#no one writes nurseydex like rhysiana

[likeshipsonthesea]

how you made me feel

...hello. so. remember two months ago when i fulfilled a prompt from a list, “I could never forget you,” and dumped, like, a whole bunch of nurseydex graduation feels on everyone’s laps and just, like,, sprinted away?? well the sequel i promised is now here. (to any who haven’t read the first part, it’s like kind of necessary)

my apologies for the long gap between then and now. i’ve been having weird writer’s block recently, where i can write but then halfway through i get doubts and think the whole thing is shitty and stop.. so i;ve started a whole bunch of things but finished none, and this is the first substantial thing i’ve finished in a while, and while it’s not, like, monumental, it feels like a lot to me right now :)

AND me finishing this was due in no small part to @rhysiana​ who beta’d this and helped me feel confident in writing again.. so thanks :))

no warnings for this (i know, a surprise for me, right?) but thought i’d tell y’all that the title is from a maya angelou quote that i repurposed a little.. now without further ado, here’s the sequel

         It’s not the type of place Dex would pick to spend an afternoon. It’s not even the sort of place Dex would spend a five-minute break, if given the option. Coffee houses make Dex feel on edge. The thick, rich smell makes him nauseous, gives him a headache like long car rides do. He’s always gotten carsick on long drives—that is, if he’s not the one driving. The lack of control makes him sick, he thinks, or that’s how he imagines Nursey would put it, if Dex ever told him about it.

         Dex stares up at the menu board above the counter. The drinks are all named with literature-themed puns and their descriptions—the fancy type of coffee, the origin of each individual bean—doesn’t clarify anything. Dex sways slightly and glances out the window of the shop.

         It’s still pouring. He still doesn’t have an umbrella and his apartment is still too many blocks away to run, risk the wetness seeping through his bag and reaching his laptop. He sighs into the coffee-laden air and swallows, turning back to the counter.

         It’s his turn.

         “Um, hi.” Dex smiles awkwardly at the barista, who smiles back, big and blank. “Do you have, like, regular coffee?”

         The barista winces and tries to stifle it, and Dex opens his mouth to apologize, instinctive, when he hears a heavy, incredulous utterance of his name.

         Dex turns, the chill running through him completely unrelated to his soaking clothes, and—yes. It’s him.

 *~*

           A summer rain in New York is a heady thing.

         The sweet, cool weather smothers the hot asphalt roads in steam that clings, heavy and metallic, on the back of Nursey’s tongue. A rain in the city is an inconvenience—those that walk are forced into cabs, subways, packing everything too full of frustration and humidity. The streets are barer, eerily. Nursey stands in a thundering cityscape, utterly and intoxicatingly alone. There are two things Nursey thinks could clear a city street—rain or the apocalypse.

         The rain around him, then, is to him the reminder that the world has not ended yet. It makes his blood surge in that desperate kind of way, that want to live kind of way. It pushes him, jittery, as he runs down the empty street, feet pounding against the sidewalk in slapping splashes of water. His hair is ruined, a mop of unmanageable curls that drifts into his eyes, sends water cascading down his forehead, lets raindrops cling to his eyelashes, clumping, blinding. The smart button-down stretched across his shoulders is freezing and drenched, tight like a second skin and peeling. His shoes, and the socks inside, squish with each pounding step and he knows—in that inevitable way that tends to send him into anxiety attacks—that he will be unbearably uncomfortable when he reaches the coffee house and he is then the only soaking thing there.

         Even with all that, though, Nursey grins as he sprints.

         What a thing it is to be one with the world around you. The raindrops against his skin, cold and [cloying], are the same ones shuddering all around him, and even as Nursey’s body recoils at the drowning, it knows in that way all natural things do that it is simply returning to something it was, once, or will be, one day. It’s a comfort that does not know its own name—a comfort older than its name, even.

         And for moments, as he runs through the streets on the familiar path to his favorite coffee place, Nursey feels home like he hasn’t since the day he stepped off campus for the last time.

         Even the ache of knowing it is fleeting can’t touch him, now.

 *~*~*

           The coffee cup in his hands burns. Dex juggles it between his left and right, holding it in each until it hurts more than he can handle.

         He could leave. It’s a fleeting, foolish thought. The door is there and his feet work and, yes, even the rain seems to be mellowing in the wake of this monumental shift, but none of that means that Dex can actually walk away. For one, Dex doubts Nursey would let him. For another, it’d been hard enough to do it—to leave Nursey—the first time. Dex doesn’t want to see if he can do it again.

         Nursey orders. Dex watches for a lack of anything else to do. The barista writes Nursey’s name, Derek, on a cup, then works out Nursey’s change. She holds out a few coins and Nursey takes them quickly, dropping two in his rush. He hurries to pick them up and smiles in that charming, self-deprecating way. Dex used to think it was put-on, one of those things rich people learned, like dining etiquette or handshakes, that kept them above the rest, above Dex. He doesn’t remember when he figured out that it was one of Nursey’s more honest reactions, that smile.

         Dex’s fingers twitch against the coffee cup, burning.

 *~*~*

           The coffee shop is warm in a grounding, shocking way. Nursey has come to be familiar with the place, enough that the judging looks he receives from its dry patrons can be interpreted as the confusion of visitors who will be gone soon anyway.

         It is not quite Annie’s, but then again, most things here are not quite Samwell. Even the rain outside, though liberating, is not New England rain. A rain in New England is less heady. It does not distract, fleetingly, but awakens. A New England rain, thick and clean, characterized by dew-drenched grasses and shuddering, screaming trees, it is a wholly sobering thing. Late-spring rains, the ones caught between winter and summer like the unsure smile following silence but before the laughter. Post-playoffs rain, when the seasons were dictated by nature once again, when life stopped happening between game days and practices and plays, when life just started happening, once again. When bare skin in shadowy spring sunshine made the need to touch all that more insistent. When flower petals tucked around edges of yards and landscapes, behind ears for jokes and softness, made for contrasting reminders of the winter preceding it. When possibility was perched on the edge of every blade of grass, twined within the tunes of birds, newly home, all a reminder that things will change, always change, and sometimes that can be good, too.

         This is what Nursey tells himself, has been telling himself, when he steps into the coffee shop, since he came home to this foreign place.

         He takes a deep breath and sighs against the not-quite-right. He steps up to the line, musing to himself over which drink he should order today, when the voice, “Um, hi,” shudders through the world like the right kind of rain and Nursey’s heartbeat—too fast like the endless rush of people through his streets—for a brief moment, settles.

 *~*~*

           Nursey turns from the counter with his drink, still smiling. It’s duller, this smile, more conscious than Dex would prefer. “The good table is open,” he says, gesturing with his cup. Dex follows the direction to a circular two-seater by the window, squished between a bookshelf and a decorative wall. Dex takes a seat in one of the cushy armchairs, lower than he likes, and understands instantly why Nursey deems this table “good.”

         The coffee shop chatter dims the moment they sit, and Nursey’s smile twitches a bit wider, honest, in response.

         “So,” he says, and takes a sip from his drink so he can raise his eyebrows at Dex over the rim. Dex looks away, drumming his fingers on the lid of his own drink. “You’re in New York.”

         Dex wishes they were in a place, still, where he could just nod and Nursey wouldn’t push any more than that. (Quietly, though, he really, really doesn’t.)

         “Yeah, uh. I—I work here.”

         Dex doesn’t look at Nursey’s face, where he knows eyebrows are rising impossibly high.

         “You work here?”

         Nod.

         “How long?”

         Clench jaw.

         “…oh.”

 *~*~*

           It’s difficult, has been difficult, to be himself in this place. In the city, Nursey’s skin is itchy, tight and ill-fitting, and his steps are heavier, like each forward movement simply increases the distance between the safe person he used to be and the stranger he seemingly must become. Calls with the team make it easier. Facetimes with Chowder and Dex as Nursey hangs upside down on his bed, hoping it isn’t too obvious the way his eyes lock onto the screen in spreads of constellation-tan freckles. With the pixelated gaze of his two closest friends focused on him, smiling, even from hundreds of miles away, he felt settled, comfortable. Home.

         Now, with Dex watching, that familiarity returns to his fingertips—if, unfortunately, in the form of his typical clumsiness. He fumbles his coffee order, stuttering, and drops the cold coins the barista hands him, his body suddenly warm from the cold. The raindrops dripping against his skin are hot, confusingly, and he doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that it is Dex’s gaze making them so.

         Dex waits, seemingly patient, and Nursey worries at the change until he notices the way Dex shifts his cup from hand to hand after a handful of blinks, the way his body sways with the movement. As an editor, it’s probably worrying that Dex has been the easiest thing for Nursey to read since he came to this city. Maybe, he thinks, as he collects his drink, it’s the writers’ fault, and not his.

         Then again, he thinks, falling into step behind Dex, an impossible standard is hardly fair.

 *~*~*

           Nursey says nothing for a long while.

         Dex, greedy, grasping, stares unrestrained. He didn’t know how much he missed this, wouldn’t let himself dwell on it, until now. Nursey eyelashes, drying but still glistening, flutter against the dampness of his cheeks. Green, bright eyes, like all the good parts of Maine Dex wants to remember. The softness of his ears, hidden under sodden curls, the hard lines of his neck, his shoulders. He’s been working out since he left, Dex can tell, but nothing like the routines they had at Samwell. And after the heavy playoff season, after the summer sun, Nursey looks smaller, calmer. More at ease.

         This is what I wanted, Dex thinks, breaking. I wanted him to be happy without me.

         Even without speaking the words, the familiar bitter taste of a lie sits heavy on his tongue.

 *~*~*

           Nursey doesn’t know what to do with this.

         With Dex, sitting here all sun-soft and freckly, real and in person and absolutely way too much. With the fact that he’s been here, been within seeing distance, visiting distance, for almost two months, and he said nothing about it. With the part of himself—the aching, lovely, desperate part of himself—that doesn’t even seem to care, wants to reach out and hold and pull comfort from regardless of mistruths or omissions.

         “Why?” he finds himself asking, without quite knowing if he wants the answer.

         Dex’s eyelids flutter momentarily, the way they do when he’s wondering whether or not to be an asshole, and Nursey loves it—missed it too much not too—and wants to curse, yell, something, because Dex didn’t want to see him, has been here in this foreign place and didn’t want Nursey as much as Nursey has wanted him and—and he’s going to be a dick about it?

         “Dex.” Nursey swallows, fingers pressing too hard against the paper cup. “Why did you—why didn’t you—”

         “Nursey.” Dex’s lips flatten. He’s decided, it seems, and Nursey exhales, slow, thankful. “I didn’t tell anyone,” he says, and going by how he doesn’t look up from the table, he knows that is a shit excuse. “I—I don’t know how to—it wasn’t you. Well. Sort of. I…”

         Nursey waits. Dex has taught him a kind of patience he didn’t think he could have. A kind where his hands do not shake, his shoulders do not tighten. When the waiting isn’t worrisome, because the result—long-awaited and slow-coming as it is—will be worth it, must be worth it, because Dex does not know how to leave expectations unfulfilled. Good expectations, that is. Dex is the smile at the end of a good play, the laughter after a clever chirp, the summation of four years of growth, both a constant reminder pushing for the best and the monument to the work it took to be better. Dex is what Nursey has learned to wait for, for better or for worse, and he realizes as he waits that this is the thing that’s been missing since he got to New York.

         Someone who knows what he came from, someone who can appreciate the progress, someone who loved all of it and will continue to do so, no matter what.

         “Your life here,” Dex says, and Nursey’s too-quick heart suddenly doesn’t care what he’s about to say. “I don’t fit.”

         “Bullshit.” Nursey’s mama always told him his quick tongue would get him in trouble one day, and that was before he sorted his body out enough for his mouth to work along with his mind. He’s ruined, now, Nursey thinks, watching Dex’s lips part into a pretty pink ‘O’. Dex is in New York, Nursey thinks, delirious. Dex is here.

         “Really,” Dex continues, because he’s nothing if not the stubborn, snarky ginger Nursey met on Taddy Tour, and fuck, Nursey missed him. “You—you’re supposed to be a fancy New York writer, with friends who read, like, interesting novels, and travel to places I don’t even know the names of, and you go to weird hipster places like—like this—” he gestures all about himself, absurdly insistent and frowning all wrinkled up and Nursey can’t help the smile pulling his lips apart, because it’s ridiculous, and Dex is ridiculous, and he’s here— “I feel like you’re not listening to me,” Dex says, mildly deflated, pouting a bit but mostly just annoyed, and the laugh bursts from Nursey’s tongue, sweet.

         “I’m totally not, dude, wow. First of all, this place? Not hipster. You want hipster, go to Totally Caff’d two blocks over. That place is hipster. Second?” The smile feels too wide and Dex is staring at him like he’s crazy and everything feels right in a way that would be worrying if it was their frog year, or Nursey liked himself a little less, or Dex wasn’t the bright ginger ball of change and assurance and perfection that he is now. “Just so we’re clear, my life is always better when you’re in it. And third,” Nursey says, barreling on doggedly even as the lovely pink embarrassment flush floods Dex’s freckle-tan face, “you are the most ridiculous person I have ever met.”

         Dex blinks, sighs, and—after a moment—says, “Frustrating but probably true.”

         “Most def true,” Nursey says, just because it makes Dex’s nose wrinkle the way it always does when Nursey uses bad slang. “Now come on, Dexy-do.” Nursey stands from the table and the coffee-house chatter floods in, but he hardly pays it any mind because Dex stands up without hesitation even with the adorable confusion on his face. “We’re going to go on a walk,” Nursey says, reaching out to take Dex’s hand (prompting a darker, lovelier shade of pink to overtake his face), “and catch up.”

         Dex, delightfully, lets himself be led out of the coffee shop into the freshly washed world. Nursey’s shoes squish, wet, against the sodden sidewalk, and Dex still has this dazed look on his face—though it is distinctly pleased. The air is warm, and damp, and unquestionably, wonderfully new.

[gayjeris]

Who are your favourite ao3 writers that write nurseydex fic? I need some new fic to read

Oh god okay um….. I’d need like a vat of gluten free lasagne, one of those gravity water jugs, and 30 years to properly answer this ask, and I probably won’t give you anything new because I’m very basic. None of this is in order because I’m basically scrolling down the chrono feed and finding my faves as I go since I don’t archive well. Also, check my fic rec tag for ficlets and general recommendations because I’m always reblogging things I find on tumblr there, and it’s almost all nurseydex, though not 100%. Anyway, here’s as near a comprehensive AO3 list as I feel able to get to.

Shelly, aka shellybelle, aka @geniusorinsanity

THIS ISN’T NEWS. Not only is Shelly one of my best friends on this damn site, they’re also one of the hardest-working, funniest, and most honest writers I have encountered in fandom, with angst and kink and relationships and everything. Their Nursey is very real and feels like someone I want to know, and their Dex is just...me. He’s me. If you’re reading their writing and you think “huh I relate to Dex” TOO BAD YOU’RE KIN WITH ME NOW.

Meg, aka Leslie_Knope, aka @leslieknopeismyshiningstar

My GAWD, have you ever read better fumbly, messy, idiotic fratboys/NHL rookies/basically strangers sex in your LIFE? No, you haven’t. You just haven’t. Go.

Plum, aka sinbindos, @sinbindos

Go yell at Plum so she keeps writing Fireflies because I have no clout except cheerreading and I need more of it. Plum is one of my closest friends and I can’t get over anytime she is able to get writing out because it’s just so good and I love it so much. Also whenever Plum writes Derek Nurse getting affection and love, it’s healing for everyone. We all deserve to feel that heal.

Karo, aka akadiene, aka @bluegrasshole

L I S T E N   Karo isn’t really doing the Check Please thing anymore which is lowkey tragic but read everything she wrote that’s complete because it’s so fucking good you’ll shit. Strange Lovers and Row Upon Row, if you haven’t read them for some reason, what the FUCK, GO NOW. I had a bit of a hand in Strange Lovers as a cheerreader and miiiinor helper in the story movements and it’s by far one of the best pieces in the fandom and honestly should be published.

Sarah, aka DizzyRedhead, aka @dizzy-redhead

Do I even have to say why you should go read this stuff? Just go. Tropes and sex and soft boys and idiots in love. You’re already reading. Bye.

poindereks

I don’t really know anything about this author but I trust them with my fucking life, they post regularly when it’s new, and it’s good shit. I look forward to their next fic.

Dana, aka rhysiana, @rhysiana

Another author who I just...idk I just trust to take a prompt or an idea and run and do a great job. Always strong writing and I never enjoy fluff as much as I do when she writes it.

lyrithim

Another author I know very little about but I like a lot. IDK go forth.

ahausonfire, @ahausonfire

Not to be dramatic but their fics have gotten me out of drawing slumps and honest to god depression spirals on more than one occasion and if you’re not reading them I don’t know what you’re about.

Jessie, aka alocalband, @alocalband

UM so the genre of misunderstanding and feelings realization didn’t exist until just now I decided? Get to reading.

This is so long and it’s not even close to complete but I just have to call it. I know there are far more than this that I didn’t mention, which is why my fic rec tag is truly the best place to go for up to date love from me, because when I sees it, I reblogs it. I don’t archive well on AO3 and it bites me in the ass every time I want to find something I like.

Anyway, hope this helped!

[adamlynnch]

Check Please!: fic recs

these are mostly nurseydex heavy but there are some good ones. I’ll tag ships just incase.

*Crossed Wires by lecrivaineanonyme

14k, Oneshot, T (nurseydex)

Will snorts. "You are unreal,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ve had people in here crying because they downloaded a virus that can be removed in two minutes, and here you are with pie-filling in your computer, joking about how at least you didn’t fucking put rice in it.”

Derek grins. “It’s chill,” he replies, scratching the back of his neck. “Why worry? I know you got my back.”

Also known as the one where Nursey is constantly fucking up his laptop and Dex is the lucky Best Buy employee who gets to fix it.

*Mixing It Up by sinspiration

40k, Multi-chapter, M (zimbits)

Eric Bittle, of Bitty's Bakery, is very excited to have been chosen as a contestant for the Food Network Challenge. He's even more excited to find out that he's making a cake for the NHL new-Cup winners, the Falconers.

Jack Zimmerman, of the Falconers, doesn't know anything about cake, and will be the first to tell you that he feels wholly unqualified to judge a cake-making competition. At least Alexei is there to help ease things a little. Honestly, all he's really expecting is to be very awkward on camera for the entire segment, and to eat a lot of cake that's not really in his diet plan.

That's how it starts.

*how to not fall in love with your best friend + other holiday activities by quidhitch

7k, Oneshot, M (holsom)

When Ransom meets Adam Birkholtz for the first time he’s wearing a t-shirt that’s half a size too small for him, jeans that are worn out in the ratty way, and Birkenstocks that look about a thousand years old. His glasses are crooked on his nose and he introduces himself with a loud, booming laugh even though Ransom hasn’t said anything particularly funny. Ransom thinks it’s the kind of laugh that moves mountains, full and round and beautiful.

“Everyone calls me Holster,” Adam says, squeezing Ransom’s hand before he lets it go.

“Cool,” Ransom’s smile back is a reflex, the easiest, most natural response to Holster’s toothy grin. “I’m Ransom.”

“Sick nickname,” Holster tosses an arm around Ransom’s shoulder’s without warning. He is very large and very warm, and his breath smells like cinnamon. “You know what, Ransom? I think we’re gonna be tight.”

*I Know I Am, But What Are You? by sysrae

19k, Multi-chapter, E (nurseydex)

“I need you,” says Dex, “to be my fake date at my family Christmas. Please.” “Cool,” says Nursey, mouth operating on Chill Autopilot while his higher brain functions come to a screeching halt. “I can do that.”

first love, late spring by lehtonen

12k, Oneshot, M (holsom)

“Right.” Ransom still looks serious, but there’s a sinister glint in his eye that Holster gloomily recognises as contemplation. “What’s in it for us?”

Holster whips his head round to stare at him so fast his neck twinges in three different places. “Nothing is in it for us,” he hisses sotto voce, “or did you not hear the part where we’d be dating?”

handful of crazy stars by alwaysayes

2k, Oneshot, T (nurseydex)

your name is derek nurse and your world is on fire and will is your sun and your moon and stars and your entire virgo supercluster and you know that you are his too. your name is derek nurse and for the first time in your life you may have something other than hockey to keep you going because he makes you strong and you make him strong and together you are inescapable and magical and radiant and everything in the world that you will ever need because you have each other.

*The Huntsman and the Bard by rhysiana

9k, Oneshot, T (nurseydex)

Derek Nurse has cut it extremely fine on finding a cover story location for their New England travel magazine's fall issue, but he the pumpkin farm he just came across looks almost too good to be real. If only he can get the taciturn owner to agree to an interview...

Dex has no interest in an interview, or any kind of publicity. He's just trying to live a normal, mundane life, far, far away from the politics of the Faerie Court and his mother. But this journalist is proving oddly persuasive...

In which things go right, and then they go very, very wrong. Faerie queens do not like to be denied.

All I Ask by nickbonino

1k, Oneshot, T (holsom)

Ransom had been at March’s for a little under two hours, one last afternoon together before Ransom went to kiss the ice goodbye that evening, when he got the call. Bitty sounded almost frantic but was clearly trying hard to hide it.

“Ransom, I think you should come home. I don’t know what’s going on but I think you should be here.” Bitty’s voice rose as he spoke and Ransom heard what sounded like him banging on a door.

“Bits, I’m sorry dude but I’m kinda busy. Can’t you just sort whatever it is?” He tried to sound as apologetic as possible but Bitty was having none of it.

“Holster won’t open his door, Rans! I can hear him cr-. Just come home,” Bitty ordered, with a note of finality Ransom wasn’t prepared to argue with.

“Yeah, yeah okay. I’ll be there in five,” he sighed and hung up.

*and we dance like angels do by benvolio

7k, Oneshot, T

"Bitty is a literal angel. Not just the whole angelic metaphor concerning how his blond hair probably forms a wispy halo around him when the light hits him from behind or anything. Real deal angel."

Inspired by tumblr user cardamom 

all this war just to win by lehtonen

8k, Oneshot, E (nurseydex)

“You want me to shut up?” Dex takes a step back, triumphant, his eyes flashing. “Make me.”

Or: Dex and Nursey hook up, but they're still a mess.

*if we bite (the pain is sweet) by shellybelle

57k, Multi-chapter, E (nurseydex)

After two and a half semesters at Samwell, Dex has gotten used to people handling their stress in weird ways. Bitty bakes up a storm, Lardo is constantly covered in what Dex really, really hopes is paint, Ransom turns into a curled-up ball of anxiety on the nearest flat surface. He gets it: people are just weird here.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t choke on his Red Bull when Nursey sighs, “God, I’m so tense right now. I just really need to suck a dick, y’know?”

(Or: five times Dex and Nursey really don’t quite know what they’re doing, and one time they’ve really, really figured it out.)

dots and dashes. by katarama

1k, Oneshot, T (nurseydex)

It took him a longest to warm up to Nursey, to feel comfortable with much more contact than a fistbump after a celly. There were the incessant “chill”s that grated on Dex’s nerves more than they should’ve. There was also the voice in the back of Dex’s head to be careful, because once everyone found out he liked boys, there was no helping the fact that things with Nursey would get weird.

Now, they’ve come far enough that he’s sitting on the grass with Nursey’s head in his lap by the pond, the sun finally warm enough in May to have melted all the ice and snow.

Cheiloproclitic by akadiene

1k, Oneshot, T (zimbits)

Cheiloproclitic - Being attracted to someones lips.

Jack really likes kissing.

all that you've conquered by whimsicalimages

10k, Oneshot, T (nurseydex)

“Drunk Nursey doesn’t write checks that sober Nursey can’t cash,” Nursey tells him very seriously.

Or: William J. Poindexter’s sister is getting married, which means, among other things, that he has to learn how to dance.

Close by tiptoe39

23k, Multi-chapter, E (zimbits)

They’ve been together for a month and a half. Now they need to learn how to be close.

A Madison/Fourth of July fic

[chirpingisflirting]

I need a minute to yell about a fic writer whose work I absolutely LOVE. @rhysiana produces some of the most amazing and moving pieces of writing I have literally ever read (and since I am a Nursey/Dex blog, this will focus on her fics for that ship). As you guys probably know, one of my favorite fics ever is her  huntsman piece, which is absolutely perfect in all ways and I read all the time, and time and time again. The writing flows so beautifully and all of the characters are so well described, the scenery she sets is absolutely gorgeous, and the plot is just oh my god amazing and stunning and wonderful (it follows a folklore tale, the Ballad of Tam Lin, but does such a wonderful job of using the Check, Please! Characters). Literally every time I read this fic it’s like the first time, I will never get tired of reading it. SHE ALSO just updated another fic, Sprezzatura, which kinda resonated a bit with my own experiences (read my earlier post) re private school and protecting oneself. This fic explores Nursey’s character quite beautifully. My favorite line of the first chapter is “In his mind, he touched the glass.” UGH. Such amazing writing. I absolutely love this fic.

Besides the Bard and the Huntsman, my all-time favorite 100% MVP GOAT wonderful beautiful tear-inducing gorgeous aaaaaa fic/series is the “Petals and Thorns” series. Ho. Ly. Shit. The first fic, “The Punk and the Florist,” is the fic that tossed me down the NurseyDex hole, and added a cushion at the bottom of my fall with its sequel “Isla Negra.” It’s an AU fic where Dex is a punk artist and Nursey is a florist and the author just molds absolutely beautiful characters who interact so wonderfully and they’re so relatable. The writing is just fantastic. I have no way to express just how much I love this series. GO READ IT. You deserve it.

And then there’s the wonderful Samwell Faculty AU series, in which Nursey and Dex a) adopt a daughter (aaaaa) and b) said daughter throws a fit. The characters are so well written and so true to themselves. Then there’s the cuticle care fic in which Dex shows an affinity for making sure your hands are healthy and takes care of Nursey, and the zombie fic which made me laugh soooo many times, and her collection of mini-fics which describe Nursey and Dex’s evolving friendship/relationship and is just so awesome to read.

So I think it’s pretty clear how much I love this author’s work. The writing is so wonderful, all of the characters just come alive and are written so well, and they stay true to themselves and most of all they’re really real, the interactions aren’t forced, nothing is too cliche, everything is just perfect. Her way of describing settings is just amazing and brings you directly into the situations. The plots are so wonderfully constructed, always original and they make you look at the characters in ways I’ve never read before. I am so blessed to have entered this fandom and support this ship and we have such wonderful authors and artists to provide happy feels and angst and fics and headcanons and illustrations and everything for us. Go follow her blog, @rhysiana!!! Read her stories (all her Check! Please fics can be found here!!! You all deserve good things, and she gives them to us.

[likeshipsonthesea]

5 and 46 for the mash up thing

5. Bar/Restaurant AU & 46. Blind Date AU

…okay so like i really really wanna make this a bittydex au but i’m restraining myself. NURSEYDEX

okay so dex gets a job as a bartender at one of the more lowkey bars in nyc, not exactly a dive but on the edge, as a way to make extra cash while he’s interning and he’s p good it– lots of parties with family spent being anti-social and reading cocktail books instead of talking per rhysiana’s beautiful post here– and he’s making good tips, as he can be social when he’s being paid for it.

only problem? there’s this guy that comes in every week for drinks with increasingly horrible dates. there was the guy who walked about films he thought were underrated in idiotic american society for the majority of the date (dex gleaned quickly that he was a film major, and while after junior year most film majors are tolerable, this one seemed to be trying to break some kind of record for longest time being horrible)

then there was the girl who was texting with her ex (?) boyfriend for the majority of the date, which she said was because they were still living together and he was having issues with the stove and, like, it was obvious she was still hung up on him and dex felt for her, but the poor date was left staring at her staring at her phone for the majority of the time

and THEN there was the weirdest one of all who legit tried to bring in his own food to the bar, like he pulled out a bag of mcdonalds ten minutes into the date and when dex told him he couldn’t do that he made a huge scene and started yelling at dex for something or other and the poor guy looked so embarrassed about it

so yeah. this had been happening every week for the past month and a half, and dex was basically in love with this guy just from watching him during these dates. yeah, it was pathetic. the guy was cute– okay fucking hot– but he also had really interesting things to say whenever he actually got a word in and he was funny not that his dates usually got the jokes, but he constantly had dex muffling laughter into his towel. and when he defended dex against that asshole who smuggled food in, well. let’s just say that dex fell ass over teakettle right then.

but what was he going to do about it, huh? dex was working whenever they saw each other and, furthermore, the guy was always on a date. dex couldn’t just butt in. that would be so rude, and he’d probably get fire. so he watched and did nothing and pined, quietly, behind his bar.

then the guy got stood up.

the guy arrived a few minutes early– dex guessed. most people didn’t schedule dates for 8:47. he found a spot at the bar and fiddled with his phone for a while. at 9:05, he kept turning his neck this way and that, obviously looking for someone. at 9:17, he was huffing, furiously texting someone, and by 9:30 he pulled out a notebook that he immediately began writing in.

only problem was that when he went to put it back away, it was sticky with something that had been on the bar. “oh just fucking great,” the guy said, and dex tried not to focus on the way his lips moved over the word “fuck” and went to clean the bar and offer to clean the notebook.

“oh,” the guy said. “thanks.” dex cleaned the book with the towel, careful to remove the residue while keeping the book intact. he handed it back. “thanks, will.”

dex frowned at him.

the guy cleared his throat and pointed at dex’s chest. he looked down. oh yeah. his nametag. “is that just a lie so people don’t know your real name?”

“no,” dex said, flushing. “it’s just i go by dex, usually. hockey nickname.”

the guy grinned so wide. “oh man, me too. i’m derek, but everyone except my parents calls me nursey. i hardly even answer to it sometimes, too.”

“hockey?”

“yup. played in college. you?”

“samwell.”

“no shit. you know shitty knight?”

dex thought back to last wednesday, when he visited boston and walked into shitty and lardo’s apartment to find shitty sitting naked on the couch, eating cereal, and yelling at someone on the food network that they were ‘fucking burning the croutons, dumbass!”

“yeah i know shitty.”

“we went to andover together,” nursey said, grinning. “wow. small world.”

dex smiled back. thank god for shitty knight.

nursey’s date never showed up, but he didn’t end up leaving until closing. in between customers, dex talked with him about hockey and tips and the capitalist system and memes and family legacies and burdens and anything they could think of, really. typically bartenders make people feel like they can confess anything, but that night, dex couldn’t stop saying things, not because he had to or felt indebted, but because he felt comfortable doing it and that was so fucking remarkable he didn’t even really know how to think about it

dex had closing that night. nursey stayed while he cleaned up, put chairs and stools on top of tables, rambled about jane austen as dex worked. dex listened, even kind of interested, if only because of the light in nursey’s eyes as he talked avidly with his hands. he nearly knocked over some glasses before dex barely saved them.

“shit, sorry,” nursey said. they were so close. dex swallowed.

“no problem.” nursey stared back, looking between dex’s eyes until his gaze drifted downwards, towards– “what was that notebook?”

nursey looked up as if he’d been scolded for something. “what?” he said, eyes guilty.

“the notebook you were writing in before.” dex was an idiot. was nursey going to kiss him before? why didn’t dex just let it happen fuck

“oh.” nursey pulled out the notebook. “i’m a journalist and i’m doing a piece on this new dating app that’s supposed to be super friendly for bi/pan people.” he shrugged, opening the notebook. “so far being pan isn’t a huge issue.” he grinned ruefully. “the people on the other hand.”

dex wrinkled his nose. how could someone with nursey get matched with people like… them? “can’t you, like, swipe or something before going out with them?”

“it doesn’t work like that. part of the app is that you know nothing about them before the date, gender, age, likes, dislikes. i think it was just trying really hard to be different, and it’s cool, the first couple of times, but like. i don’t want to waste so many nights with people i know i have no future with.”

“makes sense,” dex agreed. “sorry you’ve been wasting so many nights the past month.”

nursey smirked lightly, listing forwards a little. “well,” he said, voice a tone or two lower. “i wouldn’t call it a waste.”

“why- why not?” nursey was so close. he had such pretty eyelashes. they pillowed so nicely on his cheeks and then fluttered up, catching dex off-guard every time with the homesickness-inducing color beneath them.

“i met this really hot bartender,” nursey said, smirk widening. “i’ve mostly been staring at him for the past month instead of my dates. it’s probably why they’ve all gone so bad.”

“i don’t know,” dex said, flying a little. “there seemed to be a lot of assholes.”

nursey laughed and before the sound had finished they were kissing.

~epilogue~

dex walked into the bedroom, holding his phone and a plate of eggs and bacon, frowning. “did you write an article about me?”

nursey was half asleep and still satisfied-sleepy from last night. “mm?”

“How Spin the Bottle Got Me a Really Hot Boyfriend Without Having to Swipe at All?” Dex read. “Isn’t that kind of clickbait? You didn’t meet me through the app.” Dex joined nursey in the bed, handing him the plate. Nursey grinned and began eating with his fingers. Dex wrinkled his nose at it but said nothing.

“ah whatever.” nursey pushed his forehead into dex’s hip. “i just wanted to brag about my hot bartender boyfriend.”

dex said nothing. he just munched on a piece of bacon with a smile.

[likeshipsonthesea]

First Lines Meme

Rules: list the first lines of your last ten published stories. see if there are any patterns yourself, and see if anyone else notices any! tag up to ten friends!

Tagged by @rhysiana​! (Thanks :) ) This is reverse chronological order of ten things from my “my writing” tag.

1.  The morning starts much earlier than it should. (Sequel to the nurseydex Isn’t it obvious? fic)

2.  The night has probably been going on longer than it should have. (The nurseydex Isn’t it obvious? fic)

3. Dex is really busy during the months before the wedding. (A little ficlet based on a submitted picture of shellfish china that I turned into something ridiculous.)

4. “Kiss me.” (A prompt fulfilling the line “Tell me this when you’re sober” that is very sad. Sorry not sorry.)

5.  Rain patters against the window as Nursey walks into their shared room, slightly damp and wholly exhausted. (Another prompt fulfilling the line “Do these dark circles under my eyes say nothing to you about how I’m doing?”)

6.  The sign isn’t exactly enticing, but it piques Nursey’s curiosity. (A prompt about a sign in front of a coffee shop from a few years back, involving two Very Tired Boys.)

7.  “You’d think after twenty something years of being a pasty fuck, you’d learned how to put on sunscreen,” Nursey says, slathering aloe-gel across Dex’s back as he shuffles uncomfortably on the bed. (A ficlet written when I was suffering from an uncomfortable sunburn, as a fellow pasty fuck.)

8.  Suzie grew up in Georgia all her life, and she’s watched as people she loved disappeared right out of her life. (A ficlet written about Suzanne Bittle right after the update called Connotations. Eh, not my favorite first line ever.)

9.  “Fuck, it’s hot.” (A ficlet I wrote at the end of Pride Month when I was feeling melancholy, or whatever.)

10.   “I’m busy that day,” Dex says, when Nursey proposes going to see a concert in Boston. (A fic response to the Friends ask meme, the one with five steaks and an eggplant. Mine actually only has one steak and eggplant, but I hope y’all will forgive me anyway.)

Patterns: I’m not sure? I know that a lot of the time, when I start a ficlet thing here on Tumblr, I’ll start with a line of somewhat wacky dialogue to keep people reading the inevitably long paragraph to follow, which you can kind of see in 9 and 4 (and kind of 7). Also 1 and 2 are very similar but I did that intentionally because they’re the same story so I was trying to tie them together like that.

I don’t have many friends (or at least ones that haven’t already been tagged) so I’m gonna tag @randomnoteforfuturereference and anyone else who wants to do it can say they’ve been tagged by me!