, the wood swollen and warped from years of neglect.

Ellie steps in first, bravado always hindering, eyes scanning the dim interior. The air inside is thick and stale, filled with the scent of old dust and decaying wood. Shelves stand half-empty, their contents long since looted or ruined. A few cans of food, some faded clothing, and a scattering of other forgotten items are all that remain.

"Let's see what we can find," Ellie says, her voice low but determined. She moves deeper into the store, her movements careful and deliberate. Despite the tension between you, there's a sense of unspoken understanding; you both know what needs to be done.

You follow her lead, moving to the back of the store where a set of stairs leads to what was once an office or storage room. The floorboards groan under your weight, and you have to tread lightly to avoid falling through. Ellie remains on the ground floor, rifling through the shelves, while you ascend the creaky staircase.

At the top, you find a small room, its walls lined with dusty boxes and old papers. A single window lets in a thin beam of light, illuminating the dust particles that dance in the air. You approach the window, peering out at the deserted town beyond. Outside, the world is a tableau of decay, the buildings slumping like weary travelers, their facades peeling away in layers. A deer cautiously steps out from behind a crumbling wall, its sleek body almost ghostly in the fading light. For a moment, you watch it, captivated.

The deer suddenly freezes, its ears twitching as if it senses something you can’t see. Then, in a blur of movement, it darts back into the shadows, disappearing as quickly as it appeared. The stillness that follows is almost suffocating, and that uneasy feeling in your gut tightens once again. You turn away from the window, pushing the momentary distraction out of your mind. There's nothing to gain from dwelling on what you can't change. Instead, you focus on the task at hand; the room offers little in the way of comfort or safety, but there’s a chance it might hold something of value.

Your eyes land on a particularly large, dust-covered box in the corner. It’s sealed with old packing tape, its once vibrant logo now faded and peeling. Curiosity, or perhaps the need for something to distract you from the growing tension, drives you to your knees, your fingers carefully peeling back the brittle packing tape that holds the box closed. The box gives way with a soft crackle, revealing a jumble of items inside.

You sift through its contents, finding old rags, a few yellowed notebooks, and a tarnished ring. Nothing of immediate value, but then your fingers brush against something cool and metallic. You pull it out, revealing a small, rusted tin canister. The label is barely legible, but you recognize the symbol – it's an old military supply canister, the kind that usually held emergency rations or medical supplies.

Excitement flickers in your chest as you twist the lid open. Inside, wrapped in oilcloth, is a small stash of medical supplies – a roll of bandages, a few vials of antiseptic, and a couple of syringes. It’s not much, but in your world, it’s a treasure.

“Ellie’s going to be thrilled,” you whisper to yourself, carefully tucking the canister into your bag. A crumpled up piece of paper drops from the canister – a curious predicament.

You unfold the paper, its edges fragile, and find not just a note, but a letter that seems to have been written in a rush. The handwriting is small and neat, though the ink is slightly smudged, as if the writer’s hand had trembled. Nestled within the folds of the letter is a small, faded photograph of a man and a woman, standing close, their expressions solemn but tender. They aren’t smiling, but there’s a quiet intimacy in the way they lean into each other, a shared understanding.

Annabell, I’ve fought against everything that’s kept me from you. I tried, Annabell, I really did. But trying wasn’t enough, and that will haunt me. Of all the choices I've made, the one that keeps me awake at night is not being by your side. We were always more than just two people – more like threads spun together, impossible to separate without unraveling completely. This letter isn’t a goodbye, though I fear it feels like one. We were never ones for dramatic gestures or tearful farewells, were we? So I’ll spare you that. If you find yourself heading north, there’s a place that might offer some safety. Look for the old oak in the front – the one with the hollow trunk where we used to hide our notes when we were kids. I left something there for you. I hope you find it. I hope you make it. And if you don’t… well, if you don’t, then at least know this: Every decision I made was to try and make the world a little less cruel for you. For us. Maybe I failed, but it was never for lack of trying. If someone else finds this letter, I hope you carry it forward. Maybe it’ll mean something to someone. Maybe it won’t. I'm sorry Annabelle. Matthew.

The letter hits you with a quiet intensity, the words measured and grounded, stripped of any romanticized finality. You gently pick up the photo, studying the faces of the couple. Their faces are looking at one another, a knowing look passing between them like a punch to the gut, raw and real in a way that makes the dusty room around you seem even more desolate.

When you make your way back downstairs, Ellie looks up, her gaze curious but wary. You pull out the letter and the photograph, handing them over without a word. She doesn’t react much at first, just taking in the words and the faded image. After a moment, she hands it back, her expression a little more thoughtful than before.

“Did he make it?” she finally asks, her voice subdued.

“Doesn’t sound like it,” you reply quietly. Ellie shifts slightly, moving her weight from one foot to the other. She doesn’t meet your gaze, her eyes instead fixed on some distant point in the room, as if looking directly at you might break the fragile peace that’s settled over this moment. The tension between you has been a constant companion, a silent third party in your journey, but now it feels different, heavier, more present.

“They were holding on to something,” she says, her voice quieter than usual, almost as if she’s speaking to herself rather than to you. There’s a sadness in her tone, a kind of weariness that you recognize all too well – the exhaustion that comes not just from the miles you’ve walked or the battles you’ve fought, but from carrying the weight of memories.

“Seems like it,” you reply, slipping the letter back into your pocket. The silence stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable. Ellie’s gaze lingers on you for a second longer than usual, her eyes searching yours for something – understanding, perhaps, or maybe reassurance that the words you’ve just exchanged mean more than they seem. But before you can offer anything, before you can even think of what to say, she looks away, the moment passing like a brief pause in the rhythm of your steps. It’s a fleeting connection, a moment of vulnerability that’s here and then gone, lost in the vast expanse of everything else that remains unsaid between you.

You both know the score, the unspoken agreement that binds you – survival first, everything else second. But something has shifted in the dynamic between you, even if neither of you is quite ready to acknowledge it yet.

Then, without another word, you both move on, the creaking floorboards underfoot the only sound that accompanies you as you head toward the exit. But as the door closes behind you with a soft thud, the mood shifts, subtle at first. You can sense it before she even speaks; Ellie’s demeanor changes, her shoulders tense as her steps grow more deliberate, more forceful.

“Was that all you found?” she asks, her voice sharp and laced with impatience. The softness from just moments ago is gone, replaced by a hard edge that catches you off guard

You’re taken aback by the sudden change in tone, but you quickly shake off the surprise and respond with a controlled voice. “I mean, there were just some old rags and useless company papers up there, if that’s what you mean.”

Ellie’s eyes narrow, the frustration in her gaze intensifying. “So you didn’t actually find anything useful, then? Great. Just great.” Her tone is dismissive, almost accusatory, and it stings more than you’d care to admit. The way she says it, the implication that you’ve somehow let her down, it’s like a slap in the face after everything you’ve been through together.

You raise an eyebrow, your irritation growing. “I didn’t see you finding anything of value. Maybe you should’ve gone up there yourself if you thought it was so easy.” The sharpness in your voice reflects your own mounting frustration.

Ellie’s face flushes with a mix of embarrassment and anger. Her hands ball into fists at her sides, her posture rigid. “It’s not about the supplies,” she snaps. “It’s about you acting like you’re doing everyone a favor by finding something we already knew was probably useless.”

You throw your hands up in exasperation, your frustration boiling over. “I’m not acting like I’m doing anyone a favor. I’m just trying to make sure we’re prepared for whatever comes next. But if you’d rather sit around and wait for something to magically appear, that’s fine too.”

Ellie shakes her head vigorously, her voice rising with each word. “You know what? Maybe I would if you didn’t keep making everything so complicated. You’re always trying to prove something, and it just makes everything worse.”

“Prove something? What are you talking about?” You shoot back, your patience wearing thin. “I’m just trying to survive, same as you. If you stopped making everything a competition, we’d actually get somewhere.”

Ellie’s laugh is bitter, her frustration palpable. “God, you love to pat yourself on the back. But I guess that’s just your thing – acting like you’re the hero when you’re really just making a mess.”

You’re silent for a beat, fully taking in her jab. Is that what she really thinks of me? Sure, you had exasperated your fair share of insults; but that seemed over the line. It’s one thing to clash over strategies or tasks, but her comment feels like a personal attack.

At this point, you can feel the argument spiraling into pointless bickering, the tension in the air thick. “Fine! If it means that much to you, I’ll let you handle it. I’ll let you handle everything. I’m done trying to help. ”

Ellie scoffs, the exasperation clear in her voice. “I never asked you to.”

⭒⭒⭒⭒

Ellie and you sit on opposite sides of the campfire, the darkness amplifying the unspoken frustration that lingers between you. The day’s patrol had been grueling, and the tension between you two is nearly unbearable. Ellie glances at you from across the fire, the glow from the flames dancing eerily on her freckled face.

You chance a glance at Ellie, her lips tightly pursed, and her knuckles white as she grips the edge of the rock she's sitting on. She seems lost in her own thoughts, and it's clear that she's just as uncomfortable with the situation as you are. Ellie breaks the silence first, her voice harsh and cutting. “You know, you really have a talent for pretending everything’s fine. How do you manage it? Acting like you don’t care about anything except what’s right in front of you?”

You shoot her a sharp look, the accusation hitting hard. “Oh, don’t even start. It’s not like you’re any better. You’ve been walking around with this chip on your shoulder, acting like I’m the cause of all your problems!”

Ellie's eyes widen slightly, her grip on the rock tightening even more. Her jaw clenches as if she's holding back a flood of retorts. "Excuse me? Me? I'm the one with the chip on my shoulder? That's rich coming from you." Her voice is laced with both anger and hurt. She leans forward, the fire casting shadows across her face. "Ever since we got paired up, it's like you've been counting the days until we're done. Like I'm nothing more than a nuisance."

“And you’re just so perfect, right?” you snap back, standing up, your frustration boiling over. “You act like you’re handling it all, but you’re the one pushing everyone away because you’re scared of actually dealing with it!”

Ellie stands as well, her voice rising. “Scared? Scared of what? Dealing with your endless stream of excuses and half-assed attempts at being a decent partner? Newsflash: I’m not here to babysit your emotions!”

“You know what? Fuck you,” you shoot back, stepping closer, your anger palpable. “You’re so sick of me? Tomorrow I’ll be gone.” The argument is raw and unrelenting, every word a dagger. The emotional weight of the day, combined with the unresolved tension, erupts between you. Ellie’s frustration and your own anger collide in a chaotic, volatile mixture.

And in a moment of impulsive recklessness, Ellie grabs your collar, yanking you closer. It’s not a gentle kiss, but a clash of emotions and raw need, driven by the tension that’s been simmering for so long. You respond with equal fervor, your hands finding their way to her face, pulling her closer.

The kiss is a desperate release, a tangled knot of emotions unraveling in a moment of primal need. It’s messy, rough around the edges, but it’s also real and unfiltered. You push her back against a nearby tree, the rough bark pressing against her back as the kiss deepens. The pain blends with the heat of the moment, and despite her internal conflict, you find yourself returning the kiss. Her hands rest on your waist, unable to decide whether to push you away or pull you closer.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you manage to utter, fingers running through auburn locks. The other girl scoffs against your mouth.

"And you're just as annoying," Ellie snaps back between kisses, her fingers digging into your hips. “Insufferable... Aggravating... Impossible..." She mutters, the words lost in a clash of kisses and tongue.

“Say you need me,” you demand, holding her face. Ellie pauses, the words caught in her throat. She hesitates, her eyes locked on yours. The admission hangs in the air, caught between desire and pride. But slowly, reluctantly, she concedes. Her breath shivers slightly as she speaks.

"I need you.”

She unfastens the buttons on your shirt, one by one, her movements deliberate and filled with barely contained need. Hesitantly, you capture a stray piece of hair between your knuckles and brush it behind her ear. Ellie's attention flickers to the touch, leaning into your hand and expression softening for a moment. You swear she could feel the fast pace beat of your heart against her chest, breath hitching in your throat. You pathetically whimper as she palms your stomach, wanting nothing more in that moment for her to do inappropriate things to you in the middle of the fucking forest.

A hushed moan left Ellie as she traced patterns onto your lower abdomen, the other woman getting off on your body’s reaction. In turn, your skin felt on fire, Ellie’s touch igniting a blaze within you; as if she was the match and you were burning. Her kisses move from your mouth to your jaw, then down your neck, each one like a scorching brand against your skin.

"Ellie... you're maddening," you pant, a needy edge to your voice. "I want to strangle you... and kiss you senseless."

She drags her lips back up to yours, capturing them in a kiss that’s as much a challenge as it is a surrender. It’s rough and needy, like she’s trying to prove something, trying to make you understand just how deep you’re both in. You clutch at her shirt, desperate for something to hold onto, feeling like you might fall apart if you don’t.

But beneath the rawness, there’s a tenderness that neither of you can deny. It’s there in the way her hand trembles slightly as it trails up your side, in the way she hesitates just for a fraction of a second before deepening the kiss, as if she’s afraid of breaking something fragile between you.

There’s a softness in her eyes that wasn’t there before, a vulnerability that takes your breath away. “Don’t leave,” she says quietly, almost like a plea.

Within minutes, Ellie was on her knees.

⭒⭒⭒⭒

Ellie’s face is soft in the dim light, her features relaxed in a way that you rarely see anymore, the hard edges of survival temporarily softened by the quiet peace of the early morning. There’s a hint of a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, a subtle curve that you catch out of the corner of your eye, and you turn to her, curious.

“Hey,” she begins, her voice low, almost hesitant, as if she’s not quite sure she wants to break the spell of silence that has settled over you. “Remember that time we tried to make a treehouse out of scrap? We thought we’d live in it and everything.” Her words are light, almost playful, a stark contrast to the usual tension that accompanies your conversations, and you can’t help the smile that tugs at your own lips in response.

The memory she’s conjured is vivid, a flash of color and sound that washes over you in an instant, transporting you back to a time when things were simpler, when the weight of the world hadn’t yet settled on your shoulders. You can see it clearly in your mind’s eye – the two of you, younger, more carefree, standing in a sun-dappled clearing back in Jackson, surrounded by the scattered remains of what was supposed to be your masterpiece. The air had been thick with the scent of pine and freshly cut wood, the sound of your laughter echoing through the trees as you hammered and sawed, your hands sticky with sap and dirt.

You laugh now, shaking your head at the memory, the sound of your voice startling in the stillness of the morning. “Yeah, and we ended up with a pile of broken wood and a lot of splinters. Didn’t exactly turn out like we planned.” The words are tinged with nostalgia, a warmth that spreads through your chest as you recall the look of determination on Ellie’s face, the way her brow had furrowed in concentration as she tried to fit the mismatched pieces of wood together, her tongue poking out slightly in that way it does when she’s really focused.

Ellie’s laughter joins yours, a light, genuine sound that fills the space between you, breaking through the tension that has lingered there for so long. It’s a rare moment of levity, a brief respite from the seriousness that has come to define your lives, and you find yourself savoring it, the sound of her laughter like a balm to your weary soul.

“Yeah,” she agrees, her grin widening, her eyes bright with the memory. “But it was fun. And it was ours.” There’s a note of pride in her voice, a quiet satisfaction that comes not from the end result, but from the effort itself, from the shared experience of creating something together, no matter how imperfect.

You look at Ellie, really look at her, and in the soft light of the approaching dawn, she looks younger somehow.. There’s a lightness in her gaze, a vulnerability that she rarely allows herself to show, and it makes your heart skip a beat, a quick, fluttering sensation that catches you off guard. It’s not just the memories that have stirred something within you, not just the shared experiences that have brought you closer over the years – it’s the way she looks at you now, the way she allows herself to be open, to be seen, if only for a moment.

“Yeah,” you say softly, the word barely more than a breath. “It was.”

fic taglist: @seraphicsentences @onlinelesbo @yumimak @elliewilliamsblunt @bready101

50 notes · View notes