#i’m so nervous posting this i am no writer by any means but i hope y’all enjoy it !!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

satellite-evans · 1 year

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poets & soulmates

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Summary: Harry doesn’t know how to react when he learns that you don’t believe in soulmates.

Word count: a cute little blurb

Warnings: angst? Flufffff

A/N: heyyyyy!!!!!

It’s been ages since I last posted a fic, so I am soooo excited to post my very first Harry Styles one! I really hope you guys like it, I’ve worked on this for a while, so let’s see how it goes. I’m very excited and nervous to post this, but I am so happy to be back! Please tell me what you guys think and give me as much as feedback as you can so I can grow and be a better Harry fic writer for you all xxx

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

If you had to describe the love you shared with Harry with a poem, you would probably choose the one from Edgar Allan Poe.

“We loved with a love that was more than love.”

It said so much in such few words; the best description of your love for him.

Because it is true, it is more than love. Always had been. If you took the love out of the relationship, you and Harry would be left with so much to survive. There was trust, for example. And also intimacy. Not to forget there was an understanding between you, too, that no one understood. If you were in a room with thousands of people, he would recognize you, every single time. Like you were a shining diamond between rocks. The effect you both had on each other, was beyond explaining in chemistry. Harry could touch you, and the breath that would escape from your lips oh so silently would already expose the effect he had on you.

Harry was no different, either. Seeing you smile proudly when you looked at him, made him turn into dust, that you blew away with your eyes. But he was afraid at first. To love.

He was afraid to love you.

For him, you were a stunning mystery. You carried things deep inside you that no one understood, and Harry was afraid to fail like the others. In his eyes, you were like the ocean and he was just a man who loved the waves but was completely terrified of swimming.

How couldn’t he be? At twenty nine, everyone had an idea in their head about how Harry was in relationships. Some said that he was single because he had commitment issues, others said the reason he was still alone was that he was too much of a playboy.

Yes, he had a few relationships before you and some of them did not end well, but Harry always respected and treated them with his kindness, always wanted the best for them.

He would do everything for his love, for you.

“Hey, love?” He asked you, clearly with hesitation. The way his voice shook a little didn’t go unnoticed by you in his London home where the both of you were lying in his bed. After spring came, Harry offered you to stay with him until summer so the two of you could enjoy long walks in the park with his favorite companion. You never said yes to an offer so quickly before in your life.

“Yes H, everything okay?”

How? How was it that every time Harry wanted to start a subject that was sensitive for him, you already knew by just the way he asked you his first question? Call it magic, call it luck. Harry liked to call it love.

“Do you think we’re soulmates? Like-I mean, we would be together and we will be forever?”

He didn’t know why that question was so important to him, but it was. He wanted to know your opinions and thoughts about the future both of you had. Every time Harry was dreaming about his future and how it would look, he realized you were always there. In the audience when he opened his biggest show ever, in the delivery room when he held his baby for the first time, everywhere. So your answer was very important to him. He wanted- no; he needed to know if he was present in your future as much as you were present in his.

“No, I don’t think we are. But that’s because I don’t believe in soulmates.”

Ouch. That shouldn’t have hurt him, but it did. Blaming you would be pointless. You didn’t believe in the whole idea of soulmates, but that didn’t make him less insecure. He knew it was too good to be true. That you were too good to be true.

The whole aura of the room changed and Harry slowly got up from where he was lying between your legs. You saw that his demeanor changed and that the happy, slightly tired Harry got replaced with a sad Harry.

“Hey, hey what’s that all about? Why the sad face?”

Honesty was one thing you both took extremely seriously. So that’s what you wanted to do this time, too. But without realizing you broke slightly Harry’s heart.

“It’s nothing, really. You don’t have to believe we are soulmates. I don’t know why I’m sad if I am being honest.” He said with a slight smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. He was clearly devastated by your answer.

You sat closer to him on his bed, touched his cheeks with your hands, and stared him deeply into his eyes. Harry already felt his heartbeat going faster. It was going so fast that he thought he was going to have a stroke. He held on to your arm dearly, so if he fainted, you could hold him. Like you always had been.

“I don’t believe in soulmates, and I don’t think that you & I were meant to end up together. What I believe is that we fell in love & that we worked hard for our relationship. I mean, look at you, you’re an amazing person with qualities so great that an individual can only dream of having those. Every woman is lucky to have you. I am from another country and I am younger than you. Remember all the news that they made about us when we first started going out? They told me I was a gold digger, that you were too good for me, that you cheated on me, and so on. But we didn’t listen to any of them. We let our love grow because we knew, H. We knew that what we had was special, and not everybody was lucky enough to feel what we felt. So no, I don’t think we are soulmates. But you are the one for me; Harry. You were in my past when I didn’t even know. You are my person in the present, And you will be in the future. Because I will always, undoubtedly, love you.”

Without waiting for his response, you connected your lips with his. You knew he was sensitive and these bare confessions took a toll on him, so you just kissed him, to let him know it was okay. That you were there for him, always.

“Just give me 3-5 business days, and I’ll come up with even a bigger love confession, promise.”

Harry said, after he broke the bruising kiss.

He wasn’t lying. Harry had no words to say to you. He knew you loved him, but not that much. It was like his brain & heart were on fire and you just put them out with your words. Relief washed over him, and like a cherry on his favorite cake, you kissed him with adoration.

“Oh, I know you will. It’s a known fact that you were always better with words, but just so you know, you don’t have to. I feel your love every time you look at me. Hate to break it to you, but your eyes give it away how much you love me, Styles.”

He didn’t care about the idea of the whole soulmate anymore. He felt so stupid that he was thinking about that. The love that the both of you shared, was more special, and rare. The two of you were even better than soulmates.

“That I do, Y/N. That I do. I love you so fucking much. It sometimes hurts. It hurts not to touch you, not to be near you, not to kiss you.”

He closed the gap between you with a passionate kiss again, that knocked your breath away. Your whole body was on fire, not knowing what to do. With every touch of his on your skin, the fire started to get more and more aggressive. He released your lips, but stayed close, so you could feel his breath on your lips and he could hear your heartbeat going faster.

“I am no poet, Y/N but just know that if I was, you would be my biggest inspiration.”

You looked him in the eyes, trying to control your breathing, but it was a lost cause. His blue eyes were like ice digging into your heart, and the only thing you could do was surrender.

“That might be the best poem I’ve ever heard.”

#harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n

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magneticecstasy · 2 months

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clandestine ✤ joel miller part i — new horizons

series masterlist & foreword | ao3

moodboard is not an illustration of how reader should look, just for the ~vibes~

fic summary: it’s september 2016, you're in your final year of sixth form college and joel miller joins the teaching staff as your new history teacher. over the course of the academic year, boundaries are blurred, crossed and ruined when joel begins to reciprocate your insatiable crush on him; what should be so wrong just feels so right.

rating: E | pairing/AU: teacher!joel x student!fem!reader

chapter warnings/tags: (6.5k) this is an 18+ fic so mdni! dubcon (due to student/teacher relationship, both parties are consenting otherwise), age gap (reader is 18, Joel is in his early 30s), power imbalance, inappropriate relationships (teacher!Joel is not a good teacher), fetishization of new-adulthood (if you squint), some pervy!Joel, inexperienced!fem!reader is hornee™, pet names (Joel calls reader darlin’, sweetheart etc.), minimal description of fem!reader where possible, reader has hair and is generally able-bodied, otherwise undescribed where possible.

a/n: ahhhh the first chapter of my first fic finally out!! i won't lie i am so nervous to post this but reading other lovely fics from the pedro pascal cinematic universe™ written by some amazing people has inspired me to write and post my own. any feedback is greatly appreciated, especially as a new writer. i hope you all enjoy the teacher!joel brainrot as much as i do.💞

account tags (let me know if you'd like to be added): @sugadolly can't wait for you to read this! hope you enjoy!💓

Tuesday 4th September

8:44am

The calm corridor echoes with the sound of your shoes hitting the ground hard as you run to your registration period before halting suddenly.

“I’m here, Mrs Marvelley,” you holler at your form tutor as you tumble into her classroom in a rush and fluster. “I’m here before quarter to,” you pant, heavy rucksack in tow, having just bolted up two flights. You arrive just as she calls your name on the attendance register, narrowly avoiding a late mark that you were keen to avoid on your last first day of school.

She rolls her eyes, and mumbles something along the lines of “You’re lucky.”

Usually punctual to form registration and lessons, you were delayed countless times this morning by classmates wishing you a belated ‘happy birthday’ for last Sunday, your 18th. Born at the start of September, you're among the oldest in your year, one of the first in your cohort to reach adulthood. Many of these conversations with friends animatedly recapped the events of your party the previous Saturday. The gathering was a typical teenage house party: no parental supervision, loud music, junk food, with a few bottles of booze and packs of cigarettes acquired on the sly through nefarious means, with way more people that you’d initially invited. Luckily, your close friends helped with the cleanup operation the next day, and your parents' trust in you remained intact and you stayed in their good books for the time being.

Realising the time, you part ways with your friends, each heading to your respective form classes, a wave of contentment washing over you. Unfortunately, someone had to go and ruin it.

Taunts of ‘look at her, MILF in the making’ , and ‘best time to start an OnlyFans is now, babe’ from a crew of boys you’ve never liked echo down the corridor. Their cruel laughter at their own remarks colour your anger a violent crimson.

“Oh, get fucked ,” you seethe through clenched teeth, flipping a middle finger in their direction, all the while praying you won’t get caught for the foul language. Turning on your heel you swiftly retreat, eager to escape the confrontation.

A few metres down the corridor, you overhear the boys’ guffaws being cut off by a chastation from a voice that’s foreign to you. Rounding the corridors’ corner, you decide to hang about and eavesdrop on the hecklers’ punishment.

“Now boys, I know y’all don’t know me yet but I don’t think this is a great introduction for my first day here.” The voice is deep, gravelly, laced with an American accent that you guess as Southern—maybe Texan if you had to be precise. Must be someone new, maybe a teacher? A member of Senior Leadership? You’re sure you’ll find out during registration if you were to ask around.

“I-I-It was only a joke, sir,” one of the crew pleaded to him. Not so big and bad now, eh?

“Oh sure , sure.” The voice drawls, laced in sarcasm. “Funny ‘cause it was lookin’ like you were botherin’ a young lady.”

“Oh sir, don’t be like that, it was just banter,” another boy pipes up.

The unknown voice lets out a deep huff. “Do you need your heads checked? Y’all were spoutin’ some real sexist things, and that ain’t a joke, boys — it’s not ‘banter’ ,” the gruff voice now raised, seething. “Seein’ as your ‘jokes’ have now landed yourselves in after school detention tonight, I think ya’ll need to come with me to get your detention slips signed.”

The group of boys groan in unison and you hear one swear under their breath. Oh shit, they’re in for it, now.

“Hey!” The pitch of his speech deepens, harsh and guttural, a threatening aura now looming in the air. “Let’s not make it two after school detentions in a row for insubordination.” The boys are now deathly silent. “I recommend y’all shut your traps and follow me. I’ll email your tutors and let them know why you’ll be late for registration. What a disappointin’ start to the year, boys…” The husky voice trails in the opposite direction, still berating and scolding the group.

You’re itching to text your friends about the clash that just went down, but just as you’re about to hit send, the bell rings for morning registration. Shit. You tuck your phone away and hustle towards your form classroom, hoping to avoid a late mark.

9:03am

Your form group was small, fewer than 15. A few of them were familiar faces from your early years in primary school, while most were friends you had made during your time at the local high school. There were also a few new acquaintances from other schools in the area, including Chelsea, notably absent from your registration period this morning.

Despite only meeting her last year when you joined the college, she’d quickly become one of your closest friends. She was in your History and English Lit/Lang classes so you often spent time together, as well as studying and revising at each others’ houses, and over time your friendship blossomed. The first year of your A-Level courses were a journey for you both: you laughed together, cried together, comforted each other through the meltdowns triggered by the towering workload and disheartening feedback on essays you’d slaved over.

This morning’s registration period is extended by 20 minutes, seeing as it’s the first day back and there’s a lot to catch up on; new schedules to coordinate and potentially revise in the case of any timetable clashes. This was to be followed by a ‘Welcome Back’ assembly held in the main hall of the sixth form college, that you don’t doubt will be boring as hell.

Your head is buried in your new school planner, setting it up for the upcoming year, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you are greeted by the beaming face of Chelsea.

“Chelsea! Hey!” you say, surprised but happy to see her. “Dude, you are so late.” You stand to pull her into a tight squeeze of a hug.

“Babe, I know —my car was being a bitch this morning, took forever to start,” she exhales, exasperated. She breaks the embrace, drops her backpack on the floor and sits at the desk next to you.

“Shows you for driving an absolute shitbox,” you tease, attempting to lean back into the rigid plastic seat.

“Hey, don’t talk about Gizmo like that, it’ll hurt his feelings.” Chelsea throws a mock frown at you. “Not like your hunk o’ junk is much better.”

“Guilty as charged,” you banter, arms up in mock surrender.

“ Anyway …Happy belated birthday!” she exclaims, pulling out a small, colourful badge from her bag. “I know I couldn't make it on Saturday, so I wanted to give you this now. You gotta wear it all day.”

You look at the badge; it is vibrant and cheerful decorated with hearts and stars, with a playful ‘Birthday Girl!’ written in glittery bubble letters. A mix of emotions washes over you. You are so pleased by the thoughtfulness of her gesture—Chelsea was always a giver—but a little embarrassed by the idea of wearing a badge in front of everyone on the first day back.

“Awh, Chelsea, you didn't have to…” you start, but she cuts you off.

“I know, I know, but I wanted to. You deserve a little extra celebration!” she grins, pinning the badge to your blazer proudly.

You feel a warmth spread through you. It is touching to know she had thought of you and made the effort despite missing the actual day. You glance around, noticing a few curious glances from your classmates. Embarrassment mingles with gratitude, and you smile at her warmly.

“Thanks, Chels," you say sincerely. “This means a lot.”

Chelsea flashes a wink. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

With that, you begin recalling the details of the altercation you overheard between the boys and the new staff member. You provide a concise rundown, explaining how the boys suddenly started harassing you, describing how this new, mysterious person defended you after you had presumably left. Chelsea is as astonished as you are to hear the entire story.

“Wait, you have no idea who it was? And he was American ?” Chelsea raises an eyebrow, then narrows her eyes, probing you further for details.

“Southern? I dunno. And, nope, sorry, no idea, hon,” you shrug, “I didn’t think to get a look at him. Didn’t want to get caught eavesdropping, y’know.”

Chelsea ponders, drawing out her words. “Hmm, interesting...”

“Do you know of any new teachers taking over this year?”

“Not a Scooby-Doo clue, mate,” her shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. She pauses a moment, lightly tapping the desk with her fingertips and pursing her lips. “ So … Did he sound hot?”

“Chels! You can’t say that!” You gasp, shocked at her question, hitting her arm playfully.

“Oh come on, I just wanna know the deets!”, she defends whilst punching you back in jest. “Did he sound old, young—you gotta give me something to work with?!”

“I dunno how to describe it, umm… he was…” you trail off, replaying the snippets of what you overheard like a movie.

The voice was a rich, gravelly drawl that sent shivers down your spine. His tone had a weathered maturity, a deep, husky resonance that carried the weight of experience. There was a touch of warmth, even when he was angry, like a low rumble of thunder on a hot summer night, both comforting and electrifying. It was the kind of voice that could soothe a troubled mind or set hearts racing with a whisper. The kind of voice that you were desperate to hear again, that sparked your curiosity.

“It was, like, deeper, husky— I don’t fucking know , Chels!”, you attempt to surmise before breaking out into a giggle and your cheeks warming into a blush.

“A-ha! So, he was hot! You jammy bitch.”

“We don’t even know what he looks like, so we can’t say for definite if he is or isn’t hot yet.”

“Well if he sounds fit, he probably will be.” There’s a proverb in there, somewhere, if you look hard enough.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”, you jest. Chelsea laughs and it’s infectious, both of you giggling at your wild hypotheses.

Your conversation is cut short when Mrs Marvelley calls for the class’ attention. She begins handing out your new timetables for the year, and you grab yours from her eagerly, hoping that it’s not terrible.

“These are your timetables for this year. I’ll give you a few minutes to check them over. If there’s no issues, head up to the main hall for assembly. If there are issues, you need to go down to the admin office and speak to Mr Jones. I repeat, you need to see Mr Jones.” She spots a hand raised amongst the group. “And, no , Dan, he won’t change it so you get Fridays off, no matter how much you beg and bribe him.” A few quiet snickers ripple across the class.

Looking at the timetable, your eyes are drawn to a different set of initials where you expect to find AW, for Mr Walker, one of your lecturers who seemed as ancient as history itself.

HIST/A2

Rm. 93

A few of your other peers also spot the change too and break out into a slew of overlapping speculative discussions.

Is he dead? Wouldn’t surprise me—My sister heard he had to get a hip replacement, second one musta gave out finally—I guess Mr Walker ain’t walking anymore, hahaha, what? C’mon, it’s just a joke, Miss, be chill—Who’s JM? You reckon it’s a guy or a girl? I hope they’re nice, not like Mr Hall. He’s a dick—Can’t believe they haven’t sacked him yet.

“You good? Everything okay?” Chelsea asks, standing to collect her belongings.

“Yeah, no issues here.” You follow suit, packing your bag to leave. “‘Cept Mr Hall is still teaching History.”

“ Ugh , tell me about it. Let’s hope this fresh meat isn’t as much of a twat as he is.”

“That’s wishful thinking, Chels, but I got my fingers crossed. Anyway, time for us to be bored out of our minds for an hour. Let’s go.”

10:28am

As you’d predicted, the Welcome Back assembly dragged on for what seemed like millennia. You’d been sitting there that long that your ass had gone numb. Led by the assistant headteacher Mr Faulkner, it was the usual presentation, welcoming everyone back after the summer, a few announcement of extra-curricular activities commencing this week, with some interesting musical performances from the Music students and a refresh of the colleges’ rules, expectations and consequences:

Try your best.

You are a representative of the College, in and out. Conduct yourselves in a manner that does not put the institution into disrepute.

You are in your last year now, make it count.

Surely, this all could have been in an email . It was basically the same trifle they spouted last year.

Before you feel yourself fall asleep out of boredom, the last announcement catches your attention, and urges you and Chelsea to sit up in your seats.

“Before we end our assembly today and let you go to break, I have one last announcement—an introduction, actually,” Mr Faulkner announces, wrinkled hands clasped tightly together. Microphone feedback echoes awkwardly through the speakers.

Shallow murmurs ripple across the hall. In sync, you and Chelsea flash each other a knowing look. This could be the end to the mystery that plagued you both all morning.

“As you may be aware, we had to bid farewell to our longest serving member of teaching staff, Mr Walker. Over summer, he underwent some surgery and he felt that it was in his best interest to retire after an illustrious 45 year career in teaching. He sends his best wishes for your year ahead and apologises for not being able to do so in person. We thank him for his many years at this College and wish him a speedy recovery.”

Chelsea leans to you. “ Jesus Christ, he doesn’t half go on, does he? Just get to the fucking point, man, ” she whispers before Mrs Marvelley quietly shushes her and raises a hand in a silent apology. You chuckle under your breath, silently agreeing with your friend. A shiver of excitement races down your spine, making your fingers tingle, a slow and steady anticipation building within you.

“I’d like to formally introduce you all to our newest member of staff to join our College. He is a former lecturer from across the pond and we are so grateful to have him join our department of Humanities and Social Studies. So please give a warm welcome to the stage, Mr Joel Miller.” A lulled applause breaks out across the hall. Mr Faulkner takes a step back from the mic and your eyes scan towards the front, looking for this ambiguous Mr Miller to join the stage.

And that’s when you spot him. Probably one of the most attractive people you’ve ever laid eyes on. The kind of person that makes your breath hitch, cheeks hot and heart skip a beat. You’re silently praying to a higher power he has an American accent as he climbs the few steps up to the stage.

Time feels like molasses as your eyes drink him in. His hair is a rich brown and pairs deliciously with his eyes, falling across his head in tousled waves. The boyish curls, a little dishevelled, frame his face perfectly and suggest a softness that beckons you to touch them. Though sparse in places along his strong jawline, the uneven growth of his facial hair adds an irresistibly raw, untamed allure, hinting at a blend of tenderness and roughness that you find insatiable. A textured beige blazer drapes over his broad shoulders, accentuating and hugging his physique with each movement. Underneath, you could see a burnt orange button-up shirt, which complements the warmth of his skin. An undone top button reveals a slight glimpse of his chest, firing your desire to see more .

Lost in him, your mind wanders as you envisage how his salt-and-pepper scruff would feel against the soft skin of your cheeks, peppering wet, sweet kisses trailing down your neck and body, and before arriving at the delicate creases of your thighs. Sweat drips down your back as your tummy flutters and tightens, and you cross your legs to seek any sort of purchase to relieve the building pressure in your core, a wetness beginning to pool in your underwear, cheeks blushing at the sight of him. Almost immediately you decide that you want him to absolutely ruin you.

A familiar voice drawls across the hall’s speakers, snapping you back to reality. You glance around to see if anyone noticed your reaction. Thankfully everyone is facing the front, focusing on the assembly.

“Uh, hi folks, thanks for having me,” Mr Miller utters into the microphone, a soft nervous smile blooming across his face. Bingo. Mystery solved at last.

You whack Chelsea in the side in an effort to get her attention and she whips her head round. It's him, you mouth silently, that’s the guy.

“No, shit. I told you he was gonna be fit.”

Saying he was fit felt like an understatement. He was immaculate, a commanding masculine energy radiating from him. To you, he's a masterpiece that's rough around the edges, sultry perfection with a touch of brooding reality.

“I ain’t one for public speaking so I appreciate y’all being so kind in welcoming me here today. And thank you to Mr Faulkner for that, uh, introduction,” he says, a soft chortle escaping his mouth. “I’m honoured to be joining such a prestigious department and hopefully live up to Mr Walker’s legacy. No pressure, amirite?”

He chuckles again, joined by a comforting wave of murmured chuckles from students around you. You’re transfixed, hanging onto every word he says.

“In all seriousness, ‘m looking forward to settling in, getting to teach history, doing what I love — thank you,” he finishes, punctuating the sentence with a slight nod. Taking a step back from the mic to allow Mr Faulkner to finally wrap up the assembly, you choose to ignore the assistant head and pour your focus entirely into Mr Miller.

Head tilting like a curious puppy, you pay close attention as he slides his glasses up his aquiline nose with his middle finger and runs his large hand through his hair, touseling his curls. You begin to fiddle with your delicate chain necklace, fingertips barely grazing the sensitive skin of your neck as a warm giddiness prevails over you causing your cheeks to burn harder. Jesus fucking Christ, he’s perfect.

“What? ” Chelsea whispers, poking her finger into your side. “ What did you say? ”

“Huh?” you murmur. Confused at first before awareness sets in, your eyes widen like a deer in headlights, realising what you’d whispered aloud. You’re about to respond and promise to tell her at break, when Mrs Marvelley's sharp whisper cuts through the air, causing you and Chelsea to freeze in your seats like statues.

“Girls ! That’s enough.” Arms crossed tightly across her body, she leans in to avoid drawing attention to herself as she delivers a quiet but harsh scolding. “Stay here at the end of assembly. You have detention for constant whispering. Now, be quiet . So incredibly rude,” she hisses.

Avoiding Mrs Marvelley’s scathing eye contact, both you and Chelsea offer mumbled apologies, a mix of sorry Miss and won’t do it again . For fuck’s sake. Detention was the last thing you needed on your first day back.You’re kicking yourself for sitting at the end of the row instead of the middle, where you would have quietly gossiped without getting caught usually. At least it was only technically 50% your fault with Chelsea involved, when you thought about it. You pray she didn’t overhear you gushing over the new teacher—the thought itself makes you feel nauseous.

The assembly rolls to a close at long last, and students and staff begin to file out of the main hall. In the hustle and bustle, you lose sight of Mr Miller and a feeling of longing waves over you as if you miss him already like a pathetic puppy. Meanwhile, you and Chelsea remain seated, bracing yourselves a stern lecture from your form tutor. You exchange glances every now and again, struggling to stifle your laughter despite your present situation. It’s always funny how being forbidden to speak makes everything seem so much more amusing.

11:07am

Mrs Marvelley escorts you back to her classroom at breaktime and delivers a scorned lecture as she logs the detention on her prehistoric computer, almost punching the keys of the keyboard. The computer was probably as old as you, if not older.

“Girls, I cannot believe that you were being so rude, whispering constantly like that. Every single time I looked over, you were just talking . You’re meant to be the good girls in my form class — really let me down today. Imagine what impression that makes on Mr Faulkner or even Mr Miller who’s new to this college, the pair of you gossiping like that.”

Neither you or Chelsea interrupt her, knowing better to just accept the scolding than to argue back. Admittedly, she’s laying it on a bit thick, it wasn’t like you’d committed any serious infractions or catcalled and harrassed another pupil like some people you know. It was just gossiping. All the same, you feel a pang of embarrassment in the pit of your stomach.

Mrs Marvelley twists her thin wrist to check the time on her watch.

“Alright ladies, you’ve got 10 minutes left of your detention but I need to pop out to speak to someone next door. It'll be a few minutes. Can I trust you both to stay here until I get back?”

You and Chelsea nod without saying anything. Mrs Marvelley leaves without a word and you’re both left to your own devices.

You fidget with a loose piece of thread on the hem of your skirt, running it through and round your fingers before pulling at it to snap it off. Readjusting in your seat, you let out a lengthy sigh. The previous arousal in your underwear feels a little uncomfortable now, both literally and figuratively. It’s not even lesson 3 yet and it’s been a helluva day , you muse.

“Mr Miller got you all worked up, eh?” Chelsea teases, nudging her leg into yours. It was like she read you like an open book.

“Don’t you start,” you warn, rolling your eyes, your slight irritation palpable in the sideways look. But she was right. You’d barely laid eyes on him all of 5 minutes and he was already driving you crazy. “Was it obvious?”, you ask quietly, bracing yourself for the worst possible answer that your new crush on Mr Miller was clear as day.

Chelsea’s familiar hearty laugh echoes through the room. “Only because I know you so well by now. Oh, and the fact you admitted that he was, what was it? ‘So fucking perfect’ ?” She teases, her fingers waggle in the air, forming imaginary quotation marks as she quotes you.

You groan with embarrassment. “I can’t believe I said that, I’m such a dick .” You groan again, louder this time, flopping into a pathetic lump on the desk, head buried into your arms. If the ground beneath you could split open and swallow you whole, you’d welcome it with open arms. You would prefer it actually than being stuck in college for the rest of the day.

Chelsea rubs your back, her hands radiating a warm heat as she circles your upper back, maintaining a consistent pressure. Usually when she rubs your back like this, you’re throwing up into a toilet the morning after a heavy night of binge drinking in a random field somewhere—the session hidden from your parents obviously—but it’s still comforting all the same.

“You’re alright, mate, honestly.” She insists, hands moving down to give attention to your lower back. “Nobody heard ‘cept for me. Hell, I barely heard you, but I got the message.”

Peeking out of the lump, revealing your flushed face, your eyes meet Chelsea’s. You pout at your pitiful demeanour.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

There is one last thing you need to do to feel fully assured of yourself. You offer Chelsea your little finger. “Pinky swear?”

She locks her petite finger with yours and offers a tender smile, gently nodding. “Pinky swear.”

2:04pm

The rest of the day passed without any further mishaps. You had double Spanish followed by independent study and lunch before your last period - History with the enigmatic Mr Miller. Lining up in the corridor, it feels stuffy even when you remove your thick blazer and loosen your tie. The rhythmic tapping of your fingers against your thigh does little to settle the butterflies in your tummy. You’d made a tactical judgement by standing towards the end of the line; you were waiting for Chelsea and you didn’t want to seem too keen. The shrill ring of the bell pierced through the rustle and bustle of the corridor, both clouding your mind so much you barely take notice when the rest of the line heads into the class. Mr Miller is standing at the door welcoming your class in.

His eyes lock with yours and your heart does a flip. As you make your way into class his lips curve into a soft smile, inviting and warm, and you feel like the air’s been punched out of your gut. Shit. You return with a weak smile and enter the room before you pass out.

Usually decorated with replicas of historical artefacts, boxes of old dusty textbooks and old wall displays of work from students who’d long left the college, the classroom was bare, empty like a blank canvas. The desks had been rearranged from rows of tables into groups, allowing for four people to sit. You decide to take a seat towards the front, near to where you sat last year with Chelsea. She trails in not long after you and smiles with a ‘hiya’ under her breath.

“Well, this is different.” She says scanning the classroom, unpacking her bag before sitting in the seat adjacent to you. “Least it’s not as dusty with Walker’s junk everywhere.”

“His stuff wasn’t that bad. It was just too much of it.” You follow Chelsea’s lead and get your equipment out for the lesson. As you’re getting your notebook out, your elbow nudges your pencil case and its contents spill on the floor.

“Fuck’s sake ,” you whisper under breath. Flustered, you’re about to get out of your chair when you feel a shadow over you.

“S’alright, I got it.”

Mr Miller looms over you before getting down to grab the contents of your pencil case from the floor in one swift motion. Since this morning he’s removed his blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. The sight of his forearms, tanned, strong and just so masculine , makes your heart flutter, a quiet thrill running through you at the thought of those arms wrapped around you, entangled together.

“There you go, darlin’.” He says, holding them out to you, a soft laugh reveals his smile lines. “Saved you gettin’ up.” Taking the handful of pens out of his hand, you swear you feel electricity in the split second his hand gazes against yours.

“Thanks, sir,” you manage to say without squeaking too much.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” His velvety words dance across his tongue and you almost want to believe that he’s being this hot on purpose to torture you personally.

Returning to his teacher desk he settles in the leather office chair and begins logging in and setting up his teaching resources. He completes the attendance register with no hitches; apart from the way he says your name has your head spinning. Satisfied that he can start the lesson, he rises from the table and stands near the board, ready to present, clicker in hand.

“Alrigh’ folks, welcome to final year History, you’ve made it this far.” He leans casually against the wall in the space between his desk and the board before continuing.

“I’ll be level with you. It's period five on your first day back. It’s my first day. Your lil’ brains are probably information overloaded right now bouncing ‘round your heads.” He pauses and run his hand through his curly hair which is a lot more dishevelled compared to this morning. “I’ve had to meet almost too many people to meet within a day.”

He sounds gruff, like he’s worn his voice out from lecturing all day.

“Bet some of y’all are wondering how you’re still upright after the day you’ve had. Hell, I'm wondering how I’m still standing.” He chuckles, a rich, deep sound that seems to vibrate through you. A few from your class join in with a soft laugh. His irreverent humour puts your mind at ease and you appreciate his honesty.

“‘Won’t overload you with too many of the scary details of what’s going to happen this year but we’ll do an overview. That sounds good to y’all?” The class and you let out a mumble of agreement. “Let’s jump in then; this is your intro’ to The American Dream: reality and illusion, from 1945 to 2003.”

For the next half an hour, he shares an outline of what this year’s course will entail in terms of assessment: formative essays every few weeks to check your progress with course content, a historical enquiry assignment due in April, followed by your final exams in June. He goes on to describe some of the key events you'll study this year with confidence: the Cold War, the Civil Rights movement, the rise of popular culture and media, Watergate, the war on drugs, 9/11, and the U.S. invasion of Iraq. It’s quietly ironic that the college has asked him to teach on this module, and you wonder what Mr Miller’s perspective could offer when teaching some of the topics that he’s probably lived through himself.

The broad scope of subjects felt overwhelming looking at them in one go, yet it was the challenge you craved. History as a subject was one of your passions, even when it pushed your limits. A poor grade on a painstakingly crafted essay would upset you, but it didn't dissuade you either; it ignited a fierce resolve to prove yourself. Your old teacher Mr Walker was always so supportive of your interest in his subject, keen to hear your opinions and debate with you. His feedback on your essays was always fair, highlighting both the strengths and drawbacks in your analyses and opinions:

I like the way you’ve considered this, it enriches your main, overall argument. However, in paragraph 7, it feels a little weak and undersupported. Next time, you should consider looking at these sources I’ve suggested and how they may alter your argument. Good work on the whole — Grade: 20/25.

It was a shame that your work wasn’t appreciated by your other History teacher. Mr Hall's biassed grading, favouring certain students with A’s while giving you C’s and D’s, felt unjust. And it wasn’t because you thought your work was better; you’d heard through the grapevine that this particular group would pay seedy websites to produce their essays in all their subjects, slap their own names on the work and submit them. Others complained to Mr Walker about it but it fell on deaf ears, and lacked concrete evidence to prove the plagiarism so the issue never went further, despite it appearing to be an open secret. However on results day, your quiet determination paid off. You revelled in the sweet victory of an A, while the boys, once so favoured, faced the sting of D’s, E’s and U’s. You wondered if you’d be believed now if you brought the issue up again.

Throughout the lesson you earnestly take notes whilst you listen to his lecture, to jot down the important information and to show him that you’re listening intently, aching for a crumb of approval from the new teacher. The way he speaks commands the room, drawing the attention of the whole class, oozing a confidence that only comes with experience. Each word rolled out with a noticeable Texan accent, dripping with a natural, unforced charm.

The introductory lecture draws to a close, to your disappointment. You could listen to him talk for hours.

“I hope I ain’t completely frazzled your heads, anyone got any questions?” Mr Miller offers a slight smile as he scans the room, his brown eyes meeting yours. For a second you feel his gaze on you, praying he doesn’t see your cheeks starting to warm for what feels like the hundredth time, your uniform feeling unbearable against your skin. As luck would have it, the bell rings, saving you and the class begins to pack up their belongings.

“Oh—before you go, I have this handout you need.” He turns to collect the stack of papers from his desk. In the meanwhile, you put your blazer on and start to clear away your things at an unhurried pace, waiting for everyone else to clear the room before you ask Mr Miller about what happened this morning with the boys. Chelsea’s ready to go, looking at you expectantly.

“Chels, I’ll meet you outside. I wanna ask him something.” She nods in understanding and offers a knowing wink as she leaves.

The almost vacant classroom suddenly feels stuffy as if it will swallow you whole. Mr Miller has his back to you, shuffling and organising his already messy desk as you approach him.

“Umm, hi, Mr Miller…” you start, nibbling on your lip so hard you almost draw blood. You hear your blood pumping in your ears, heart pounding like a relentless drum.

“Oh, sorry darlin’ I didn’t realise you had a question,” he turns and sits, leaning back in his office chair, relaxed. “How can I help?” A dangerous question for your little wound up mind. I don’t know, maybe bend me over on that desk right there and fuck me so hard I forget my name?

“Uh, no, actually. It’s about something that happened this morning.” You say instead, taking a seat on the edge of the desk closest to his. Mr Miller’s expression changes, a mixture of concern and confusion, unsure of what you’re referring to. Thumbing the sleeve of your blazer, you begin to explain. “I think it was you I overheard dealing with a group of lads being a bit gross this morning…” you trail awkwardly, dropping his eye contact, hoping he catches on.

“Oh yeah, I remember now. What about it?”

“I just wanted to say thank you for sticking up for me, I—err—appreciate it.”

“ Oh… ” Realisation washes over him and he sits up in his chair. “Those boys were bothering you , huh? I’m sorry they were being like that. Ain’t right to talk to a lady like that,” he murmurs, his finger grazing against his bottom lip. The way he says it, dripping with charm, makes your heart swoon.

“You don’t need to apologise for them, they’re dickheads, anyway.” You offer a soft chuckle, feeling a little awkward about the situation.

“Dickheads they might be darlin’, but they needed to learn a lesson on how t’be respectful. Guess they don’t teach that over here.” He shrugs nonchalantly and a slim smile appears briefly on his lips.

Leaning forward in his chair he perches elbows on his knees, his large hands interlaced, he catches your eye and looks at you intently. “They bother you again, you tell me, alrigh’? I will deal with them.” He murmurs, voice deepening, eye contact unwavering. “I’m serious. Any word or comment, you come to me .”

Shit. I’ll come for you if you want. You swallow hard and you feel slick arousal begin to dampen your underwear again in response to his command.

“Yeah, ‘course. I’ll let you know,” you try your best to sound unaffected by his commanding allure.

“Not a problem, darlin’. Now, get outta here and enjoy the rest of the day.” His smile is like a gentle caress, as warm as his gaze. He rises from his chair to see you out. You hop off the desk, bag slung over your shoulder and walk over to the door.

“One last thing,” he stops just short of the door, his tall frame towering over you. You look up to him; you guess he’s shy of 6 foot. He holds the pink, sparkly ‘Birthday Girl’ badge from Chelsea, still attached to your blazer, like he was inspecting it.

Your mouth forms a small ‘o’ shape in realisation and you sigh softly, attempting to hide your embarrassed face before meeting his gaze. “It was my 18th on Sunday and my friend got me this because she missed it, and made me wear it all-day.” You let out a nervous laugh, realising how silly the situation was to explain aloud to your teacher.

A lingering smile tugs at his lips, his eyes flitting down and up your body. “Well,” he pauses, his voice dropping to a low murmur, his thumb brushing against the colourful badge before his hand grazes down your arm, sending a jolt through your body. “Happy birthday for Sunday, darlin’, I hope you got everything you wanted,” he coos.

You have to swallow hard to stop yourself from letting out a whimper in response, aching for him to touch elsewhere instead.

Your thoughts are spinning like a record of the things you can’t say right now; I want you for my birthday, that would be the best present. I want you to touch me, suck my tits, fuck me, make me cum before you ruin me. Make me feel like no one else has. I wanna make you feel so good, I wanna be good for you. I’ll be so good, I promise.

“T-Thanks,” you stutter, breath hitching. You excuse yourself before you let illicit thoughts pour out of you and make your way to the car park to meet Chelsea. Your head is spinning, replaying the interaction over and over; the sound of his gruff voice, the way he looked at you, his light touch over your blazer, the way he had you like putty in his hands. It drowns yet excites you, teetering on edge between being turned on and utterly overwhelmed, the cruel truth dawning on you.

You have a crush on your teacher and you’re probably—definitely—absolutely fucked.

Thank you for reading this to the end! If you enjoyed please extend a like or reblog (with a comment if you'd like, I love reading them <3) to support writers, it helps a ton!💞

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thegallavault · 1 year

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hi pals! It’s me, bee 🐝, aka @gallawitchxx, aka gallawitch on AO3 & i’m a writer in the shameless fandom! i love me some ian & mickey, but i especially love supporting the incredible community of creators who have been making art for over a decade!

WELCOME TO THE GALLAVAULT —a fully fan-made, totally free collection of beloved Ian x Mickey fics in e-reader (.epub) format, complete with a custom cover that features fan art made by one of the many talented artists in the Gallavich fandom! 🔒📚✨

this means that you can download full fics to your e-reader of choice, and when added to your library, they’ll look like this:

pretty cool, right? 😏

- - - - - -

inside The Gallavault, you'll find:

an Intro & FAQ sheet with details on how to download the fics, find links back to the original works so that you can leave love there (hint hint, wink wink!), what fics will be included next & info on how to submit requests (pspsps: use this tumlr's ask box)!

a Library List of all of the currently included fics with links to them on AO3, links to the Cover Art posts for reblogging purposes, & additional art that's been made for each fic!

a folder of Multi-Chapter fics for download

a folder of One-Shots & Series fics for download

- - - - - -

please peruse what's there & if you have any additional questions, you can always send me an ask here!

i hope you enjoy & don't forget to leave the artists some love through kudos and comments on AO3, as well as likes & reblogs here on tumblr! xx

CREATOR DISCLAIMER: even though all of this work is public and free, i was initially reaching out to creators for permissions! but then tumblr decided i was a bot & i was shadowbanned 😔 so i am nervous to continue. if you are a creator and you do NOT want your work to be included -- that's ok! please reach out to me here on tumblr or at [email protected] and i will remove it from the vault, no questions asked!

authors ✍️ : @notherenewjersey @jackieq @damnnmilkovich @metalheadmickey @thisdivorce @thevioletjones @squidyyy23 @suzy-queued @whaticameherefor @peppermintkatie @goodkwuestion @ms-moonlight-inn @devovitsuasartes @dancermk @whatwouldmickeydo @celestialmickey @ianrightsonly @the-rat-wins @abundanceofnots @chat-noir12 @spoonfulstar @mzshko @gallawitchxx artists 🎨 : @steorie @doodlevich @darthvaders-wife @luluxa @filorux @heymrspatel @y0itsbri @auds-and-evens @deathclassic @loftec

#the gallavault #shameless #shameless fanfiction #shameless fan art #shameless fanart #gallavich #gallavich fanfiction #gallavich fanfic #gallavich fanart #gallavich fandom #ian x mickey #ian x mickey fanfic #ian x mickey fanart #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich

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gvfmarge · 8 months

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My first fic????!!! Who am I??

Jakey blurb:

I’m so so nervous to post this. I don’t have many followers and I haven’t really interacted with many of you. But I just had this idea in my head and I had to write it down, it’s super duper short. I’m not a writer by any means and I didn’t really edit this, so please be kind. 🥺

This is loosely based off of my experience with my 2 babies and our first days at home. (It’s really not as beautiful as this makes it out to be and the exhaustion is REAL- in case you don’t have kiddos)

This is probably a flop and I doubt anyone will actually read but here it is. Also, I’m on mobile so I hope this posts okay and is readable. Again, please be kind and I would always love some type of feedback or critiques!!

Trigger warnings: Newborns and exhaustion. Really nothing but pure sickening fluff.

Jake (husband/dad) x Reader

~~~

“Are you just soooo hungry, is my sweet girl just starving to death?” He hums to her as he zips up the lilac colored floral footie pajamas. As he scoops her up from the changing table, he turns to you with his toothy grin. “Momma’s right here baby.” He hushes her cries with his whispered promises. Jake slips Nora into your arms and gently sinks down into the bed beside you.

You’ve always loved Jake. You’ve loved him since the first time you met eyes. He takes up every ounce of your heart. But there is just something in the way he rocks your daughter, something in the way he sings to her, the way he looks at you while you’re holding her that makes you realize you never knew how much you actually loved him. You never believed your heart could hold any more love for this man, but watching him love the child you created with him has made you feel like the world has stopped for only you and your new family.

Today is your second full day of being home from the hospital after giving birth. It’s nothing like you imagined, it’s harder than you ever imagined but Jake has been nothing short of amazing. You have never felt more taken care of and cherished before.

“I can’t believe she’s actually real.” He says looking down at her in awe while she nurses. You can see the love in his eyes, you can feel it radiating off of him. It has enveloped your entire life now. Every inch of your house is full of love because of this new life you have brought into it.

“I know, I still feel like it’s all a dream actually.” You whisper back, leaning your head on his shoulder. “It felt like she would never be here and here she is.” He hums in response and turns his head to kiss your forehead. You both sit tangled together while you feed Nora until she finally falls asleep in your arms.

Jake eventually slides off the bed when he notices your eyes getting heavy. “Let me take her for a while baby, you need to nap.” He says stretching out his arms to lift her off of your chest. “Are you sure? I’m okay, I really don’t feel tired.” As you’re yawning, you realize just how exhausted you are. Jake has barely let you lift a finger since you’ve been home from the hospital. He’s changed almost every diaper, cooked every meal, woken up with Nora almost every hour at night to help you feed her. “Aren’t you tired too? You’ve done so much, lay down with me and we can cuddle while she naps.” You’re hoping he agrees, you really don’t want him to take her and you really don’t want him to leave either.

He places Nora in her bassinet beside the bed and places his hand on her chest and she settles back down into sleep. He slowly walks to turn off the lamps around the room and closes the curtains, stretching his arms above his head as he walks back to his side of the bed and almost crashes his body into the mattress. “I’m so glad you said that because I think I might die if I don’t sleep.” He says muffled into his pillow.

You giggle at his dramatics and curl into his side, pulling the blankets up over your shoulders. “I love you so much, Jake. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to show you just how much.”

“You already have baby, you’ve given me everything I could ever want and more. You’ve given me the perfect little family, that is all mine. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

As you both drift off into your nap, you both can’t help but smile through the exhaustion. Understanding now just how much this is all you’ve ever wanted.

#Greta van fleet #fanfic #gvf #jake kiszka x reader #fluff #Jake blurb #jake kiszka #jake kiszka blurb #jake kiszka fic #greta van fleet fic #gvf fic #jake fluff #jake kiszka fluff #my writing

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bwabys-scenarios · 8 months

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hii i really don’t mean this in a bad way! but i saw one of your posts taking about how you mostly write for chubby readers, and i really admire that. keep writing!

buutt, i just have a (not very) little question. one thing about me is that i really do not understand why people write for specially one type of person? like, i absolutely love the inclusivity and i love all your works, but why can’t everyone just write.. for y/n?? if that makes sense.

like, not describing the reader’s body, skin tone, or anything else like that. i’m not trying to tell you what to do or anything, but it’s just something i have been curious about for ages! and i’ve been too scared to ask on the notes because i don’t want anyone to think i’m being mean ( ´ ▽ ` )

basically, what i’m trying to ask is; is it bad that i would prefer if writers wrote for nobody in particular?

because i think that it’s so much easier, that way everybody can be happy without leaving one type of person out?

also, i understand if it’s for one type of oneshot/ story, though. like such as reader getting bullied, harassed, or whatever because of the trait you chose to write about.

and i also completely understand if you write for a specific type of person because that’s what you’re like, and i think that’s great!! i love when writers write y/n as themselves, because honestly me too. but for the people comfortable with that, do you think they should write as i suggested?

like, writing a y/n that’s just.. y/n. not described fully so you can imagine whatever you want for them.

i love your works, and really want you to keep writing!

so please tell me your thoughts on what i said! i am trying to learn how to understand people better, but if you want to ignore that’s totally fine! thank you for reading, i hope you have a wonderful day. <3

note: im sorry if this is a lot and confusing. i kinda just dumped everything i was thinking because i’ve never brought this up with anyone and got a bit nervous to ask this. sorry!

short answer: I write chubby readers because chubby readers deserve to see stories where their bodies are mentioned, celebrated, and loved. Writing for a completely neutral reader is not something I’m interested in, because I would not be able to relate to that at all.

Long answer: Fat people, like me, are often taken out of the experience of reading a reader insert fanfiction because the reader is described as thin WITHOUT any warning saying the fic would describe the body type. You can write your the reader to look however you look, but not tagging it/warning about it can surprise readers and put them off, especially when it happens so often for chubby readers. So I’m not against a reader being skinny, it would just be nice to have a warning or tag.

But anyways, making the reader completely neutral works sometimes, but a lot of the time people write/read chubby reader inserts to see their SPECIFIC body type loved and celebrated because often times it is not in regular reader inserts. People seek out chubby!reader inserts to see a reader being loved that has their body type, they aren’t looking for neutrality. They want a character that has the same struggles, insecurities, and life experiences that they can relate to. A chubby!reader accomplishes that.

I hope this answers your question! It’s okay to be curious and ask questions nicely, so don’t feel nervous :)

#x reader #requests open #anime x reader #reader insert #anime x chubby reader #chubby!reader #chubby reader

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yourlocalfriendlyhobbit · 10 months

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Requested by @pacoholin

<< Part 1 | Part 3 (not posted yet) >>

A/N:

y’all making me shy with your compliments oml... *monkey covering eyes emoji* no but seriously i didn’t expect so much love on part 1, thank you all so much!

I’m also sorry it’s taking so long for me to write anything, i had a writer block, and I am chronicallly ill, so sometimes that keeps me from doing anything, and life is just sh*t all together...

This is also so freaking long... so I will make a part 3~ my brain is just not braining anymore atm...

The tourney happened weeks ago, and life was back to normal in Camelot. Things don't usually stays calm for long in this city with the magic ban, but somehow no sorcerer decided to take advantage of the tourney and agitation to commit any crimes...

That didn’t mean Merlin had had any time to relax whatsoever; there’s never a calm moment with Arthur. Especially now that he has what he wanted to ‘blackmail’ Merlin all he wanted... During the whole week of the tourney, up until now, the moment you were present, Arthur would send teasing glances his way; elbow him lightly; or just straight up make a teasing comment that would make poor Merlin blush and leave you confused...

But truth be told, Arthur just wanted Merlin to snap and finally tell you how he feels, and he didn’t know how to help his friend other than pushing a little and hope for the better....

Of course, the knights learned about it too. And weren’t really any help, as they all had a different... approche when it came to romance...

Guinevere tried to help too. From giving him advices on what to do for you, what gifts he could give you, to just listening to him rant for hours about you... She wasn’t very close to you, but she knew, just by the look in Merlin’s eyes when he talked about you, that you were a caring person, and she just hoped you returned his feelings...

Merlin aknowledged their attempts at helping him, but he was too shy and nervous... He had magic... what if you were scared of him once he told you? what if you ratted him out then? He knew deep down that even if you were scared you wouldn’t do that, but there was still this little voice at the back of his head reminded him of it...

...

Merlin was doing his usual tasks, as Arthur was getting ready for bed. He noticed the young prince was very quiet this evening; which, considering we are talking about Arthur is really something abnormal. Merlin was considering breaking the silence but the prince did first:

“You are free tomorrow.”

Merlin turned to Arthur, quite shocked. He let out a nervous laugh.

“And who is the poor soul who would have to look after you then if I am not here?”

Arthur scoffed, and grabbed a pillow from his bed and threw it at Merlin, who easily dodged it.

“Now, that is none of your concern. Tomorrow, you will go to the kitchen and meet with Guinevere, she will hand you a basket, and you will go have a nice little picnic with (Y/n). And for the love of God, tell them how you feel!”

The poor boy looked at the Prince as if he had grown a second head. He fidgeted with the cloth he was holding.

“I... I have no idea what you mean by th-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Arthur grabbed another pillow from his bed and threw it with way more force than before. This time, it hit Merlin in the face.

“I want to help you, but I am getting quite frustrated with you. There is no denying how you feel about them because that is very obvious; from the lovesick look in your eyes to that dumb smile you have when they so much talk to you, you are just trying to find excuses.”

Arthur walked up to Merlin, and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Now, man up, and put everyone out of their misery... well, mostly you...”

With a finale pat on the shoulder, he turned around and went to lay down on his bed, while Merlin stayed where he was. He looked to the ground, not really looking at anything in particular, mulling over all that just happened. He then sighed and got back to work, before leaving to go to bed himself.

When he arrived in Gaius’ appartment, he didn’t say a word and went straight to his room.

...

The morning arrived faster than he wanted. Of course, spending the day with you was all i wanted for a long time now, but if he was to confess to you, he knew he needed to be sincere about who he really was. And that scared him so much. He could stand you not returning his feelings, but imagining you being scared of him was the worst that could happen.

He was pacing around the room, thinking of hundreds of ways to tell you everything he wanted, all the things that could go wrong, etc... Gaius was watching him from his chair, the parchement he was reading long forgotten. Obviously he knew what was making the boy so jumpy. Suddenly, Merlin took off without saying a word, barely closing the door behind him.

He ran throught the corridors, straight to the kitchens where Guinevere had probably been waiting for him for the past hour. He stumbled when he reached the door, out of breathe. Guinevere was sitting on a chair, sewing a piece of clothing. She looked up when she heard him.

“I’m so sorry I made you wait!”

She simply smiled and got up.

“It’s alright; I figured you would take some time to come.”

She went to the counter at the back of the kitchens and picked up a basket. She then walked to Merlin and gave it to him.

“(Y/n) is most likely near the training yard; there is no one there at this hour. Now hurry up.”

She smiled and pushed him lightly. Merlin laughed, a light blush dusting his cheeks. He took a few steps backwards, then started to walk at a fast pace towards the yard, a huge smile on his face. When he finally arrived at the training yard, he looked around to find you. As he walked across the field, he spotted you sitting in the shadows of one of the walls. He stopped where he was, in the middle of the yard, and stared at you. Completely entranced; as he usually was when he saw you: every background sounds vanished. You were just so perfect.

A loud crash coming from somewhere behind him managed to get him out of his trance. But it also caugh your attention. And as usual, when you looked at him, he suddenly became all awkward and shy. But unaware of the effect you had on Merlin, you waved at him with a bright smile.

With a tight lip awkward smile, he walked to you, clutching the handle of the basket like his life depended on it. When Merlin finally reached you, you had stood up.

“Hi Merlin, how are you today?”

You could see how nervous he was, shifting from one foot to the other, looking at the ground.

“Oh um, I’m- I’m doing good- I- umm...”

Merlin paused.

“You- You are free this afternoon?”

You looked at him, a bit surprised. Knowing he is Arthur’s servant, he didn’t really have any kind of free time.

“Well, yes. Why you ask?”

Merlin took a deep breathe, as if summoning all the courage he had in his body, and motionned to the basket he was holding tightly.

“I wanted to ask you if you would like to go picnic with me outside of Camelot’s walls?”

He was looking at you with the biggest puppy eyes you had ever seen, like he was begging you to say yes. If only he knew he didn’t need to do that for you to accept...

“Of course, I’d love that Merlin!”

You replied with a smile. Before he could say anything, you grabbed his free hand, and dragged him away from the castle. He nearly fell, but soon catched up with you.

Now, Merlin could only hope that you would return his feelings, but most importantly, that you would accept him, magic and all...

#bbc merlin #merlin #xreader #bbc merlin x reader #merlin x reader #colin morgan #colin morgan x reader

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choicesficwriterscreations · 1 year

Text

October 2023 WOTM: peonierose

Each month CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers, and this month’s writer of the month is @peonierose. We hope you will enjoy learning more about them and their work below! The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog: peonierose Blog Masterlist

How do you want to be known on Tumblr? Peonie or PR is fine 🥰

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played?

Way back when Choices first launched. My first book was The Freshman Series - book 1. It was so fun to play the books and get super excited for new chapters. I was waiting until midnight for new chapters. It was the first time I’ve played an app where I could make decisions and use diamonds for VIP scenes 😍

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I joined the Choices fandom back in 2021. I really missed Open Heart after book 3 ended (and left me wanting more) So I wanted to see if there were any more stories I could binge, and that’s how I stumbled upon Tumblr 🥰

3- How did you pick your blog name?

It may sound weird but it just came to me. Peonies are my favorite flowers. As soon as I thought peonie I quickly added rose and I was like that sounds so cool and it’s unique which I love 😍 And that’s how peonierose was born.

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!

Gosh. This feels like forever ago. When I first came on tumblr I didn’t post or reblog much 😅 (too shy to interact with anyone 🙈)

5- How long have you been writing fanfiction?

It has been 2 years in August this year since I’ve actively started writing fanfic 🥰 (I still can’t believe I actually made the leap and decided to post any of my stories).

6- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to write about?

You’re really going to make me choose? There are so many good ones 😱

I love to write for two of my favorite books which are Nightbound and Open Heart. Those are the ones I feel most connected to 🥰 Though I’d love to venture out and make edits or social media posts for other choices books too.

7- Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were writing it today?

I wrote Robin‘s Tell-All from TNA, and it was the first fic I’ve ever shared. I really wanted to write a story from Robin‘s POV and how all that happened in TNA affected him and all the mistakes he made.

I wanted to showcase his inner struggle.

I remember how nervous I was to post something that I’d written. I thought to myself, will people even like my story? And if they do like it, then what? It was a great rush to see the reblogs, and the love for my first-ever posted fic.

If I could change one thing, it would probably be the moodboard 😅

8- What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

That is a tough question, because to me every fic I‘ve written has a special place in my heart. So every story reflects the feelings I’ve felt while writing my story.

Buuuuut if I had to choose: It would be a tie between By a Landslide (Bryce and Luna), the 3rd chapter of my Nightbound series - Unexpected and Go with the Flow (Luna & Bryce)

9- Do you have a fic that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to be but found could use a little more love?

I actually didn’t think I’m a sucker for you, A Pinch of Pink and Blue…This one‘s for you, Cinnamon Sugar and Wildflower, to be as well received as they did.

However, I think Bittersweet Symphony and Losing Game (1 / 4) could use some more love.

Both stories are amazing and I think you’ll love both my pairings. Luna & Bryce and of course Maxine and Adam.

10- If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

I am by no means a smut writer 😅 Maybe I’ll get there 😅 But I’d go with a mix between angst and fluff. I think a nice balance between these two would be good.

11- Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

Yeah. Tons of times. Take Luna for example. She has anxiety like me, and her appearance, such as her blue-green eyes and dark blonde hair, are like mine. But character wise we’re complete opposites. I wish I’d be more artistic like her 🩷

And Bryce is an Aries like me, and so many things he says or does make me go back, and I’m like, yeah, I would say something like that. Other than that, I’ve learned to give my characters real flaws and make them human, if that makes sense. But it does happen that they end up with character traits that are mine, and then I lean back and realize I’ve given my characters some of my weird and quirky character traits 🤣

12- What element of writing do you struggle with most?

Damn. Umm…I struggle with a lot of things. Finding the right words sometimes because English isn’t my first, not even my second language. I speak six languages, so it's sometimes hard to find the words to describe things.

Showing, not telling that’s another thing I struggle with.

That and if I have to keep a deadline to post something 🤣 Because it takes me forever to post anything I’m not 100% behind and happy with.

13- Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

How much time you’ve got? I have over 30 wips, that want some desperate attention, and I always keep adding new wips, whenever something inspires me to write 😅

I’ve found some new inspo for Somewhere Only We Know 🥰 Apart from that I’d love to take another look at my two AU‘s Amber & my Nightbound series. So we’ll see what wips I can manage to finish 😅

14- If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first?

Sure. I’d love to get an outside opinion of my work and my characters that are so beloved and close to my heart 🩷

I actually tell people that I write fanfic and original work. And I’ve sent some samples their way and they liked it. Which makes me feel more confident in my writing (not saying it’s perfect, there’s always room for improvement, but it’s getting better).

As for which story to start? I’d say start with Only Love for Bryce and Luna. That was my first story of them and I consider it their start.

Then continue with Always & Forever and Go with the Flow.

Those were my first posted stories about Luna & Bryce and I think you’ll like them. It would give you a good understanding of my storytelling and my characters.

15 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing?

There are a couple of authors I admire - Chloe Neil, Elise Kova, Nalini Singh, Rachel Caine (R.I.), Rebecca Yarros, and many more. They have influenced and shaped my writing, my fantasy world-building, and, of course building my characters. These authors know how to tell great stories, which makes me admire them so much.

As for fanfic writers who’ve inspired me? I’d love to give a special shoutout to one of my closest friends who’s been my beta reader for almost anything @annieruok She’s an amazing person and writer. Thanks so much for all the times listening to my ramblings about scenes and characters 🩷

16- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series?

My Nightbound series hands down. That is a story that really deserves to be on the big screen or as a Netflix show. I’m not picky.

I’d love to see Grey, Gretel and Hänsel kick some ass. It’s a unique enough story to garner some attention 🥰 I’ve worked really hard to write it and it took me a year to come up with chapters, character names and so forth.

Also Somewhere Only We Know would be cool to see on the big screen. I’d probably weep from joy if any of my stories were ever developed as a movie or series 🥰🥹

17- Do you write original fiction?

Yes, I actually do. I have several original works in my Google docs. And just recently, I had an idea for another original story (I don’t feel comfortable sharing it yet) 🥰 But let’s just say it’s fun to come up with the characters and world-building and everything in between.

18 - What other hobbies do you have?

Reading books, trying out new recipes in the kitchen. This also reminds me I need to exercise more 🤣

Taking walks & going shopping.

Hanging out with friends and binge watching shows and movies on Disney+ and Netflix. Just trying to enjoy every single moment that every day has to offer 🩷

19 - What’s your favorite emoji?

It’s a toss between these three 🥰😍🩷 (What can I say I love pink 🩷 not just because of the new Barbie movie and the pinkmania 🩷)

20: BONUS - tell us anything you’d like (if you want to).

First, I wanted to say thank you to everyone. For being picked as writer of the month is a huge honor 🥰 Thank you to everyone who has ever taken the time to read my stories, reblog them, and leave some unbelievably nice words.

I’m very grateful that you guys took the time to shower me with love. Sometimes, I wonder what I did to deserve some of your nice words and love. I also wanted to give a special shoutout to some of the people who are very dear to me. 🩷

Thank you guys for supporting me. Being there for me - through great and not so great times - I‘ll never be able repay your kindness 🩷 You guys make me strive to be a better version of myself and I couldn’t be more happy to call you my friends 🩷

@annieru0k @cariantha @txem @doriopenheart @mysticalgalaxy @aallotarenunelma @inlocusmads @heavenssexiestangel @socalwriterbee @secretaryunpaid @ofmischiefandmedicine @starrystarrytrouble @the-pale-goddess @takemyopenheart @quixoticdreamer16 @princess-geek @eleanorbloom

#choices fic writers creations #cfwc writer of the month #playchoices #choices the stories you play #writer of the month #peonierose #october 2023 #choices fanfic #playchoices fanfic

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hbosucc · 10 months

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Greg Hirsch x Reader: Chapter 3

A little shorty chapter today! I probably won't post a chapter a day forever, so enjoy while it lasts lol. Eventually I will run out of chapters.

Link to previous chapter

This chapter is also fairly tame. Swearing, dubious morals, discussion of ATN news. Smut starts in the next chapter after this one (chapter 4).

Thank you to anyone reading!! <3 I think all that any writer can hope for is someone, even one person, reading their work and enjoying it. So I hope you enjoy xoxoxo mwah

Chapter 3: Confrontation

“You work for fucking ATN?” I hissed over my coffee mug. We were at my favorite café near the school on my lunch break. Greg had a rare day off, so he’d been able to meet me last minute, though he hadn’t known I was going to confront him about his job.

“I—I can explain,” His eyes grew wide.

“Yeah, you’d better be able to explain that, Greg,” I said, folding my arms. “God, I finally find a guy I actually like, and he works for the fucking devil. When were you going to tell me about this? Were you waiting for me to sleep with you first, or something?”

“No, no,” He sighed, putting his face in his hands for a moment before looking back up at me. “My family owns ATN. Well, my cousins and uncle do. Remember how I told you I was really broke? This job was my last resort, believe me, but I, like, really needed it. I was literally living in a men’s shelter when I started there.”

“Fuck,” I said under my breath, taking a sip of my latte. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I mean, first of all, it’s an embarrassing place to work, obviously,” He said, and I nodded. “Also, I just…I think…I mean, it’s not like I’m super rich or anything, but I think…in the past, some girls have maybe gone out with me, just because I’m technically part of the Roy family, so they expect that I will be. Rich, I mean, which I’m not.

“And—and I thought you seemed really cool, and I wanted to get to know you without all of that…stuff in the way, at first.”

I let his words sink in. He had lied by omission, yes, but I understood his reasoning.

“It’s bad, I know.” He looked at me pleadingly. “I’m so, so sorry I didn’t tell you right away.”

“You should be.”

“I am!” Greg sighed. I had to look away, because the puppy dog eyes were coming out, whether he realized it or not. “For the record, I wasn’t trying to wait until after I—we—you know. Slept together? I was just nervous to tell you. I really, really am sorry.”

“Could you quit?” I cocked an eyebrow. “The job, I mean.”

“I mean—I could, in theory, but that would, um…” He trailed off, trying very hard to come up with an answer. Finally, I took pity on him.

“It’s okay, Greg,” I sighed, locking eyes with him. “I wouldn’t expect you to quit your job, where you’re making God-knows how much money, for someone you’ve been on two dates with. I know that wouldn’t be fair of me.”

“Okay, thank you, that’s cool, because I really…I don’t have a lot of, like, life skills, you know? And if I quit, I don’t know if—I mean, they might be so pissed about it, they might not give me a recommendation so I could get a new job, or anything.”

“I know. I’m not totally unreasonable, you know.” I cupped my hands around my mug. It was warmer inside the café than out, but I still felt cold. “You have to do what you have to do, I get it. As long as this isn’t, like, your dream job, and you love working there, or anything.”

“No, it’s nothing like that, not at all.” He shook his head vehemently. “I even asked if I could get switched out of ATN to one of the other divisions, but my boss got, like, really mad about it, and I had to stay.”

“God, that sucks.” I blew out a puff of air. “So, what’s it like being Satan’s nephew?”

“Well, to be fair, I didn’t really know him until pretty recently, so…it’s not like we’re close, or anything.” He played with the handle of his mug, and I noticed he’d barely drank any of his coffee.

“This is so wild. I can’t believe it.” I shook my head at him, but let my lips form into a smile. I felt I’d probably given him a hard enough time.

“Yeah, it’s pretty crazy,” He laughed, like he couldn’t believe it either.

“Well,” I checked my phone. “I need to head back to campus, my break’s almost over.”

“Oh, for sure.” We both stood and bundled back up, then headed out into the cold once more.

“Thanks for coming to meet me. I know it was a bit of a drive for you, just to come get yelled at.” I bumped my shoulder into his—well, it was closer to his elbow, truthfully—as we walked down the salted sidewalk.

“Hey, no worries. I should’ve told you sooner, I just…” He cleared his throat. “I like you, I guess? I mean, not I guess, I know, but I just…”

“Do you want to come over to my place sometime this weekend?” I asked, once it was clear he was having trouble getting his words out.

“Really?” He raised his eyebrows, stopping for a second to look down at me.

“Yeah. I could make us dinner, we could watch a movie, you know.” I shrugged. “If you want.”

“That—that would be really cool. Yeah, I’d be, um, very down.” He said, a smile spreading across his face.

“Cool. Text and let me know which day works better for you.” I stood up on my toes and gave him a quick peck, pulling back to look at him.

“I will…I will do that.” He gave me two thumbs up and I couldn’t help letting out a laugh.

“Okay. See you, Greg.” I crunched over the sidewalk to my car, stopping to give him a wave before sliding behind the wheel. Well, fuck. It looked like I’d be hitting the grocery store after work and coming up with a good recipe to make, all for some ATN asshole—though, to be honest, he wasn’t really an asshole. As much as I wanted to stick to my principles, I couldn’t help myself. I liked him, and I wanted to see more of him.

#hbo succession #succession #succession fanfic #succession imagine #greg hirsch x reader #gregory hirsch #greg hirsch #x reader #succession x reader

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summercourtship · 4 months

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RE: the post you made about the difficulty of writing smut (i tried to reply but tumblr is weird on my phone)

As a human who’s read smut across fandoms for like 25 years (and who pretty much had her sexual awakening within Jonathan Crane fanfiction), I love the way you write smut.

“Good” smut is so much more than describing the act a certain way, with certain phrases. It’s everything ‘around’ the smut — the setting, the scenario, the tension, the dialogue, the characterization. You absolutely kill in these areas, and when you write sex, you do it with the same skill. There’s no perceptible dip in capability because it’s YOUR writing within YOUR story. It’s hot.

The best smut story is the story you want to read ALL of instead of skipping to the sex scenes because the characters are written so deliciously. Yours lands in that category for me. Figures that it’s all about ‘foreplay’ and the act is just a cherry on top lol

You write Jonathan’s ominous silence, Edward’s unhinged vulnerability, Batman’s grim curiosity, and Bruce’s awkward warmth so fucking well. I enjoyed the sex scenes with Edward even though I’m a Jonathan girl because I could see Edward and understand him and the tension of the whole situation. ✨That is good smut because it transcends bias. ✨

Of course, please pursue your smut writing goals, but I just wanted to say you’re doing great.

;-; thank you for the kind words. Ever since I started writing smut, I've been very nervous that any sex scene I write is bad purely because sex scenes are probably the thing that people make fun of the most in writing. Like, you never see people ragging on poorly written action scenes but you do see a lot of people making fun of smut scenes in books and fanfic. Granted, a lot of that is definitely rooted in misogyny (given that the audience for romance novels and fanfiction is predominantly female) but that doesn't mean I don't want to be one of the writers being made fun of.

Anyway.

I feel like it's pretty obvious that I enjoy the build-up significantly more than the act itself just on how I write it. And that, to me, is more important than the actual smut, to be quite honest.

I am hoping for the sequel fics to have more sex in them (even though Jonathan already has so many sex scenes but eh. I don't think any of you will complain) but we will see because I often say that I'll write a more smut-focused fic and then I get distracted by complicated plots.

<33333

#ask #stbotdi #treelampsworld #love the descriptions of the characters as well

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seijorhi · 1 year

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Hey, god it’s me again. 😔 LOL

I think that at this point of my life your beautiful and flawless fic ‘means to an end’ has physical intertwined with me. It is a part of my mind, soul, and body. 😩 Everything about it is chefs kiss.

I wish I could just kiss that beautiful big brain of yours for coming up with such delicious ideas. The way it’s on my mind daily since the moment I read it is SICKENING (in a good way obvi 😏).

I will go through my day and out of nowhere something will remind me of it and along will come a question. You did this to me Rhi 🫵.

NOW I know you’re very busy with getting your new fic ready (absolutely excited btw, I love Gojo and knowing your beautiful mind , anything you write will be to die for!!!!) but I wanted to ask a couple questions (I know, shocker right?). Since I know you’re busy, don’t feel obligated to answer these questions. In fact, I’ll be very happy if you even reply with a heart. (I simply just wanted to let you know deeply I appreciate/admire your work.)

But here are my troublesome questions:

- Did the guys on their volleyball team know about their obsession with the reader?

- I know you mentioned Atsumu having girlfriends through highschool but did that apply to Osamu too? (Especially since he liked the reader first?)

- This is sort of like my first question but did the girlfriends know as well? And if they did, did they feel any jealousy? (Jealousy from their boyfriend giving his attention to someone else.)

- Since there was a long period of time of not seeing the reader, did they have hopes of seeing her again? (before Atsumu found ame)

- While in that period of time did the twins still date around?

That’s all but please if you have anything else to add , it’s definitely welcomed. 🫶 (also I’m sorry if these questions sound silly or stupid but they’ve been taking up my mind for awhile and I’m sorry to everyone for constantly bringing up ‘means to an end’ but that fic has a strong grip on me yall. Like I’m down bad on my knees for this version/fic of the Miya twins 😔.)

OFF TOPIC: I’ve been trying very hard to be more active with my favorite writers to show love and support but still find the idea to be very scary. I still get nervous sending in messages or asks but I’m trying to take baby steps. I also want to gain the confidence of not having to press the anonymous button because I want you to know who I am but as a second baby step , I will now be signing my post with my nickname since I want you to (sort of) know who I am ☺️ (and not just some crazed fan lol.)

-🌬️🌫️ katia

(I keep on forgetting which emojis I used on the previous questions I sent but I hope I got it right this time 🥲)

(Edit: you’ll probably see the same message again but that’s because I’m sending it to you again because I forgot to mention this in the pervious one 😰.

You’ve inspired me to start taking a more darker route in my writing. I began writing maybe a month ago and it’s a romance novel. (So far I’ve got two chapters 🫠).

But these past couple days I’ve been REALL REALLY wanting to write more darker content (like the kind you write, you’ve inspired me a great deal with your writing technique).

But the problem is I don’t know how to write yandere/horror/gore. So I was wondering if it wasn’t to much of a bother, if you could give me some tips or advice. (Im very new to writing and I have my struggles but I want to branch out to more darker themes, like you and fairy.) Still learning the ropes but I hope with your guidance, I’ll get there 🫡. )

hello my love!

okay so first of all if ur gonna keep being so cute and complimentary i will melt into a soft gooey puddle and be of no use to anybody so be warned.

as for your questions:

i would say that most people who spent a decent amount of time around the twins, i.e. their teammates and classmates, would have at least an inkling about their interest in bullying her. the miyas are many things, subtle isn't one of them. having said that, i think out of everyone, suna was probably the only one who saw it for what it was

hookups yes, 'girlfriends' no

again, anyone who spent a significant amount of time around the twins was bound to eventually put two and two together. which isn't to say that they were all blind going in – some undoubtedly thought they could snag his attention once they were officially dating, only to find themselves bitterly disappointed

they 100% both kept tabs on the reader, it was more a case of biding their time and waiting for the right moment

yes. not serious, long term relationships (aside from ame) as neither one of them would be capable of faking it for more than a few months but relationships all the same

advice wise, i dug up this old post which hopefully will be at least a little helpful??

beyond that, all i can really say is that for me, good yandere/horror fics balance emotion with tension, and the build up of both. the characterisation is also really important – what makes you love to loathe them, or alternatively, not see them coming until it's entirely too late. nothing bores me more in a yan fic than when the writer hasn't bothered to give their yan a personality beyond a cookie cutter obsession.

but congrats on getting started with writing! i'm proud of you bby <33

#i was literally in the process of typing up a response to the first one when i got the second ghvfjdksjnhfjdks #rhi answers #fic asks #means to an end

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the-heartlines · 1 year

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RE: Plagiarism

This post was the only way I knew how to approach this subject in the best way I could to clear my name. I feel as though if I stay silent I’m complicit, but this entire post is the utmost truth I can offer and I hope you’ll choose to believe me.

First off, I won’t be mentioning the author, and this will not contain screenshots.

I have been extremely nervous as of late…my stomach in literal knots, and have had anxiety attacks due to this. I deactivated twitter, again.

And I’m most of all, very disheartened and upset.

I’m being accused of purposefully plagiarizing fics and deliberately doing so. Also, of “mimicking an author’s voice”—which I’m still not entirely sure what it means, per say?

There was one instance, that was brought to my attention last month by said author, in my jacegan drabble (that was written back in February which is now deleted since pointed out to me) where, yes, I did unknowingly draw quite a bit of inspiration from her fic and used the ‘your grace, my jace’ line, with a similar scene, but I didn’t do that with evil intentions or even mean to do so. (I literally wrote that fic on the werdsmith app on my phone while making/eating breakfast one morning.)

A snippet I had posted in June of my migwen fic om twt was another one this author had issue with…saying I had used similar wording in this specific chapter. I had read this fic up to this exact chapter back in April and couldn’t even recall it…but finally did reread it, twice, and found zero similarities between this specific chapter and my migwen drabble. (this chap had a literal blowjob scene, which my migwen didn’t even have in it)

As far as ‘mimicking this person’s voice’ in all my works? I have plenty of moots who read my fics—and this author’s—say they can’t see what this person means by it, and that we have very different tones/voices. I found this accusation particularly pretentious (and did express it to the author). It confuses me and upsets me…and truly, it still does.

And, of course, yes, I've drawn inspiration from fellow creators. We all have. We’re all continuing to inspire each other during the hotd hiatus…whether that be through tweeting, discords, dms, random thoughts…I cannot tell you how many countless times I’ve come across exact hive-minds with fellow creators where we have the exact same thoughts for different AUs or fic ideas. like it’s literally crazy. We also love to connect our other favorite films, etc to the current OTPs we have.

I am someone who has been in fandom for many years. I have friends in different fandoms from 14 years ago, that I am still moots with. I’m an honest and genuine person—albeit a little weird and freaky. But what you see is what you get with me.

I’m the kinky buffering hornball gemini.

Even though I just started publishing fic back in December for the first time, I have read smutty explicit fics since I was in highschool.

I myself am also a very sexual person, so I tap into that when writing my ‘ungodly smut’ as someone put it, recently.

I DO NOT have fics open that I am copying and literally pasting from and onto my word doc. I do not literally “lift lines” from any of my fellow writers, for any of my fics.

There is absolutely no way I can plagiarize 4-8K of fic. This is what baffles me the most.

The thing is, my writing has improved in the last six months because I AM writing and using that creative part of my brain that I’ve tapped into.

I am not dishonestly stealing other people’s hard written fanfics.

Why would I do that? After MONTHS of befriending others in the hotd fandom and discords? If I wanted to gain “clout” or “importance” in this fandom, purposefully plagiarizing or stealing from others IS NOT the way to do so.

(I would know this, because I have been soft blocked or blocked by many over the last month. And it has fucking sucked.)

I'm a person who continually has supported my fellow moots by reading and commenting on most of their fics. I would even do reaction threads for certain author’s fics, would post screenshots of favorite parts, and post them to tweet in a thread freaking out about how much I loved them—which I now feel like anyone who thinks this, thinks I’m going to use and copy their words, which I have not and will not ever do, intentionally.

I truly apologize if you’re someone who thinks I am “maliciously” plagiarizing your work, but I can promise you I am not and never have meant to do so, purposefully.

I appreciate if you took the time to read this…I don’t know if anyone believes me, but this has been a heavy fucking burden weighing me down and making me want to delete my entire online existence. And I had to get this off my chest. Thank you again for reading.

#personal

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tooweirdforyou · 8 months

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Will u not come back? :((((

hello, anon! hope you’re doing well and apologies for the late response. I hope you see this! ❤️

so, I guess this will be my answer and also my first post in about a year or so.. Im not gonna make any excuses or whatever, and cut straight to the point.

Bit of a long post but it will explain most things without being too personal just because it’s been a long time and part of me feels as though I lost that respect and privilege of being comfortable and being myself around you guys. Anyone and everyone who stayed or is a newcomer to my account.

It’s the new year. Here’s how I’ll answer you.

Do I wish to come back? Yes.

Have I been actively attempting to come back? Yes and no. I have been attempting to work on chapters for my Quotev books, but lots of writers block and just pure unmotivated to continue with where I am. Knowing it can be better if I were to redo it, continue with force or if I simply make a new book, (( which due to my imagination and inspiration by things I’ve come across, I keep wanting to start new books. ))

Have things drastically changed for me as I’ve been away? Yeah, kinda. I mean, things are getting a little more difficult for me, I won’t go into too much detail but it’s been really difficult for me personally the last several months. I’ve never been consistent in my feelings and almost always ended up more numb, empty and sad. And some days it would be so bad that I couldn’t be alone and had to be in a room with another person I knew. I’m really working on it but it really isn’t something that just goes away, as most of may or may not understand.

Am I still dating? Yes! I’m still very happy with the guy I’ve known and started dating last year and in fact, we’ll be hitting our two years very soon. I know this may be personal but I kinda just wanted an excuse to talk about him, haha.

Now, am I still writing? / interested in writing? Definitely. I just have huge motivation problems but I definitely still love that creative form of expressing your imagination into words and making a story. The problem is that I have all these ideas and it just sucks to have to do all this beginning stuff instead of making the reader or OC in love with the person already!! 😂 but yes. I honestly do love to write still and my boyfriend tries to encourage and supports me but it’s really my own fault.

do I still Roleplay? I remember mentioning this and then making an separate acc for this but never really interacted with it often because at the time I was busy. And now, I don’t anymore because it makes my boyfriend jealous, haha. I do miss it though :)

Do I still go on tumblr? Every once in a while, which is like every two weeks or so? Or just under two weeks or sometimes longer. It depends. But yes, I do check and I do love to read every new comment and message I get, I just don’t respond to it because I’m honestly a little scared.

Will I come back? I want to. I really do. But there’s a few factors that come into play-

- so much time has passed that I worry I no longer have like a mutual bond with you all and that it’s too late for me to come back and just pretend like everything is fine. It’s not. I’m worried it’s too late to just start writing again, I guess I’m nervous? I missed being able to be comfortable and be myself on here but I don’t know. I think my time has passed.

- not only that, I don’t quite know how to use tumblr anymore.

- I can’t stick to one fandom, just like my mood swings, my current obsession changes so often that I’m worried I won’t be able to keep up with certain works or keep everyone happy with my work.

- I don’t know if I should continue mt old works ( ones on Quotev )?

Start new ones?

Go back to scenarios and oneshots like I used to?

Refresh on tumblr and continue here again?

Move to AO3?

It’s the new year and I do want to better myself and change and I really hope that that means I can start over with myself and my writings once again.

I missed all my comments and messages and having mutuals and interacting with everyone. It makes me feel connected and honestly little less lonely when my boyfriend has his long busy hours..

But to finally answer properly. Yes, I want to come back but I honestly don’t know where to start or if I can.

I’ll be checking tumblr so if anyone has any questions, comments or suggestions or whatever you wish to tell me, I will be here. Maybe by next month I’ll have an answer of what I’ll be doing in regards to writing. Whether I take any advice from you guys or make my own decision.

im very deeply sorry for my absence. I hope this answers everyone’s thoughts.

sending lots of love. ❤️ thank you to everyone.

#tooweirdforyou

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hushroomloser · 1 year

Text

Chris Evans short story part 7

Pairing: ReaderxChrisEvans

Request: Meeeee

Prompt: “I’m sorry I thought you were somebody else”

Warning(s): I’m a first-time writer

Word count: 1171

A/N: Hey online strangers, I wrote the first part a while back and have the rest of the story in my drive but have never posted it. This story I wrote way back in 2019 :'(. I will be posting at random times if you stay and read it thank you so much. Enjoy xoxox - I have no idea how many parts this story and technically I haven’t an ending yet.

I honestly to god have no more inspiration so this story will just be here for another 3 more years.

Here I am, whoever is reading this thank you. Because honestly I have reread the other parts and the amount of errors would make my high school english teacher blush.

Anyways as always enjoy and please if you have any criticisms bad or good I am all ears.

Kiss from someone who should be writing her thesis right now.

Bye

… I am back lol. I have no idea who even is enjoying this but yeah. I wrote this during finals so please excuse everything from it. From the grammar to the plot lol. I shall maybe edit it or something. Honestly didn’t this story needed more parts or anything and plus I am trying my hardest to make into a your name type without writing yourr name cause I never found it cute and plus whenever I read a yn i read out the yn has like yoon for some reason. So yeah

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“For me?”

Lowering his gaze, the whole ordeal made him realize that he was not as confident as he initially thought this morning, in front of his mirror, he had prepared such a speech that still made him blush now. And yet, he couldn’t say anything but mumble, “These are for you, to thank you. Yes, to thank you for bringing me here to see a doctor.”

“Uhm, thanks but it was my fault in the first place.” She giggled and took the flowers. “They smell nice.” Not knowing what to say, they each stayed quiet.

That silence between them did not feel awkward or anything, it felt good. They each look into each other's eyes knowing how they felt but unable to word it. How could they? They both felt like they were going after someone out of their league. A superstar and a doctor. Their attraction seemed eternal, their need for each seemed as if it could never be burned out. They wanted each other. How could they say; Hey this may be weird but I think I love you. I do not know you but you would fit in my life so perfectly. You would be so right, so perfect and so everything that words could not describe it. How do they tell each other that they mean everything? So, they didn’t say anything, they kept looking at each other. Hoping that the other could feel it.That they could feel their wants and needs for oneself.

“Code Blue, in room 305, code blue in 305”. They both shook their heads and broke their gazes away.

“I guess you have to go”, Chris said, a little bit sad that she had to leave.

“I don’t deal with codes”, looking at him, she wondered if he could sense the need. He should ask her out. Seriously! Maybe she should woman up and ask him herself. She’s an independent woman, it is not that hard. Just say the words. Would you like to go for coffee? See it is easy. Easy in her head, but in rel life, no. It would take so much courage to ask him. But she has to, if she did not he might not come back? He might just leave her, and she did not want that.

So she took all the courage she had, all the courage she had saved up all those years, even after entering her field. A field that was very much dominated by men. A field that made her rethink a lot of the way she acted, the way she would dress and even speak.

And she asked him, a bit nervous,

“If you aren't busy, in like 15 min or so would you want of course and if you have the time to grab coffee that is if you are free and available but if you aren’t I would totally understand. You are a busy man. Asking you to coffee would properly mess up your schedule. And all plus you are filming a movie right. I guess you do not have the time. Yeah, it is fine you should not come.” She had managed to say all of that without losing her breath.

Chris was smiling through it all, he though she’s cute when she’s shy. Acting like it didn’t matter. It surprised him at how well he could read her, especially the lack of knowing much about her. Seeing that she did want to see him agin he did wait much, honestly he was about to ask her out too but she beat him to it.

“I would love to have coffee with you.”God that smile could cure all the sick she thought.

“I will wait for you at the entrance is that okay.”

She couldn’t say anything after that monologue, not only was she out of it but she had just realized what she did. She asked him out.

Him.

God please if you are here and listening do not make me awkward, which had been a horrible start. Please make this elegant independent woman. Please make me gorgeous in every way possible, make me eloquent. PLEASSEEE MAKE ME PERFECT, she pleaded.

She could just otter yeas sure awesome before he left to wait for her. It had taken her a solid 5 minutes to realize what had happened. Another 5 to manage to look presentable and the last five to be convinced by Lizzy, which managed to be at your office and force you to tell her about what happened. She was ecstatic, the understatement of the year. She was what we would say out of this world with joy. God, she was giggling and murmuring about whatever future she had imagined. You didn’t even register half of it and for the other half, you had been rolling your eyes stating that it was just coffee.

You always had makeup in your work bag and an extra outfit in your locker in case you had to present something or if you had arrived in scrubs at the hospital. Always be prepared you remembered your mother telling you. Your mom has been the most influential part of your life, from the clothes you wore to what you studied at school. Men come and go but a degree is here to stay, she said. Not only did she make you study hard in school but always be dressed the way you wanted the way that made you feel extra amazing which happened to be wearing skirts or dressed and heels for everything and when I mean everything I mean even on a lazy day going out for groceries. If they had made running shoes that were also heels you would be the first and probably the only on to wear.

Dressing up and doing makeup and all that extra girly stuff, as your dad would say, did not take away from your achievement nor what you strived in life. You liked to look good getting those diplomas and all.

“I think I will wear this.” It was a long pink dress jacket you had been saving in your work closet inside your office in case of emergencies. And this was the upmost emergency of all. Chris had shown up on one of those days that looking cute was the last thing on your mind. Sleep was and always has been your true love and on that day, you needed an extra hour.

“It is perfect.” Lizzy smiled at the way you had semi-transformed yourself. “Like a medical legally blond without the blond part.” she giggled at your joke that was not as funny as she may have thought.

“How does my makeup look, and everything. What about my hair? Maybe I should cancel and say I had an emergency to attend to.”

“Stop. Breath. You look perfect.”Lizzy shook you into a reality that had been hard to accept. Beauty. Was I pretty? The question that is worth a thousand no a million dollars, honestly even a billion dollars.

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I did not know how to end it so lol this is part 7 please enjoy and also constructive criticism is as always very much appreciated.

Thank you

xoxox

#my wriring #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #creative writing #writing #fanfic #chris evans #short story #fanfiction

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mischievousmoony · 2 months

Note

i have a question!! what would you recommend to a new writer to the marauders fandom? what would you recommend for them to do? i’ve been trying to put work out again but im a little nervous about it! and your work is amazing and i was wondering if you had any tips!! thank you :) and have an amazing day <3

hi love! thank you so much <3 idk how qualified i am to be giving advice but ill give it a shot

so i get nervous every time i post too! i second guess my writing abilities, worrying ppl will think my storylines are convoluted or my writing isn’t that great (i mean my applicable writing experience is a high school creative writing course that i took like 7 years ago lmao)

for me, the best thing to do is just ignore those thoughts and post anyway. a, bc i put in the work and wanna share the fruits of my labor. and b, no one really cares im sure. i’m writing x reader on tumblr no one is expecting a nyt best seller right? (literally thats what ive been telling myself to make me feel better)

so as long as you have fun and you like what you write, then post it! plus i swear if you enjoy writing a piece, it makes your writing better, and ppl will see that and they'll like it too!! but it's not all about reactions and notes either, write for yourself before anyone else!

idk if this answers all of your questions pls lmk if there's anything else i can do for you love, my asks are always open!! i hope you have a lovely day/night!!

#asks!

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spnhunter4life · 2 years

Text

So Long

Summary: Jenna and Dean have known each other since she was 9 and he was 11. Their fathers often hunted together, so they grew up in next door motel rooms, keeping each other company and watching out for Sammy. They were inseparable until their dads inevitably fought and stopped working together. Shortly after Sam left for college, her father had been killed on a hunt and his dad had been more and more distant, so they started hunting together. In a world where everyone has a tattoo of their soulmate’s name that appears somewhere on them on their 16th birthday, it took them a ridiculous amount of time to figure things out.

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: I’ve always really loved the soulmate cliché, so I decided to write one of my own. As I was figuring out the basics of what I wanted to do, Niall Horan’s song So Long came on my playlist. It’s a beautiful song and I realized how well it fit the story I was trying to come up with, so this is based off of it.

A/N 2: So I just jumped back on the Supernatural bandwagon. While I was never truly off the wagon per se, it was more of a background appreciation for it while I was interested in other things. But I finally convinced myself to finish season 15 and now I'm all in again.

I remembered this fic I started like four years ago. I never posted it because it wasn't finished. It's still not, but I went back and reread what I have so far, and I'm actually super happy with it. So, that being said, I'm going to admit that I'm a super inconsistent writer. I might be super motivated to write for a few days (which I definitely am right now) and then not write again for a year. That's half the reason I never posted it. The other half is because, while I don't actually write things down often, I make stories in my head constantly and I've realized that I often go back and change details to fit the new direction I've decided to go in. And so I didn't want to post this until I was all done in case I wanted to make changes. But I decided I can edit and let people know things changed if it comes to that. I'm hoping if I can get some people to see this and get a little feedback, it will keep me motivated to write. All feedback is appreciated! Tell me what you liked. Tell me what could improve. Let me know if you find any grammar errors or inconsistencies. As long as it’s said nicely, I’m glad for absolutely any comments you might have.

My plan is to update weekly to give myself time to get the next chapters done. The second chapter is currently done/super close to done. Not sure if I want to add more to it or move it to another chapter. I’ve got a decent start on chapter 3 also. With the outline I have currently, this story is set to be 8 chapters. That could easily change though.

Also, shoutout to @jerkbitchidjitassbutt. You probably don’t even remember, but you read this chapter over for me way back when I first wrote it, so thanks for the support you gave me then!

Sorry for the super long note, and thanks for reading this far if you did!

Series Masterlist

Looking back through changes Where we started from Don’t know about you but I Knew it wasn’t wrong

Ages 16 and 17 June 25, 1996

I woke up, not exactly expecting to feel different, but maybe hoping. Today I would find out who my soulmate was. At least, I’d get a first name. Even though I knew it was stupid to get my hopes up, I couldn’t help but secretly want it to be Dean’s name. I was also nervous. Did I really want to know? If it wasn’t Dean, how would I deal with the disappointment? But if it was Dean, how could I possibly approach a subject like that? And even then, it wouldn’t mean it was Dean Winchester I was meant to be with. There were other Deans in the world. And wouldn’t he have said something by now if my name was tattooed on him somewhere?

Taking a deep breath, I looked over all of the skin currently exposed by my pajamas. Nothing on my arms or legs from the knees down. I looked at the clock and saw that it was already 9:30. I couldn’t believe I’d slept that long, that my dad had let me!

I jumped out of bed, grabbing my towel and clothes for the day, heading straight for the shower. I’d made one friend in this small Louisiana town, a very outgoing girl I’d bumped into while getting groceries with Sam and Dean. She’d been excited to meet someone new, saying all of her friends were on vacation for the summer, and she and I were supposed to meet up soon to spend the day together.

I started the shower to let the temperature adjust and then started the process of removing my clothes, checking each inch of revealed skin for a name. Nothing yet, then. Supposedly, the name showed up around the time of day you were born. I had no idea what time that was, so I would let Alyssa distract me for the day and check again tonight.

When I came out of the bathroom wearing shorts and a t-shirt with my hair in a ponytail to combat some of the summer heat, my dad was just closing the door, chocolate chip muffins, my favorite breakfast food, in his hand.

“Happy birthday,” he smiled. “How does it feel to be sixteen?” He asked this question every year, but this was the big year, and it held a little more weight behind it. “It feels… pretty much the same as every other year I guess.” I told him honestly. Other than my nerves being slightly on edge with the upcoming soulmate reveal, it felt like any other day. “What are you still doing here? I thought you and John would’ve left by now.”

“That was the original plan, but I couldn’t leave without seeing my daughter on her birthday. I wanted to have the chance to eat breakfast together. The case can wait a couple hours.” He told me, sitting down at the table.

“Where are those two shadows of yours?” He teased as I took a seat across from him and grabbed a muffin. I knew he wouldn’t ask about my tattoo. He didn’t like people prying into his life and he didn’t pry into mine. He knew I’d tell him if I wanted to.

“I have no idea,” I replied as I peeled the wrapper off my muffin. “I haven’t seen either of them, but I just got up. Thanks for letting me sleep in by the way.”

“I figured one day can’t hurt. But don’t think you can go slacking off. It’s back to morning runs and training after this.” He said before taking a bite of his own muffin. “I still don’t understand why those boys aren’t here. You three make such a big deal out of each other’s birthdays, I half expected them to break down the door.” He mused.

“Maybe they forgot. And we don’t make ‘such a big deal.’ One present and a movie night isn’t too much to ask. Besides, it’s mostly Sam. Dean always made a big deal about his birthdays growing up and so Sam learned to do the same for us.” I told him.

“Yeah but a bunch of kids scrounging up enough money to get those presents for each other is a big deal.” He said with a fond smile. Taking the last bite of his muffin, he stood and grabbed something off of the counter. “Speaking of presents,” he said as he handed it to me.

“Dad, you didn’t have to.” I told him as I grabbed it.

“I know I didn’t, but it’s not every day your baby girl turns sixteen. It’s not much, but I thought you would enjoy it.” He replied a little awkwardly.

I grinned and wrapped my arms around him, Backstreet Boys CD clutched in my hand. I had found them on accident really. It was all Alyssa’s fault. I generally enjoyed the same music as Dean, but she had showed me one of their songs and I couldn’t get it out of my head. Dad had heard me humming it one day which led to an embarrassing confession.

“Don’t tell Dean.” I pleaded, knowing the endless teasing and likely judgment I would be on the receiving end of if he found out. “Oh, I wouldn’t dare.” Dad laughed, pulling away from the hug.

“I should probably go find him though,” I said, glancing at the clock. “I’m supposed to meet Alyssa soon and he said he’d drive me.”

“Have fun!” I heard him shout as I left our motel room. I saw the Impala parked by the room next door, so I knew he was here at least. Since Dean has legally been able to drive, John gave it to Dean and the two of them take either my dad’s truck or the one John had purchased after gifting Dean the Impala. As I raised my hand to knock, the door flew open.

“Oh!” John said, startled. “I was just going to tell your dad we need to get going. I’m glad you’re up.” Then he was in the motel room I’d just abandoned, not waiting for my response.

“Hi to you to.” I mumbled under my breath. I walked through the door John had left open to see Dean sprawled out on the couch. He turned to me when I closed the door and grinned.

“Hey, there’s the birthday girl!” He exclaimed, prompting Sam to run out of the bathroom, dressed and looking fresh from the shower, toothbrush in his mouth.

“Jenna! You’re here! I wanted to go to your room a while ago, but Dean told me to let you sleep. Were you sleeping?” Before I could answer him, he rushed on. “He told me you’re going to spend the day with your friend, but we’re still going to have our movie night, right? We have to have our movie night. It’s our tradition!”

“Breathe, Sam.” I chuckled. “Of course we’re having movie night. It wouldn’t be a birthday without it. Now how about you go finish brushing your teeth before you start drooling on the floor.” Content with my answer, he hurried back to the bathroom, hand cupped under his chin where toothpaste bubbles were trying to drip down.

“So,” Dean drawled, getting up off the couch. “The big 16. How’s it feel?” He walked over to stand next to me and, not for the first time, I was struck with how effortlessly gorgeous he was. His hair was tousled and still slightly damp from the shower he must have taken this morning. He wore his usual jeans, t-shirt, flannel, and boots, the amulet Sam had given him hanging around his neck, but somehow, he was the most attractive guy I had ever seen. I knew it wasn’t a biased opinion, every girl in every school always drooled after him.

“I assume it feels the same as you felt a year ago.” I replied once my brain started functioning again. “You still good to take me to meet Alyssa?” I asked.

“Sweetheart, have I ever bailed on you?” He asked, mock offended.

“Well…” I trailed off, remembering the handful of times Sam and I had been left to fend for ourselves while he was off with a girl. When I saw him looking at me expectantly, I sighed. “Not when it really counted, no.” I relented.

“Did you ask her yet?” Sam questioned, reappearing from the bathroom and heading for Dean. Dean sighed and looked at me. “Is it ok with you if Sam comes with to drop you off? I don’t know why he’s even asking. I know you don’t care, but he wouldn’t leave me alone about it this morning.”

“That’s not true!” Sam denied. “He told me I could come if you said yes, and I know you usually don’t care, but since you’re 16 today I thought you might want to talk.” He stated matter-of-factly.

“Talk about what?” I asked, brow wrinkled in confusion. There’s not much Dean and I didn’t talk about in front of the kid. I don’t know why he thought there was suddenly a need for privacy or what being 16 had to do with it. “About-” he started, but then cut himself off, looking anxious. “I don’t know.” He continued, head down and shuffling his feet. “Just… being 16?”

I looked to Dean, hoping for some kind of explanation, but he just shrugged his shoulders, although he seemed a little annoyed, like he knew more than he was letting on. I wasn’t in the mood to press the issue though.

“Ok…. Well I don’t have any super-secret conversations that need to be had with your brother, so if you want to come along, that’s fine.” I assured Sam.

“Good! When are we leaving?” He asked excitedly.

“If Dean’s ready, then right now would be good.” I replied, looking to Dean. He answered by shrugging on his leather jacket, plucking the keys off the table and holding the door open for me.

With everyone piled in the car, Dean started toward the mall where I was supposed to meet Alyssa. It was a typical car ride, Sam chattering away in the back, and Dean humming along to Led Zeppelin. I told Dean where to park. Alyssa wasn’t there yet, but I was content to sit and wait with the boys.

“I thought we might have to wait until tonight to give this to you, but I’m glad we don’t have to.” Sam said excitedly, pulling a box out of his jacket pocket. “It was my idea to get this kind of present for you, but Dean helped me pick it out.” He looked to his brother with a proud smile before handing the box to me.

I was a little nervous to open it. Sam was so excited, I didn’t want to disappoint him if I didn’t like it. Although he’d never say anything, I could tell Dean was a little nervous too by the way he tensed his shoulders and bit his lip. I carefully opened the box and gasped.

Inside was a bracelet made from ribbons of silk. It was twisted around so that it looked like four different strands. The top and bottom of each ribbon was an olive green while the middle was mulberry. One of the ribbons wrapped through a gold button that was used to adjust the size. I couldn’t believe something so beautiful was for me.

“I love it!” I told them as I took it out of the box to place on my left wrist. I noticed Dean’s quiet, relieved exhale and turned to hug him. “Thank you.” I whispered. He wrapped his arms around me before mumbling a quiet “You’re welcome,” into my hair.

“And thank you too!” I said, pulling away from Dean to face a fidgety, giddy looking Sam in the back. He flung his upper body over the seat to get a hug of his own. “You’re gonna have a pretty hard time topping this one.” I informed him as I sat back. Sam just grinned.

“My friend at the last school had a bracelet that she wore all the time and I asked her if that was a good idea for a 16th birthday present for you,” he explained. “She said if you like jewelry it was a good idea, and I know you like Dean's amulet, so I told him about my idea and he said we’d keep an eye out for anything you might like. There was a lot of stuff I thought you would like, but Dean kept saying they weren’t right.” I glanced at Dean and saw a slight blush gracing his freckled cheeks.

“He liked that one as soon as he saw it. I didn’t know why you’d like it any better than any of the ones I pointed out, but I know you guys know each other really well so I just told him to make sure you knew getting a bracelet was my idea.” He finished, slightly out of breath.

Before I could say anything to assure Sam I appreciated his efforts and relieve Dean of his embarrassment, there was a knock on my window. Startled, I jumped a little before facing the window where Alyssa stood waiting. Turning to look at the boys, I thanked them again for the amazing present and then opened the door to get out of the car and say hi to her. As I was closing the door, I heard Dean say my name.

“Just a second.” I said to Alyssa before opening the door again and sticking my head in. “What’s up?” I asked.

“I was just wondering when and where I should be picking you up.” He replied. “Oh, right. I didn’t even think about that.” I said, turning to Alyssa to figure out the details. “Cleary.” He teased. I looked back at him, sarcastic comment at the ready, but I saw the twinkle in his eye and knew he was just joking. I shushed him and closed the door, turning to once again face Alyssa.

“I can drive you back, it’s no problem.” She assured me.

“Are you sure? Dean doesn’t have anything else he needs to be doing, and I know he likes to do it anyway. He’s a bit protective like that. The first time he dropped Sam off at a friend’s I thought he was going to sit outside the house the whole time.” I told her, smiling at the memory.

“It’s really no problem. I don’t have any definite plans for the day so I wouldn’t know what to tell him anyway.” She said.

“Ok…” I trailed off, giving her one last chance to change her mind. She gave me a look, clearly stating that she wouldn’t so I passed the information on to Dean.

“You don’t even have a guess about when you’ll be done?” He asked. I knew he liked to have a timeline so if someone wasn’t back when they were expected he would know something was wrong. If he didn’t have any schedule to follow, he’d spend the whole time worrying, unsure if something had happened or we just weren’t done yet.

“Well I have to be back in time for movie night,” I reminded him with a wink in Sam’s direction, “so I won’t be gone any later than… say 8:30? That should give us time to watch a couple of movies before Sam passes out.”

“Yeah, ok.” Dean relented, slightly less on edge now that he had a set time. “Have fun.” He smiled. I closed the door and watched them drive off.

“Are you ready to do some shopping?” Alyssa asked with a grin.

~~~~~

“You have to have a swimsuit!” Alyssa insisted as we walked by racks of them at Kohl’s. “Not if you never go swimming, you don’t.” I countered.

“But what if you do go swimming? What are you going to wear then?” She argued. “I don’t know. I’m sure if the opportunity came up, I’d just go buy one.” I told her. “Then why not buy one now?” She asked.

“Because,” I sighed. “We move around a lot. We’re not exactly hitting up five-star hotels with pools or renting homes that have one. I think the last time I went swimming was when I was 12 and the house we were renting had a pond.”

“Ok, well I have a pool, it’s the middle of summer in Louisiana, and I might invite you over to swim sometime. Besides, I’m buying so you can’t really argue that much.” She said, flipping her strawberry blonde hair as she turned and pulled me towards the swimwear.

“That’s a nice bracelet,” she commented, looking at my wrist where I was half-heartedly searching through a rack of one-piece swimsuits. “Yeah,” I smiled. “Sam and Dean gave it to me for my birthday.”

“It’s pretty. I didn’t think boys were any good at finding decent jewelry.” She remarked as she moved on to the next rack. She didn’t like the one-pieces anyway and had only been humoring me, ironic since I was only humoring her about the swimsuits in general.

“I swear Dean has some sort of sixth sense for what people will like. Well,” I corrected, “not people. But me and Sam.”

“This one! You have to try this one!” Alyssa said excitedly, breaking me out of my thoughts. I looked to where she was holding a white and blue two-piece. “I know you didn’t want a two-piece, but this isn’t a bikini. It doesn’t show much more than a one-piece would.” Seeing my hesitation, she continued. “Just try it on. If you hate it, we’ll put it back.”

“Yes!” She cheered, seeing my resignation. She handed the suit to me and led the way to the changing rooms.

It was definitely a nice-looking suit, I’d give her that much. The top piece was thick enough all the way through that there was no danger of anything showing. It had a clasp in the back and three strings to tie around my neck, two white and one robin’s egg blue. The bottom piece started like a normal bikini bottom, but thicker. Above the hips it cut in to cover only the front of my torso, leaving my back and sides exposed, and went up to the bottom of my ribs. There were three strings encircling my back, keeping the material up. It was decorated with flowers in shades of blue, and as much as I liked it – although I’d never admit it to Alyssa – I didn’t think I would be comfortable wearing it in public.

“Are you ready yet?” I heard her ask through the door.

“Kind of. I have it on, but I don’t know if I want to come out.” I admitted.

“Come on, you can’t look that bad.” She encouraged.

“It’s not that.” I told her. “I’m just not comfortable showing this much skin. I live in jeans, you know. The only reason I’m wearing shorts is because I might actually die from this heat.”

“Just come out. No one’s going to see you. I promise there’s no one else around.” She encouraged.

I sighed before opening the door and peering my head around. I was met with an unimpressed look. “Alright, I’m coming.” I relented. I stepped out of the changing stall and was greeted with a wolf whistle from Alyssa. “Cut it out!” I blushed.

“Why? You look great!” she exclaimed. “As much as I like that bracelet, it really doesn’t match the-” she cut off.

“What?” I asked nervously?

“Umm… did you find your tattoo yet?”

I was a little shocked. It was an awfully personal question to be asking someone you’d only known for a couple of weeks. “No. Why?” I asked a little defensively. She nodded toward my left side where my hand was hanging by my hip. I impulsively lifted it to my face, scanning for the name.

“Not your hand,” she said.

I slowly looked down to my left side just above my hip where, just as she said, I could see the top of thick black letters peeking over the swimsuit.

~~~~~

“Alright, right’s wrong?” Dean asked, pausing the movie. We were halfway through our second movie of the night, Mission Impossible, and while I was enjoying it, I couldn’t seem to sit still. I was sat between the two boys, Dean’s arm resting on the back of the couch behind my head, our usual seating situation on movie nights. Sam was slouched over, starting to drift off. He could never seem to stay awake for more than one movie.

“What? Nothing’s wrong. Why do you think something’s wrong?” I asked him.

“Well, you haven’t sat still for more than five minutes at a time and I can see the wheels spinning in your head. You know you can talk to me about anything right?” He sounded genuinely concerned.

“I know.” I sighed.

“Nothing happened, right? You’ve seemed a little off since you got back.” He pushed, not for the information he knew I wasn’t ready to give, but for assurance that I was alright.

“I’m fine,” I told him honestly. “It’s just… I found my tattoo while we were trying on clothes. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it, figure out how I feel.” I confessed.

“Oh.” Was his only response. I could tell he wanted to press for more information, but he stayed quiet.

~~~~~

“I can’t look at it. I don’t want to know what it says. What do I do?” I asked. My breath was coming faster and I was starting to panic.

“Hey. Hey! Jenna! Look at me. Deep breath.” Alyssa calmly instructed, demonstrating and breathing with me until my breathing was back to normal. “You’re going to have to see it sometime. It’s unavoidable. Right now, it doesn’t change anything. It just gives you a name. You can do whatever you want with that name once you have it. It doesn’t decide anything for you.”

I knew she was right and steeled myself to look at it, Alyssa waiting patiently. Carefully, I pushed the swimsuit strap down just enough to reveal the name underneath.

DEAN

Ages 14 and 16 January 24, 1995

Dean’s POV

I stared at the ceiling, willing myself to find the energy to get out of bed. I heard Sam moving around, getting ready for school, but I couldn’t bring myself to do the same. I knew that by the end of the day I would have letters inked into my skin. Letters that spelled out my soulmate’s name. I had no illusions about my family’s lifestyle and what it would mean for my soulmate. It would be a bittersweet moment, finally learning her name, but knowing I could never allow myself to be with her, to put her in that kind of danger.

With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I rubbed my eyes before standing up and starting to get ready for the day. I had decided I wasn’t going to look for the tattoo. I would put it off for as long as I could and see it whenever I happened to stumble upon the patch of skin it showed up on.

~~~~~

It had been a pretty good morning. My anxiety had faded to the background when a smiling Jenna came into our room with bacon, eggs and toast for breakfast. It wasn’t elaborate by any means, but it was more than we usually had and the fact that she took the time to make it for us, for me, made it that much more special.

The two of them had given me the gift they picked out right away this morning when an excited Sam decided he couldn’t wait until after school. He halfway disappeared under the bed for a few seconds, wiggling his way back out with a box clutched in his hands. He proudly handed it to me and then watched in eager anticipation as I opened two new movies, Jumanji and Batman Forever.

“Now we have something to watch for movie night too!” He exclaimed. I thanked them both and then we headed to school, Jenna’s dad dropping us off.

Now I was sitting in the locker room, changing back into my regular clothes after gym class. I had opted out of a shower, not wanting to find my tattoo in this miserable place, surrounded by strangers I would have to guard my reaction around. I had my foot up on the bench I was sitting on, switching out my sweaty socks for a dry pair, lost in my thoughts when I heard someone to my left snicker and say, “Isn’t Jenna your sister?”

My head whipped around to look at Matt, the guy who had spoken. He was a sophomore like me, and while he wasn’t wildly popular, he sure thought he was something special. “What?” I snapped, confused about why he was asking about her. My protective instincts flared up. We had only been at this school for a week, but I was well aware how attractive Jenna was, and if this kid thought he was going to try something he had another thing coming. “Why?” I asked, failing to keep the suspicion out of my voice.

“Didn’t the two of you show up around the same time? And I’m pretty sure I’ve seen the two of you coming to school in the same car,” he mused. “So you must be her brother. That’s gotta be pretty awkward. Unless you know another Jenna?”

“I don’t have to explain anything to you,” I snapped.

“Dude, don’t they have different last names?” Chimed in a freshman whose name I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure if I should be grateful for or irritated by his input. “So unless they have different dads or something… I don’t think they’re related.” Irritated, I decided. He hadn’t said anything offensive, and his analysis wasn’t wrong, but I found I didn’t like the way he was obviously looking for Matt’s approval.

“Really? How do you know that?” Matt asked. Without waiting for a reply, he continued.

“Well that’s a relief. It would be pretty weird if your sister was your soulmate.” He laughed. “Too bad though,” he continued, having gained the attention of most of the locker room. “She’s not half bad looking. I might ask her out anyway, see what she really thinks about her pathetic, loser soulmate.”

I clenched my jaw. Having lived in tight quarters for years, Jenna and Sam had learned to back off at this, that it meant I was seriously pissed off. Matt had the misfortune of not knowing me so well. “Leave her alone.” I warned. I had managed to keep my temper so far, but if he actually made a move on her, all bets were off.

“Don’t worry,” Matt drawled on. “I’ll test her out for you. Let you know if she’s actually worth your ti-”

Before he even realized I was moving I had crossed the couple of steps to him, grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and shoved him back into the lockers. “I don’t know what you’re even talking about,” I seethed, “but you better stay away from her or I’ll make sure that my pathetic loser face is the last thing you see before I put you in the hospital.”

I turned away from him and, after taking a step, ducked, effectively dodging the punch I had seen him getting ready to throw. I spun back around and landed a solid punch to his face before grabbing my shoes and walking out the door. It wasn’t until I was sitting in the bleachers lacing up my boots that I saw it. Inked into the skin of my left ankle was her name.

JENNA

Chapter 2

#supernatural #spn #fanfic #soulmates #dean winchester #sam winchester #ofc #john winchester #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester x soulmate!ofc #supernatural fanfiction #soulmate!au #so long

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