#also i cringe every time i have to write the sentence

[therealsaintscully]

Thank you for the tag, lovely @crepesuzette2023! It's been nice to take some time to think about my fics!

How many works do you have on ao3?

20; 18 are Johnlock (BBC) and two, the most recent ones, are mclennon.

What’s your total word count?

306,378 (I was stunned to see this, I had no idea).

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

All are Johnlock: Mark Your Calendars, my beloved Erosion, Detours, Plus One and Turned - Part I : Queen and Country.

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

I try to be very good about it and respond as often as I can, but the truth is I'm a bit of an emotional wreck so when there's a rush of comments I get overwhelmed and over emotional about them, and tend to put it off for a while. I read them ALL, and I often go back and re-read them.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I had to refresh my memory but it's def Every Other Universe ("What if in every other universe John Watson leaves?"). It's one of my very earliest ones and I cringe a little reading it, but it's a very neat idea. Gretna Green Waltz, a mclennon fic, is very devastating if I may say so myself, and was written as such knowingly. It only reflects reality, though, and that's just as devastating.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

I think Mark Your Calendars has the happiest ending, judging by the numbers of kudos, but for me as the writer, the cosiest, most joy-bringing ending was that of Simon (or: Love Calls You by Your Name).

Do you write crossovers?

The sadly abandoned Turned series is a crossover with Homeland.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not hate, but some less-than-considerate "when's the next chapter???" comments. I don't bother with them.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes I do :)

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Don't think so!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I remember being asked, but I'm not sure what happened with it! Some of my fics got podficced, though: Mark Your Calendars is available as podfic, and so is I Have not Lingered (thanks to the lovely @helloliriels)

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I'm so neurotic and particular I don't think I'm cut out for that.

What's your all-time favourite ship?

Mulder and Scully are DEFINITELY the mothership and always will be. I still sigh about them in a special, exasperated way about three times a week. I'm still here with Johnlock of course, but I'm pretty sure mclennon has been in the back of my mind for decades, but I was too haunted by other ships to fall down that rabbit hole. Look at me, though, here I am.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Turned, very sadly. So much so that I've considered taking it off AO3 but I'm so proud of what I did achieve with it.

What are your writing strengths?

I think my best writing moments are the ones that hook unto my real, personal experiences, not just a general idea of life situations. Erosion is based on my own personal grief and family losses, and Gretna Green Waltz is a retelling of my biggest heartache. I have noticed readers can tell when you're really putting your heart into a story.

What are your writing weaknesses?

English isn't my first language, which means I have to rely on betas which for me sadly slows me down - I want to be able to just write them and post them otherwise I overthink. I'm also a screenwriter irl, and I noticed a pattern that is another weakness - I always have banger openings, or first acts to my stories/screenplays, but sometimes I don't know the ending and I get lost and hesitant. That's why Gretna Green Waltz was SUCH a surprise - much like Junk, the song that haunts Paul throughout the fic, came to him in one piece, GGW landed in my head as a full story. I wrote it in TWO WEEKS! That NEVER happened before!

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

It really depends on how it's done. If it's 2-3 sentences and they're simple I assume the readers will Google Translate it. Jinglebell stands out as someone who did it really well in multi-chapter fic that's all about Sherlock discovering that John is a polyglot, so it can be done well.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Johnlock (for which I started writing during covid in 2020), although as a reader it was TXF, back in in 90s and early 2000s.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

The X-Files. I've had a Scully character study in my head for years that I just can't get right.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

With Johnlock it would have to be the now-abandoned Turned, and mclennon it would be Gretna Green Waltz. I am very proud of both.

Tagging @menlove, @discordantwords, @saint-mona, @totallysilvergirl @m1ssunderstanding @slippinmickeys @kettykika78 @agrlsname @arwamachine @calaisreno @aggressivewhenstartled and anyone who sees this who wants to participate :)

[quetzalpapalotl]

In regard to IDW1!Sentinel Prime’s repulsion towards romance, I legit thought his hatred of such concepts was meant to make him homophobic or along the lines of “ugh gay people”. Was there an instance of him also hating heterosexual romance or at least all kinds as well? The more I learn about Sentinel through this blog, the more I realize I’ve been missing out on a lot of things (and the more I am going to simp for him) 💦

Well, he doesn't go out of his way to say he thinks het relationships are gross too. It's normal that his comments would reminds us of homophobia as that's a sort of equivalent in our society, that's probably what's evoking, and I do call him homophobic as a joke but homophobia is ultimately a human concept. Sentinel is not homophobic because Cybertron as a society forgot the concept of gender, everyone is male by default, the only Cybertronian women are people like Arcee who are old enough to remember when women were a thing or the lugnodes who developed a concept of gender after traveling the galaxy. Sentinel says "only the terminally sentimental had sparkmates" he's not talking about homosexual relationships, he's talking about romance itself, which is mostly homosexual due to the society they live in.

And okay, yeah, Sentinel turns out to be quite old, he would have known about women, but still, it would be really weird that his problem with romance turned out to be that it isn't straight! That makes no sense! Not only he doesn't make any comments to indicate that's the issue, but Transformers don't have any of the material conditions that led to the development of homophobia in our societies. They're not human. They wouldn't have a concept of "straight" or "gay", if they were to put social constrains on attraction or were to taxonomize it, it would be based on something that has actual bearing in their society like class or alt mode.

Indeed, Skids flirts with Firestar even when he's still getting used to use she/her pronouns, people from the colonies, who never forgot about gender, get involved in both same and different gender relationships with no issue. And the colonies retain some of the bigotries of old Cybertron. There really isn't anything in the text to support the idea that homophobia would even be a concept for these people.

So if homophobia isn't the issue, then what the fuck is Sentinel's problem?

(Mtmte #56-57)

These are the instances where Sentinel displays... amatophobia, I guess. But is this just one example of a societal trend or does Sentinel have some very radical ideas? I think it's a bit of both.

This just doesn't sound like the kind of idea one develops in a vacuum, especially with how the language resembles real-world homphobia, I think it is meant to indicate that there used to be some sort of bigotry against romance.

Cybertronian society is just not amatonormative the way ours are, Brainstorm mentions that having a conjunx is rare and that's no surpsise. These people live so long, it's quite the commitment to attach yourself to someone for that lifespan. Though, the fact that both Skids and Getaway casually flirt with Firestar right after meeting her makes me think that casual romantic dalliances among Cybertronians are a thing. It doesn't expect monogamy or the kind of prioritizing our society demands. But that's just my headcanon and me projecting a bit, anyway.

A conjunx ceremony only requires the two people to be married and is carried out in private, but the fact that Rewind has Chromedome listed as his conjunx endura and this grants him the ability to make medical decisions for an unconscious Rewind shows that you can legally register a conjunx status and this grants you special rights much like a human marriage. Now, this is under Optimus' rule who is far more chill and maybe things were different under Sentinel.

Speaking of, here's a panel of officer Orion Pax during Zeta's time asking Tappet if the guy that was killed by the police was his conjunx and that it's totally okay if that's the case because they're totally not bigots anymore (OP #1)

More evidence for amatophobia being a thing when Sentinel was Prime (and given that this is Barber instead of JRo, two writers making reference to it make it a more solid piece of lore). But when exactly did conjunx endura gained legal status instead of being just a two-people arragement? It's hard to say, it could have been under Optimus, Zeta, maybe it was a thing under Sentinel but frowned upon, maybe it had always been a thing but it got outlawed under Nominus or Sentinel before getting restored under Zeta or Orion. Since the colonies do have a concept of conjunx endura, meaning it predates Nova's rule, my guess is that this amatophobia was a later development and that conjunxes had legal status before that being removed and later restored.

That being said, Sentinel does seem... radical in his beliefs. Look how he says in his time people had "peers and colleagues, associates", that sounds kinda impersonal, he doesn't use a word like friends. Surely, even if people thought getting involved in romance was weird, the average Cybertronian wouldn't have anything against the concept of friends. Sentinel kinda sounds like those super homophobic guys who are disgusted at any level of male intimacy because that's gay. I think Sentinel is particulary opposite to interpersonal relationships and an extreme example of the normal attitude.

That still doesn't answer why is he like this tho. If I had to answer what purpose does this bigotry serve, I think it has to do with how Cybertron developed this culture of "you're all cogs in the machine" for the benefit of the ruling classes. You should serve your purpose of making Cybertron great, it's an offense that you'd choose to give your devotion to a single, common Cybertronian instead of like, the planet or a Prime (Sentinel has not problem fanboying over Onyx Prime). Look at all the things Sentinel complains about, not just conjunxes doing PDA, he has a kinda fascist idea of what Cybertron should be, nice and orderly with a disregard for differences. Transformers don't have sexual reproduction or nuclear families, so romance doesn't serve The Powers That Be in any way and is just a display of individualism.

[mxyirin]

Yandere!Gaara

warnings: yandere!gaara, younger!gaara, older!reader, female!reader, non-confirmed age gap but not the illegal kind, normal yandere themes, pronouns used are she/her, unreliable narrative so reader is referred as '[name]' or you

― 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐒

▸ There was one thing Gaara thought that he liked among the darkness.

▸It happened to be [Name], the daughter of the owner of the local florist in Suna. 

▸To the little redhead, [Name] had been light when he was shunned by everyone, even his own family, who were scared of him.

▸She was the reason he lived.

▸Offeriong him sweet candies secretly whenever she could or offering to teach him about the flowers in the shop.

▸When her parents decided to travel the world when [Name] was old enough, she took over the shop.

▸At the same time he became the Kazekage.

▸Gaara continued to woo her so that he could win her affection.

▸He didn't succeed until the tailed beast was separated from him, making him more rational.

▸Without the beast, his obsession grew but didn't leak that would make [Name] run away from him.

▸Gaara and [Name], would be forever together.

You stepped on the hard tiles of your shared home as softly as possible to not alert a certain redhead.

Only to open the door to your bedroom to see Gaara with his arms crossed.

His sea-green eyes seemed too intense as they gazed upon you, making you cringe and step back.

"Where were you?" Gaara asked, his tone was calm but underneath that facade was a possessive man who didn't want you to stay away from him. 

"You left without telling me." His tone tune accusatory making you gulp as your mind raced to what you could say to him.

"I just wanted some... some fresh air." Your voice turned timid as you finished the sentence making those cold green eyes soften to a degree.

"You know how dangerous the world is right?" When you nod, he continues: "Don't go without informing or I won't be able to protect you."

He wanted to have some ninjas guard you from the shadows but betrayal was easy, especially among humans, he thought about how his friend Naruto had summoning frogs and thought he should also do the same.

"You wanted fresh air right, let's go." Gaara dragged your body into his arms and held you close.

The relationship was nice in the beginning, you felt flattered that such a high-ranked man wanted you.

Soon, you realised that the rose too had its thorns.

You were isolated and while you were introverted in nature, it didn't mean you absolutely disliked every human interaction.

There were some people you liked but in the end, even they drifted apart because of Gaara who used all the tactics so you could only rely on him.

With everyone running away in fear, your flower shop was forced to be closed making you rely on Gaara even more now that he had the power in the monetary terms as well.

There was no space for you, you thought to yourself.

Then a hand gripped your wrist tightly making you wince.

"Who are you thinking about?" The dark undertone in Gaara's voice made you shiver and he tightened the grip on your wrist.

"No one." You replied trying to get back your wrist which was now hurting.

"Really?" 

Seeing you nod, Gaara loosened the grip on your hand and you could see the skin become bruised under the harsh grip.

The redhead clicked his tone as he gently brushed his fingers on the dark bruise on your wrist

"See, how will you live without me?"

He loved you too much, he could not let you go.

Gaara would never let you go.

character: gaara anime name: naruto requested: dinxx_vii

a/n: i was originally gonna write manipulative reader again but i felt i need to write something different this time.

[yurinaa-world]

hello!! platonic dr ratio with a teen!student reader who excels at one particular subject but is bad or average on the others? also lacks social skills

(kinda inspired by me lol 💀)

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Dr. Ratio platonic! x Gender-neutral Reader

𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with student reader who excels at one subject but is bad at the others + lacks social skills

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff and spelling mistakes, got lil personal

𝒱𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓈 𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜

He’s so strict about your grades, looking at you with disappointment as if a parent would when their child an F. What? does the information just go through and out one ear? (it does for me 😀)  Can your brain handle one sentence at a time since it doesn’t look like it to him with these embarrassing grades?

He immediately got you into summer school so you could at least try to get good at other subjects, one subject won’t get you a future. Even worse with fact you can’t even talk without staring endlessly at your paper contemplating just to ask him the most simple question.

The man knows no mercy, making you write out several essays over the whole summer but just like every teacher that wants to suck the souls from students he’ll make you plan every tad bit of detail, even refuse you from starting to write if one detail isn’t explained and well thought out enough for him.

Then oh don’t forget to make the rough draft of the essay (it’s more like writing the real essay itself with the way he’s being strict with every typo & grammar mistake, but oh don’t think you're going to get this using simple and basic words like “in conclusion.” or “well, I believe.” Throw those out the window along with every other basic sentence that people use to put up the word count or just get the whole thing over with. He isn't accepting it. No exceptions.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Blank.

You’ve been staring at the next part of your sentence but unsure how to use the word “Magnanimity”. How were you even supposed to use this in a sentence?! (he made you pick several high-level words to use in an essay), you look up to silently curse your teacher, Mr. Ratio out in your head before immediately looking back down when your eyes connect.

You begin to contemplate, that maybe jumping out the window ain’t bad, it might be your only way to get out of here. you sigh, just giving up on your constant stalling, getting up from your chair (with your paper in hand) and walking over to your teacher, dreading every step you take.

Before stopping at his desk, “Mr. Ratio, could you tell me what the definition is for magnanimity again?” He just sighs, closing up the book he always reads. (You don’t know why he always reads the same thing, it’s so boring.)

“Magnanimity means the loftiness of spirit enabling one to bear trouble calmly, to disdain meanness and pettiness, and to display a noble generosity.”

you stare at him blankly, he wasn’t kidding, he seriously expected you to know what he was saying?! “I’m sorry but what does that even mean?” you whisper your voice cracking with frustration, you just feel a blood vessel getting bigger.

He sighs once again “Showing kindness towards an enemy or you had been defeated in battle. using it in a sentence would be like he showed magnanimity towards his enemy, understand?” 

“Oh, okay. Thank you Mr. Ratio” You nod taking in his words. “Let me see your essay.” He tells you out of the blue, holding his hand out to see your paper, which makes your mouth dry. “you have something written, correct? Let me see it.”

You give him your paper and watch in nervousness before he begins to read out loud “A great man once spoke mighty wor-“ “Mr ratio please read it in your head!”  you cut him off with panic, yet what a fool you are since when was he merciful? “a great man once spoke mighty words…”

Listening to him read your essay made you cringe and close your ears. He’s the worst!

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[theycalledhimastar]

if you are comfortable with writing Nikolai :

Can you write something similar like Neithboir price but with Nikolai?

Maybe reader being IT assisnat for 141 and having their car broken ? Or reader being new 141 Solider and needing help with something in their office?

Also bonus points if reader will be masc 👉👈

>w< anon~

Aaaaack! Absolutely! I have no clue why I didn't get a notification for this, tumblr is stinky like that! Let's get some Nikolai love up in here >:3

Nikolai x M!reader (Fluff!)

(Likely inaccurate but whatever, we ball you guys)

☄. *.

Your day had already been a total shitshow, from the moment your alarm failed to wake you up. Tumbling out of bed, you already had a creeping feeling that today was going to be... a long one. Your boots just didn't feel quite right, your sleep posture probably wasn't right so now your neck was sore and stiff, and your mood was positively foul.

Morning Training wasn't any better, truth be told. You felt like a rookie all over again, practically embarrassing yourself with your clumsy performance. The fresh bruises attested to the morning's lousy work as you trudged to the showers. Where, of course the water was cold, you couldn't complain, but you wanted to.

The shitty breakfast felt worse than normal, the coffee more bitter and gritty than it was supposed to be. The coffee grinds trapped in your teeth making you cringe all through your afternoon routine. Why couldn't you catch a break? Nobody else seemed to notice what was so horrible, that only added to it all, really.

The straw that broke the camel's back, was when your computer simply refused to cooperate in the middle of your paperwork. Of course, because why the hell not? You buried your face in your hands, wanting to scream and throw the stupid device. Unfortunately, you couldn't do that, you needed it for other work matters. So you were forced to ask around to see if anyone could help you with the slow, laggy, uncooperative piece of shit.

Naturally, nobody really knew what exactly to do, offering a choir of "try turning it on and off again". That, or they just didn't care and opted to shrug off your issues. You were ready to give up, practically banging your head against the wall when a gentle hand on your shoulder interrupted your meltdown. You had seen Nikolai around base a few times, chatted a little bit here and there and you liked him well enough...

A normal amount...

Totally...

"What's wrong sergeant?"

That alone was enough to make you start ranting about the horrible day you were having. Your alarm, training, breakfast, the showers, your computer, everything that had plagued you all thrown onto the older man. Nik just took it like a champ, nodding and agreeing every couple of sentences while gently ushering you back to your office so that he could fix your "stupid computer".

"I cannot help with the coffee, that stuff is always horrible. But I know a thing or two about computers if you would like some assistance."

You stand to the side, watching Nik type over your computer. You try not to let your gaze linger too long on his dexterous fingers as they swiftly move over the keyboard. Now is definitely not the time to make things awkward, but you can't help yourself. The fatherly figure has always been your type, and that accent has become your weakness the more time you have spent around him. You knew it was futile, he probably barely noticed you. You were new to the force and barely spoke to him for fear of embarrassing yourself horrendously. But still, one could daydream.

Meanwhile, Nik was more than aware of your not-so-subtle staring. He tried to attribute it to you trying to watch what he did to try it yourself next time. But when he realized you were staring at his hands and not the screen, he knew that wasn't it. While he was flattered by a young, fresh sergeant like yourself taking such interest in himself, he wasn't going to entertain the thought himself. Problems came about when you thought too long about that kind of thing.

"Alright, that should do it I think. These things are touchy sometimes. You just have to have that magic touch I guess."

He held up his hands with a grin, turning to stand up fully from his hunched over position. The way you stared at his raised hands sending a pang of pride straight to his chest. Maybe he could entertain it a little bit...

You stumbled over yourself to thank him, offering a favor of some kind, but he just brushed it aside. Ever the generous one, he wasn't going to expect anything for some simple computer fix. You silently wished that he would have accepted, you would've had an excuse to talk to him again later on. Alas, you would simply have to gather up the courage for another time. Although, when he patted you firmly on the back to leave and get to his own work, you very quickly decided that the day wasn't so bad after all...

[dear-slim]

i just keep thinking about Eminem reacting to this new rapper girl (that he have been helping out in the music industry) and she releases a new song that is full Slim Shady Coded and he gets shock

(me & friend keeps talking abt this but we can't find anywhere a fic like itt

Warnings: swearing

Pairing: Eminem x fem!reader

A/N - MY FIRST REQUEST 😍😍 I gotchu boo, and excuse the cringe song name I made up at 10pm, half drunk and half asleep.

Also ChatGPT made these lyrics so don’t mind me

And, I wasn’t sure what you meant by slim shady coded, like, as in, something slim would sing or something related to him.

Dating another rapper wasn’t really what you expected when you joined the industry. Of course, it came with its classic ‘she’s only famous coz of Em’ bullshit, but you never paid mind to it.

Both you and your boyfriend knew perfectly well that you were a hit even before he’d entered the scene with you. All he’d done was promote your music with you, all of which was your own shit.

In his own words, he’d done nothing but be a good and supportive boyfriend, and he was right. Now, you usually ran your songs past Em, you wanted to know his thoughts and if he could make them better. After all, trust the pro, right?

But this song was a little different. You didn’t even know how you’d managed to keep it under the wraps, writing down lyrics in your notebook and staying up past when Em had fallen asleep to brainstorm lyrics.

Em was a key part of your life, he was helping your throughout the rough patches in your career, and the little surprise you’d planned was definitely something he deserved.

“Yo Em,” he heard a voice as he walked into the studio. Usually he’d hang with you, so he was pretty surprised when he heard a male voice coming from behind him, as he turned to see his long-time friend, 50.

“What’s good?” Em said, a little dazed, as he gave his friend a fist bump nonetheless. “Was just listening to some samples from your girl,” 50 explained as Em raised a brow.

“Some samples, hm? What song? She ain’t been writing one for a bit,” Em said, his eyes narrowed a little suspiciously. Em managed to catch a CD that 50 had thrust had thrust chest, as he walked over to the player, still a little bemused.

It was unlike you to keep a song hidden from him, as the tune to some song started.

Welcome to the circus, where the clowns run free,

Life’s a wicked game, and I’m holding the key.

Got the world on a string, watch the puppets dance,

In a realm of absurdity, I’ll take my chance.

Holy shit, that was crazy. He hadn’t expected a sudden change of style…and wow, it was damn hot, actually. He found his cheeks tinged a slight pink ad he thought about it, how you’d look in the studio, with the lyrics…

Yo, I’m rolling with the Shady, chaos in his eyes,

Life’s a wild ride, no need for disguise.

He’s a lyrical genius, wrapped up in a mess,

With a heart full of fire, but he’s got his stress.

He’s the king of the madness, got me feeling alive,

In a world of illusions, he’s the one who’ll survive.

With every twist and turn, I’m right by his side,

In this rollercoaster life, it’s a hell of a ride.

Em had to genuinely take out the CD, coz this was madness. He’d have never expected to see this from his girlfriend, even if you were a badass rap artist, but this was crazy. And extremely hot, at the same time.

“50! I said wait til I was here to show him,” he heard your voice as he turned round, eyes locking in yours, his lips parted in shock slightly as you flashed him a grin. “So?” you said, asking for his opinion as he spluttered, unable to formulate a sentence.

“Im taking that as a good sign,” you laughed nervously as he coughed. “A good sign?” he said, jaw going slack as he stared at you, “baby, this is amazing, this is gold!”. A proud smile jumped to your face at his words, cheeks tinged red.

“You think?” you asked a little sheepishly. “I think? No, baby, I know!” he said, hands coming to squeeze at your shoulders. This was gonna be a damn hit, and he was not complaining. Simply, just, further proof his girl deserved to be in the game.

[pokechbi]

hi love! would you be able to write a request for ghost x psychiatrist!femreader 👀 who works with task force 141 but she spends her sessions with ghost who always ends up fucking her 😈 (highly unprofessional ik but she melts for him )

also i LOVE your work sm, can I be 🧠 anon?🥺

i have risen :3

Got this idea from this lovely anon <33 tysm!!! Much luv to u bb!! Happy to say that I am making this one a continuing story!!! (dw i havent forgotten ab the other ones lol)

Healing Simon (chapter 1)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem Reader

NSFW!! MDNI

Fem reader, fem anatomy used

WC: 1.2K

Enjoy <33

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚

“As for your past, Lieutenant, we’ll be sure to discuss that when you’re ready. If you’re ever ready. Not that there’s anything wrong with wanting to keep it private. Sometimes, there are things we must keep to ourselves no matter what. You don’t owe me, or anyone else an explanation.” You end your sentence calmly, knowing you had the tendency to ramble. Sometimes your clients didn’t need to hear it all at once. It’s how you kept them coming back. How you kept him coming back. 

He looks past your shoulders, out of the window behind you. Your clients had the tendency to do so, since the view from the window was mesmerizing. You folded your legs, gently swinging your leg over the other and feeling the leather of the chair peel away from your thigh. You looked behind you, glancing in the same direction he was looking. The tall trees swayed in the fall wind, moving in unison as if to purposely entrance their observers. You felt weirdly jealous of them at times. They seemed to be more therapeutic to your clients than you were. You keep your eyes on him, hearing his breaths behind his balaclava ever so slightly. Deep, balanced and even. He was stoic in all the right ways, his expression never changing. You look downwards, observing the way his jacket hugs his muscles in all the right places. You take in his broad shoulders and chest, a slight heat simmering at your ears. Your eyes flutter upwards once again, noticing the sliver of skin on his neck peeking out from the gap between his balaclava and his jacket collar. You also notice the slight glint of his dog tag chain shining in the light coming from the window. Looking up at his eyes once again, you almost jump as you realize they’re on you. His stare is heavy, weighing your words back down your throat. 

You smile sweetly, capping your pen and sticking it inside your notebook, setting it on the small end table beside you. 

“Simon, our time is nearly up for today. Went by fast didn’t it?” You ask, trying to stir his attention away from the fact that he just caught you checking him out. You cringe internally, wondering if he’ll bring it up or not. 

“Yeah, it did.” His gruff voice comes out almost a whisper. His accent soft on your ears, his eyes seemingly peeling away at every layer of you each time he looked at you. His eyes flit down to your legs, and back up to your face. You smile at him, your heart doing somersaults in your chest as you fidget with your fingers. He stands suddenly, starting his walk to the door. You stand as well, slowly trailing behind him. The smell of him wafts into your nose. It was intoxicating. Addicting, even. A mix of settled cologne, the familiar scent of his laundry detergent mixing with his musky body odor. The smell of him took you by the throat and forced its way into your subconscious. You craved that smell, the manly, homely smell of him. 

He stops at the door, looking down at you. His height was significantly higher than yours, your head only reaching to his shoulder. You look up at him through your lashes, placing your hand on his back and rubbing ever so slightly. The muscles tense under your touch, but he doesn’t move. Not an inch. Your mind betrays you, the thought of what his skin might feel like under your nails as he split you open races through your head. 

“You did great today, Simon.” You say softly, giving him a reassuring pat on his back. His eyes flit between yours before he starts out of the door again. 

“Same time next week, love?” He asks. He had such a smug way of speaking. Such a smug way of making you weak in the knees without even touching you. And he knew it. You nod at him, smiling sweetly as you shut the door to your office. Placing your back on the door, you run your hands through your hair, hearing his footsteps fade down the hall towards the elevator. 

You walk over to your desk and sit down. The chair creaks under you, the silence of the office driving you insane. Your head raced with thoughts. All about him.

No one in the psychiatry ward had managed to keep consistent appointments with the Lieutenant. He was a hard nut to crack. The hardest you’d ever attempted. You were getting there, slowly but surely. People swarmed you with questions in the office, everywhere you went. 

“What does he talk about?” 

“How come he doesn’t talk with anyone else?”“Does he tell you anything about the missions?” 

“Have you seen his face?” 

“Doesn’t he scare you?” 

“Can you get his number for me?” 

Questions ranged from pure curiosity, to just downright trying to break patient-confidentiality. It pissed you off. They acted as if he were untouchable. Unlovable. All he needed was to be humanized. You couldn’t imagine how tired he was of his reputation around the base. Never being treated as a normal soldier. Not that he was a normal soldier, anyway. He had earned his rep. But you kept that to yourself. 

When his captain showed up in your office, slamming his file on your desk and begging you to make it work, you knew you had to. Price sat across from you, frustrated and scared of losing his best soldier. Not to war, or battle, but to his own mind. Simon had a nasty habit of bottling things up. Letting his thoughts get the best of him and letting them chip away at his sanity until he broke. He holed himself up, letting his trauma dictate who he was not only as a soldier, but as a person.

You hadn’t quite managed to persuade him into unpacking his past just yet. It seemed like an unattainable milestone some days, but others, you came mighty close to it. You spoke to Simon as a friend, not just as his psychiatrist. Each visit, you felt closer and closer to him. To his mind. 

As a professional, you knew it would be wrong to take your relationship outside of the two chairs he came to sit in once a week. You thought about him every time you had a quiet moment to yourself. It was becoming something you couldn’t control. It had gone to stealing glances, to unknowingly checking him out any chance you could get. He’d catch you every time, yet never said anything about it. 

But he kept coming back, right? The thought made your heart leap in your chest. 

[witchersoldier]

Good Fucking Girl

rafe cameron x reader

SUMMARY: you find yourself inside the globe of death with none other than Rafe Cameron.

WARNINGS: mentions of drug use I guess, cursing, suggestive themes, a little dark I think but not really, cringe and rushed writing, not proofread. English is not my mother tongue.

WORD COUNT: 1.0k

AUTHORS NOTE: once again posting just after just finishing it. I never double read my work, or else I'd never post anything bc I'd probably hate delete it and never write again.

It was supposed to be a simple kook party, well, as simple as those went. But now I found myself inside a large metal globe, curiosity, and a bit of a haze from the pot brownie I had few minutes ago, led the way. A crowd slowly started to form outside the cage, faces I didn’t recognize were filled with excitement.

“Great, the substitute’s already here. Cameron, you’re in now.” The guy just beside the globe door spoke. Before I could say anything back, engine revving filled my ears and a sudden rush of adrenaline took over me. Globe of Death, that’s what this was. How come I didn’t recognize it sooner? They thought I was some kind of substitute, but for what? I had no bike nor was I dressed as a stunt rider.

Faster than my eyes could register, a red bike pulled up beside me inside the globe. He wasn’t showing any skin, yet he looked so damn delicious. Those black and red leathers clung around his larger body, the helmet with dark visors gave him such a mysterious look. He just stood there, tall and confident, making me feel smaller and fragile.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” he spat at me, voice muffled. His hand flew to his visors pulling them up, revealing his ocean blue eyes. There was a hint of worry and anger, the latter was clearly not directed at me. I was stuck in place, trying to put together the pieces, his eyes and voice all too familiar. “Rafe?” my heart started racing, beating against my chest, so loud.

Fate was always bringing me to him, in the most unusual ways. Now this?

“Y/N get out of here now; you could get seriously hurt.” He looked down at me, commanding me to leave. Part of me felt scared and wanted to leave and obey him right now, but the need to defy him spoke so much louder inside of me. I didn’t have to prove him anything, but every time the Cameron boy was around me, I felt the undying urge to test his patience. Also, I could never let him see the power he has over me. “I’ll do what I please. And right now, I really feel like staying.” I raised my chin, looking deep into his eyes. Challenging him.

He only clenched his fist over his lap and chock his head, as if trying to get rid of his thoughts. Then again, strangely calm, he looked at me. “Fine. You want to do this? You got it. But if I see even one little hint of fear in you-” he didn’t finish his sentence, leaving it to my imagination. It was what he didn’t say that hit something deep inside of me, it made me feel hotness all over my body.

Rafe abruptly grabbed my wrists and put my arms above my head, making my red crop top ride up until it was barely covering my breasts. “Be a good girl for me and keep your arms up just like that, will ya?” Rafe’s voice was low as he gave me the order, his hand that was holding my arms up slowly traced down my body, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. When he reached the hem of my black skater skirt, he gave a barely-there squeeze and quickly put down his helmet visors. He revved his engine again, the vibration traveling through my body.

The crowd outside the cage was screaming, cheering. My friends probably somewhere looking at me, wondering ‘what the hell’s gotten into me’. The answer was right here inside the globe with me. Rafe Cameron. He’s got the talent of always getting under my skin, making me feel things no one else ever could, making me do things I normally wouldn’t, no matter how hard I tried to deny it, fight against it. That’s just the Rafe Cameron effect; he brings out parts of me that have always been there, just never stimulated enough.

And then the show began. Rafe started to make circles around me in his bike, going so fast I could barely make out his silhouette. The fear I felt before vanished so fast, in its place a feeling I didn’t think would make its way into this situation; arousal.

Rafe’s gloved hand touched the exposed skin on my waist, and he dragged it along as he kept circling around on his bike. My whole body felt like it was on fire, burning so hot, and the blood rushed to my core making me throb and clench around nothing, my body was betraying my mind. I wouldn’t be able to confront, deny Rafe after this, I’ll just be putty in his hands.

I don’t know if it was seconds, minutes or hours that passed by since he started touching me, but as soon as his hands left it was like the ground beneath my feet was disappearing too. I looked up to see Rafe taking of his helmet, still riding his bike around. His bangs hanging loosely on his forehead. He looked so heavenly right now, and I understood then when people said ‘looks can be deceiving’. No matter how angelic he’s looking now, Rafe Cameron’s the devil walking on Earth.

He handed his helmet for me to hold while he gave the final laps, and I held onto it like it was the only thing keeping me alive. At the moment, that’s what it felt like.

I only noticed the show was done when Rafe’s now bare hand touched my ass under my skirt. I couldn’t even fight it, his touch felt so fucking right, even with all those prying eyes around. If I was honest, the people watching us exchanging touches only made my body burn hotter.

His free hand came up to my jaw, forcing me to look into his eyes. Dilated pupils gave him away. He was just as turned on as me. I forced my head down to glance at his trousers; they looked so much tighter than before and made me think of how much I wanted to just sit on his lap and grind against him, right here and now.

Rafe forced my head back up, his face coming closer to mine. His lips were mere inches away from touching mine. He breathed out a low moan that sent shivers down my spine. His lips softly touched mine, just a ghost of a kiss, and he whispered to me approvingly, “Good fucking girl”.

[bookskeepers]

third time's the charm ♡ chapter five

content warnings: light, awkward, both of them don't really know how to talk to people, reader makes a tiktok reference, abs, bra mentioned, no nsfw, tsukishima might be ooc sorry lol

word count: 1,646

a/n: i am running out of gifs. also sorry if my writing feels british my internal monologue is the same voice as baldur's gate 3's narrator 💔

also sorry this took so long ? it sat in my drafts for a week holy shit

taglist: @wakashudou

previous ♡ masterlist ♡ next

Tsukishima Kei has three rules he follows when he's hooking up with someone.

1. Keep all communication to Tinder.

2. No dilly dallying.

3. Do not stay the night.

Of course, rule 2 had some exceptions -- occasionally he'd watch a movie to lead up to the act, but no more than that. He views hookups as a business transaction: get the goods and dip. Luckily, both sides (usually) benefit.

♡*•.¸♡¸.•*♡*•.¸♡¸.•*♡*•.¸♡¸.•*♡*•.¸♡¸.•*♡*•.¸♡¸.•*♡*•.¸♡¸.•*♡*•.¸♡¸.•*♡

He hadn't intended to stay the night at all after your romp together. He meant to help you back into your underwear, maybe cuddle for a few minutes, and then leave. But with the way your head rests against his chest, and with how comfortable you look, how is he supposed to say no?

Your hair is splayed out around you, strands tickling his skin. He finds himself absentmindedly tracing patterns on your near-bare back with his fingers as he scrolls through his phone with his free hand, willing exhaustion to hit. Your dorm bed, despite being the same as literally every other dorm bed, is somehow comfier than his own. Maybe it's because he's sharing it with you, although he's not sure.

More often than once, he catches himself observing your sleeping form. Your head is on his chest, your torso turned so that your boobs are pressed against his own torso. He can feel the silky material of your bra against him, and he wonders if you're uncomfortable. It looks like the wire's digging into your skin from his vantage point. One leg overlaps his own while the other remains straight on the mattress, and the arm he can see is splayed out on his ribs. He watches as your chest rises and falls slowly, the pattern of your breathing steady in your sleep.

"You fell asleep so quickly," he mumbles out loud, impressed. Part of him thinks you're a little stupid; who would let someone they just met stay the night? And why would you fall asleep so quickly on a stranger?

Another part of him finds it endearing, though. To be instantly trusted by someone in such a vulnerable state... it's not a feeling he's used to.

None of what just happened was what he was used to.

Sex is a fickle thing, he thinks. He has his own experience with it, most of it involving smooth R&B playing in the background, the music intermingling with the sound of skin-on-skin and feminine -- and occasionally masculine -- moans. It's never been without music, and there's never been conversation when the act's actually started.

He enjoyed the conversation, though. Listening to you try to form sentences while he went down on you was erotic in its own way. Maybe it was the teasing nature of it, or the way you'd gasp and fall silent, head thrown back in pleasure, before struggling to gather your thoughts and continue.

He finds that his eyes are drifting shut despite trying to keep them open, that he's playing with something very dangerous. After all, he thinks it wouldn't be too hard to get addicted to this: laying in a twin XL-sized bed that's too small for two people with you using him as a mattress more than you're using the actual mattress. The weight of you on his body is more comfortable than he'd ever admit to anyone, and your mannerisms and personality have already been etched into his brain. You're different.

The thought snaps him out of his reverie and he physically cringes. He doesn't think you're the kind of person who'd enjoy being told, "You're not like other people." In fact, he thinks you'd probably smack him, although he doesn't know you nearly well enough to be confident in this assumption (but he's right. You would smack him, only because you take comfort in knowing there are other people who are as weird as you, if not weirder).

When his eyes open again, sunlight is streaming through the window on the far side of the room. At some point during the night, you must've gotten up to put on a shirt -- his shirt, he realizes with a jolt -- because you're no longer laying against him bare-chested, instead now clad in a loose, black tee. He fumbles around for his phone, discovering it underneath his ass. He taps on the screen a few times, watching as it lights up with a photo of him and his volleyball club from high school. The time reads 10:32am, and you're out like a light. No one ever said sex wasn't tiring, though.

His movements must be disturbing your slumber, because you shift in your sleep. One of your legs ends up fully over him while his free arm ends up trapped between your body and his. You sure know how to make yourself comfortable, he thinks.

Slowly, delicately, he extricates himself from your hold, each move calculated as not to disturb your slumber. After all, he hadn't intended to stay the night -- vague memories of the mild shock on your face after you asked makes him think you hadn't originally intended to ask, either.

He pulls his pants on before remembering that there's a bit of a dilemma. You're wearing the shirt he came with, and he half-heartedly wonders if anyone's out and about on campus on a Saturday mid-morning. It's not that he's embarrassed of how he looks, he would just much rather be able to blend into the crowd with ease. Being shirtless would prevent that, probably.

If he was wearing athletic shorts, on the other hand, he could pretend he was going on a run. Alas, he wore jeans to your dorm. It seems his options were either leave and demand you return his shirt via Tinder, or--

"Where're you going?"

Your sleep-tinged voice cuts through his thought process, and he snaps his head up to look at you. It seems his movements were not calculated enough, since you're now awake. He watches as you blink sleep from your eyes, turning onto your back to stretch your limbs out in all directions with a quiet groan. You sit up in the bed, glancing from him to the shirt you're wearing. "This isn't mine," you say at last.

He lets out a slight chuckle. "No, that's mine. You must've put it on during the night. And I was just heading out, actually."

You let out a gasp, clapping your hands over your heart. "Without even saying goodbye? How cold. How cruel, Tsukishima. I'm heartbroken." Your tone is light, teasing; he can't help but smile in response.

"You were sound asleep. I didn't wanna disturb you." His eyes trail over your body, hidden by a combination of his tee and the blanket that's draped haphazardly over your form.

You raise one eyebrow at him, a devious look in your eyes. "So you were just gonna leave my dorm without a shirt on?"

"Was hoping I could pass as someone going for a morning jog."

"In jeans?"

He falls silent at that, because how could he refute those words? You were just voicing his internal argument, anyways. He lets out a huff and sits on the edge of your bed, taking care to avoid squashing your feet under the blanket. "You have a good point," he finally mutters. He's not sure why he feels embarrassed, but he can feel the tips of his ears heat up as a blush begins to crawl down his features.

"I make those sometimes," you say. He glances at you and catches you looking away from his torso, your cheeks now dusted with the color of shame from being caught in the act. He lets out another chuckle.

"You can look, you know. It's not like I'm actively trying to hide it."

Your response to that is to fish out a pair of sunglasses from your nightside table and put them on before shifting your body to face him. You lean closer to his torso, remarking, "Sunglasses are so great because no one can tell where I'm looking," before straightening up and taking the accessory off. "Sorry. Got struck by divine inspiration for that one."

He just shakes his head, a look of feigned annoyance passing on his features, before he holds his hand out. "Can I have my shirt back now?"

You let out a sigh, rolling your eyes. "I guess." With swift movements, his shirt is off your body and in his hand, exposing your bra -- and upper body -- to the elements. Now it's his turn to stare, and he does so without shame.

"You literally saw all of this last night," you state after a brief period of quiet. That snaps Tsukishima out of his reverie, and he puts his shirt on.

"Yeah? You saw all of this--" he gestures to his now-clothed torso, "--last night too."

"Touché."

The silence returns as he stands and shuffles about the room, seemingly aimless in his wandering. This time, it's tinged with an undercurrent of awkwardness, as if neither of you are sure about what to say next. Finally, he relents: "I'm gonna go now."

"Sounds good!" is your automatic reply, and he watches as you immediately facepalm. "Not good as in, you suck get out, good as in, go live your life, I swear."

"Haha, I got it, no worries."

And with that, he's out the door, the image of you shirtless in your own bed seared into his retinas.

Another round wouldn't hurt, right? is all he's thinking about as he walks back to his own dorm, trying to mathematically calculate how much time should pass before he reaches out to you again. Because you, as a person, seem to have him hooked with your charm and your appeal.

Besides, he's already broken one rule with you -- what's the harm in breaking the other two?

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

would you have any small writing tips to share with others who are attempting to write their own stories?

Sure.

Disclaimer: This is not a full on tutorial on how to write. These are just tiny, tiny little grains of wisdom of things I realized here and there. Do not eat this advice like a full course meal. It isn't one. It's just a dusting of some spices, and I am salt bae-ing them over you, but they are not calorically relevant without a story.

1. Help your readers read your story.

AKA: If you want your readers to build a house, you better take them to a Home Depot and teach them how to use a screwdriver first.

You want your readers to read your story easily? You gotta make your story easy to read. That means learning how to make sentences easier to understand. That means breaking up walls of text into smaller bites. That means - yes - spelling words consistently and using accessible (not Correct, necessarily, but ACCESSIBLE) grammar!

You want your readers to understand your world? You gotta give your readers tools to understand it with. That means explaining new concepts! That means describing stuff a lot! That means using visual language if you don't have actual visuals!

Your readers will not read your mind to know what you MEANT to say. You have to say what you mean. You have to mean what you write. Learn to write clearly. Learn to help your readers.

2. Something that takes you a month to make will take your audience ten minutes to read.

You want to spend an hour drawing one comic panel? Great. You wanna spend an hour writing a single paragraph? Fantastic. You wanna use up a week perfecting a script? Amazing!

Your readers will still glance at that panel for a second before moving on. Your readers will still eat that paragraph in a bite. Your readers will skim that script. If you're lucky.

You cannot control how much your work is appreciated. But you CAN control how much of your time you sacrifice to make it.

Balance the scales.

3. You are not talented.

Neither am I. Nor are any of us.

Listen to me. Listen.

Talent is a beautiful, useful word. But it often lies to us. It suggests that we are born better than others.

This is not often accurate. What talent hides within itself is not pre-ordained inherent skill. It is not something you are birthed being. It is not a statistical difference of physicality.

Talent starts with passion.

Maybe you have passion for stories - so you beg your grandfather to read to you before you can recognize words, and you write a lot in every school assignment, and you pay attention to EVERY story you watch in school plays, and you observe all the characters you see in movies, and you CARE. So. Much. And this moves you to try to write, and then to try again, and then to try harder.

Talent does not exist, because no amount of 'you were made for running' can make you run. No amount of 'you were the son of great authors' can make you write.

But inherent curiosity can push you forward. Inherent curiosity can make you watch, and observe, even before you understand you are observing. Inherent curiosity for your personal interests makes you a fan of writing, of drawing, of world-building. It makes you research how to be a great author before you even know what research is. It auto-tunes you to what you know is good about these things, and it gives you the necessary tools to know what will work and what won't.

So when you think you are talented, understand that this is not something that was done to you in the womb. It was something you raised, and watered like a seed, before you even knew what you were growing.

Don't rely on talent. Understand that you got this far because you CARE about this thing. And don't forget to care. Because that's what has carried you this far, and it is the only thing that can carry you even farther.

also, cringe is dead.

[olderthannetfic]

"Boyfriends" Imo, is a perfect example of the stupid fucking infighting in queer and "progressive" spaces. Yes yes, the homophobes and transphobes are also there, and some of them are in the perviously mentioned groups, but that's par for the course. It's just a lot more bullshit when the call(out) come from within the house. NGL I also thought it was a bit cringe, but who the fuck cares? I make a joke and move on, it ain't for me, done deal. He who has not posted cringe throweth the first stone or some shit. All in all it's probably one of the safest gay poly depictions, like... you literally have the archetypes of every boy protagonist group, smart, edgy, jock, rich kid. It's a huge fucking nothing burger, there's nothing there to actually be offensive, and yet people treat it like it's on the same level as some queer bashing anti-queer conversion therapy booklet.

But what I have noticed is that at large queer and progressive spaces fucking hate it when someone from within gets successful. Crabs in a fucking bucket my man, you can write shit as gay as you want, but don't get too big, we're going to shot you in the knee.

Weird thing is that you can basically know who's gonna get the most shit for getting big. A creator who only wants to draw their shit and have a good time? Right to the chopping block. You shall be sentenced for the crime of being chill and gay or whatever.

Some querulous* asshole, who shits on everyone else but does it with the "correct activism" voice? The Gods shall bow before you. Yeah these people might get their comeuppance but at large it doesn't devolve into as harsh hatred as with the former. Like, they can even be racist or queerphobic on main, and at most it gets a bit of an outcry, but that's it.

It's as if the act of just wanting to have a good time while being queer is a crime worthy of death.

Boyfriends is so fucking lukewarm on the "problematic" scale, I had to dig a hole to even get it on there. From 1-10, it's like a -20. And for what? Nothing. It's like a shoujo harem without the girl.

*My teacher used to call a student that. Basically someone who constantly complains and makes trouble and is kinda crabby. I just like the word, it's fun.

--

Should I be peeved that you think I don't know what 'querulous' means? ;D

[staybabblingbaby]

Soulmate Garden AU Ch.1 (Dahlia) a2 d5

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Growing up, you knew Soulmates weren't all that they cracked up to be. So when, on your 18th birthday, your skin is painted with a garden of flower buds, you resolve to hide it from everyone. Who had ever heard of someone with 8 soulmates, anyway?

Or; Reader has 8 soulmates and no issue avoiding all of them. It's up to SKZ to show her that while every soulbond might not be made of fairy tales, theirs certainly could be.

Word Count: 5,368

Notes: My friend Tiny said this was very Wattpad era of me, so I'm so sorry that I'm cringe, guys. She also said she loved it and I am also p satisfied w it, so. Celebrations! It's also fucking long for me, like damn. Chill. I do have some disclaimers abt this tho. 1) I have never been to a k-pop concert, I am doing my best working off of what videos, vlogs, blogs, and Quora and Reddit answers for this. I'm very sorry if it's horribly inaccurate. Also it's idealized so it'd gonna be inaccurate 2) Covid never happened in this universe! Send-offs for everyone!

Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: She/Her Reader, sort of dissociating? ish?

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist <3 | Prev Part | Next Part

“Yes, Ma, I promise I’m doing just fine,” You grunt into your phone, tucking the device between your cheek and shoulder as you juggle your groceries and try to dig out your keys, “No one has tried to mug me, I’m eating well, and the job is the same as the last time you called.”

You manage to both open your door and kick it shut as your mother replies, “I just worry about you dear. You’re so far away from us now, what if you need help?”

You waddle to your kitchen counter to offload your burdens, stretching your cramping fingers out as you go to properly hold your phone again.

“I know, Ma, but I’m sure I’ll make some friends with time and then they can help me out.” you finally reply with a sigh. You begin the arduous task of actually putting your groceries away, resigned to the fate of a functional adult.

You hear your sister bark out a laugh in the background. It’s possibly about hearing ‘you’ and ‘friends’ in the same sentence (Which, ouch. True, but ouch). You magnanimously ignore her.

“Honey, I love you, but it’s been almost a year. You have yet to tell me about a single friend.” Your Mom retorts. Again, ouch.

“I have Taylor!” You defend, slamming your fridge shut with a pout.

“Your roommate doesn’t count!” Your little sister taunts from the background. You hear your mother shush her but her agreement is implied when she doesn’t correct the little gremlin.

“He so does!” You argue, “We hang out in contexts that are not work or school, we eat meals together, and we’re even going to a concert this weekend! That’s friends! That’s best friends, even.” You sound a bit pathetic even to yourself, but the day your sister wins over you is the day you die.

“That’s a friendly roommate,” Is your sister’s amused response, “I bet you don’t even know what his favorite color is.” Your silence is answer enough, and she cracks up, laughing so hard that you hear a muted thump as she falls off of whatever furniture she’d been occupying.

Guess you’re dying today.

Your mother changes the subject to the goings-on of your hometown while your sister asphyxiates in the background. You’ve only been away for a little under a year now, but as you listen to her talk about which of your littlest cousins are starting school and which of your relatives are causing drama, you realize that it’s already been a little under a year.

You flop onto your couch as your mom babbles away, holding back an existential crisis.

Your fingers begin tracing the long-since memorized lines of your soulmark over your clothes as you ponder the passing of time, fully zoned out of your mother’s gossip. Your sister seems to catch on to your long silence, interrupting you mother to pester you into giving her more material to taunt you over.

“What concert are you going to, anyway?” She questions.

“Oh, it’s a K-Pop group called Stray Kids,” You tell her. You can practically feel her interest shrivel up and die as soon as you say K-Pop, bless her elitist, snobby, little heart. “Taylor likes them a lot, and his boyfriend dumped him last month, so I got some good tickets to cheer him up.”

Your mother coos at you briefly before your sister overtakes the conversation again, “Are they even good?” You can hear the sneer in her voice as she falls into Music Snob (tm) mode, so you roll your eyes when you reply.

“They’re fun to dance to when I’m doing chores, so that’s good enough for me.”

“You can’t even understand them.” She complains.

“I can, actually.” You inform her primly, “My language elective was Korean. I took the whole course.”

“You’re a weirdo.”

“Tell that to my sweet, sweet, degree, kiddo.” It’s finally your turn to taunt.

“Whatever, you’re not even going with a friend, just your roommate. How fun could it be?” She pouts back.

“I told you, we are friends! Best friends, even!”

“You still don’t know his favorite color.” She retorts smugly.

“I know his favorite flower, that’s gotta count for something!” Your mother hums in agreement, and you picture her watching your bickering like a tennis match, assigning points in her head.

“It doesn’t, because you know everyone’s favorite flower! You know the mail guy’s favorite flower! It’s like an obsession.” You picture your sister rolling her eyes at you, exasperation pouring off of her. The image makes you grin as you reply.

“Only if it’s still Jim. I haven’t been around to ask anyone new.” You point out. Reasonably, you think, but for some reason your sister lets out a loud groan of annoyance and you hear her exaggerated stomps ass she removes herself from your presence. Your mother lets out an amused little huff and you imagine you’ve won the tennis match in her head.

No death for you today. Score!

Your mom yaps with you for a little longer, before finally bidding you farewell, telling you that you should call more often (like you don’t chat literally every Friday afternoon like clockwork), tell your dad to come home soon if you happen to call him (you won’t. He won’t either), and tell her all about how the concert goes next week. You promise to do that one easily.

When she hangs up, you’re left with the ringing silence of an empty apartment. Moving to LA has been a quieter experience than you’re used to in general, for many reasons. Sure, the city itself is louder than your little suburb by miles, but life has been... More peaceful, since. Quieter.

It still makes you uneasy, even 10 months later.

You get up from the couch and drift off to your room like a ghost, opening Spotify on your way. The opening notes of Ruth B’s Lost Boy and a something nauseous swirling in your gut is all that follows you.

On concert morning, you’re woken up bright and early by your air-horn of a roommate slamming your door open.

“Concert daaaaaaaaay~” He trills at you from the doorway. You don’t even open your eyes when you roll over and throw a pillow at him in protest. A soft ‘oof’ tells you that you hit your mark for once. Nice.

“Nice shot!” Taylor cheers, “But now I have your ammo, so it’s up time.”

You roll over again, taking the edge of your blanket with you and tossing it over your head. You pull a stuffed animal under with you, and curl tightly around it.

“Nmf gmf.” You grumble at him through a mouthful of fluff.

“Nuh-uh!” Taylor tuts, already fluent in Morning Grumble, “We gotta get up. There’s food to be eaten, outfits to put on, and lines to beat!”

You let out a long, agonized, groan, but obligingly roll over and starfish out with childish protest. Taylor waits until you open your eyes to glare at his annoyingly cheerful blond bedhead before he leaves your doorway with a sunny smile. Smug bastard.

He leaves your door open too, the shit, allowing the sweet smell of french toast and eggs to drift into your room. You sit up with a whiney groan, scrubbing harshly at your face.

You’d forgive him this time. Just for the french toast.

You lean over to grab your phone from your bedside table, just waking the screen to check the time. When the numbers register you lay right the way back down with another long wail of protest.

Four in the morning. That french toast had better be fucking good.

You eventually stumble into the kitchen and are promptly handed a very large and very welcomed cup of coffee. Taylor hands you a plate piled high with french toast and eggs, fruits and toppings already out, before you can even try to start bitching at him.

You take in the spread with a furrowed brow, before slowly lifting your head to pin Taylor with a suspicious stare.

“My dude, it is four in the morning. How?”

Taylor just shrugs at you. “Couldn’t sleep. Too excited.”

You nod slowly at him. “I’ll drive. You’re napping in the car.”

This triggers a round of outraged whining from your sleep-deprived roommate, which you cull by pointing out that headaches and concerts are an awful combo. He subsides but insists he’ll be even more excited in the car, since it’s closer to concert time. You tell him to do it anyway.

“Why are we up so early in the first place?” You complain as you drain the last dregs of your drink. “The concert isn’t for, like, fifteen hours.”

“The concert is only fifteen hours away! Countdowns have already started, mark my words!” Taylor counters, “You got us Soundcheck tickets! VIP! We have to take advantage! I want the entire experience. Freebies, insane merch lines, sponsor booths, everything.” He gets more and more incensed as he goes on, leaning farther over the table, his shirt almost dragging in the puddles of syrup on his plate.

You raise your hands in surrender to his wild-eyed look. “Whatever,” You concede, “You’re the boss, this is your day.”

Taylor nods in satisfaction, leaning back. You notice that he actually does take some syrup with him as he re-seats himself. “As it should be.” Is his prim reply.

You sort of just laugh at him, and your routine of friendly bickering continues as the two of you make quick work of fixing up the kitchen.

You two split off to get ready, Taylor demanding a leave time of 6am sharp. You do your best to appease him, dressing up enough to say you put effort in, but paying mind to comfort over style. You’re putting the last touches on your eye liner when Taylor barges in.

You give him a stink eye for not knocking, which he blissfully ignores as he looks over you top to bottom. He summarily declares you “Good, but not good enough” and stampedes over to raid your closet.

At this point in your cohabitation you’ve learned to just let him do his thing when he gets like this. He doesn’t let you dress yourself when you go clubbing with his friends either, the jerk. Your fashion sense is perfectly acceptable, thank-you-very-much.

He tells you you’re being assigned a bias for today based on your wardrobe as he tosses you a white and navy stripped polo shirt and some navy sweatpants with racer strips on the side. He pulls up a reference photo on your phone and tells you to accessorize while he goes to find an appropriate tie from his stash for you.

Looking at the picture of Han Jisung on your screen, you admit that the outfit is pretty close already. You decide to leave the polo’s buttons undone, grabbing a white camisole to put on under. Your accessories take a bit longer, and you can’t see the shoes to match those, but Taylor seems satisfied enough when he comes back.

He hands you a tie and a handful of pins to complete your look and begins pushing you out the door before you can even put them on properly. When you protest this he insists that the two of you are running late, despite the concert still being more than 13 hours away.

You do, in fact, make him sleep in the car. He does not appreciate this, but early morning traffic can lull even the most dutiful of soldiers to sleep. He’s somehow even more chipper than usual when he wakes up, despite being groggy and bleary-eyed.

The crowd, when the two of you arrive, isn’t as big as you were expecting it to be. With all of Taylor’s rushing, you’d expected to barely be able to see the doors. The merch booth he was so excited about isn’t even open yet, and he settles the two of you into the line to enter the venue instead of camping there.

It’s immediately obvious who the extrovert between the two of you is, Taylor’s bouncy blond head beginning to duck and weave among the small crowd as soon as you claim your spot, laughs and excited exchanges popping up wherever he stopped. You, on the other hand, stay exactly where you’d been left and fiddle around on your phone, Taylor’s clear backpack abandoned in your arms.

You’re pretty sure this is purposeful on his part. You know each other well enough by now that he’s well aware of your tendency to stay planted once you’re settled. You’re definitely being used to stake out your spot. You steal one of his granola bars as payment for your services.

An hour or so drags through, and Taylor has thoroughly befriended most of the people around you. Once he’s decided that it’s about time to line up for some of the merch booths, Taylor leaves you in the tender care of the other fans as he goes to stake out a spot. He gracefully accepts both your wallet and your request of “a t-shirt and something they can sign”

The group of four people behind you, in particular, take his (only semi-joking) request of “take care of my introvert for me” seriously.

“So are you a Han bias?” One asks you as Taylor prances off. Her outfit is majority blue, little Bbokari (You can admit that the little characters charm you. You probably know their names better than the Stray Kids themselves) hair clips and keychains decorating her person.

You look down at yourself and then back up at her, almost having forgotten that you were dressed up as him. “Ah, no. Taylor, my friend, dressed me this morning. We’re here for him today. Though, he did say Han was my assigned bias today.” You laugh nervously, hoping they don’t judge your lack of knowledge.

Thankfully none of them seem discouraged by your response, giggling along with your little joke. In fact one of them, dressed head to toe in merch, seems almost excited by the prospect.

“Are you a baby Stay then?” She asks you with sparkling eyes. You wave your hands in front of yourself a bit defensively.

“Ah, no. I wouldn’t go that far. I like their music when Taylor plays it around the apartment, but I wouldn’t consider myself part of the fandom. This is actually my first k-pop experience in general.” You explain, “When I say we’re here for him, I mean I am here in total ignorance.”

Another girl, dressed in a loud assortment of colors you vaguely recognize from the music video Taylor had on loop in your living room for a week and a half when it dropped, lets out a low whistle. “Throwing you right into the deep end, huh? Hardcore.”

The group of you laugh a bit, the only guy in their group agreeing with, “Well if you’re not a fan now, you will be when you leave. Their performances are amazing, honestly.”

You absorb the gushing with an open heart, truly hoping for that to be the case. You take this opportunity to take the spotlight off of yourself.

“Oh, have you guys been to a Stray Kids concert before? It’s Taylor’s first.”

That question is the key to the floodgates, and you end up spending the next 3 and a half hours waiting for Taylor’s return (with text updates from the man himself, assuring you that he is still where he’s supposed to be) being regaled with tales of concerts, events, and comebacks past. You feel a bit like you’re getting a crash course in all things Stray Kids, phones often popping out to show you clips, fancams, and photos.

It makes you smile, feeling very included and welcomed as you occasionally pepper in a question or two to keep them going. It’s just like dinners at the apartment with Taylor, him unloading his stress through fandom, and you unloading yours through listening to his ramblings.

This is exactly why you came with him today.

Taylor makes his return loaded down with goodies both purchased and gifted by other fans, to which you welcome him by cheering loudly. This triggers your new group to do the same. Somehow, the five of you cheering leads to a large portion of the early crowd, which had grown by the hour, cheering with you.

You feel a bit shy at the power you apparently hold, and laugh about it with your new friends.

Eventually Taylor and Merch Girl (you hadn’t managed to catch any of their names, you realize belatedly. It’d be too awkward to ask now. You resolve to simply Not Address Them) split off to do more rounds among other fans, distributing their own freebies.

You hadn’t even realized Taylor had made freebies. You’re also not sure how he found the time. Love finds a way, you suppose.

The other group’s Token Guy Friend (who will always been Token Guy to you, so sorry Token Guy) passes the conversation back to you. Not appreciated, Token Guy.

You can’t be all that mad though, as he shuffles through his bag to produce a piece of paper and a chisel-tipped sharpie. He passes the items to you with a grin.

“If you’re close to the stage you should have a sign! You might get an interaction that way!” He enthuses. The remaining girls cheer at the idea, sighing over the possibility of you getting an interaction at your very first concert.

You hold back correcting them that it’s just your first k-pop concert. You’re sure that’s what they mean anyways, as the experience so far has been quite different from your usual.

You look at the items in your hand, and then back at him. He offers to let you use his back to write on. You once again stare between his meticulous outfit and the sharpie in your hand. You are so not going to ruin someone’s day with what was supposed to be a kind gesture.

You motion for him to wait a moment and dig around in your own bag for a moment, the seat cushion Taylor had insisted you bring slapping you incessantly from where it hangs as you shuffle both your shoulder bag and Taylor’s backpack around. Eventually you manage to pull out your travel first aid kit, pulling a gauze pad from it.

You unclip the seat cushion from your bag and place it on the ground, motioning for Token Guy to kneel. He does so bemusedly.

“I’m gonna make it fancy,” You inform him, “those random calligraphy classes from high-school aren’t going to fail me today.” He makes a noise of assent and you’re crowding over his bent back, unfurling the gauze pad to make a barrier between the paper and his shirt.

He and the girls make their conversation around you as you sink into concentration. It’s very difficult to make nice, even, lines on an uneven surface like a back, and you have to keep gently slapping Token Guy’s shoulder when he laughs to remind him not to move.

Taylor and Merch Girl have returned by the time you finish your sign, Taylor laughingly cautioning any of them from breaking your concentration for anything less than Token Guy’s health. Unless they wanted to face your Wrath(tm), of course.

His advice seems to have been heeded, because by the time you tune back into the outside world you have a sign with very pretty (and most importantly - legible) calligraphy that reads:

[HAN! You’ve been assigned as my bias today! Make me fall for you?]

You even took the time to add Korean translations in smaller script beneath each line. You also take the time to admire your own foresight for laying out the gauze pad, small black marks littering it’s surface. Token Guy seems equally impressed when he looks at it, before taking the initiative to trash both it and the wrapper for you.

Merch Girl reads your sign when you proudly hold it in front of yourself and cackles.

“So that’s why he really brought you along, huh?” She teases, elbowing Taylor like they’re old friends. He has that effect on people. “She can talk to them for you if the Aussie line isn’t around.” Taylor gives a sheepish laugh and a faux-guilty shrug.

“That, and she bought the tickets. I couldn’t leave her behind if I tried.” He pokes at you as he speaks, mirth dancing in his eyes. Laughter erupts around the group as you shout your offence, making to start roughhousing with him like you do your sister.

The time passes joyously this way until the doors finally open to begin letting people in for sound check.

You’re not gonna lie, you’re already super tired and peopled out. Luckily, Taylor had clocked you flagging before even you had, and sent you to sit in “introvert time out” on your cushion in a shaded spot away from the crowd. So you could make it through sound check and the actual concert. Probably.

You and Taylor pass through security unscathed, having already eaten or trashed any snacks or drinks you’d brought with you, and having not bothered bringing much else. Both of your bags were just full of merch and freebies at this point.

Once you actually enter the venue you take the lead, dragging Taylor by the wrist to your seats. You’re actually super excited to show him the seats you’d gotten, having kept anything beyond ‘soundcheck’ a secret.

Taylor is already vibrating with excitement as you lead him to the floor seats. He’s nearly trembling as you lead him right up the center, past rows and rows of little white chairs erected for the reserved seating tickets. When you finally sit him down right in front of the thrust stage, plopping into the seat beside him with satisfaction, he turns to you with saucer-wide eyes.

“Noo...” He whispers.

“Oh, yes.” You return, blessing him with a grin and little eyebrow wiggle.

Taylor basically tackles you in a hug, almost knocking you into the person next to you, and squeals his thanks so loudly that you’re sure the entire stadium hears. When he’s done thanking you he pulls back, hands on your shoulders, with the most deadly serious eyes you had ever seen on him.

“I would die for you.” He intones lowly. You crack first, the two of you breaking into a giggle fit that was almost concerning with it’s intensity. When the two of you calm down and turn to settle and sit properly, he nudges your shoulder with his.

“Seriously,” He says, eyes soft, “You’re the best ever. You need anything from today on? I’m your guy.”

You chuckle at him, nudging him back, “Do my dishes for the next month, then.” You tease.

He rears back, hands up in joking surrender, “Woah, woah! Let’s not go that far! I meant if you needed to escape from the mob or something, not chores.” He gives an exaggerated shudder before breaking into his usual silly grin.

The two of you spend the next however long indulging in familiar banter, waving at the group of fans you’d made friends with outside when you spotted them not terribly far away, and generally recharging your batteries for the concert. Taylor eventually moves on to talking to the people around you, and you rest your head on his shoulder.

You close your eyes for just a moment, trying to turn the lights off in your brain for a bit. You really needed the music to start soon, you were going to fall asleep.

Almost as if in answer to your prayers, the group begins trickling on stage for sound check.

To be honest, both soundcheck and the concert pass in a blur for you.

Once things kick off, you’re swept away in a wave of cheers, music, and lights. You hadn’t expected front row seats to be quite as intense as they were, but you made a note to yourself to not book such tickets for yourself in the future.

You couldn’t really handle it.

Still, Taylor seems to have the time of his life, and you manage to immerse yourself in the concert enough to shake your sign at Han when he passes by, earning yourself a wink and a cheek heart. Taylor was nearly euphoric at having caught the interaction with his phone camera.

By the time it’s over, you’re fairly sure you had a good time, but also 100% sure that you were completely overwhelmed. Taylor manages to drag you to the send off that you paid for spots at anyway. Curse his charming, sunny demeanor.

You can’t really process how it happened at this point, but you end up practically pinned to the railing of the barricade at the send-off location, separated from Taylor, and clinging to your façade of an excited fan with a white knuckled grip. You have three things on you to get signed, and a mission from Taylor to get all three scribbled on.

Your sign for Han, a ballcap Taylor had customized, and a Lee Know photocard Taylor had entrusted to you with a gravity you weren’t sure it warranted. He had, like, three of the same one.

You try to drum up the determination to see your mission through, but find it difficult to dredge up any will at all.

Time waits for no man, however, and soon enough the members begin making their way through, delivering high-fives, autographs, and aegyo as they pass through. You end up squished almost violently to the railing, ducking a bit and making yourself as small as possible as hands, phones, and items all get waved around and over you.

You’re not sure you like send-off.

There’s so many noises and sights and smells that you have a really hard time keeping track of which member is where. Plus, you’re still a lot overwhelmed from lining up before dawn and the concert itself. You’re tired, you’re cranky, and you want to go home.

At some point Lee Know must pass by you, and you must have presented the photocard properly, because you have a signed one now. That’s cool. The faster you get the requested autographs, the faster you can leave.

Bangchan spawns in front of you from the aether, from your point of view. You may be a bit more out of it than you’d like to admit. Still, you dutifully hold out your ballcap for him to sign, exchanging post-concert niceties on pure autopilot.

Because you’re not all that present at the moment, or maybe because all you’d had was your breakfast and some granola bars in the last 13 hours, you don’t hold your balance the way you should when someone shoves at you from behind. You catch yourself on the railing, but you dropped the freshly signed cap.

Bangchan kindly stoops to pick it up for you, and you thank him. A couple of things happen very quickly at that point.

1) Unlike the first two exchanges of the cap, because of the awkward and quick nature of Bangchan’s action, it is no longer being handed to you with lots of space between your hand and his.

2) You’re still being jostled around. No matter how much you brace for the impact of the bodies surrounding you, you couldn’t possibly keep totally still.

3) These two things have a consequence. Your hand brushes Chan’s as he hands you the cap.

The world stops for you for a moment, as pins and needles stab into dozens of familiar spots all across your lower abdomen. You freeze, dumb, awkward, overwhelmed smile plastered to your face as Bangchan turns away from you.

The pain isn’t that bad, really, more like a bad period cramp mixed with a sleeping limb waking up. Still, you curl your arm around your stomach, and your body bows with the motion. As if you could protect your reality from shattering and reshaping itself in front of you.

Static fills your ears and your poor, overloaded, brain throbs with the beginnings of a migraine.

Bangchan is your soulmate.

International k-pop sensation Bangchan is one of your eight soulmates.

Bangchan is part of a group with eight members.

Your soulmate is already moving away from you, your minor interaction just a footnote of his day, the tingling pain of your soulmate bond awakening probably blending in with a thousand other minor aches and pains from a very physically intense day for him.

You come back to clarity with the resolve that you’d like it to stay that way.

With a sense of urgency, you look around the crowd you’re part of, noting distinct faces and colors for the first time. You’re not really sure what you’re looking for until you spot it, and suddenly your escape plan is fully formed.

There, just a couple shoves and elbow throws away, is Blue Bbokari Girl from this morning.

You struggle your way over, people falling into the space you’d left at the railing like a pack of hyenas on fresh meat. When you reach her you the gently at her sleeve to get her attention.

She turns to you with confusion first, a bright greeting next, and finally a concerned scrunch of her brow as she takes in your hunched form.

“Hey, I’m feeling kind of sick, can you help me get out of the crowd?” You’re sure you look convincingly pathetic and weak as you plead with her. If only because you really did feel pathetic and weak at the moment.

“Oh, of course, hun! Just a moment.” She begins to crane her neck around to scan the crowd like you’d done moments prior. You feel a bit bad for interrupting her night like this, but as she calls out to someone behind her, you’re more thankful than anything.

Blue Bbokari Girl successfully gets the attention of someone you don’t recognize, and a quick summary of, “She’s sick, help her leave!” shouted over the crowd has you being passed through the crowd unmolested.

You find yourself enveloped in a chain of fans, one passing you to another, pausing, and calling on someone else to pass you to until you’ve finally stumbled free of the send-off mob.

Feeling a bit like you’d just been spat out of the maw of a great creature, you look back at the rustling crowd, now looking like it had never been disturbed at all.

The last lady who had finally freed you, an older woman with a Jiniret picket, eyes you with concern as you put you back to the nearest wall and slide down it.

“Will you be okay, sweetie?” She questions you worriedly, “Do you have anyone to pick you up?”

You smile weakly at her and assure her that you just have to get ahold of your roommate and he’d get you home safe and sound. She tries to insist on waiting with you, but you persuade her to return to the crowd with promises that you’d make your way to a bathroom or security guard once the worst of your vertigo had passed.

You watch her return with morbid fascination, amazed when she just sort of gets absorbed back into the mass of people. Almost like it ate her. You once again marvel at making it out of such a thing unscathed.

Truth be told, your stomach was only sore and tender this point, the sharp, needle-point pains long gone. Still, you take a moment to bring your knees to your chest, just breathing as you press your forehead to them. If anyone were to look at you then, you wonder what they’d think of you curled up on the floor and trembling like your dog had just died.

You hope they’d view you with kindness.

After giving yourself a moment to just feel, though you couldn’t tell anyone what you had felt, you gather yourself enough to totter to your feet and drag yourself to the nearest bathroom. You text Taylor as you go.

[Hey. Felt sick, in bathroom rn. lmk when we can leave pls?]

Perma Tag List: @mbioooo0000

[ay-chuu]

As a Boyfriend: Jade Leech

Warnings: Tooth roothinf fluff,cringe and lol first time writing for a character that im not so close... BUT for my dear; @fukashiin <3

Jade is the most advanced person in terms of emotional intelligence between Floyd, himself and Azul! He just doesn't show it, or makes people hard to guess it with his slightly sadistic traits. But he is neither open to everything like Floyd and lives according to the moment or doesn’t get hysterical like Azul and make things get out of control. He analyzes everything and approaches the person with the most point shots in an emotional sense. Just like when he managed to impress you (;

He considers himself a loser in many things, and he didn't realize it until he met you... he thought he was incompetent in most things because he set himself back from everyone, but after he becoma lovers with you, he realized that this was an idea that could only be overcome. And this is actually also when he falls in love with you. Because he has always known that someone who can make him believe unexpected thoughts is his soulmate.

A romantic gentleman. Everything he does in the position of butler is a factor that is not a role for you. Are you tired? Your favorite drink is already ready. Are you sad? Why don't you lie down on that couch over there and tell him everything? Problems with the lesson? Here are the most profound books on this topic.

You're a new member of Mountain Lover Club! At first you thought you'd be so bored... (no, you definitely didn't join that club to impress Jade...) But taking mountain trips and determining the types of mushrooms from the book turned out to be more fun than you expected! First of all, there is no phone, it's a great Decoupling from the digital environment.... Secondly, you are drunk with nature, and at the end of every walk you become full of love and mushrooms. Finally and most importantly, you taste Jade in the most authentic way... when you two are alone together, he shows you his incredibly true self and always makes you feel soft inside.

One of the things that upsets Jade the most is the sadness of his loved ones. Floyd and you are at the top of this list. If someone has upset you... God bless them. I don't think he'll let them go without leaving a serious trauma. Even if this person is your family, he scares them in some way and makes them respect him. Because Jade is always an influential person. But if any event has upset you, what he will do is solve the incident as soon as possible as efficiently as possible, because he would rather drown the world than see you upset.

He's quite jealous. But he usually shows it to the person he's jealous of by making life a little hell because he doesn't want you to understand that he's jealous…

Swimming in the sea with you with the eel form, is his favorite. You're playing with each other, laughing like there's no tomorrow, and just.... You're together.... As you lean your foreheads against each other, the reflection of the setting sun on your face is an incredible happiness for both of you.

It may seem like he's the dominant person in the relationship, but actually you're the secret boss! He's just being angry at you and leading you so that you can be happy. (He's a complete malewife... When you get married, you get a 10/10 service in your home. He is a devoted husband! devoted to his spouse, *insert proud face with mop!*)

To be lovers together with Jade is to be able to say that you also have a close relationship with Floyd! You three are a chaotic group, and there are no people who can understand or put it in a sentence to describe the craziness you are doing. And that's why Jade loves you so much. Just as you can have peaceful moments when you two are together, all the calm disappears in an instant when you put your twin Decoupled! (Floyd is very happy thst you two are dating and even jealous that Jade is dating you... But that's another day's topic!)

All in all, Jade is both a gentle lover who has all the qualities you can look for and want, and a wonderful partner who can give you the most crazy and adventurous moments.

[shrekgogurt]

Ten Questions for Writers

Thank you for the tags! @artsyunderstudy @roomwithanopenfire @youarenevertooold @emeryhall @monbons @larkral I'm eating up reading your answers because we're all so DIFFERENT.

How many works do you have on AO3? 9 (technically 10 but we orphaned one of them out of shame)

What’s your total AO3 word count? 99,978 (mine) + 7,531 (shared) + 9,991 (someone else's) = 117, 500 (total)

What fandoms do you write for? presently, Carry On but back during my high school ff.net days I did some Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus (Percabeth and some separate OCs), Alex Rider (OCs), The 100 (as an elaborate prank), Harry Potter (literally just a My Immortal parody), and Divergent (OCs) and if they weren't oneshots they were never finished.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? YES! I'm currently behind on my replies, but it's so fun! It's like a book club but for stuff I created!!???? Shit rocks. I fully didn't expect anyone to read IKABIKAM (my first fic on ao3) when I first published it and so every comment still feels like a miracle.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? No.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! I love collaborating because it gives me something to bounce off of. A scene partner. A ticking timer. It's like lifting a heavy object by yourself versus getting someone else to bear some of the weight with you. It's easier. I also find myself constantly seeking collaboration with other people even with my solo fics. I'm all up in those DMs pestering people both as motivation and as external processing. And by GOD, do you fuckers have some good ideas. Y'all make me exponentially better.

What’s your all-time favorite ship? SnowBaz but also in a very real sense...Percabeth. (You never forget your first.)

What are your writing strengths? I got my start with rping, so dialogue is really comfortable for me. I also think my training in other art forms (dance, music, theatre, film, academia) positively influence my approach. When writing action, I often mentally frame it as 'blocking' the scene or 'choreographing' the movement. When crafting sentences, I'm constantly evaluating the rhythm and rhyme and repetition (not to mention alliteration) as if it's a song, always searching for the perfect word or metaphor. I also listen to actual songs and pull the emotion from them, using them as character studies or a musical soliloquy. I imagine shots and then write what I see from the perspective of a director explaining the actor’s motivating thoughts. I constantly revisit my thesis, grounding the narrative in callbacks and a cohesive structure like it's an academic paper. And all those things combined create this kinetic cause and effect style I'm really proud of and tangibly improves every time I write something new.

What are your writing weaknesses? I do not have a firm grasp on proper grammar. I'm also really slow and inconsistent with my output because my process is so physically disorganized and meticulous which often frustrates me. I'm also impatient. I don't do wholesale messy drafts; I edit as I go and when I'm done I want it published immediately. I also fall victim to the white room syndrome with physical descriptions. Establishing shots? Don't know them. What a guy looks like? What they're wearing? Sorry, I haven't told you because it felt weird to jam in there. Outside of fanfiction, I also struggle with creating something from nothing. I'm a theologian rather than a god. I much prefer playing in a sandbox and exegeting meaning from someone else's grunt work rather than conjuring the wood and the sand myself. My writing is also incredibly referential to pop culture which I'm not sure would translate outside of fanfic, but I guess I'll cross that bridge if I ever get to it.

First fandom you wrote for? Divergent (big cringe)

Now tagging! @onepintobean @cutestkilla @theearlgreymage @thewholelemon @mooncello @brilla-brilla-estrellita @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart @fatalfangirl @urban-sith @prettygoododds @valeffelees @ileadacharmedlife TELL ME HOW YOU WRITE YOU GENIUSES

[minghaoslut]

— KIM MINGYU - TASTE LIKE HEAVEN

"You might taste like heaven why not make us both feel like heaven"

-(ya..im bad at naming fics) pair - non-idol!mingyu X fem!reader MINORS DNI!!! warning - cringe? (pls), fingering, jealousy (does it have to be-), cum licking, cursing, angst, some nicknames there might be some language errors ; since i dont double check TT, i use semi-colon alot u can think of it as a fullstop, since i dont like adding fullstop after every single sentence (not saying i will NOT put any fullstop), IT IS KINDA RUSHED UP AT THE END TT appearance - wonwoo and jun words - 1.7k (its my first fic ;-; i used to write on wattpad ; i suddenly feel like changing socials, help-)

i wore a black dress, showing my body line perfectly, full sleeves yet showing my little tattoo on the collarbone ; getting ready for the party, mingyu said we'll go to. leaving my hair down, doing some light makeup ; i stood up from my makeup, grabbing my black purse table leaving the room. I went down the stairs, facing your husband's back ; him concentrated on his phone.

"are you ready?" mingyu asked without looking at me ; said too early he turned around and sat there stunned, you hummed in response ; he eyed you up and down, "no wonder you took so much time, just to look like this." you frowned at his words thinking if you dont look good, mingyu looked at your to see if you got the wrong idea of what he said, "don't get it wrong, you look hot as hell" he winked and stood up. he grabbed the car key ; going straight to the parking lot, you followed him like a lost puppy.

he opened the door for you, you sat on the passengers seat. mingyu sat next to you on the driving seat he plugged in the key and started the car. the car ride wasn't that long ; you both arrived around 15 minutes. he parked the car and stepped outside, you also followed him ; you looked at the entrance of the party. it wasn't that overly crowded, mingyu held on your palm ; your hands have been cold ever since, feeling warmth of his hand. you also held onto his hand ; you both went inside, noise of the crowd hitting your ears. in specific, you've never been a social butterfly ; and dont like places with crowds, mingyu also in specific don't like showing his wife off.

you held on his hand tighter, mingyu looked at you and smiled ; came close to your ears whispered that, "don't be anxious, i'm here with you" you slightly nodded at his words. he then spotted a table with a familiar face, "let's go" mingyu went up to the table ; so did you. mingyu did the 'bro hug' with wonwoo ; wonwoo look at you and just shook your hand in order to greet you. you smiled at him ; "hey mingyu" a voice said, revealing one of his colleague ; jun . mingyu did the so called bro hug with jun too, and jun shook your hand too. you smiled the same to jun too. "let's just sit down now" wonwoo said, you all sat down while mingyu and wonwoo started having a convo, "where are the others?" he asked, "they have some meeting in their fields too." wonwoo replied, he nodded at wonwoo's words, then started a convo related to some business and stuff, you diverted your eyes somewhere else seeing jun on his phone, jun noticed and switched his phone off.

"那么，你这些天怎么样? (so, how are you these days?)" he began in chinese, "很好，那你呢? (pretty fine, what about you?)" you replied back, you both knew each other since long ; after getting to know you both are chinese ; became comfortable with each other. "我也是 (me too)" he smiled. he offered you some beer, you gladly accepted it. A small shot of beer won't hurt right?, you thought and gulped it in one go ; in specific, you have a pretty high tolerance. you're not usually drunk after 5 or 6 six shot other than your husband's friend, i dont remember his name but he says himself he's a tiger? till you finished your beer jun already had drunk 5 shots, you know that he also dont have a high tolerance ; 9 shots are his max till he is fully drunk. he might be dizzy by now, your husband didnt bat an eye on you ; he was still busy in his convo with 'wonwoo'. jun put his head on your shoulder, being shocked by his move ; you realized he was already drunk. "i'll be back let me use the washroom once" wonwoo said leaving you, jun and gyu behind. mingyu nodded then he looked at you, you scrolling through your phone feeling mingyu is looking at you.

so you also looked at him ; his eyes went on jun who was still on your shoulder, you followed his eyes where he was looking. only to see he was looking at jun, you felt uneasy by his glare on jun ; mingyu stood up making you shocked, he went up to jun where he was seated ; he slightly removed jun's head from your shoulder. which made jun put his head on the table, after a moment ; mingyu went upto his seat, eyes still not leaving you. you didn't realize jun woke up and looked at you, you on the other hand busy having a staring competition. you felt jun put his head on your shoulder once again. you removed jun from your shoulder yourself, "why are you doing this" he muttered looking up to you. wonwoo also came back as soon as he said it, your husband opened his phone getting the hint if he's checking the time ; which he did and locked his phone, then he looked at wonwoo and said, ''the time is getting late, i think we should get going first", ''oh, sure ; but don't you think its early" wonwoo smiled as he said that.

"i know but i have some work to do tomorrow, so i have to go right now" mingyu stood up ; so did you stepping out, none of you thought that tomorrow is a sunday which means a day off for mingyu, jun and wonwoo came and followed to bid a bye. mingyu and wonwoo gave an 'bro hug' once again ; jun came up to you, "你真的要去吗? (are you really going?) he said clingily, poor baby mingyu can't understand a single thing, "我得去君，我不能整天呆在这(i have to jun, i cant stay here all day)" you chuckled, he suddenly hugged you ; you were shocked. wonwoo came forward and removed him from you, wonwoo was still smiling at jun's behaviour. mingyu held your hand and started moving towards his car, he opened the door to maintain his 'gentlemen'

image. he started driving ; you can feel him being angry or jealous?

"when did you became so close to him?" mingyu asked to you, "uhh…" you didn't had an answer for the question he asked ; he stopped the car since it was a red light, mingyu looked at you, "why? didn't find an answer?" it was like if he read your mind, "don't worry, i'll help you find an answer babe" he looked away and started the engine. it felt like this car ride is going long than it was when you arrived. the ride was then silent and arrived after some time ; being a 'gentlemen' he opened the door for you, you exactly knew what is going to happen once you step in the house.

as soon as you enter, he closed the door behind you and started glaring at you, "want me to find your answer?" you looked at him back and the next thing you knew were his lips were already on yours, he started kissing you hungrily. you are not that strong to win against him and push him away ; you accepted the fact and gave in. one of his hand was on your neck and second one on your waist ; you could somehow feel him hand going down your waist ; lifting a little part of your dress up, his hand went on the strap of your underwear slightly pushing it down ; yet lips still on its job. his finger went inside your clit, making you frown, his fingers going inside and out every second ; making you melt on his touch. he broke the kiss, he smirked and asked, "loving it right babe?" he added another finger in, as he said that. his other free hand went to your neck and kissing you. he stopped the fingers that was on your clit, taking them out ; he picked you up still focused on kissing you. he put you down once you entered the room, he closed the door behind ; pushing you onto the bed. he climbed up to you and started kissing your neck, his hands travelled up on your dress, pushing it up. he went down ; knowing what his next step is, "wait-" you said anxiously making him look at you, he just hummed in response "what about your nnn?", he looked away smirking, "do you really thought i participated in that shit?" he said, looking at your cunt ; focusing on his main goal he kissed your clit, making you frown once again. he started using his tongue on ur clit going deep, he swirled his tongue on your core, you couldn't help ;you finally let out a light moan. your husband loves it when you moan for him and only him, his mouth exploring your clit.

"g-gyu" you moaned his name, he stopped letting his tongue slip out white thin thread connecting your clit and his mouth ; he pulled out, he looked at you for a moment then connected your lips, making you taste yourself, "you taste like heaven, babe." he stated, not going easy on you "you might taste like heaven let's make up both feel like heaven?"

[teruuu]

just read all 20k words in your fic in like 1-2 hours and MAN

what I'd give for part two, your writing was absolutely wonderful man

anyways i now let myself be taken into the land of unconsciousness, have a nice [time of day]

WHAT IS WITH THE INFLUX OF ASKS ABOUT MY FIC NOW??? Is it a resurgence of sorts?? ACQUIRING DEVOTION IS MAKING A COMEBACK AFTER MY OLD FAITH ACADEMY AND COMPULSION OF FLESH AUS BEAT IT FROM THE SPOTLIGHT???

Not that I’m upset about it, I’m absolutely OVERJOYED. Ngl still a shocker for me to see pepple actually liking the shit that I draw/write because I kid you not, every single time I reread my works I cringe so hard and this applies to the shit I draw too 😭😭😭 maybe it’s just a me thing. Is it just me??? Tell me every other writer also overthinks a single sentence that they wrote P L E A S E tell me I’m normal ☠️☠️

Okay so, the good news: I’ve had Part 2’s outline for the past two months now.

Bad news: I’VE ADDED NOTHING NEW IN THE SPAN OF THOSE TWO MONTHS ☠️

I require extremely quiet environments to, like, write for long amounts of time and genuinely my environment is not it so I’ve been drawing a lot lately while slowly chipping away at the fanfics I’ve been preparing for Old Faith and Compulsion.

BUT ANYWAYS, SORRY FOR RAMBLING I NEED TO SHUT UP FRFR 🤧 SORRY FOR BEING A YAPPER WHEN i’M EXCITED. Thanks for enjoying the fic, hope you had a wonderful sleep! I’ll try to get back to working on part 2 soon since a lot of people have been begging for it too ☠️