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korruptbrekker · 1 year

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Ooh here's the one I got! Prompt 359: "People aren’t made for each other; they make themselves for each other." Tchaikstakovich preferred, but you can really write any ship you want :D

I added onto this request with a randomly generated trope as well, which turned out to be 7: Arranged Marriage

[AO3]

👑 • 👑

The study door was ajar, as it occasionally was, and Pyotr could feel the draft slipping into the hallway. He brushed the door opened and stepped in, unsurprised to find it empty.

The sheer curtains fluttered in the mild wind, his husband silhouetted against the graying sky. He looked so regal like this, back effortlessly straight, shoulders strong and unburdened.

If Pyotr didn't know him, he would believe Dimitri chose this life. But Pyotr knew him well, and could see how heavy the world weighed on him. Even without seeing his face, Pyotr knew the wrinkles around his eyes weren't from years of smiling.

He glanced to the desk, fingers trailing along the dark wood. Most of the contents were letters; correspondents with various government officials. Books of geography, economics, and finance were stacked on the lefthand side of the desk. And beneath them, hidden where no one would see, were hints of manuscript paper. A taste of the life Dmitri would have led if he were not bound to Pyotr.

He turned his attention to the balcony again, admiring his husband. It wasn't often they were allowed a chance to breathe, always swarmed with the responsibilities of running a kingdom by themselves. Certainly, they had help, but he and Dmitri were the figureheads of the country. Every choice they made, whether it be by themselves or with a team, was always put on their shoulders.

He often wondered what would have happened if Dimitri had never been put in this position. If he had continued to be merely a prince, if his older brother had never died, and if he had never had to marry Pyotr.

They weren't unhappy together. Strictly the opposite, in fact. That much Pyotr was immensely grateful for. They had decided to make the best out of a bad situation, and had both come out of it stronger together. Love was not effortless, and through the years of working together they put the work in to make something.

Something real.

He stepped further into the room, silently walking towards the balcony. He leaned against the archway, looking out on the same view Dmitri was lost in.

There were days where he dreamed of them meeting in a different way. A more natural way. Something from a fairytale.

But he always paused, wondering if he would have taken that fairytale meeting for granted. Their love had taken so much work in the beginning, and he wasn't sure he would have put that effort in if he hadn't been forced to.

Fairytales were nice, they were sweet escapes. But there is more to life than love at first sight, and if a more natural meeting meant something that disappeared in only a few months, Pyotr would selfishly keep the life he now had to himself.

He moved towards the balcony, resting his forearms on the railing, his arms just shy of brushing his husband's.

They were quiet. Nowadays they didn't need to say much to each other. Years of being in each other's company and wrapped in the whirlwind of running a kingdom had made them appreciate their silence.

They both just sat by each other, the only sound between them their breath. Out in the distance there was a storm rolling in, thick black clouds shrouding the mountains in the distance. Columns of rain descended from them, making a mockery of the angelic imagery that lined the castle walls Pyotr had grown up within.

He sighed. Yearning for an easier life was tempting, but he had fallen into that pit too many times to humour those ideas for long. He had spent too many years wishing for something better, unknowingly casting aside the light that inhabited this life.

Eventually Dimitri broke the silence, still looking out into the sky.

“I love you,” he said, voice clear and strong as it always was.

Pyotr smiled. “I love you too.”

The silence settled back around them, blanketing the words that held so much weight. They were so much more than the empty vows they had been.

Now they held promise.

Promise that he and Dmitri would one day get their own fairytale ending. Just as they had built their love for each other from the ground up, they would build their story too.

And live happily ever after.

#kbanswers #local-human-disaster #kbwrites #b2tsm #tchaikovsky b2tsm #shostakovich b2tsm #tchaikstakovich #arranged marriage

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phoenixrising0308 · 2 years

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The Time Apart : Coming home

@wackydrabbles Prompt #102*: “You keep a photo of ________ in your wallet? ” Note - the original prompt was “us” and not a fill-in, so use “us” for bonus drabble cred this week! ☑️ *challenge accepted*

Books: The Royal Romance

Rating: G

Triggers: None Identified by this author

Pairing: (no pairing) Jessica, Maxwell, and Bertrand

A/U: Agent Phoenix: Forged in Fire - The time apart: This timeline occurs during Jessica's absence in Cordonia or when not formally paired in Cordonia with Liam as the TRR cast and original characters deal with her absence as well as Jessica and Liam attempt to go through life without each other. Stories may or may not have an in the present timeline component and are not always in order. It depends on the prompt, random inner thoughts, and the muse whenever they stop by. There are no chapter numbers as they are written as just a series of events in story form. Multi-part stories, as always, are labeled.

Detailed disclaimer

Catch me here

A/N #1: Jessica is adopted legally by the Beaumonts

A/N #2 This is my first Agent Phoenix forged in fire directors cut one-shot and drabble series timeline. This story has been in my drafts for 2 years and I was able to play around with the prompt for it to work :)

Song Inspiration: Coming home (CLEAN)- Diddy ft. Dirty money & Skylar Grey &

Photograph - Ed Sheeran

Word count: 1,996*As always, forgive my typos and grammatical errors.*

Reading time: 8 minutes

Years ago in Cordonia...

Liam's Office in the Capital

Liam's red-rimmed eyes looked at his brother, and he said, "He changed the law. I can't believe he terminated RG- 7 visa status three days before the wedding, and the state offices are closed. What good is all this power if I am just following the laws he made that can not be overturned? He has stolen our happiness together, and now with this law, he is taking my ability to just see her in any capacity."

"Liam, we will figure it out," Leo assured his brother.

"Leo, I don't know what to do. I just need time to rid myself of this marriage. But if she doesn't have status in the next day or two, she is gone forever, and there is nothing I can do."

"Liam, I will have to go to archives to find the canon law to refer to. But I can outmaneuver this. The archives are only open to the sovereign and their regent...which is you. I need your permission to enter. And I need an order from you to restore my Bastier privileges.

"Of course you have it." Liam quickly began working on the order.

Ramford Vineyard

Jessica sat on her bed looking through her suitcase as tears streamed down her face as she thought out loud, "What do you wear when you watch someone you love marry someone else? Black? Red? Well, I guess if heartbreak was a color, you would wear that."

*knock*

Jessica wiped her tears and took one shaky breath, and said, "Come in." As she zipped up the suitcase.

Bertrand entered the room with a blank expression on his face "Lady Jessica, I would like to broach a difficult subject with you."

"Sure, Mr. Rogers lay it on me." Jessica teased

Bertrand took a deep breath. "I have come to talk about your intentions of staying here."

"Bertrand, I came for the wedding. I haven't thought past that."

"We are forever grateful that you have. I regret to inform you that your RG-7 visa has been revoked."

Jessica's lips trembled, and she began to cry. "What?"

"Jessica, it means that you will have three days after the wedding to settle your affairs and return home."

Jessica took a deep breath. "OH. Then I guess I will just reapply for a travel visa and come back after settling back home."

Bertrand sat next to her. His eyes began to water. "Jessica, you cannot come back. The status is extended to Royal Guest as a suitor you were a guest of this house. With the ending of Social Season, you are not. For you to be granted privileges to enter as an unmarried suitor with no relations to a royal house, Liam would need to sign for your entry."

Jessica smirked. "Well, of course, he would. I will be back as soon as I can."

Bertrand's voice wavered, "The Queen would also need to sign… We all know she wouldn't because you are a threat to her even if you are not in that..." he paused, then said, "Cordonian arrangement."

"So I won't even be able to see my friends or come back to my second home?"

Bertrand reached for Jessica's hand and said as his voice wavered, "You will be prohibited from reentry for either five, ten, or 20 years. It's even possible that you will not be allowed to return at all. It is out of Liam's hands. Should he divorce, the ban remains intact."

"God, Constantine made sure to not just screw me out of a future with Liam. He made sure I would never see you guys ever again...at least in person on Cordonian soil. All I'm guilty of is loving Liam."

"Jessica, I have not been able to offer you financial assistance, and it is a regrettable shame that I couldn't. You have comported yourself with grace and dignity, and we are proud of you. Leo has found a law that gives us time. I can adopt you as a sibling. So Maxwell and I would like to offer you our name. You will have the right to be affiliated with our house and part take in court events. I expect it. It is an honorary title and one that you have earned and brings me great joy to give you… as the sister, you have become to us. Should you decide to stay past the grace period, you can be given citizenship through us, which I will gladly sponsor."

Jessica gave Bertrand an embrace that he accepted without hesitation.

Bertrand then said, "However, this means that you are in my care. SO if someone would like to court you, they will approach me as it is our custom."

1 day later ...

Ramford Vineyard

The sibling adoption ceremony took place at 3 pm. Jessica proudly wore her house colors light blue. Her dress was a stunning A-Line scoop neck knee-length chiffon cocktail dress with ruffles as she signed the document that would tie her to the Beaumont's forever the late Duchess's ring adorned her finger a gift from Bertrand. The brothers wanted to tie her to their house not in name but spirit by bestowing her an heirloom that would have been passed down to her if she were a natural-born daughter of their house. In their hearts, they knew their mother would have never objected to her personal effects being passed down to someone so loved by them.

Jessica gave them both a glowing smile as she stood in front of Liam, who oversaw the proceeding. He looked at her signature, and his heart ached. It was signed as Jessica M. Garcia - Beaumont instead of Jessica Garcia - Rys. The document notarized in the house sigil a cephalopod instead of the sigil he yearned to give her his mother's house sigil a Phoenix. The Beaumont's were able to give her the things he couldn't. He gave her a soft smile, happy she was staying in Cordonia but uncertain of their fate by the end of the week, he would be married to Madeleine. He wanted so badly to abdicate in Italy, but she wouldn't allow it, and now the only way to love each other until he was free was to do so in secret.

Liam collected himself and said, "Lady Jessica of house Beaumont, you are now bound to this house not only by name and but by spirit. Cordonia welcomes you with open arms. I look forward to signing the order that makes you a subject loyal to its crown in due time."

She gave him a deep, flawlessly executed curtsy taught to her by Bertrand on her first night in Cordonia, Leo turned to them with a camera in hand and said, "Okay guys, big smile on the count of three say 'Swear Vest.'"

A rare proud smile formed on Bertrand's face as he got closer to Jessica, and both he and Maxwell placed their hands behind her waist.

Leo counted down "1 2 3."

Jessica, Maxwell, and Bertrand smiled as they said in unison 'Sweater Vest.'

*click*

Years later ...

Ramford

Jessica froze as she walked into the Beaumont Estate...So many memories coming back to her. Even more so when she saw Bertrand ordering a staff member at the staircase.

"Maxwell! There you are! Where have you been off-" He faltered as he turned towards them. He looked genuinely surprised for only a moment before schooling his features. His aristocratic training coming second nature.

"Ah, Lady Jessica...It seems you remember your way back."

Jessica came towards him, Maxwell right beside her. Bertrand scowled at his younger brother before barely suppressing his glare at Jessica.

"Bertrand-"

He caught her off with a polite raise of his hand.

"I do not care to hear any half apologies or excuses. You did what I suppose you needed to do. You just wanted a life of your own. Why you couldn't do it here will remain a mystery to me. I did, however, expect more from you."

His words cut deep before he sighed, his features softening.

She felt her chest ache when she saw the hurt in her old mentor's eyes.

"We never knew what happened to you or if you were okay… We waited for a letter, at the very least. I couldn't even find you a suitor to marry you into another house so you could stay and try to live life here. This house was broken and had no prestige; we had nothing to offer anyone."

Jessica felt offended at his accusation.

"What? Do you think it was about money?! Or prestige?! Damn it, Bertrand!- I would have married Liam if he was a regular guy; his status didn't matter to me."

He interrupted her with an enraged glare. "Why else would you abandon us?!" He argued.

"Bertrand-" Maxwell interjected but shut his mouth from a glare shot his way by his older brother.

"I love Liam. That's why! Because I couldn't share a life with him. Whatever we did have was only temporary until he ran back to being Madeleine's husband. I was not meant to be the other woman. I wanted to be the only one, but I couldn't. So, I wanted to try and see if I could find someone to share my life with or at least have some sort of purpose."

"All we knew was that we did EVERYTHING in our power to help you! You were our family. We accepted you not only into our home but our lives. All for you to leave without even a proper goodbye. It's Liam's place to tell you about his heartbreak, but it's my place to tell you about ours. Savannah, Bartie, Maxwell, and mine! You were close to all of us. My son looked for you, my wife cried over you, Maxwell found comfort with the loss of you with Drake. I had no one to talk to about how much you left a void in my heart. Again, another woman that just upped and left."

Jessica's stomach sank as she saw tears forming in Bertrand's eyes.

"Bertrand…" She whimpered, reaching out to him. He shrugged away from her.

Bertrand reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, and handed something to Jessica.

"You keep a photo of us in your wallet?" Jessica asked.

Bertrand looked at Jessica and said, "Yes. Since the day it was taken. It is what the American's do when they love someone. They carry pictures of people they love in their wallets to reminisce. I adopted the custom. I can't tell you how many times I found myself looking at that picture and wondering what life you made for yourself in our absence." His voice cracked. It made a tear escape her eye to gently fall down her cheek. Her heart hurt badly at seeing how painful her disappearance had made it for those she loved.

Jessica opened her wristlet purse and pulled out the same picture. "I spent the most meaningful years of my life here and learned so much. I hated walking away, and as the years passed, I held on to this picture, wondering if I could ever be your sister again."

Bertrand walked over to Jessica and gave her an embrace. They stood there silently, crying into each other's arms. He whispered to her, "Tungsten, you are where you belong." Jessica sniffled and whispered, 'Mr. Rogers. Thank you for loving me. I missed you all." After a few moments passed, another set of arms wrapped around them, and she could feel his warm tears on her as his soft voice spoke, 'Blossom, I'm glad my dance partner is back. It was never the same without you. '

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aurora-nova-fic · 1 year

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4, 5, 7, 15, 18 for the writing asks, if not too many. (Love me some process talk & much joy at the writing desk).

4. No outlines for me. I have a general idea in my head of where I want the story to go, but stories are like rivers: they change course naturally over time.

5. Environment-wise, I like to be comfortably seated with no distractions, without too much noise, and having no to-do list hanging over my head. (I don't write as well if I'm thinking about undone laundry, etc.)

I already answered 7 in a previous ask - popular question, probably because we all have our writing struggles and desperately need to know we're not alone. =) I'll say that after sex scenes, basic "they did this, they did that" can be a challenge sometimes. You know, in the course of a conversation characters are doing things and it's pedestrian but also important to establish. Those can slow me down.

15. A movie based on one of my fics? Hmm, that's a tough one, not least because I don't think most of my fics would lend themselves very well to Hollywood movies, to be honest. I spend too much time in my characters' heads. My DS9 Private Universe series remains one of my favorites, but I can't see it as a movie without losing everything I love about it. Hmm. Possibly my SG-1 fic These Demons? That's the one I started writing after reading one too many Jack/Daniel fics where true love proved an instant rape recovery, so I set out to show something more realistic. I would be happy to get the message of that story out to a wide audience.

18. A line/scene I'm really proud of... I'll do both. For a line, "Bashir, through years of stubbornly believing Garak capable of goodness and nobility despite all evidence to the contrary, had finally created a truth." I loved this line when I originally wrote it in a deleted scene for Revelation (One True Thing). Including a scene from Garak's POV messed with the mystery of the story, so I cut it, but I saved the line and was delighted to use it in a later story, The Apostasy of Elim Garak.

For a scene I'm really proud of, Julian and Garak's reunion in chapter 3 of Bittersweet Symphonies. I did not always write the series in order - in fact I started writing the part of the third installment where Garak finds out about Julian's genetic resequencing before I'd even finished the first story in the series - and I'd written a draft of this scene way ahead of time, but when I reached this point again I had to rewrite a lot of it. I wanted it to be deeply emotional but not sappy. I felt like this scene had a lot to live up to as an emotional climax, and very often I never feel like those scenes are quite as good as I'd like, but they never will be so it's time to send them out into the world. This one, though - this one was everything I wanted it to be, and I knew it because it basically flowed easily in one smooth writing session once I sat down to it again.

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whatdoesshedotothem · 2 years

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Tuesday 15 August 1837

8 25

12 50

A- poorly but in sorts peewee very fine morning F78°hangining out of my study window – sunny – at 9 35 at which hour breakfast – had stood reading as I dressed – Mudies’ popular mathematics – breakfast at 9 35 to 10 with A- and at 1st Mr. Gray – out at 10 ½ - till came in about 12 1/2 with Robert Mann, and John Booth and about all the morning – from 12 ¾ (10 minutes with Mr. Gray – he gave me a drawing of gallery adjoining west tower instead of East) from 12 ¾ to 2 10 sat reading attentively Mudies’ popular mathematics – then half hour writing part of rough draft of letter to Lady Stuart – from 2 ¾ to 3 ½ wrote a full ½ sheet and 2/3 of half sheet envelope of Letter to Lady Stuart in answer to hers received Saturday 5th instant and sending per Hope coach at 7 am tomorrow 5 brace of moorgame (came this morning from my keeper and blacksmith Jonas Ward) 3 brace for Lady S- herself and 2 brave to be forwarded to Lady S. de R- if easily within reach – if not lady S- to dispose of them as he liked – easy chitchat – always delighted to hear from her – sure of her being amused and happy now while she has dear Vere – ‘How it would delight me to be able to pop in upon you for a few hours! but I dare not think of it – I have so tied myself that I cannot move for the present – yet surely the time will come – I live in hope, or I should not live at all – I very little dreampt, on entering this and that during my poor aunt’s life, that the result would be the terrible trammelling I feel it now – But no matter – I must see it out – Only do not quite forget me, is all I ask – how very good of you to write me such an amusing letter! our young queen seems to acquit herself marvellously well – what a pity we have not been able to send her a greater majority of conservatives! our party seemed to count upon success for the country –the borough I myself had little hope of – our exertions were too late; and, as I thought and said long ago, our opposition was not well organized for the struggle we must all have known awaited us – the populace, not the property, of our borough is represented – but this cannot last forever – what is become of Lady Stuart de Rothesay? If she is within easy reach of a couple of brave of moorgame, may I ask you to be so good as forward them, keeping the other 3 brace for yourself; for, should Mr. Cameron supply you abundantly, your housekeeper may pot me, and I shall hope to be found good in one way or other – you have not mentioned Highcliffe lately – it must be a very handsome palace by this time – I feel for all who have workmen about their own especial home – it is my fifty to sixty ties of this sort, that bind me here so fast – the game will leave Halifax to the Hope coach at 7 tomorrow morning etc........ my love to Vere, and believe me, dearest Lady Stuart, very truly and very affectionately yours A. Lister’ – from 3 ½ to 5 ½ wrote letter to Messrs. Hammersleys thanks for their letter of 7 June last containing my account and mentioning that I had yesterday ordered the payment to them of £600 and that I should be much obliged to them to invest in my name for the use of the Infant Graham (vid. Business letter book) in 3p.c. [cons.] £424 and to receive the dividends and from time to time invest them so that they may accumulate till the child comes of 21 and can give me on my representatives a receipt for the money – and that I should be much obliged to them to pay Messrs. Ferrere Laffitte and co. 654 francs 10 cents to be paid on demand to M. Cusinberche aÎné of Rue St. Victor no.27 at Paris – i.e. 2 years’ rent and taxes of my little apartment from 15 May 1836 to 15 May 1838 – copied this letters into business letter book and the one written to Mr. Hodgson on Saturday – and wrote rough draft of letter to M. Cusinberche to go in a day or two, and wrote so far of today till now 5 35 – and then in 5 minutes ran out – went to the terrace tower – Nelsons’ 2 masons and 4 labourers gone – inquired – Robert Mann thankful they had all got off before I came – all quite drunk – had been drinking a footing all the afternoon – told Frank to tell Mr. Nelson to come and speak to me tomorrow and say I thought of summoning his men before the magistrates for drunkenness and making them pay the penalty – out about – had Joseph M- the wheelwrights had let the water on the wheel in too great quantity and the pentrough and ashler with the weight of water had given way! – Holt to be sent for, and come tomorrow and Mr. Gray and I to go and see what should be done – Frank hired by Greenwood and my leave me tomorrow – A- returned about (just before 7) from Crownest – will go again tomorrow – the Venetian blinds take a great deal of putting up! A- sadly tired and out of sorts – pother about the game – no hampers – 2 doz. marsala from Mr. Farrers’ at 30/.! instead of 24/. as from York put it in the cellar and got me port – dinner at 7 ¾ - A- just made coffee and went to bed at 9 – I went into the west tower and was musing and looking out of the south window when Mr. Gray called out how beautiful was the effect of my candle – had him with me sometime – he agrees we should not to cut too much into my room for head-room in the staircase

SH:7/ML/E/20/0112

George brought in the letter bad a little before 10 – Letter franked by Lord Stuart de Rothesay containing kind full ½ sheet from Lady Stuart and ditto ditto from Lady Vere Cameron Richmond Park – had sent off Frank my letter to ‘the honourable Lady Stuart’ undercover to ‘Lord Stuart de Rothesay Carlton house terrace London’ – saw John Booth pack (in the 2 hampers brought by Frank from H-x)with 2 brace of moorgame fine birds) 5 brace of moorgame for ‘the honourable Lady Stuart Richmond Park Surrey carriage paid 16 August’ and 5 birds (a brace for Mr. and Mrs. Duffin and a leash for IN-) for ‘Miss Norclffe Petergate, York Shibden hall 16 August’ Frank to take both hampers to the coach office before 7 tomorrow morning – the one for Lady Stuart to go by the Hope coach to London, and the other by the 1st coach to York – it was 10 50 before I had seen the birds done up and came upstairs – had just before given A- her 2 letters – then wrote 3 pp. of ½ sheet to IN- to go tomorrow morning – ‘Shibden Hall Tuesday evening 15 August 1837. my dearest Isabella – you have long since infected me with your bad example as to letter-writing, or rather its almost utter neglect – I can think of you with great pleasure – I can do anything rather than epistolize – I take no news for good news, and am satisfied of your being well and happy so long as I hear nothing to the contrary – if I had leisure, I ought to write, and would write to Mrs. Duffin to whom I have been long indebted for a long and very kind, and very amusing letter – my love to her and Mr. Duffin if you please, with a brace of the moorgame I have this moment direct to you, and a leash for yourself and Charlotte – I shall send the hamper by the earliest through-coach tomorrow morning, and my note by the morning mail, that I hope you will receive birds and writing long before tomorrow night at this time, 11pm. the moon shining brightly in at my blue room window and reproaching me with all the litter scattered in every direction – have you done your own house? I am far as ever from having where to lay my things in mine – From workmen at my own especial home, good Lord deliver me for evermore! I suppose Lawton-hall is likewise undone – we must all of us reconnoitre by and by – I am completely tethered by the leg – if you can write, let me hear from you; if not, never mind – I hope everybody at the Rectory is well, and everybody round about the minster, and everybody you know I care for in Micklegate – Miss is fast asleep in bed – my love to Charlotte, and believe me, my dearest Isabella, very affectionately and very faithfully yours AL’

Received today 1st brave of morrgame from Mr. Barber an neighbour at the Stump to whom I have given leave to shoot over my property

2nd ditto ditto from Mr. Atkinson to whom also I have given leave to short spirit merchant

very fine day F54° now at 11 ¾ just as I have written the last 12 lines of the last page and so far of this just 12 tonight when I took down my note to ‘Miss Norcliffe, Petergate, York’ 3pp. of ½ sheet to go by Frank to the p.o. at 6 am tomorrow

Frank day quitted my service this evening

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yubsie · 1 year

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2022 Fanfiction in Review

I am shamelessly stealing this format from @shenanigans-and-imagines because it was neat

Fics Written This Year

1. Old Fashioned Teenage Rebellion

(Star Wars, Hera and Breha hang out at a café while Sabine, Leia and Holdo run an op at a teen club)

2. All the Things he Didn’t Say (Star Wars, Bail and Hera discuss a lot of things during Rogue One... and don’t discuss many others

3. Just Because (Star Wars, Kanera, all the little moments matter more than the big gestures)

4. Alliance Regulation 327 Section Besh (Star Wars, Kanera, Sabine finds out that the second officer can officiate Kanan and Hera’s wedding and everyone argues over who that is)

5. Little Ship (Star Wars, text of an in universe picture book. Rogue Podron made me do it.)

6. Jappa Berry and Tuska Pear (Star Wars, Bail brings Owen a warning and Luke ice cream)

7. He Wanted to Say (Firefly, Zoe/Wash, Zoe loves Wash but is too stupid to realize it, Wash loves Zoe but is too stupid to say it, the narrator has had it with BOTH of them)

8. No Regrets (Star Wars, Han/Leia, Han says how he would have proposed if he’d taken the time to plan it. Rogue Podron made me do it.)

9. Best Laid Plans (Star Wars, Kanera. Sabine wants to know how Kanan proposed to Hera. He never had the chance, but he had ideas!)

10 We Need a LIttle... (Star Wars, Kanera, Kanan throws a every winter holiday at once party to boost morale)

11. Or the Order Will Come to You (Star Wars, Kanera, part one of the Shatterpoint Order AU in which Kanan lives and ends up rebuilding the Jedi Order based on what he learned because the Force isn’t giving him a choice)

Takeaways from reflecting on your kick-ass writing, or kick-ass lack of writing:

Wow, I wrote a lot this year. I did three different exchanges and really like what came out of each of them. Turns out I like writing to prompts as long as I’m not at risk of having to write a “The Cylons never attacked” AU!

The really wild thing is working on all this frankly incredibly self indulgent fic is that it’s been really energizing me to work on my original stuff as well. I’ve been getting a lot done on that side as well.

Most surprising fic you wrote this year:

Or the Order Will Come to You. Literally everything else in my profile is a oneshot. The last time I wrote a multi-chapter fic I was in high school (which is why it’s not on AO3), but then this absolute beast decided to happen. I’ve written several novel length drafts of original fiction, but this is the first time I ever had to get SCRIVENER out for a FANFIC.

How you grew as a writer this year:

I think the big thing is what I mentioned above about letting fanfic energize my original writing. Just constantly saying “If I don’t indulge me, who will?” lets me think more about what I want to do outside a fanfic space.

What’s coming in 2023:

Obviously more Shatterpoint. Five times Wes sat at Hobbie’s bedside and one time Hobbie sat at Wes’s. Also, believe it or not, there’s an E rated fic in the works where Chopper gets sick of the UST on the Ghost. There’s also a really angsty (with a happy ending) Kanera fic I’m planning but I”m not ready to go into detail about that one publicly yet.

#fanfic #year in review #shameless self promotion

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friendlytacosyumyum · 2 years

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Bakugo with a s/o that matches his personality

JWOEIDJ YOU KNOW ME OR A PERSONALITY LIKE MINE BASICALLU

oh BOY oh bOY oh boY

Bakugo x gn!reader

warnings: swearing

type: headcanons

a/n: WHHSJQJRW YOURE LITERALLY ON CRACK 24/7 HE WOULD HATE YOU

this has been sitting in my drafts for over a month LMAO soRRY- slowly working my way through the asks! apologies guys :)

- literally HATES you at first

- you were the new kid and everyone was crowding around you bc they were like "omg new student" IN THE MIDDLE OF HIS SENTENCE

- is like “who the fuck do they think they are?”

- thinks he’s better than you

- definitely shit-talks you WHENEVER possible

- doesn’t matter what it is, he has something to say about it

- you stole his spotlight once 💀💀 he came AFTER you ready to beat the shit out of you but then you were like “no hitting girls” and left before he could retort

- always tries to 1-up you

- oh you got a 97 on that test? he got a 100. you did good during training? he managed to create three new moves to use against you. your parents told you they were proud? his yelled at him-

- literally cannot handle your energy sometimes and regrets dating someone who has his temperament (you would never let him leave you tho <\3)

- if you're quiet sometimes he's internally freaking out bc it's like the calm before the storm. you're about to unleash a fucking tornado on him 100%

- you went off on him once for doing something and he didn’t even respond bc he thought you yelling at him was so hot

- “are you even fucking listening?”

“…no”

- when you two are paired for training the building gets destroyed. doesn’t matter what your quirk is, it somehow turns destructive when you’re sparring with him. aizawa says you’re not allowed to go against each other anymore :(

- you asked him if he would still love you if you were a worm. he said no. you got pissed. almost ended your relationship tbh (true story, i was there)

- hates letting you sleep in his room bc you make him stay up past his bedtime

- “one more episode!”

“it’s 9:30.”

“i will hit you with this remote goddammit- sit your ass back down and turn the lights off so we can finish this season before midnight.”

- the entire class saw you yelling at him and just sat there in awe

- you’ve earned the nickname “lion trainer” and whenever bakugo gets mad at someone they come and get you

- “uhhh… y/n? i told bakugo he looked like a pomeranian again…”

- you’ve saved denki’s life so many times- he can’t help but piss bakugo off and he consides you his guardian angel

- the class actually didn’t believe you two when you said you were together. literally just sorta laughed it off and were like “april fool’s is six months away, dumbasses”

- bakugo almost smacked the shit out of them, but you beat him to it 😌🥰

- loves doing missions with you bc you have no self-preservation. doesn’t stop you either. you wanna run into a burning building because there’s a dog trapped inside? he’s right beside you, ready to blow the fire up. you want to try to take down one of japan’s most notorious villains despite having less than three years of experience? he will support you until you fail (then he’ll laugh at you)

- sleep fights. unfortunately, you sleep-fight too, and aizawa has had to separate both of you several times because it got too intense.

- threaten to kill each other daily, i don’t make the rules

- “dumbass.”

“the fuck did you say to me? i’ll kill you.”

“not if i kill you first.”

overall very chaotic 10/10 i would like to watch you get into a fight with him bc i know you're a bad bitch who would win

#mha #bnha #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #reader insert #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #headcanons #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons

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rinkrats · 3 years

Text

anyway i’m not over this article so here are some things that made me :’)

1. ...this lanky Russian star from a small, industrial town sat with his left shoulder pressed against the right shoulder of the face of hockey, this sturdy son of a Canadian harbor town. They came from wildly different backgrounds but, at this very moment, were a singular force. In many ways, this is how it should’ve been after a decade together. Two generational players, gifted to the Penguins one year apart, primed to leave an indelible mark on hockey’s biggest stage.

2. “Sometimes stars aren’t close,” says Rick Tocchet, their former assistant coach. “But those two, you know, it made things easier because of how close they are. You don’t see that every day.”

3. While Malkin’s English was limited, his mutual understanding of Crosby — on and off the ice — was pure instinct from their first days together.

“We’ve been together for a really long time now,” Crosby said. “Now that I think about it, it’s hard to believe how long it’s been. And to be honest, we became friends at the very beginning and it’s just always been that way. His English wasn’t so great at first, but we just always understood each other from the beginning.”

“I like to think I can relate to the pressure that he deals with and the expectations that come with all of that pressure. We were both high draft picks and expected to do a lot of big things when we entered the league. You are happy and excited to be drafted that high, for sure. But at the same time, there is a different kind of pressure there. Geno and I have talked about it before and I think we just always have kind of had a sense for one another, when we’re up, when we’re down, what we’re dealing with.”

4. Having failed to bring the Penguins back to a Stanley Cup Final after playing in two during their first three seasons together, Crosby and Malkin each sensed their partnership could be the next casualty for continued postseason failures.“I of course worry because GM, coach and Nealer are gone,” Malkin said three years later. “Is not mad, but worry that maybe they say Sid and I can’t play together too. We have to win again, of course. To stay together, we have to win again.

“I tell Sid we have to win again because I always want to play with you.”

5. During his rookie season, Malkin often caught himself transfixed on a framed photograph that hung above an entranceway separating the home dressing room and player’s lounge at the old Civic Arena. The framed photograph showed Lemieux and Jaromir Jagr each gripping a side of the Cup that the Penguins won in 1991 and in 1992. On the day before Game 7 of the 2009 Stanley Cup Final in Detroit, Malkin was one of the last players to leave Civic Arena. Before he departed for the airport, he took one last look at that framed photo and told a reporter, “I want one of me and Sid.”

In the euphoric chaos of the on-ice celebration in Detroit the next night, Malkin and Crosby never managed to get that picture. No big deal. They were young. They were in charge. They would have many other chances. Or so they thought.

When the Penguins won their long-awaited second title of the Crosby/Malkin era in San Jose in 2016, they simply forgot again. Strike 2.There would be no Strike 3.

Malkin had instructed a team employee on the morning of Game 6 in Nashville to “get me and Sid with Cup if we win, no matter what.”

Lounging on a sofa with his injured toe resting on a table, dressed casually as if he had just warmed up for a tennis match against his actual brother, Malkin stroked his chin while looking at a digital picture of him and Crosby posing for the picture that had eluded them twice before.

“The best picture of my life,” Malkin says. “My two friends, and me.”

6. “I hope we win more,” Crosby said. “That’s always the goal. But no matter what, he’s my friend for life.”

7. At his apartment in Moscow, his offseason condominium on Florida’s Fisher Island and at his home in Pittsburgh, Malkin displays various memorabilia of Crosby. These include Russian nesting dolls painted in Crosby’s likeness, framed photographs, pucks and sticks from various games, anything and everything the most serious Crosby fan would want for his or her collection. Malkin jokes that Nikita, his son, will probably pick Crosby as his favorite player because of all the stuff.

“Is good,” Malkin said. “Of course, I will be his real favorite. But Sid is the best player, the best teammate. A great friend. I hope Nikita thinks of him as family. I do.”

Clearly, Crosby considers Malkin family.

“Having him around has always made my life better, on and off the ice,” Crosby said. “He has a way of knowing when to make you laugh, knowing when to lighten the room. But at the same time, he knows when to be serious, too. It’s just a great friendship. I just always liked him from the start. Always have. Always will.”

#PLEEEEASSEEEE #actual tears #sidney crosby #evgeni malkin #sidgeno #text #pittsburgh penguins #hockey

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randomshyperson · 3 years

Text

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Land of Thieves #ChapterOne

Western/ Red Dead Redemption AU / Slow Burn / childhood best friends to lovers

Gif is not mine.

Read on AO3 (English Version)

Ler no AO3 / “Terra de Ladrões” (Versão Português)

Chapter warnings: explicit language, explicit violence.

Word count for this chapter: 4002K

Summary: When you were a child, you swore that no matter how high the reward in your head, she could always count on you. Life as an outlaw in the west is not easy, but you believe that train robberies are still easier than asking a pretty girl to dance. Land of Thieves, also know as your love story with Wanda Maximoff in the Wild West.

Pt.1 || Pt. 2 || Pt. 3 || Pt.4 || Pt.5 || Pt.6 || Pt.7 || Pt.8 || Pt.9 || Pt.10 || Pt.11

You were covered in mud and blood when you entered the saloon. Curious and judgmental eyes turned to you, but you didn't stare back. Stretching your back, you felt your whole body ache; the recent beating was sure to leave marks. Walking over to the counter, you threw three gold coins onto the wood, muttering in a mumbled tone "bath" to the saloon keeper. He nodded slightly, showing you the way to the restrooms. As you washed up, you grumbled against the recent cuts, but you were happy to know that you hadn't been shot. Your body ached, but without bullet wounds, you would be better in no time. A pretty girl who worked in the saloon smiled at you when she took your muddy clothes to wash them, and you looked away blushing helplessly. She handed you new clothes before she left. When you finished your shower, you put on the white silk shirt, and beat-up jeans that were handed to you. The boots were not new, but they were comfortable. You also put on spurs, but they didn't give you suspenders, so you left the shirt loose against your body, enjoying the lightness. Attaching your holstered belt to your waist, you checked to be sure your Schofield revolver was clean and locked before you holstered it. You walked to the top floor of the saloon, ignoring the curious glances cast at you on the way. You hoped that no one would recognize you from the reward posters, but you weren't so sure about that, since your face was quite exposed without your hat, which must now be somewhere lost in the middle of New Elizabeth, or on some thief's head. Whistling softly, you walked to the saloon balcony, watching the town below. Valentine is a ranching town, small and not very crowded. Lots of pedestrians, you observe. You light a cigarette as you watch the citizens go about their mundane lives, many opportunities passing before your eyes. You let your gaze wander to the town bank, a few meters ahead on the right of the saloon. You notice that security is low. Making mental notes about everything you could observe from there, you put out your cigarette, returning to the lower part of the saloon, toward the counter. - A whiskey and a beef stew. - You grumble, handing the bartender some coins. He nods in agreement and in a few minutes you get your meal. While you are sitting at the farthest table in the room, you listen attentively to the conversation of two men at the poker table, who have caught your attention. - My cousin saw the carriages in Saint Denis. Four horses in each, and he said that the riders were armed to the teeth." - The skinny man commented excitedly, his friend didn't look so happy. - Those damned bankers are like pests of the soil. You saw what happened to that southern town, I think it was called White Gate. - commented the man with the mustache, his expression frowning. - After the oil ran out, everybody lost their jobs. Stark closed the mine and the citizens began to starve. Almost everyone moved to the neighboring towns. Stark. The name was not strange to you, but you could not tell exactly where you had heard it before. You finished your stew, deciding that Steve would want to know about both the bank and the possible rich men who were visiting the town. Finishing your whiskey in one gulp, you stood up, leaving the saloon just as you collected your freshly washed clothes from the same woman who had brought them. It was hot and humid outside. Knight, your Hungarian half-breed horse, grunted with delight when you stroked his mane. You smiled at him before you mounted. You rode south, figuring you would have no trouble finding the new camp site, and trying to remember Bucky's instructions about where exactly they were. It took some time, but you finally found the camp. You dismounted Knight as you entered the area between the trees, walking calmly to the largest tent. Steve Rogers was like a father to you. When your birth parents died of cholera, you ran away from the orphanage the government put you in, and started living on the streets. You were only seven years old, but you were smart enough to hide in one of the garbage carts when the nuns weren't looking, and you ran away because you couldn't stand being beaten by the older children and your own teachers. You ended up somewhere in West Elizabeth, and while trying to steal some food, you were chased by two officers. But just as they were about to catch up with you, someone knocked them out. You smiled when Steve held out a big piece of bread and water to you. From that moment on, you lived with him. The Avengers gang became your family. Steve took care of you, and trained you as an outlaw. You learned everything that was essential to survive in the Wild West, from hunting to murder. And as the years passed, other people joined the gang, and you accepted them all as your family. When Steve saw you, he smiled tenderly, wiping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief as he motioned for you to enter the tent. - So, kiddo, what did you find out in Valentine? - asked the man as you sat down in the opposite position, on a wooden chair. - They have a poorly protected bank. - You shrugged. - But you know how these small towns are, the risk is almost always not worth the gain. - That's too bad, we need money. Especially to buy medicine. You let out a low exclamation of agreement, you knew exactly how difficult the situation was. It had been a particularly difficult season for the gang. With Fury's death at the last service, and the move out of town to get away from the officers, you were still facing a wave of illness. Carol and Bruce had been feverish and bedridden for days, and Thor had been shot during an unsuccessful robbery. - I overheard an interesting conversation, though. - You say, and Steve looks at you curiously. - Some rich people are coming to Valentine in a few days. The name Stark was mentioned, have you ever heard of it? Steve's eyes widen in surprise and excitement. - Of course I have! - he exclaims. - Filthy rich folks there! Rich enough to lend us a little money without even noticing. - I think Stark is going to buy the oil mines at Heartlands. And he's staying in Valentine while he does the negotiations. - That's excellent. - Steve says, running his hand along his chin in a thoughtful expression. - If the deposit is made in Valentine, we will have the purchase money first hand. You nodded. - But even if the deposit is made here, the money is sure to be transferred to Saint Denis. - You retort, trying to think of all the details of the scam. - Which means that we have to steal the money the same day it is deposited, or we only stand a chance during the transfer. Steve stood up, walking around the tent with the same thoughtful expression on his face. - No, no. - He began to speak as if the alternatives were rapidly forming in his head. - The carriage will be extremely protected. In the gunfire, we can be very worried about not getting killed, which will give them a chance to escape to the city. And then we'll have no way to reach them there. You sighed, knowing that he was right. You frowned, trying to think of something, but Steve soon spoke again. - We need to do this while the money is in the bank. And we have to do it fast. - He says, and then walks to the edge of the hut, looking around the field. He whistles, attracting the attention of Peggy Carter, who is chopping wood, and when she raises her curious gaze to him, Steve beckons her to join him. - What is it, Rogers? - Peggy asks gently. You exchange a smile with her. - We've got a new hit. - He says, making room for Peggy to join you. - Is Bucky around? - He went out hunting a few minutes ago. The twins went with him. - Peggy says and you rest your face on your own hand, waiting for Steve to speak again. - Oh right. I'll explain the details to them later. - The blond man says, walking around the cabin to the table in the opposite corner, and he takes a pen and paper and begins to write down what you think of as a rough draft of the plan. - We will rob Valentine's bank then. - I thought that banks in small towns were not worth the risk. - Peggy commented with a slightly confused expression. - Ah, but we have a unique opportunity. - Steve remarked, bringing the doodle over to Peggy. - Howard Stark, big oil guy, is going to buy the Heartlands mines. The purchase money will be deposited in Valentine before being transferred to Saint Denis. I believe we will have about a few hours to rob the bank - Steve, are you sure this is a good idea? - Peggy assumed a worried posture. - We are short on snipers... - It's a great idea. - He interrupts, looking at Peggy seriously, but still maintaining a calm tone. - We need the money, Peggy. If this is planned correctly, we don't have to worry about the number of weapons. - I appreciate the confidence in my abilities, by the way. - You playfully push your shoulder lightly against Peggy, she smiles at you. - Of course I trust you, Y/N. - She answers, but her gaze is still worried. - We just need to be careful in this job. You spend the rest of the afternoon planning. It doesn't take long for Bucky to join you. He hands a deer carcass to Pietro, who carries it back to the supply hut. Steve repeats the plan, and you let your gaze drift quickly to Wanda, who smiles at you, and you feel something in your stomach drop. Blushing, you look away, turning your attention back to Steve. It is already night when you have finally finished working out the plan. Wanda and Pietro joined you at some point, and you had to mentally repeat to yourself to pay attention to Steve's words and not to the redheaded girl a few feet away. You didn't want your passion to cost your life or put everyone else in danger because you didn't absorb the plan correctly, but you were getting to this level of unfocused. You felt a light tug on your arm as you walked toward the fire, and found yourself smiling wryly as you faced Wanda already looking at you. - I got my first deer today. - She declared, looking up at you with bright eyes, a tone of pride and happiness in her voice. You raise your eyebrows in a pleased expression. - What? That's amazing, Wands. - You replied. - I told you that you would learn soon! I would have liked to have seen it. - We can hunt together. - She says, and you try not to show your nervousness at the thought of being alone with Wanda, but you don't disguise it very well, which makes Wanda confused, and she looks almost disappointed when she quickly adds - Pietro can come with us too. You blink a few times, believing her to be clarifying that she had no intention of spending time alone with you, and swallowing dryly, you nod in agreement. - Yes, yes. Sure, we should call him too. - You say taking a few steps back, hands in your pockets as you stare uncomfortably at the floor. Wanda bites her lower lip lightly, finding you extremely difficult to decipher. You spend a moment in silence, before she speaks again - We can go tomorrow afternoon if you have no business in town. You think about it for a moment, trying to remember if you had made any appointments, if any robbery opportunities had been signaled to you, but you can't think of anything. - No, it's fine. We can hunt tomorrow. - You say, trying not to be too embarrassed by the contented smile Wanda flashes at you. She was probably going to say it was marked, but Pietro interrupted the moment by extending a bowl of stew in front of her face. Wanda blinked a few times in confusion, but thanked her brother as soon as she grabbed the item. Pietro turned to you next, a relaxed posture as he took a sip of the beer he was holding. - What were you two talking about? - he asked, his tone curious. - It's rude to snoop, you know. - You teased, drawing a short laugh from Wanda, and Pietro rolled his eyes stubbornly, but smiled. - We're going hunting tomorrow. I'll show Y/N that I learned how to use the bow on some deer. - explained Wanda, looking at her brother. - Will you come with us? Pietro frowned, denying with his head. - Sorry, little sister. - He speaks seriously, but his eyes have a malice in them that you didn't know how to recognize. - I'd love to join you on your date, but I have an appointment. You and Wanda blush at the insinuation, but Pietro continues with a playful aura as he takes another sip of beer. Although embarrassed, you can't help but be happy to know that you would be spending some time alone with the girl. - Oh, all right. - Wanda says in what seems to be an attempt to sound disappointed, but her eyes sparkle slightly as she speaks. You don't notice, but Pietro smiles at the expression. - You're full of secrets lately. What kind of appointment? Pietro laughs, shrugging his shoulders. He walks toward you with a playful expression, and puts his arm around your shoulders, smiling at Wanda as he leans on you. - Your girlfriend taught me how to play poker and now I am famous, my presence is requested in Rhodes. I need to bet and win some money for this place. You choke slightly on the phrase and feel your face heat up, looking down at the floor. Wanda lets out a nervous laugh, and pushes her brother lightly, making him let go of you. - You mean lose money, don't you? - she teases. - Even Thor plays better than you, and he usually just flips the table. You laugh, risking a glance at Wanda, who has a reddened face and quickly exchanges a smile with you. Pietro rolls his eyes and walks past you, waving goodbye. Deciding that you should eat something, you nod to Wanda that you are going to the fire. She smiles and follows you silently

You didn't hunt very often. Although you were good at it, it was not your function in the camp. You were a gunslinger, and your jobs usually involved carriage robberies and trespassing, even the occasional robbery. You were always part of the team for the big scams. And then Wanda invited you to go deer hunting and you became an anxious mess. Stumbling out of your tent, you hurried to take a quick swim in the creek near the campground. It was important not to smell too strongly when you went out hunting, as the animals could more easily notice you. Coming out of the water with wet hair, you put on your clothes, leaving the suspenders hanging from your waist and a few buttons open on your shirt. You were feeling heated. You waited for Wanda at the campfire. She also bathed before meeting you, and she seemed slightly anxious when she found you. You smiled as you poured some coffee, and Wanda looked a little airy when she accepted the cup. You didn't understand why, but the sight of your relaxed appearance, your loose hair and your exposed collarbone was absolutely irresistible to her, making Wanda feel heated in places that were not appropriate. You joked that soon she would become the best hunter in the camp, and you were happy to make her smile. As you rode out of the camp, you smiled as you felt Wanda lightly tap her foot against yours, as you used to play with as children. Riding in silence for a few minutes, you enjoyed the gentle breeze until you came to a hunting spot. You descended from Knight slowly, stretching your body when you reached the ground. Wanda watched your shirt lift and reveal some skin, then she looked away quickly, her face red. You cast a curious look, thinking she was feeling heat. Grabbing your rifle stored on the horse, you watched Wanda take from Lily's saddle - her red sorrel - a longbow and some arrows. You walked in silence, heading for the shallow part of the creek beside you, where you could easily find deer. It was comfortable to be in Wanda's presence, even in silence. Neither of you had to say anything to know exactly what to do next, your body following her along the way as if you had done this many times before. One look and you knew when to wait, or when to be quiet. It didn't take long before you spotted the deer. There weren't many, and Wanda bent down in front of you to take aim. You watched her with admiration. She raised her bow, and you noticed the slight tremor in her hands and frowned. You came forward, also bent down, and stood beside her. - There's no need to be nervous, Wands. - You whispered softly. - It's just me. The trembling in their hands seemed to diminish, but it was still there. You moved closer, raising your hands to join Wanda's, helping her to keep a steady aim. - Take a deep breath. - You said against her ear, waiting for her to obey. - And then shoot. With her speech, Wanda let go. The arrow cut through the air with speed, hitting the animal straight in the head. A perfect shot. You smiled, and when you looked at Wanda, she was already looking at you. You were about to congratulate her on the shot, but Wanda hugged you by the neck, surprising you. You felt your face heat up and due to the shock, you didn't respond to the hug, your body seeming asleep for an instant. Wanda let you go quickly, her face flushed with apology. You were about to tell her it was okay, and maybe hug her back, then you heard an animalistic noise that attracted your full attention, a low growl that you knew all too well. Glad you had brought your rifle, you looked around, searching for the source of the noise. Wanda blinked curiously, but you didn't look at her again. Standing up, you held the rifle with both hands, your gaze roaming the surroundings. A moment later, the bushes a few feet away moved, and you watched the creature sneak through the undergrowth, only to run toward you the next second, preparing to jump. The sound of gunfire echoed for a few seconds after the shot. You let out the breath you were holding and watched the panther lying on the ground, just a few inches away from your feet. Wanda looked at you in shock, and you offered your hand to help her up. - Sorry for the scare. - You grumbled, walking towards the panther intent on retrieving the skin, which should be worth a few dozen dollars. - We always have to be careful not to become the prey during the hunt. - How did you hear it? - Wanda asked curiously. - Practice I guess. - You said, kneeling down beside the panther. - Every sound around us is important. - You explained - Pay attention now, for example. Besides my voice, what do you hear? Wanda seemed to think for a moment. - I can only hear water, I think. Maybe birds. - She confesses, you finish cutting the skin off the animal in front of you. - Oh, sorry. - You say quickly. - I forgot that I just drove all the animals away with the noise of the rifle. You laugh to yourself, and Wanda smiles at you tenderly. - Let's go after that deer. I'll teach you to hear the sounds another day. - You tell her as you stand up. Walking over to the dead deer, you observe Wanda kneeling beside the animal, drawing her own knife. - Bucky taught you how to skin? - you ask, watching the firm but still amateurish cut Wanda was giving the animal. - Yes, he told me to skin rabbits before he taught me to cut the deer during yesterday's hunt. - said the red-haired girl focused on the activity. You tried not to blush as you watched a drop of sweat trickle down your neck. - I learned to skin animals from him too. - You commented as you waited for Wanda to finish the task. - I was a little smaller, I think. - I guess it took long enough for us to learn how to hunt, didn't it? - Wanda joked, drawing a smile from you. It was true, hunting had been the last activity Steve and Bucky taught you. For some reason, teaching them to shoot was a higher priority than getting food from the wild. A moment later, Wanda finished, raising the deer leather in the air, showing off her work proudly. You laughed at her expression, signaling for her to step away from the animal. You handed her your rifle, and bent down, grabbing the carcass with both hands and throwing it over your shoulders to carry it to the horse. It was quite heavy, but you concentrated your breathing as Bucky had taught you, and managed to carry the animal to Wanda's sorrel. After placing the carcass on the back of the animal, you grunted when you saw the state of your shirt, completely covered in blood. - What's the matter? - Wanda asked curiously when she heard your sigh. - Pepper made me promise not to come covered in blood to the camp anymore. - You say, rolling up your sleeves. - She told me she would put me to sleep with the horses if I showed up like this again. Of course, she will probably just change my watch shifts, but it will still be a pain to hear the lecture. - You could have told me to carry the deer. - Wanda retorted, looking at you with a mixture of seriousness and guilt. You just smiled. - Don't be silly, I just need to clean up before I go back. - You said simply, and Wanda frowned in confusion. And then she choked in surprise, watching you pull your shirt over your head. You went around her body and towards the creek. It took Wanda a few seconds to snap out of her shock, then she turned her head toward the creek, her face flushed. You rubbed the fabric with your hands, watching the blood drip into the water. You put your shirt aside only to wet your own body, wiping any traces of blood from your skin. Completely oblivious to the shy mess Wanda had become as she watched you wash yourself. Finished cleaning yourself, you wrung out your shirt, getting as much water buildup out as possible. You put your clothes back on, feeling the damp fabric against your skin. Wanda stood in the same place you had left her, and you frowned when you saw her look quickly away from you, her face red. You suddenly felt very embarrassed, thinking that you must have crossed some boundary with her. Coughing awkwardly, you walked toward your own horse. You rode in silence back to the camp, you mentally going over the whole conversation trying to find what you had done wrong that made Wanda so quiet. You were surprised when you heard her singing softly. Smiling without looking at her, you slowed down the speed of Knight's gallop, trying to enjoy the moment to the fullest. Wanda continued to sing the whole way, and you tried to ignore the feeling of butterflies in your stomach

#wanda maximoff x reader #marvel reader insert #western au #wanda maximoff #wanda x you #wanda x reader #marvel imagines #red dead redemption au #Land of Thieves

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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

Text

A Surrealistic Life (Adrenaline Junkie Part 17)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: swearing, derealization, depression, grief, blood, mentions of death, nightmares, panic attacks

Word count: 3,385

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

You cried in Philza’s arms for hours on end until you couldn’t cry anymore. Your head was left pounding and your throat scratchy from the loud crying, but you didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore, without Arthur you were nothing. The past two and a half years just- just didn’t exist. Your mind was still reeling, the words ‘will you always be with me?’ echoing through your mind constantly filling you with guilt.

With one last shuddering inhale, you separated yourself from Philza and wiped at the tears that had long since dried on your face. His eyes, vigilant as ever, scanned your form looking for any sign of distress. In his eyes, you saw pity and grief. This angered you, you didn’t need his pity; you were long past the point of pitiful glances. Well, you were, he wasn’t.

You purse your lips as you watch his eyes flick between your wing and where your other wing was supposed to be. Sorrow flashes in his eyes before he looks back at you with a small, painfully fake smile. With one hand, he gently pushes your shoulder down back onto the bed and stands up.

“I’ll be back, you get some rest.”

With the slightest hint of a nod, you watched as he lingered in the doorway before hesitantly walking out of your room. After he left your room, you locked the door behind him. That door remained locked for weeks on end, every knock or attempt at conversation was never answered by you. Their words were nothing but background noise in the back of your mind.

Instead of responding, you would lay in bed staring at the ceiling with unfocused eyes thinking about nothing but everything you’ve lost. Only occasionally you would leave your room to attend to your most basic needs when you were sure that everybody was asleep or out of the house.

The days meshed together as your thoughts consume you in a whirlwind of unorganized messes. Several times, you’ve worked yourself into panic attacks and paranoia filled spiraling because you didn’t know what was real anymore.

Being left alone with your thoughts was something that you always avoided by constantly tinkering with contraptions, your thoughts wandered off to places that greatly disturbed you. But now, you let those thoughts wash over you without a care. Your dreams reflected this; they were plagued with images of Arthur looking up at you with large puppy dog eyes and a large smile before he would be sucked into darkness screaming for you to help him, to do anything, but you were always glued in place leaving you to watch helplessly as he left you over and over again.

Another common one you would have is Arthur getting lost in a bellowing snowstorm in the dead of night. You would be wandering through thick snow calling his name until you would come across a small, pale hand peeking out of an abnormal lump of snow; dread would always fill you during those dreams, it was a parent’s worst nightmare to lose their child.

Other dreams, though very rare, would be pleasant; whether they were about you and Arthur whistling a small tune as you both invented something or a small picnic on the cliff laughing freely into the air, you would always wake up in the mornings prepared to greet him and cook breakfast with him. It wasn’t until you moved your right arm and found that it had limited mobility that you realized that everything was a dream.

You hated those dreams, they always gave you a false sense of hope that everything was okay. Nothing is okay, absolutely nothing.

You refused to believe that… whatever was going on didn’t happen; Philza had said that the last few years had been fake, something that your mind had made up as some form of coping mechanism, but who’s to say that this isn’t a hallucination as well? Both your experiences felt completely different from each other, this reality could be the hallucination for all you knew.

The only thing on your mind was how you needed to get back to Arthur in any possible way you could. If Arthur didn’t exist in this reality, you didn’t want to be in it. You need him and he needs you, you didn’t want to imagine a reality without him. If you got yourself into this by dying, perhaps that was your ticket back to him. Perhaps there was a way to reverse this.

You were going to get your son back, and you were going to die trying.

Until then, you just have to wait out your family. They’d just stop you in the end and you couldn’t have that. You’d have to put on an act that you were perfectly fine and that would entail inventing everything over again, but you were fine with that; if you made it once, you can make it again.

With a newfound sense of purpose, you searched your closet for your old cloak but then you remembered you got your cloak weeks after your first death. Groaning to yourself, you settled for your old bomber jacket. The slits in the back of it wouldn’t cover your nub, so you awkwardly tucked it underneath the fabric of the cloth. It shot pain down your spine, but you shook it off; the pain was something you could handle, you’ve had worse.

Without another thought, you quietly left your room with only one destination in mind.

--------------------------------------------------

You softly padded down the basement stairs towards your workshop. When you arrived at the bottom of the stairs, you paused and looked around. The walls that were once covered with sloppy sketches and words written in two different handwritings, both equally as messy and rushed, were barren for the most part; you forgot that the walls were painted an off white color. Your filing cabinets were gone, replaced with cardboard boxes containing old clothes and toys with thick layers of dust sitting peacefully on top of them. The crafting table sat in the corner of the room wasn’t worn, in fact it looked brand new, not a scratch could be seen on the surface.

Everything was wrong.

You numbly walked over to your desk and picked up the paper that laid on it, holding it up to the light. It was the first draft to your TNT launcher. The sight of the crude, minimal sketches made you cringe, it was far too messy; you had no idea how you could make out what your sloppy handwriting pointed to or what materials were supposed to go where.

You dropped the paper and let it flutter to the floor without a care. Your eyes flickered over the desk and eyed the notebook sitting on top of a stack of spare papers. A spark of hope ignited inside of you, this was the notebook Arthur so often doodled in with different ideas of what could be invented.

You snatched it and flipped the front cover over with haste. A wide smile stretched your lips when you caught sight of the small handwriting that littered the page. It was yours, but you had given it to Arthur so that he could learn and copy from your early years. It was perfect for a blueprint template, neat and organized.

However as you flipped through the book, your smile dropped and the little hope that flared in your chest was snuffed out. You stared at the blank page as frustration built up inside of you. Before you knew it, you threw the notebook at the opposite wall as hard as you could. You were left standing in the middle of the cold basement with your chest heaving and your teeth gritted.

Everything was so wrong. So, so wrong.

You heard footsteps thunder down the stairs before they came to a stop behind you. Hesitant footsteps made their way over to you, you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was.

“(Y/n)? Is everything-”

“Nothing is okay, Tommy,” you gritted out, “absolutely nothing about this is okay.”

He said nothing as he walked around you and put his hand on your clenched fist, his fingers curling around yours and opening your hand. Your palm stung slightly as you glanced down at it. Four small, crescent shaped cuts were imprinted on your skin slowly starting to glisten with blood.

Huffing, you ripped your hand out of his grasp and glanced at his face. You caught yourself doing a double take as you saw just how innocent he looked. No sign of hidden pain in his shining blue eyes, no scars littering his skin, and the bags that once made him look years older was nonexistent. He was your annoying, gremlin of a little brother again. He was Tommy again.

You watched as his eyebrows furrowed and his head tilted slightly, “why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason,” you breathed out before you shook your head trying to rid your mind of your frustrations, “no reason at all…”

He awkwardly coughed and nodded slightly, “right…”

You cleared your throat and glanced off to the side at the book laying on the floor. Tommy’s eyes followed where you were looking and went to pick it up. You felt a twinge in your heart as he started to flip through it much like you did earlier. He looked up at you with furrowed brows, “why’d you throw this? What’d the book do to you?” He jokingly asked you.

“It didn’t do anything and that’s the problem,” you mumbled out before you snatched the book out of his hands and tossed it into the trash can.

“Why are you acting so weird? I know you just died and all, but you never let that notebook out of your sight and now you’re just tossing it into the bin!” Tommy fished it out of the trash can and haphazardly placed it back onto your desk on top of the stack of unused paper. You could feel your eye twitch at it’s placement before you threw it away again.

“Leave it there, I don’t want it. I won’t need it anymore anyways,” you murmured under your breath.

“Why wouldn’t you need it- wait, don’t tell me you’re quitting working with redstone. Cuz I’ll have you know that you’re going to be the best goddamned inventor this gods forsaken world has ever known and-”

“I’m not going to quit,” you interrupted him, “trust me, I’ll need whatever I can make. I just… don’t need it anymore, I already know exactly what I need to make.” I can’t stand the sight of Arthur’s notebook so empty and blank your mind supplied yourself.

He tilted his head slightly, “even without the bluepri-”

“Even without the blueprints,” you curtly nodded and automatically turned to look at the bulletin board hanging above your desk only to sigh when you once again saw that it was barren. “I made these things thousands of times before, I know what I’m doing,” your gaze zeroed in on the half finished blueprint for your automatic crossbow, “I’ll just make them again.”

Tommy once again looked at you with furrowed brows and inquisitive eyes, you could just see the curiosity and confusion swimming around in his baby blue orbs, “what do you mean, you literally only have one prototype of everything on here.”

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you, so just drop it.” You hadn’t meant to snap at him like that, but the frustration was just too overwhelming to ignore. Just as you could see him start to get dejected from the corner of your eye, you made quick work of changing the subject.

“You know, I could hear what you said when I wasn’t awake. I really appreciated the music, it was a nice change of pace.”

He tensed before his eyes were drawn to the empty space over your shoulder. His breath hitched slightly as a sorrowful look appeared in his eyes. Looking back at you, he grabbed your shoulder and pulled you into a tight hug. You didn’t struggle against him despite your frustrations, you knew he needed you right now. You could still remember how broken he was when you were unconscious. The way his lip wobbled slightly before he hugged you reminded you of Arthur.

You gently hugged him back and wrapped your wing around him. He gripped you tighter, his breath shuddering as wetness started to hit your head. You said nothing as you started to hum and run your fingers along his back tracing out patterns without a particular one in mind.

Eventually, he pulled away from you and chuckled sardonically, wiping his tears away with a fist, “you’re the one who died and I’m the one being comforted. Gods, it’s pathetic.”

“It’s okay to feel emotions, Tommy. You should never bottle them up, it sounded like you needed a good hug anyways. I’m happy to give you that,” you softly told him.

He said nothing as he crossed his arms and shifted on his feet, avoiding your gaze. For a moment, your tall brother was replaced by a short, red haired boy wearing that same expression. You purse your lips in thought, your previous frustrations completely gone and replaced with an urge to comfort him or at least distract him. Though a deep sadness dragged your body down at the thought of Arthur, Tommy just reminded you too much of him. It was eerily uncanny in your opinion.

Ideas swarmed your head as you thought back to how you comforted Arthur when he fell down. Besides talking to him, you would always teach him something; knowledge to Arthur is- was like a sponge absorbing water. It gave him a distraction to whatever got him down, maybe that would work for Tommy as well.

Wordlessly, you walked over to your desk and gestured for him to follow you. You plopped him into your office chair and pulled one of the cardboard boxes up to the desk. In the process, you grabbed your gloves, goggles, and everything you would need to set up a simple timed piston. The smallest spark of happiness flashed inside you as you saw that your resources were fully stocked.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, Tommy, I’m going to show you how to set up one of my favorite redstone mechanisms. Put these on,” you handed him the gloves and goggles and watched as he put them on. The goggles were a bit small on him, but besides that, everything fit him.

“Now, you’re going to want to…”

--------------------------------------------------

Hours passed as you both worked together on the contraption. Slowly, you could see Tommy loosening up and making more jokes, successfully distracted. However, you didn’t expect yourself to follow suit. Laughter came easier to you whenever Tommy would joke around, your troubles long forgotten.

It took a little longer than you were used to, but eventually Tommy started to follow along with the precision you’d expect from a beginner. Slowly but surely, with many mistakes along the way, there was a working piston system sitting on the desk.

Tommy triumphantly laughed into the air as he watched the pistons work in tandem with one another. You laughed alongside him and ruffled his hair, “nice job, Artie! I knew you could do it!”

Tommy completely stopped and looked at you in confusion, “‘Artie’? Who’s that?”

You completely froze in place, you hadn’t meant to call him Artie. He was Tommy, he was your blond little brother, not your ginger son. Tommy was his own person, he was Tommy, not Arthur. You mentally scolded yourself for constantly mixing the two up.

“Artie is- well, he’s just… Arthur is my old friend,” you stammered out after tripping over your words clumsily. Tommy couldn’t find out about Arthur, nobody could. That’d just ruin your plan.

He snorted, “sure, ‘old friend’. You know, if Dad finds out that you’re dating someone he’d ground you for life.”

“I’d never date anybody, you know that,” you scolded him with your nose wrinkled in disgust. “He’s just an old friend and you remind me of him.”

“Well, old friend or not, he sounds amazing if I remind you of him!”

You smiled sadly as your mind flashed to images of Arthur at various points in his life, “he really was, you would’ve loved him, Tommy. He might’ve been the best person I’ve ever met.”

“Why don’t you tell me about him? I can preen your wings-” Tommy abruptly stopped himself and looked like he’d just accidentally kicked a puppy, looking at you with wide eyes and red tinted cheeks.

Just as he started opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, you chuckled at his expression, “you’re fine, Tommy. It’s just going to take some time for you to get used to this,” you shifted your wing and cringed at the uncomfortable feeling. You haven’t preened your wings since before you left for the cave nearly two months ago, and your wing was a mess of bent and loose feathers. “I’d… actually like a good preening, are you sure you know how to do it?”

“Please,” he scoffed before pushing you to sit down in your desk chair, “I’ve seen you and Dad do it to each other thousands of times, I think I know what I’m doing.”

“That isn’t how that- you know what? Just go ahead. Make sure you get any loose feathers and straighten them out,” you stretched your wing out and hoped for the best. Tommy surprisingly did a decent job of straightening out feathers, he just had to work on distinguishing loose feathers from intact feathers (you were now missing a couple of smaller feathers).

The entire time, you were telling him how amazing your boy was. Sure, you might’ve overexaggerated just a little bit, but Arthur was certainly someone that deserved the praise. That kid was something else, truly a prodigy at both redstone and compassion. Leaving out the fact that Arthur was your adopted son and that he was ten years old was a little hard, but you managed to avoid that.

You could tell that Tommy knew something was different about you, but you guessed that he just assumed the changes were because of your death and not because you were technically two and a half years older than you physically are.

When he was done, you looked at your wing and you were pleasantly surprised at how well he did; sure there were a few loose feathers and they were partially crooked, but you could tell that Tommy did his best with them.

“Thanks, Toms,” you smiled at him after you tucked your wing back in, “I really appreciate you doing that, it was starting to bother me.”

“It’s no problem,” he puffed out his chest in pride, “I told you I knew what I was doing.”

“And I’m sorry for ever doubting you. Who knows, maybe Dad’ll let you do his wings next.”

“Oh gods no,” Tommy shuddered slightly, “his are massive and he has two of them! If doing yours took me an hour and a half, I’d hate to see how long it’d take me to do his.”

You cringed, remembering the last time you preened his wings. Though you were experienced, it had taken you two full hours for each wing. “Yeah, his wings are huge. Gods, I hope my wing doesn’t get to be that size.” Though they grew to be nowhere near Philza’s wingspan when you were in that reality, you weren’t sure if yours was going to be larger or smaller than what they were.

Just as Tommy was about to open his mouth to respond to you, Wilbur’s voice echoed down the stairwell, “Tommy, dinnertime!”

“Well c’mon then, let’s go. I’ll race you there,” was all Tommy said to you before he bolted up the stairs with a booming laugh, skipping every third step. You could feel your heart stop when he almost tripped on one of the stairs because he skipped too many. Rushing after him, you shouted at him, “Tommy, walk! You’re going to break your neck if you keep running up and down the stairs!”

�� ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

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floralseokjin · 3 years

Text

⤑ made-up love song drabbles

First date: Seokjin’s POV

kim seokjin x reader warnings; none! words; 2,196 words

↪︎ read the series here / and drabbles here

Seokjin felt like a drink. It was nine o’clock in the morning, so absolutely out of the question, but it didn’t stop him from craving it. Whiskey. Definitely whiskey. Nana’s PA had just been to pick up Arin for the weekend – Thank God. Finally she would be able to spend time with her mom after a month, which he was over the moon about, and selfishly, that meant his date with you could go ahead. Even if he was so nervous he could throw up.

Work had been a great distraction for the past two days but once he’d woken up this morning the realisation had dawned on him. He was going on a date tonight. His first in a decade. He still couldn’t believe he’d actually gone through with it and asked you to dinner. He’d faced his fears, possibly made a fool of himself and shared too much about his personal life in the process, but you hadn’t seemed to mind at all. You were so easy to talk to, it was refreshing. He’d felt brave for the first time in months – years. But it still didn’t stop him from being on pins as soon as he’d opened his eyes this morning.

He’d showered early, just after Arin had woken up and then he’d helped her get ready for the day too, allowing her to eat her breakfast in front of the television as he tried to swallow down his bowl of porridge too. It tasted like cardboard – but then again, it might have been his cooking. Misook usually made the food around her, when he wasn’t dining out or ordering take out of course.

Arin had noticed his strange mood straight away. Obviously.

“Daddy, what’s wrong with you this morning?” She’d asked, looking over at him warily before hesitating. “I am spending the weekend with mom, right?”

“Of course you are, sweetie” he’d rushed, shaking away the surge of anger he’d felt. It pained him to know she was always expecting the worst lately. “Your mom just text me to say Jia is on her way.”

She’d smiled then, her face lighting up and he couldn’t help but match it, his nerves disappearing for a while. That was until he was left all alone, the house now empty and silent. He eyed the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter (where he’d left it after his small nightcap last night) and shook his head. He should drop you a text, just to check in and see if you were still on for tonight. He needed to find out what time to pick you up anyway. He probably should have messaged you the day before, he panicked suddenly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled his phone from his sweatpants pocket. Oh well, there was no time for regrets, that’s what his father always said.

It took him at least ten minutes to figure out what to say. His first draft sounded too cheerful, too false, he was trying way too hard and had added an examination point. His second was too formal, fifteen years of sending business emails back and forth obvious. He settled on something in the middle – he hoped.

Unknown (9:32am) Hi Y/N, It’s Kim Seokjin, Arin’s father. Just wondering if you still want to have dinner tonight? If so, please let me know and I will send through the restaurant details. We can decide on a time for me to pick you up. Regards, Seokjin

Only, reading it back after he hit send he began to second guess himself. Of course you knew who he was, his confidence might be lacking a little right now but he knew he wasn’t totally forgettable. What an idiot. Not that he could do much, there was no turning back. He’d committed.

He busied himself with a bit of Saturday morning cleaning while he waited for your reply, and by that he meant straightening up the pillows he and Arin had been sitting against earlier. When he returned to the kitchen, your message was waiting for him.

You (9:43am) Of course, send the details. I trust your taste!

See, exclamation points suited you. It was cute. He could just imagine you saying it in person, your dazzling smile, maybe that little giggle you’d made a few times on Wednesday. He felt something warm in his chest as he got lost in his thoughts, nerves easing once again. You were excited for tonight, he told himself. Maybe you were even just as nervous as him possibly…

He spent yet another few minutes composing his reply. A lot more casual this time, signing off with just his name. He didn’t always text like this, Namjoon could vouch for him, but he didn’t think you were both quite there yet. He wanted to show his best self after all. He wanted to impress you. He wanted to make you like him as much as he liked you.

Seokjin (9:50am) The sudden pressure… The restaurant’s name is KIM. I hope you like it. Is 7 alright to pick you up? I made reservations for 7:30. Seokjin

In truth, this restaurant was one he co-owned with his brother. Seokchul was the executive chef and they were both very proud of how successful their business venture had become. He knew taking you to such a place might seem like a cop-out – or worse, a brag – but that wasn’t the case at all. He wanted to treat you in a place that meant a lot to him. He could have chosen multiple restaurants, he was a regular at quite a few and could easily get a great table, but see, that did seem like he was showing off and he did not want to give you that impression at all. It was the complete opposite of his personality. KIM was a good choice, he was sure of it, and it helped that his brother didn’t work weekends, so there was no risk of bumping into him. Although, he had let him know about the date (and had begged him not to spill to their mother).

You (9:52am) I will. 7 sounds perfect. I’ll send through my address. See you later!

You followed up with a Google Maps link to your home, and he sent a quick thank you – sans his name this time. With a quick sigh he pocketed his phone again, it was time to get on with his day. He had some paperwork from yesterday to complete by Monday morning so he should probably make a start. He stopped to order a light lunch at midday, ate it as he scrolled through his very limited social media before getting back to it.

He called it a day around 3pm, a call from his mom interrupting his flow. He spent an hour talking, their weekend phone calls were habitual by now and he enjoyed them immensely. He loved his father of course, but their conversations mostly revolved around work. Despite stepping down as CEO three years ago, he was still a vital member of the company, and Seokjin continued to consult him at every opportunity and lean on him for support when things got stressful. With his mom, she was the woman he could still be a kid around. They could talk about anything and everything, but for her own benefit he left out his plans for tonight. He knew what she was like, she’d get way too excited and overwhelmed and before long she’d be sobbing down the line while simultaneously asking to meet you. She’d been wanting him to meet someone new for so long, much like Mrs. Shin. It was a surprise the two women weren’t conspiring behind his back.

No, he’d keep it a secret for now. If things went well tonight, then possibly his mother would get to find out. He wasn’t getting his hopes up though – or at least he was trying not to.

It was just after four when he got off the phone, too early to start getting ready just yet, so he sat in front of the television and tried to concentrate on a series he’d recently started. (It wasn’t going well. He was on about one episode a week out of a nine season TV show.) It was no use though, the nerves were rearing their ugly head again.

He decided to choose his outfit. Seokjin wasn’t much of a thinker when it came to fashion, he just grabbed whatever he saw first that morning, but tonight he wanted to at least put some effort in. After much deliberation he decided on a navy two piece paired with a white dress shirt. It wasn’t over the top, he thought, but nice enough to make that impression that was so very important to him. He kept his hair simple. He’d managed to squeeze in a haircut yesterday so it made things easier, but upon closer inspection in the mirror he noticed those pesky grey hairs of his glittering in the sunlight. He grimaced, worried now. He didn’t know your exact age yet, but it was obvious he was a few years older than you. He was no spring chicken, especially with those wrinkles around his eyes. He had been called handsome all his life, no stranger to it, but right now he was dubious.

He pushed his trivial concerns away and concentrated on the next decision. What car he would take. He didn’t want to go too flash – again with the showing off thing – so the Aston Martin was definitely off the cards. He hadn’t actually driven that one much, going through some sort of so-called midlife crisis when he’d bought it straight after his divorce, so he made a mental note to take it out next weekend. He decided on the Mercedes convertible (roof on, of course). It seemed like a suitable choice, not too flashy at all really. He didn’t want to run the risk of putting you off him or overwhelming you with showy displays. He was well aware of the differences between your lifestyles, not that he cared at all, but it didn’t stop him from understanding. The things that seemed slight to him could very well be enormous for you. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable in any way, shape or form.

Shit, on second thoughts maybe his restaurant was a bad idea…

Seokjin was always punctual, he prided himself on it, but tonight it made him nervous. He’d said 7 but it had only just gone quarter to. He couldn’t very well stay in the car for fifteen minutes, you’d spot him out the window, so ever so slowly he opened his car door and stepped out, his heart thudding against his ribcage. He was sure he noticed his hand shaking as he closed it behind him. He was such a mess it was embarrassing.

You lived in a nice little neighbourhood, it seemed quiet, and he admired your pots of flowers in the patch of garden you had as he made his way up the path that led to your front door. He took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell, adjusting his suit jacket as he waited for you to open up. It’s fine, Seokjin, he told himself. It’s just dinner. You’ve done much scarier things in your life. Pull yourself together, man.

A few seconds later the door opened in front of him and you came into view, looking as beautiful as ever. I’m fucked, he thought immediately.

“Hi,“ he forced himself to say as he smiled. He was probably staring but he couldn’t help himself. You looked stunning, your dress deep red in colour and incredibly flattering. His throat felt dry and he swallowed quickly.

“Hey,” you greeted back.

“You look beautiful,“ he couldn’t help but awe, hoping he wasn’t stepping out of line with his compliment.

"Thank you,” you smiled almost shyly. It was adorable. “You look…really good.“

He couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that, aware the sound was probably highly unfaltering, but he couldn’t help it. "I’ll take it. Thanks.” He tilted his head to the right then, composing himself. “Are you ready to go? I’m a bit early, I know. Sorry about that."

He really couldn’t tear himself away from your beauty, but luckily you didn’t seem to notice, busy nodding as you clutched your purse to your side. "I, uh… I would invite you in to kill time but my best friend’s embarrassing.” Your voice raised as you continued, your head turning slightly down the hallway.

He raised an eyebrow, a little confused, but he guessed said best friend was in the house somewhere? He smiled and shook his head. “It’s fine.”

As you stepped forward, a breath of a chuckle slipping from your throat, he moved to the side, outstretching his arm to let you lead the way. You accepted with a brief nod of your head, your gazes catching for a split second. God, you were gorgeous.

His nerves might have eased a tad, but his heart was still beating just as fast – if not more.

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #mls:drabbles #fic:mls #floralseokjin:writings

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cherrynojutsu · 3 years

Text

Title: Years Past

Summary: Sakura haunts their small home in grief, feeling already a ghost even while surrounded with beautiful raven-haired children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. As she sees each and every one of them over the months that follow, a select few stare back with her own eyes. Most of them are so like her husband's, though, luciform soot flecked with silver, and she feels so sorry when she looks too long and starts to cry. Romance, Character Death, Sad With a Happy Ending, Sakura POV.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: T

A/N: A little late to this prompt, but better late than never, I suppose. This has been sitting in my drafts since June, but reading it made me emotional and I got distracted by writing things for Like Gold. I apologize for the tardiness!

Sasusaku Month 2021, Day 7 Prompt: Years Past @ssskmonth

AO3 Link - FF.net Link

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Sakura passes in her sleep, marcid and weary of a broken heart and missing mismatched eyes, at the age of eighty-two.

It is longer than most Shinobi make it by far, but she doesn't feel very grateful for it, in the last five excruciating months of her life.

Her husband hadn't made it to eighty-two; Sasuke-kun passed in December. It had been peaceful, all three of their children, most of their grandchildren, and even some great grandchildren, the ones not on missions outside of the village, at his bedside.

Sakura had been there, too, old and frail and holding his hand. She'd kissed him goodbye tearily, sensing it was almost time after decades of watching it happen to others inside secluded hospital walls. It had been in front of nearly all of their descendants, family the only thing helping to hold her together in his final moments.

He hadn't complained. He'd kissed her back, for everyone to see, and Sarada and the twins had started crying, then, squeezing their hands around those of their parents, because they knew it really was time.

He had thanked her, said her name one last time, all equanimity even then. Then, so softly, "I love you. I'll see you next time," before he went, bones settling wearily at long last.

There had been melancholy in his expression even in death, wrinkled skin turning glaucous and beginning to sag against old, hardened muscle.

Sasuke-kun was buried next to Itachi’s memorial. There is a plot he saved for her on his other side, his right arm, the hand she held so many times in life.

Sakura haunts their small home in grief, feeling already a ghost even while surrounded with beautiful raven-haired children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. As she sees each and every one of them over the months that follow, a select few stare back with her own eyes. Most of them are so like her husband's, though, luciform soot flecked with silver, and she feels so sorry when she looks too long and starts to cry. Little Satoko, their newest great-grandchild all of eleven months old who she dotes on endlessly, reaches at her wrinkled cheeks to try to wipe them dry, babbling out a garbled version of "Oobasan, no cwy." He is talking earlier than most babies, stormy eyes eerily full of awareness and an endless lineage, just like Sarada at that age. Sakura laughs as she sobs, cradling him close to her heart, and looking out her window at their daughter's visage on the mountain. It is also Satoko's grandmother's image; it is hard to believe their sweet little baby is now old enough to be a grandmother. She remembers the first time Sarada had smiled at Sasuke-kun, the first time he held her at only an hour old, and he broke down sobbing.

She makes the trek to Sasuke-kun's grave every day for 138 days, each step an arduous agony, before stooping down to lay a fresh daffodil atop the soil where her husband's bones rest. She has also planted white lilies around his headstone, the same as those that surround Itachi's and the Uchiha Memorial Stone. Her children help her keep them watered as needed through a short spring drought; she is too old to carry a watering can now without spilling.

She misses him. It hurts worse than Sasori's poison or Madara stabbing her or giving birth or a giant shuriken nearly cleaving her in two.

There is joy to be found in the desolation, too, in her last few months of life. Their progenies throw her a birthday party like none other, and she eats her fill of cake while watching little hands eat some, too. Little Satoko dances, or moreso balters, with Sarada in time to a dramatic song he finds by pressing buttons on the radio; it is not a very appropriate tune for a dance with a toddler, all clumsy crescendo and orchestra, but amusing all the same. Sasuke-kun would have smiled, if he were there.

The white lilies bloom before her eyes one last time, resplendent and perfect. She gets to hear about Haruki making Chunin on the first try, every bit the pride of the Uchiha, reborn anew with Sharingan blazing. She even gets to see Akiko make Jonin in person, ambitious and ingenious with Sharingan and diamond seal on her forehead setting her apart from her adversaries in the arena.

But finally, at long last, it is her culminating day. 138 days doesn't seem like a long time to be without him, compared to the larger number of days he was absent in their youth, but she finds it is worse, following their life together.

She tells them all she loves them and falls asleep for the last time, watches their confluence of family say goodbye from above. Sarada and the twins cry the hardest, clinging to her body as her heart finally pumps for the last time. Satoko is too young to understand, but he pats at her, too, in a sea of dark-haired descendants that she knows will continue to bring honor back to a clan revived at the brink of death. She takes in each and every one of their beautiful faces one last time, faces so similar to Sasuke-kun's; not a single one of them has her nose.

It is a legacy of love they have created, exactly the dream they started willing into color the day they discovered they had made Sarada together.

Then, she is on a dock that has slightly singed edges, looking over a small, familiar pond.

It is a spring evening, the sun just falling beneath the horizon and cherry blossoms abloom, and she thinks that is strange, because it is June and Hanami has already passed them by. Satoko had been so cute in his new outfit; she had made it herself, not much else to do in their empty house filled with aching memories. The tiny uchiwa on the back of his collar was sewn with the utmost care, the kind that came from decades of practice.

Crickets chirp, cicadas buzz, and there are a few fireflies leaking out of the greenery, soft light reflectant in the stillness of the water. It is serene. She had sat on this dock many times with her husband, when he was alive, on his right side so she could hold his hand. He told her she was beautiful during Hanami here, every year. She shifts to begin the process of sitting down, planning on leaving the space he'd taken up in life empty for him, in case his ghost is around. She has felt it, sometimes, tugging at her own spirit; she leaves his side of the bed empty every night, trying to will him back to her.

As Sakura shifts, she looks down, and she is startled to see pink hair instead of white, and no wrinkles. She crouches to analyze herself more closely in water still as glass, and there are no creaking old bones. She is young again, somehow.

She is overjoyed; she will be able to water the white lilies herself again. She can even dance with little Satoko now.

Light footsteps sound behind her, and just as she stands and turns, she is being swept into an unfamiliar yet comforting pair of arms. A woman with long inky hair, black as night, is hugging her tight.

"Thank you for loving my son," she breathes immediately, and Sakura starts crying, because she somehow knew who it was before she even said anything, without even seeing her face. When her eyes focus blearily through tears over Mikoto Uchiha's shoulder, Sasuke-kun's brother is walking up not far behind her.

Itachi Uchiha is smiling at her like she's done something wonderful, like he has been waiting for years to meet her. He is younger, healthier here, flecks of silver dancing in eyes just like her husband's, just like their childrens'. There's an impossible ache in her chest.

He waits patiently for his mother to pull back. When she finally does, Sakura looks into her eyes, and Mikoto is smiling at her so big, like she hung the moon in the sky, beginning to peek out from behind clouds above them.

"I have waited so long to meet you," she says, eyes shining, and her eyes are like Sasuke-kun's, too. "You are so beautiful."

Then Itachi is embracing her, and Sakura cries harder, because his arms feel almost like Sasuke-kun's arm had felt, slipping around her for sixty-one years of marriage, the same height and strong.

"I have waited, too. It's an honor. Thank you, for everything," Itachi says as she sobs.

"They are so beautiful, too, Sakura," Mikoto adds softly, hand at her shoulder, and she knows she means their children, Mikoto's grandchildren that she hasn't gotten to hold yet, Sarada and the twins and their children and all the others. Little Satoko had made twenty-seven blood relatives; including spouses who married into the clan, the number was thirty-eight, and there were two more babies on the way, yet.

Itachi lets her go, smile tender when he pulls away. He directs his gaze momentarily to the path leading up the hill, as if he's looking for someone.

She follows his gaze; Fugaku Uchiha is coming over the top, all stoicism even as a spirit. He stops momentarily and gives her a nod of recognition, not breaking eye contact for a long time.

Then, he glances back over his shoulder, tilts his head as if telling someone to follow him down the hill, and Sakura is running, though she hasn't been able to for years.

Sasuke-kun is all of twenty again, young and strong, too handsome for his own good and every bit the sweet but stoic man she fell in love and grew old with. He's smiling at her, just for her, and she's in his arms - he has both, here - in the blink of mismatched, teary eyes.

His arms feel like home, two spirits together in permanence at long last. It is the same feeling as the little piece of heaven they touched together whenever they made love, souls intertwining, but this time for good. She has missed him. Oh, she has missed him.

"...I told you I'd see you next time," he murmurs against her hair.

#this doesn't feel quite as polished as my other stuff tbh but i still like it #feels more raw emotion #ssm21 #ssm21d7 #sasusaku #naruto #ssfanfiction #cherry writes

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chaeryybomb · 3 years

Text

soulmates

pairing: na jaemin x reader

featuring: nct dream, implied markhyuck

genre: angst, fluff, best friends to lovers (kinda),

warnings: cursing, character death, mentions of insomnia

word count: 2.7k

summary: jeno asked if they believed in soulmates. jaemin never thought that a simple question would take him down memory lane.

a/n: this is actually a draft from one of my original stories and it's lowkey my favourite so i thought i turned it into a jaemin imagine. it ended being longer than the original one hjdfhj

"Do you believe in soulmates?"

Jaemin blinked, caught off guard by Jeno's sudden question. He turned to look at Jeno, who was sitting next to Renjun as the other boy was sketching away on his iPad. Jaemin's hand stopped in mid-equitation of his homework as he tilted his head in confusion at Jeno's question.

"Soulmates?" Mark echoed from the other side of the room. They were all scattered in different parts of Jeno's and his living room. When an hour ago they decided to crash at their place for an impromptu sleepover. Donghyuck was laying on Mark's lap, playing some game on his phone. Jaemin doesn't know, all he knows is that Hyuck's lets out a curse word every 5 seconds.

"Yeah," Jeno nodded, "soulmates," he said again, this time more firmly. "Do you believe in them?"

Mark leaned back into the couch and rest his head on top. "Hmmm," he hummed to show that he was in thought.

Chenle, walking out of the kitchen and plopped himself down next to Jisung on the floor, looked up at Jeno and asked, "What was your question again?"

Jeno let out a frustrated sigh and repeated, "Do you believe in soulmates?"

"Oh, nah," Chenle immediately replied. Jeno gave him a look, disappointed at his answer. The younger shrugged in return and went back to watch Jisung's game.

"What about you?" Jeno nudged Renjun at his side.

"Soulmates are fake," Renjun replied.

"He's just saying that because he's single," Donghyuck chimed in from the other side.

Renjun glared at the other boy and threw a pillow at him. The pillow landed square on Donghyuck's face and Renjun laughed at the result. Donghyuck yelped and sat up, almost bumping Mark on the chin. While Jisung let out a victorious "Yes!" and high fived Chenle.

"Asshole! I lost my game because of you!" Donghyuck cursed at Renjun. Whereas Jisung and Chenle snickered at Donghyuck's lost.

The room erupted in laughter, with Donghyuck huffing with his arms crossed after flipping Renjun off. Donghyuck leans back into Mark's chest instead of returning to his previous position. Mark, out of habit, wrapped an arm around his waist, slowly tugging him closer.

Renjun's face twisted in disgust at the couple. "Ew, okay we get it, you're in love. Don't have to rub it in," he faked gagged at them. Jeno laughed while Jaemin shook his head at them with a smile. He was seated furthur away from the group at the dinning table, lab reports scattered in front of him. His pencil sat idle in between his fingers, he should really get back to his homework because it was due tomorrow morning. But his mind still lingered on Jeno's question.

As if he read his mind, Jeno repeated his question once again. "So, do you guys think soulmates are real?" He asked again, Jeno seemed determined to get an answer out of all of them.

"Yeah, I believe them," Mark said, deciding to humor the poor boy. Jeno beamed at his answer while Donghyuck gave him a weirded look at the side.

"You do?" Donghyuck tilted his head.

"Yeah," Mark shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck, choosing to throw caution into the wind with his next words, "I mean, I met you, didn't I?"

The room immediately reacted with a mixed of ews and gagging noises. Even Donghyuck looked disgusted. Mark raised his hands in defense and laughed awkwardly, although the look on his faced said that he regretted nothing.

"Soulmates can be platonic too! It doesn't always have to be romantic," Mark continued. "Personally, I think a soulmate is someone who instantly clicks with you. Like, even if the both of you seem different, there's some kind of mutual understanding between each other, like, even if they don't talk for years, their relationship will remain same."

"It's kinda like having a home in someone. I think a soulmate is someone who feels like home to you," Jeno added. Mark nodded in agreement with him. "It doesn't have to be your significant other, your soulmate can be your sibling or your best friend."

"Oh, so like me and Jisung?"

"I thought you said you don't believe in soulmates," Jisung eyed Chenle suspiciously.

"Well, they're explanations are kinda convincing. Do you believe in soulmates, then?" Chenle fired back at the younger boy.

Jisung nodded. "It's nice to believe in these things, okay." Chenle snorted at his answer but decided to not make fun of him, maybe he'll make fun about Mark's statement later.

"A soulmate should be someone who understands you completely. They know how exactly you feel even if you try to fake it. They're someone who'll love who you are and appreciate you," Jaemin heard Mark said.

As the group continues to discuss about their views on soulmates, Jaemin shook his head and tried to return to his homework. Keyword, tried. His mind was still stubbornly thinking about the question instead of focusing on finishing the equation on hand. Yet the word "soulmates" continued to run laps around his head. Mark and Jeno's words echoed in his head and soon he found himself drifting away to a long forgotten memory.

Jaemin was seven years old when a moving truck stopped in front of the vacant house beside his for the first time in 3 years. He stood in his yard as he watched adults emerged from the vehicle. Curiously, he walked nearer and stood behind his fence. One of the adults open the big doors behind the truck to reveal a bunch of boxes stacked together. As the boxes started to be removed by other adults, an orange ball falls from one of the open boxes and rolled to his feet.

Jaemin bent down to pick up the ball when a pair of feet appeared in his line of vision. Looking up, like an angel being casted down to him, it was the first time he saw you. The sunlight made it looked like you were glowing. And in his seven year old mind, you were the princess he read about in books.

You peered down at him with a growing smile. You reached a hand out and introduced yourself. "Hi! I'm Y/N!"

Jaemin stood up and dusted himself, staring at your hand. He was nervous, he didn't know why but he was. The smile on your face dimmed, a bit hurt that he didn't shake your hand nor tell you his name. You looked at the orange ball in his hand and coughed.

"Um," you pointed at the toy, "that's mine."

As if Jaemin was snapped out of a trance, he blinked at you and then at the ball before realization dawned on him. "Oh!" he said, cheeks flushing in

embarrassment.

"Um, sorry, here you go," and he thrusted the ball towards you. You took the ball from him and turn around to walk away when he stopped you with an awkward cough. "My name's Jaemin, Na Jaemin..."

Blinking a few times, you gave him a toothy grin and said, "Nice to meet you, Jaemin! I'm L/N Y/N!"

Soulmates can be platonic, it doesn't always have to be romantic. Your soulmate can be your sibling or your best friend. Was what they said. Well, you were definitely his best friend.

"Whatcha doing, Nana?" You asked.

Jaemin yelped from your sudden appearance, the book he was holding fell from his hands and onto his left foot. Jaemin hissed in pain and grabbed his foot, hopping on one foot before falling onto his butt.

You winced at the incident. "Sorry!" You squeaked. Jaemin gave you and unimpressed look and rolled his eyes at you. You offered him a hand to get up but instead he pulled you down with him. You fell down with a thud beside Jaemin as you let out an "oof".

Jaemin's laugh rang through your ears as you pushed yourself up. You glared at him and he stuck his tongue out at you. You shifted so you were sitting cross-legged beside him while he moved to retrieve his fallen book. You looked over to him and playfully shove him.

"What are you reading, nerd?"

"If I told you, you wouldn't understand anyways."

You gasped dramatically at his reply and feigned hurt, placing your hand above your heart. "Hey, I know I don't have the braincells but you don't have to remind me," you defended.

Jaemin rolled his eyes at you and ignored you, opting to return to his book. Noticing the lack of reaction, you sighed loudly and fell back into the grass. As you cross your arms above your head, you took a peek at Jaemin. He was still immersed in whatever book he was reading.

"Nerd," you mumbled under your breath.

After a few moments of silence, you stood up and brushed yourself off. Jaemin looked up at you as you offered your hand again. "C'mon, I heard there's a new boba place near school," you told him.

Jaemin stared at your hand for awhile before sighing and taking it in. "Fine but I want to stop by at 7-Eleven too," he negotiated.

Giving him your signature toothy grin, you shook your intertwined hands and said, "Deal."

A soulmate is someone who instantly clicks with you, no matter the difference. Even if the both of you seem different, there's some kind of mutual understanding between each other. Even if they don't talk for years, their relationship will remain same.

You and Jaemin had your differences. Jaemin liked to stay inside and read on the hundreds of scientific books he had in his room. You wanted to go out and see the world, you hated being cooped in. You felt trapped while Jaemin felt at peace. So sometimes Jaemin really wonders how the two of you could've gotten so close.

You practically had to drag him out while he head to beg you to let him stay ta home. Most people would've drifted away by now. Something kept the both of you together and Jaemin thought he knew why. You were like the sun while he was like the moon.

Your presence was refreshing. You were always there to brighten up his days and your smile was a boost of serotonin for him. Whenever he was with you, there will always be a smile on his face. He was happy, and he never knew why. The reason was because of you.

And he was the moon to your sun. His calming presence was able to match your hype energy. The both of you were balanced because he kept you at bay. He was the yin to your yang. The both of you just understood each other and everything else fell in place by itself.

By the time middle school was over, you and Jaemin had parted ways to different high schools. Despite being neighbours, the both of you had trouble finding spare time to hang out. You were busy with the student council and he was busy with the photography club that you had forced him to join.

"Oh what about this one?" You slid the flyer over to him.

Jaemin picked it up and quirked an eyebrow at you. "The photography club?"

"Yeah, you like taking pictures don't you? Plus you can use the camera I got for you from your birthday!"

You looked so excited, he swore your eyes were glittering when you looked at him with anticipation. How could he ever refuse? And he was glad he didn't. Because he met Lee Jeno and Huang Renjun from the photography club and the two boys introduced him to the rest. He never told you this but he was forever thankful to you for convincing him.

But despite all of that, the two of you would somehow managed to find time. Be it him randomly face-timing you at 4am because he couldn't sleep, or you climbing into his bedroom window because you hated being alone. Distance was never a problem for the both of you, nothing will ever changed. And somewhere along the way, Jaemin realized his heart was with you.

It's not uncommon for Jaemin to be staring at his ceiling at... 3am? He turned his head and squinted at his alarm clock. Ah, no, it was 4am. These were one of those nights where insomnia had taken over. Sighing, he turned to his side and hugged his body-pillow closer. You nagged him that sleeping late during the holidays will bite him in the ass one day. Maybe he should've listened to you.

Thinking of you, he turned to his other side where he was facing his window. Your lights were switched off. Of course it was, you were sleeping. Who would be awake at this ungodly hour? Right, him...

He stared at your window, debating whether if he should call you or not. For some reason, he felt nervous. Why would he be nervous? He has called you multiple times before when he was bored. But would he be a bother? He moved to lay on his back and dropped his arm on his eyes.

"Fuck it," he whispered to himself and reached over to grabbed his phone. He tapped into his contacts and went straight to your number. He pressed the video call option and waited. From his window, he could see a small light appearing before your room was covered in pink lights.

"Hello?" Your disoriented voice caught his attention. You looked tired, your blankets were pulled up to your nose and your eyes were struggling to open. But he couldn't help but thought that you were beautiful. "Jaemin?" you called out.

"Hi," he said, muffled by his pillow. "Sorry for calling, I'll just hang up-"

"No, it's f-" you cut yourself off with a yawn, "it's fine," you said sleepily.

He frowned at your sleepy state, feeling guilty for waking you up at 4am. "Sorry," he apologized again.

"It's fine," you said again, your voice being more stable now as the sleep started to fade. "So, what's up?"

"I don't know, just can't sleep," he told you. Jaemin moved so he was laying on his side, using on hand to hold the phone while the other was tucked under his head.

"That's alright, we can just stay here until sunrise," you said. You had moved your sleeping position and was now mimicking his position.

It was right then, in the moment when Jaemin realized, he loves you. Like a bomb being dropped on him, he realized he's in love with his best friend. In the dead of night, hours before the sun rises, you could've ignored his call and go back to sleep. But you chose to accept his call and stay up with him, knowing that the both of you have school in a few hours. Yet here you were, with him. And he loves you.

"Y/N," he whispers, it was barely audible but you had somehow managed to heard him.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

Silence. Did...did he just said that? He internally started to panic. What if you don't feel the same? What if you take it the wrong way? He blamed the drowsiness in him. He's scared to look at your reaction, but he does. And the fondness in your eyes tells him that he was wrong. You looked at him like he was your world. And he knew, that the both of you were in love.

"I love you too-"

"-Jaemin?"

Jaemin's eyes snapped up at the sound of his name. The room was now silent with all eyes on him. His pencil was still in his hand, the equation still unfinished. "What's up?" He asked them.

"Jeno asked if you believe in soulmates," Jisung said.

The boy tigthened his grip on his pencil as he thought. Does he believe in soulmates? Maybe. He used to believe that they were real. Because Jaemin believed that he had already met his soulmates. But if soulmates were truly real, the universe wouldn't have taken you away from him, right?

Because he still remembered the crack in your mother's voice when she broke the news to him. You were gone. He still remembered the way his heart shattered to pieces when they said you never made it. Because you're not here anymore.

So, once upon a time, Jaemin did believed in soulmates. But you were cruelly taken away from him. He looked up to meet the gaze of his friends.

"No," he finally said, "I don't believe in soulmates."

#nct #nct dream #jaemin #jaemin imagines #nct scenarios #nct angst #nct dream imagines #nct dream x reader #jaemin angst #jaamin x reader #na jaemin x reader #nct imagines #kpop imagines #nct x reader

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lets-imagine-fanfics · 3 years

Photo

War With The Ghost Part 4

Jake Peralta x Criminal!Reader [GN]

[Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3]

Not My GIFs; Picture 1: @tamazo2 | GIF 2: Unkown

Words: 1.2K

[Masterlist] [Send a Request] [Fandoms I write]

A/N: So this has taken a reallly long time to upload but has been sat in my Grammarly drafts for ages, and since I am getting back in to writing I figured imma finish my series.

After you had made your predictions that Detective Jake Peralta (AKA your boyfrie...your date?...) was investigating you and your crew (also known as 'The Ghost' which is why Jake didn't think you were... well... you) you decided to risk it for the sake of your crew and investigate Jake Peralta's case.

"Okay, let's make a plan... What do we need to be able to keep tabs on Jake's case, Sniffer?" You asked as you paced the empty apartment of your base.

"Hard to say, I don't know what kind of software he has, different software takes a different hack," Sniffer replied, his voice laced with exhaustion as he rubbed his forehead.

"There could be a case file at his place" You hear Jonesy say in his gruff voice. "If that's the case, you could always just break in, saves us all a job" he added with a smirk.

"Saves everyone getting involved that's for sure" You reply, a playful glare towards Jonesy. "I'll set up a date," You say as you start to walk to one of the bedrooms for your phone call with Jake "whilst I do that... Try and figure out what computers the precinct have and then Sniffer..." You turn back around to look at your team who are all eyes on you. Sniffer nods understanding that you want him to create a bug that you can plant. You head down the hall to the bedroom furthest from the team so you can't be heard on the phone.

You can hear his phone ringing through and then... "Hi, Jake". --- "I have an Instagram picture of one of Jake's work colleagues, Gina, It's a selfie, but her work computer is in the back of the picture, it's just a HP computer, nothin special" Creeps spoke up after going from Jake's Instagram followers and working out who Jake works with off of the last names that Sniffer had managed to find from some of the newspapers. From there, he found Gina's and, well, he hit the jackpot.

"This picture was a year ago; they could have gotten new systems now, a few precincts got new computers a few months ago as a good work initiative, didn't they." Creeps replied.

AJ grabs the phone from Creeps and looks through a few photos of Gina "Okay, so her spirit animal is a wolf, she loves Beyonce, and... believes in psychics... Get me her work number; I have an idea."

Sniffer found the work number, that was the easy part, AJ put her phone on private, dialled in the number and let it ring through.

"Hello, Is this Miss Linetti?" AJ asked through the phone, making sure to put on an accent. 'This is she' Gina replied.

"Oh, good, I'm with HP, and I see on my list that the 99th Precinct should be... due for a... computer software update soon, I am just ringing to check that everything is working well before we go ahead and send the update." 'Yeah... I guess everything is working' Gina again replied.

"Oh, excellent, I'll go ahead and send that email for you just to confirm you want the update... and then it will take a few days to come through, but first I need to take some details just to make sure our information matches your software otherwise the update might make your computer do a system reboot." At this, Sniffer actually facepalmed. 'I don't know those deets'

Sniffer started to write something down before showing AJ "It can be confusing at times but don't worry, there is a straightforward way of seeing... erm..." AJ vigorously shakes her head at Sniffer, saying no, whilst Sniffer nods his head at AJ as he shoves the paper closer to her face. "What does the windows logo look like on the keyboard?" 'Like a flag.' "Like a flag? Okay... and does it have a circle around it or does it look like the end is pixelated like it belongs in 'Avengers: Infinity War'?" AJ asks. 'Circle one?' Gina finally said as if analysing the logo on her keyboard.

"The circle one" AJ confirms looking at Sniffer who nods eagerly. "Excellent, thank you Ms Linetti, that's the one we have on our systems too. That's the Windows Vista software, well we have confirmed that and we will continue with the update. Thank you for the help." 'No problem, I guess' Gina replied before hanging up.

"How did you know it was the Windows Vista from just 'flag' and 'circle'?" AJ asked Sniffer who was getting a high five from Creeps at that point.

"Windows logo changed a bit; I would have been screwed if she said neither coz that means it could either be XP or 7 and we would have had no way of telling them apart."

Sniffer sat back down at his computer from being stood; next AJ was he vigorously wrote notes and hints down for her whilst on the phone, as he got done making the bug email for you, you appeared from the bedroom.

"I have a date, It took some time and convincing, but I am picking him up from the precinct, did you find out what computer system they were using or whatever?"

"Creeps found the person to call and AJ rang, she was brilliant on the phone, taught her well. Quick on her feet. Sniffer managed to figure out what computer systems the 99 was using and created the bug email, and I just stood 'ere looking pretty." Jonesy relayed everything that had happened whilst you were in the other room.

"You are amazing at standing there and looking pretty, Jonesy" You say with a smile as Sniffer sends off the bugged email.

"Don't you know it" Jonesy replied with a grin. ------

You were heading to the precinct whilst you were on your phone. "Now remember, we can't help you when you are in there, no earpieces, no calls, you are totally dark in there." Creeps said on the other end of the phone.

"Oh no, 'cause I really wanted you lot listening in on our date" You reply sarcastically.

"Okay, Okay" Sniffer joined the call. "Right, once you reach Jake's computer, add the hard drive and send over the file. It will be visible in your hard drive file but not on the computer - due to the bug we sent to Ms Linetti via email. Once you have sent it over, we can then take a look at anything and everything on Jake's laptop and then whenever he sends an email - with our keywords; the bug will automatically multiply and attach to the emails and docs sent, and then once we are ready, we can erase every single file and email about the Ghosts."

"Very nice touch, Sniffer" You say pleased with his thinking. "I'll be in touch after everything is done" After that you hang up, knowing that your team no doubt had a dozen comments about what 'Everything' could be.

When you walked into the 99, you headed into the bullpen when you heard someone speak to you. "Hi, can I help you" A short man wearing a detective's badge asks.

"Yes, actually... I'm looking for Jake Peralta, this is where he works, isn't it?" You ask feigning innocents.

"Jake... Yeah, he's out at the minute, but his desk is just there if you want to wait" The man replied with a soft tone.

"Perfect, Thank you."

#b99 #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn nine nine imagine #brooklyn 99 imagine #Lifics #War With The Ghost #jake peralta x reader #jake peralta x male!reader #jake peralta imagine #criminal reader #criminal!reader #gender neutral #gender neutral!reader #gender neutral reader

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strangerays · 3 years

Text

Nothing in Particular Update #3

About seven months and I finished the first draft at 93k!

I always imagined how it would feel to finish a first draft (I’ve been writing novels “seriously” since about 2017) and now that I’ve finally done it, I can say it’s a better feeling than I imagined! Telling my friends and family (and even my doctor, who was really quite excited about it) was an amazing amazing thing. I’m generally pretty nervous to tell people about my work, but I had a really positive reaction. Honestly all of it has me on a creative high (not sure I’m coming down from that any time soon lol).

I’m going back for my last year of school in two days, which means I’m not going to have as much time as I did to write all summer. This is okay, because I’m actually going to take an entire month off of writing! I’m really burnt out - don’t want to start editing a story that’s so near to me if I don’t feel ready. I’ll talk more about editing when the time comes!

In a lot of ways, I found that my life mimicked my art. I think for a lot of people, it tends to be the other way around, but this story did a lot to heal me.

Going to hop right into excerpts now! I’m not going to explain much this far into the story because I would like to try to publish this story (FAR in the future) so I apologize for that! Also, I stopped naming most of the chapters until I go back and edit because there are just SO MANY and I didn’t have the time to stop and think of cool names. Anyways... enjoy!!

(Here is the link to the original masterpost!)

text: Rays of gold curled to the ground, primordial and shy as the fire reeds on the cusps of shallow pool around the bay outside of Mothouse combed them to fine sparkles. I remembered the way Lonan kneeled on the edges of this pool. He never dove in – just blinked slowly as he watched crabs and minnows chase each other in a swirl of sand. I could not resist the water. I’d made it a part of me. My hair was longer then; down to my elbows, fading from dark red to orange and white, soaked always. Lonan let me borrow his shirts when I forgot to bring my own. They hung from my waist, too big for me, and I was warm even as the breeze rocked us inside.

text: The sky was never blue in Point Blink. At least, I couldn’t remember the last time the clouds hadn’t given way to a dark gray mist. Jude was here. I was out of place. I was floating – watching slender, underfed pines wave in the breeze behind houses on the water before they disappeared underneath furls of cloud. Bursts of warm light shone in windows on the bay, like hungry eyes watching for a storm. A group of kids our age chaffed on a rocky expanse, their heads popping over pockets of darkness when they laughed. Froths of cloud stretched across the sky, moving the ground with it. Long stretches of trees and islands far on the other side of our small pocket of ocean looked more like large freight ships. Lights glittered and beamed on the roads and highways that belonged to the city. Pink was starting to show over the horizon. Lonan was on the other side. Somewhere.

text:

Jude sucked her lips in and flopped onto her stomach so she could see the blue below her feet. Her dark curls draped over her ears and hid her nose.

“I can’t see the bottom of the ocean.” She cupped her fingers with the other hand. “See where the water fades to white and back again? The endless tide. Why do people say the ocean is blue?”

I leaned forward. She was right. Blue ocean climbed up the side of the cliffs and turned the rocks a dark gray; ate the erosion as if from a plate. I’d never had the ocean explained to me that way before.

“I think I like it that way,” I said.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what was at the bottom of Point Blink.

text:

She smiled weakly. “It’s okay. This is just guesswork. Patchwork.”

I wanted to apologize again, but I had a strong guess that it might make her annoyed with me. “It’s kind of like… I’m just waiting for the next bad thing to happen.”

She wrinkled her nose and eyebrows, scrunched up her little face. “That’s dumb.”

“I think it’s a smart way to live.” Sometimes it felt like worry was the only thing that kept me alive. It wasn’t dumb at all.

“You’re going to be fine though. We’re going to be fine. If something bad happens, we’ll deal with it. Don’t let it eat you.”

There was wisdom in what this seventeen-year-old girl on my bed had offered me. I caught it like a gold coin. Before I could reply with anything, she launched into another question. I didn’t want to think much about change anyways.

text:

“Oh. Wow. That’s like, next year.” I sort of laughed.

“A year can be a long time,” Lonan said with a wince. “What do you think?”

I sighed through my nose and leaned back with him. The sun was going down. Sometimes, my life felt less like a golden hourglass and more like a stopwatch with a broken face.

“For once, I think I agree with your mom.”

Lonan just stared at me, with something like awe.

“I think you should do what you want,” I said.

“Ray,” Lonan started.

“No,” I interrupted him. “It’s not about me. She’s stopped you from doing anything and everything you’ve wanted to for the last four years, so when you go to college, you’ve got to separate yourself from this place.” I pointed to him. “You’re allowed to do this.”

text:

Maybe I was just being strange. Lonan was my best friend. It didn’t help that there was a little bit of him in everything – the tide pools, the echo of shells, my broken camera.

Soon, we stood in the center of the field. A breeze whispered through the cattails, fanning against our knees. Ellis loped behind me as I stepped in and out of tire tracks under the cloudless sun. She wasn’t much different than Jude. Her footsteps crunched excitedly behind mine, excited at the prospect of an unprecedented adventure. I’d missed those.

Lonan said he didn’t like to walk in fields because the wind tricked him into thinking that someone was behind him. Every brisk of his heel was a trick of the mind. Sometimes I felt the same way, like I might be haunted.

text:

The ageless water begged me closer, frizzed my hair and swathed my arms in a sweet, familiar scent. I remembered galloping down to the shore with a childhood friend in one May. Soft piano accompanied croaky lyrics from someone’s radio when we fell chest-first into the water. Static erupted in my head. There had been nothing new for me in Point Blink for so long that I’d forgotten what it was like to float. Grass turned into pebbles, and I heard Ellis’ footsteps soften to the beat of the sand. Our eyes crumbled the shells that walled the long expanse of dark sand where waves rolled in. We leaned over like two swans, crunching shells beneath our feet, displaying shells to one another, naming the ones we recognized, and when I looked out at the horizon, I saw blue.

Red plastic cups, cigarettes, and even some broken glass stuck out through the sand as we made our way further down the shoreline, as if someone had thrown a party. My brow furrowed. Maybe this part of the beach wasn’t so abandoned after all.

Between the spit of the waves and dry sand lay some sort of book. Sand trickled out of the pages and onto my shoes when I swept it out of line of an oncoming wave. Ellis was beside me in moments. Shells tolled under her shoes.

*Warning for mention of blood (fake blood and fake knife!!) this takes place on Halloween haha*

text:

Jude held the container in her palm, kneeled down so we were shoulder to shoulder. Her eyes fixed on the knife in my neck, mine on her hands, then her focused expression. Her fingers tipped my chin up, cold on my skin. I tried not to move. Suddenly, I wasn’t thinking about Dad, or Raven, or Lonan. I only let Jude in – this girl who had come out of nowhere and wrecked me, saved me. And she didn’t know any of that. I didn’t owe anything to her, but I needed her. She kept us afloat when I couldn’t even keep myself above water. Her fingers painted blood over the center of my throat, our breath quiet on each other’s cheeks. She held my shoulder as she set back.

“Absolutely feral,” she said.

text:

“Point Blink is all I have. It’s where I am, what I am.” My throat was tight. “It’s all I’ve known. I am happy with my life. And I’m sorry, but I’m not willing to throw all of that away so we can dig up answers. I want to stay.”

Jude sat there for a moment. I think Florian and Ellis had turned to look at us, because when we went silent, I could no longer heat their hushed whispers, only the sound of water as it rose and rose and rose. I wondered if it would rain.

Jude sat up on her hands, then her knees, then she stood over me.

“Is that what you honestly believe?”

Tears bubbled in her eyes. Blood streaked down her cheeks. I’d been so focused on not crying, I had missed when she started to.

“Point Blink is just the same as anywhere,” she said. The words sat somewhere above her inside her chest, weak and frail, as though they’d been realized a long time ago.

I’d stared into her eyes until they disappeared. She grabbed onto a branch above her and quietly swung herself around a corner. Her footsteps echoed until they dissolved into waves and birds and frogs and left me in the dark.

#10

*Warning for strong language!*

text:

“Why didn’t you tell me how you’d been feeling?” he asked after a few moments of silence. It was beginning to stretch uncomfortably.

“I know I don’t deserve to know,” he added, “but you’ve always put me first.”

I picked at the wood that peeled from the fence.

“I just want you to be okay,” Lonan croaked. “Please tell me what to do.”

Even when we were together, we still worried about each other. It wasn’t always that way. Maybe that was my fault. I didn’t want to think about it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I mumbled into the crisp, red air. “To be fair, I didn’t know it like I know now for a long time. I think sometimes I got the same way as a kid. Now I have a name for it, and I still don’t know if it feels right.” I sighed. “I guess… I guess I just thought that was how things were supposed to be. I thought I was only the humming low and the high.”

“Of course that’s not how you’re fucking supposed to be.”

I coughed on a laugh, wiped away a new set of tears. On the rare occasion that Lonan did swear, he sounded much like he was doing it for the first time.

I hadn’t fully realized what I’d said before Lonan’s hand was around my arm. He pulled me close to his chest. I felt smaller than him; warm and safe. I exhaled and sunk into him, didn’t allow anything else in. I’d almost forgotten what that felt like.

“You’re funny and smart and better than a lot of people.”

And... that wraps up all of my excerpts for the time being! I really enjoyed writing the last four chapters of this book. Of course they aren’t perfect. A lot of the book needs improvement. There are entire characters who are flat and plot lines I just forgot about! Come October, I plan to get back into my edits/rewrite the story.

Really quick before I finish writing this:

I just wanted to thank everyone who read about my story and showed genuine interest in the characters. Had I not received all of this love from people in real life and online, I might never have finished this draft at all. When I started this story, my mental health was really quite bad. (I’m doing a whole lot better these days!!) I guess you could say the idea started as more of a journal entry. All of these characters are like little parts of me coming together to help the main character, and I think there’s something really special about that.

Thank you so much! Good luck on all your creative endeavors! It pays off in the end, I promise :)

tag list (ask to be +/-); @wannabeauthorzofija @a-completely-normal-writer @baguettethebooklover @corkytheguar @writeherewaiting @cryptid-s-wips @kingsinking @author-a-holmes

#my little note at the end says it all haha #thank you so so much for reading!#I still can't believe I finished this book on five hours of sleep

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