shamelessly reblogging myself

anonymous asked:

so I needed some good advice bc your blog is so popular!!!! I write and lately what I’ve been posting isn’t getting near as many likes as my others did. Is it the time I’m posting? I consider some of my newer posts better written and such but I am confused. Thank you for listening 😂

prime time posting is about 4 pm - 8pm (at least here, PST for me anyway!) i just post whenever and then when i notice a lot of people are on i reblog to shamelessly promo myself nfdkjfbdgj

I Will Remember You

Warning: This is very sad. If you are in need of fluff after reading, check out this, and feel better. Posting the whole thing here with a read more.

This is inspired by New Skin by @ rransom, which is lovely, and you should read it. Quick and dirty backstory: Jack has amnesia, and doesn’t remember his life with Bitty.

Like I said… It’s sad. 

AO3 link here, but please reblog if you enjoy the story, so your friends can be sad, too.

********


Jack isn’t sure what wakes him, but the sound of a low groan from the guest room where Bitty sleeps has his feet on the floor and rushing to the door before he can even really fully open his eyes. By the time he is standing in the hallway outside of Eric’s slightly ajar door, he has realized that it wasn’t a distressed sort of sound, and as Eric makes another barely audible moan, the restrained pleasure of the noise has an answering arousal thrumming through Jack’s body.

There’s something instinctive in the response of Jack’s body to Eric’s obvious arousal, but Jack can’t process that while he’s tingling all over. The guest room door is open just enough that Jack can see a small sliver of the bed where Eric is sprawled. The moonlight filtering through the window opposite the bed, and the golden glow of a nightlight from the far corner of the room cast a soft light over the light colored bed sheets.

Eric’s visible hand is grasping the sheets, clenching and unclenching in a way that makes the muscles of his forearm stand out in relief; Jack finds the display to be… enticing. For just a moment, Eric’s profile is visible; a study in shadow and light that makes Jack long for a camera before Eric rolls his head away. There’s a steady stream of little whimpers, and the strangely erotic sound of slicked up skin on skin. Jack’s brain supplies him with the image of Eric masturbating, his strong, capable fingers wrapped around a pleasantly thick and surprisingly long cock, working himself slowly, his slim hips bucking and rolling to meet his stroking hand.

Jack has to swallow a sound of his own. His fingers itch to take his own hard length in hand, but it feels ten different kinds of wrong to jerk off to the half remembered mental picture of a man he can’t remember loving. That thought makes him ache in a way he thinks he may have to become used to- perhaps that ache is the place where he keeps all his memories and love for Eric Bittle, and that’s why it hurts every time he catches the man’s eye, or his sad smile.

There’s still a buzz of want under his skin, coursing through his veins. Eric is getting closer, Jack can see it in the way he shifts, a foot and an angled knee becoming visible as Eric uses the new leverage to fuck into the tunnel of his fist with more force, faster strokes. The sounds he is making should be marketed as an aphrodisiac, Jack is certain he’s already addicted to them. The sound of Eric’s hand working himself is a wonderfully filthy counterpoint to the sweet, quiet curses and moans that fall from his lips (and oh, how Jack wishes he could see Eric’s face! Could see his parted lips as he pants into his pillow; his upturned nose pressed into his own shoulder; his impossibly long eyelashes flutter over blown-wide pupils!)

And then, Bitty comes. And Jack nearly falls over from the way his name sounds from Eric’s mouth. “Jack, fuck” quietly shouted on a soft whine of pleasure hits Jack like a full body check, and it hurts. There’s a brief moment where it’s silent, and then there is an awful, icy certainty that washes over Jack, chasing the flush of desire away more efficiently than an actual punch to the gut: Eric is not about to bask in the afterglow of orgasm, Jack just witnessed a heart breaking.

Eric curses again, and then he’s sobbing, still quiet, but Jack can see the way he trembles. There’s a muffled thud, the sound of something hard and angry hitting something overly soft and yielding; either Eric’s head or his hand, meeting a pillow with force. Eric sits up in a rush, his feet meeting the floor and his body bending in half as he cradles himself, one arm wrapping around his middle, the other supporting his head as his hand grips his hair tightly.

As Eric cries, Jack feels the ache again, something is pulling at him, at the edges of his memory. A hard surface beneath his own similarly posed body, a smaller body beside him, offering comfort. But it’s hazy and uncertain, and Jack is absolutely sure that he doesn’t know how to comfort the man in his-their-guest bedroom. The man he just spied on while he brought himself pleasure. The man who cried his name as he came, and then sobbed around the same syllable a breath later.

The man Jack wishes he could remember loving more than anything.

He backs out of the hallway as quietly as he can, guilt making him feel heavy and clumsy. He doesn’t sleep until after dawn, and the sunrise does nothing to make his room feel less empty.

******

Jack wakes after an hour or two of sleep to find himself absently petting the pillow on Eric’s side of the bed. He takes a moment to let the emptiness of the bed, of the room in general, settle over him. The previous night floods his memory a half minute later, and the ache is like a physical weight.

Keep reading

Any advice sweeties?

I have to ask you your opinion on something sweeties, I hope somebody will answer me… well, we will see… *awkward smile*

When I go biking I love to listen to DT’s sweet voice. Therefore, I often listen something with him talking. My english is now good enough for me to listen to some radio play and to understand what’s going on (yeah, I’m rather proud of that ok, thanks to DW and thanks to tumblr!).

What are your favourite radio play/audio drama (whatever is the name of these things) with David Tennant sweeties? Any advice?


Thanks a lot to anyone who will answer this.