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theonewiththefanfics · 4 years

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Would You Be My Little Quarantine (one-shot)

Synopsis: As the mandatory quarantine hits, the Reader is stuck in a cabin in Utah with the boys from 5 Seconds of Summer. Turns out another person is stuck in a hotel nearby. Hijinx ensue as does romance.

Pairing: Harry Styles x f!Reader

Genre: fluff pretty much just pure, teeth-rotting fluff.

Warnings: it’s my first time writing for Harry as I was never really part of the fandom, but damn does Watermelon Sugar do things to a person, so please be kind. This is defo not my best work, but I’m slowly getting back into the groove of things, so bare with me :D

Word count: 6061

TikTok had become Y/N’s new obsession. She’d stayed away from it as long as she could, being a true Vine generation child, she felt loyalty to the deceased app. But one night, after a long recording session, she caved. And then stayed giggling on it until the early morning when the birds started to chirp… or until Calum had taken her phone and threatened to throw it in the jacuzzi if she didn’t go to bed.

The girl and the four guys from 5 Seconds of Summer had been renting a cabin in the middle of the Utah woods to help them escape the distractions of the city as they recorded their respective albums, and given how they were good friends, they decided to collaborate on a few songs, and it made sense to just chill together as well.

Which had started off Y/N’s own TikTok series, having ‘borrowed’ the idea from the Irishman living with two girls.

“Alright, gentlemen.” She slid inside her bathroom pulling the focus of her camera on the reflection in the mirror. “I live with four guys, and I have some things to say. Why do you always, and I mean ALWAYS, leave your socks around the house? The dirty ones. You know you could just throw them in the wash… there’s an idea.”

“We do!” Calum yelled

Y/N turned her face to the door and hollered, “Only after I’ve asked you to!”

“Do not!” he countered.

“Do too!” she exited the bathroom and into the hallway only to be met with the man standing there with his hands on his hips. “Then how.” Y/N pointed the camera towards the living area you could see from where the hallways overlooked the room. “Do you explain that?” And when she zoomed in, there, in a small pile laid two brown socks, all crumpled up and almost pushed underneath one of the three couches, as if someone was trying to hide them from sight.

Calum stammered for a bit. “Those are NOT mine.”

Y/N flipped the camera and looked at it like they do in the Office. “Help me,” she mouthed and finished the TikTok, pointing with her hand at him. “Ya disgustin’!”

Just as maturely as she had reacted, so did Calum by crossing his arms and sticking his tongue out, but their little bickering about whose socks they were and whose job was it to put them in the dirty wash (they were Ashton’s, and it was his job), Luke poked Y/N’s side as he came out from his room.

“I know might seem weird, but is there any chance another person could join our quarantine group?”

Y/N’s eyebrows rose. Sure, the house was giant, mostly because whatever production she was a part of on Broadway, after a successful season, she invited all of them there to get away from the bustle of New York and just chill. It was in the middle of the forest, encased by gorgeous mountains and at the side of a lake where they’d go jet skiing and cliff diving.

“I thought people can’t visit one another?”

“They can’t,” Luke confirmed. “That’s the point. The unfortunate soul just got stuck at a hotel not too far from here, and all the flights are cancelled. Two weeks of quarantine without symptoms have been concluded, but, knowing how impossible it’d be to get to London, when you know, as I said, there are no flights, I offered a place to stay.”

“So,” Y/N dramatically rolled her head. “You already offered to stay before asking me?”

“Well, I knew you’d say ‘yes’ because you’re a kind, generous, amazing, smart, talented, compassionate person and wouldn’t leave someone on the streets when you know you could help.”

“Mhm, keep talking.” Y/N squinted her eyes and put her hands on her hips.

“Incredible, best musician I’ve ever met, how you haven’t won all of Tony’s I’ve got no idea. Your acting skills are impeccable and the movie industry is missing out on a once in a lifetime kind of a talent by not castin-“

“Alright stop.” Y/N busted out laughing. “As long as you promise I won’t wake up with an axe in my head, ‘s fine.”

“Promise.”

“Good. Also, could you please get me three bottles of that wine I like?” Y/N hollered before skipping downstairs and to the kitchen where Ashton was brewing the tenth cup of coffee. “I have a deadline in two weeks and have literally no idea where to go with the story.” She referred to the second book of her series she was writing, and now with the lockdown going on, her literary agent was breathing down her neck, and it didn’t help she hadn’t written anything in like a month and didn’t remember half of the already exiting story.

Luke lifted a brow and hissed through his teeth. “That bad?”

“You have no idea,” she sighed and left for the living-room where she could harass the boys for their fries and procrastinate some more.

***

The few hours, while Luke was away, were quite uneventful. All of them sat around on the couch pit, wrote some music, lil bit of lyrics and Y/N almost cried seeing as her characters had decided to live their own life and not obey to her story.

“Why do you have to be such an idiot,” she mumbled under her breath and furrowed her brows as she wrote herself into a new plot hole.

Right as Y/N was about to delete the whole chapter, the door slammed open and she heard grunting. “We’re here!” Luke hollered, and the thought of wine made her giddy, making her leap over the edge of the couch, and rush to the front door only to stop dead in her tracks.

Y/N’s mouth hung open, not because of who the person joining their quarantine group was, but because of what the person was. “A fifth GUY?! You didn’t tell me it’d be a guy!”

“I didn’t think it’d matter!” Luke yelled back.

“There’s already four of you!” She pointed back to the living room hearing loads of ‘hey!’ being shouted back.

“Would you leave him on the streets if you’d known he was a dude?”

“No, of course not!”

“Why are we yelling?”

“I don’t know!”

“I mean, I can leave.” Harry Styles said pointing at the door, not really knowing what to do. He certainly hadn’t expected that sort of greeting. “But I do come bearing gifts.” He lifted a black bag where a clinking of glass could be heard.

“No,” she sighed. “It’s fine... I just… I just miss the company of vaginas.”

He raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Vaginas?”

“People I can rant to. Honestly, it doesn’t even matter if you have a vagina, as long as we can have a good rant. Especially about the gross things like having all of your dirty socks thrown around the house.” She threw Luke a look that screamed ‘I know you pushed all of them under your bed, and it’s stinking up the whole place.’

Harry shook his head. “Ya not gonna find me leaving my clothes like that. Besides, ‘s disgusting.”

“No,” Luke whined, “come on, man! You’re supposed to be on our side!”

“It’s two against four,” Harry snickered, throwing his hand around Y/N’s shoulder, who gave Luke a smug grin, and it made her mimic the same expression.

“It’s evening out. Maybe you should actually invite some other people to quarantine with us. Say, Harry, is maybe Niall in need of a place to stay?”

Luke rolled his eyes, and shook his head, going into the kitchen and placing the food bags he’d been holding. “I hate you so much.”

Y/N’s smile just widened.

***

“Yes, I’m still stealing your series Irishman.” Y/N zoomed in on her face. “Because now…” she looked up at the ceiling in a manner ‘someone please save me’, “I’m living with FIVE dudes. Yes, FIVE. We have an addition. And if someone doesn’t come and kill me, I will kill them.”

“We’re not that bad!” Michael hollered form out of frame, to which Y/N yelled back, “Yes the fuck you are! Boys are gross. You do realize you’re allowed to have more than one towel. Like you DON’T have to wipe your face with a towel that’s soaked up your ball juice.”

“It’s economy.”

“It’s disgusting! Also.” Y/N turned the camera to Harry who was climbing up the stairs with a cup of coffee in hand. “Say ‘Hi’ to gremlin number five. He’s stolen all of my nail polish.”

He gave a cute wave with an adorable smile, muttering an unintelligible ‘Hello’ as his mouth was stuffed with a piece of bread and a very muffled ‘You don’t even use them.’

“Yes, but that’s not the point. Anyway,” Y/N pointed the camera at herself. “Tune in for an update whenever, as long as I haven’t strangled anyone, and pray to the heavens you don’t see my face in the papers cause the next time you do, it’ll be my mugshot for a quintuple homicide.”

“Is that a threat Y/L/N?” Harry smirked, as Y/N walked past him and took away his cup of coffee.

“No, it’s a promise.” She threw him a wink, leaving the Brit with his mouth open at the woman’s audacity, as she stopped the recording of the TikTok.

“That was my coffee!”

“Not anymore!”

He shook his head, turning back around and going to the kitchen, seeing Y/N perched on one of the stools, neck stretching over to where Ashton was watching a video on his phone, the black liquid in his cup now a creamy beige. Harry smiled. Maybe quarantine wasn’t going to be so bad.

***

Y/N’s head popped from the side of the door, bringing all of their attention to her. “You guys need to record anything right now?”

Luke shook his head, signifying the band was alright before turning to Harry who mimicked him, the tapping of his pen stopping. “Why?”

“Just got a call from Laurence, he said something’s wrong with the ‘Candy Store’ audio from yesterday. Need to rerecord it and send it over. Something about a faulty export or whatever.”

“ ‘S all yours.” Ashton motioned to the recording booth. “Oh, but can I be Heather Duke?”

“And can I be Heather McNamara then?” Luke piped in.

Y/N chuckled. “Not to burst your bubbles, but you do know you won’t be in the final version?”

“No, but we could be in THIS version. It’d be for our private files. And it’d help you.”

“That sounds so wrong.” She grimaced. “How would that help me?�� Y/N plopped next to Harry on the floor. “You’re the biggest distractions I’ve ever met.”

Luke scoffed. “How dare you! We offer you our services of being backup singers, and you… you’re such a meanie. You’re such a Heather Chandler!”

“It’s 2020! If Leslie Odom Jr. can play Aaron Burr, then I can play one of the Heathers! Don’t be sexist, Y/N!”

“I never said a dude can’t play a Heather, don’t put words in my mouth. I just said last time we tried to record anything together we ended up playing SIMS for like seven hours, but… come on you two divas, get your asses inside then. But I swear if Laurence or Kevin call because one of you whispered something dirty in the background of MY parts, I will strangle you in your sleep.”

“How little trust do you have in us?”

“Very,” Y/N deadpanned, showing the two men inside, leaving Calum, Harry and Michael to man the production table. “If you mess with anything, your asses will be grass.” She pointed at the three and all of them put their hands up in surrender. “ ‘S bad enough you ruined my single.”

“It’s called giving it flavour,” Calum said through the microphone.

Y/N just responded by sticking her tongue out.

Michael lifted his fingers, counting down from five to one, giving her the cue to start.

“Are we gonna have a problem?” Y/N cocked her head to the side, already immersed in the character of Heather Chandler. “You’ve got a bone to pick? You’ve come so far, why now are you pulling on my dick?”

Harry swallowed hard.

“I’d normally slap your face off, and everyone here could watch,” she slightly motioned with her head to the audience behind the screen, a mockingly sweet smile on her lips. “But I’m feeling nice, here’s some advice, listen up biatch.”

When her hips started moving from side to side to the rhythm of the song, Harry swore he’d never found someone being mean (even though it was mock mean) so hot.

“I like,” Y/N raised her voice before dropping it. “Looking hot, buying stuff they cannot.”

There was no sight of the sweet and bubbly girl Harry had met. This was Queen-B of Westerberg High in flesh. He was transfixed.

“I like drinking hard, maxing dad’s credit card.”

She didn’t need anyone’s credit card to pay for her things, given how she was one of the top paid Broadway singers of their generation, and something in Harry skipped a beat at how confident she looked.

“I like skipping gym, scaring her, screwing him,” Y/N rolled the ‘r’ deeply in her throat, and he had to collect himself before his thoughts went to an unsavoury place.

“I like, killer clothes, kicking nerds in the nose!” With a smile, Y/N pointed at Luke who only rolled his eyes. “If you lack the balls, you can go play dolls, let yer mammy fix you a snack,” she emphasised the ‘K’ after having mockingly sung the bit before. “Or you could come smoke, pound some rum and coke, in ma Porche with the quarterback.”

As weird as it was to have the two boys be her fellow Heathers, Y/N hated to admit it did help her. It reminded her more of what it was like to be on stage before the pandemic had started and the production had to be shut down. And she missed them. All her fellow actors just as much as she missed the rush of getting on stage and losing herself in the role and atmosphere.

“You can join the team –“

“Or you can bitch and moan,” Y/N’s ‘Heathers’ sang in a nasally voice

“You can live the dream.”

“Or you can die alone.”

Harry snuck inside the recording booth, picking up a pair of headphones by the drum set.

“You can fly with eagles,”

“Or if you’d prefer,”

“Keep on testing me,”

“And end up like her!”

And that’s when Harry joined in, reciting the lines of both Veronica and Martha, and when he saw Y/N keeping a palm over her mouth as she tried to keep a mean face while inevitably hiding a smile. The whole of the song, despite how Ashton, Luke and Harry had tried to make Y/N break character (she came close a couple of times), the woman stayed on the line, not missing a beat, and especially enjoying the moment where she looked at Luke, who was about to hit the high note and screaming ‘shut up, Heather!’

Harry couldn’t help the smile splitting apart his face. When Luke had first picked up his call, having known he and the gang were somewhere in the Utah region, he had thought he’d be living with just the guys, and when he found out it was actually Y/N Y/L/N renting the cabin, the girl he’d admired for so long for how brave and utterly unapologetic she was of being herself, Harry had just thought he’d gain a new friend, not have romantic feelings spring up.

And all of it had happened in the span of two days, not even that much. He’d arrived the evening before, had met the woman, and now it was three PM on day two and was already in love.

It was an exhilarating and terrifying feeling all at once. Some studies said it takes men eight seconds to fall in love, which Harry now could pretty much confirm, while it takes women generally fifteen days to fall in love. And he could only hope Y/N might have some feelings for him as well, otherwise, he’d have to scold his heart for falling quickly once again.

***

It was the middle of the night, wind slamming against the windows when Harry got awoken by people talking behind his door. At first, he was ready to fight, thinking immediately that intruders had come into the house, but when he heard a ‘fuck off Michael’ and a ‘you fuck off, you’re gonna ruin this’, he understood everything was fine. And he was just about to lay back down on the soft pillows, but as the saying went – curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back, so he threw off the covers and lightly went to the door, where a bleary Harry appeared on the stairs making Y/N and Michael whip their heads towards him and freeze on the spot.

“What are you two do-“ but he didn’t get to finish the question as the two co-conspirators shushed him.

“You’re either in,” Y/N whispered harshly, “or out. Choose Styles.”

A beat. “What kind of trouble’re we getting’ into?”

The smile which spread on her face was nothing short of wicked. “Revenge,” Y/N hissed.

“Be quieter than a mouse,” she whispered to him, and now the trio moved downstairs.

“Who are we getting revenge on?” Harry spoke as quietly as he could, as they rounded the corner and exited the cabin through the back door. It was colder than he thought, seeing how the wind wasn’t warm at all, and he was grateful he’d fallen asleep in his favourite rainbow cardigan. How Y/N and Michael didn’t even shiver in their barely-there pyjamas he didn’t understand.

“See, Luke here thought it was a good idea to not heed my warning about not messing with my recording.”

Harry’s eyebrows scrunched up. “He didn’t.” He knew Luke hadn’t, he was there the whole time and listened back to what they’d sung with everyone together.

“No, but he did rename a different file with the same name I had for the 'Heathers'' recording, on MY computer, mind you. And well, let’s just say, it was not what anyone wanted to hear.”

Harry had to swallow, as his mind went to unsavoury places, and as Y/N shimmied open the lock of the window to the studio bathroom part of the house, she looked over her shoulder to see his expression. It would seem, despite him being in ‘Dunkirk’ and having been confirmed to play Eric in the live-action ‘The Little Mermaid’ he wasn’t as good of an actor as he thought.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” she snickered and pulled herself inside the house through the window, Michael handing her a black duffle bag Harry hadn’t first noticed. “It was a conversation I had with my friends while we were all drunk. Some tea, some very personal tea was spilt, and so.” She unzipped the bag slowly and took out a whipped cream can. “I’m going to spill something else.”

Canned cheese was one of the most disgusting things ever created by a human in Y/N’s opinion. So, squeezing nine cans worth of the stuff inside all of Luke’s socks, jean pockets and everywhere else possible was good enough revenge for her.

“Why are we in the studio though?” Harry asked as the trio crept towards the bathroom door and peeked through the open sliver. It was pitch black.

“Because Luke teds to forget his favourite things here,” Michael explained and motioned for them to follow as he checked that the hallway was clear. It was go-time.

Together they all snuck back inside the recording studio, and much like Michael had said – Luke’s favourite jean jacket, a woollen jumper, three pairs of boots and shoes were all scattered around the place. He hadn’t even noticed it while they’d hung out there, but now Harry understood what Y/N was talking about while whining about the boys being messy.

She uncapped the can and squeezed, the artificial smell of cheese wafting through the air, making her almost gag. “That’s for being a bad friend,” she muttered while filling up one shoe. “That’s for making bad jokes.” She filled up another. “And that’s for saying ‘Dancing in the Moonlight’ is an overrated song.’

It was hard for Harry to contain the giggles, as he uncapped his own can and started filling up wherever Y/N pointed to. Did he feel bad? Sure. But was it fun to feel like a teenager in a university dorm during a prank war? Abso-fucking-lutely. And it didn’t help that he was desperately falling in love with Y/N with every second they spent together. Like she could’ve asked him to hide Luke’s corpse, and he’d say he’d take the blame for the murder if it came to it.

“Why did we have to sneak around the place like that?” he suddenly asked, brows furrowing in concentration as he squeezed the smelly contents inside the inside pocket of the jacket. “Why couldn’t we have just walked through the house?”

“Because Luke always and I mean always comes to the studio at 3 AM,” Y/N stated.

Harry looked at the clock. It was 2:45 AM already.

“But before that, he goes into the kitchen, makes himself a double espresso, a sandwich and eats it before going into the storage where we keep all of the instruments, which is where he is in right now. Had we snuck through the normal way, he would’ve seen us and stopped this. And that just wouldn’t fly.”

However, it was like Luke had a sixth sense as right at that moment the light flipped on, and like deer in headlights, the trio’s heads shot up and eyes widened.

“What the fuck!” he whispered hand extended in the direction of the already six empty cans on the floor.

Y/N snapped out of the adrenaline induced frozen state and shrugged. “I told you not to mess with the recording.” She put her finger back on the squeezable part. “And you. Didn’t. Listen.”

The cheese squirted out with a splutter, and all of them stood still as the final bits dropped into Luke’s black boot. “And that’s payback.”

With a sway in her hips, Y/N exited the room, leaving the three men to gawk after her.

God was she a hurricane, Harry thought to himself. And he’d never been as happy to be caught right in the eye of it all.

***

The next few days all of them spent lounging around the house, recording a few songs, most of them by Harry seeing as a huge wave of inspiration had hit him, making him write more than one love song. He even asked Y/N somewhat shyly if she could do some of the backing vocals, and he swore the song went from a 3 to a 100 the second he heard her voice weave his lyrics into a symphony.

By that point, they’d been quarantining for a week and a half together, and a heatwave was coming up. The cabin had both an inside and outside pool which they’d all had to learn how to maintain, seeing as no one could come and do it for them, and a jacuzzi tub on the terrace. As much as the boys tried to prove they knew how to keep the places clean, ultimately it was Y/N who saved all of them from chlorine poisoning and algae overgrowth.

So, it was right when she pulled out the pH indicator and said it was good for use when with a scream, Luke rushed forward Y/N, rugby tackling her by the waist and plunged both of them down to the water below.

“You asshole!” She splashed at him, laughing and choking out a bit of water as they resurfaced. “What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“That’s payback for the cheese.”

She went silent for a second, but then shrugged. “Can’t say I didn’t deserve it. But you did deserve the cheese.”

“So,” Luke extended his hand for a shake. “Do we call this even?”

Harry exited the cabin right as both of them completely soaked to the bone jumped out onto the wood floor. He stopped mid-walk if only to control where his eyes went seeing as Y/N’s white shirt clung to her body and well… didn’t leave much for the imagination anymore.

“Do I wanna know what happened here?” He raised a brow.

“Retribution.”

“Though I do gotta say, you have a funny way of getting revenge.” Y/N smirked at Luke, making him squint down at the girl.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she drawled out, a mischievous smile on her lips, “that when I filled your clothes with the cheese, my stuff didn’t get stinky. And yet, from your end… I’m not the only one wet.”

A beat passed.

“God fucking damn it.”

“Hey!” She pointed a finger at him. “We called a truce!”

Luke waved her off. “Yeah yeah, whatever,” but Y/N grabbed Luke’s hand right before he went inside and squeezed it.

“We good?”

He sighed and smiled. “We good, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, gave Harry a quick ‘see ya later’ as well and disappeared through the glass doors.

Harry didn’t know what’d happened to him. He’d always been a helpless romantic, falling in love, and maybe a bit too hard at that, but this time, even without Y/N knowing about his feelings, his heart felt safe.

Sure, the side of her he’d seen was a complete headcase, and she had more energy than a bull with a red flag in front of it, but the utter love exuding from the woman, even while she complained about her four, well five counting him, housemates was palpable in the air. The way she hugged and made sure everyone had whatever they needed, the way she let them know if anyone needed to have a chat, she’d be there to listen, and the small little things of how she always knew what preferences they’d have for their pancakes or breakfast in general, made his heart melt.

“Luke’s a lucky guy.” Harry swallowed before saying that. As much as seeing Y/N be affectionate with everyone, him included, made him feel all fuzzy, a little jealousy monster did bubble up in his stomach when he saw her snuggled next to the lead vocalist of the band. He didn’t have any right to, but no matter how much he tried to repress the green beast, it still lurked somewhere deep in his heart.

“Hm?” Y/N lifted her head where she’d been looking at the water as she squeezed it out of her shirt and up at Harry.

He motioned with his chin to where Luke had disappeared. “He’s a lucky guy to have someone like you.”

“Oh, we’re not together if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I –“ he stammered. “I didn’t mean to offend y-“

But Y/N waved him off. “You’re not the first nor probably the last person to say that. I get it. They asked me one time to surprise their fans at a concert in Connecticut, I think, and when their photographer sent over the pictures, I kinda saw what everyone kept saying, but I’ve never looked at any of them as more than a friend. Best friends, brothers maybe, but nothing more.”

“How’d ya get so close?” Harry enquired, his chest feeling a bit lighter.

Y/N huffed and plopped down to the ground, patting the place beside her which Harry took. “When I first went solo, right after being on ‘Beetlejuice’ I was fucking terrified. Didn’t really know anyone in the music industry like that. Being on Broadway’s different.” She shrugged. “And the award shows are different as well. Like with ‘Tony’s’ or ‘Oliver’ awards it’s you know – musical and theatre geeks. My people. But the first time I went to VMAs I almost shat myself.” She chuckled, and Harry did the same. “Didn’t know anyone at all, was petrified to even find my seat because someone told me I’d have to sit between Lady Gaga and Rihanna, and my heart was not ready for that. Ashton saw me at the edge of the carpet, creeping around the entrance and kinda…” Y/N bit her lip looking for the right words. “I dunno. They kinda took me under their wing, in a sense – if you need a friend in the industry, we’re here, that sort of thing. And ever since then, we’ve been best friends. Luke and I just got the closest because we got stuck in an elevator once for like eight hours once, and well, boredom and thinking you’re gonna die in a four by four-foot box brings people closer.”

Harry almost choked. “Eight hours?”

“Yep.” Y/N popped the ‘p’ and gave him a sarcastic smile. “It was like soooo much fun,” she said sarcastically. “I totally didn’t think the elevator was about to drop from where we were up on like the sixtieth floor, and both of us were gonna get our bones smashed to pieces, and I only had two protein bars, and you know how I get without food,” she stated. He nodded.

“Cranky.”

“Exactly. But.” Y/N chuckled. “We didn’t die. Which’s great, not complaining, and I gained one of my all-time best friends.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t die.” Harry gave her a warm smile and nudged her foot with his. “Wouldn’t have gotten the chance to meet you otherwise.”

She nudged his foot back. “ ‘M glad I didn’t die either. And I gotta say – you’ve made this whole quarantine bearable. Sometimes it’s like fighting with four toddlers, and that’s always a futile battle. Happy to have another wrangler with me. Also an accessory to my crimes.”

He inched his hand towards hers, and when Y/N didn’t pull away instead liked her pinkie with his, a warm feeling rushed through him.

“Happy to be of help.”

***

It was two nights later or full two weeks since the six of them had been together when things took a turn.

Y/N’d always been a light sleeper, especially when her life was mainly placed in New York, but now, living in the middle of nowhere, she’d been able to catch up on some sleep. That was when the sound of her door being opened made Y/N shot up in her bed, sheets clutched at her chest in a panic. “What? What’s wrong? What did Calum set on fire?”

“Nothing.” Harry’s eyebrows scrunched up, but he decided not to ask. There was the morning for that. “This might seem weird, but could I uh could I possibly sleep in your room?”

She blinked a couple of times, because her brain was still processing his words and if they were even English, but once they registered, Y/N nodded, pulling back her blanket and scooting over. “C’mere.”

“Again, I’m sorr-“

Y/N shushed him, as Harry climbed in the bed, placing the duvet underneath his arm and twisting to see her, as she mumbled, “less talk, more sleep.”

He hummed in agreement. His eyes were heavy, in fact, they’d become heavy the instant his head had hit Y/N’s pillow, but it was like his heart, the same poor heart that’d had to deal with the newfound emotions for the whole time he’d been there, the same poor heart that didn’t know better and always gave itself away to the person it deemed to be worthy, no matter if in the end it ended up broken, took over the control of his eyes and mouth, and while slamming against Harry’s ribcage, he whispered his confession.

“I really like you… As more than a friend.”

A second passed. He felt Y/N stir as she turned towards him, brow furrowed. “Sorry?”

“I said…” He let out a shaky exhale. “I like you. I fell for you pretty much the second I entered the house and you threatened to throw me out because I was a guy. And then I fell for you when I saw you let loose in the studio. And then once more when I witnessed what your wrath entails.”

Y/N chuckled. “Cheese.”

“Yeah…” He let out a little laugh. “Cheese.”

A gentle palm went to brush away the hair stuck to Y/N’s face and he swore he could just melt as she leaned into his touch. “And then I fell for you when you said yes to singing my song… when you sang the lyrics, I dedicated to you… and every second I fall for you even more… I just… I thought you should know…”

“Well, I can only hope that you’ll take this as a compliment then, when I say I kinda like you too, Styles,” she mumbled snuggling deeper into her pillow. “Though I didn’t think I was your type.”

“What’s my type then?” he mumbled back, letting his arms wrap around Y/N’s waist when she shuffled closer. Not only was he now fully in heaven because he was covered by the softest duvet in the world, head resting against a literal cloud, but also because his nostrils were invaded by the gentlest of smells, and the body against his was the warmest of comforts.

“Well, not girls like me.”

“You mean talented, beyond funny and absolutely breath-taking?”

“Introverted, house hermits who don’t wash their hair unless they have to go somewhere with a perchance of self-destructive behaviour. Unintentional that is.”

Harry’s eyebrows lifted. “Would’ve never taken you for an introvert.”

“Mmmh,” Y/N sighed, feeling his fingers skim her skin. “That’s because I’ve known those guys for years, and they’re like my brothers. Couldn’t be uncomfortable even if I tried with them. We’ve seen too much of each other. But I’m definitely an introvert. Almost had a panic attack the first time I had to make my own doctor’s appointment.”

“You didn’t seem shy with me.”

“That’s because for some weird reason I… I didn’t feel awkward around you. And I mean, you did bring wine.”

She could feel Harry’s chest rumble as he laughed. “Well, I hope it helped with inspiration.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she huffed, but opened her bleary eyes and were met by Harry’s green already staring back. She couldn’t contain the giggle, and it only grew in power as he chuckled himself, making her bury her head in his chest.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head. “Just never thought I’d date someone from 1D.”

“Are we below you or something?” There was no trace of malice and hurt in his voice. He knew Y/N wasn’t like that.

“No, ‘s just my boy band phase was ‘Good Charlotte’, ‘Panic at the D!sco,’ ‘My Chem’ and the sort.”

“So, you weren’t fainting while listening to ‘You Don’t Know You’re Beautiful’?” Harry mumbled in Y/N’s hair, sleep slowly overtaking him.

She shook her head. “Sorry, no. Panties definitely weren’t dropping then.”

“Are they now?”

“According to ‘Watermelon Sugar’ you’re the one pulling all of ‘em off.”

“Damn. Guess it’ll have to be my new challenge.”

Y/N’s eyebrows scrunched up as she looked at him before promptly falling asleep. “Making my panties drop?”

“Yep. But this time because of me, not Gerard Way.”

“Bold of you to assume it was just Gerard Way. I’m a slut for all of those wizard dads.”

By the time she slurred out the last sentence both of them had drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

***

“They were right!” Harry shouted jumping up in the bed, startling Y/N awake once more as if something was breaking down on their heads with how urgently he jolted. “It does take women two weeks to fall in love and men 8 seconds.”

A pillow met his face. “Fall back asleep.”

He leaned over her still horizontal form, a smug smile on his face. “Are you gonna make a TikTok about it?”

“Probably ‘bout how I murdered the boyfriend I was with for three hours if he doesn’t let me sleep.”

He didn’t argue. With a smile on his face, Harry drifted off once more. Who knew that getting stuck in a hotel somewhere in Utah would lead him to the love of his life?

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Forever tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

A/N: So... I know I’ve been gone for quite a while, but that’s because I have a job now (I’m trying to get a different one that actually would involve my degree, because this one is absolutely killing me), so please be understanding with the spare posting. I still love writing fics, and as evident, I’m kina branching out into other fandoms :D

There’s a lot of things going on in my life, so if you wanna follow me you can do that on Instagram @dinnusa or @read_with_dee or on my blog dinnusa.wordpress.com :) I also have a TikTok @dinmasters

P.S. feedback is always appreciated :)

P.S.S. If you wanna be tagged please drop a message :) or if you want to be removed/ changed to a different tag list please also message me :)

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sohlidarity · 4 years

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how to get back on track when you are doubting yourself + feeling lost/unorganized

I’ve seen many posts on my timeline of people being out of the loop and not feeling like themselves. I’m not talking about being productive but rather getting the right mindset. Because yes, we are dealing with a pandemic but we also have responsibilities that we need to fulfill. These are some things that work for me. Think of this as a tutorial if you are “I go with the flow I don’t plan sh*t” typa person cuz trust me I’ve been there and sometimes the flow is nonexistent. “Trust the discipline not motivation” (quote from my smart friend)

1. Write down all the tasks that you have.

By all I mean ALL. Laundry? 2 problem sets for physics due friday? group project due thursday? Washing the dishes? Putting all the papers flying around the room in a recycling bag? Cleaning the bathroom mirror? 4 page essay? Write them all down.

2. Now analyze the tasks. Some of them will need sub-tasks. Cross out the main task and leave the sub-tasks on your list.

For example, for my group project. The tasks I wrote down were:

remind the group the project is due thursday

send them all the code that you have completed so far

ask to schedule the next meeting to find out what we have left

See? this is a lot easier to execute rather than just saying “complete the group project” because in reality, the tasks we have are way too complex. BREAK THEM DOWN. easier to remind yourself to email your team rather than just “complete the project” LOL

3. Now take this list of tasks and separate them in 3 categories: today, this week, this semester. Give them a specific time in the calendar (I use google calendar)

This will give you a time frame to complete the tasks. Kinda like deadlines. So you don’t feel like you need to complete 500 tasks that you have on your paper on the same day and then feel unmotivated and then give up and go on tiktok. Trust me we’ve all been there. You are your best friend. Don’t stress YOURSELF out. Help yourself. For example, from 10-11am attend class, from 5-6pm we will discuss the project details and from 6-7pm I will workout. etc

4. Last and final step - Start with the task that is the easiest and the least time consuming to create momentum.

Going from binge watching Netflix to doing your physics problem sets about rotational dynamics is a herculean task. So start with something simple like doing your laundry. Once you start checking small things off your list you will start feeling productive. That’s it! Grab that feeling. After completing ONE easy task, do a difficult task. Then move on to a bigger task. Then do an easier task. Note - Continuously doing easy tasks will also be known as “productive procrastination” so it is best to alternate between difficult and easy tasks.

5. FAQ - Feeling like you are being unproductive again? Switch to another task instead of taking a break. Completed half of each task? Now, take a break.

Trust me sometimes breaks are not that great either. Switching between tasks is another alternative. Wrote the introduction and first body paragraph of your english/bio essay and you don’t feel like writing anymore? Do 2 questions from your physics homework. And keep alternating until you complete at least half of both the tasks before you take a break. [So when you come back you see that half of it is already done and that will motivate you to finish the rest.] Because editing an essay is easier than starting something from a blank page.

I hope that helped! Shoot me a message/ask if you need to talk!!

#studyblr #studying #productivity #motivation #tbhstudying #studyspo #study tips #studylustre #warmhealer #studygram #new studyblr #studyign #inspiration #100 days of productivity #emmastudies #studentdiaryofamedstudent #mine #sohlidarity

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jalapeno-princess · 4 years

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Angel of Mine

College Boyfriend Mark X Reader

Genre: FLUFFIEST OF FLUFF, Doting boyfriend Mark that we all deserve

Word Count: 4.5K

Summary: You and your boyfriend Mark are cuddled up in your bed watching a movie when you are reminded that you have an essay due in a couple of hours that you haven’t even started on. Before you can completely break down, your boyfriend comes to your rescue and offers to write your paper for you. It’s in the moments of watching him so focused, typing away at your laptop do you realize how lucky you are to have Mark as a boyfriend.

A/N: Hey guys! So it’s the beginning of midterms here in Hawaii and i’ve already cried seven times I am not kidding you I have two semesters left of college and this is the hardest it’s ever been. I wrote this imagine for shits and giggles; i’ve never had a boyfriend before (HAHAHAHA CRIES IN FILIPINO AND KOREAN) so I wouldn’t know if there are guys out there who are actually like this (If you are, God bless you) (and if your boyfriend is like this, MARRY HIM) I actually watched a tiktok post on instagram right after I finished this where this girl said she was doing her boyfriend’s homework because he was stressed or whatever and if that isn’t couple goals than I don’t know what is (btw I do not condone having someone else do your homework) (especially if you force them to do it because you don’t want to it’s your responsibility and your education, but if they offer...it’s a different story) (LOL) anyways, enough of me blabbering, please enjoy reading while I cry in a corner.

“Remind me how I got myself in this situation again?” Your boyfriend gave you a knowing look and you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a faint giggle at the sight of his furrowed brows.

“Because you love me.” He playfully rolled his eyes and continued typing away at your computer.

“Yeah, sometimes a little too much. But if I remember correctly, you promised to suck me off once I’m finished writing this damn thing, so don’t think I’m going to forget our agreement babe.”

To say you were a procrastinator would be the understatement of the year. Just a few hours ago, you and Mark were comfortably cuddled up together in bed while you both watched the live action version of Mulan. When your boyfriend excused himself to go use the bathroom, you decided to scroll through your Instagram while waiting.

After looking at a couple of posts from some of your friends and family, you were curious as to what everyone was doing and you found yourself going through some of their stories. Finals were less than two weeks away, so you were used to seeing your friends post pictures of them working their many assignments or studying for exams.

What you weren’t expecting to see was one of your classmate’s working on an essay for your English class that was apparently due in less than four hours. Only then did it hit you; you had yet to write the paper and it was worth 20% of your grade. For weeks, you told yourself you were going to start on it and when it was first assigned over two months ago, you thought you had all the time in the world.

Two months went by quicker than you could even fathom and you were frustrated with yourself for not writing it down on your calendar or completing it earlier. You practically ran over to your laptop and began looking up the rubric to see how your professor wanted you to write your essay and you could feel your heart sink to your stomach as soon as you read the requirements.

Mark was confused when he saw you no longer lying in the bed; the two of you decided to have a lazy day indoors and you’ve only left the bed twice to use the bathroom and to get something to snack on. This past week has been extremely rough on your mind and your body; so when you told Mark you had no intention on doing anything other than laying in bed and watching movies, he knew to trust your words.

“Baby, what are you doing?”

Your flustered expression only made him even more curious as to what could have happened in the few minutes he was in the bathroom for. You bit your bottom lip in frustration; knowing how Mark could be whenever it came to your education, you were afraid he was going to be upset once he found out you had only a few hours to write your essay. Since you were too much in shock to respond to him, he took matters in to his own hands and looked at your computer screen.

“Wait—I remember you mentioning this essay a couple of weeks ago—eight pages?! Six educational sources—and it’s due by 11:59 P.M. tonight—y/n what the hell?!”

This wasn’t the first time you waited till right before your assignment was due to start working on it. Matter a fact, most of your important assignments; research papers, group projects, essays and online tests were completed on the day they were due. Sometimes it was on purpose; you felt as if some of your best work were the ones you’d work on right before you were supposed to turn it in. You knew it had a lot to do with the fact that you felt pressured to do better knowing you had a time limit; but most of the time you were just lazy and didn’t want to do any work at all.

You and Mark knew about each and every single thing there is to know about one another. He knew of each and every beauty mark on your body and where it was located, he memorized all your aunt’s, uncle’s and cousin’s names, he knew the exact shade of blue that you claimed was your favorite color and he knew how you liked your tea in the morning.

The only thing he had no control over, was the way you handled your education. Mark thought the entire world of you; he believed you were the most hardworking, courageous, determined, generous and golden-hearted person he had the amazing pleasure of knowing. And he wasn’t being biased because you were his girlfriend, but you were the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen before. In his eyes, you were flawless; you could do no wrong—well; the only problem Mark really had whenever it came to you was the fact that you didn’t know how to prioritize your responsibilities.

After what happened to you right around the time you were introduced to one another, Mark would’ve thought that your mindset and outlook on how you managed everything going on in your life would change. He knew you were capable of great things; when you put your mind to it, you could finish any task that you were given and you were great with multitasking. Mark saw how much time, persistence and effort you would put in to your job or whenever you’d lend a hand to anyone who needed assistance; he admired your work ethic and how passionate you could get when it came to the people and things that you loved.

It was just harder for you to put time in to your essays, journals, blogs or reading the books your professors would assign. School was never something you ever really cared for; it wasn’t like you were really learning anything anyway. For years, you tried your best in being good at all subjects. You’d stay up studying for hours on end only to not retain any information that you learned and it wasn’t entirely your fault. The educational system was just fucked. In this generation, it isn’t even about learning anything; the main focus is turning in assignments on time.

The professors could give less of a shit whether or not you understand any of the material being taught. During your relationship, Mark tried his best to motivate you and even bribed you with food and kisses. He even offered to make flashcards for you if that meant you’d have an easier time studying, but nothing ever worked.

As much as he wanted you to be successful with your education, especially because he genuinely loved attending school, he knew not to force anything on you and making matters worse. This time was different though; this class was one you were already having a hard time with and this essay in particular would determine whether or not you pass or fail by the end of the semester. Your boyfriend tried his best to hide his disappointment, but it was only natural for him to be upset. Attending college was not cheap at all.

He was completely aware of the thousands of dollars you had to fund on your own because your parents weren’t able to help you financially as much as they wish they could. Since he was extremely supportive of you and each and every single one of your endeavors, he even helped pay for quite a bit of your tuition which you haven’t completely forgave him for, but you both showed him and told him on a daily basis how grateful you were that he did such a thing; and that he never fails to take care of you in ways you didn’t think you deserved.

A part of him wanted to continue his poor attempt at scolding you, but as soon as he saw tears building up at the brim of your eyelids, all his anger and frustration dissipated. If there was anything Mark hated, it was seeing you cry. The reason behind your tears didn’t matter; it just broke his heart knowing you were sad and right now, he pushed the idea of your procrastination to the back of his mind. He motioned for you to stand up and kissed both your cheeks to get rid of any trace of tears. Then, he pulled you in to his embrace and placed his chin on the top of your head before he comfortingly ran his hands up and down your back.

“I’m so sorry Mark—I’m sure you’re upset with me and you have every right to be—I’m so stupid—“ if this were under different circumstances, the cheeky pinch on your butt would’ve earned your boyfriend a punch to the shoulder, but you knew this was his way to stop you from degrading yourself. Before you could ever say anything negative about yourself, Mark would try and divert your attention away from bad mouthing yourself.

Although you and Mark were together for three years now and you knew he was the man you planned on spending the rest of your life with, there was an annoying voice in your head that would remind you almost every single day that you didn’t deserve him. He’s sacrificed so much for you and you knew it was because he loved you; but you never understood why. You weren’t anything special; sure, you loved him with every fiber of your being and you knew he was well aware of that. Yet, you knew he deserved so much more but there was no way you’d ever be able to let him go. Not when he was the one who saved your life all those years ago. The only person who meant anything to you.

As much as you loved your family and your friends, nobody could ever compare or mean as much to you. Nobody could ever be as important as Mark was. He was the only person you were sure you would die from heartbreak if you were to lose him. It was selfish of you to continue dragging him down with you and your toxic ways, but you needed Mark; you’d be nothing without him. He was your own personal guardian angel sent to change your life entirely for the better. He was the only good thing going for you and with the way he treated you as if you were the most fragile and rarest jewel in the world, you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

“You’re not stupid baby—a little irresponsible and careless, but not at all stupid. Hmph, I’ll tell you what, seeing as how I’m better when it comes to writing essays, let me handle it this time.”

“No, there’s no way in hell I’m going to let you do this assignment for me Mark, I’d rather take the F—“ the soft kiss he placed on the corner of your lips made it aware that Mark meant business. Whenever he’d say something, he meant it. However, you refused to allow him to work on something you kept pushing back for months. Your essay was your full responsibility and it wouldn’t be fair for your boyfriend to have to write something he didn’t benefit from in such a small amount of time. God, he really did love you.

“The more time you spend trying to talk me out of helping you when I already made my mind up, the less time I’ll have to work on this paper. I don’t want you stressing over this; you’re already so worn-out as it is. This’ll be a piece of cake babe—you just sit on the bed and look pretty while I get started.”

Mark had to be a figment of your imagination. There was no way someone as thoughtful, kind-hearted, selfless and caring as him could exist. Most people would groan at the idea of having to do more work and if it were anyone else, you were sure you would’ve gotten a completely different reaction. You were quick to pull him in to a tight hug and left multiple chaste kisses all across of his face.

“I love you—more than I can ever fathom in to words Mark Tuan. You don’t understand how much this means to me—I’ll do anything you ask of me. Ugh, I will never get over how amazing you are and I could never thank you enough for all that you do for me.” He cupped your cheek and placed a wet kiss on your jaw.

“Anything huh? Maybe you could do some loads of my laundry, but that’s pretty much it—oh. I um—maybe you could—ah never mind.” You looked at him in curiosity and giggled when you saw the apples of his cheeks grow pink with embarrassment. Whatever he was probably referring to had to be something he was shy about. Your boyfriend was the definition of an introvert and he had a hard time asking people questions or even favors; this sometimes also included you. If you wanted to know what was on his mind, you’d have to pry it out of him.

“What is it babe?” He gave you the most adorable shrug and nibbled on his bottom lip as he began to look everywhere around the room but at you.

“Don’t feel as if you have to do this for me, I really don’t expect anything from you, but I wouldn’t mind a blow job if you’re up for it later.” One thing you loved the most about Mark, was how gentle and awkward he would get whenever it came to initiating sex or insinuating that he wanted a sexual favor from you. It was cute, yet it also turned you on for some reason. Maybe it was because he’d act totally innocent and submissive since he never wanted you to feel uncomfortable and he preferred to take things at your pace; but once the two of you actually made love, his attitude would take a 360 degree turn.

Sex with Mark was your favorite past time; he could get very naughty and rough in bed, but he could also take things slow and sensually. It really depended on the mood, but your boyfriend was an extremely generous and passionate lover. He knew what you liked, what positions you enjoyed the most, how to lick, bite and suck on all your sensitive body parts in order to elicit any kind of needy reaction out of you. It really boggled your mind that someone like Mark—someone so perfect without a flaw at all actually existed and what was harder to believe was that you were the lucky girl who was extremely blessed to call him yours.

That was something you would never take for granted; nor did you think you would ever get used to having him in your life. You seductively made your way on to his lap and began leaving sloppy kisses against his nape. This beautiful man sitting in front of you was willing to do your homework in order to prevent you from having a mental breakdown. He was willing to sacrifice his time to work on an assignment that wasn’t his responsibility to take care of just so that you didn’t have to suffer. Honestly, what world war did you fight and win in your past life to be the one that receives Mark’s love every single day? Whatever it is that you did to be able to call Mark your boyfriend, you would do it again and again if it meant having him in each and every single lifetime.

“Fuck—babe—as good as that feels, I only have three hours—y/n—you know, I’m actually thinking about taking you on your offer—just settle for the F and I’ll get settled in between your pretty thighs—“ you couldn’t help but stifle back a giggle once you heard the soft whine fall from his lips after you got up from off his lap, but he was right. He was already doing your homework for you, the least you could do was sit on the side and prevent yourself from bothering him.

“Oh yeah—you’re definitely taking me down your throat as soon as I turn in this paper. Now do as I said and sit down on the bed. Your presence alone is such a distraction and fuck—I’ve been hard since this morning when you walked out in my shirt. Damnit y/n—I really want to have my way with you right now. Please use this experience for future reference. I can’t believe I’m being cockblocked by a research paper of all things.”

You watched as Mark quickly skimmed through the rubric; you knew your boyfriend wanted to make sure he understood the material before typing out a bunch of nonsense. The last thing he needed was to spend all this time and effort looking for resources, citing them and looking for both spelling and grammatical errors only to earn you a bad grade. If Mark wasn’t there and you just so happened to find out about the essay, you wouldn’t have even attempted to write anything.

Your mindset in college was that if it seemed impossible, you would just give up on it entirely. Mark’s mindset however, was more realistic and you wished you had the motivation and enthusiasm that seemed to live in his bloodstream. Watching him so focused as he typed away like nothing was such an inspiring sight. English was one of your boyfriend’s favorite subjects; he loved reading all kinds of books—from murder mystery to comics and romance novels, Mark always preferred reading over watching a movie or television shows.

But, if there was anything he enjoyed more than reading, it was writing. Normally, the day his professor would assign him an essay, proposal, research paper or journal entry was the same day he would complete it and turn it it. There had to be something wrong with him. What person in their right mind genuinely enjoyed writing thousands of words, making sure there weren’t any errors and that the paper in its entirety actually made sense? You knew not to bother him, but you couldn’t help staring at him in all his handsome glory. His brows were furrowed and he began biting his lip in concentration; you didn’t think it was possible for someone to look like a model straight from an ad or a magazine while typing out an English paper.

“Can I get you something to eat or drink babe?” He quickly shook his head in disagreement without even looking up—he was too focused in whatever it was he could be typing.

“I think I need a couple of kisses though, you know—to help me reenergize.” You playfully rolled your eyes at his cheeky request before getting up and placing a few soft kisses against his mouth.

“So how’s it coming out?” He scrunched his nose before giving you a slight shrug.

“If I’m being honest, this probably isn’t my best work, but I’m sure it’s fine. I’m almost done by the way—so I’ll have you look it over to make sure it’s to your liking and then you can turn it in. Maybe you should start preparing your gratuity and tie your hair up. Might as well take your pants off while you’re at it—ow! I’d be careful if I were you baby. I might just replace your name with mine and confuse the shit out of your professor—yeah, that’s what I thought. Now, be a good girl and return back to bed.”

As much as you wanted to continue messing around with him; only because you were enjoying how demanding he would get when he was under stress, you knew better than to distract him. You decided to find something else to occupy yourself with as Mark returned to typing profusely at your laptop. It was extremely fascinating how he didn’t even take a second to think about what to write. The words seemed to just flow out of his brain like it was the easiest thing in the world and you were growing envious of his ability to come out with such quality and detailed work in such a small amount of time.

Around twenty minutes later, Mark let out a sigh of relief and brought his hands behind his back—a sign that he was finally finished. He motioned for you to walk over to your desk and had you sit on his lap. Out of habit, he snaked his arms around your waist and placed his chin on your shoulder; wanting to be as close to you as possible.

“Ten pages, twelve sources and it’s only 9:15. Tell me what you think baby.”

Right as you finished reading just the first paragraph alone, you were at a loss for words. Even if you were to start writing this paper when you first received the assignment from your professor, you were sure nothing you could write would be at least half as amazing as this paper was. It wasn’t repetitive—nor did he use nonsense words or anything you were sure you probably would have added in. He put all his sources in alphabetical order and inserted page numbers at the bottom of each page.

You could see why Mark’s previous English professor had asked him on multiple occasions to be her TA. The word brilliant wasn’t even enough to describe the kind of student Mark was. For someone who never really cared about reading English papers; whether it was an assignment for class, or when you had to give constructive criticism on one of your fellow classmate’s work, you would always skim through their essays—but you found yourself reading each and every single word Mark had typed out. His essay had you hooked; it was one of those writings that you were sure anyone would actually enjoy having to read. How was he able to finish all of that so quickly? By the end of it, you were in tears and you didn’t even realize you were crying until you felt Mark giggle in to your neck.

“Why are you crying Bub? I don’t think what I’ve written is at all that depressing. I literally wrote about biodegradation and how to save the earth—“

You didn’t give him any chance to continue his explanation as you roughly smashed your lips against his. Mark did so many things for you on a daily basis. He didn’t have to say he loved you for you to know that he did—his actions spoke for him. Knowing how most guys could be, you were sure no boyfriend would waste his time completing an assignment, especially one so time consuming needed all your knowledge and effort—for his girlfriend.

College was rough on everyone; so to take on something you thought was extremely difficult in order to prevent you from stressing out more than you already were—it made tears fall from the brim of your eyelids. You continued your ministrations, licking his lips and bringing both the bottom and the top in between your teeth before sucking on his tongue. Feeling him hum in to your mouth sent warmth to your core. In your relationship, you were the more extroverted and talkative one. You could go on and on about any subject you were passionate about.

However, just like Mark; you were more about actions than words—mainly because you felt like there weren’t enough words in the English dictionary to actually form sentences that would describe just how much you loved Mark wholeheartedly and exactly what he meant to you. When you felt his excitement press up against your ass, you knew what was right about to happen; but you wanted him to know verbally how grateful you were for him before showing him physically.

“Fuck—how did you—what kind of drug are you on Mark? That was one of the best essays I’ve ever read. There’s no way my professor is going to believe I wrote that. This is honors worthy—you’re—I can’t even find a word good enough to describe you. Otherworldly? Wonderful? Perfect? I love you so much Mark. Fuck, do I love you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don’t know what I did to have you in my life, but I would do it again and again to have you forever. I know you hate when I say this, but it’s the truth baby—I really don’t deserve you. Thank you, not just for typing this essay—fuck I still can’t even process this entire situation you need to sign up for scholarships or some shit you are so fucking intelligent and such a hardworking student. But—thank you for loving me. You really are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I am forever grateful for whoever it was that decided to bless me with you as my soulmate. I love you Mark Tuan.” His wide grin and the way he looked at you so adoringly made your heart melt.

“I’d do anything for you—you know that baby. It’s just—seeing you so distressed—so frustrated and unhappy with school, watching you overwork yourself to the bone—it fucking sucks. Especially when I see you beating yourself up over grades you have no control over. I know you try your best in every single thing that you do and I know that it’s easy to forget some important things and fall behind, but I will always be there to catch you—and to assure you that everything is going to be okay. You’re my person y/n—it’s my life duty to take care of you. However—don’t get used to this baby, as much as I love you—trust me—I love you with every breath I take and with every beat of my heart—but shit, that was rough. Oh—and I never want to hear you say you don’t deserve me ever again. You take care of me just as much as I take care of you. It’s a team effort babe. Now, with that being said, you caused a big problem in my pants over half an hour ago and I think it’s time that you solved it.”

#got7 imagines #mark tuan #got7 #mark tuan imagines #got7 mark

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delaixplaysgames · 4 years

Text

Gift Cards (Minagi Tsuzuru x Reader)

Ship: Minagi Tsuzuru/Reader

Rating: sfw (one swear word)

WC: 2,901 words

A/N: The second reader insert I’ve written and I’m still not good at it lol. But I’m having a fun time! I’m also the absolute worst at giving stories titles and ending stories. Apologies in advance!

You visited the school library very often. Everyone was too preoccupied with whatever they were doing (whether it was studying or procrastinating), so it was a good place to study and work on assignments. You recognized some faces that also visited frequently; some of them were in your classes and others just came so often that you knew their faces.

However, there was one specific person that always caught your eye. You didn’t have any classes with him, but he came to the library so often that his face became recognizable. Seeing the way he was so focused on his work was admirable. It was kind of cute to see his whole face light up when something started clicking in his head. And seeing him occasionally doze off a little while working was funny, too.

Long story short, he was extremely charming. He looked like the kind of person who really looks out for others. You wouldn’t be surprised if there were other people with crushes on him.

At some point, you started sitting in the same area as this university student. It’d be weird if you sat too close to him, so you’d always sit at a different table on the opposite side of him. That way, you could still steal glances of him diagonally and from far away. Was it a bit creepy? Yes. Did you still do it? Also yes.

You eventually found out that his name was “Tsuzuru” when two other men (both of them were extremely well built and just a bit intimidating) came across him in the library one day. You overheard them talking about Tsuzuru’s next script.

His next script? So he’s a playwright… Well, if he’s in this area, then does he write for a theatre troupe on Veludo Way?

After Tsuzuru packed up and left with his two friends, you discreetly looked up “Tsuzuru Veludo Way” on your phone. Surprisingly, you were able to find his name on the Mankai Company website, where you found out that Minagi Tsuzuru was both the personal playwright of the troupe and a member of their Spring Troupe as well.

You gently slammed your head on the table, trying to not make too loud of a noise. This was definitely starting to approach stalker territory.

Months of watching Tsuzuru from afar passed. You kept sitting in the same area as him in the library when you had the chance. You watched a few of Mankai Company’s plays, especially if Tsuzuru was one of the actors in the play. However, you still couldn’t work up the courage to just go up to him and initiate a conversation with your crush.

He was so immersed in his work in the library that it was hard to approach him. When you’d leave the Mankai Theater, you’d chicken out and run out of the theater before the actors come out to thank the guests for coming. You were fairly sure that he still hasn’t noticed your creepy behavior. As relieving as it sounds, it doesn’t erase the fact that it’s creepy. You were much too shy and nervous for your own good, but you knew that you had to take the initiative one day.

One early morning, on your way to your favorite area in the library, you found Tsuzuru completely asleep at his work area. You smile to yourself at the sight as you set your things down at a different table. This area wasn’t crowded at all. In fact, it was just the two of you so far. It must’ve been a perfect time for him to sneak a nap in.

It must be hard balancing writing scripts and school work… Plus, he probably has rehearsals with his troupe. Yikes, Minagi-san needs a coffee… coffee?

You reached into your backpack and grabbed your wallet. Inside your wallet was a gift card to a nearby coffee shop that you received from your aunt not too long ago. You haven’t used it at all and you figured that Tsuzuru needed this much more than you.

You grabbed a cute dandelion themed sticky note and pen from your backpack, wrote a message as neat as you possibly could, and stuck it onto the gift card. You get up from your seat again and nervously make your way towards Tsuzuru. You were mentally begging him to not wake up as you approached his little station and slowly slided the gift card on top of his laptop’s keyboard.

You sighed in relief, knowing that your mission was successful, and snuck another look at Tsuzuru’s sleeping face. He looked so peaceful and cozy with his head nested in his folded arms. You smiled again at the sight, sincerely hoping that he’ll enjoy the free coffees he could get from the gift card. Happy with the good deed you did, you turn back around to return to your seat.

And then you realized the flaw in your plan. There was no one but you and Tsuzuru in that area. If you stayed around and Tsuzuru woke up, then he would’ve figured out that it was you who left him the gift card. You quickly stuffed everything into your bag and dashed to a different part of the library.

“Tsuzuru? Hey, Tsuzuru?”

He felt someone shake his shoulder a bit and groggily blinked his eyes. He yawned a bit and looked over his shoulder to see who woke him up. “Huh? Oh, hey, Fushimi-san. Guess I must’ve dozed off.”

“You did another all-nighter to finish your paper last night, right? Are you alright?” Omi clearly looked concerned for his health.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I was reading some lecture notes and ...Huh?” When Tsuzuru went to gesture to his laptop screen, he noticed a gift card on his keyboard. The card had a pastel green sticky note with dandelion seeds blowing away from the flower at the bottom. “Where did this come from? Did you put this here, Fushimi-san?”

Omi shook his head. “Nope. I didn’t do that, but there’s a note on it. What does it say?”

“Let’s see… ‘You seemed a bit exhausted when I passed by and I think you need the caffeine more than I do! I hope this can keep you running through the day, but don’t forget to get a good night’s sleep!’” Tsuzuru flipped the card over and saw that it was a card for a coffee shop close to campus. “There’s no name on here, but wow, this is really nice of this person.”

Tsuzuru looked around the study area, but it was just him and Omi there. They must’ve come while he was asleep and before Omi woke him up. He really wished the person left a name or something; this person deserved a big thank you because he desperately needed the coffee.

“Maybe they just wanted to do a good deed for someone who needed it,” Omi suggested.

Tsuzuru scratched his head, still stuck on the idea of thanking the mystery person. He put the idea to rest for the time being and slipped the gift card and the note into his wallet. The gift card could get him at least five coffees from this shop. If this person was kindly giving him the money for coffee, then he better not waste it.

Ever since then, you got into a bit of a habit of leaving little gifts for Tsuzuru every once in a while. It’d only be at times he left his seat in the library or was asleep like he was before. Whenever you went to watch a Mankai Company play, you’d leave a little something in Tsuzuru’s gift bin. You doubted that he would even notice it, but you made sure to use dandelion-themed message cards or sticky notes when you wanted to leave a message.

You also made sure to leave the area as quick as you came. You were fine with just leaving him little presents once in a while and not being recognized for them. If you had the chance to see him find the gift, you felt enough satisfaction from seeing him smile. It felt like a good way to show how you felt for Tsuzuru while not being hindered by your shyness. Just knowing that he appreciated them was enough for you.

One Saturday night, you went to watch another great play at Mankai Company featuring Tsuzuru as one of the actors. It was always a treat to see him on the stage and see how his stories unfold. Whoever was in charge of the outfits and hair styling really knew how to make Tsuzuru look even more charming than he already was.

Since finals week was slowly approaching, you decided to get him another gift card to the same coffee shop from before since you had a feeling that he’d need the caffeine. You put it in a dandelion-themed envelope and left a card telling him how much you appreciated all the hard work that he put into his writing and his acting. You also told him to get some rest when he gets the chance since he’s probably exhausted from the busyness between school and the troupe this week.

After the curtain call ended, you followed the flow of the guests flooding back into the lobby. A lot of the guests liked to stick around to personally greet the actors, but you just wanted to leave the present in Tsuzuru’s bin and head home.

You just pulled the envelope out of your bag when someone else accidentally bumped into you. It was just hard enough for you to lose grip on the envelope and it fell to the ground.

“I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to!” the person said apologetically, leaning down to pick up the envelope for you.

“No, it’s fine! It’s not a big-“ You clammed up the moment you realized who was picking up your envelope.

It was the one and only Minagi Tsuzuru who was kneeling down and holding your gift to him in his hand. He looked up at you with a bit of worry.

“You aren’t hurt anywhere, are you?”

You weren’t able to form a decent sentence and just shook your head. The fact that Tsuzuru was actually talking directly to you wasn’t settling in your mind. You probably looked absolutely insane with the deep blush forming on your cheeks and the steam practically coming out of your ears.

He smiled. “That’s good.” He was about to hold the envelope up for you as he got up when he noticed that his own name was on it. “Wait, this is for me? Thanks so much! I really appreciate it!”

“U-Uh… y-yeah…”

“I’ll be sure to read it when…” His voice trailed off when something caught his eye. He was silent for a moment and then realized that he left you hanging. “O-oh, sorry. I just saw your handwriting and thought about how nice it looks.”

You looked up at him with wide eyes. “R-really…?” It was kind of embarrassing to hear your crush compliment something about you.

“Y-yeah, it’s really easy to read. You have good penmanship. You know, I feel like I’ve seen it before on some other cards that I’ve gotten here…” Tsuzuru peeked up at you. “... Or at the library.”

“H...Huh?” Your heart stopped immediately. He didn’t just say that, did he?

“You… you always use letters and sticky notes with dandelions on them, don’t you? After noticing that, I kinda started recognizing your handwrit-”

“U-Um!” You quickly interrupted him, shaking from both anxiety and fear. “I-I… R-Really sorry, but I… I’ve got a test on Monday that I, uh…. Gotta study! Bye!”

“W-wait!”

You weren’t able to hear him out because you ran out of the lobby as fast as you possibly could, leaving Tsuzuru absolutely in shock.

The following Monday, for lack of better terms, you felt like absolute shit. You spent a good portion of the weekend moping over the fact that Tsuzuru completely found out who you are and most likely thought you were creepy. The other portion of the weekend was spent studying for the test in order to stop moping over Tsuzuru.

You started regretting starting this habit and cringed at yourself every time you thought of it. It didn’t matter that you passed your test thanks to all those hours of studying; your crush found out about all of your weird antics! You felt like your love life hit an absolute low.

You found yourself passing by the library, something you always did after your last class. You stopped walking for a short moment before deciding to just walk past the building. As much as you wanted to go in and sit in silence, you were scared that you’d come across Tsuzuru. Mentally unprepared for that humiliation, so you sighed and started to go head home.

“Hey, wait up!”

You didn’t think much of the voice and kept walking away until someone grabbed your wrist. You turned around and saw Tsuzuru stopping you in your tracks. Both of you were quiet; Tsuzuru was catching his breath and you were too surprised by his sudden interaction. His eyes were serious and it looked like he didn’t want to let you out of his sight any time soon.

“Um… M-Minagi-san?”

His eyes widened and that serious look in his eyes was replaced with a more embarrassed one. He quickly retracted the hand holding your wrist and stuffed it in his pocket. “U-uh, s-sorry! I-I just left the library to wait for you outside but then I saw you leaving so I, uh…”

“Y-You were gonna… What?”

Tsuzuru nodded shyly. “I was looking for you this morning, but you never came around. I had a feeling you were trying to avoid me, so I thought it’d be better to try my luck and just wait outside this time.” He laughed shyly. “Guess I got really lucky, huh?”

You rubbed your arm awkwardly. He might’ve felt lucky but you felt the exact opposite of that. You weren’t in the mood for any reminder of what happened on Saturday. “U-Um, did you need me for something?”

“Yeah. I wanted to give you something.” He shuffled through his backpack and held out a small envelope. “I...It’s a gift card for that coffee shop. I’m sure you didn’t know this, but I actually love going to that shop. I wanted to return the favor, so uh… here.”

You took the envelope and looked at it in surprise. Of all the things you thought he’d say, you didn’t expect him to give you a present. “Um… thanks.”

“Oh, and these, too.” Tsuzuru pulled out a small treat box from his bag and held that out to you. “They’re cookies. You said that you had a text today, right? I figured you might want something sweet after a test.”

“Y-You made these, Minagi-san?!” The cookies that you could see from the plastic window looked professionally made.

He laughed. “No, not me! Someone in the dorm I live in made them. He’s really good at cooking and baking. He made a lot, so I packed some for you.”

Your cheeks felt warm. You really weren’t expecting any presents from Tsuzuru and having his attention like this was somewhat embarrassing. “Y-You didn’t have to… I’m just your average fan and--”

He smiled softly. “I did it because I wanted to. You always put really nice letters and notes on the gifts. Maybe it’s because you see how stressed I can get in the library, but you always seemed to say the right things or give me something when I need it the most.” Tsuzuru scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “And as creepy as this sounds… I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while now. Even before you started leaving presents for me. I just didn’t know how to start a conversation with you.”

You laughed a bit. “That’s nowhere near as creepy as leaving presents for someone you’ve never talked to.”

“Well, it’s just as creepy to accept presents left at your seat by some mystery person,” he retorted, laughing with you. “Speaking of which, I think it’s time I learned your name. You already know mine, and I can’t keep calling you a mystery person forever.”

Finally relieved that he didn’t find you freaky, you told him your name.

“(Full Name)-san, huh? It really suits you.” Tsuzuru liked the way your name rolled off of his tongue and he was almost tempted to say it again just for the sake of it. Just thinking of your name brought a smile to his lips. “Well, you already know it, but my name is Minagi Tsuzuru. It’s nice to formally meet you, (Name)-san.”

You chuckled, thinking about how you never thought things would lead up to this. “It’s nice to formally meet you too, Minagi-san.”

He saw the way you smiled and he felt his cheeks warm up a bit more. “Are you doing anything after this? You see, I happen to have a gift card to that coffee shop, too,” he said in a joking manner. “Do you want to grab a coffee and talk a bit more there? I’ll pay for your coffee.”

You laughed at his little joke and nodded. “If I can pay for yours, then I’d love to!”

#Minagi Tsuzuru x Reader #a3! x reader #a3! imagines #Minagi Tsuzuru #a3! act! addict! actors!#act addict actors #reader insert #still don't know what to tag this lol

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ourstarscollided · 4 years

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jatp fanworks appreciation - day 3 (wips)

wip wednesday - I didn’t think I wanted to join in on this day for my own stuff considering I’ve never posted anything original for this fandom, but I think this might just be the little boost I need from myself to actually finish the wips that I have sitting around. I am peer pressuring myself and holding myself accountable by posting this - or at least that’s what I’m telling myself. Most of the past 6 mths has just been me screaming to no one in a Google Doc, so here are some things I’ve been ruminating about over the last 6 months (and if my secret agenda is to get other people to write about it so I don’t have to? Then that’s between you and me).

Everything’s under a read more because I like giving context and that usually spirals out of control!?!?

If you would like to see more from any of the below, feel free to shoot me an ask/message and I can definitely share some more! (Or you can just come yell at me about JATP in general.)

Strangers Fake Dating AU // Julie x Luke

I’m a simple person. I see a prompt, I latch onto it, and then I completely miss the entire point of the prompt as my imagination goes wild for no real reason. This really was supposed to be a super short drabble, but it manifested into a 3k+ thing that isn’t even finished.

Julie’s not really sure what she’s supposed to do now. Nothing has ever prepared her for a situation in which she’s supposed to pretend to be a stranger’s girlfriend, especially if that situation involves parents. Does she continue this ruse? Can she come up with a quick enough excuse to tell this Luke character that she actually can’t stay? What if this is just all an elaborate plan to kidnap her? Has she been listening to too many true crime podcasts? Why does Luke smell so good? Does he know how to cook? Why does his shirt not have sleeves? What-

“I can hear you thinking from here.” Her head whips up at the sound of Luke’s voice, which is now at a whisper and kind of frantic. “I just- I just really needed to get my mom off my back, so I kinda need you to pretend to be my girlfriend. Just for the night. I swear I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

Julie studies Luke’s face and it’s nearly impossible to not cave under his gaze, which can only be simply described as ‘puppy dog eyes’. She finds herself smiling back, letting out a huff, “I hope you like lasagna.” And the grin that spreads across the boy’s face is enough for her to know that he’s incredibly relieved that she agreed.

“I’m Luke by the way. Luke Patterson.”

(Okay, he’s kinda cute. And no one this cute is a serial killer. Right?)

She gives a small smile back, “I’m Julie.”

5+1 alive!Juke AU // Julie x Luke

Inspired by paper - LANY

This is one of the first things I ever felt the urge to write down back in September because I love exploring the idea of how two people can appear to be the perfect relationship on the outside, but are actually fighting their own demons. Especially when it comes to celebrities and people who are in the spotlight. It’s basically a 5+1 fic about the moments from other people’s perspectives who happen to orbit around Julie/Luke that all revolve around paper. My outline for this is so long because I can’t manage to narrow it down, and there’s zero cohesiveness but I do have little things jotted down.

“Hey little man,” Luke’s knelt down to match his 5 year-old height, and a hand extends out to him for a high five, “What are you doing here?”

His eyes flicker to the left, towards his own apartment door, where his mom is giving him an encouraging nod. “ I- I just wanted to-” he stutters and finds himself looking at his feet as he shuffles back and forth on the spot. “I- I drew you guys something!”

He shoves the paper out towards the older boy in front of him, but doesn’t look up.

Reincarnation AU // Julie x Luke

I had a random thought in December about how magical it is that Julie and Luke are so tied to one another that their love transcends time and space, which will always lead them back to one another. I remember reading a book a long time ago about how the main character is fated to die at a certain age, and that kind of sparked this little idea. I can’t bring myself to actually plot out every single timeline right now, but I did manage to write a little bit.

It will never be as complex as Rosie’s idea and all the wonderful additions in the link here, and I don’t really plan on it being anything more than a small idea. But I really do still think someone should write some sort of reincarnation AU cause I’d hop on that so fast!!

“Okay- that’s not- Luke. You seriously just ran away?”

“What was I supposed to do Alex? We all know how this ends.”

His friend looks at him, face painted in understanding and he sighs, “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

Because it’s true, Alex does know, so does Reggie and Bobby. Most importantly, so does Luke. It’s the exact same tragic love story every time.

Call it a curse or fate or destiny. Maybe it’s because Mercury is in retrograde. Whatever. It always ends the same way - with a heartbreaking goodbye, a whisper of the promise that they’ll find each other again, and the possibility of a happy ending. He’s said the same goodbye at least 734 times, but it’s not like he’s counting or anything. Fuck the universe and its mystical ways.

Competitive Alex // Alex x Willie

No real thoughts or reasons for this other than I just think I self-projected my need to play board games with people in real life into a fic. And maybe a little bit of my competitiveness onto Alex and then threw in Willie because I think he would be able to handle it while also finding it endearing. I also have written nothing about the actual competitiveness, it’s just 2k words of Alex crushing on Willie.

“Wait,” his eyes dart between the three boys, “You both know Willie? How come I’ve never met him?”

His roommates look at each other, and there’s a smirk on Luke’s face when he says, “Actually Alex, I think you have. Remember that time you got really drunk after one of our shows?”

Oh no. He really hopes that it’s not the time he’s thinking of, so he tries to sound nonchalant. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Luke.”

“The night we played at that tiny bar at the edge of the campus! We got paid in those tiny colourful shots?” He doesn’t really know where Luke is going with this, so he’s slowly nodding along. “And you were super upset that the hot dog vendor at the end of the street was closed?”

Dear Julie, Love Mom series

I made myself sad with this thought when I first watched the show and was talking to my friend about how I think that Rose would’ve left messages for the Molina family, especially when we found out that Wake Up was actually from her mom. I wrote a bigger explanation for it here.

Anyways, I started with the one for Julie’s wedding and it kind of became an 8k monster with three different POVs?!? As much as I love how I wrote this, I feel too unsure about my writing to share it in full, so you will get carefully selected looks alkfe. (I’m also kind of stuck on some of the more emotional scenes and I may or may not have procrastinated by photoshopping a moodboard for it.)

Excerpt 1 (Julie POV): A look into where I’m going with this whole letters from Rose thing.

The key clicks into place, and with a turn, the latch falls open. She’s not sure what she wants to find in the box, and she’s too scared to think about it really. All she knows is that this was the sign from her mom that she was waiting for all week, and in true Rose fashion, her mom had managed to give it to her, even if at the last second. Her dad turns the box to face Julie, and gestures to her to open up the lid.

Tucked inside is a VHS tape, the words ‘For Julie, on your wedding day’ written in her mom’s cursive on the cover. Some loose glitter and confetti fall back into the box as she reaches in to pick up the tape and turn it over in her hands. There’s a little purple butterfly etched on the back, the same one that’s been drawn on all the other messages that her mom had left her. Her finger automatically finds its way, tracing the shape of the small doodle.

“Do you want me to leave you alone, mija?”

Excerpt 2 (Julie POV): This part has absolutely nothing to do with the main plot of the story, but it self-inserted itself into this fic after @tangledstarlight and I talked about You’re Still the One by Shania Twain being their first dance. This whole scene came to me at 4am one night and might be the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever written.

They knew that when they had asked Reggie to be in charge of the first dance performance, that they (and Alex) weren’t allowed to veto any of his ideas. Luke had warned Julie that that would be a mistake, but the giddiness that radiated off of Reggie when she had told him he could have free reign was worth it. She just hadn’t thought that he would actually take it to heart and run with it.

Sure, they had chosen You’re Still the One by Shania Twain as their first dance song, and sure it was more or less a country song, but she didn’t really imagine that she’d be staring at her adoptive brother, Carlos and her Dad wearing cowboy hats and boots at her wedding. They had somehow managed to ditch their Flynn-approved suit jackets and were sporting a taupe-coloured suede-textured vest over their dress shirts. If she looked closely, she could see that they had somehow also found some gaudy looking bolo ties with a matching set of ornamental clasps to wear. When she envisioned her wedding, she really didn’t expect that her first (public) dance as a married couple would be a full-on Western themed occasion. The only exception was Alex, who had settled on his cajon in the back, still in his pink suit, eyes rolling when she met his gaze. But even she knew how there was no real annoyance in the blonde’s reaction or else he wouldn’t also be wearing one of the tacky ties around his neck as well.

“I’m gonna seriously kill him.” She hears Luke grumble under his breath, only low enough for her to hear. But she’s still too busy giggling to actually be mad, and she knows that Luke isn’t really going to kill Reggie. At least she doesn’t think so.

Excerpt 3 (Luke POV): Idk man. My mind went “What about Luke?” and I said “You’re right!! What about him?!?”

He doesn’t realize that he’s just been silently staring at the woman in front of him, until a gentle voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Julie’s peering at him from under her eyelashes, a curious look on her face.

“You just-” he gives a little shake of his head, trying to come up with the right words. He wants to tell her she’s beautiful. Stunning. A wicked beauty. But she’s more than that - she’s almost angelic. “I can’t believe you’re my wife.”

“Luke, we’ve been legally married for like, a whole year.” Her lips are quirked up in a grin, amusement in her voice. “You’ve only just realized that now?”

“That’s different.”

“Yeah? Different how?”

This feels a little strange to post and a little like my inner self seeking validation but let’s not talk about that.

Kskssj anyways present me @ future me: finish one of these because writing has been really cathartic for you and you didn’t think it would bring you so much joy!!!

#gotta tag this so that it doesnt ever show up in any tags on tumblr.#i like that what got me to post about my writing was a fanworks appreciation week. but i will say that a couple weeks ago when i was feeling #extra good about my writing. i made a promise to myself to post smthg for the 6 mth mark of jatp and that kinda got backtracked because of #my requirements to be an adult and my general insecurities about putting out content that is mine for the works to judge sjsjsj #so this is me making it up to myself by sharing some things.#thank you rosie for indulging me in my ramblings. you’ve really given me confidence in my work even tho you’ve never read anything of mine.#just know I APPRECIATE YOU A LOT!!!!#i hope you dont mind that i tagged you!!!#anyways this is gonna get thrown into my queue for wednesday and whenever it posts is whenever it will post.#i also typed this on my phone (i DO NOT RECOMMEND IT) so sorry if the formatting is janky. i didnt wanna give myself time to second guess #myself and end up not posting it. sjjs #jatp fanworks appreciation week #sometimes i write #personal #<- need to come up with tags for myself welp #sunset queue

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ryukisanemochild · 4 years

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struggling with your plot?

okay, I know I'm not the only writer who struggles A LOT with plot. like, I have the characters, worldbuilding is done, I also have a begging and an end, but what the hell is gonna happen in the story itself?

here's my tip for planning your whole story very easily! it worked incredibly well for me (I plotted in a week a very complex story that I’ve been struggling with for months). it might not suit everyone but maybe it will work for you!

(also sorry in advance if there are mistakes, I’m not fluent in english.)

okay, first, try to have a begging and an end. if you don't, it's fine, but having an idea of the end will really help. also don't put too much thinking into it, it's just a direction to help you know where you’re going. also you can totally change it later if you find a better idea.

now, think of your story as a series.

I mean a series like Games of Thrones, Sex Education, Rick and Morty or whatever you're into. don’t worry, you will come back to the novel format once you're done, but this should help you to build your plot.

first of all decide how many seasons you want your story to have. this means dividing your story into big parts. for this you only need to have a vague idea of your story. if you have none at all, make up one, even if it's poor. you can for example have something like “season 1: Anna and Lucie fall in love. season 2: they confessed to each other, agreed not to see each other again but fail every time. season 3: one of them is getting married, the other one decides to stop the marriage.” in this case the ending is the two characters finally getting together - or not. the most important is to know how and when each season begins and ends.

once you have your seasons, decide how many episodes you want in each one. it's better if every season have the same number of episodes, but it's not an obligation.

now let’s focus on the first season. decide how every episode begins and ends, and what happens in it - without to much details. again, if you really don’t know what could happen, try to make up a story, no matter if it’s good or not. example : Anna meets Lucie at the office, and they immediately feel attracted to each other. a few weeks later they go on a business trip together, during which they get to know each other better. on the last night of the trip, they’re both drunk and they kiss. that’s it, no need to be more precise! one sentence per episode is enough. do this for your whole first season and write everything down. for me it’s easer to plan this on paper. so i made a line for each season, and then divided it in five episodes because that’s what works for my story. i wrote the global event in one or two word (ex: ”they meet”, “trip part 1”, “trip part 2 + kiss” etc) on the top of the line, and how the episode ends (ex: Anna receives a text from Lucie: “we need to talk”). for me it looks like that:

now it’s time to add details. try to picture each episode it in your head as if you were watching it. this is really helpful to me; for example it’s easier for me to imagine the first scene of the first episode as if it was a movie than to write the first words. write down what happens in the episode, but with more details than in the last step. you can extend each sentence to a short paragraph. to get back to our example: how do Anna and Lucie meet? what is their first interaction? what happens next? this, again, is pure imagination. you can invent anything. and don't worry if it's cliché or not as good as you'd like to be. remember it's only a first draft of your plot! also think about the characters: how would they act in this precise situation? what situation could make them evolve? when in doubt, put them in uncomfortable, painful or any extreme situation. this should put a bit of action into the story. do this for every episode until the end of the season. also, try think of a cliffhanger for every episode's end. doesn't have to be a big one, small revelations are good. (example: Anna learns that Lucie is her new neighbor.) the last episode’s end should have a big cliffhanger. (ex: a few days after Anna and Lucie’s first kiss, Anna discovers that Lucie is engaged.) it can also be helpful to decide the approximate length of your episodes, so you know how much action you can put into each one. on paper, for me, this step looks like that:

congrats! you now know the big lines of your first part of the story. but it’s not finished yet.

once you've roughly plotted the first season, it's time to get to the subplots. subplots add action and complexity to your plot. (if you don’t want any subplot in your story, you can skip the next two steps.) each subplot should be based on one character or a group of characters. do the same thing you did for the main plot: just invent a story. of course it is easier to say than to do, but remember it doesn’t have to be good. you can even take a story from another book or movie, and you’ll change it later. write this story down. for example: Anna’s sister just lost her job, so she decides to go back to her childhood dreams and open a restaurant. you can then develop on and on about every difficulty she meets on the way to achieve her dream. make her have money issues, meet new people, argue Anna who doesn’t believe she can make it... it’s the same process as for the main story: make a short paragraph about the big lines of the story, and then expand each sentence to another short paragraph. remember it’s not your main story, but write it as if it is. you can write this subplot from begging to end, or only to the end of the first season.

then divide this new story into episodes. again, think of the begging of the episode, and try to have a cliffhanger or a complicated situation at the end. write down what happens in each episode just like you did for the main plot.

repeat the last two steps as many times as you want. i think having three subplots is enough; if you choose to have more it may take some focus off the main plot, and will also make your story more complex. but of course that’s entirely up to you to chose! to keep the example of our love story, you can add the story of Anna’s best friend, who has feelings for Anna’s sister, and as a third subplot, show one of Anna’s coworkers who is extremely jealous of her and would make everything to destroy her life. making links between your subplots will add tension to your story; and of course, each subplot will add interest to the main plot. the link between a subplot and the main plot doesn’t have to be obvious from the beginning, but they all have to get together at the end. (also, when you start a story, you have to finish it. so no matter if it’s a happy ending, a heartbreaking one or in-between, each subplot should have a clear end.) write everything down! looks like this for me:

now, last step. let’s go really into the details. make a timeline of every episode, and write precisely what happens, from begging to end, as if you were writing the script for this episode to be filmed. this is the moment where you decide which scene is following which scene, how many space you want your subplots to take... for example, write what happens in the first scene: we see Anna at the office, having lunch. her friend who tells her there is a new director. right at this moment, Lucie comes in. she’s the new director. her eyes meet Anna’s eyes. Anna blushes. “oh no, she’s hot”. cut. next scene. we see Anna’s sister, crying. she’s just been fired. but then suddenly a picture falls from her bag. it’s her, age six, a cooker hat on the head. she smiles when she sees the picture, and wipes her tears from her face... etc etc! do this to every episode, take all the time you need to do this.

now you already have a pretty good idea of what’s going to happen in every episode of your first season. yayyy! at this point, ideas should start to come more easily. links will appear between your different plots and different characters, and this will bring even more ideas for plot twists, secrets, revelations... this is a great moment to go back and read everything you’ve written, as your story probably evolved since you started. don’t be afraid to change what you wrote, cut off or add some parts. as always, when in doubt, think about your characters. what would they do? what could happen to them that would make them grow up and learn? what relations are the most interesting to develop?

once you’ve finished the first season, go back to the first step, and do it all again for your second season, your third etc. of course you can have only one or two seasons, or for example decide each season will be a book for your novel series. again: this method worked for me. take what works for you, leave what doesn’t!

now, it’s time to write. forget the series (unless you have decided to send your series to Netflix), go back to the novel format, and write. write! this is also a very difficult and scary thing to do, but it should be easier now that you know what happens next. also don’t forget that everything you’ve planed can be changed at any moment! this is just a tool to help you. so get a cup of tea/coffee/anything strong, stop procrastinating, and just start writing.

your story is going to be amazing.

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jam-is-my-food · 4 years

Note

writing asks. all of them. ( for 50 uhh just write a paragraph about how hot emmy raver-lampman is in a suit please and thank you </3 )

fUCK YOU NESSIE

THAT’S IT IM DOING IT JUST TO SPITE YOU

this is gonna be long asf click keep reading at risk of death or boredom

1. Do you listen to music when you write?

not usually, it's distracting

2. Are you a pantser or plotter?

naturally pantser but if i wanna actually finish smth i gotta plot it hh

3. Computer or pen and paper?

computer i'm not a boOmer /j i so am

4. Have you ever been published, or do you want to be published?

bitch i wiSh

actually technically i was published in this anthology thing once? and i think i have a piece in a magazine somewhere on the internet i forget those are cool

but yeah bye getting a novel published is my d r e a m (gotta write a novel first tho lawl)

5. How much writing do you get done on an average day?

n o t m u c h

unless i get one of my bUrsts aka finishing a 2.3K almoons chapter before 8am the other week after procrastinating it for like two months

but yeah jdsghliuedskj it um depends often none

6. Single or multiple POV?

i answered that for kiri so i'll just copy paste it over loll

mmm it depends. usually i do single? but i do do multiple occasionally. i almost never do alternating chapters, though, it’s usually more like part one is narrated by person a, part two person b etc.

7. Standalone or series?

baha like i could ever write a series (please, please be jinxing yourself rn refster) aside from that one trilogy when i was 7 but uh yeah atm just standalones but a series would be so cool in future

8. Oldest WIP

the aforementioned trilogy. chronicles of clara. it is incREDIBLE. 10/10. so good. so, so good.

9. Current WIP

i haven't actually mentioned it on tumblr yet but hehehe it's called the wordweaver's apprentice it's fantasy and i'm v excited about it :DD that was ooc but :DD

10. Do you set yourself deadlines?

(also answered for kiri, copy-pasting over)

hahahahhahahuhdkjashdglauhsdaugediuskjlkehdsgihkdskhgdkjx

i? try?

it does not go well?

but then i never finish my projects?

send help pls im dying

11. Books and/or authors who influenced you the most

lmao the list is too long

12. Describe your perfect writing space

somewhere w/o distractions

13. Describe your writing process from idea to polished

hm. idea. that's cool. that's cool. write it down. hype myself up. forget about it within a week.

el em mayo

but like

f r LMAO

okay but fr fr idk i don't usually finish stuff but it'd be idea, brainstorm, plot (sort of), write, agonize, write, finish, throw in the other direction and never touch again bc revision whos she

14. How do you deal with self-doubts?

cry and spam my friends

15. How do you deal with writer’s block?

i don’t - mm. i don’t tend to get writer’s block? or like - idk what to classify as writer’s block? bc sometimes i get blocked for a certain story, but then i get really into like poetry or sum for a week so it’s fine idk

16. How many drafts do you need until you’re satisfied with a project?

o n e as i said i don't - revision is a no

17. What writing habits or rituals do you have?

uHhHhhhhh idk???

18. If you could collaborate with anyone, who would it be, and what would you write about?

*laughs in gfc*

19. How do you keep yourself motivated?

i don't. if you have any ideas please hmu i need it.

20. How many WIPs and story ideas do you have?

m a n y.

21. Who is/are your favourite character(s) to write?

mmmmmmmmm i love cass i haven't written her in too long but i think she's probably my most well-done character to date and i'm so proud of her badkghewiludkjs

22. Who is/are your favourite pairing(s) to write?

c y i l l

though possible imeini (ship name needs revision) in future we shall see (from twa) (the aforementioned newish wip)

23. Favourite author

there are Many

24. Favourite genre to write and read

fantasy maybe? ooh dystopia is fun

25. Favourite part of writing

everything about it when i'm motivated hh, my problem is getting more motivation

26. Favourite writing program

oh idk huh?

27. Favourite line/scene

idk?

28. Favourite side character

j o o s t

29. Favourite villain

i def have one but i forget

30. Favourite idea you haven’t started on yet

too many

31. Least favourite part of writing

motivating myself :/

32. Most difficult character to write

mmmm i'm not really in the throes of a wip atm so idk

33. Have you ever killed a main character?

yessir

34. What was the hardest scene you ever had to write?

drunk will was surprisingly difficult in a fun way. def not the hardest but yeah

35. What scene/story are you least looking forward to writing?

god idk

36. Last sentence you wrote

And then Mei was gone, and in the space that she'd filled, Imani whispered, "I wish I was like you."

37. First sentence or your current WIP

It is said that when we came to this stretch of Tatys land, it was empty.

38. Weirdest story idea you’ve ever had

mm there was one about anthropomorphic chickens battling sentient fruits, the fruits in question also being six-year olds

39. Weirdest character concept you’ve ever had

s e e a b o v e

40. Share some backstory for one of your characters

cass's mom used to have a drug problem & she would leave her alone for long stretches of time, she went to rehab and is now sober but it's where cass gets her abandonment issues from

41. Any advice for new/beginning/young writers?

just write! no one taught me how to do anything, and there's no rules per se, aside from basic grammatical stuff. do what you wanna do, don't worry about others' reactions. this is cliche asf but true.

42. How do you feel about love triangles?

mostly gross, but they can be good.

43. What do you do if/when characters don’t follow the outline?

adapt. i g o w i t h t h e f l o w.

44. How much research do you do?

not much usually, depends on the genre of story. i do as much as i feel i need to. and ofc i have the random writer search history.

45. How much world building do you do?

in the past, not much. twa (once again my new wip) is fantasy, though, so i' m attempting to remedy that.

46. Do you reread your own stories?

i do! it's fun to look back at them after a few years and see how much i've improved.

47. Best way to procrastinate

random character headcanons/doodle writey spurt thingies

48. What’s the most self-insert character/scene you’ve ever written?

bAHA this one scene in the cHrOniCLeS of cLaRa book two when this girl lisa who was 100% self-insert got annoyed at her little sister daisy (sister-insert) for chewing too loudly and then proceeded to use her wAtEr pOwErs to like flood the house. that part was less self-insert.

49. Which character would you most want to be friends with, if they were real?

bye that's so hard. c a d m u s & l a u r e n t tho cinnamon rolls are liFE.

50. Write a paragraph about how hot emmy raver-lampman is in a suit please and thank you

i don't gotta write my own bitch i have everything i need to plagiarize from right here

"Raver-Lampman’s enthusiasm is contagious. So is her laugh. It comes from deep inside, just like her voice, and it rings out — ricocheting off furniture and walls. Her head is shaved, all except for a distinctive swath of tight curls on the top and left side of her head. She has the tiniest septum ring in her nose, and a tattoo of what looks like a musical note behind her right ear."

- the clearly gay jessica belt

thank you for the ASKS darLING and thank you if you read this idk why or whether you're okay but yup

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rayatii · 4 years

Text

A (somehow both very biased and not very opinionated) review of the Met orchestra musicians concert “Song to the Moon” from February 21, 2021:

I had been bothering my Tumblr followers with my excitement over this event yesterday, so it felt only right for me to stop procrastinating and give an attempt for a review of the whole thing; I think this is actually my first time writing a lengthy review ever, and it will probably sound naïve and be an embarrassment for me in the future.

It started around 10 PM where I live. I sat in my bed with my computer while eating chocolate in order to stay awake throughout the whole thing, and trying not to spill any pieces on the sheets, excitedly waiting for this event, having actually bought myself a fifteen-buck ticket about three weeks prior with my parents’ credit card (they didn’t bat an eye when I asked their permission), happily knowing that the money was not going to end up in the pockets of the undeserving Met management.

Given the shitty Lebanese Wi-Fi and the fact that this was a livestream, I had been worried that I might miss significant chunks and get upset over the fact. The stream did glitch a few times for me during the first number (mainly because I had my computer on my constantly-moving knees, before settling it down next to me on the bed), but otherwise it never failed me.

But let’s get on with the review. The livestream began with a title card representing an animation of a lunar eclipse, displaying the title “Song to the Moon”. The concert started with a performance of Antonín Dvořák’s String Quintet No. 2 in G Major, Op. 77 by members of the Met orchestra. (actually, given that this is a Met musicians concert, I feel that they ought to be rightfully credited; Nancy Wu, 1st violin [for this piece], Bruno Eicher, 2nd violin [for this piece], Désirée Elsevier, viola, Kari Jane Docter, cello, and Leigh Mesh, double bass.)

I actually listened to a recording of this piece in preparation a few days prior, just so you guys know. Obviously, there were a few slightly flat notes that were played, but overall this was quite a pleasant rendition, and I still have the theme from the 2nd movement stuck in my head as I’m writing this. What I also liked was that at one point (i.e. when I was actually paying attention in that area) I could actually hear the notes being played by the double bass quite clearly, at least compared to the other recording that I had listened to.

Next on the program, the musicians were joined by soprano Angela Gheorghiu (i.e. my main reason for actually purchasing the ticket), who performed all the way from the Athenaeum of Bucharest, Romania, [1st instance of Raya uselessly gushing] looking ethereal in that shot that was shown of her just walking inside the building wearing that white dress and flowing cape, before the actual performance. Just a warning for you guys here; I love Gheorghiu (actually, it’s a bit of a celebrity “crush”), so please expect a little bit of somewhat controlled gushing here and there (partly physical appearance-wise, which are indicated by the bold, and which I deeply hate myself for). This part of the review is causing me even more anxiety for that reason.

She performed on the stage of a theater that was practically empty besides the pianist. She sang in two languages I do not understand at all, which helped me a bit with not getting too distracted by pronunciation. [2nd instance of Raya uselessly gushing] Before I get into what y’all actually came for, I just wanted to get it out of my system about how she had this appearance that defined “has aged, aged really well”. She had this kind of mature beauty, especially with her makeup, that seemed to give me the overall vibes of a pleasant middle-aged auntie. (well, this was very difficult embarrassing to write) Even her singing voice had this sound that can be described as having this sort of “mature” quality blended with the whole fact of her overall sound being “hers”. I hope I have made myself clear.

Okay, gushing finished for now, let’s move on with the review!

Apparently the footage taken in Bucharest and the one taken in New York were both filmed separately. I found it really mind-blowing how the audio of both got synchronized so perfectly.

The first gem Gheorghiu sang was an arrangement of “Tatăl nostru”; basically an early-19th-century musical setting of the Lord’s Prayer by Anton Pann that is still used to this day in the Romanian Orthodox Church (totally NOT reading off the PDF for the program notes provided on the website). I had obviously never heard this piece before; I had tried to (VERY lazily) look it up a bit, but to no avail. I unfortunately don’t remember much from this performance apart from everything mentioned before, but what I do know is that was rendered really epic thanks to the participation of principal Met percussionist Gregory Zuber alongside the string players.

Next was performed the aria after which the whole concert was named, the incredibly famous “Měsíčku na nebi hlubokém” (aka “Song to the Moon”) by Dvořák again, from the opera Rusalka. This version was actually arranged by the violist Elsevier, who is among the musicians who retired from the Met during the pandemic. And it was indeed a beautiful arrangement! Now, unlike “Tatăl nostru”, which I virtually knew nothing about, I love this aria and know it quite well, so I did pay attention to some of the pronunciation; but then again, I do not speak Czech, so it didn’t matter much. Overall, Gheorghiu’s rendition was not perfect (I thinnnnnnnnk there were some notes that were a little bit out of tune? but there was vibrato that also touched the right tone and so I couldn’t tell), and I would certainly not imagine it within the full context of Rusalka the opera (see what I noted above concerning the quality of her voice), but that did not stop me from finding it quite beautiful.

It felt so weird not to hear any applause after each number, and so I could not help but clap after each gem, even though no one could hear me.

After the concert wrapped up, the audience got to watch a chat session between Gheorghiu and Met horn player Barbara Jöstlein Currie, where they talked about how this whole thing came to be (so apparently there was Instagram DM’ing between the two that was involved in the preparation?), before the five string players (which actually include two married couples!) whose music we heard earlier joined in. So unlike the concert, which was all pre-recorded, this was a Zoom session being streamed live. [3rd instance of Raya uselessly gushing] Gheorghiu’s speaking voice sounds radically different from her singing voice, and I can tell English is not her primary language, but that’s just something useless I wanted to include, on which I have zero strong feelings. In contrast to the pre-recorded concert, here she was responsible for me writing in The Balcony Seats Discord server earlier today about how “you know you have aged well when you end up looking a bit like Morticia Addams”, especially with the makeup. [gushing done]

The whole discussion hinged on the concept of “Met family”, and I found the whole interaction between Gheorghiu and the musicians just very very sweet, a star singer and musicians in the pit seeing each other as equals, as family. It’s not every day that I see that (but then again, my background is severely limited, so what do I know). Among the relatively unimportant things the convo touched on that stick with me, in no particular order, are:

Gheorghiu apparently married on the stage of the Met because the guy from the City Hall lost their papers and I never knew that??? (but then again, I never directly research info about my hyperfixations because I get overwhelmed) Everyone had a nice laugh at that recollection.

She got into this whole profession mainly to sing at the Met. Also the whole deal of her making L*vine cry and making her debut at a young age for a star singer.

Everyone relating to the feeling of going home at night after a concert, and not being able to go to sleep because you still have adrenaline flowing through you. As someone who does performing arts, I also relate to that on a moderate degree.

Family life talks.

Gheorghiu mentioning how she can’t work with a director who’s like “your character does that because that’s what I decided” because something something harmony? I can’t remember; I’m pretty sure I’m misquoting. But that’s basically the equivalent of “my house, my rules” (”my production, my interpretation” in that case, lol) imo, so can’t object too much.

Something about playing the finale of Götterdämmerung led the musicians to humorously throw in the idea of Gheorghiu singing Brünnhilde as her next role, and she went all “nah” to that, also humorously.

This led to her admitting that she’s not the biggest fan of Wagner’s music (though she would consider singing Elsa); saying that she’d travel back in time to tell Wager to stop writing these interminable phrases, to just get to the point (I’m not really into Wagner either, so I don’t completely disagree). Also, she believes that Wagner is difficult to sing, and that singers who nail Wagner tend to end up singing only Wagner (here, I think it depends, but there is a point somewhere in here).

She doesn’t seem to like singing acapella/without music very much, which also led her to record some sAcRiLEgiOuS versions of Orthodox worship songs, which you’re apparently not supposed to sing with music.

She sang something like “goodnight, goodnight” (idk) at the very end, it was cute.

To go back to the important stuff, Gheorghiu apparently wrote directly to the Met donors, asking to help in any way, because she wanted to set an example for other people by doing the right thing, and to help what she sees as her “family”, as mentioned above. I had heard some stories about her diva reputation (and she does seem to enjoy attention and stuff, from what I’ve seen myself), but overall she seems like a pretty good person. Mainly mentioning that because as y’all know I’m autistic and can’t tell intricate body language and stuff, plus my very strong belief that good person >>>>>>> great performer. (but my dear friends say that loving her is valid, so I guess I’m safe from too much disappointment. what am I even writing).

And that’s it for my incredibly long and uselessly detailed and almost incoherent and somewhat gushy review, which took me nearly 3 hours to write (and for which I may or may not have replayed a little bit of the stream just to get one bit of info right), and which will, again, probably embarrass me for the rest of my puny life, but which I could not not let out into the void of operablr.

(There were also moments earlier today where I was fantasizing about being interviewed on that very Zoom meeting for the scene-and-duet I composed back in January in response to the Met’s poor treatment of its musicians)

I guess what I can take from this post is: never write a review again, Raya!

#sorry everyone!!!#raya writes a review #concert review #opera concert review #angela gheorghiu #(whom i have excessively gushed over)#(but seriously you should count the number of times i have written 'gheorghiu' in this one post!)#(i haven't bc it's late)#met orchestra musicians #song to the moon #song to the moon concert #dealing with part of a current hyperfixation

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unsurepotatohooman · 5 years

Text

The Perfect Color

Fandom : TS Sides

Characters : Patton, Logan (Roman and Virgil are mentioned like once)

Genre : Fluff :))

Warnings : None

Word Count : 1884

Summary : Logan loves poetry, and Patton loves Logan. The moral side decides to mix the two.

A/N : I finally finished this story! It took about two hours to write after procrastinating for two and a half weeks and then I edited it a lil. I specifically wrote this fic for @dragonsaphirareads writing contest (who y’all should totally check out btw if you haven’t already). The song used is “Perfect Color” by SafteySuit which I happened to come across not too long ago and I loved it! It sounded so much like Patton so I had to give this a try!! Anyways, enough rambling. I hope you guys enjoy!

Work:

Patton gripped the paper in his hands as he made his way down the hall. He tried his best to keep from shaking but nerves were getting the best of him.

Everyone who knows Logan knows he loves poetry, but you would never know truly how much unless you paid attention. Patton always paid attention. He would observe Logan’s eyes and the way they sparkle like the stars. He would listen to the sound of Logan’s voice as his eyes scanned a particularly interesting piece, and he could hear the wall that Logan held his emotions behind break a little. He would giggle at the tone of Logan’s voice when he would assure Patton that he never sings, and that he only reads the poems. Though, he has rapped to Patton a few times on occasion before and after the video where he battles against Roman. Finally, Patton’s heart would swell as he saw the small smile adorn Logan’s features as he shared something so close with him to Patton, and the proud face he wore when Patton would reference something about poetry. Every time Patton got Logan to talk about poems, he would fall even harder for him.

This is why he decided to ask Logan for poetry lessons. They would visit the class room in Logan’s dream space and would write for hours every Sunday afternoon. Patton took a little while to catch on, and Logan got a little frustrated, but lesson after lesson Patton was finally understanding the concept of it, and had even written a few practice pieces for Logan. Logan was always pleased with Patton’s willingness to learn, and Patton found himself wishing the week away so he could see that smile on Logan’s face again.

It had been about four months since they had started those poetry sessions, and Patton finally admitted to himself that he had feelings for a certain tie-clad side. After a lengthy conversation with Roman, and another conversation with Virgil to help filter out the more... “extreme” suggestions from the creative side, Patton was ready to finally read his secret poem to Logan. He had begun writing it at about their third month in, and finally finished it last week. It took a whole week for him to work up the courage to even mention it to the logical side.

Patton walked up to the indigo colored door and eyed it with a timid expression. He closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths and tried to imagine that the situation wasn’t as intimidating as it seemed. Finally, he opened his eyes and knocked as cheerily as he could before he could put this off any longer.

There were a few long strides from inside the room. Patton heard a lock click and the door slid open to reveal Logan, standing with his usual attire.

“Good afternoon, Patton.”

“Hey Lo lo!” Patton said happily even as the nerves were tearing him up from the inside.

Logan raised an eyebrow at the high pitch in Patton’s voice, but moved aside nonetheless.

“Actually Logan,” Patton started, “I was wondering if you could join me in my dreams space for this lesson.”

Logan gave Patton a skeptic look. “I don’t believe that will be a problem. Give me just a moment.” Logan walked back into his room and returned with a few notebooks and a journal full of his own poems.

“Oh!” Patton exclaimed, “You won’t need those. I’ve got us covered for today.”

“Oh?” Logan questioned, and Patton nodded.

“Yeah, I’ve got it! Don’t you sweat it!”

Logan looked down to his books and back to Patton. “Alright, I trust you Patton.” He then walked back in his room, placed the books down and joined Patton back in the hall.

“Ready?” Patton asked as Logan closed the door firmly behind him.

“Certainly.”

Patton took Logan’s hand and tried to ignore the color growing in his face. The two sunk down together and reappeared in Patton’s dream space, which at the moment, was pitch black.

“I must ask,” Logan started. “Why the sudden change? I know that change tends to not sit very well with you sometimes.”

“I just needed to try something new.” Patton smiled. He took his hand back from Logan, which helped his face to cool down, before snapping his fingers.

In an instant, the whole room around them began to change. Trees merged in from the darkness. In the branches there were fairy lights similar to the ones in Patton’s room. Their shoes disappeared revealing the ground underneath them as it turned to grass with various shades of different color flowers. Patton’s usual fatherly attire changed to a light blue, knee length dress. The rainbow trim matched the many different colored flowers in his flower crown. Logan had also gained a flower crown too of the same kind. Patton couldn’t help but feel a little self conscious when he saw color come to the logical side's face.

“P-patton, what’s going on?” Logan stuttered.

The moral side took a deep breath as he calmed the last bit of anxiety before finally speaking up. “I want to read you a poem.”

Logan had an intrigued but confused look on his reddening face. “You do?”

“Mhm.” Patton hummed, taking Logan’s hands again, “But I have to sing it to you.”

Logan didn’t even sigh at the fact that he was going to listen to another song, which Patton took as his que to begin. Music came from a record player that spawned near the tree line on the edge of the clearing as Patton began to sing.

Yellow nice to meet you

Do you know that you just blue my mind?

It was the perfect conversation, I think that I red about one time

I told a white lie when I told you, I’ve never been green with envy you,

You are the perfect color

Logan rolled his eyes at the very obvious word play, but immediately stopped when Patton pulled Logan to him and began to dance. The moral side’s voice filled the air as he led Logan through the flowy movements as they followed the song.

Ooh, ooh, ooh

The two sides spun around awkwardly, slowly sinking more and more into the music. Patton and Logan’s faces were both bright red as Patton moved into the verse.

To the misfit and the freaks,

To the outcasts and the geeks,

To the weird kids that don’t care

Cause you feel like you’re not there

To the ones who won’t look in

To the mirror because you’re scared

Don’t let the haters hate become your own, oh, no, no

The logical side focused on the lyrics as he looked down at their feet. Patton knew that Logan, like everyone else at some point in their life, had struggled with being the odd one out. With being the weird, nerd character in Thomas’ videos. Just like everyone else, Logan struggled with his own image and feelings on a daily basis. Patton knew he did even though it was difficult for many to see through Logan’s walls.

Now there is going to always be someone who thinks that art has no meaning

Who looks up at the Sistine Chapel and only sees a ceiling

But you, you you

Well you know what I would say to you?

You know what I would say to you?

Logan met Patton’s eyes as the moral side’s voice grew stronger with the emotion of the song. Their feet swept across the blades of grass as Patton led them along a little faster.

Yellow nice to meet you

Do you know that you just blue my mind?

It was the perfect conversation, I think that I red about one time

I told a white lie when I told you, I’ve never been green with envy you,

You are the perfect color

Their gaze broke as Patton’s face melted into a mischievous smile. Before Logan knew it, he was being twirled around by Patton.

Ooh, ooh, ooh

Patton pulled Logan back to himself allowing a small giggle to escape his lips during a pause in lyrics. Logan looked at him with wide eyes, but he didn’t say anything. The moral side took Logan by both of his hands and pulled back as he looked him in the eyes.

And in a perfect world

I’d get to say

It’s just black and white

There’s no room for grey

And there’s a color scheme inside every heart

Ours won’t be complete until we have yours

So yellow nice to meet you

Patton’s volume rose before falling into almost a soft whisper as he pulled Logan back in and the two began to slow dance, rocking side to side. The flowers in their crowns brightened as the song went on, the music fuling their vibrant shades.

Yellow nice to meet you

Do you know that you just blue my mind?

It was the perfect conversation, I think that I red about one time

I told a white lie when I told you, I’ve never been green with envy you,

You are the perfect color

Ooh, ooh, ooh

The music came back in full force, Patton’s voice rising back up with the volume as he poured his heart and soul out to the man he was holding and who was holding him.

Yellow nice to meet you

Do you know that you just blue my mind?

It was the perfect conversation, I think that I red about one time

I told a white lie when I told you, I’ve never been green with envy you,

You are the perfect color

Ooh, ooh, ooh

As the song came to a close, Logan spun Patton around before bringing the shorter of the two back in. Both of them were out of breath after all of the movement. The air filled with their breathless laughter as they clung to each other's arms. They slow danced for a while, even as the song faded out leaving them with the chirping of crickets and a light, blowing breeze.

“Logan?” Patton finally broke the silence.

“Hm?” Logan hummed, his eyes flickering to Patton as the moral side pulled away to look him in the face.

“I love you, so much. I had no idea how else to tell you.” He smiled sheepishly. “What do you think?”

Logan smiled. He smiled that smile that Patton loved so much that was reserved for the precious things in Logan’s life. The look that the taller of the two repressed to keep up his serious persona. He let down his walls to Patton, and Patton couldn’t ask for anything more as the words left Logan’s lips.

“I think we do make the perfect color.”

They pulled each other close and met in the middle as their lips touched. It was short and new but still filled with so much anxious passion that got both of their thoughts across quickly. When they pulled away, Patton burrowed into Logan’s chest as the two hugged, swaying from side to side as they enjoyed the last few moments of their Sunday afternoon together.

It’s safe to say that this became their new spot for their poetry meets.

#ts sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logic sanders #morality sanders #creativity sanders #anxiety sanders #romantic logicality #logicality #perfect color #SafteySuit #writing contest #potatohoomanwrites

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winryofresembool · 5 years

Text

Edwin fic: Coffee Shop Reunion

Summary: a cockroach attacks Winry and Ed is there to protect her (sorry I just can’t write a serious summary for this one) Coffee shop AU/modern AU

A/N: Yes, I know, the most cliched AU ever. But I’ve never written one before and I had a lot of fun with this, so I regret nothing! Who knows, MAYBE if you guys like it, I may write more, but I won’t 100% promise anything (committing to LCMTI back in the day was a Lot and I’m not mentally in a place where I can promise I’ll manage to write regular updates). But anyway, I hope you guys enjoy and please, please, review because it has a HUGE power in motivating me!

Genre: general? Bits of drama and fluff

Words: 1700+

Warnings: cockroaches :P (May also be known as Kimblee)

ao3

...

It was just another annoying, busy day at the coffee house for Edward Elric. It was only midday but he had already broken 2 cups, almost lost his temper at 3 customers who were either being rude or taking too long in deciding what they wanted to order while the line started getting longer behind them, and nearly told his boss he was quitting. He was glad he hadn’t done that, though. He really needed the money and being realistic, he knew finding another job wouldn’t be easy for someone as young and inexperienced as him. His brother was still in the hospital and someone had to pay the bills… If his good for nothing dad dared to show up one day, he had no doubt he’d punch the old man right in the face, he thought. Ed was dragged out of his violent fantasies by a new customer, one he didn’t remember seeing before. If he had, he was sure he would remember.

The customer was a young woman, around his age, Ed estimated. Her long, blonde hair was tied on a simple ponytail, and her blue eyes were measuring him as if wondering why he was working in a place like this. She was pretty, but Ed noticed that unlike many other girls that visited this coffee shop, she didn’t pay a lot of attention to her looks. Her mechanic overalls were covered with oil and she also had a tiny oil smudge on her face.

The girl must have noticed Ed’s distraction, because she asked sharply: “Hey?! Do I get service here?”

Ed was going to apologize, but something about her tone set him off. He was already frustrated because of the earlier, so instead he blurted: “What do you want?”

“I may choose another coffee shop the next time if this is how you treat customers…” The girl growled, her eyes gleaming angrily. “But anyway, I’m in a bit of a hurry so a cup of espresso and a sandwich would do. Please,” she added sarcastically.

“Coming,” Ed mumbled and started making the hot drink. One side of him wanted to add salt or pepper (or both) into the drink but he refrained from doing that, knowing this girl would surely complain to his boss, and he was already close to getting fired as he was…

Finally, he delivered the girl’s order (after procrastinating as long as he could without being worried about her attacking him for it) and proceeded to serve other customers. He was still glancing at her from the corner of his eye every once in a while when he was carrying something to that direction. Even though he hated to admit it, something about that girl had raised his curiosity. First of all, she was looking at a map. Not from some phone app, but an actual printed map. Who used those anymore besides older people? It also meant she had probably moved in recently, not yet familiar with this area, Ed concluded.

Second of all, he noticed her having a med school book on the table. A mechanic and a doctor? That sounded like a fascinating combination to Ed, who was studying chemistry and who could have also used a mechanic for his prosthetic leg. But they had just been rather rude to each other, and he wasn’t the type who would go to her and say “Oh hey, sorry about earlier, what would you say if you and I tried to get to know each other better?” So he decided to give up and try to get his mind out of that topic and focus on other customers.

A few minutes later, a dark haired man who reminded Ed of a cockroach arrived into the coffee shop. Something about him made Ed’s neck hair rise a bit despite him ordering and paying just like any other customer would. For a while the man seemed to be contemplating where to sit, and to Ed’s annoyance he found just the seat he wished that man wouldn’t leave alone – next to the blonde girl.

“Is this seat taken?” the man asked, but he had already put his coffee on the table, indicating he wasn’t going anywhere even if she said no.

“Uh, I guess it isn’t…” The girl said unnecessarily, the man already sitting when she finished her answer.

“Good. What’s the name of my pretty companion?”

The girl wondered if she should have felt complimented or annoyed, but she chose the latter. “I’m Winry.”

When she didn’t say anything else, he asked: “What are you reading?” nodding towards the girl’s book.

“Just something for school… Sorry, but I’m a bit busy here,” she took the book and tried to focus on reading it, but that wasn’t working. The man was still staring at her.

“Could you please stop watching me like that?” Winry finally said when he hadn’t moved his gaze from her for at least 3 minutes.

“What, can’t a man look at a pretty girl?”

“No, not when I don’t even know you, yet your stare screams ‘I own you’,” Winry answered honestly, trying to keep her voice calm even though it was getting hard.

“Excuse me?” The man started to lose his cool. “I have to look at something and you happen to be right in front of me.”

“Yes, because you sat right there on purpose. There are plenty of empty seats in this café yet you chose that exact spot,” Winry pointed out. She wasn’t wrong; the rush hour was already over and there weren’t that many customers around currently.

“So? It’s a free world. And you said I could sit here,” he kept insisting.

“I did not…”

“Excuse me?” Ed, who had noticed the raised voices, finally interrupted them. “Is there a problem here?”

“No,” Winry said, not wanting the rude barista to meddle in. She could handle that stranger on her own. However, the older man told Ed: “Yes. This woman said I wasn’t allowed to sit here even though it was a free seat.”

“I think that’s because you were bothering her,” Ed snarled, giving the man a glare that could have probably killed a weaker person.

“I was just sitting here!”

“Try being stared at like that for 5 minutes and then tell me if it was ‘just sitting’. You were looking at her like she’s an object!” Ed growled, each word getting more threatening. “Listen, dude. I give you two options. Either you leave her alone, or I will call the security. Or remove you from here personally.” Ed may not have been tall, but he looked like a man who stood behind his words, so the raven haired man decided to listen to him, even if just this one time. He did mumble something about Ed’s boss, though, as he passed him.

When he had left the scene, Winry spoke: “Thanks. Though you wouldn’t have had to.”

She sounded mildly defensive to Ed, to which he crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow with annoyance.

“Oh OK. Well, the next time someone tries to harass you, I’ll just leave you to handle it on your own.” He grunted and turned back to go and serve other customers.

“Wait. Sorry. I didn’t mean to… I mean, I appreciate your help.” Winry said quietly and gave Ed an ashamed look. She hadn’t meant to snap like that.

He took a couple of steps back towards her, his face now worried.

“Does that kind of thing happen to you often?” he asked with a lot softer voice than earlier.

“Uh… it wasn’t the first time,” Winry admitted. “But I am from a small town so it is a bit different there…”

“I’m sorry that some of us can be such idiots…” Ed shook his head, looking like he genuinely meant it. “And sorry about that earlier, I was being quite an asshole too. It’s been a rough day…”

“I guess we all have those sometimes…” Winry sighed.

“Sorry if I’m prying but can I ask where you have moved from? You see, I’m from a small place myself, moved here after my mother’s death…” Ed wasn’t sure why he mentioned that to a stranger but for some reason it felt right, like he had known her way longer than 5 minutes.

“Oh, I’m from Resembool”, Winry noted, “You probably haven’t heard of it, it’s just a small village. I moved here only 2 weeks ago.”

“You gotta be kidding me!” Ed exclaimed. “I’m from there too…” The puzzle pieces started connecting in his head. “Wait a sec, I think… I think I know you. You’re Winry Rockbell, aren’t you?”

“I am, but how… Ed? Edward Elric?” Realization struck Winry as she took in the barista properly for the first time. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize that antenna, you still have it,” Winry started laughing. In reality, Ed’s golden eyes were what had given him out, but she wasn’t going to tell that to him, not yet anyway.

“Oh, nice to see you remember my antenna,” Ed said, smirking. “It’s like my trademark at this point.”

“I remember one time when our teacher was annoyed by it and tried to press it down without success,” Winry smiled at the memory.

“I still haven’t forgiven that old witch…” Ed said, pretending to be angry. “But anyway…” Suddenly he seemed a bit awkward. “I know this may feel a bit fast especially after what just happened… But if you ever want someone to show you some places here or anything… I could be interested in doing that.”

“Well, as long as you know that if you act like that creeper just did, I WILL kick your ass.” Winry smiled mischievously. “But sure, I’d like that!”

She pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from her bag and gave it to Ed, who wrote his phone number down on it.

“If you don’t want to contact me, that’s fine,” he noted, “but in all honesty, some change would be nice for me too. The coffee house life can be pretty dull sometimes…”

“I believe you,” Winry nodded. “We’ll see what’s gonna happen this weekend! But I think you should go back now, there’s quite a line there.” She referred to the customers waiting to be served, and Ed realized with embarrassment he had stayed talking with her much longer than planned.

“Oh. Right. But maybe I’ll see you soon!”

“Yep, maybe.” Winry winked at him before collecting her stuff and leaving the coffee house.

#edwin #edxwin #edward elric #winry rockbell #fullmetal alchemist #my fics #coffee shop au

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charlies-crashcourses · 5 years

Text

Charlie’s College Crash Course #1: How to write a 10-page paper in 1 day

Background info first: I’m in the last year of my English undergrad degree and I’ve had to write at least 3 dozen 10+ page papers in that time. That being said, I’ve never once started writing a paper more than a few days in advance, and 9 times out of 10 I go for one day only. Honestly, this should be considered my trademark at this point because after all my high school AP courses and my English degree, it’s been going on 7 years of 1 day papers.

and so, dear friends, I would like to pass on this skill to you all. I should mention, none of this will work if you’re not already pretty solid on paper writing, i.e. if you only ever get C’s on your papers now this isn’t magically going to get you up to an A with one day. This is just to streamline the process, allowing for more time for other things or, more commonly, allowing you to not freak the fuck out when you realize the deadline is tonight at midnight and you’ve procrastinated all month on the final paper for your class.

(I should also mention that I’m currently procrastinating a 2.5k word paper due tomorrow night that I’ve only read one of two books for, so. There’s that.)

Anyway, without further ado, here we fucking go:

Step 1: Prep for the Day

this is going to be a marathon, not a sprint, so make sure you prep the day accordingly. Ideally, you’d wake up before noon, make sure there’s nothing else planned for the day, and tell your roommates/parents to leave you alone until you officially reemerge at midnight (or, if you’re in college and have a 24 hr library, try going there. Mine has closed off study rooms that I can chill in, but if you’rs doesn’t just find a relatively comfy quiet spot). If you’re at home, pick one spot, clear it off super quick, grab some snacks and energy drinks, make sure you have everything charged and ready to go. I don’t recommend cafes or the like simply because there’s lots of distractions and also those places close before midnight, so you can’t stay there the entire time and therefor waste time moving halfway through.

Also, I would recommend taking a break between all the steps after this one. Don’t let the break take too long, but just long enough to walk the block, or grab another snack, or do some stretches, or watch a ten minute video, something like that. I personally never break at a natural stopping point, because then I’ll never get back to it, but how you break is up to you.

Step 2: Preliminary Research

now normally I do some preliminary research beforehand. Basically looking into the topic, figuring out generally what resources would be best, etc. That can usually be done in five to ten minute bursts throughout the week or so before the due date, whenever the topic comes to mind.

But then again, I’ve also procrastinated that until the very end as well, so. Usually all that takes if you go for the day of is some quick google scholar searches, or if you have access to the MLA database that works as well. Or, if you’re more like me, you could just deep dive on wikipedia and check out what relevant facts pertain to what numbers in the bibliography, then go ahead and cite those wherever possible.

Basically, get a good base knowledge of the big facts. This step should be quick and dirty. For instance, for my paper my sophomore year on Robespierre (14 pages written in a record 6 hours) I combed through his wiki, some websites on the French Revolution, and watched the Crash Course youtbue video on the subject. The rest of the research was done after I did my first outline.

Step 3: Outline #1

This is just a basic “What the fuck am I talking about” outline. It can be bullet points, numbers, stream of consciousness, i don’t care as long as it works for you.

For the Robespierre paper, my first outline was something to the effect of: -born poor -school -elected to govt -took over govt -killed people -got killed

and that was it. It’s like, before you build a house you have to clear off the right amount of land, make sure there’s nothing in your way, and give yourself a vague area in which to build. Super simple stuff.

I did get some advice, from somewhere I can’t remember, that a paragraph is basically equal to half a page, and so (excluding one page length for your intro + conclusion) you should have around two paragraphs or ideas per page. So my outline above would need some more points, there, to keep me on track for my page count. I eventually added a whole paragraph about how he was chosen to read for a visiting King Louis at his school and was then ignored which made him hate the monarchy, and another about what happened after he died what with the government in shambles, etc etc. So two bullet points per page should do it.

Step 4: More Research

This is where you get a little more in depth. Look at your bullet points and learn everything you need to about them.

For my first bullet, I found stuff like: “Robespierre was born in France in 1758 as Maximilien François Marie Isidore de Robespierre (the third of this name), to a lawyer and the daughter of a brewer, he had two siblings, and he could read by age eight. he also loved pigeons and started a lifelong feud with his sister over one that he gave her that she let die."

and then I would move on to the next bullet point, and so on and so forth, filling in the gaps. Make sure to keep track of where your info comes from, as well. It doesn’t have to be a full citation, but just the hyperlink after the fact is going to save you so much time, i promise

Pro Tip: don’t throw out anything as irrelevant just yet. Just gather all the facts, no judging. Trust me on this.

Step 5: Better Outline

this is where you start to have fun with it. I would like to remind you that no one, unless you have some crazy micromanaging professor, sees your outlines. This is for you and you only, so write it in whatever way makes sense to you. It can be colorful and fun and whatever you need it to be.

I actually took screenshots of my outline for that robespierre paper (hence why i chose that one as an example) so here’s a look at what I do:

so, really, honestly, as shitty as you need this to be, or as many jokes, or whatever works for you my dude. Explain it like you would if it were a story you were telling, not a biographical/argumentative paper. Get informal with it.

Step 6: Write the Damn Thing

Okay to now that you did the research and wrote your fun outlines and all that, all you have to do now is write it! I tend to do this in the same doc as I do my outline, but starting again from the top so I can see what I need to add next right under where I’m typing, then delete it once I’ve covered the material.

If you did your outline well, this is really just cleaning that up so it’s “school appropriate” and “not an affront to people’s eyes and sensibilities” or whatever. At this point, it should go super quick, maybe 2 hours max to finish up writing what you need to write, here.

Pro Tip: do your citations as you go. Better yet, make your bibliography first so that A its already done and B you know what your in text cites will be from the start so that you don’t have to add them in later. If you kept your hyperlinks next to your research, just open up citationmachine and get those cites, then replace the links in your outline with the actual citations so it’s easier to line them up with in text cites while you go

Step 7: Fudging

oh, you thought we were done after writing the paper? nah fam. Chances are, you didn’t hit the page count you wanted to, you’re probably around 1 full page short, unless you love long sentences. This is where my pro tip from all the way back on step 4 comes in.

First, before you do anything drastic, make sure your formatting is correct. If your prof wants the big long “name, date, class, assignment, etc” in the top left then that adds a lot of length. Fonts will also change your page length, and so will footnotes and citations.

If you did it right and saved all the less relevant details, congratulations! Just sprinkle a few of those in there and you’re magically at your page count. This is the only reason I included the pigeon story in my paper (and this post), because I was about 3/4 of a page short of passably saying I got to 14.

If you didn’t save those inane details, don’t go looking for them now. Trust me, it’s much more pain than it’s worth. Your best bet, then, would be to either A. Add one more point if you can think one up, B. do some more research for relevant details to add in, or C. expand on the details you already have with more examples or effects or whatever applies.

do not, i repeat do NOT, just try and expand the words you use, like changing “to” into “in order to” or whatever those deflate your phrases charts tell you Not to do. They tell you not to for a reason. 1. it sounds stupid adding them in after the fact, and 2. your professor absolutely 100% will know and will mark you down if you do that in excess. Inflated phrase charts like that are well known by professors, and also adding them in after the fact won’t fit in at all with the voice that the rest of your paper was written in, so it’ll stand out like a sore thumb. just don’t do it unless it’s your last possible “i have ten minutes to turn this in” effort.

Step 8: Celebrate!!

And that’s it! If you did it right, this whole process should have taken you around the equivalent of 1 hour per page you had to write or so, so in a regular twelve hour day you’ve got time to take breaks and eat and all that shit. Go turn it in and celebrate your victory!

#study tips #adhd studying #paper writing #don't procrastinate kids #crash course #charlie's college crash course

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softyoongiionly · 6 years

Text

Fear and Dumplings: Chapter Six

Confronting your fears for a final grade sounds unappealing but, with Yoongi as your partner, things might not be so bad.

Summary: You’re in your final semester at University when your Abnormal Psychology professor assigns you a partnered project surrounding your greatest fears. Lucky for you, your partner just so happens to be a cute boy named Min Yoongi.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: College Au, Underground Rapper! Yoongi, Soft!!! Yoongi, Fluff!!!, some moderate angst (later), smut (later later), slow-ish? burn

Word Count: 5.1K

A/N: I’m literally on fire after writing this chapter lol. I hope you like it!😊

Warnings for this Chapter: mentions of fear, anxiety, sadness, some angst aka Jimin is an insecure boy who is unaware that he is literaly heaven on earth, swearing, suggestive situations/concepts, if you squint really hard you can see the beginnings of smut.

Warnings for the Fic: mentions characters confronting their fears, characters in uncomfortable situations, emotional moments between characters, mentions of bad parenting, explicit language throughout the fic, moderate angst, and very explicit smut later in the story.

Chapter 6: Doubt and Shadow Demons

You’re lying on your bed in one of your many baggy t-shirts, smiling like an idiot at your phone. Jimin had sent you screenshots of what he believed to be Yoongi’s twitter. If Jimin wasn’t aiming to be a dancer, you would have suggested a career as a private investigator because, he could literally find anyone. You hadn’t asked Jimin to go looking for more information on Yoongi but, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t interested. His Twitter was mostly black, no bio and, no location but, the avatar was a picture of Yoongi wearing headphones, his newly blonde hair disheveled as he smiled at the camera. He really had no business being that cute. ‘@agustd93’ was his handle and you furrowed your brows in confusion as you tried to decipher what it could mean. Yoongi didn’t seem to tweet much, he just retweeted a lot of music equipment accounts however, there were a few scattered tweets here and there that made you laugh.

“Roommates are drunk, again. They can’t hold their alcohol for shit.”

“Update: Drunk Hobi is obsessed with my cheeks and, I swear if he pinches them one more time, I’m going to cut his hands off.”

“Another Update: Joon just started crying after explaining to me that, “we are all just little flowers in the garden of life, trying to find our bees.” What the fuck does that even mean?”

You giggle, shaking your head, your thumb scrolling down to search for more tweets. There were more scattered between retweets of what you assumed to be the latest music equipment as Yoongi quoted some of the them with captions like ‘Dream Studio’ and ‘if only I wasn’t broke.’ You kept scrolling before coming across a tweet that made your stomach flutter.

‘Where? Everywhere.’

Fuck. He tweeted that last night. After you and Yoongi got off the Ferris Wheel, you actually ended up having a pretty decent time. The two of you got dinner at the park and wrote your experiences down in your research journals. Yoongi acted like the conversation on the Ferris Wheel never happened but, he seemed to warm up to you more and more as the night progressed. But still, nothing flirty occurred between the two of you and, Yoongi was very careful not to get too close to you. The whole thing was very confusing, one minute, Yoongi’s admitting that he would kiss you ‘everywhere, if you let him’ and, the next minute he’s treating you like he normally did. This tweet was sent at 11:30 which would have been around the time he got back to his place. Maybe it wasn’t about you, Yoongi seemed to have a habit of being vague and, he easily could have been talking about something else but, none the less, it made your heart skip a beat.

Did you like Yoongi? More importantly, did it matter? You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of your complicated thoughts as you rolled out of bed. Marzipan throws a complaint your way as you walk past her lounging at the end of the mattress. Normally, you would be out at your favorite crepe café gossiping with Jimin over some iced coffee but, Jimin had texted you the night before saying that his showcase rehearsal was running late and he didn’t think he’d get any sleep if he met up with you. You had of course met this with an abundance of understanding as you knew better than anyone how hard Jimin had been working at his showcase routine. So, instead of meeting up with your best friend, you planned on working on your final paper for your International Relations course. You had been working on it all semester and, felt accomplished that for once, you didn’t procrastinate. Green tea was essential for today’s writing session so; you brewed a decent sized pot before, continuing your paper. Marzipan eventually made her way out into your living room, opting to sprawl out on the couch, claiming her space as usual.

After writing for some time, you glance at the clock at the bottom of your laptop and your eyes widen. Shit. You had been writing for 4 hours. How was it possible that much time had passed? You had gotten a lot done, adding an additional 6-7 pages to the giant that was your final paper. Just after leaning back in your chair and stretching your limbs, your phone lights up with a text message.

BROS 4 LYFE (Jungkook): I miss the squad tho.

You giggle at the message, your heart warming as you reply.

BROS 4 LYFE: me too tho :/

BROS 4 LYFE (Taehyung): me 3 tho :/ :/

BROS 4 LYFE (Jimin): MY BABIES :( i miss u guys.

A hint of sadness plucks at your chest as you read the messages being sent in by your friends. You had made new friends in school and, college had been an overall fun time but, you had to admit that you never stopped missing having all three of your bestfriends in one place. The past four years hadn’t been the same without them and you couldn’t wait til the four of you graduated so, that you could finally have your group back together again. Jungkook had been drafted to play pro ball on a minor league team in your current city and, Taehyung had made the decision earlier in the semester to pursue his masters in art history at the school you and Jimin were currently attending. This meant that in a few short weeks, everything would back to normal for a little while.

BROS 4 LYFE: only a few more weeks my dudes, we got this.

BROS 4 LYFE (Jungkook) stay on that grind squad, college grad hours are about to be open.

BROS 4 LYFE (Jimin): kookie and tae, will you be here for my showcase? It’s two weeks before graduation.

BROS 4 LYFE (Taehyung): duh. We wouldn’t miss it for the world Jiminie.

BROS 4 LYFE (Jungkook): yea we would never miss a chance to see the world’s shortest ballerina.

Your eyes widen as you laugh, already imagining Jimin igniting in fury when he reads the message. His reply comes before you are able to chime in.

BROS 4 LYFE (Jimin): YAH! IM NOT A BALLERINA!

BROS 4 LYFE (Jimin): I AM A CONTEMPORARY DANCER.

BROS 4 LYFE (Jimin): THE CHAMPION CONTEMPORARY DANCER

BROS 4 LYFE (Jimin): THREE YEARS RUNNING THANKYOUVERYMUCH

At this point you’re in a full blown laughing fit, shaking your head as your fiery best friend pops off in the chat.

BROS 4 LYFE: go best friend, that’s my best friend.

BROS 4 LYFE (Taehyung): let the record show that Kookie bought 12 of the limited edition Jimin shirts that your school sold after he won the championships.

BROS 4 LYFE (Jungkook): YOU PROMISED ME YOU WOULDN’T TELL

BROS 4 LYFE (Jimin): >:)

BROS 4 LYFE (Jimin): love u kookie

BROS 4 LYFE (Jungkook): …love u too…

The responses eventually dwindle down and, you decide to hop in the shower to tend to the mop of hair that was growing slightly greasy on your head. Afterwards, you throw on a cozy sweatshirt and your favorite pair of fuzzy pajama shorts and, settle on the couch to watch some Netflix. You hadn’t had a night in to yourself in a long time and, it felt amazing to be able to sit around and, do nothing. Marzipan made her way up your body before, snuggling up in the free space between you and the edge of the couch. As your fingers absentmindedly stroke her fur, you feel your lids becoming heavier and heavier and, finally, you drift off into a much needed nap.

Needless to say, the nap turned into you passing out around 7:30 and, sleeping through the night until, finally, you awake to the ethereal sound of the never-ending city construction. You grumble as you pull the covers over your head to drown out the noise causing Marzipan, who clearly hadn’t left her spot all night, to flee from the couch. Checking your phone, you noticed a few messages from your group-chat and a snapchat or two from some of your other friends. After responding to the majority of your missed messages, you drag yourself off of the couch and into the kitchen to make some coffee. The microwave displayed the current time: 7:45am; an unholy time to be awake on a Saturday morning. The coffee was finishing up before a loud knock at your door caused you to jump out of your skin. Who the hell was at your house at 7:45 in the morning? You gingerly made your way to the door, hoping that it was just someone from maintenance. Opening the door, you nearly scream as a tuft of pink hair practically collapses into your arms. It was Jimin and, he was crying.

“Jimin, babe, what’s wrong?” You hold him to you, your eyes wide with concern as you usher him into your apartment.

“I can’t do it y/n, I can’t do anything right.” He cries into your t-shirt, his hands clutching you as if you’re about to slip away.

You rub his back, maneuvering you both onto your couch, Jimin clinging to you all the while.

“Hey, hey, that’s not true at all.” You murmur soothingly. “Jimin, what brought this on? Did something happen?”

Jimin, still crying, nods, as the tears stream down his puffy cheeks.

“I’ve been rehearsing for…for 36 hours…and I ca…can’t….do it…I can’t get it right. I ke…keep messing up. I’m n…not getting it…they’re…they’re going to drop me from the showcase if I can’t do it….they…they will…” At this point, your heart is broken, your usually smiley best friend is completely shattered, sobbing, into your arms. You hadn’t seen him like this since he had his first serious breakup sophomore year and, even that couldn’t compare to what you saw before you.

“Shh…minnie…it’s ok, it’s ok, I got you.” You gingerly tilt his swollen face towards yours, your eyes holding an immense amount of emotion as you gaze into his. “Listen to me ok? You can’t rehearse like that, you’re going to burn out and, get hurt. You have to rest. You’ve been practicing non-stop for the entire semester. You could do that routine in your sleep babe. The only reason you probably messed up is because you are exhausting yourself.”

Before you can even finish, Jimin’s eyes well up with tears once again as he shakes his head.

“No…no…you don’t understand…y/n…the coaches came to watch me last night and, I fell…I fell and they…they said that they were disappointed with my progress…and that I need to do better…so…I had to stay to re…rehearse…cause I failed. I failed y/n, I failed.” Jimin bursts into another fit of sobs as he clutches you tighter and, you actually have to hold back the tears that are pricking the corners of your own eyes.

“Dancers fall all the time Jiminie, it’s ok, you had been rehearsing all day. Every free moment you have, you spend in the studio practicing. I know it must have been so hard to fall in front of your coaches but, hey,” You tilt his face to you once more before he can hide away in your arm again. “You are Park fucking Jimin. You are the youngest collegiate dancer to win the national showcase and, the ONLY dancer to win it three years in a row. Dancing is like breathing to you. Audiences are mesmerized as soon as you step on the stage. You did not fail. You are exhausted. You can’t work yourself like this or, there won’t be a Park Jimin to win the showcase four years in a row.” As your words tumble out of your mouth, Jimin begins to calm down, still sniffling lightly, he hugs you again, his normally sparkling eyes, heavy with exhaustion.

“I’m so scared…y/n…there’s so much pressure and, I don’t think I’ll be able to bear it if I disappoint anyone.” You place a chaste kiss to the top of his bubblegum hair as you nod.

“It’s ok to be afraid, this is something you really want and, when we really want something, the thought of failing can be crippling but, you have worked so unbelievably hard. No one deserves this more than you do. Try and have a little faith in yourself ok? There is nothing you can’t achieve. You have something so magical within you. Working hard is good but, everyone has their limit and, if you keep pushing yourself like this, you won’t be healthy enough to achieve all of the amazing things I know you are capable of.” Your voice has dropped to an even lower volume as you continue rubbing Jimin’s back. He is looking up at you with intense focus but, you can tell he is on the verge of crashing.

“You promise? You promise you believe I can do this?” He whispers and, your heart shatters in pieces that someone whom you care so deeply for, is in so much pain.

“I don’t just believe Jimin, I know.” You whisper back before jerking your head to the other end of the couch. “Can you please try and sleep for me? When you wake up, we can go somewhere, or we can stay in,its up to you. Just try and rest of a while.” At your request, Jimin lets out a yawn, his lips pressing to your shoulder once more before he flops back onto the couch, still sniffling lightly.

You help him out of his shoes and his coat before grabbing a blanket and, literally tucking him in.

“Thank you y/n.” Jimin whispers, practically half asleep, his hand holding yours lightly.

“You don’t have to thank me, that’s what best friends are for. I’ve cried on your couch a few times too, remember.” You smile fondly as Jimin lets out a twinkling giggle, happy to see that he’s feeling somewhat better.

“I love you.” He whispers, his eyes beginning to shut.

You squeeze his hand lightly before replying.

“I love you too Jimin.”

Jimin drifts off a few moments later, his light snores filling your living room. Your heart feels achy as you reply the last few moments over in your head. You knew your words wouldn’t be enough to completely take away Jimin’s uncertainty but, you were so grateful that he came to you instead of suffering in silence. Jimin had a history of feeling this way right before a showcase. He had done something similar to this your freshman year before, winning and subsequently making history. It absolutely devastated you to see him hurting but, you meant everything you said. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that Jimin was going to go far in life; you just hoped one day, he could see it for himself.

—————————————————————————————————-

“The dark and the ocean….I think maybe it’s time that we start tackling our fears one by one, what do you think?” You look over at Yoongi, who nods from behind his phone.

“Yeah, I think so too. I don’t know how we’d combine the dark and the ocean anyway.” His voice was slightly scratchier than normal but, when you had asked if he was sick, he told you that he had lost his voice at a concert he went to the night prior. For whatever reason, you didn’t believe him but, rather than prying, you opted to enjoy the sound of Yoongi’s raspy voice becoming even raspier.

“If we did, it would be terrifying and, I would probably die.” You state bluntly, causing Yoongi to scoff in disbelief, shaking his head at you.

“You’re so dramatic.” He chastises, smirking lightly, tapping away at his phone. You shrug, not bothering to disagree with him as you doodle on the corner of your paper. “Are you comfortable confronting this fear directly? I don’t know how you would imagine it, unless, you just imagine yourself in a dark room.”

The shudder that passes through your body was completely involuntary and, Yoongi notices it.

“You don’t have to, we can think of something else.” He assures, his almond shaped eyes, wrinkled slightly in concern. You shook your head insistently, putting on a brave face.

“No, its ok…I can do it. I won’t be alone so, it will be a little easier.” You force smile onto your mouth but, Yoongi isn’t buying it. Thankfully, he decides to accept your statement anyway.

“Does tonight work for you? I have a free Tuesday for once so, I figured we could do yours today and mine on Thursday.” Yoongi’s suggests, his demeanor returning to normal. You nod, leaning back in your chair, attempting to look casual but, your heart jumped slightly in your chest.

“Yeah, that’s fine, what time?” You needed to know how much time you had to straighten up because, you definitely left dirty dishes in the sink and, you were quite certain that you dropped a pair or two of clean underwear whilst running late this morning.

“Well, it doesn’t get dark until 7:30-8 so, maybe around then?” Yoongi cocks his head slightly, his eyes sleepy as usual. You had never had such a strong urge to tuck someone into bed and, kiss their forehead until you met Min Yoongi. That boy needs more sleep.

“I’m good with that yeah. Are we eating together or do you want to eat before you come?”

“I’ll bring something, I have a lot to make up for since somebody, decided to buy our tickets last week.” He gives you a pointed look, disapproval gracing his features. You laugh, shrugging shamelessly, looking up at him.

“I guess you better bring something good then.” You insist, smiling, nudging his desk with your foot.

————————————————————————————————–

It was that very conversation that led you to where you were now: belly full of That’s Amore’s pasta, apartment tidied up, and Yoongi glancing over at you curiously.

“What?” You giggle lightly, confused at his intense gaze before, he nods over to you.

“Why are you afraid of the dark?” He murmurs, his tone cautious but curious.

You bite your lip, as you feel your body grow slightly uncomfortable. Meeting Yoongi’s gaze, you attempt to sound as brave as possible before, answering his question.

“I…used to have really bad nightmares as a kid. I had them every night for almost two years.” You admit, your eyes moving to stare at the couch instead of continuing to look at Yoongi. “My parents finally took me to a doctor and they told them that I would eventually just grow out of it. They gave me something to help me sleep through the night and, over time, the dreams finally stopped but, I slept with my light on until I was like 14.” You giggle, trying to lighten the mood, not really enjoying the serious tone of the conversation.

Yoongi nods, regarding you earnestly from the other end of the couch.

“I’m sorry.” He says softly and, you can tell that he means it. You smile over at him, brushing it off.

“No, its ok, it happened a long time ago. I’m just still not a huge fan of the dark.” You explain, finally meeting his gaze again.

“You don’t have to do this, you can just keep talking about it…I don’t want you to feel afraid.” He insists, his tone firm and certain.

You nod, your smile growing more genuine.

“I can do it. I think it will be good for me and, like I said, I won’t be alone so, I don’t think it will be too bad.” You’re lying. The dark terrified you but, logically, you understood that there was nothing dangerous about it. You know you can do this.

Yoongi nods but, you can tell that he’s uneasy, his movements cautious and hesitant as he looks around your apartment.

“Ok, do you want to start slow? We could just turn off the lights first; the streetlights shouldn’t make it too dark.” He assures you, nodding toward the window but, you shake your head at his suggestion.

“No, I think it’s better if we just do everything now. I think prolonging it will just make me more nervous.” Your voice is growing smaller and, once you catch that, you sit up straighter. As if, sitting up straighter would lessen the fear you felt. “Let’s do this.”

Yoongi nods and the two of you move to start closing the curtains and turning off the few lamps that you have on in your apartment. You both stand on opposite ends of your living room as Yoongi’s hand hovers over the main light.

“Are you ready?” He calls softly, his face littered with concern.

You nod, smiling tightly, bracing yourself for the darkness.

“You have to protect me if a shadow demon tries to eat me!” You insist, giggling, trying to lessen the tension as Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“There’s no such thing as shadow demons.” He counters, smirking before, he nods anyway. “But, yeah, I guess I’ll protect you if that happens.”

Your heart is picking up its pace in your chest as you attempt to pull a deep breath from your nose.

Yoongi looks at you pointedly and, before another question can pass his lips, you nod to the light.

“Go ahead. I’m good.” You assure him, putting on the bravest voice you can find.

There’s a click and then, darkness envelops your apartment. You could never have imagined that your apartment could get to this level of darkness. The room was pitch black, you held your hand out in front of your face and you saw nothing but a faint blob.

“Are you ok?” Yoongi calls softly from the other end of the room.

Another shaky breath passes your lips as you attempt to calm yourself.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m ok.” You assure him but, even you could tell that your tone wasn’t convincing. There’s a shuffling on the other end of the room that causes you to jump out of your skin. “What was that?”

“It’s just me; I’m trying to find my way to the couch.” Yoongi’s voice calms you and, you curse yourself for being so obviously afraid.

“Yeah, I should probably do that too. I don’t want to just stand here…vulnerable…where literally anything can attack me if it wanted to.” You muse casually and, this causes Yoongi to finally break out in his rickety laughter.

“Nothing is going to attack you, just come here and, be careful not to trip over anything. That’s the only real danger you need to worry about.” Yoongi’s voice is practically a whisper and, you use it to guide yourself to your sofa. You finally feel the familiar fabric and make your way around the arm of the couch before, tucking your body into one of the cushions. The heartbeat in your chest hasn’t lessened its pounding but, you feel slightly better that you’re not doing this alone.

“I made it.” You whisper but, Yoongi could already feel you sit down at the opposite end of the couch.

“How are you feeling?” Yoongi whispers back to you and, you feel yourself relaxing slightly at the sound of his voice. He really should be doing ASMR in his free time. Your mouth opens to lie again but, you end up sighing in defeat.

“I’m scared.” It’s the first time either of you have uttered this phrase since beginning your project and, you grow uneasy as you wait for his response.

“That’s ok.” He assures and then he falls silent for a moment. “I know it’s difficult for you. We can stop whenever you want.”

“I’m ok right now; my eyes are starting to adjust.”

Another moment of silence passes between the two of you and, you feel a familiar thickness in the air that seems to occur a lot when you and Yoongi are alone. You close your eyes for a moment, stifling your desire to mention it to him. He had made it very clear on the Ferris Wheel that he wasn’t interested in being with you that way… ‘right now.’

“You can…move closer to me, if you need to. I’m not sure if that will help but, you can try. I don’t mind.” Yoongi whispers and, his offer catches you completely off guard. Should you move closer to him?

Silently, you scoot your body down the length of the couch until you feel your shins meet Yoongi’s feet. He must have been sitting cross-legged on the couch and, now that you’re closer to him, you can make out his posture. He’s sitting with his legs crossed, his body turned to face the direction you were sitting, while his hands rested in his lap.

“Thank you.” You whisper, and you can sort of make out the faint smile ( :] ) on his lips.

“Is it any better?”

“Yeah, it is, actually, thanks.” You repeat your gratitude and you finally start to feel the anxiety subsiding from your chest. Yoongi was warm and, he smelt like berries and the ocean? An odd yet tantalizing combination that, in all honesty, made your stomach tighten. His hands are adorned with a few rings and your eyes squint in curiosity as you try to make out what they look like; regretting that you hadn’t checked them out when the lights were on.

“What are you trying to look at?” Yoongi’s whisper causes you to smile as you realize that his eyes were also adjusted to the darkness and, he was probably wondering why you were staring intently at his lap.

“Your rings.” You giggle, your head jerking their direction. At your answer, Yoongi’s fingers flutter lightly in response, his head turning down to look at them.

“Oh, yeah, I don’t wear these a lot but, my roommate Namjoon got them for me and, started giving me shit for not liking them. So, I made a point to wear them more.” He explains his tone one of fondness and annoyance. Another laugh passes your lips as you nod in understanding.

“They look nice. Namjoon has good taste.” You compliment, feeling far more comfortable.

“Yeah, he’s alright, I guess.” Yoongi jests but, you know he doesn’t mean what he says, always hiding behind a snarky comment. Before you can speak again, Yoongi holds one of his hands out to you. “You can look at them if you want.”

Your heart stalls a moment as you look at Yoongi’s out stretched hand. The hand that had been on your own lap comes up to bring Yoongi’s closer to your view. The rings were actually beautiful and, you were thankful that the tiniest amount of light had escaped through the curtains so you could properly see them. There were four of them each covered in silver, the engravings depicting the four elements: Earth, fire, water, and air. You smile as your fingers gently examine Yoongi’s rings (hand). His hands were one of your favorite things about him. They were nearly double the size of your own, blue and green veins pushed slightly against the surface, fingernails bitten out of what you could assume as nervousness. There is a light increase in your heart rate as you continue to examine Yoongi’s hand and, if he had noticed that you stopped looking at his rings, he wasn’t showing it. You tilt his hand up so, its perpendicular to your own, your fingertips only reaching the middle of his fingers, as you place your palm against his hand.

“Your hand is small.” Yoongi whispers but, this time, you detect a different tone from him that you can’t say you’ve ever heard before.

A small smile graces your mouth as you nod.

“Against yours it is.” The whisper that leaves your lips is almost in audible, your eyes find Yoongi’s and, you find him staring back at you, the faint streetlight illuminating his face. The two of you stare at each other as you feel Yoongi’s fingers lace with your own. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you lick your lips in attempt to compensate for the dryness in your mouth. Without warning, the two of you are leaning towards each other, your shaky breathing intertwining momentarily before, your lips press together. Yoongi audibly lets out a sigh of what literally sounds like relief as he mold his lips against yours. You rise up on your knees lightly, in an attempt to get closer to him, your free hand coming up to gently touch his face. The butterflies that had been taunting you for the past month erupt in your stomach, your heart racketing against your sternum. Yoongi’s hand that was interlaced with yours slips out of your grip and, settles on your waist instead, pulling you into his body. Your lips are beginning to move against one another and, you actually feel Yoongi’s heartbeat rattling against your hand. The thought of you having that effect on him, makes you clench between your thighs. Your body moves to make its way into his lap but, before you make it there, Yoongi is slowly pulling away. He seems reluctant to stop, his swollen lips still pecking against yours as he presses his forehead to your own.

“I don’t want to stop but, I think…”His breathing is too ragged for him to speak properly, and you press your lips to his cheek in an attempt to sooth him, even though, your breathing is just as bad. “We….should slow down….”

You nod in agreement but, relish in the fact that Yoongi is still holding you close to him, your body leaning into his chest.

“You’re right.” You whisper in return, your breath just as shaky as Yoongi maneuvers you so, that you’re tucked into the side of his body. Your hand rests on his chest and you smile as you feel his heart pummeling against the palm of your hand. The two of you lay there for a moment in complete silence, Yoongi’s fingers play with your own as you wait for the other to say something.

Surprisingly enough, it’s Yoongi who breaks the silence, his raspy whisper penetrating the darkness around you.

“Are you still scared?” He whispers softly, his eyes finding yours.

You look up towards him, a soft smile on your lips.

“No.”

Yoongi smiles back at you and, you can’t help but notice how shy he’s being, his eyes softer than you have ever seen before.

“Good.”

Maybe, the dark wasn’t so bad after all.

453 notes · View notes

jeserai · 5 years

Text

bits and pieces (4/7)

catradora week 2019 day 4 - silver/gold

“There are also many comparisons to heavenly bodies—She-Ra, the sun, C’yra both the moon and the stars—showing again that while they were related, they were also enemies. The moon and stars swallow the sun each night, and the sun rises again each morning. Anyway. Another thing that every myth I have read has in common is that C’yra was the only being—divine or mortal—that could mortally wound She-Ra. But other times, C’yra is referred to as She-Ra’s second sword. Their relationship was volatile, built on blood and war, but when their morals—She-Ra’s need for justice and C’yra’s need for retribution—collided, it was said that the earth and even the sky would tremble at their combined wrath.”

This late at night—and on a Friday night, at that—the library is blessedly empty, and Adora deposits her things on the desk before making herself comfortable. Thesis work isn’t due until the end of the year, but she’s seen time and time again how much procrastination had hurt the seniors in the years before her. Besides, she’s actually excited and interested in her topic: a comprehensive study of ancient Etherian gods and how they helped shape modern culture. After going over various research with her professor and his husband, they’d decided that focusing on only a few of the gods would be a much easier task, given the extensive lore and research.

So for now, Adora is researching the most well-known and celebrated Etherian god, She-Ra. She’d been able to peruse her professor’s extensive collection of Etherian artifacts, and at his insistence, even borrow whatever she wanted for her research. (“Anything for a fellow palaeophile—and please, call me George.” her professor had said, beaming.)

All Adora had taken was a small mountain of paintings and texts—both translated and left in their original language—she wishes now that she hadn’t been so shy about it, but the first draft of the thesis won’t be due for about a month, so she has more than enough time.

For now—

Adora begins to look through the pictures she’d taken, trying to get a feel for the god she is now studying; fishes her phone out of her pocket and starts a new voice memo to record her findings. “I’ve just started my research on the Etherian goddess She-Ra for my thesis, a comprehensive study of ancient Etherian gods and how they helped shape modern culture. That title may change later, but for now—She-Ra. From what I already know, she was kind of the leader of all the other gods. Here it says…” Adora skims the glyphs and continues, “she is the defender of order, uniter of all lands, king of the gods. Often times, she is seen with her weapon of choice, the Sword of Protection.”

Adora pauses the voice memo to read through a paperclipped bundle of text; interspersed are sticky notes with scrawled notes and corrections by Lance and George. When she’s finished, she unpauses it to say, “So far, She-Ra is the only god to have a sort of mortal enemy that was also a god: C’yra. Both are Etherian war goddesses, avenger of wrongdoings, night huntress, mistress of slaughter. It seems that while She-Ra fought for balance and good, C’yra fought for whatever side pleased her. She was invoked by the ancient rulers before battles, and demanded a sacrifice upon victory.” Squinting at the glyphs on the well-worn scroll in front of her, Adora reads, “She-Ra never demanded any kind of living sacrifice, only prayers.”

There are paintings of the two goddesses on tablets and scrolls covering her desk; She-Ra holding up a sword, a shining beacon of hope and divine retribution, C’yra, feline-headed, snarling, daggers in both hands. Even from just the images, Adora can feel C’yra’s bloodlust and rage, She-Ra’s cool partiality to justice.

“So far, out of all the Etherian gods that I have studied, C’yra and She-Ra are definitely the most interesting—in most of the myths and paintings of them, they are pictured as mortal enemies, but I have also read that they were comrades, both on the battlefield and off. My professor wrote that some myths say that they used to fight for good together until some major breaking point forced them apart—he only had half of the tablet with the story, so he doesn’t know what—and his husband writes that they were always enemies, and only fought together when their morals aligned. But…there was—here it is,” Adora reaches for another wellworn scroll and reads, “in summary, a legend that when one of C’yra’s eyes was gouged out, She-Ra plucked the brightest star from the sky to replace it. There are also many comparisons to heavenly bodies—She-Ra, the sun, C’yra both the moon and the stars—showing again that while they were related, they were also enemies. The moon and stars swallow the sun each night, and the sun rises again each morning. Anyway. Another thing that every myth I have read has in common is that C’yra was the only being—divine or mortal—that could mortally wound She-Ra. But other times, C’yra is referred to as She-Ra’s second sword. Their relationship was volatile, built on blood and war, but when their morals—She-Ra’s need for justice and C’yra’s need for retribution—collided, it was said that the earth and even the sky would tremble at their combined wrath.” There comes then the quiet tap-tap-tap of nails on the door, so Adora pauses the voice memo again and glances back at the door as it opens.

“Figured you’d be in here,” Catra says. She sounds fond, amused as she sweeps aside a pile of papers to sit herself on the desk. She looks at all the work spread out and makes a disgruntled face before rolling her eyes. “I hope you know what a huge nerd you are, Adora.”

“Shut up,” Adora mumbles, but it’s automatic, and there is no malice in her words. “I didn’t want to wait to start my thesis, and besides, I actually really like what I’m studying.”

“Is that so? What is all this junk, anyway?” Catra picks up the closest paper to her—a copied image of C’yra; from here, Adora can’t tell which one.

“Well, that’s C’yra, one of the Etherian war goddesses. I think you’d actually like her.”

“What do you mean, actually?” Catra sounds offended, but Adora just rolls her eyes and scoots her chair closer so she sits between Catra’s spread legs.

“You’re always telling me how boring class is.”

“Yeah, the class is boring. I would’ve dropped it if not for a certain pretty blonde girl though.”

Adora flushes pink and ducks her head to hide her flustered smile; then leans her head on Catra’s thigh as her girlfriend reads to herself. “Avenger of wrongdoings, night huntress, master of slaughter? I like her.”

“Mistress,” Adora corrects automatically, and then, “I figured you would. I’m telling you, they’re both so interesting!”

“C’yra and…” the sound of more papers rustling, and Catra’s thigh tenses under Adora’s cheek as she shifts. “She-Ra?”

“Yeah, another Etherian war goddess.”

“Yeah, I like C’yra better. Anyway—I’d ask if you ate, but I know you haven’t.” As if on cue, Adora’s stomach grumbles, and when she looks up to give Catra a sheepish little grin, she just rolls her eyes and tugs on Adora’s ponytail. “We’ll stop by somewhere on the way home. I could go for a milkshake—you’re buying.”

“Can I finish this first? Please? Their stories—”

“Will be here for you to decipher tomorrow, nerd,” Catra interrupts. “Even if this C’yra sounds pretty cool. The Bright Star, huh?”

Adora pushes herself to sit up, rests her elbows on Catra’s thighs and ignores the way she hisses (“your elbows are fucking bony, Adora,” Catra always says) and nods. “You’re really getting better, I’m proud of you!”

“Yeah, well,” Catra shrugs. “Nerdy dead languages aren’t my thing.” But Adora can tell that she’s pleased at the compliment by the way the corners of her lips twitch up into a self-satisfied grin.

“Then how about I’ll keep researching and you can listen to me talk?”

Catra huffs out a sigh and shakes her head, amused. “You’re not gonna give this up, huh? Fine, ten minutes and we leave, it’s late.”

“Thank you!” before Catra can change her mind, Adora leans up to kiss her cheek and then grabs one of Lance’s books that he’d bookmarked for her. She stands so Catra can sit in her chair, and when Catra is comfortable, Adora sits as well, relaxing automatically as Catra’s arm wrap around her middle. It should be uncomfortable in the tiny chair, and it is, a little, but the little bit of intimacy makes it more than worth it.

After unpausing the voice memo again, Adora clears her throat and says, “I’m reading Myths of Ancient Etheria, the first section that is bookmarked. In summary, it says that the first time She-Ra and C’yra fought together was to rid Etheria of a scourge on the land. She-Ra, of course, felt it was her duty to restore the balance between good and evil, and the scourge—the Horde—fell out of C’yra’s grace when they destroyed one of her temples and a village that worshipped her. Even the sun and moon paused to watch the battle at its fiercest—Etheria’s first eclipse.”

From behind her, Catra makes a tiny, appreciative noise, and Adora bites back a grin. She knew Catra would enjoy this too. “This was also where C’yra became known as She-Ra’s second sword. The battle was so important to Etherian history because none of the gods worked together, ever. So having She-Ra and C’yra, mortal enemies, fight together on the battlefield, for humans, at that? C’yra was also known to be hot headed, stubborn and prideful, so her coming to She-Ra at all would have been considered something hugely important. I—”

“Second sword,” Catra nudges her, impatient and just a little bit petulant, “what about the second sword thing?”

“Right, right. As I said earlier, She-Ra always carried her Sword of Protection—its jewel in the center was said to shine brighter than even the North Star—and C’yra primarily used smaller hunting knives or daggers. This again perpetuates their sun, moon and stars theme: She-Ra’s sword bright and big, C’yra’s knives smaller and more inconspicuous. But as for being She-Ra’s second sword, this was because of the way they fought together; like they were on the same wavelength. She-Ra was bigger and mainly used brute force—no one else, not even the other gods, could lift her Sword—but C’yra was smaller, and like her title of night huntress, faster, more cunning. Nothing could ever hurt She-Ra, but even if things could, no one could get the chance, because when they fought together, C’yra took any enemy that even tried to sneak passed She-Ra’s line of sight. Her second sword.”

“Oh—another thing to note. The ancient Etherians believe that gold was indestructible, blessed by the gods. This belief was spread because of She-Ra: gold for immortality, blessings, and the sun. C’yra, despite being a god, has no sign of gold anywhere but for her eye, the one given to her by She-Ra. This again perpetuates the idea of gold being a sign of healing and indestructibility. Silver was instead associated with C’yra, for its symbolism of destruction, repentance, and neutrality. Even today, silver can be seen as a symbol for deceptiveness and cold; calling back to C’yra’s neutrality in her morals. Statues of She-Ra and C’yra are done in gold and silver perspectively; their temples were full of riches to show the people’s respect.”

This time, when Catra nudges her, Adora glances up at the clock. 2:46 am. She disentangles herself from Catra’s grip and stops the voice memo for good this time before settling back into Catra’s warmth; suddenly, without the buzz of new knowledge and research, she’s exhausted. “I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“You do tend to do that,” Catra sounds beyond fond, but she lets go of Adora to gently push her up after a moment of quiet. “Now can we go? I’m exhausted.”

“Fine, fine,” Adora huffs. She packs her things as quickly as possible—Catra doesn’t help, just sighs every few seconds as if that will somehow make things go more quickly along—and when she’s done, (“god, finally,” Catra says petulantly,) she reaches out for Catra to hold her hand. “Thank you for coming to get me, and staying with me even though it’s so late…”

“You would’ve done the same for me,” Catra shrugs. “And I guess it wasn’t too boring, besides. You picked a good topic, Adora. You’ll do well on your thesis too, I know it.”

Adora is grateful for the darkness now surrounding them; her cheeks are flushed pink and she knows Catra would tease her endlessly for it. “Thank you, really.”

“I didn’t do anything, dumbass,” even without seeing her face, Adora can practically see Catra rolling her eyes, “you don’t have to thank me.”

(And that gives Adora the oddest sense of déjà vu—she dismisses it, because yeah, of course she’s heard Catra say that before, she says it all the time.) “Then how about I buy you dinner?”

Catra snorts out a laugh and squeezes Adora’s hand, trapping her against the closed car door before leaning in to kiss her quick. “Why, Adora, are you flirting with me?”

“Is it working?”

Adora feels Catra smile wide against her lips before she kisses her again, again. When she pulls back, she looks soft, fond. “Buy me dinner and maybe you’ll find out.”

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#she ra #shera #catradoraweek #catradora #my writing #they are gay and in college and gay and roommates and gay and gfs #anyw they get mcdonalds and eat it on the hood of the car and catra steals adoras fries and its like 3am but they are young and in love so

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talesfromthefreezerinmymind · 4 years

Text

The Adventure of the Accidental Client

On this day in 1859 (May 22) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the creator of Sherlock Holmes, was born.

May is also Mental Health Awareness month.

What do these two things have in common? For me, quite a lot. I’ll start this story in early 2012.

At that time I was a freshman at Maryville College, in my second semester of majoring in graphic design. I was completely miserable.

Why was I miserable, exactly? Well…

I had no friends (turns out, I had never learned how to make them)

I doubted that graphic design was the career for me (Imposter Syndrome vibes)

I was homesick (even though I went home every single weekend)

I phoned my parents every night and told them about my day. During one such call, my dad told me about a show on Netflix that he’d started watching: Sherlock. It was made by some of the same people that made another favorite of ours, Doctor Who. I was intrigued, and had plenty of time on my hands, so I thought I’d give it a try.

If you know nothing of Sherlock Holmes (as I did when I first started watching the show), he’s a famous English detective residing in 221B Baker Street created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson solves mysteries in the late 1800s and early 1900s. But for Sherlock, the adventures are set in the modern day. Over the course of a week or so, I watched the whole first season. Normally I’m slow to warm up to things, but I was instantly hooked.

I kept watching the show. I read interviews with the cast and crew. I found a fan-run website with all sorts of lovely info. I discovered Tumblr and all the fandom madness that lives there. The second season had already premiered in the UK, and I dredged up info on it (and spoiled it for myself). I started reading the original novels and short stories that the show was based on. I read everything Sherlock Holmes in about 5 months. And then started reading it over again.

Sherlock had found me at just the right moment. I was unusually lonely. I was unusually bored. I saw myself in John Watson; a directionless man in need of a purpose. A deeply loyal man, without a friend to adhere to. I saw myself in Sherlock Holmes; a man whose mind is always running, who loves feeling clever and in control. A man for whom feeling like an outsider is normal, though not always welcome. In the words of John Watson, “I naturally gravitated to London, that great cesspool into which all the loungers and idlers are irresistibility drained.” I was a lounger, an idler, and London had found me.

The Sherlock Holmes stories rekindled my love of reading, which had been dormant for a few years, and sparked a much more serious interest in writing. There was just something about how Doyle went from unknown medical man to literary giant that grabbed my attention. He started in one world and ended up in another. It got me thinking that perhaps though I began in graphic design, I could end up somewhere else: a published author myself. So I wrote more. And I read more. I changed my major in the Spring of 2013 to English with a concentration in Creative Writing (Oh, and I transferred to UT in the fall of 2012. I had to get away from Maryville. Fresh start. Sorta). In 2015, right after graduating UT, I joined an organization called the Society of Children's Books Writers and Illustrators. Long story short, in April 2016 I signed the contract for Roof Octopus, my first picture book.

Sadly, though, writing doesn’t pay much when you’re first starting out so I really did need a backup career for the moment. Fall 2015 I enrolled at Pellissippi State Community College (backtracking, I know, per the usual order of things) and began earning an associate’s in graphic design.

Though by this point I was far removed from my freshman year at Maryville, I still felt all the loneliness and failure that I had felt then (and I was still fanatical about Sherlock; third season came out in 2014). Honestly, I had been feeling watered-down versions of those emotions since my junior year of high school (that’s another story for another time). Plus, there was something else that I was carrying that was growing heavier over time: an addiction to daydreaming.

An addiction to daydreaming? Is that even possible? Well, it is possible. It even has a fancy name: Maladaptive Daydreaming Disorder (MDD). It’s when a person’s habit of daydreaming is so obsessive that it interferes with everyday life. I would describe it like there’s a TV on in my head all day. It places my favorite shows, lots of reruns but new stuff, too. Your daydreams are like movies that you write and direct and star in and you can’t get enough. Part of the time they are white noise and I can ignore it. But more often than not, all I want to do is sit and watch. I have trouble focusing on what I’m reading or writing. I zone out super easily while listening to music or podcasts. I have trouble falling asleep for my mind not “turning off”. I zone out in class, at meetings, at church, and in groups of people when no one is talking directly to me. I daydream while driving and running and showering and cleaning and swimming and biking and just walking through my house. I’ve been struggling to focus while writing all this out; I’d rather daydream about writing this than actually do it. (Fun Fact: A big part of my daydreaming is I like to talk aloud while I’m doing it if I’m alone. On second thought, that’s probably more of an embarrassing fact than fun…)

People with MDD aren’t crazy; they don’t hear voices in their head or think people are around who really aren't there. They are fully aware that their daydream worlds aren’t real. But for some people MDD is so severe that they don’t leave their homes for days; they stay in and daydream their life away. Luckily, my MDD is not that severe. Often MDD is used as a coping mechanism. Even though I’ve never experience trauma like some people have, I still really crave an escape from life and all the emotions brought on by it.

I had never heard of Maladaptive Daydreaming Disorder until one day in the summer of 2016; I googled for ways to quit daydreaming and stuff about MDD was in the results. Up to this point I’d slowly been growing tired of my daydreaming. I’d always had an active imagination. Played pretend a lot as a kid, had imaginary friends. But in college it started to get out of hand. Particularly falling asleep was a struggle, or if I woke up super early, falling back asleep. It took me ages sometimes to write a paper or read through something. However, I had so much time on my hands that it didn’t really matter how much I procrastinated. (While at UT and Pellissippi, I still didn’t try to make friends.) I didn’t talk too much to anyone about how much I hated college. About how alone I was. I’m a Christian, but I didn’t pray about any of it. I didn’t talk about all the ways that I felt like a failure. I bottled it all up inside, because that’s what Sherlock did. Sherlock was a loner, who was never a failure. Emotions were for other people. He was too smart for them. Sherlock never seemed to let loneliness get to him, and I wasn’t going to let it either.

Anyway, the more I learned about MDD the more I was convinced that I had it. The most important thing that I learned about MDD was that people who struggled with it could get help. Therapy and medication (like antidepressants) had helped other people get control of their life once again. In the back of my mind, I began to wonder: I had been using MDD to help cope with life, but now did I need help coping with MDD? Nevertheless, true to my never-bare-my-soul nature, I shared these discoveries and questions with absolutely no one.

I kept on keeping on. Finished a year at Pellissippi (still worried about whether or not I could make it as a graphic designer). Signed that book contract. Stayed close (as close as you can be without spilling your guts) to my friends at home, who I usually had to make an effort to see (something I really missed from the good old days pre-college). Tried (and failed) not to freak out as some of those friends got married and/or moved off. Who needs friends anyway, right? They’ll just ditch you eventually; no one’s as loyal as John Watson. I daydreamed too much. I wrote and wrote. I worked at Cove Lake State Park in the summer. I started a second year at Pellissippi.

Then one night in December 2016, I stayed the night at my Nannie’s. After I went to bed, I, per usual, had a horrible time falling sleep. I laid awake for hours, but eventually drifted off.

The next day when I came home, my mom asked me if I had slept well.

That was all the provoking that I needed. I broke down and cried. I told her that I could hardly ever sleep because my mind would not turn off. My daydreaming had become too much. Once it had been my rescue, my escape from everyday life, but now I felt like I was going mad.

My parents talked it over together and decided that I should see someone professional. My mom made me an appointment at a counseling office. On December 20, 2016, I had my first meeting with my therapist.

It was rather surreal. In the first season of Sherlock, John sees a therapist because he’s trying to deal with returning home from war. In January 2017, just mere weeks after my first appointment, the fourth season of Sherlock aired. In in the first episode, Sherlock (spoiler) himself pays a visit to John’s therapist. Sherlock actually needs help and he’s actually asking for. And I had just done the same thing. Life is funny like that sometimes.

Over the last 3+ years my therapist has helped me understand a lot about myself. Anxiety has been present in my life for several years now. Talking to people I don’t know, and even people that I do know, often gives me some level of anxiety. I’m always worrying if I sound weird or dumb or boring. I never know what to talk about. Therapy has helped me build up my confidence so it’s much easier for me to talk to others now. Am I still an introvert? Oh, yes. Can I carry on a conversation with someone I just meet? Yeah. Do I always want to? No, not really. But I’m much more willing to try it now.

I’ve always hated change, good or bad. Watching friends grow up and reach life milestones (marriage, kids, dream job) all while I changed majors, changed jobs, and had little luck in the dating realm was (and still is) rough. Therapy has helped me be a little more okay with changes in my life. I’m not so scared of the future as I once was.

I prefer to keep to myself. I’m a perfectionist and a control freak. I hate asking for help. I always feel like an oddball, even among my close friends. I love feeling clever. I hate feeling like a failure. I hate change.

I am Sherlock Holmes.

Therapy keeps me in check. Keeps from going over the edge. Helps me understand myself, the world around me, and those in it. It helps me become a better version of myself.

Therapy is my John Watson.

I don’t know what would have happened to me had I not discovered Sherlock when I did. I do believe that God knows exactly what types of things would catch my attention (i.e. mysteries and best friend adventures) and perhaps that’s why and how things turned out the way they did. He is the Great Author, after all. I am thankful that He loved me even through the times that I was not a fan of myself, running and hiding from everyone, including Him.

I’ve told this story today because (1) I love telling stories. It’s why I write. It’s why I read. Heck, it’s why I’m addicted to daydreaming. Yep, I still daydream quite a lot, but I feel in control of it now. I’ve been taking an antidepressant for about two years now and that has helped with the daydreaming and my overall mood, too. I’ve also told this story today because (2) stories can save us. Sherlock Holmes saved me. I was a lounger, an idler, who wandered into 221B Baker Street in need of a mystery solved. What was happening to Lucy Branam? Can she be saved? Sherlock was just the detective for the job.

Happy 161st birthday, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Thank you for writing.

#sherlock #bbc sherlock #mental health #therapy #maladaptive daydreaming #mdd #anxienty

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