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writingformyblorbos · 1 year

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thank you so much for reading!

also, hope the crush thing goes over well!

It's cloudy above (Part 1) [next chapter >]

Steven Grant × gn!Reader (possible Marc × Reader and Jake × Reader in the future) Summary: You spot the cute man from the bus while buying groceries and try talking to him. A strange encounters takes place later on. Word count: 2.2k Warnings: Mugging, canon-typical violence (death, guns, you know the drill), swearing in Spanish, not proof read (taking risks is my speciality not really). a/n: This is my first fic in a loong while, but I wanted desperately to write something for Steven and make a shameless self-insert. I just love him so much. Also, I don't think I'll want to see the word mushroom in a long while. Lastly, I want to apologize in advance if i got the intricacies of London's public transport wrong, I tried to do my best as a foreigner with the most research I could. I hope you enjoy:)!!

It was late in the afternoon on Sunday, and you had gone to your nearest Tesco to stock up on groceries. You were on the vegetable isle, looking for some items from the shopping list on your phone. As you were reading what the next item on your list was, you couldn’t help but notice a familiar figure out of the corner of your eye. When you looked up, you saw the back of a man with curly hair you swore you could almost recognize. When he turned around, you couldn’t believe your eyes. ‘Could it be? There’s no way,’ you told yourself. But it was. It was him; the cute guy from the bus you had a crush on.

You would see him often on your way to work, always having dark bags under his eyes, adorned by the messy curls in his head. He seemed like the shy type, and the poor man always looked totaled, like he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in a long while, often falling asleep on the bus; there was even one time he screamed and looked frightened, which was weird, but you figured was because he'd had a nightmare. Who doesn't dream a clown is chasing them every now and again? You didn’t know that much about him, only that he would get off on Trafalgar Square and that he was a person keen on history and other intellectual stuff, judging by the hieroglyphs on his phone case and the kinds of books he would occasionally read on the bus to keep himself awake, poetry and history books of the sort —always wearing his reading glasses, of course— yet your little knowledge of him and his generally disheveled appearance didn't stop his sharp jaw, his curly hair, his beautiful brown eyes, and his intriguing interests from drawing your attention, leading you to develop a crush on him. He was the whole package, after all (smart and handsome).

But one day, he stopped boarding the bus. You figured he'd gotten a day off or he was sick, but days turned into weeks, and eventually, it had been a while since you'd last seen him. Maybe he'd switched jobs or had moved. Either way, he wasn't a part of your life anymore.

Or so you thought, up until today, seeing him going about his errands. You stared at him in disbelief. He still looked as tired as ever, you could even say he looked more tired, like he'd been working out an entire week non-stop. You wanted to ask him so many things, but there was no way you could ask him why he no longer took Bus 24 without sounding like an absolute creep. You contemplated on whether it was better to leave him alone or if you should try talking to him, but this feeling in your gut told you this might be your chance: what if you never saw him again and just lost the opportunity of a lifetime? So, you started brainstorming any kind of small talk you could spark up in the supermarket without it being awkward. Then bingo! He was holding two packets of mushrooms: one was a packet of normal mushrooms, and the other was a packet of sliced mushrooms, and he was looking at them indecisively. You could help him and go from there?

You felt absolutely ridiculous, but you had to. Your conscience would never leave you alone if you didn't. So, you mustered up all the courage you could and made you way towards him. You took a deep breath, trying to stop your hands and legs from shaking, and said:

"If I were you, I'd get the sliced ones."

"Sorry?" he asked, a bit startled by the sudden comment.

"Oh! I just, I would get the sliced mushrooms. They really help you save up time. Unless you have skewers, then you can just..." —you gestured your hands as if you were pricking an imaginary mushroom with your imaginary skewer— "stick it in the mushes and slice them".

He looked at you a bit confused, but you could also see a glimpse of surprise in his eyes.

"That's quite impressive, seems like you know your mushrooms," He chuckled, leaving the normal mushrooms in the bin they were. "I don’t happen to have skewers back at home, so I guess I'll just take the sliced ones, more practical. Thank you"

"No problem," you smiled.

Great, what now? That wasn't the most captivating conversation starter you could bring up. Perhaps it was a stupid idea to try talking to him, 'he probably thinks I'm a weirdo for talking about mushrooms' you told yourself, so you decided to turn around and get back to your business.

"Wait!" You heard from the dark-haired man, "do you happen to take Bus 24 in the mornings?"

No way. There's no way he actually recognized you. Now that you thought about it, what if he thought you were stalking him? I mean, you weren't, but anxiety often leads you to the most extreme trains of thought.

"Uhh, yeah! Yeah, I do," you answered, nervously waiting for him to get angry.

"That's mental! I remember you. You watch videos of cute animals, yeah?" He immediately looked flustered, like he regretted what he'd said, "I mean, not that I eavesdropped on what you were doing on your phone. I only saw it once."

You were relieved he wasn't angry, but also a bit amazed he'd remembered that small detail. He said he didn’t eavesdrop, but that was clearly a lie. Watching cute animals was a must in your daily commute to work though. You could see he was a bit embarrassed by his comment, so you tried to reassure him.

"Oh no, no worries. I once saw you reading a book on Ancient Egypt, right?" he affirmed with his head and seemed to be a little less afflicted, so you tried breaking the ice a bit more. "My name is (y/n). (y/n) (l/n)" you said as you offered your hand for a handshake.

He shook your hand back, with his big, calloused hands, "Steven Grant. The Steven is with a 'v'"

Steven. ‘A pretty name and very fitting,’ you thought. He indeed looked like a Steven.

"It's nice to finally know your name, Steven with a 'v'".

“Likewise, (y/n),” he nodded back, and you both stayed silent for a while, smiling and blushing.

"Well, I'll see you around then. Cheers!" he waved off. There he was, again, slipping through your fingers, like sand on the desert. Come on, had you really gone through embarrassing yourself by talking about mushrooms to just see him walk off? Steven was such a mystery, but one you wanted to know oh so desperately. It was now or never, you had to try to ask him out, or at the very least get his phone number.

"Hey! Uhm..." You called out. Steven turned his head and looked at you with those gorgeous eyes of his that made you feel all jittery inside.

"I was wondering if, I know we just formally met, but..." you started fidgeting with the keys in your pocket, trying to get the words to come out of your mouth, "Could we exchange numbers? I would really like to see you again, and I know this place that makes amazing pastries, so maybe... we could go out?"

That was it. You shot your shot. The ball was in his court now. There's nothing else you could've possibly done. It was only up to fate if—

"Yes, I'd love too."

Your eyes probably shot out of your face, similar to a cartoon, because of the way he looked at you, with a tiny bit sweet grin on his face. You were absolutely over the moon. He said yes! You swore you would’ve danced in the middle of the veggie aisle if it wasn’t considered something weird to do.

Still, you managed to stay calm on the outside and exchanged numbers with Steven. Finally, each one went on about their shopping. But on your way home, you couldn't help but feel butterflies in your stomach thinking about the next time you would see handsome Steven Grant again. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too long.

By the time you’d finished placing the groceries in their place, the sun had gone down, adorning your windows with London’s city lights.

You were sitting on your couch, scrolling through your social media. One of the hottest topics of the moment was the latest hero-related incident: some people started dropping dead for no reason in Cairo, which would be shocking news if the world didn’t seem like it was on the verge of ending every couple months. Apparently, a cult had been behind the attack, and there were two heroes involved. One was a woman with curly hair and her suit had golden wings, people started calling her the Scarlet Scarab, and there was this other man with moon motifs who seemed to be able to go from a full-on costume with cape to a fancy suit; people hadn’t come up for a name for him, yet. If it was up to you though, you’d call him the Moon Shifter, or something along those lines. You were glad you weren’t in charge of naming superheroes.

Tired of reading about this latest tragedy, you stood up and opened the nearest window to admire the nocturnal landscape, a cold breeze hitting your face; it felt oddly comforting. You glanced around the street. Nothing was out of the ordinary, just the usual noise of cars passing by. You felt as though the city was luring you out of your flat to go on some moonlit adventure around its streets.

You figured you wouldn’t be going on an adventure, but you sure as hell were starving and didn’t feel in the mood to cook, but there was a Chinese restaurant not far from your place you could get some takeout from. Determined to get your dinner, you grabbed your coat, a pair of shoes, your tote bag, and headed out into the windy streets.

As you were walking to the Chinese restaurant, you felt someone was staring at you from a distance. When you were about to turn around, someone on a moped snatched your tote bag from your shoulder and drove off.

“Hey!” You tried chasing the person with your belongings to no avail, they were long gone. Your first thought was to call the police, but your phone was inside your tote, along with your wallet. You scooped your faced and whined in desperation, feeling this empty hole in your chest. You figured your best course of action was continuing your trip to the restaurant and ask if you could borrow the phone to call the police, so you continued making your way to the restaurant in resignation.

CRASH!

There was a loud noise not so far from where you were. Weary of your surroundings due to what had just happened, you cautiously made your way to the noise. You poked your head towards the alley where it came from and, to your surprise, saw the same moped that had just mugged you crashed into a garbage container. The guy was in the floor, pleading for his life, and in front of him was a figure with a white cape who remained silent.

The caped person only took a step forward, retrieved a gun from his waist, directed it to the man, and said in a raspy voice:

“Mejor ruégale al diablo, pedazo de mierda”.

You covered your mouth to stifle the tiny yelp that escaped your mouth when the shot was fired. You felt the urge to throw up as you saw the man lay lifeless on the pavement.

“Ahí está, Jonsu. ¿Necesitas que me ocupe de alguien más hoy?” The man said nonchalantly to the air, as if he hadn’t just killed a man. Silence followed. Was he expecting someone to talk back to him? Then, he growled in desperation, “¿Qué? ¡Pero Harrow está muerto, tú mismo viste que lo maté!”

It seemed he’d gotten a response, but he wasn’t too happy about it. After a few moments of the wind talking to him, he turned around, looking directly at you.

Shit! You hid from him on the outer corner of the alley. You could hear his steps drawing nearer, but you stayed frozen in fear. He was probably going to kill you for what you’d just seen. Then, the footsteps stopped. You slowly opened your eyes and got a full view of the man. It was the superhero from Cairo, only his costume looked slicker, less mummy-like.

“This yours?” he asked with his thick accent, reaching your tote bag towards you. You nodded.

“Be more careful,” he warned as you grabbed your tote bag from his hands.

As soon as you had a hold of your bag, you made a run for it. After all, you’d just gotten mugged and had seen a man get shot, so you definitely weren’t going to stick around to chit-chat with the superhero in front of you. After running for a bit, you made it to the Chinese restaurant. You opened the door and slammed it shut, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Are you alright?” the person at the register asked. You made your way towards them and slumped down in the counter, head burried in your arms.

“Can I get the large combo?”

Another a/n: Tysm for reading! I am going to be working on a follow up to this fic, so look foward to that. I am planning on making this a Marc × Reader and Jake × Reader series , and maybe even add Layla into the mix because, lke I said at the beggining, I live vicariously through the fanfics I write and I am a bisexual disaster who would really like to be in a poly relationship with all of them.

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writingformyblorbos · 1 year

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THANK YOU????

this is super old idek how you found it??? but thank you so much for reading!!!

i haven’t been able to write in a while for a lot of reasons, but this reminded me some people enjoy what i write, maybe i’ll pick up writing again once i wrap up the semester

thank you so much for the reblog and the nice comments <3

It's cloudy above [part 1]

"If I were you, I'd get the sliced ones."

"Sorry?" he asked, a bit startled by the sudden comment.

He looked at you a bit confused, but you could also see a glimpse of surprise in his eyes.

"No problem," you smiled.

"Wait!" You heard from the dark-haired man, "do you happen to take Bus 24 in the mornings?"

"Uhh, yeah! Yeah, I do," you answered, nervously waiting for him to get angry.

He shook your hand back, with his big, calloused hands, "Steven Grant. The Steven is with a 'v'"

Steven. ‘A pretty name and very fitting,’ you thought. He indeed looked like a Steven.

"It's nice to finally know your name, Steven with a 'v'".

“Likewise, (y/n),” he nodded back, and you both stayed silent for a while, smiling and blushing.

"Hey! Uhm..." You called out. Steven turned his head and looked at you with those gorgeous eyes of his that made you feel all jittery inside.

That was it. You shot your shot. The ball was in his court now. There's nothing else you could've possibly done. It was only up to fate if—

"Yes, I'd love too."

By the time you’d finished placing the groceries in their place, the sun had gone down, adorning your windows with London’s city lights.

CRASH!

The caped person only took a step forward, retrieved a gun from his waist, directed it to the man, and said in a raspy voice:

“Mejor ruégale al diablo, pedazo de mierda”.

You covered your mouth to stifle the tiny yelp that escaped your mouth when the shot was fired. You felt the urge to throw up as you saw the man lay lifeless on the pavement.

It seemed he’d gotten a response, but he wasn’t too happy about it. After a few moments of the wind talking to him, he turned around, looking directly at you.

“This yours?” he asked with his thick accent, reaching your tote bag towards you. You nodded.

“Be more careful,” he warned as you grabbed your tote bag from his hands.

“Are you alright?” the person at the register asked. You made your way towards them and slumped down in the counter, head burried in your arms.

“Can I get the large combo?”

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writingformyblorbos · 2 years

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my life this week

#i- damn #hadn’t thought of it like that #anyways is this my return from my dormant state? yea #i’m almost done with that layla fic!#college has been beating the shit out of me tho so it might take a little longer

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writingformyblorbos · 2 years

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THANK YOU!!!

i think i think the only reason Jake was more that happy to kill Harrow was because after the excruciating amount of pain he’d caused the three of them, he would finally get what he deserved.

i’m so glad you liked it!!!

Si un día

Jake Lockley × gn!Reader Summary: You meet a cab driver the night you leave a relationship. Warnings: Mentions of DID, unhealthy relationships, infidelity, and canon typical violence. Not proof read. Word count: 4.5k a/n: This story is based on a poem written by Colombian author Gabriel García Márquez called "Si un día", and as soon as I read it, I just KNEW I had to write something with Jake (Let's be honest, my boo doesn't get as much love as he should). I hope this is an improvement from the mess that part 5 of ica turned out to be. I hope you enjoy this!

Si un día quieres llorar, llámame,

Heavy water drops hit against the pavement of the street and thunder could be heard in the distance. Your lack of umbrella made your dampened clothes cling onto your skin, and you could no longer tell if your face was so wet because of the rain or because of you crying non-stop.

Alone, you stood in the middle of the ruthless storm, suitcases full of your belongings right next to you, trying to fetch a cab to take you as far away as humanly possible from that place.

After what seemed like an eternity of waving your hand, one taxi driver had been decent enough to make a stop for you.

Hastily, you pulled your bags inside the car, apologizing to the driver for taking too long in doing so.

“Where can I take you?” he asked.

Where were you going? You had nowhere else to go. You had moved out of your old apartment about a year ago and had no relatives nor friends nearby to crash with.

You remained silent for a while, thinking about what your next move would be.

“Do you know any cheap hotels nearby? I need somewhere to spend the night.”

“Sure,” the driver replied and pulled out of the driveway and into the street.

Working as a cab driver, Jake had seen many people from all over the place, heard and taken part in many stories, some good, and others not so good. The usual for someone in his line of work. However, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that bad for a person.

His heart sank in his chest whenever he caught a glimpse of you through the rear-view mirror, your nose reddened, your eyes puffy, and as if it wasn’t enough for you, absolutely soaked from head to toe.

The drops of water on the window raced to the bottom in a similar fashion to the tears on your face, reflecting the lights adorning the streets as they merged into one.

You thought it to be beautiful. Two water droplets, combining in order to reach a common goal. Or was one leading the other one directly to its downfall, selfish enough to bring the other drop down with itself?

Your finger traced a droplet on the glass as it made its way to the bottom.

“Two years.”

“Excuse me?” Jake was caught off guard by your brief comment.

Normally, you wouldn’t share your problems with strangers; that was something reserved for your therapy sessions. Yet you figured bottling up your resentment and anger wouldn’t do you any good. Besides, you would most likely never see him again, right?

“I spent two years in a relationship,” you continued, “Gave up on a lot of things. Turned down so many opportunities. All in the name of keeping things afloat. To keep the relationship going.”

Jake stepped on the breaks at the sight of the red light, his brows furrowed as he paid careful attention to your words.

“And for what?” you scoffed, “To end up getting cheated on?” your voice broke while saying that last sentence.

You shook your head, disappointed of yourself. In hindsight, there had been signs of an affair. Minuscule hints. You had your suspicions; whether you hadn’t noticed or had decided to look past them, it didn’t matter anymore. Today, everything had become crystal clear. Catching them red handed was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

How could you have been so dumb? Regardless, it was far too late to regret things. Wishing to change them wouldn’t do a thing. Even if you could somehow travel back in time, the sentiment behind the cheating still stood. The need for cheating might have come from a lack of adequacy from your part.

“Maybe no matter how hard I tried, I would never be enough,” you whispered.

Jake couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of your mouth. You got cheated on and you blamed yourself for it?

He opened the glove box to reach for a box of tissues he kept for emergencies such as this one and handed them to you.

Yes, it was a small gesture, nevertheless, you lightened up a bit. He didn’t seem to be judging you either, his brown eyes staring at you understandingly.

The light turned green, the cab continuing its trajectory.

no prometo hacerte reír, pero puedo llorar contigo.

It took a while for him to break the silence, mostly because he was uncertain as to how to approach such a sensitive topic, “From what I’m hearing, you tried your best. If your partner took it for granted, then that’s on them.”

Despite his best efforts, his words came out somewhat harsh and unfiltered. Jake was a man of many skills: he was a good hitman and an even better cabbie; on the other hand, having heart-to-heart conversations with his passengers wasn’t exactly his forte.

You thought perhaps his words had some truth to them. At least, you hoped they did.

“For what it’s worth, relationships are overrated. The media paints them as something magical, but it’s all bullshit, right?” Jake chuckled. You remained silent, though. Again, his specialty was beating up guys, not comforting others.

You understood where he was coming from, and even appreciated his attempt at making you feel better, but it didn’t really fizzle out the betrayal in your gut.

“My bad, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, you’re sort of right,” you interrupted him, wiping away your tears with a tissue. “Things are a lot more complicated than what they make it out to be on tv.”

About ten minutes later, Jake parked in front to the main entrance of a hotel and exited the pilot’s seat to help you with your bags.

“It’s no fancy place. Their sheets smell kinda weird and the elevator is often out of service,” he placed the suitcase in front of him, “but compared to other hotels I’ve been at, this is the most decent one.”

“Thanks,” you replied and paid him.

Jake entered his car, relatively satisfied by knowing you would have a place to safely spend the night.

Before he left off, you knocked on the glass window of the cab, to which he lowered the window so he could hear you.

“Is there any way I can call you? You know, in case I need a ride,” you asked. He certainly didn’t expect you to ask for his contact information, especially after the comment he’d made earlier. “I’ve had my fair share of bad experiences with Uber and other apps like that, so I’d rather not risk it.”

In a way, he was honored you felt like he gave you a good enough service to merit that kind of trust. He nodded and reached for a sticky note he had on his cup holder, writing down his name and the phone number.

“Thanks for the ride,” you took the piece of paper and read the name on it, “…Jake.”

“Sure thing,” he looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to introduce yourself as well.

“(y/n).”

He tipped his flat cap, “I’ll see you around then, (y/n).”

Sí un día logras escapar, no dudes en llamarme,

Two weeks later, Jake received a call from you. He didn’t expect to hear back from you so soon. His mood had lightened up when he heard you wanted him to take you somewhere. He walked with a pep in his step and jammed out to songs on his way there. He thought if the chance arose, he could actually get to know you better. He could even ask you out?

Stop right there.

No, that would be very unsensitive on his behalf; you were fresh out of a relationship, and he had seen firsthand how sudden and awful it had been for you. He shut down the idea as soon as it had appeared on his mind.

For now, he was content with the fact that you two would see each other again, even if it was just for a ride somewhere.

Once Jake arrived, he could see you standing outside the same building he’d picked you up from the night you’d met, boxes full of your belongings on the floor.

You knew your ex wouldn’t be at home, so you’d decided to pick your things up and bring them over to your new apartment.

Though, you would have to spare the trouble of packing all of your things, since your ex seemed to have already done the job for you, apparently eager to get you out of the apartment you’d once shared. The life you’d once shared.

At the very least, you were glad things were over and you were beginning to get a hold of your life once again. You were aware it would take more than two weeks to get over your tumultuous breakup, but things were looking on the brighter side.

You waved at Jake, and he quickly exited his car to help you carry the boxes to his cab. Once you were both inside, you gave him the address of your new place and drove off.

no prometo pedirte que te quedes, pero podré escapar contigo.

The talk while on your way was much more lighthearted than when the two of you had met. You avoided at all costs talking about your ex; instead, you went on about how excited you were to move in into your new apartment, how you’d had your eye on that specific area for a while now, and most of all, how relieved you were to start from scratch.

Jake, meanwhile, listened to you with undivided attention. Even if his eyes were glued to the road ahead of him, he heard every tiny detail you had to tell him: how much you loved the view you had from the apartment, how cozy your new bedroom was, the new throw pillows you had bought for your couch.

God, he could spend the rest of the day hearing you go on and on about what made you happy, catching an occasional giggle every now and then that would play like a symphony in his ears, and still, it wouldn’t be enough for him.

It would never be enough.

You felt you had talked poor Jake’s ear off, so you considered it to only be fair to give him a chance to speak.

“I was wondering, how long have you been a cab driver?” you asked.

It was funny. Time was an odd concept for him, since having to share a body with other two individuals who would front more often than him would tend to warp his perception of it.

Jake rubbed his chin, “Too many years. But don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t change professions for anything in the world.”

He truly believed that. If it were up to him, he would break the deal with Khonshu in a heartbeat and live out the reminder of his days in peace and quiet as a cabbie. Sure, all within the limitations being part of a system entails, but he’d try to make up for all the years of wrongdoings he’d been forced to do on Khonshu’s behalf.

A smile crept up on his face at the thought of a life free from the ancient god’s grip. You, unbeknownst to what was going through his head, interpreted it as a sign of love for his profession, which compelled you to know even more of what made working as a driver so charming to Jake.

You asked him what his most interesting story in all his years of driving a cab was, and oh boy, did Jake Lockley have a repertoire of the stories from his many years of driving people around.

The rest of the ride to your new apartment was spent listening to Jake telling you the many experiences he’d had in his years of driving people around, stories of a guy who had chased a girl to the airport rom-com style, a teenage kid who had clearly had his first drink ever and threw up all over the floor of his cab, an old lady who took her four cats to the vet all at the same time and one ended up scratching Jake in the face; the list of his adventures could go on and on.

Once you were in the apartment, with some help from Jake, the last boxes were finally set inside.

What you loved the most about your new home was that it was your own. While yes, you were renting it, the only limit you had when it came to customization was money. Other than that, this had been the most you’d been able to express within a space. Tiny details scattered around were hints of what you liked, what your hobbies or interests were.

There were no more eye rolls or complaints from your ex about how or where your things were placed, or how your styles collided with each other. This was truly yours and yours only.

Rubbing off the sweat from his forehead, Jake decided it was better to not overstay his welcome.

“I should get going.”

“Wait!” you stopped him before he reached for the door. “Wouldn’t you like to stay for dinner?” he had helped you get your things from his car free of charge, it was the least you could do in return. “If you’re not busy, of course.”

You wanted him to stay? The idea didn’t quite click in his head. Most people always avoided his company; even his alters, Marc and Steven, whom had a vague acknowledgment of his existence, evaded reaching out to him like the plague for whatever reason Jake was unaware of.

What was it that you saw in him that made you actively seek out spending more time with him?

It didn’t matter to Jake, because for the first time ever, he didn’t feel so lonely in this world.

“I’d love to.”

Si un día no quieres hablar con nadie, llámame,

It had been four months since that fateful night that led you to meet Jake Lockley, your newest friend, confidant, and first choice for transportation.

In the past, he would prefer to be inside the headspace, letting Steven and Marc live out their lives happily. He enjoyed the temporary silence he could get, since most of the times he fronted, it involved dealing with the chaos of his life.

However, things had changed ever since he became friends with you. Now, he tried fronting as much as he possibly could.

After so many years of a meaningful connection with somebody else being something intangible, he finally knew what it was like to have someone else in his life. Never would he have thought he would have any friends. He wasn’t the social type, which didn’t exactly make him the best candidate for friendship.

Somehow, you managed to see the good in him, oblivious to the many atrocities he’d done. You made him a better person.

Which is why he worried as soon as he saw your text messages.

‘Can you come for me asap?’

‘Something happened’

‘I need fresh air and I don’t want to be alone.’

He felt panic brewing on his stomach when he saw those words reflected on his phone. Were you hurt? Did something happen? He had no idea, but he had to know if you were alright, right away.

By the time he got to the building, you were waiting at the foot of the stairs, just as red faced as you’d been when the two of you met. The trail of tears on your cheeks spoke a thousand words, unlike you.

Numbness spread all over your limbs. A thousand thoughts were racing in your head, yet you were unable to put them into words. Anger and misery, all mixed inside of you, overwhelming your every sense. And to think you had been the one to bring all of this upon yourself.

Against the advice of almost everyone you knew, you had decided to look through you ex’s Instagram. You had no idea why they were so adamant on you not going there. What could be so bad for them to warn you to stay away from it at all costs?

You wish you’d listened to them.

The very first post on the profile was a video of your ex, kneeling in front of the person he’d cheated on you with, holding an engagement ring.

An engagement ring.

Marriage was something you would’ve liked, yet you’d both reached an agreement that you’d never marry, since your ex despised the idea of it, even going as far as describing it as ’bureaucratic nonsense’. And you were alright with that if it meant both of you would stay together.

So much for bureaucratic nonsense now, huh?

You wanted to spill your heart out to him, tell him how everything that had happened made you upset, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to it. Even if you tried, the lump in your throat rendered your voice useless, making anything you said a garbled mess.

Jake didn’t need any words from you, however. He reached out his gloved hand and helped you get up from the stairs and to the car, one hand gently placed on your back.

Once you were both inside, he tapped the steering wheel, trying to come up with a way to get you to feel better. And then he got an idea.

There was a park he liked to go to whenever he felt stressed, melancholic, or overwhelmed in general with his emotions. More specifically, there was a spot with a bench that was mostly out of sight, surrounded by beautiful sycamore trees. His safe spot.

“I know a place. Can I take you there?”

At that very moment, you trusted Jake’s judgement with every fiber of your being. So, you nodded, willing to go wherever he took you.

estaremos en silencio.

The drive to the park was a quiet one, neither Jake nor you uttering a single word. He was desperate to know what had made you so blue, but he was aware that, at the moment, what you probably needed the most was silence.

At the park, you followed Jake through the stone path, and eventually, into a spot hidden from plain sight with a worn-out iron bench and a single streetlamp next to it. You both sat in it, taking in the nocturnal breeze that slightly swayed the tree branches.

Your lip quivered as tears fell from your eyes, feeling the cold of the autumn air on the trails your tears left behind. You wished you weren’t crying for what your ex had done, but you couldn’t help it.

The empty whole that had been left on your chest the day you left, that you had been trying to desperately fill for the past four months, became undone in a matter of seconds, your emotions flooding everything all at once.

Jake watched as you held your face in your hands, sobbing uncontrollably. It made him feel powerless to watch you suffering like this. He had no idea on how to calm you down, how to comfort you, and it tore his heart to shreds. He wanted nothing more than to share your pain, so it could be more bearable for you, but he couldn’t.

With no idea on what to do to make things better, he sheepishly placed a hand on your back, carefully rubbing and patting it. It wouldn’t make things better, but he hoped you would find comfort in his touch.

And you did. The warmth his timid hand offered grounded you back to reality, bringing you back from the pit of your thoughts, like a lifesaver tied to a rope dragging you out of the ocean, or the comfort of sitting next to a fireplace in a cold winter night.

Involuntarily, your forehead went to rest in his arm, seeking more of that solace you were urgently craving and were finding in his being.

His heart melted when he felt the weight of you leaning against him. He reciprocated wrapping his arm around your back and resting his chin on top of your head, giving you as much consolation as he possibly could.

You remained in Jake’s embrace for the rest of the night.

Pero si me llamas un día y no te contesto, ven corriendo a mí,

With the holidays just around the corner, you had brought it upon yourself to begin gift shopping for your friends and relatives. You had spent the majority of the day going from store to store, picking out the gifts for the people on your list. You glanced at it, only to see one person you hadn’t bought a gift for yet: Jake.

Since the meltdown you had at the park, the two of you had grown even closer than before. You would spend hours together, talking about whatever it was that was on either of your minds. Though he remained relatively hush about his personal life, never mentioning any family nor friends aside from you.

Amongst the few things that you had learned about him through the past months was that he liked Frank Sinatra and Pedro Infante, Gabriel García Márquez was his favorite author, and that he loved having a cup of coffee in the mornings.

So, your choices were split between a Sinatra vinyl, a beautifully illustrated collection of Garcia’s most popular books, or a stainless steel mug to keep his coffee warm in the mornings.

Unfortunately, the sun was setting in the horizon, and the weather forecast predicted heavy snowing during the evening, which meant you would have to look for Jake’s gift tomorrow.

You managed to fish out your phone from one of your pockets, despite the many bags you were carrying, to call Jake to ask him to pick you up.

After a while of waiting for him to pick up, though, you were sent to voicemail. Which was weird, seeing as he always had his phone with him and would usually answer. You tried again, thinking maybe he was busy.

Voicemail again.

Now you were beginning to worry. When it became evident that he wouldn’t pick up, you tried texting him to verify if he was alright.

'Jake?'

'Are you ok?'

'I'm worried about you.'

Radio silence.

Seeing as he wasn't going to respond anytime soon, you decided it would be best if you got a bus back to your apartment and then tried reaching out to him once more.

As soon as you arrived to your apartment, you set the bags aside and tried calling Jake again. Nothing. Another text message. Nothing. You tried looking in the news for any car accidents, silently praying you wouldn’t find anything pertaining to a taxi. Still nothing. He had truly vanished off the face of the earth. What was going on?

That was until you remembered the park Jake had taken you to that night. He mentioned something about him going there when he didn’t feel okay. If luck was on your side, maybe you would find him there, right?

With no time to waste, you geared up properly to go out into the harsh winter weather and made your way to the park.

When you arrived, you began following the path Jake had guided you through that night, which was perfectly camouflaged by a layer of fresh snow. You could see a cloud of your breath in front of you and could feel your ears starting to go numb, and still you went on with the hope of finding Jake.

Finally, you made it to the lonely bench, and that was when you saw Jake sitting there, his expression blank and his eyes watery.

"Jake?" you called out his name, and he seemed surprised by your sudden appearance. You sat down next to him, trying to read his expression.

"You shouldn't be here." He murmured.

"Why not?"

His brow furrowed and his gaze dropped to the snowy ground. "I'm no good to be around."

"What do you mean?"

He looked up at you and took a deep breath. "I'm not a good man, (y/n), I've done horrible things. Unspeakable things. I don't deserve anything."

A tear rolled down his cheek and he clasped his hands together so tight they started to tremble.

"Don't say that, Jake," you reached out to gently grab his hands with his own, "that's not true."

He shook his head. If only you knew. You were always too kind to him, and he was sure that if you ever found out about the other side of his life, you would go running the opposite direction.

The day prior, Khonshu had sent him on one of his usual missions. Nothing out of the ordinary, pulling off a hit on a local gang. Except this time, a kid spotted him while on the act.

The poor boy must’ve been 7 or 8 years old. He stood quietly as Jake was surrounded by the bodies of the people who had died by his hand. The blood of the men on the ground trickled down his tattered gloves, landing in the white snow, painting it like watercolors on a wet paper.

Pure terror emanated from his eyes as he met eyes with Jake. It didn’t matter how long the kid had been there, Jake was sure the little one would be scarred for life, and it would all be his fault.

“It was foolish of him to be there.”

Those were the only words Khonshu offered to Jake, which certainly didn’t make him feel any better.

He was exhausted of being Khonshu’s fist of vengeance. The many people he’d had to kill weighed on his conscience like heavy boulders, tearing him apart. The constant danger he lived in only made him more paranoid, doubting the intentions of anyone who ever crossed his path. He wanted out, to live a normal life, but he knew that was impossible.

And what worried him the most was that all of his actions would eventually harm you. You were one of the few good things in his life, and he would never forgive himself if something ever happened to you.

“Jake, listen to me,” you urged him to look at you, “You are a good man. Whatever it is that you've done in the past, you clearly regret it. And that's all that matters."

You reached out to gently grab his hands with his own, "You've taught me something very important in the past five months, and that is that we can't allow the past to define our present. It hurts, but we have to learn from it and keep going forward."

Jake looked up at you with misty eyes and held your face in the palm of his hand. You were truly a sight for sore eyes.

He gave you the tiniest of smiles before he leaned in and kissed you softly on the lips. A passionate kiss that told you how much he had wanted to do this all along.

Your heart melted at the feeling of Jake’s warm lips caressing yours. You pulled him in closer, and as you became lost in each other, you realized that tears were falling down his cheeks. You brushed them away with your thumbs and pulled away to kiss his nose softly.

"You're a good man, Jake. I promise."

porque sin duda, te necesitaré.

Translation of the poem: "If some day you want to cry, call me, I can't promise I'll make you laugh, but I can cry with you. If some day you manage to run away, do not hesitate to call me, I can't promise I'll ask you to stay, but I can run away with you. If some day you don't eant to talk with anyone, call me, we'll be in silence. But if you call me some day and I don't answer, come running to me, because without a doubt, I'll need you."

#i feel so rude for not having answered earlier i’m so sorry

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writingformyblorbos · 2 years

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addressing the elephant in the room

what happened which part 6 of ica? i said i was writing it, right?

and truth is, i was, but i would spend minutes staring at my screen, unsure on how to write something good. at first, i thought maybe i should switch up the begging. but after i did so, i realized the real problem was within part 5.

part 5 had been so rushed in an attempt to follow a schedule it felt… boring. it was full of telling instead of showing, and it was way too dialogue heavy.

so, what’s next?

at the moment, ica will be put on hold. that doesn’t mean i won’t continue this series, i have so many things i wanna do with it. but it does mean it will go in hiatus while i:

figure out how to fix part 5, cause there’s no way in hell i’m leaving it as it is.

structure the overall plot and how i want it to go. i may joke about ica not having an actual plot, but i’d rather not have that be the case.

get used to college. i’m already scared i won’t be able to accommodate, so i want to give myself some time to test out the waters.

for now, i’ll try writing tinier things such as “si un día”, since i really enjoyed writing something that gave me a bit more wiggle room.

i hope you guys can understand and, as always, thank you for the continuous support you’ve given me. i will always carry your nice words in my heart 🤍

#ica update

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writingformyblorbos · 2 years

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found your fanfiction from that one comment you left on tiktok

oh my, would you look at that, my actions have consequences 🤭

no but fr, welcome anon! make yourself at home. we have some instant noodles in the kitchen and a crappy couch you can lounge on. as of right now, the tv is only playing moon knight (i wonder why). i know it’s not much, but it’s honest work 😬👍

anyways, have fun looking around, and remember you’re always welcome to drop an ask by my inbox!

#anon reply

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writingformyblorbos · 2 years

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#ica part 6 looking at me like ‘don’t you dare’#and i’m just like 🙂#BUT i am in the process of writing it i promise #*sigh* that Layla fic is gonna have to wait

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writingformyblorbos · 2 years

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fanfiction is so unbelievably stupid you’ll be like oh i want to write about some finctional dudes and suddenly you’re knee deep in two hundred year old inheritance laws

#hero comes a list of things i’ve had to investigate for ica #how public transport in london works #how mushrooms are sold at tesco #how much do drinks cost in a pub in london #romanian pastries #how do bullet wounds affect the body #museums in chicago #egyptian artifacts #egyptian mythology in general #holy shit that’s a lot

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writingformyblorbos · 2 years

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#it will be out sometime next week i promise 😫#ica update

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writingformyblorbos · 2 years

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i am seriously shaking rn UHM

it makes me so happy you liked the way i portrayed Jake in the fic!! generally he’s painted like this tough macho man who kills for a thrill, but like shrek once said, people have layers, and i wanted to make sure i showed Jake as a human being who, like all of us, wants to be loved, has interests and, most importantly, can be vulnerable.

thank you so much for the kind words, they seriously mean the world to me!!!!! i am currently writing this from my grave i’m dead, you killed me with your kindness.