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foxes-that-run · 5 months

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The Prophecy

The Prophecy is about Taylor being sad to be alone, feeling like she is fated to be and pleading for it to end differently. It samples, or copies the melody of Stevie Nicks Landslide, which Harry has performed with Stevie twice, including on Taylor's birthday for the Fine Line release. Stevie also wrote a poem for TTPD.

In the Archer Taylor first touched on the idea that "All my Heroes die alone". Referring to her long love of famous couples and artists. In particular Burton and Taylor who she has likened herself and Harry to in Wildest Dreams, Ready for It, and in this record referred to again in 'Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?'. Harry has also likened them to another doomed couple of Joni Mitchell and Graham Nash in Canyon Moon. Here Taylor is pleading to have a happy ending, unlike these famous couples, similar to in Cardigan with "I knew you / Tried to change the ending / Peter losing Wendy"

Taylor also referenced the Perfect music Video in the Lyric Video. A song about ending their relationship and a song about being scared to end up alone.

Landslide

The Prophecy samples or copies the melody of Landslide. A song Stevie Nicks wrote, that established the sound of Fleetwood Mac. Stevie has said it is song was about her romance with bandmate Lindsey Buckingham and their career struggles, as well as her relationship with her business-executive father. Very similar to themes in TTPD and The Prophecy. This mash up of them is good.

Lyrics

(1, 2, 3) Hand on the throttle Thought I caught lightning in a bottle Oh, but it's gone again And it was written I got cursed like Eve got bitten Oh, was it punishment?

The count in is left in the final track, counting up and down is in many Haylor songs as lyrics

A throttle controls the air in an engine, here Taylor means she is slowing down. (In So High School's full throttle means full speed ahead, this is slowing down.

'Thought I caught lightening in the bottle, but it's gone again' is a rare feat, finding a thrilling love. There’s a connotation of wanting to hold onto and display something ephemeral. Gone again - Taylor thought had come back, but lost. (not a never eventuated love, or a long term one, but a thrilling one returned) it reminds me of:

The 1: "I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn't though"

Lighting is in 2 songs, both referring to Taylor, but also camera flashes in TIWYCF. Here the meaning is the rarest of electric loves.

Shake It Off: I never miss a beat, I’m lightning on my feet

This Is What You Came For: Baby, this is what you came for, lightning strikes every time she moves

The end of this verse is Taylor referring to a 'written' as in decided prophecy that she will end up alone. She feels cursed or that she is being punished and isn't allowed love.

Written is also a Haylor theme, and this line is reminiscent of 1D/Harry's Something Great "The script was written and I could not change a thing / I want to rip it all to shreds and start again"

Pad around when I get home I guess a lesser woman would've lost hope A greater woman wouldn't beg But I looked to the sky and said

Taylor didn't refer to 'woman' before Folklore, I think telling of maturity. As well as crushing, this lyric reminds me of Mastermind "You see, all the wisest women had to do it this way". Here Taylor sees her strength is keeping her going and willing to set aside dignity to plead for what she really.

Looked to the sky could be seen as prayer, or also clouds/sky appear in a lot of their videos. In Me! Taylor walks in clouds, Late Night Talking Harry falls from them. Story of My Life Harry says running after her is like chasing them. In Daylight Harry is climbing down from them and Lavender Haze in Eras she climbs up to them.

Please I've been on my knees Change the prophecy Don't want money Just someone who wants my company Let it once be me Who do I have to speak to About if they can redo The prophecy?

There is a thread in Taylors work of speaking about love like religion, here she is begging in much the same way she did in:

Don’t Blame Me: If you walk away I’d beg you on my knees to stay

This Love: Your smile, my ghost, I fell to my knees

The secret message of 1989's track 5, All You Had to do Was Stay was "they paid the price" which is a theme in 12 of Harry and Taylor's songs to each other. Most relevant to this lyric is MFASR on Harry's House, where Harry implored his muse to love him and not worry about their career:

Music for a Sushi Restaurant "I don't want you to get lost / I don't want you to go broke / I want you" and "I'm not going to get lost / I'm not going to go broke / Staying cool / (Know I love you, babe)"

Here Taylor is saying she doesn't want money (which she has an abundance of) she just wants someone to love her. (a gut punch indeed) It is a similar theme to But Daddy I love Him where Taylor felt she gave love up for her voice.

Cards on the table Mine play out like fools in a fable, oh It was sinking in Slow is the quicksand Poison blood from the wound of the pricked hand Oh, still I dream of him

In this verse Taylor is putting aside past pretences of being nonchalant and admitting she's stuck on a past love, trapped in a slow quicksand and cannot heal from the wound of losing them. It is densely packed with references to bear with me on this one.

Taylor has referred to hiding cards, and playing games with her muse in the past. Here she is putting them on the table and being honest. With fools (many mentions) in a fable (folklore) and a call back to Treacherous!!

Cards on the table, they were previously hidden by her or the muse in Say don't go: "I'm tryna see the cards that you won't show" (what a great call back for this song).

Slow is the quicksand, is a call back to Treacherous "And I'd be smart to walk away / But you're quicksand"

"Poison blood from the wound of the pricked hand" - what a lyric, I love it. Taylor is saying she has been wounded, she cannot heal from the loss.

Poison from a lover is in Getaway Car (He poisoned the well, I was lyin' to myself)

Blood is a Haylor theme that means a wound from love. I will go with Say Don't Go which is already this verse "Walk away and leave me bleedin', bleedin'?"

Finally hand is also a theme, with the imagery here I think she is saying her hand was wounded from holding it out. I like the prick reference which is, probably not intended, but reminds me of Kiwi "she goes home to a cactus" (a prick)

She still dreams of him, Dreams are in Wildest Dreams and Gold Rush "I can’t dare to dream about you anymore"

And I sound like an infant Feeling like the very last drops of an ink pen A greater woman stays cool But I howl like a wolf at the moon And I look unstable Gathered with a coven round a sorceress' table A greater woman has faith But even statues crumble if they're made to wait I'm so afraid I sealed my fate No sign of soulmates I'm just a paperweight In shades of greige Spending my last coin so someone will tell me It'll be ok Please

This verse is Taylor loosing hope and becoming more distraught. She refers to wolves and covens which appeared in the lyric video for out of the woods and willow respectively. She also has wolves in daylight:

Daylight “Maybe you ran with the wolves and refused to settle down”

She refers to earlier in the song where she compared herself to the idea of what a woman should do, here a greater woman would have faith. She ends with referring to other songs on the record with themes of griege and grey, describing herself as a paperweight. Although a billionaire saying her last coin is on the nose, the concept of her desperation to hear it will be ok is not.

#the prophecy #TTPD #Taylor Swift #Haylor #the tortured poets department #song analysis #Lyric analysis

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ciaomarie · 6 months

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Chapter 2: Getting to Know You

I recently wrote a post-season 2 story about Carmy helping with Sydney's apartment search. I wanted to back track a little to get into his head space just after the Friends and Family almost disaster, but prior to the apartment hunt, during which he is hopelessly crushing on Sydney. Mostly, it's backstory and gives more context to why Carmen is who he is :)

When Carmy stumbled frozen and broken out of the walk-in the night of Friends and Family, Sydney was waiting for him. However, something in his eyes made her reconsider whatever she had been planning to say. She pointed him to sit on floor against a stove she had turned on and made him hot tea. Wordlessly she sat on the floor next to him until he finished. When he tried to speak, nothing came out. His icy mottled fist began to circle his chest, but Sydney closed her hand over his.

"We'll start over again tomorrow."

Weeks later Carmen asked her why she hadn't quit that night. She said "Your face…it looked like mine did when I lost Sheridan."

In return she had asked him what happened with Claire and if it had been her fault.

"No. She thought she knew me, but she didn't and honestly, we didn't have anything in common."

The more Carm thought about Claire the sorrier he felt about how he'd behaved and the less he regretted the break-up. Claire was his high school dream girl. She was always kind to him, despite being able to mingle in nearly every clique at school. She was as comfortable with the student government club, as she was with the skaters. Everyone liked her and for no apparent reason she frequently stopped at his locker to ask if he had gum or invite him to study. So he always kept a pack of gum for her, but was too shy to join her study group. Once she and two of her friends ambushed him after school and convinced him to come to a party the night prior to graduation. He decided he might as well not end his high school career without ever having gone to one. The party was held in woods behind one of the football player's homes. There was a bonfire, cheap beer, too few cups, and couples making out or swaying to "Die in Your Arms".

Claire found a clean Solo cup and they shared a drink as she gazed into his eyes.

"I love this song"

"Yeah…it's popular".

Natalie had been playing Justin Bieber non-stop for the last few years and Carm was almost willing to give up all music if he never had to listen to him sing another note.

He didn't remember the rest of the conversation, but at some point Claire kissed him. 12 years later when they began dating she brought up the night of the party and how he looked so surprised and blushed.

"You were so cute. I bet it was your first kiss!"

"No, but almost" he said a little taken aback. As pleased as he was that Claire was interested, he felt like her project. Something about their relationship reminded him of a cheesy 80's teen movie. Too sweet. Not enough acid.

He could have saved them both a lot of trouble if he'd not given her any number, much less a fake one. But it was Claire, the brilliant, fearless, beautiful girl he'd used to sketch over and over again and she wanted HIM. He liked her so much back then. She went off to Michigan State and he began peeling mushrooms at a restaurant eventually becoming Carmen Berzatto "the most excellent CDC at the most excellent restaurant in the entire United States of America."

But before Claire, in 7th grade summer school, there was Kyla Branson. Carmy needed to take 7th grade math again before they'd pass him to 8th grade and Kyla was a transfer student. She had just finished 6th grade, and was taking 7th grade math and English early, because she was a pianist. A whole freakin' prodigy that would be touring with Eric Clapton later that fall. The math teacher had told the class, much to Kyla's obvious discomfort.

On the third day the class split into pairs to do an assignment and Carmy and Kyla were paired. He could barely look at her. Kyla had thick curly eyelashes which framed her large black brown eyes, her hair was usually brushed up into a soft coily bun like a ballerina, she wore small white diamond earrings in her shockingly small ears, and she had an heart-breakingly cute overbite that showed whenever she smiled. Carmy was gone over this little black girl. She was very shy too, but an overachiever so she persevered in making him talk enough to get the work done.

Once she saw his sketches on the back of his notebook and said he was artist. Using his best charcoal pencils he drew a portrait of her in the privacy of the attic at home. On the last day of summer school he gave it to her when class dismissed and dashed out of the room, his face redder than Heinz ketchup. Kyla caught up with him outside and grabbed his hand leading him out of the view of the car pick-up line.

"Thank you Carmen. I think you're beautiful too" Kyla whispered and kissed him full on the mouth. For three seconds. Then she ran back to the car pick up line, got into her parent's car and Carmen never saw her again.

Once he thought he saw her. The eyes and overbite were startling familiar, but the name was different. It was the day that Sydney Adamu walked into The Beef. It was the day that someone saw who he really was again.

#the bear #sydcarmy #sydney adamu #sydney x carmy #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy x sydney #carmy berzatto #syd adamu #fan fiction #fan fic

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andreafmn · 8 months

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Collision | Chapter 21

Word Count: 3.6K

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life is at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

A/N: well, after many, many months Collision is back with a chapter full of angst. Just like Speak, we are nearing the point where the Cullens come back and it will really be a battle of angst between these two stories. It's crazy how much distress I can fit into a romance story... it honestly feels more that Stephanie Meyer wrote in the actual books. 🤭🤭

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Ever since that dream, she couldn’t shake the dark cloud that was Carlisle Cullen. Wherever she went, she was reminded of him. From her job at the hospital to her studies at the university, from the books in her room to the stethoscope she wore, everything had a thread of him sewn into it. Once upon a time, she had thought she’d leave Forks in the arms of the love of her life, but she had started considering leaving because of them.

The reservation had always been home and had always welcomed her with open and warm arms. A few months before, (Y/N) would not have found it too hard to leave it all behind. She had already done it once and truly believed she could do it again. But it had been the only place that had embraced her when she had been at her lowest. Even if she had been ready to walk away from them, they had wrapped her in love and understanding. They had seen her at her lowest point and had helped her get back up.

Still, (Y/N) couldn’t shake the conversation she’d had with Bella. As time passed, she questioned more and more if she’d give Carlisle another chance if he did come back. The harrowing emptiness she felt inside was more than just losing a boyfriend. It felt like true loss. The only thing she could compare it to was the time her father had left –an event the man she had loved used as ammunition against her. But how could she deny the truth behind the statement? If Carlisle had asked her to move with them, she would have left everyone behind without another thought.

But he hadn’t. And she stayed. And life went on.

Things in La Push had shifted since the new year had started. For the better part of the first two months of the year, vampires had seemed to come back to feast on unsuspecting hikers in the colliding woods. They knew it wasn’t the Cullens, but they were a threat, nonetheless. Patrol times had doubled, tensions were high, and (Y/N) knew nothing about it.

So, when Bella had called her to see if she could join her on a hike in the woods, the older girl had no qualms in saying yes. She had the time, and it made avoiding Paul easier. Her head needed clearing, and there was nothing better than the fresh outdoors. Especially since the day seemed to finally clear up.

“Thanks for doing this with me,” Bella smiled softly as she jumped out of her truck. “I would have done it by myself, but I’m not good by myself in the woods.”

“It’s no problem,” (Y/N) responded. “I honestly needed this. Can’t spend my entire life buried in books.”

“Guess not,” the girl chuckled. “I would have called Jacob –we’ve been spending time together. But Billy said he was driving up to Port Angeles. Do you, um, know anything about that?”

“Can’t say that I do. But that doesn’t really seem unusual.”

“It’s just that he’s been avoiding me for a really long time, and I don’t really get why,” Bella said as she kickstarted their hike. She was slow with the map and the compass, slower than (Y/N) would have been. But the more time she could spend outside of the house, the better. “I mean, Billy said that he was sick, but it’s been over a week of that. And now, he’s apparently feeling better, and he still won’t talk to me.”

“I can’t help you there, Bella,” (Y/N) said, suppressing a grimace. She knew what it was that the boy was hiding from her, and she knew just how awful it felt to be on the other side of the secret. “But I’m sure things will get better soon. He’s probably just lost track of time.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Maybe.”

“Here. Why don’t I work the compass?” (Y/N) offered. “Do you have a specific spot you want to go to?”

“Oh, uh, yes,” she stammered in Bella fashion, handing over the map and pointing where she wanted to go. “It’s a meadow. Somewhere around this area.”

“Any particular reason we’re going there?”

“I don’t… it’s um…”

“Does it have anything to do with Edward?” (Y/N) softly inquired. They walked at an easy pace, stepping over rocks and fallen branches. “Is it somewhere he used to take you?”

“Yeah,” Bella admitted. “It’s a beautiful clearing. We’re not too far from there. It’s honestly stunning; covered in flowers of all colors. I couldn’t believe such a place existed until he took me there.”

“Mm, I guess finding secret places is a thing amongst the Cullen clan.”

“Did Carlisle take you somewhere like that?”

“Yeah, somewhere similar,” (Y/N) responded. “It’s actually a few miles up this river.”

“What’s it like?”

“Well, the first time he took me was by the end of August, and thankfully everything was still in bloom,” she said, smiling sadly at the memory. “There’s this beautiful wooden bridge that stands right on the boundary of Forks and the rez. Vines of flowers wrapped around the handrails, and water rushed loudly under it. The trees covered the place enough that it kept it cool but left enough light peek through to make it just bright enough. We’d meet there so many times. Mostly to talk, but there were times we just went there to hold each other and pretend we weren’t that different.”

“Have you, um… have you gone back there?” Bella asked as she slipped into a rock, holding onto (Y/N) for balance. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she chuckled. “And no. I haven’t gone back since he broke my heart and left. I’m afraid of how I will react if I do.”

Bella seemed to sit with the words before talking, a question furrowing her eyebrows long before she voiced it. After keeping quiet for a second, the girl whispered, “Can I ask you something without you thinking I’m crazy?”

“We know vampires are real,” she smiled. “There’s not much you can say that will sound crazy.”

“I see him sometimes,” Bella breathed. “In moments when I’m in danger, he appears and talks to me. And, uh, I’ve been doing some pretty reckless things in order to see him.”

“The mind is very powerful, Bella,” (Y/N) sighed. “In times of heartache, it can show us what we want in order to appease us. It’s not crazy, but I do hope you don’t do something crazy searching for him.”

“I won’t,” she chuckled dryly. “At least, I hope I don’t.”

“Then, can I ask you to promise me something?”

“Sure.”

“If you ever do feel like you’re about to do something crazy, call me.”

“I will,” the girl smiled. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

“Of course,” (Y/N) winked. “Us Cullen discards need to stick together.”

“The Cullen Discard Club,” she snickered. “I like that.”

They walked for a few more minutes before Bella recognized the path they were on, taking the lead on the hike as they neared the clearing. Her steps were lively, pulling faster than (Y/N). The Uley girl could see the excitement growing in her, a thrilling enthusiasm building the closer they got. Giddy and nervous was how she would have described Bella at that moment.

But they could not have known what they were walking into when they reached their end goal. “It’s not the same,” Bella said, disappointment dripping from her voice. “It doesn’t look the same.”

“Well, the ground is still thawing from winter, Bells. It’s gonna take time for new flowers to bloom,” (Y/N) cooed. “It doesn’t change the fact that it’s a beautiful spot. I’m sure that come springtime, it’ll be like you remembered it.”

But she didn’t hear (Y/N).

Bella was stuck inside her head, searching for something more than just flowers and grass. No. She was searching for the image of Edward. She searched for the feelings that bloomed in her chest when he was there. She looked for him in the dried grass, in the rocks and the fallen branches, and looked for him in the hard, cold dirt. But there was no danger. And no danger meant no Edward. No Edward meant the dark pit in her heart still remained empty.

Suddenly, as Bella scrambled to her feet, trying to find a way to escape the surplus of emotions, a figure caught both girls’ attention.

At the farthest corner of the clearing, a man stood motionless. As frozen as only a statue –or a vampire—could be. A flash of recognition washed over Bella’s eyes as she stared at him, excitement filling her once more.

“Laurent!” she exclaimed.

“Bella?” the man inquired, a cat-like curiosity sparkling in his eyes. “And company… I don’t believe I’ve seen you before.”

“I’m not exactly from this side of the tracks,” (Y/N) responded, tugging softly at Bella’s arm to get behind her. If the girl had been looking for danger, she had found it. “You’re not allowed into my side of town.”

“Ah, the Cullen treaty,” he said. “And I didn’t know they had another human pet. I thought you were the only one, Bella. They kept you very well hidden… I don’t believe I got your name.”

“That’s because I didn’t give it,” she said, forcing a smile. “And I would very much like to keep it to myself since I don’t plan on seeing you after this.”

“Hm, I respect that,” Laurent chuckled before turning his attention toward Bella. “I didn’t think I would see you here, Bella.”

“Well, maybe I should be saying that,” she muttered. “I do live here. And last I heard, you had gone to Alaska.”

“I did go to Alaska for some time,” he agreed. “But, it’s weird, when I found their house empty, I thought they had moved on.”

Bella’s breath seemed to hitch in her throat as she attempted to find an answer. She fished and fished but, “Oh,” was the first thing that seemed to leave her throat. (Y/N) tried to reassure her by giving the girl’s arm, but it seemed her attention was entrapped by the man before her. But finally, she managed to croak out, “They, uh, did move on.”

“And they left you both behind?” he murmured, almost like he was speaking to himself. “Hmm, interesting.”

“Do they visit often?” Laurent kept fishing, taking a tentative step forward as the girls took a step back.

Bella still seemed stuck in her head, looking off to the side of Laurent, rather than straight at him. (Y/N) was sure that the image of Edward had appeared in front of her, that somehow he was speaking to her, and all she could do was listen to him. Because to her, there would only ever be him. “Now and then,” she lied, her voice trembling slightly and rising in pitch. “Time seems longer when they’re away, but I’m sure it just feels longer for me. They can get distracted sometimes and…”

(Y/N) squeezed her arm as the girl started to babble, hoping she’d get the hint. The girl’s lying was as bad as her balance, and it was sure to get them in trouble.

“That’s odd,” he continued. “The house smelled like they’ve been gone for some time.”

“Well, they don’t really stay there anymore when they come by,” (Y/N) interjected. “We make an effort to stay other places when they visit, but they’re keeping the house for any longer stays. We’ll be sure to mention you came by the next time they’re here. But we really…”

“Probably shouldn’t mention it to… Edward,” Bella managed to add as she interrupted (Y/N)’s lie, forcing them to stay there longer and interact with the fidgety vampire. “He has such a temper… not that I have to remind you. He’s still so touchy about the whole James thing.”

“Is he?”

“Yup,” Bella affirmed, still not getting (Y/N)’s hints. The more the girl sent signals to the other, the more the Swan girl ignored. “So, how have things been in Denali? Carlisle mentioned you were staying with Tanya?”

“I like Tanya,” he grinned. “And her sister, Irina… but it’s odd staying in one place for too long, although I enjoy the novelty. The diet..? Not as much.” The smile he wore grew even bigger and more sinister. “There are times I cheat.”

“Jasper has problems with that, too,” Bella blurted.

“Is that why they left?”

“He’s actually quite careful at home,” (Y/N) interjected once more. “Hiding in plain sight just got a little hard for them. That’s why they don’t stay at the house when they visit. Too many questions.”

“Ah,” he mused. “Quite the predicament to live amongst humans.”

The glint in his eyes made (Y/N)’s mouth grow dry. She had seen that hunger painted across amber eyes months before, the night that had changed everything for both of them. It had appeared the second Bella had confirmed that the Cullens had left. They had no protection from the clan. It was open season for the two Cullen pets.

Somehow, Bella didn’t know when the moment was to keep quiet. She continued to offer information that only worked to cement the fact that the vampire clan had left them alone and had not bothered to come back. It was almost as though her self-preservation gene had died.

“Did Victoria ever find you?” Bella asked in an effort to distract him. Not that it would deter the predator from his prey.

“Yes,” he said, slightly halting in his steps. “I actually came here as a favor to her. She won’t be happy about this.”

“About what?”

“Killing you,” he grinned.

“Me?” Bella worried.

“Well, both of you. You,” he answered, pointing at (Y/N). “You were a welcome surprise. Victoria wanted to save that part for herself. Not killing our new friend here, but you, Bella. A mate for a mate—sort of poetic, no? She asked me to get the lay of the land for her, but I never thought it’d be this easy to get to you. Much less that you’d bring another one of their pets. Let me guess, you belong to Carlisle.”

(Y/N)’s reaction to his name gave the man answer enough. She flinched at the word, halting in the steps she was taking back. There was nowhere to hide, and Laurent knew it. “I supposed Victoria will be angry, all the same,” he sighed. “But I just can’t help myself. I’m so thirsty, and I can’t decide which one of you smells better.”

“They’ll know it was you,” (Y/N) said, standing her ground as she stepped protectively in front of Bella. “You won’t get away with this.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Laurent snickered. “The rain will wash away all scents. No one will find your bodies—you’ll simply go missing. Another pair of hikers in the wrong place at the wrong time. There will be no reason for Edward or Carlisle to think it was me. Especially not in regards to you, unnamed friend.”

“Please,” Bella begged. “Don’t do this.”

His expression softened at the girl, a kind smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll be quick,” he said. “You won’t feel a thing. I can promise you that. What she had in store for you… it was monstrous.”

The Uley girl couldn’t believe that was how she’d end her life. At the end of the day, she would still leave her family, with no reason or explanation. Only this time, she’d have no chance to come back. She would become collateral damage in the whirlwind that was Bella Swan, and she had stepped right in the middle willingly.

A gust of wind made the hairs on her arms stand on edge, paired with the chilling stare Laurent gave them as he inhaled their scents. “Mouthwatering.”

As he walked slowly toward them, enjoying intimidating his prey, (Y/N) turned slightly toward Bella and whispered, “He’ll attack me first, and when he does, I want you to run, Bella. No questions, no thinking. Just run towards the rez.”

“I can’t…”

“This is not up for discussion,” she said through gritted teeth. “It’ll take some time for him to drain all my blood, so you better run the fastest you ever have. Take off your backpack and run.”

The vampire’s pace increased as he bared his fangs to the girls, his stare trained on (Y/N)’s form. As Bella slowly slipped off her backpack, (Y/N) braced herself for impact. Tears burned their way down her cheeks as she mumbled a prayer to whoever was listening. She begged her mother found solace, and her brother found peace after her passing. And that somehow, the Cullens got revenge for her death. If it was her time to go, then at least she hoped it was for something.

Laurent was so close, she could feel the air from his movement, so she closed her eyes and waited. But the impact never came. As her eyelids fluttered open, she saw him paralyzed in fear, his eyes staring far into the woods. “I don’t believe it,” he said almost to himself. “It can’t be.”

He retreated from the edge of the trees as a growl echoed through the meadow, and (Y/N) finally felt like she could breathe. Sam’s wolf jumped out of the darkness, followed quickly by Jared and Paul, then Jacob and Embry, all standing just slightly to the side and behind Sam. For a split second, Paul’s wolf looked toward her, sending her a look of concern which she responded with a thankful smile.

Behind her, Bella trembled in fear, petrified in the position she was. But (Y/N) knew the last thing she needed was to see how the pack shredded Laurent to shreds. They needed to move, and they needed to move now.

“Bella, we have to go,” the girl said, placing a hand on either side of her arms. “We can’t stay here.”

“N-no… we… we can’t,” she stammered. “They’ll go after us.”

“They’re too preoccupied with Laurent. Believe me, Bella,” (Y/N) insisted, trying to break through the girl’s mental block. “We have to go. Now.”

(Y/N) took hold of Bella’s arm and dragged her to the same path they had come from as the wolves disappeared behind a retreating Laurent. The girls ran as fast as their legs could take them, weaving through the woods like they had done it a million times before. But where Bella was only begging neither Laurent nor the wolves caught up to them, (Y/N) couldn’t help but pray that the pack came back unscathed. She worried they would come back home harmed, all because the girls had been reckless.

Her lungs ached, and her legs yelled, but all she could worry about was getting back to the head of the trail they had taken. After a few minutes of running, which felt like a lifetime, they finally reached the rusty red truck that belonged to the Swan girl. They crashed onto its side, bracing their bodies as they caught their breath. Hearts were hammering, and sweat shimmered on their foreheads, but they were safe. Finally safe.

“What was that?” Bella trembled. “What the hell was that?”

“Wolves, Bella. They were just wolves.”

“But they… they only went after Laurent. One of them was so close to me I could almost touch it!”

“Let’s just be grateful they didn’t see us as a threat and went after him instead,” (Y/N) offered, giving away as little as she could. “Now, go home. Take a shower, get some rest. We’re lucky we’re alive right now.”

“You would have really sacrificed yourself for me, wouldn’t you have?” Bella asked, finally dropping the wolves. “You didn’t have to, but you were ready to protect me.”

“Yeah, I would have.”

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but why? He wanted me the most. You could have saved yourself.”

“It’s not in my nature to do that,” (Y/N) shrugged. “It was sort of an instinct to protect you. I guess, I never want to see the people I care about be harmed, much less in front of me. I knew there was a chance you could survive, and I was ready to take it.”

“Thank you, (Y/N),” the girl sniffled as she took (Y/N) in a crushing hug. “You have no idea how much that means to me. “You have no idea what that means to me.”

“Just know I’m always in your corner, Bells,” she smiled. “Whenever you need me, I’m here. We're the Cullen Discard Club. We look out for each other”

“Right. The Cullen Discard Club,” Bella chuckled softly. “I guess I better head home then. Thanks again for everything, (Y/N).”

“Don't mention it,” she replied. “Get home safe, Bells.”

“You too, (Y/N).”

The Uley girl waited until the truck disappeared down the road before running toward the Young cabin. Knowing the pack would still be taking care of things in the woods, she called out to Emily once she reached the house. Her knocks were frantic against the door, nerves overtaking her senses.

“(Y/N)?” Emily questioned as she opened the door. “What’s wrong?”

“I… uh… a vampire and Sam… and…” (Y/N) couldn’t get words out as adrenaline and worry spiked even more in her system. “They could get hurt.”

“Oh, honey, come here,” the woman said as she took the girl in her arms. “They’re gonna be okay. They’ll be home before you know it.”

“But…”

“Nope, no bad thoughts,” Emily replied softly. “Why don’t you wait for them here and I’ll fix you up something to eat in the meantime? Looks like you’ve had a bit of a rough day.”

“Alright,” (Y/N) agreed as she forced a smile. “I just hope they’re okay.”

“They will be,” she smiled, hugging (Y/N) once more. “You’ll see.”

Next ->

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miukki960 · 8 months

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Okay, so I just finished Love for Love's Sake and..... I have so many thoughts. I could wax poetic for hours about how much I loved the show, but right now what I really want to talk about is my theory on the ending and the whole concept of the "game."

Please bare with me as I don't make posts like this (or any at all for that matter) often. Please forgive me if it's incoherent, my thoughts tend to run faster than my fingers can type lol.

Here we go!

First, who is the author sunbae? I think he's the embodiment of death. When Myungha wished on the shooting star for 1. Someone to care for him and love him and 2. To disappear,he was wearing what I'm pretty sure is the same outfit as when we first see him in the bar back in episode 1. This leads me to believe Death heard his wish, so when Myungha decides to end his life and regrets his decision in the last moment, Death decides to give him a chance to change his fate.

So he creates the "game" based on a novel he supposedly wrote. I believe this is a false memory he gives to Myungha so he will willingly play the game and try to change his fate. Which leads me to my second point...

Myungha is the author. The show did a very good job at keeping this subtle at the beginning. We as an audience are led to believe he is simply transported into the videogmae world and is at the mercy of the dating sim, but they show us multiple times that that's not the case.

Once, when Myungha mentions that the missions are written in his handwriting, a second time when we get a flashback of him actually writing these missions in a notebook at the bar, and a final time when we see him pen the shows Ultimate Mission using the Author's Pen, "Please make Cha Yeowoon Happy."

I started to get the idea that Myungha was the author back in the first few episodes when we started to see the side missions. Every mission he got screamed to me "this mission is actually for you, not Yeowoon." What was the first thing he did when he was supposed to get Yeowoon more friends? He befriended Kyunghoon himself. Save 3,000,000 won? For himself. Get Yeowoon followers? Using HIS Instagram. Which leads to point number three....

The game Myungha is sent to is actually a reenactment of his senior year of high school. All the characters he meets are actual people in his earlier life, his grandma, Kyunghoon, Sangwon. But in his original "playthrough" he didn't bother to befriend or interact with them, so they went about their lives unaffected, and he forgot they existed. I say all this with the exception of Cha Yeowoon.

Cha Yeowoon is a mirrored reflection of Myungha created by Death and inserted into the game. Myungha said himself at the beginning that Yeowoon was his favorite character because he reminds him of himself. Later on, we learn that their backgrounds are almost identical too. Yeowoon lost his mother, has an absent runaway father, and was raised by his grandmother. Myungha has a dead father, absent runaway mother, and is being raised by his grandmother. So at the beginning when Death asks Myungha if he will change Yeowoon's fate and rewrite his story, he's really talking about Myungha.

Adding to this, I also noticed something rather spectacular narratively in the second half of the show. The whole show, we watched Myungha try and (mostly) succeed at making Yeowoon happy. But suddenly I realized, as we watched him get happier and happier, Myungha was falling deeper and deeper into a sadness rivaling how we saw Yeowoon in the beginning. We stopped seeing the calculations of Yeowoon's affection level, and instead saw error messages and system malfunctions, representing Myungha's emotional state.

Which begs the ultimate question on everyone's minds to be answered. If the whole point of sending Myungha back to his 19yo self and giving him Yeowoon was to get him to love himself and be happy, why were the system malfunctions so devastatingly awful and cruel? Answer: because Myungha is the author, and he's depressed and self-destructive.

He begins to feel happy with the changes he's made, he sees Yeowoon happier and he feels like he's succeeding, yet the countdown message to his death still appears. It's ominous and impending and a constant reminder that he's failing. So as the author, he tries to revert back to factory settings by getting rid of the major changes to his life, Yeowoon and his grandmother. The two people who love him most, and the two people he thinks he deserves the least.

Sangwon said it the best. Myungha's main issue is that he refuses to receive love, both from others and himself. Which is why he fails the game and dies a second time. He followed the missions for Yeowoon and refused to let them break down his own walls like they were ment to.

But Death does see the change in him through Yeowoon. Being Myungha's mirror, Yeowoon represents the change that was supposed to happen to Myungha. So when Myungha (the him he hates) deletes himself in order to make Yeowoon (the him he loves) happy ("please make Cha Yeowoon happy"), Yeowoon is able to go full-meta, breaking through the game and rewriting the mission to "Please make Tae Myungha happy."

Thus saving Myungha and allowing him a third chance at a happy life, where he receives just as much love as he gives.

Don't ask me about the "he comes back disjointed from Yeowoon's timeline" thing bc I don't understand it narratively but it sure does make for a visually pleasing ending.

#love for love's sake #love supremacy zone #text #text post #long post #kbl #korean bl #tae myung ha #cha yeowoon

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jimblejamblewritings · 9 months

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Our Violent Delights Will Not Have Violent Ends: The Twilight Saga Rewrite (Book 1, Twilight) | Part 1.

Summary: Y/N Swan is just like every other girl and she likes it that way. Normal is fantastic. Normal creates a functioning member of society. Normal is the reason she moved to a small town to live with her police officer father... only to find out that she gets the farthest thing from what she wanted. \\ This is a re-write of Twilight. Basically if I had been Stephenie Meyer and wrote Twilight. I will be combining some of the movie and book and the pace will be more like the movies. Not terribly high word count like the books. We might equal one book's word count when we finish doing all four of them. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings for the Series: light violence, light angst, light smut

Warnings for the Chapter: none

Pairing: Edward Cullen x reader, Jacob Black x reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Author's Note: If there are "I" written anywhere in the story, please let me know. I'm posting this story on Wattpad in the I form so I might forget to erase one or two here. Enjoy being casted in the feature role of Bella Swan. Let's go:

A police car pulled up in front of you as you waited outside Seattle-Tacoma International. To think, only four months ago you were trying to purchase plane tickets for spring break. Only you wanted to go to New York with the rest of your classmates. The last place you were ever thinking of was Washington. The state, not even D.C.

And more importantly not Forks, Washington. But you promised your mom that you could handle this. The only thing worse than that small town for the entire year was traveling so much you might as well be homeschooled. When your mom remarried her now husband, Phil, he played baseball for the Phoenix team.

Phil’s good but he wasn’t good enough to be traded around. You thought your whole life would be Arizona. Until Florida called. And your sweet stepfather and lovingly erratic mother packed up everything before suddenly remembering you had school. So moving to Forks had been a you decision but you're not sure how good of a decision that was.

The car in front of you rolled down its window until you could see your dad. Charlie flashed a smile that you struggled to return. He’s great. You've spent every single summer with him and almost every one of those summers was in Forks.

But two months is a lot different from the entire school year. You knew only a few people that would be going to Forks High School. A pang hit your heart when you thought about your friends again. You guys promised to call but you'd probably fall out of each other’s lives anyway. But you tried to smile once more, putting your suitcases in the back of the police car and pulling on a thick wool sweater over your shirt and overalls.

As soon as you slid into the passenger seat, it started to rain — a stark reminder that this wasn’t Phoenix.

You could feel Charlie’s head keep turning to the side to look at you. Like your dad in more ways than one, the start to small talk was awkward for you. The two of you went back and forth in a silent dance until Charlie saved you from speaking about the weather.

“Your hair has gotten longer.”

You grabbed a piece of your now shoulder length hair. Two years ago, in the spur of the moment, you had shaved your head to start over. It was the moment after that you decided you would never do that again. Charlie had to suffer the period of you not being able to look at yourself in the mirror. You looked like an egg. It took dedication but your hair was now long and damage free.

“Yeah, I’ve tried to stop using heat completely. Except the blow dryer.”

While starting small talk might have been difficult, once Charlie and you were talking no one could get you to stop. The conversation was still going as the car passed the ‘Welcome to Forks’ sign that should have read population: too damn small instead of an actual number — and even when we got out of the car and into the house. Your room wasn’t terribly different from other summers but you noticed drawers and wardrobes that weren’t there before. You guessed when one permanently moves they suddenly need storage for their things. Charlie even cleared more bathroom space.

That was probably the one thing you hated about this house. One bathroom. Someone should have slapped the architect that ever suggested this… and then slap the builder that followed through anyway.

You only unpacked the bare essentials for the next week or so. The rest could be slowly unpacked as time went on. Charlie helped for a few hours before doing his shuffle he does whenever he’s uncomfortable. All he could say was okay before leaving the room.

Even though you two can talk for hours, he’s still awkward to his core. You supposed that you should be happy as a teenager that he doesn’t hover. He never has. You used to think it was because being a cop made him busy all the time and he just developed the habit. As the years went on, it became more apparent that it was just his personality.

A car honk right outside the window caught your attention. You looked through the glass to see an orange pickup truck and some of the only two faces in town that were familiar to you. Your feet carried you out the door before you were even aware until you crashed right into a boy with hair longer than yours, roughly your height, and only a few months younger in age.

“Woah, Y/N/N, slow down before you hurt yourself. You know you can't be trusted on your own two feet. I'm surprised you're still standing right now or is it just because I'm holding you up.” Jacob said as he gave you a smile.

“Whatever, dick."

"Whoa, Y/F/N. Language when you're standing right in front of me," Dad interjected but he didn't look that offended.

"Sorry... Hi, Billy.”

“Hi, Y/N. Glad you’re back and here to stay. Charlie wouldn’t shut up about it since you told him.”

Your dad rolled his eyes. “Keep talking and I’ll roll that wheelchair right into the middle of the road.”

“Not before I ram you in the ankles.”

You and Jacob’s dads abandoned you to play fight in the road. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.

“I’m glad to see they’re still behaving like that.”

“Oh, yeah. Days go by and nothing’s different. It's getting worse with old age actually, I'm convinced that's why Mom is always on business trips… So, do you like your present?”

You turned to face Jacob. “Hmm?”

He patted the truck just as your dads came back. Your eyes went wide and your lips twitched until they formed a large smile.

“Are you serious? This is perfect! Dad, you didn’t have to get me a car.”

Charlie shrugged. “I work late sometimes and thought that your personal autonomy was very important.”

He’s trying to sound like a parent that actually read the child psychology books. The why he bought me a car didn’t matter. It was the fact that he just did. A truck didn’t exactly fit my aesthetic but something about vintage ones totally did.

"Don't worry, I worked on it myself. Everything's perfect," Jacob said.

"You did this? By yourself now? Jake, what the heck. That's crazy you're doing it on your own now. Why are you so amazing?"

Before anyone could actually answer you, you whipped open the door and sat inside. You remembered this truck very well from playing in it since you and Jake were four. Billy had this thing for at least seventeen years. The first thing you noticed were the new leather seats. They were pink instead of gray. The second thing you noticed was the engine’s sound. Smoother than it had ever sounded before.

Jacob opened the passenger door, hopping in to show you how the car operated. He was a genius at fixing cars and trucks. You wouldn’t be surprised if he owned his own mechanic shop some day.

“And that’s it.” He patted the steering wheel. “If anything breaks, let me know.”

“Thank you! God, I’m so glad I have one recognizable face at school.”

“You’ve only been missed two summers. Did you already forget I don’t go to Forks?”

“Right.”

Jake, like most of the Quileute kids, went to a high school on the reservation in La Push. People weren’t as judgmental when they all shared something common. There they could wear their hair long, tell folklore stories without getting made fun of, or try speaking little words here and there of Quileute so the language doesn’t die with their great grandparents.

All things you would have loved to be part of or just sit on the sidelines and observe. Maybe you should have complained to Charlie until you went there. Now you couldn’t leech off of Jacob and had to actually make friends on your own. Disgusting.

Your sentiments didn’t change as you got in the truck and headed to school. You were assigned a parking space the moment you transferred. Unlucky you, you were stuck in the front parking lot.

So much for leaving to go get a better lunch than whatever grub they were going to serve at the cafeteria. Charlie worked too much to even think about asking him to get you something. And you couldn’t ask him to cook either. He’s not really shit at it. It's just his taste buds suck. So unless you wanted to text him a specific lunch menu each Sunday, it was Russian Roulette of lunch. That was too much work. Charlie thinks salami and grapes belong on the same piece of Nutella and butter toast.

When you finally found the parking space, after three circles around, you turned off the engine and found a bunch of eyes greeting you. Lots of them. That’s what being the new kid in a small town gets a person. The eyes stopped staring once you got out of your truck — they needed a face to match the name Bella Swan.

“Nice ride,” a black boy in a red hoodie said as he nodded at your car.

“Thanks, just got it.”

“Cool.”

You didn’t exchange any other words before you entered the building. You stared at the paper schedule, trying to memorize classrooms and the stupid tiny map in the corner. An arm suddenly tapped your shoulder.

“You’re Y/F/N Swan, right? Our new girl.”

You turned to your right to see an Asian boy with a black polo shirt and the most emo haircut you've seen in a while. You took a double take at his outfit and then at the outfits of your peers around you. Suddenly, you were feeling terribly overdressed.

Your thrifted Burberry monogram poncho doubled as a blanket that you would inevitably need because it sat on top of a long sleeved black mini dress. Was it impractical for January in Washington? Probably. But fashion made everything work. At least you had worn snow boots.

“Yeah. It’s just Y/N by the way.”

“Just Y/N. Got it. Well, hi, I’m Eric and your eyes and ears of this place. Anything happens and I know about it. If you need a tour guide, shoulder to cry on, or lunch date then I’m your man.”

Eric made conversation naturally, no small talk in sight. Kind of like Jacob. You chuckled. “I’ll take a rain check on the lunch date but I do need to find room 33C.”

“Let me lead the way.”

He started to lead you down the hallway and to a set of stairs. “So, why move to Forks?”

“I’m not a baseball girl.”

Eric snapped his fingers. “Perfect tagline for your spread. I’m the editor-in-chief of the paper and you are front page news.”

“Oh… Just the front page right? I mean I don’t mind the paper but more than two pages and I’ll transfer.”

“Got it. Spread killed, feature only. And here’s your stop.”

“Thank you so much.”

“I’ll be back for whatever other classes you need to find.”

True to his word, Eric came back and led you to all my morning classes, including the dreaded P.E. You didn’t hate exercise. You just hated whatever wasn’t pilates or a Jane Fonda workout. Besides, you were never good at P.E. anyway. The testament to that was the gym teacher thinking you should do the volleyball exercises with some of the other girls.

You flinched as the ball came towards you. It didn’t go back over the net. Instead, it hit my calculus desk partner, Mike Newton, in the back of the head.

“Sorry!” you yelled as you sped away to hide in the locker room until lunch period.

Mike seemed to forget about it when lunch came. He talked your ear off all the way into the cafeteria. You had forgotten that a small town wouldn’t be like Phoenix. Everyone wanted to talk to the new kid. Whether they were friends or not was yet to be determined. But Mike was a gentleman. He pulled out your seat for you.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Madame.”

Eric laughed. “Mikey, glad you met my girl Y/N.”

“Oh, your girl?”

“Excuse me, my girl. We even bonded over cars,” The black boy from earlier rubbed your hair in fake affection before pulling the chair out from under Mike.

“You’re so dead, Tyler!” he yelled as they ran after him.

The two girls at your table gave a mix of a laugh and a scoff. A girl with a chunky pink headband slid over a juice carton from her tray.

“Sorry about that. It’s like kindergarten all over again, isn’t it? You’re the shiny new toy. Hi, I’m Jessica by the way.”

“Oh, almost forgot,” the other girl with glasses picks up a camera. “Smile!”

The flash blinded me for a moment. “Woah.”

“Sorry, I need some candids for the spread.”

“The spread is dead, Angela,” Eric said in an oddly defensive tone. “Don’t bring it up again… I got your back, babe.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped from your throat. Eric left, leaving you, Jessica, and Angela at the table. Angela set her camera down.

“Great, now what am I supposed to do about filling up the rest of the newspaper? I can’t do another editorial on teen drinking. It’d be the third time.”

“You could always run a psa on eating disorders,” you tried to offer an option. “Or um… padding on the swim team?”

The other girls looked at you and for a moment you thought you said something completely wrong but they began laughing. You caught bits of the conversation as you focused on my food: some of the guys bragging about their sizes that seemed totally fake, speedos fitting improperly, and wondering if they only pad for school pictures.

Going back to the conversation, a glimpse at the window caught your eye before you could speak. Five people walked like this school was a runway.

“Who are they?” you asked.

Jessica dropped her fork on her tray, ready to tell you everything. “The Cullens. Dr. and Mrs. Cullen’s foster kids.”

The names were ones you couldn't remember hearing while visiting over the summers. They were either new kids or never came around La Push. One thing you couldn’t deny was that they were all attractive. And the shorter girl had wicked fashion sense. She strutted by like the rest of them in her thin and flowy white maxi skirt with a chunky black sweater and heels entirely too high for you to ever try wearing. You felt almost entranced just looking at them.

“They’re all like together,” Jessica continued. “Rosalie, the blonde one, yeah she’s with the big one, Emmett. Like a thing.”

“Jess, they’re not actually related,” Angela quickly interjected.

“Yeah I know, but it’s still kinda weird that they live together, don’t you think? Anyway, the small dark-haired girl Alice is with Jasper. He’s the one that always looks like he’s in pain. The two blondes are actually siblings, Mrs. Cullen’s niece and nephew or something like that.”

“Dr. Cullen’s like this foster dad matchmaker.”

“Maybe, he’ll adopt me,” Angela said.

You chuckled. If Dr. Cullen was such a matchmaker then you’d have to tell Charlie goodbye.

“What about him?” you motioned to the last guy left. He walked ahead of his foster siblings like he was the leader or something.

“Edward? Totally hot, supposedly single. No one here seems good enough for him. Don’t waste your time. Like I care, just don’t waste your time.”

“Trust me, wasn’t planning on it.”

You knew that Jessica could have a skewed perspective. Maybe something happened between the two of them but Angela seemed to agree with her. This Edward probably was nothing but bad news and trouble.

You dared myself to look at their table again. Your eyes squinted when you saw their trays. Nothing looked touched. When you looked up, all five of them were staring at you. You whipped your head around and didn’t dare look back again until after lunch.

Thankfully, the classes you had right after lunch didn’t have any of them… until bio class. The teacher, Mr. Donoghue motioned for you to sit at the only empty seat that happened to be next to Edward. You nodded and began moving to the chair. A chill ran down you spine and you shivered as the chill pierced your back. Edward stiffened up at the same time.

You scowled as he held his hand over his mouth and nose. You had taken a shower, put on nice perfume, lotioned, and wore nice jewelry. There was absolutely no way you smelled. His hand stayed over the lower part of his face the entire class period. Even when he had to hand over material, he pushed them to you with a pencil. The moment the bell rang, Edward was gone. Good riddance.

Mr. Donoghue signed the last spot in my slip saying you made it to class successfully and now you could give it to the receptionist. You paused in the doorway after seeing someone’s back but it was too late. The receptionist had seen you.

“Just a moment, dear.”

The person with the back turned around to reveal a troubled face. He grabbed his coat. “Never mind, I’ll just have to endure it.”

You rolled your eyes, handed in you slip and went to your truck. Edward was a total douche. Yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that we’d be seeing each other more often than you’d like. Probably more often than he’d like as well.

Charlie wasn’t finished working when school was over but had enough time for a dinner break. His friend, Waylan, brought takeout from Subway. You didn’t remember Waylan very well. He left for most of the summer each year to visit his kids and grandkids that left Washington. You all moved stuff around on Charlie’s desk to clear space so you could eat. You had a Spicy Italian sub while the two of them ate BLTs. The two of them shared a different sentiment about the Cullens when you asked them.

Unlike the kids at school, they had nothing but praise. The Cullens weren’t weird but mature and well-rounded teenagers. And Dr. Cullen was the best surgeon they’ve had… and he stayed past one year which is an accomplishment. Certain jobs like doctors and lawyers always come from out of town. Most leave after one or two years, not able to handle the slow pace of this green and gray town.

Soon, Charlie and Waylan talked in the most stereotypical old man fashion that you had actually checked out of the conversation. Your cellphone rang as you grabbed a potato chip from the small bag that came with your sandwich.

“That’s Mom, I’m gonna take this.”

“Tell your mom I said hi, Y/N/N.”

You nodded as you walked away.

The next day at school, Edward wasn’t there. You had planned to confront him and find out what his problem was when he didn’t even know you. You weren't exactly popular back in Phoenix but no one had any issues with you. Never.

However, his siblings were there. Not that you were going to approach them. Your problem was their brother not them and you weren't trying to make enemies in such a small town. You watched them walk into the building as you leaned against your truck. You turned when something hit your back.

“Y/N!”

You laughed as you looked at the Twizzler on the ground. “Seriously, Tyler? How dare you waste good food,” you said as you grabbed your bag and walked over to where the kids you met yesterday were all crowded around what you assumed was Tyler’s van.

He shrugged. “I would hardly call Twizzlers the peak of fine dining.”

We all walked inside at the start of a bell ringing. The day had been pleasant without your science partner. And the next day was the same when he didn’t show up again. And the next day until the entire week had gone by without Edward showing his face.

Your first week of school was lucky. You had missed any torrential rain. But you couldn’t say the same for that Monday. The only thing worse than rain was rain when it was below freezing outside. Your front steps were covered in ice. Your phone rang as you closed the house door.

"Hey, Jake... First week done, somewhat a success. Hey, when is Spring Break for you guys? We should totally start coordinating now if we want to try and leave town."

Despite being careful as you talked, you must have stepped incorrectly because before you knew it, your butt had gone down the last three concrete steps leading away from your door and to your driveway.

“Woah, woah, Y/N/N. Are you okay?” Charlie asked as he helped you up.

“Yeah, just fine, Dad. Ice isn’t exactly helpful to the severely uncoordinated.”

“That’s why I got new tires for you. The old ones were getting pretty bald.”

“Thank you.”

You both high-fived before getting into your respective cars and leaving. It felt like you were already used to the routine of Forks when you pulled into your parking spot and found yourself automatically going to Tyler’s van. You sat with Jessica, Angela, Eric, or Mike whenever you had class and swapped snacks with Tyler in between every morning class because your lockers were right next to each other. And the group always walked to lunch together.

“Salad or Sandwich… Hello? Earth to Y/N?”

You blinked to see Jess snapping her fingers in front of you. “Sorry.”

“We wanted to know what you wanted? The lines are backing up so we’re splitting up and tackling stations.”

“Nice, divide and conquer the cafeteria.”

“The Vikings got nothing on us.”

“As long as the only thing we’re conquering and pillaging are those sandwiches.”

“Absolutely. They might have had great hair but I'm not interested. So, ham and cheese, turkey, or those stupid cucumber ones that no one likes?”

“Hey, I like them!”

Jess laughed and walked to her designated line. Mike and you were in charge of gathering everyone’s desserts and soups. Three wanted brownies and three wanted chocolate chip cookies, four wanted tomato soup and two wanted chicken noodle. You all wanted saltine crackers. Every now and then, you looked over your shoulder at what made you stop in you tracks. Edward was back.

And your biology class was the first class after lunch.

(part 2) ...

THIS FIC TAGLIST:

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107 @i-have-no-life-charlie

#twilight fic #twilight #bella swan #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen x black!reader #edward cullen #jacob black x reader #wolf pack

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starstruck-cupid · 1 year

Text

The Sweater

Part 3 of untitled Charlie fic. Please help me name it.

( part one, part two )

(edit: name change. Formerly unnamed)

A/N: I'm very tired so this might not be my best work. I really appreciate all of the support! It means a lot that people are enjoying what I've written. I hope everyone is well and enjoys this story. I know it's going slow now, but it'll speed up soon.

TW: use of the word god (once?), mentions of stalking, mentions of absent parents, mentions of panic attack, mentions of passing out, possible insinuations of being drugged, reader being forced to drink water

//////////////////////////////////////<3///////////////////////////////////////////

"What the fuck?" I whispered in a dumbfounded manner.

After blankly staring at my phone for a minute, letting the video reply over and over, I look at Charlie. He's asleep. I'm not sure when he fell asleep, but he's out cold.

I shouldn't tell him. He's going through enough. It was probably some stupid joke. Putting my phone down, I turn my attention back to the movie. Past me was smart for picking something long. I run my hands through Charlie's hair in a failed attempt to calm myself. I couldn't shake the stiffness of my muscles.

Today was Sunday. Tomorrow I'd be back at school, and I could fully ignore this incident.

After a few hours of snoring and staring at a sleeping Charlie, the charming boy finally woke up. Slowly looking up at me, Charlie noticed my thoughtful face.

"What's wrong?" concern bled out of his voice.

"Nothing," I said, knowing he would see right past my lie.

"You know you can tell me anyone, right, bunny?" He knew that I would tell him anything after hearing that name.

It always reminds me of the first time Charlie and I actually talked. I was too high to remember if I was wearing a full costume or not, but on the top of my head sat a pair of black bunny ears. That was the first thing Charlie pointed out when we were left alone, and it's stuck with him for the last 3 years.

"Can you stay the night? I'm afraid to be alone." I anxiously asked.

"Too many horror movies?" He knew that wasn't the case, but he was too nice to make that knowledge known. "Let me go home and grab some stuff."

As he slides out of the bathroom window, my anxiety rises again. With no one else in the house for a while, I was afraid the unknown person would come back. I was used to being alone. My dad was always gone, trying his best to keep money coming. I love him, but the feeling of isolation was one I was far too used to. Charlie was the only help.

I need a bath. No, wait. I crave a bath. I go to grab clothes, settling on a random horror movie t-shirt, a flannel, and a pair of pajama shorts. So Charlie knows I'm bathing; I open the bedroom window and I close the bathroom window. Usually, once I was in, we'd open the door and we'd continue our conversation, but with the recent state of him and Kirby, I decided he probably needed a small break from me. Before shutting the bathroom door, I quickly wrote a note stating that I was indecent.

Turning the lights off, lighting the candles, and running the water, I was finally able to relax for the first time all day.

My phone started ringing.

At first, I ignored it. If it was anything important, they could call the landline. The people closest to me know I hate phone calls, so they won't call.

Immediately, I hear it ring again. Getting out of the tub with a sigh, I quickly wrapped my towel around myself and walking into my bedroom.

Begrudgingly, I answer "Hello?"

A deep, robotic voice replied, "Hello." Something about it was familiar.

"Who is this? Can I help you?"

"You know who it is." I heard a blunt, almost threatening reply.

"No, I don't."

"You sure about that? Aren't you supposed to be a movie buff?"

"I guess," I sourly replied in confusion.

"Don't you know the movie Stab?" That's when it clicked. This is the Ghostface voice.

"This isn't funny." Are you the same person who sent that video? I could have you arrested!" I angrily replied to the prankster.

"The people you surround yourself with won't make it much longer." There was a pause. "You, though? I'd like to keep you around for a bit." Then he hung up.

Suddenly, everything felt cold and hot at the same time. I felt exposed, uncomfortable in my own skin. I can't breathe. Why can't I breathe? Everything feels so far away.

Attempting to make it to my bed, I fell. As I fell, trying to grasp whatever was around me, I hit my side. Still sore from falling the previous night, I hissed in pain. Everything hurts. Where is Charlie? He could fix this. I can't move. Why can't I move?

I hear Charlie come in soon after. I could tell because he shut the window, which had been squeaking recently. As soon as he realizes I'm on the floor, he runs to me, forcing me to take sips of the water he brought.

Then everything went black.

Fluttering my eyes open, everything feels so weird. Like I snorted a line of melatonin. God, what time is it? Finally regaining my vision, I look at my clock. 10 pm. How long was I out for? When did I get dressed? I can hear the shower.

Slowly getting up, I shuffle to the door and knock. The shower promptly shuts off. I hear shuffling. Soon enough, Charlie opens the door, only wearing a towel, loosely tied around his waist.

"I'm sorry," I shot out quickly but quietly.

Charlie doesn't say anything. He just hugs me. Charlie, hugging me, in only a towel. What I'm feeling right now seems so foreign to me. Sure, I've felt this way before, but not about Charlie. Never Charlie.

Realizing I'm not hugging back, Charlie, with his hand on my cheek and thumb on my chin, he pushes my face up a bit to look at his.

"Are you okay?" a concerned tone echoing through my ears. I didn't want to tell him. It was just a stupid joke. There's nothing to concern him about.

Instead of telling him, I just nodded. Unable to let out a sound. I didn't want to lie. I couldn't lie to him. I was fine now, so it wasn't a lie.

He silently points to the bed. Understating what he meant, I shuffle over. Pulling the blankets back, I slide under. I need this. Charlie, still in only a towel, walks to my stack of DVDs. Quickly grabbing the first Stab movie, he puts it in and beelines to the bathroom to get dressed, leaving the door open.

I did not want to watch this. I couldn't tell Charlie that.

After some shuffling from the bathroom and the sound of the movie ringing out, I finally closed my eyes. I am safe. Charlie wouldn't ever let something happen to me. As I near sleep, I hear him attempting to silently walk to my bed. As the sound got closer, I felt the bed dip behind me.

Charlie and I always shared, usually ending up snuggled together. After a while, we just gave up on keeping space between us.

I felt his arm slip under mine and wrap around my waist. For the first time, I don't have to convince myself that I am safe. I can feel it.

I wanted this every night.

#charlie walker #charlie walker x reader

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one-piece-aus · 11 months

Text

Whumptober Day 17

Kid x Reader

Ahoy! Remember that angsty Kid story I wrote last year for Whumptober? I saw you guys wanted a sequel so I decided to write the prequel to that from Kid's POV! (I do have the idea of making this a series but I need more motivation) Anyway, if you can read the other part to this HERE

Enjoy the story! ^-^

"Kid, you've been acting different lately," Killer said as he stood beside his friend.

"You don't have to remind me," Kid growled, shifting his stance while keeping his arms folded as he leaned against the school's gate. His eyes were fixated on a group of friends walking by... no, he's only looking at one person, you.

"It's the girl, isn't it?" Killer stated, following Kid's gaze.

Kid grumbled in response and averted his eyes from the group to glare at the ground. Even with you out of sight, you weren't out of his mind. You haunted his mind and wouldn't leave, ironic because you didn't exist to him before Ms. Makino paired the two of you for an English project this year.

"When are you gonna tell her?" Killer asks turning back to the redhead.

"I don't plan to."

"Why not? She gets along with us just fine," Killer pointed out, which is seen as a good sign in the Kid Gang since most of the girls who try to run after them have a distaste for most of their members.

"She's probably already dating that goth freak."

"Who is?"

Kid and Killer turn to see Law approaching them.

"Fuck off Trafalgar!"

"I came to ask a favour, I thought I was going look for a way to bargain but it looks like you need information." Law smirks.

Killer glances at Kid who is already growling at Law, "Kid, if you don't want to ask her directly to find out, this is the next best thing."

"I know," Kid growls, loathing at the thought of asking Law for something. "Fine! Do you know if [Y/n] is with that freak Hawkins?"

Law shook his head. "I've seen Basil hang around [Y/n] but he's not dating anyone. He says romance is nothing but delusions and a distraction in high school, maybe you should heed his words Eustass."

"I don't ask for your opinion Trafalgar!" Kid flipped him off.

"Well you did ask for information, and now you gotta pay up."

"Like hell I will after-"

"Do you know if [Y/n] is with anyone?" Killer asked for Kid, figuring if they get more info Kid will help Law without a fuss.

"I don't, but if anyone in this school would know, it's probably Basil," Law shrugs. "He knows her the most, probably the only one who knows her. Not even Strawhat or his friends know about her, and that's hard to find these days."

"I know her."

"Sure you do Eustass, but I suggest talking to Basil."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You wish to know if [Y/n] is single?" Hawkins questioned, closing his locker door and turning to Kid.

"That's what I just asked."

"May I inquire why?"

"I just want to know," Kid told him, folding his arms.

"To answer your question, no, she is not with anyone at the moment," Hawkins stated. "However, if you're wanting to pursue her, I would advise against that."

"Let hell you'll stop me!" Kid shouted, side-punching the locker beside him.

"I'm not saying I will," Hawkins said. "But I think you should reconsider."

"What do you mean?" Kid asked narrowing his eyes at the blond.

"Knowing [Y/n]'s past, it's clear that you're not suited for her."

"And what? You are!?"

"No, our relationship is as she once stated 'loners who stick together', but you, on the other hand, are a bit more complicated now that you've developed feelings for her."

"That's none of your business!"

"Perhaps not, but it is [Y/n]'s business and as someone who has known [Y/n] for quite some time now, I can't help but be concerned about her well-being," Hawkins states while maintaining eye contact with Kid. When the redhead doesn't respond, Hawkins walks past him to go to his club when he stops. "There's more to [Y/n] that you haven't seen. If you're serious about this, I suggest you find out before you go any further."

Kid stood there, hearing Hawkins' footsteps echo further down the hall.

Did he really not know you? Sure, Kid might not know your childhood or the other schools you went to, but he didn't think that'd be a big deal. He hasn't been to your house yet either but most families wouldn't want a member of a gang in their house... No, that's not an excuse. If he's going to get to know this side he hasn't seen, he has to set that aside.

Kid decided that the next time he sees you he'll take you around town to see if he could take a step closer to knowing you. At least, that's what he wanted to do, but you were making it hard to do.

You no longer stayed in your shared English class, always asking to study somewhere else. He never saw you in the halls, not even when Hawkins walked by. You were nowhere to be found at lunch, and if you were in a club at the end of the day, Kid didn't see you in there because he checked every club meeting to find you.

Two weeks passed since this started, and Kid normally didn't like assuming these kinds of things, at least not when it comes to his friends, yet his mind couldn't stop whispering this thought to him.

You were avoiding him.

Tag: @gnarlycrys @roseoftrafalgar @bookandyarndragon

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agentwhiskeysdarlin · 1 year

Text

Fooled Around and Fell In Love

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x F!Reader

Rating: NSFW 18+ (minors dni)

Warnings: mostly done in Jack’s pov with one switch to reader’s for a short time, mentions of death and funeral setting briefly, bar setting, alcohol consumption, (y/n) mentioned once, heavy make out session, smutty good times, oral (female & male receiving), p in v sex, the fluff is ridiculous topped off with the cutest ending I’ve ever written

Word Count: 3.4k

Author’s Notes: I honestly have had this fic sitting for weeks and completely forgot about it. Oops. This idea has been in my head for at least a year and I finally did it. This was also the first timeI wrote a lot in Jack’s pov which was a lot of fun. I’m probably not going to have anything else until kinktober 👀 Thank you as always to @clint-aww-no-barton and I hope you all enjoy! Also if you have never heard the song played in the fic go give it a listen!! Fooled Around and Fell In Love by Elvin Bishop

ao3 link

Jack Daniels had only been in love once in his life. She’d been his high school sweetheart. He never did figure out how he’d won her heart, but he had. They were going to get married and she’d been pregnant, a baby boy. Then it was all ripped away from him. He’d stood in the cemetery and watched them lower her into the ground along with his heart. Buried six feet under. He swore that day, when he turned his back to her grave, that he was also turning his back on love. He was done with the silly four letter word, that meant nothing but heartbreak. It was hard at first especially seeing his parents, knowing their story. It was a beautiful one, one people wrote books about but Jack just supposed that life wasn’t for him.

He fooled around of course. He still found women ridiculously attractive, and sometimes it was just too hard not to try and charm his way in. He would flirt until he found the perfect girl, who just wanted a little fun for the night. By the morning he was long gone. It got lonely sometimes, but when it did Jack would imagine himself right back at that grave. It was a reminder to not get attached, not to fall in love. He couldn’t do that again. He wouldn’t live through it a second time.

He sat now at a local, small town bar, which had pulled in a crowd not long after he’d arrived. He was nursing his second whiskey, turned around on his barstool watching the crowd as it grew. This was his usual Friday night routine, when he wasn’t working. He would come here and wait for the ideal woman and then make his move. Tonight was busier than usual which, Jack didn’t mind at all. The bit of sunlight remaining suddenly broke through the dim lighting, and Jack turned his head to see who was walking in. That’s when his eyes fell on you.

*Your POV*

You couldn’t believe your best friend had dragged you here. Actually you could. She was strong willed, and didn’t take no for an answer much. You’d rather be sitting at home, binge watching a show and eating your weight in ice cream.

“Oh come on. Let’s get you drunk and laid.” Your best friend looped her arm within yours.

“I’m not the one getting over a dick of an ex. I’ll pass.”

“You still need to get laid honey. You’re too cranky.”

“I am not! I’m perfectly fine. Plus there’s not a single guy in here who would look twice at me.”

“Tell that to Burt Reynolds sitting at the bar.”

You glanced over and sure enough, a man who looked like a younger version of Bandit himself, had his brown eyes on you. You felt your face heat as you turned away.

“He’s probably looking at you.”

“Oh honey. He’s not looking at me. Come on, let’s get a booth and I’ll get our first round.”

You rolled your eyes but let her drag you along to a booth. This was going to be a long night.

*Jack’s POV*

Jack watched you, as your friend dragged you to a booth reluctantly. You were beautiful. Honestly one of the most beautiful women he’d ever laid eyes on. Something about the fact that you obviously didn’t want to be here, just piqued his interest even more. A little more liquid courage and he would go make his move. He watched your friend walk over, confidence so clear on her face. She leaned on the bar calling out to the bartender, placing her order. Two whiskey’s on the rocks. Then she turned to Jack.

“Hey tell me, where you looking at me or my gorgeous friend over there when we walked in?”

“No offense against you darlin’ but definitely your friend.”

“Oh no offense taken. You’re definitely her type. I just wanted to prove that I was right.”

She grabbed her drinks and Jack smirked.

“I’ll add more to your case here in just a minute.”

“You better be nice to her. I have a black belt and I’ll kick your ass.”

“I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

Jack chuckled at your friend’s protectiveness over you. It just made him wonder more about you. Jack realized then, that this was the first time he wanted to actually get to know a woman in a long time. He pushed it away, trying to focus on just getting you in bed, before he downed the rest of his drink and got up. He weaved through the crowd, keeping his eyes on you. Your friend said something to you and you turned, your eyes growing wide before you spun back around, your face turning red. Jack couldn’t help but to think it was cute. Luckily you had just finished your drink, and it gave him the perfect excuse to speak to you.

“Can I buy you ladies another round?” He spoke as he leaned on the table.

“You can buy her another round,” your friend spoke and Jack smirked as his eyes went from her to you.

“Uh yeah. Yeah I’ll take another…”

“Whiskey on the rocks?”

“Um…yeah,” you spoke slowly your eyebrow knitting together in confusion.

“I’ll be right back.” Jack smacked the table before turning away.

He ordered two drinks for you and himself before making his way back over.

“May I join you?”

“By all means.” This time you spoke and slid over, making room for him.

“Names Jack. I’ve seemed to have forgotten my manners.”

“Oh (Y/N),” you spoke giving him a shy smile.

Your friend introduced herself, and then her eyes darted to someone in the crowd and gave a flirty wave. She excused herself, your eyes burning a hole in her as she went. Jack moved to the other side so he was facing you.

“I see you were dragged here against your will.” Jack spoke and you pinched your nose between two of your fingers.

“What gave it away?” The way you looked at him was full of embarrassment, but a smile still pulled at your lips.

“A guy just knows,” Jack smirked as he leaned back, his arm draping across the back of his seat. “Not your usual scene then?”

“Not really. I went through a very small stage where it was, but it didn’t last long. It ended in heartbreak so I’m safer at home in front of my tv.”

“Ah come on. You gotta have fun every once in awhile.”

“I guess I’ve had all my fun.”

Jack felt his stomach sink slightly but he’d dealt with this before.

“Oh sugar I promise you haven’t.”

“What makes you say that?” You raised a brow, challenge in your voice.

“Because you haven’t been with me yet.”

“You sure are confident,” you chuckled lightly.

“That I am. I ain’t ashamed of it.”

“Definitely nothing to be ashamed of. I wish I had an ounce of it.”

“You should. You’re a beautiful woman.”

You looked down at the table your face once again red.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“It’s just…I don’t have the best record so…” your voice trailed off and Jack felt his heart clench.

He wanted to make you feel like the most beautiful woman on earth. He wanted you to believe it. It was now a mission of his, and he never left a mission unsuccessful. Jack slid out of his seat, and he watch your face fall slightly.

“May I pull you to the dance floor sugar?” He reached his hand out and he saw a smile pull at your lips.

“Yes you may.” You grabbed his hand, and he pulled you out of the booth and out onto the dance floor.

A fast pace song was playing at the moment, so Jack spun you around and the two of you joined in on a little line dancing, before the song shifted to something slower. Jack pulled you close, his hands on your hips and yours wrapped around his neck. He watched you look around the bar, and he knew you were trying not to meet his eyes. He reached up and his finger brushed at your chin, moving your head until your eyes met his. You looked over his face, your eyes stopping briefly at his lips. He quirked an eyebrow and you gave him a soft nod. Jack dipped his head and his lips met yours. The entire world disappeared. It was just you and Jack. He felt something shoot through him, and it only made him kiss you deeper. He felt your fingers lace in the hair at the nape of his neck. You kissed him back with equal fever, and it made Jack wonder if you had felt the same as him. He never wanted to stop kissing you. He could stand here until the day he died, attached to your lips. He had to get you out of here, now. He pulled away and looked down at you. You were panting and searching his eyes. He could tell you were having a battle with yourself. You pulled him down, your lips brushing at his ear and pulling a shiver through him.

“Take me home Jack,” your words were intoxicating and Jack gulped before nodding.

You pulled him along to tell your friend where you were going. He could only let out a soft chuckle at the high five the two of you shared, before you all but pulled him out the door. Jack took the initiative then, and pulled you to his car. He opened the door for you and you slid in. He was quick to round the front and climb in, buckling and driving off. There was a comfortable silence, full of the tension that hung between you and Jack, as he drove as fast as he could without breaking the law. Your knee bounced rapidly, and Jack knew you were probably feeling the same excitement he was.

Jack noticed far too late that he’d pulled into his driveway. He hadn’t even thought to ask you where you lived. He’d just driven straight here. Another sign he was off his usual game. Deep down, he already knew why. He shook his head slightly trying to clear his thoughts, to focus. The two of you filed out of his car, and he was quick getting the front door open. As he shut it, he moved to cage you between him and it. You were both panting, and he smirked, before he was kissing you again. Damn your lips, your kiss could make him drunk like he had several bottles of whiskey. You moaned against his lips and he shuddered. Your hands traveled over his shirt, and soon he felt his jacket fall to the ground. He was quick to get rid of yours, before he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. One hand stayed secured around you, flat against your back, while the other traveled down to your ass. He gave you a quick squeeze, and with a gasp against his lips, you jumped circling your legs around his waist.

The two of you stayed there for several moments, never coming up for air, you pressed between the door and Jack. He let out a breath through his nose, and pulled away reluctantly. Your eyes fluttered opened and you panted. Jack’s breathing was rapid as well, and he gazed at you.

“Please tell me you want to,” his voice betrayed him as it came out slightly hoarse.

“More than anything,” you breathed, your voice not even going above a whisper.

That was all Jack needed, before he pulled you back to his lips, his kiss hungrier than before, as he walked through his house and to his room. He kept you close still with one arm, as the other caught him as he laid you down on the bed and hovered over you. You kept your arms secured around him but your legs slowly fell away, spread wide for him to stay between. He kept himself propped slightly letting his other hand wonder. He his slipped under your shirt and then under the wire of your bra letting his thumb brush across your already hard nipple. It pulled a moan from Jack’s lips and he sat up slightly bringing you with him. His lips parted from yours as he quickly pulled your shirt over your head and discarding it somewhere in the room. Lips back on yours he soon tossed your bra away too. Then he finally let his lips drop and start to wander across your body. Your skin was soft and you smelled so good, that once again Jack could only think about how he never wanted to leave this moment. He kept his kisses feather light as he explored you, finding all the places that made you moan. He noted them carefully, before he finally moved to your breast. He pulled your left nipple between his fingers and pinched slightly. At the same time he pulled your right one between his lips and flicked the hard bud with his tongue. You let out a loud moan, your back arching into him and Jack smirked at himself. He flicked once more as he pulled and then was gone. He was quick to repeat the process on the opposite breast. You, once again, beautifully responding to him. He started to make his way down your stomach, until he came to the top of your jeans. He leaned up slightly, undoing your button and zipper slowly. He glanced up at you and you let out a whimper in a plea. Jack felt his cock twitch at the sight and sound.

He pulled your jeans away, along with your underwear and let them fall to the floor. He stood then, still stationed between your legs and looked down at you fully bare for him now. You were beautiful, no that wasn’t even the right word. There wasn’t one that accurately described you. Jack knew he was in so much trouble. His eyes that had racked over your body, now met yours, that still had a plea held in them. Your pupils blown, your lips swollen. It was truly a sight. He kept his eyes on yours as he removed his shirt and didn’t bother with his jeans yet as he kelt between your legs. He wound his arms around your legs, flatting his hands on your thighs to keep your legs open. The sight before him made him lick his lips. You wiggled and let out another desperate whimper, that sent Jack reeling. He dove, his tongue licking up your slit, and you let out the most beautiful noise Jack had ever heard in his life. You tasted incredible and it sent Jack into overdrive. He kept going, sucking and licking at your clit. He felt his hat knock off from his head, and your fingers in his hair pulling slightly.

“Jack,” you panted out, pulling slightly harder and he looked up at you still giving your clit little flicks with his tongue.

“Please…I want to feel you…inside me,” you begged and Jack smirked.

He reluctantly pulled his mouth away from you and stood. You sat up your feet hanging from the bed, as he watched you undo his pants. He helped you shove his jeans and underwear down, and before Jack could think to make a move you had his cock in your hand. You were quick to take him into your mouth, and it was so unexpected it took Jack a moment to catch up. His hand laced in your hair and he pulled ever so slightly, pulling a moan from you around his cock. He let out a hiss and closed his eyes, letting himself get lost in how good your mouth felt on him. He pushed his heavy lids open, looking down at you and it was such a beautiful sight, it was so hard for Jack to stop you. He pulled you up to him and kissed you deeply. The both of you seemed to moan in unison at tasting each other on your lips. He lightly pushed you back once again, and hovered over you. He pulled away, his forehead falling to yours as he glanced down and lined himself up with your dripping entrance, before he pushed in. He made himself go slow trying to take in how you felt as you opened for him. He buried his head in your neck as he finally filled you completely, and it was like the perfect puzzle pieces coming together.

“Fuck,” you whined and that sent Jack into a frenzy.

He pulled out and then snapped his hips forward, letting out a moan at the feeling. He did this a few more time, pulling moans and curses from you before he set a quicker pace. The room filled with the noises coming from the both of you. Jack tried so hard to be quiet, so he could hear ever last little sound you made. He wanted to hear them for the rest of his life. He wanted to spend every spare second he had pulling them from you. You felt so good around him and he swore he had never been with anyone that felt this perfect. It was making him climb his high, quickly.

“I’m so close,” you suddenly whimpered out.

“Let go for me sugar,” Jack spoke in a horse voice.

You snapped and clutched at him like a vice. It was enough for him to follow you. He drilled deep inside of you, and you milked him. He let out a groan as he buried his face in your neck. Your fingers came up and ran lazily through his hair. The two of you stayed like that for awhile, until you’d come back down to earth. Jack pulled out of you and gently laid down next to you. You turned on your side and he did the same, the two of you looking at each other.

“You were right,” you spoke after a few moments and Jack’s eyebrow quirked.

“About what sugar?”

“That was a lot of fun. The most fun I’ve had in awhile,” you smirked and Jack felt his heart jump slightly.

“I must say it was the most fun I’ve had as well sugar. You’re breathtaking,” the last few words fell from his lips in a whisper as he reached out and brushed away hair that was stuck to your face.

His fingers lingered as they softly brushed down your face, and he watched your eyes close and lean into his touch.

“Let me clean you up and we can get some sleep. That is, if you want to stay?” Jack had sat up and he paused looking back at you.

“Yeah I think I would like that,” you looked up at him and he smiled as did you.

He cleaned you up gently, and the two of you settled into bed. Jack pulled you close and watched as you slipped to sleep before he soon followed.

The sun pouring into the bedroom window pulled Jack from the most blissful sleep he could recall having. He turned his head to look at you, and my god how beautiful you were. You were still peacefully asleep. Your breathe was even and the sun danced over you. Jack watch you for awhile weighing these feelings that were creeping up on him. He knew deep down no matter how hard he tried not to, love was going to creep back up on him one day. Looking at you in his bed next to him he could feel it. He gently and slowly crawled out of bed, slipping on some pajama pants before padding to his kitchen. He turned on the radio and turned the volume low letting old classic rock and country music fill the silence. He started in on fixing you breakfast, silently praying that you would want to stay for it.

“I must've been through about a million girls

I'd love 'em and I'd leave 'em alone

I didn't care how much they cried, no sir

Their tears left me cold as a stone”

The familiar lyrics of a song filled the air around Jack, and he found himself smiling to himself. He moved around the kitchen and then he caught you leaning against the doorframe, hair ruffled and nothing but his shirt hanging on your figure. He knew in that moment, one glance at you, eyes catching yours. Both of your faces breaking out into smiles. The lyrics of the song rang true. Jack Daniels had fooled around and fell in love.

Tagged: @jimmythegirl @arcadianempress @discogrrl @immundusspiritu @someplace-darker @thisis-theway @ohpedromypedro @scribbledghost @fioccodineveautunnale @princess-and-pedro @phoenixhalliwell @littlevodka @all-hallows-evie @mack4676 @perropascal @audreyshepbvrn @mswarriorbabe80 @kaqua @novemberrain221 @weasleywinchester

#pedro pascal #jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey fic #jack whiskey daniels x reader #agent whiskey smut #Jack whiskey daniels fic #agent jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey x female reader #jack whiskey daniels x female reader #agent whiskey x f!reader #jack whiskey daniels x f!reader #jack whiskey daniels smut

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softguarnere · 1 year

Text

It Will Have Been Worth It

David Webster x reader

Soulmate!au in which the first words you ever hear your soulmate say appear on your skin when you turn thirteen

A/N: Out of everything I've ever written for this fandom, this fic has been one that has given me the most trouble. According to my notes, I started it on October 31st of last year 😬 None of my ideas for it felt right when I had them on paper, and I eventually just left it sitting in my drafts. Randomly got inspiration for it a few days ago, and now it's done! Better late than never, I guess A very special thank you to @brassknucklespeirs (welcome back babe, I missed you!!!!) and @liebgotts-lovergirl who both chatted with me about this fic last fall when I started it, and who both helped me with ideas all those months ago 💕 As usual, this is written for the fictional depictions from the tv show - no disrespect to the real life veterans! Warnings: alcohol, mentions of war, the author using every impressive high school vocab word she could possibly remember

Just because David has a large vocabulary doesn't mean that he's in total command of it at all times. Throwing around words that make other people furrow their brows as they try to ascertain what he means brings him some sense of satisfaction, but he also has a habit of flashing his arsenal of expressions when he's particularly nervous, hoping to throw off whoever has made him feel as if he's lost his footing. And when he's had a few drinks? Forget about it – all the words he once had at his disposal are suddenly either strung together to form nonsensical sentences or are nowhere to be found.

Is he pretentious? Perhaps, although he would argue that there's much more to the story. An elementary school teacher taking a liking to a poem he wrote when he was eight and exclaiming, "David, I think that you could be a great writer some day!" may have started him down that path, but he ultimately blames the words that appeared on his skin when he was thirteen.

He used to love looking at his parents’ soulmate tattoos. "What a lovely name" on his mother's wrist and "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet" on his father's. It always seemed so romantic to him, the thought that those had been the first words that his parents ever heard each other say, and that they got to flaunt those beautiful lines that they had given each other.

"If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it" appeared on the inside of his forearm on his thirteenth birthday. A beautiful line, really.

It's haunted him ever since.

"Make sure that you give your soulmate a tattoo that's just as pretty." His father had winked at him and slid him a piece of birthday cake – strawberry with vanilla buttercream frosting, he still remembers – unaware of the panic he had just set off in David's chest. Because that was the first time he had realized that, yes, he was responsible for giving his soulmate a poetic tattoo. His own is a beautiful turn of phrase. Whoever his soulmate is, they deserve a line that looks just as pretty on their own skin. It’s a duty that he comes to take very seriously.

Every person he meets, Webster makes sure to compose an amiable greeting for them, just in case. He’ll quote Shakespeare if he finds they’re particularly attractive, invoking his parents’ first meeting, since you never know. So what if some people push hard sighs through their nose whenever he opens his mouth to speak? He’s a student of literature; producing striking sentences is half of his job.

And, he reminds himself, one day he’ll find his soulmate, and he won’t have to worry about creating turns of phrase that are unequaled and unforgettable – except for his novels, of course. But whatever words he provides for his soulmate’s mark, he’s determined to make them as dazzling as the bright light thrown from a suncatcher on the clearest summer day.

. . .

It’s at seventeen that he learns that not everyone finds their soulmate. The library is quiet, save for the sounds coming from the diligent scratching of pencils, the turning of pages, and the soft breathing of focused students. He turns a page in his own book and is confronted with the staggering statistic that only twenty percent of people are recorded to find theirs.

“That’s less than one fourth of the population!” He exclaims to himself without meaning to, disrupting the tranquility of the study space and garnering several peeved looks for his outburst. A seemingly unnecessary one to everyone else, but justified in his own mind.

Twenty percent! He’s still aghast as he gathers his own books and escorts himself from the library. The cool breeze blowing through the late afternoon can’t even distract him from the train of thought that has now run off the rails, chugging along through his mind with no sign of stopping.

Because now, come to think of it, people get married all the time, soulmate tattoos or not. And there’s no law or anything stating that you have to marry your soulmate once you meet them; they’re simply the person who would be the best suited for you. You could go about your lives as nothing more than just friends – or worse, nothing at all, even if you did find each other.

To say that the conclusions reached that afternoon astound him would be an understatement of epic proportions. He’s never quite the same after that. But it doesn’t stop his extraordinary expressions.

. . .

War breaks out. He leaves college for the experience. He volunteers for the paratroopers because, even though they’re new, they’re the best. If he wants to write about war – or write anything good, really – he’ll have to get his hands dirty with experience so that the sentences that stain his pages can be clean, clear, concise, and indelible to his readers. Honestly, it’s not until he hears one of the other men in his company point out that the new migrations and travel opportunities given to them by the conflict may well improve their chances of finding their soulmates that he realizes that statistic he once read will soon be incorrect.

For a brief and terrifying moment, Webster – as he is now called amongst his fellow soldiers – thinks that maybe Joe Liebgott is his soulmate, and that he’s responsible for giving him a really awful line. Webster had made an offhanded comment about the quality of the eggs one morning at breakfast, and the Californian had given him such a perplexed look that Webster’s panic led him to believe that the cab driver must have “What do they season their eggs with around here? Sawdust?” somewhere on his person, and that the reason he remained so quiet around him was due to not wanting Webster to hear him speak so that they would never know if they were actually soulmates. Luckily those fears had been laid to rest when Webster caught a glimpse of the words “Cabbie, if you drive any faster, I think the car will start flying” on his leg during a run up Currahee. It turned out that he simply didn’t agree with Webster’s observations on the quality of the eggs. Still, Webster remembers to be more careful with his words.

When he can be, actually. Which is not when he’s been drinking.

The British pub is loud with the sounds of servicemen singing and laughing well into the night. The general consensus that they’re finally going to be thrust into combat soon has filled many men with a renewed zest for life, and from the sounds and sights all around, people are relishing the nights like these while they can. And who can blame them?

“What did they even teach you at Harvard?” Hoobler wants to know as Webster downs a shot. “I mean, as a literature major, and all.”

“Is it just reading?” Skinny Sisk questions. “’Cause if so, then anyone with a library card can probably get a degree.”

Webster purses his lips, his glass returning to the table with a harsh slam that announces the displeasure that he’s trying to keep out of his voice. “Ha ha ha. Very funny.”

“I was being serious,” Hoobler clarifies. “You know, just out of curiosity, and all.”

“How do you even use a literature degree?” The conversation has caught the attention of Joe Toye and George Luz at the next table, and they turn to join Webster, Hoobler, and Sisk, suddenly very interested in the academic intricacies of studying literature.

“Well, I’m studying literature because I want to be a writer,” Webster admits.

“And write about what?”

Webster makes a vague gesture, trying to encapsulate their environment, the lives they’ve lived since enlisting, the world itself – everything. “War,” he says instead, an understatement.

“Hey!” Luz says brightly. “You could review books. There’s an idea.”

Toye cocks an eyebrow. “Is there money in that?”

“You could review Hitler’s book,” Luz continues. “Really tear it apart on it’s word choices, and all that.”

“Hitler can read? Who knew!” Skinny asks, making everyone laugh.

“What do you think he even would read? In all his spare time, I mean, when he’s not invading countries and forcing men like us out of our homes to come and stop him.”

All eyes immediately turn to Webster, expectantly awaiting an answer. The literature student freezes with a bottle of beer halfway to his lips.

“What?” He asks.

“It was a question, Professor,” Toye says. “You gonna answer it?”

“You were serious?”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

Despite himself, Webster can feel his eyebrows shoot up, betraying his surprise. “How would I know?”

“Well, in your expert opinion,” Luz suggests.

Skinny nudges Hoobler. “He just doesn’t want to admit that he doesn’t know.”

Heat rushes to Webster’s face, and it’s not entirely from the warm glow of the alcohol. If it weren’t for the dim lighting of the pub, the tips of his ears would probably be glowing a bright pink with his ignominy.

“They didn’t teach me that at Harvard,” he says.

Hoobler smirks. “Uh huh. Sure.”

“Awe, come on!” Webster exclaims. “I’m just trying to fight a war. I am not prepared to make speculations about Hitler’s literary preferences!”

“Excuse me,” a new, much sweeter voice cuts in. At once, all the men’s defenses are down as they turn to see two prepossessing women standing at the edge of their group. They look familiar, somehow, and if it weren’t for the dim lighting and the alcohol, Webster would swear that he’s seen them in passing before. “Hi, I’m Evelyn, and this is my friend (Y/N).”

The second woman, seemingly a little shyer, offers them a small wave and a smile as her friend takes the lead. Perhaps it’s the darkness playing tricks on Webster’s eyes, but he could swear that she’s looking at him, and that she suddenly looks a little fidgety as the introduction goes on.

“We’re with the Red Cross,” Evelyn continues, her words providing explanation as to her familiarity. Then, implausibly, she fixes her gaze directly on Webster. “(Y/N) here has been watching you for a while, so I decided it was high time that we came over and introduced ourselves.” She leaves the obvious unspoken – because war is an uncertain thing and it’s better to die with no regrets than to always wonder what could have been.

Me?! The other paratrooper’s eyes flick between (Y/N) and Webster as he stands, his friends struck with the same sense of wonder. With Skinny or Tab, this sort of scene is not infrequent, but nothing of the sort has happened to Webster – if he’s being completely honest, not even in college.

He clears his throat. So focused on willing his hands not to feel sweaty through sheer force of will, Webster extends his for a shake, not even bothering to watch his words.

“Hello. I’m David Webster,” he says, noticing how soft your hand is in his. “It’s nice to meet you.”

You beam at him. “If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it.”

He freezes. Behind him, he can feel his friends tense up as well. “Oh my God,” he whispers, for it’s all he can do. The words that he’s been waiting his entire life to hear have just come out of your mouth – and he’s just recited what must be the blandest line in the history of soulmate tattoos!

Webster rolls up his shirt sleeve and reveals his tattoo, the beautiful line staring up at him in confirmation. Air vacates his lungs, leaving him breathless as his heart pounds in his chest.

You begin to roll up your own sleeve, and Webster winces at the anticipation of seeing his introduction on your arm. But when the ink on your arm is exposed, you glance up at him, something like a smirk playing at your lips.

“Oh my God,” Webster says again, wanting to kick himself, and for a completely different reason this time.

“It was the first thing that I ever heard you say,” you tell him.

Evelyn gasps, then slaps a hand over her mouth, though it does no good to contain the giggles that still pour out. The other Easy Company men crowd around, trying to catch a glimpse of your arm.

There in the pub, in front of everyone, the first words that you, Webster’s soulmate, ever heard come out of his mouth stain your arm, making several people laugh: I’m just trying to fight a war. I am not prepared to make speculations about Hitler’s literary preferences!

At least now he doesn’t have to waste the rest of his life being so cautious with his words.

#david webster #david webster x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x reader #soulmate au #my writing

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itwoodbeprefect · 3 months

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"but how do you watch something accidentally with french subtitles?" you may ask, and i may tell you that it's simple, because i love english, english is fun and versatile and incredibly useful in this world, but listening to some dutch music recently reminded me how much consuming dutch art for a change feels like doing stretches for my brain (i don't really notice what i'm missing out on if i don't do it, but it feels SO good when i do), and that had me pondering once again how to incorporate some german into my diet in a natural way, because if dutch is my language, then german belongs to people i love, german is the one used to tell family stories, german is a language that feels like home but that i use so little it always takes a few days of just listening before i remember how to speak without feeling like an idiot, and so i thought to myself, well, i know bad buddy has a whole list of subtitle options, and perhaps i can pull off a really neat trick here and get my fill of german while also spending some time with thai (with which i am having a torrid love affair this year) through a show i know almost by heart at this point, because i can process the german fast enough to still be able to listen to what i'm hearing (the spoken thai), and then as a bonus, i'd get to sidestep english entirely for a few brief but glorious moments, which is a thing so rare it's almost unheard of, and that would just be a win-win-win. however! it turns out german is not one of the many, many languages offered on youtube as a subtitle option for bad buddy (which is of course fine because in a grand way, truly, why would it). and they do happen to have french, which i then of course had to click just for fun almost as a joke just to see it play for a minute or so and definitely not any longer than that, and as it turns out, on a practical is-this-doable-for-me level french in this context worked out way better than i thought it might, which is why i got sucked in immediately, easily fascinated as i am. but this is also a language that has me reading just slowly enough that it takes all my attention to have any hope at staying caught up with the speed of the dialogue, which amounts to a situation that is, you know, not making me feel much closer to my german grandmother (or making me feel very much at all for that matter, because on the whole i have a deeply impersonal relationship with french), but that IS very unexpectedly making me think fondly of my high school french teacher who once wrote under an assignment that he really hoped i'd choose to do something with languages. and this is probably not what he meant, but i suppose i am doing that, yes. both by choice and because i stumbled and tripped and now i've watched several episodes of a french subtitled thai show in an attempt to find german input because i was listening to dutch music.

#the other thing i'm doing with languages is going fuck. shit. goddammit. what's the word for starfish in dutch #stervis??? wtf no?? and then i limp over to google like a shot deer and go 🥺 ? help? and google kindly offers me the word zeester #and then i'm like huh. i know thai goes the english route (plaa dao! literally fish+star) and starfish vs. seastar is ALMOST the same thing #but it also crucially isn't. this thing is not a fish. that's wrong. it's a star of the sea! i think the dutch have got it right here #and then i go through a list of languages and start tallying which side of this debate i just made up they come down on #and this is an incredibly biased line up but you know what. zeester. seestern. étoile de mer. estrella de mar. stella marina.#i feel less confident in claiming things like морская звезда and søstjerne but as far as i can tell they're in this camp too #sorry to the english but you really ARE the odd one out here in europe. what are you DOING. we all agree this thing is not a fish #< and crucially i go through all of this and THEN i end up on the english wikipedia page for starfish #which opens with the words (imagine a long pause here for dramatic effect)...... 'Starfish or sea stars'#sea stars!! i've never heard that used but hey. i guess all hope is not lost for you english.#she's a little confused but she's got the sea star #*

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collecting-stories · 1 year

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Pablo Neruda - Usnavi de la Vega

Request: no

Summary: reader has a crush on Usnavi and invites him to dinner. Just a bunch of fluff really.

A/N: I don't even know for sure how long this has been in my notes. Literally found it the other day and figured it was high time to finish it and post it here. Even if no one really cares about In the Heights anymore.

Broadway Masterlist

✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎

The sight behind the counter shouldn’t have been a surprising one. It was more common than not that you would find Marco here, chin just level with the counter despite the stool that Usnavi let him stand on. He thought the bodega was the coolest place on earth and frequently told the owner that when he was Sonny’s age, he too would work there.

His Spider-Man bike was chained up outside, evidence that he’d ridden straight here after school despite your constant reminders that he needed to come home first.

“Someday I’m gonna report you as a missing child…they’re gonna think Usnavi kidnapped you.” You remarked, the bell jangling as the door shut behind you. The fan set up in the corner blew passed you as it oscillated, trying to keep the store cool in the early heat of June. You took quick stock of what you could see, noting the absence of any adult supervising your seven-year-old. “Speaking of, where is Usnavi?”

“The cooler broke again,” Marco replied. The thud of his small feet hitting the floor echoed in the space and he came around the counter to hug you, “I got a gold star on my story about Puerto Rico,” he mentioned, pulling away to go retrieve the paper that had already been pinned up to the bulletin board behind the counter. No doubt Usnavi’s doing.

“Wow, that’s so great baby,” you took the papers that were stapled together, looking over the story that he’d recited to you three times that morning. “You’re like a little Pablo Neruda.”

“Who?” Marco took the papers back, hanging them in their rightful place once more. A couple of his drawings accompanied the story. Once Usnavi had even hung a spelling test up so everyone could see it. You appreciated the sweetness, the willingness to help whenever you needed it, having someone around that your son could rely on, but it didn’t stop the occasional pang of something indescribable in your chest. You didn’t want Marco to get his hopes up…god knows you kept waiting for something you were sure wasn’t going to happen. Despite Carla constantly insisting that Usnavi had feelings for you.

“Yeah, feelings of friendship. Feelings of ‘look at this poor pathetic girl I’ve known my whole life, still can’t make it out, got a kid now cause she was too stupid to see when her boyfriend was lying to her.”

“Trust me, the only thing Usnavi’s thinking with when you come in the store is-“

“Oh god Carla!”

But you couldn’t help feeling more than a little hopeful everytime you saw one of Marco’s tests or drawings hanging up, as if Usnavi was just as proud as you were. As if Marco had a dad (or at least a father figure) who actually cared about him.

“Pablo Neruda wrote love poems,” Usnavi’s voice sounded from behind you. “He’s your mama’s favorite.”

You turned to look at him and he winked as if the two of you were co-conspirators. Like you were in on the same secret and it made your heart pick up speed just a little bit.

“Who else is gonna write me love poems?” You managed to say, rather proud that you’d even mustered a sentence together.

The smile didn’t leave Usnavi’s face, even after you turned back to Marco and told him to get his stuff together so you could go home. While you were used to the moaning and protesting that usually accompanied this request you were rather taken aback when Marco hopped off the stool without question and started gathering his school supplies off the counter.

“Can Usnavi come over for dinner? He said Sonny’ll be here soon to help and that means he wouldn’t have to hang around too…can he?” Marco asked, eagerly, looking to Usnavi, “do you wanna come over for dinner?”

“You’re going to abuela’s for dinner, remember?” It was Wednesday and Wednesday meant dinner with your ex’s mom.

“Well, then you and Usnavi can have dinner.” He suggested, toothy smile (minus a noticeable one in the front).

You thought about saying that you were more than positive Usnavi had better things to do than come over to your place and eat dinner with you but your mouth worked before your brain could intervene and suddenly you heard yourself saying, “what’d you say? Wanna have dinner with me?” to Usnavi.

Maybe it was the heat or the work trying to fix the cooler that had him flushed but you swore he looked almost nervous when he nodded his head, like the offer was too good to be true. “Yeah, definitely.”

Usnavi wasn’t one to get his hopes up. Benny constantly swore that you were basically in love, (“you’re practically raising Marco together, now if you could just get together”), but Usnavi didn’t want to take the chance and look like a fool. Not to mention, he liked Marco a lot and he didn’t want you to think he had some ulterior motive for being nice to your son. He wasn’t expecting you to want to be with him and he didn’t want you to think he was.

You told him seven o’clock and he got there at 6:45, standing at the bottom of the stoop and contemplating the flowers he’d brought. You didn’t say it was date or even imply that this was anything more than you offering a meal while Marco was at his abuela’s. Maybe you just didn’t feel like eating alone. Or maybe you felt bad because Marco had offered dinner and you didn’t want to be rude. Maybe the flowers were overkill, maybe you were allergic.

“You stand outside all night, you’re never gonna get a chance,” Daniela teased as she walked passed him, bumping her hip against his playfully.

“We’re just having dinner,” Usnavi didn’t bother to ask how Daniela already knew about the dinner. No doubt everyone in Washington Heights knew about dinner.

“Yeah?” She plucked a flower out of the bunch, “hoping for dessert?”

Usnavi choked on his reply, swallowing down the last bout of nerves and heading up to the door before Daniela could continue teasing him. You were on the second floor, the black and white tiled hallway was missing a piece right beside your door and when you complained the landlord told you there was nothing he could do. Now a large pot sat over it with monstera growing next to a welcome mat that you changed out for the seasons. It was getting close to valentines and the mat had red and pink X’s and O’s.

The green door was cracked open, a “come on in” gesture that Usnavi had encounter a few times before when he’d offered to keep Marco while you worked and then walked the boy home at the end of the night. He rarely saw you without your son and it occurred to him as he pushed the door open that this would be the first time he was at your place without the seven year old buffer leading the conversations.

“Uh, hey, the door was open,” Usnavi offered as he walked in, shut the door behind him, and walked further into your apartment. He was still holding the flowers, down by his side, their petals directed at the hardwood floor.

“Hey,” you moved away from the frying pan to give him a hug, laughing gently at the sight of the bouquet. “Are those for me?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he apologized, whipping them up so fast a few petals fell off. “Daniela stole one, actually.”

“Well they’re beautiful, thank you.” You took the bouquet from him and Usnavi watched you move around the small kitchen, grabbing a vase and filling it with water and arranging the flowers. He thought about something Abuela Claudia had told him years ago about knowing when he was in love and he turned away, looking around the rest of the small space as if he’d never been in it before.

“Sonny didn’t mind watching the store I hope,” you mentioned, looking for something to say. It felt different without Marco there. Not the sort of different that made it awkward, despite you grasping for something to say, but the sort of different that felt like talking and having dinner were the furthest things from your mind. The sort of different that had you thinking Daniela and Carla and everyone else in the Heights that had an opinion on it was right.

“As long as I bring him back something,” he replied. He’d made it to the bookcase near the front door, looking through all the books at eye level first. Pablo Neruda caught his eye and he took the book down, skimming through the pages.

“Whatca got there?” You asked, coming over to look around his shoulder at the book he was holding in his hands.

Usnavi tilted his head to look back toward you, “estás aquí. Oh, no te escapes," he began, reciting the poem as you stood there listening, dinner forgotten. His voice was smooth, the way it always was but somehow different too. Sweeter, like honey.

That different sort of feeling that you were trying not to fall into settled over you as you listened to him read. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, and when he finally reached the end of the poem and he looked over at you, the fall you were trying to avoid suddenly crashed over you.

“...quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos,” he recited, eyes meeting yours.

“¿Es así?” You were only just barely aware of Usnavi placing the book back on the shelf, the thin volume of poems falling to the floor from its haphazard placement. He turned into your space, kissing you without hesitation.

Benny always said he was too slow, that he overthought all of his actions before he did them, and that what he needed to do was just act. It wasn’t advice he ever actually took. Usnavi just wasn’t the kind of person who acted on impulse. And then all of the sudden he was holding your face in his hands and kissing you in your living room. Impulsive, absolutely. When you finally pulled away, only to catch your breath, Usnavi smiled. That irresistibly boyish smile that always gave you butterflies. “Dinner?” He asked, only to avoid any more impulsive acts like telling you he loved you.

“Dinner can wait.”

The door to the apartment slammed open and Marco came through, kicking his shoes off as he called out, “Mama! Mama!”

Behind him, the door shut, his grandma stepping into the kitchen and looking suspiciously over the food that was left on the counter, still in the pan though the oven was off. The door to your bedroom was open and before Marco could make it that far you appeared in the hall, holding a zippered sweatshirt closed, semi-nervous smile on your face.

“Hey baby, how was dinner?” You asked, hovering near the door of your room.

“Abuela made dulce de leche! I brought you a piece!” He held the tupperware out toward you proudly, “Is Usnavi still here?”

“Uh, he’s...he’s in the...” you floundered, trying to think of something to say. He was very much still there, on the other side of the open door, pulling his clothes on as fast as possible.

“Why don’t we put this in the fridge Marco,” your ex’s mother suggested, taking the tupperware back from you and putting her arm around your son’s shoulders, “wait for your mama and this Usnavi to join us.”

If you didn’t know you’d hear an earful from her about almost getting caught by your son, you would have thanked her for intervening when she did. Instead you just ducked back in your room, closing the door so you could change quickly, clocking Usnavi standing there with a massive grin on his face.

“Don’t smile at me like that,” you whispered. An empty warning, really.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he replied, grin still in place.

“Come on, I still owe you dinner.” You held the bedroom door open for him to go out first, “and now we’ve got dessert too.”

Usnavi stopped in the doorway to kiss you, “I’ve already had mine.” When you smacked his arm he only laughed and continued into the kitchen, Marco’s excited greeting putting a smile on your face as you walked into the kitchen after him.

✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎

The poem Usnavi reads is Pablo Neruda's Everyday You Play .

Translations:

estás aquí. Oh, no te escapes - you are here. Oh you do not run away

quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos - I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees

¿Es así? - is that so? / it's like that?

#usnavi x reader #usnavi x y/n #usnavi x you #usnavi de la vega x reader #usnavi imagine #usnavi blurb #usnavi fanfiction #in the heights fanfiction #in the heights imagine #in the heights fanfic #in the heights fic #in the heights blurb #collecting stories imagine

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altraviolet · 10 months

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This might be a weird question, but do you ever get sad that Echo Garden is going to end? I know it's not actually extremely close to being done, but I already know I'm going to miss it

I'll miss reading Soundwave having silly interactions, I'll miss the wonderful side characters (Toaster best boy)

I'll miss the way you make characters feel so alive, how the world you write feels so enthralling. I'll miss this Lost Light, and their alternate universes, and all the adventures they'll have after the story ends

YES

How do I make the font bigger. Also sorry this response got really long.

YES I GET WEIRD AND SAD ABOUT IT. I feel a LOT of things (which I'll get into). I actually started feeling sad about it at least a year ago. It's VERY weird to be this brain-deep into a story and know it has a lifespan. I've gone through this before with my other very long fic. That ended and I felt really accomplished, but kind of sad. But I ended it in a way that made the reader feel like what we saw was just a peek into their lives. They had lives before we intruded and they'll have lives after our eyes have turned away. The TEG ending won't quite hit that note, at least in the same way, but I am still VERY excited for the last line (for nerdass English teacher reasons)

(I'm not an English teacher)

(I'm excited for reasons your high school English teacher would be excited ANYWAY)

Yes, I will be sad to let this go. But, to be honest, I'll also be relieved, because the story is massive. It's sometimes daunting to write, and at this point, every chapter is draining to write. I am so happy people say that they find the characters' emotions easy to identify with, because I put ALL MY BRAIN into writing those emotions. It's almost like acting in my head: I live through all those emotions over and over as I write and edit each part. So, I am tired.

I find the audience size a little daunting. I've never done ANYthing in my life that had an audience of 1000+ people. I've presented to hundreds, but never thousands. I also - and this is not something I keep a secret, but it's also something I don't mention often - feel very very skeeved out at the minors that are reading this fic. I know they're there and it's grossssssssss... I've come close to deleting the story more than once because of that. I'm feeling really asdlfkajsf about the next chapter because of that. Like. They don't respect the rating or the warnings I put on there, so there's nothing I can do. So once the story is done, at least I won't be thinking about that anymore, eugh.

So sad, relieved, daunting... what else? I will feel accomplished. It looks like this sucker is going to cross 300,000 words and that is MIND BLOWING to me. I'm going to feel so happy about that :)

And...! I've been considering this fic practice for writing (in terms of description, dialog, story arc, character arc) for original work. I dunno if I'd tell you all when I wrote something original. Maybe it's best to keep names separate. Maybe you'll find me anyway ;) But yeah. Echo Garden is a huge love letter to the original work and also practice for future work that, I hope, people will also love.

WHICH REMINDS ME sorry this is getting long. The feelings you feel for TEG are what I feel about MTMTE. I fucking miss that comic! I miss new adventures. I miss the characters! And that's also why I'm writing TEG. I want to see them moving and adventuring and alive again. Suffering and growing, as well, but alive nonetheless! JRO COME BACK AGSLDKJSAF I'm ok I'm ok

So thank you! I appreciate your kinds words. AND! I may very well write a sequel. I've been thinking about it. There are little seeds I've planted in TEG specifically so that they may bloom in a sequel. I also said I'd write a sequel for Face The Past, though, and I never did that... but maybe I'll write something even better than TEG! Or not lol. But! Yes, thank you so much for your kind words. Don't give up hope for a sequel. Enjoy what we've got as it's coming out, and keep your heart and eyes open for future stuff from me :)

Thank you again ❤️

#ask #anonymous #after TEG #long post

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a-man-for-hire-and-his-archives · 5 months

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‘Black Sails’ Star Luke Arnold Is Creating A Graphic Novel With A Strong Creative Compass

Though he’s had a long run as a working actor, Australian born Black Sails and INXS: Never Tear Us Apart star Luke Arnold says he’s always been a writer. He says that’s related to his favorite part of acting – figuring out the strategy for the performance more than the performance itself.

For Arnold, getting into the space to create is vital. Drama school was followed by the start of his on-screen career, but while he was still writing, he felt a truth that will resonate with many aspiring creators: “For so long you’re so desperate for a paycheck and for something to happen in your career that for so long as a young actor, it’s hard to really focus on something [else],” he says while recounting the process of trying to find time to write in between auditions and jobs.

Arnold is talking with us as he readies the launch of a Kickstarter campaign around a new, high concept graphic novel that he-co-wrote with Chris “Doc” Wyatt. The story plays with shifting realities, twisting truths, and anti-science ideas. It sound expansive and timely, deploying multiple heavy-hitter artists (including Bill Sienkiewicz, Glenn Fabry, Jason Howard, Vince Locke, Brendan McCarthy, Andrea Mutti, and M.K. Perker) in collaboration with The Lab Press. This follows his three novels with a fourth on the way.

Arnold’s writing work is the result of a careful balance that grants him the time to carve out dedicated space to write, doing it in a way that seems to not just impact the work but also reinvigorate him when a new acting role comes along. That balance has come from having worked steadily and from legit financial planning.

“I do put time aside and I know I’ve got to make the acting money last through that time. And make sure there’s enough, all the rent and bills and everything are covered while the money isn’t pouring in the same way it does when you’re on an acting job that gives you a check every week,” says Arnold.

Working in this fashion gives Arnold the ability to not be pushed into bad creative decisions by necessity, accountable to his audience more than to the business side of things. It’s a luxury, to be sure, but one that he is happy to lean into with focus and humbleness (believe me, Arnold gets how lucky he is to be able to put one career down for a moment to pick up another, mentioning it more than once).

“If you start spending so much that now you have to make all your decisions based on finances, you start making the wrong decisions, you start taking jobs you don’t want to take.” says Arnold.

The desire to chase a kind of purity with the creative process extends beyond planning and striving for dedicated time. It also factors into how he chose to pursue this specific process, turning to Kickstarter.

“It takes so many barriers away, because so much in publishing and getting books out can be about this whole network of agents and publishers to the booksellers, to the bookstores, to the people in the bookstores recommending it to readers. And that can be such a great pipeline of people, but it can also limit what people have access to,” Arnold says. “Kickstarter is a very level playing field and very creator driven. So it’s a perfect place for this whole journey to start.”

While Arnold also lauds Kickstarter’s creative community and other benefits, he acknowledges the advantage his name recognition brings, though we both agree that it may, at times, be overstated.

“I think that the’ve got to be careful how I say this. I’m sure when I get opportunities like this, some part of it is that I have have a profile from a TV show. But I think it often gets overestimated, this idea of how much of an audience will follow you between different fields and different mediums,” he says, before I co-sign the thought by reminding that there is a big difference between following someone and giving them a credit card number.

At the end of the day, while some may click because of Arnold’s run on Black Sails (the pirate epic is about to hit Netflix in full), the idea for Essentials has to win them over. It’s why we’re talking with him, to be honest. And so, to end off and share info on the Kickstarter, let’s have him make that sales pitch in his own words.

“Essentials follows Harris Pax, who was the one scientist who foresaw this inter-dimensional collision happening where our dimension collided with another. Now objective reality has become untethered. And people’s subjective realities are becoming real, the way they see the world, their fears, beliefs, ideas are manifesting around them. This was a kind-of COVID baby. This was an idea that we were forming in 2020. A lot of it is dealing with that idea of what the hell do you do when everyone is in their own little world. And we can no longer agree on some basic facts, science, the world we’re in, and how hard is it to do what Harris tries to do, which is to go into these subjective realities and try and convince the person inside that they need to come back to the real world.”

You can check out the Kickstarter for Essentials on April 17.

Source: Uproxx

#black sails #luke arnold #interview #uproxx #essentials

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