#and i never ever comment or say anything about it on those fics bc that would be fucking rude

[the-faultofdaedalus]

i am. way too fucking pedantic about the im1-im2-a1 timeline every time a fic does anything that does not fit (what i believe to be) the Correct Timeline i need to tab out for a second and argue at myself

[rosenclaws]

Restless night | Variant!Logan x reader

summary: Logan has nightmares about his world and you want to help.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, descriptions of bodies (not graphic), sad logan, possibly ooc bc ive never written for him im sorry dfslj. Reader has like, memory manipulation powers? Ig that's how you'd explain them??

a/n: Hello! This is my first Logan fic ever and I am very nervous but after watching Deadpool I have fallen in love with wolverine, particularly this wolverine. I don't know if I'll ever write again for him but I wrote this and felt like sharing so I hope you like it too <3

wc: 1.7k

"Logan!" You yell angrily. He grits his teeth as you slam the door wide open. Curious heads turn towards the two of you as you storm after him. 

"What." He bites back as he continues to walk. 

"Can you just stop for one fucking second!" Your fists clench at your sides as you stop right in front of the front doors. "You are a real asshole, you know that? You're a mutant whether you like it or not. So how about doing something good and helping us." He pulls out a cigar and lights it, blowing the smoke directly into your face. 

"For the last fucking time, I don't want any part of your X-Men bullshit." You sigh and shake your head. So fucking stubborn. 

"We need you Logan, please. I need you please." You place your hand on his arm, rubbing your thumb over his leather jacket. For a moment you think he might stay. Maybe he'll admit for once in his life that he wants the family that waits for him here. Instead he pushes your hand off. Rolls his eyes and walks straight past you. 

"Fuck off." He walks out the doors, letting them slam loudly.

Those were the last words he ever spoke to you. Well, the you that he knew.

"Logan?" He flinches hard as your voice snaps him from his spiral. 

It makes his stomach turn to see you. You look exactly how he remembers. Except you have a scar on your forehead. His eyes focus on that, a reminder that you're not the you he knew. No, in this universe you're Wade's next door neighbor. A mutant who retired from teaching at the mansion and lives a quiet, happy life. At least you're happy in this world. 

"M'fine." He mumbles as he stands up from the table. No one was really paying attention to the two of you as dinner was dying down. You want to say more but he leaves before you can. Sighing, you watch him retreat into his room. He's barely said two words at a time to you. No matter how hard you try he refuses to speak to you. At first you thought you had done something but the few times you've caught him staring you see a terrible sadness in his eyes. You know he's from another timeline and that something went terribly wrong. Your room shares a wall with his and as hard as he tries he can't hide his nightmares.

"Don't worry about him, he's got that tragic backstory kind of character development going." Wade comments. "God knows he could use some therapy but I doubt Marvel would ever green light that movie." You nod absentmindedly, not really listening to Wade's rambling. 

You float around for a little longer until you can silently excuse yourself and go back to your own apartment. Logan stays on your mind the whole time. You wonder if he knew you in his world. If something had happened that made him like this. As you lay in bed you close your eyes and listen, you can hear him tossing and turning. He settles and you silently hope that for once he can sleep through the night. 

It's eerily silent as he stumbles back to the mansion. He stops right outside of the door. His ears alert for the sound of you to see if you were awake yet. Except no matter how hard he listens he can't hear anything. A horrible scent fills his nose and it makes him sick. The smell of blood. Barging through the door's he's met with destruction and bodies.

This is a nightmare, it has to be. He calls your name frantically. Racing through the mansion, begging for anyone to be alive. Instead he finds body after body. Until he stumbles upon yours. He falls to his knees, his hands ghosting over your face. You look so peaceful but you're cold to the touch. Maybe if he had been there, he could have saved you.

His claws unsheathe themselves as white hot rage bubbles to the surface. Without another word he walks out of the mansion with only the thought of killing on his mind. Blood for blood.

Logan's voice is what wakes you up. Even through the walls you can hear him. You can't quite make out what he's saying but it's clearly a nightmare. He's turning wildly. You knock on the wall, hoping maybe it would wake him somehow. Worry builds as he gets louder. 

Suddenly through the walls you hear a resounding shout before metal claws burst through your wall. You can't help but scream as they miss you by only a few inches. Breathing heavily you slowly reach out to touch them but they retract before you can.

"Fuck!" You hear him shout. The sound of scrambling and frantic footsteps following his outburst. A loud knocking fills your apartment as you shake off the shock. Quickly you rush to the door and open it, finding a shirtless Logan standing before you. His eyes scan you for injuries, injuries that he would have caused. He grabs your arms firmly and pushes you inside, closing the door behind him with his foot. 

"Logan I'm okay, just a little startled." You try to reassure him but he doesn't hear you. His mind is snowballing out of control. 

"Logan!" You say louder and he finally looks at you. 

"I'm okay." You say softly. Slowly he loosens his grip as he lets his body relax, but only a little. 

"Another nightmare?" You ask and he nods. His eyes drift to your open bedroom door. He can see the holes left by his claws. Just how close they sit next to your pillow. Guilt floods him as he deflates.

"I..." He doesn't really know what to say. This would be your first real conversation since he came to this world. For years he's thought about what he'd say to you if he was ever gifted the chance. Yet, he stands here completely silent. 

"They're getting worse." You say, breaking the silence. 

Cautiously you reach to take his hand. He closes his eyes as he feels your thumb rub along the top of his hand. He lets you guide him to your bedroom. When you let go he almost reaches out to take it back, but he doesn’t. Instead he turns his attention towards your wall. He’s ruined a fair amount of bed sheets before but this was new. He traces the holes with his hand. Wincing as he notices just how close he was to cutting you open. 

"Sit." You gesture to the empty side of your bed. He hesitates and you huff. 

"Humor me." You plead and he can't find it in himself to say no. 

It's almost too much as he sits down, everything smells like you. Your hands move towards his temples but he grabs your wrists before you can go any further.

"Logan, let me help." He half smiles at that. 

"You were always so persistent about that." Your eyes widen as you realize he's talking about his universe’s you. 

"I told you I didn't want you poking around in my head but you just wanted to help the nightmares. I never let you though" He admits. 

"I should've. I should've stopped being a stubborn ass and just listen to you." His voice wavers and you have a feeling he's not talking about dreams anymore. 

"Then listen to me and let me help you." He lets go of your wrists and looks up at your face. Savoring the look of kindness in your eyes. 

"You don't want to go in here, once you do..." Wordlessly you place your fingers on the side of his head. Suddenly you're overcome with visions of bloodshed and anger. A tear slips down your face as you see flashes of Logan's memories. 

The rage, the hopelessness, the darkness that plagues his mind. Through all of that there was a lurking feeling of indescribable guilt. So much pain, so much sorrow. Logan knocks your hands away as he watches more tears pour down your face. You open your eyes and wipe the tears away. 

"I told you baby," He waits for you to move away from him. To call him a monster. It's what he deserves. To his surprise you wrap your arms around him instead. He buries his face in your shoulder and hugs you tight. 

"I'm so sorry." It’s the last thing he expects to hear and it nearly breaks him.

"What I did.." 

"You were in pain, so much pain." You know it's not easy for him to see but all of this pain led to him becoming the hero he never thought he could be. 

"You saved the world Logan. You're a hero whether you like it or not." He winces as he remembers you say something similar to him before. "And a hero deserves to sleep peacefully, for one night at least."

"You won't stop will you?" You shake your head and he finally relents.

He sinks down into your bed, resting his head on your lap. You bring your fingers back to the side of his head and use your powers to calm his mind. Searching for happy memories and temporarily suppressing the bad ones. Calmness washes over him, a feeling he hasn't felt in years. He's already drifting in and out of sleep but something nags at him from the back of his mind. 

"I loved you. My universe's you." He admits in a whisper. The words he never got to say. It's been eating him alive for decades. He never got to say them to you, he was too much of a coward. 

Your heart skips a beat at his confession and he can hear it. You don't respond, instead offering a comforting hum. He doesn't know you. The similarities are there but he knows you're two different people. But he wants to know you and he hopes you feel the same way. For a moment he thinks that maybe the universe is finally giving him what he's always wanted, a second chance.  

"Sleep well Logan." You watch his breathing slow and his mind settle. Though you could stop using your powers now, you hold on for a while longer.

And for the first time in a long time, Logan sleeps.

[mamawasatesttube]

Sorry, I know you don’t really like people bringing up Jason but I’m very curious. I read Straight on Till Morning several times before really joining Tumblr and I was surprised by how much you seem to dislike him compared to how nicely he was written in said fic. Is it cuz it’s a future fic so he can be more chilled out than in current comics or something?

Feel free to ignore me if you want. Curiosity does not owe me answers.

no worries, i don't mind polite questions! :P

so there's two things. a) sotm was written when the only real comics i'd read were sb94, yj98, tt03, batgirl (2000), and nightwing '96 (iirc - i might be forgetting one or two but the point is, when i was pretty new to comics). at this point wfa had tricked me into thinking jason actually had a consistent character arc that i simply hadn't read yet, and i assumed it would be weird to write a fic where dick, tim, and cass were all around as kon's friends + damian was there being jon's friend in the background, but jason didn't get mentioned, so i worked him in bc i thought that was like. gonna be weird if i didn't, even tho i didn't know what he was doing in postcrisis yet. i mostly just wanted to write about kon and did not yet have the strong "actually i do not care for 99% of post-rebirth comics" feelings i have today. if i were to do the sotm rewrite in my mind, jason would actually still be in his villain to antivillain era because that's my actual favorite era of him. i think it's fun when he's hanging around being like... a vengeful ghost who's just determined to make his problems Everyone's Problem. i'm not really interested in soft angsty daddy's boy jtodd or whatever sdkjfh and that seems to be the most popular version of him i see. it's either soft angsty daddy's boy jason or it's power fantasy cop-adjacent jason who has never done anything wrong in his life and is completely valid in every decision he's ever made. neither of these interests me.

which brings me to b) it's not so much that i dislike jason todd as a character so much as that his fans are so fucking annoying to me. that chapter of sotm? multiple people in the comments were there ONLY to talk about jason, even though the fic is literally about kon and not about jason and he just happens to appear for PART of one scene that chapter. it made me get sick of hearing about him. like theres soooo many jason todd fics out there can you go read those. i want to talk about kon! and i've had people bring him up on my completely unrelated fics too like he doesn't even get MENTIONED like one fic is about clark kon and tim, and someone was in the comments like "omg i bet clark was thinking about jason here" and i was so ... dude. read the room. or the fic even. it is not about him.

but even more than the way a lot of jason fans have this apparently compulsive need to make him the main character of the entire universe, i really can't stand how many of them i've seen spout literal straight up copaganda and/or defense of the death penalty. like they will bend over backwards so hard to defend why he was right to put 8 heads in a duffel bag or why it's morally correct to kill rapists that they start spewing right-wing talking points. and the constant need to make him the perfect imperfect victim ("he's angry and loud unlike GOOD victims--") and all of that just... it really turns me off of 99% of fan content about him that i've seen. it makes me genuinely kind of uncomfortable. like if you think there's a category of criminal that it's okay to execute (without a trial, even) i want nothing to do with you. can you guys just say it's sexy when a man is covered in blood after murdering a room full of people without having to be like "and he was right to do it too!!" because i promise he was not. and if you SAY any of this people will come up with a whole thing about how you must hate victims and/or poor people or some shit. its... really something.

all of that being said - i think there are interesting things you COULD do with his character. i think he can be a fascinating character! with stories worth telling! the family tragedy, the horror story, the vengeful ghost! but at this point with how rancid i find his fanbase i just really only want to see jason takes from people i know will not start spewing copaganda at me + people who i know appreciate tim kicking him in the balls (bc he kicked dick in the balls and tim is a bitch).

anyways. bring back tentatodd 2k25 who's with me

[baldurs-writers-3]

Astarion: A Baldur's Gate 3 Fanfic Rec List

This week, we have Astarion Centric fics! Check under the cut for a whopping seventeen fics all about our favorite vampire spawn, and as always, give them a comment and kudos if you like them!

The stars began to burn by peregrinefeathers (87k, Mature) Warnings: None Pairings: Astarion/Gale

An AU where instead of having an orb lodged in his chest Gale got stuck in a book. Then when a vampire spawn opened that book he got stuck in that vampire spawn's head. This is the best thing that has ever happened to Astarion; within 15 minutes he's running out of the Szarr palace into the sunlight. Then adventures begin!

Reccer says: a slow burn, like bloodweave is obvious endgame but it takes a while to get there, and Astarion is written /so/ well

Uncrossed Lines by Asidian (1209, Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Astarion & Wyll, Astarion & Halsin, Astarion & Karlach

Friends don't let friends get hurt and/or pressured into doing things they don't want to do

Reccer says: Just an incredibly sweet depiction of people recognizing Astarion's boundaries and helping to enforce them, whether he's expecting them to or not. I love it

Hydnellum Peckii by OctolingO (4403, General) Warnings: talks of Astarion's past but no gruesome details Pairings: none

Astarion is doing a great job hiding what he is from the party, until they reach the Underdark and he has nothing to feed on.

Reccer says: this is so angsty! i loved Gale being too curious for his own good and trying to help and be supportive, and all of Astarion's fears of getting kicked out or killed, bc nobody could ever be in his corner, and having anyone in a position of power apologizing *to him* like that's so foreign - this gave me so many feels!

caught between the dark and the dreaming by Raayide (18925, Teen) Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Pairings: Astarion & Friends

Marcus wants answers, and no one is going to give them to him, unless he forces them to. Astarion is the unlucky target forced to drink a truth serum.

Reccer says: Absolutely delicious whump and found family comfort afterwards

of death potential and death absolute by Raayide (39119, Teen) Warnings: Derealization Pairings: Astarion & Gale, pre-relationship

Astarion is never quite sure, until the moment Cazador lies dead before him, whether this entire adventure is anything more than an extremely vivid hallucination.

Reccer says: this story takes Astarion and twists him up into a little heartbreaking ball of a premise that makes him think everything is just a dream, and how desperate he is to stay in the dream rather than waking up. it retells most of the game with a tight focus and some lovely lovely characters scenes, everyone gets a moment in the spotlight!

Those left behind by Gally (73949, Mature) Warnings: None Pairings: Past Astarion/Karlach

What's Astarion to do after the Absolute is destroyed and the love of his life is now dead?

Reccer says: Lots of funny. Lots of sad. Lots of excellent characterization and slow but steady healing

All it Cost Me by HydieMurderBabe (38529, Explicit) Warnings: Ite explicit, very raunchy and Durge elements of rougher kinds Pairings: Durge X Astarion

Two traumatized nubbins heal from their pasts. Lots of sex and violence ensues.

Reccer says: Its funny, its raunchy, its detailed and most of all I feel like Im invested in the pairing

Collision Course by VakarianSyndrome (123444, Explicit) Warnings: No warnings. Tropes: Modern Girl in Baldur's Gate, found family Pairings: Astarion/F!OC

Set in Baldur’s Gate, this series follows Adelaide, a human woman from Earth, and her somewhat clumsy attempts at navigating this new and fantastical realm. In the process, she falls for Astarion, the pale elf, vampire spawn with level 100 rizz.

Reccer says: It starts out really funny, but then gradually gets serious where needed. The buildup between Astarion and the OC is spicy and sweet, and the smut delivers! And it's completed!

No Good End in View by not_whelmed_yet (60,797, ongoing, Mature) Warnings: Character death (temporary), torture Pairings: Astarion/Wyll/Karlach

Astarion doesn't get time to be terrified of the party, because Wyll cuts off what he sees as a feral vampire spawn's head long before he can try to seduce them. The only problem is that this doesn't kill him. And it continues to not kill him.

Reccer says: this is an achingly beautiful exploration of a team that gets off not so much on the wrong foot but on a freefall - each doing horrible things to each other in ways that all read perfectly understandable from their point of views, but have wretched lasting consequences. the author writes them so in character that I want to throttle them and fall in love all over again

What Could Have Been by Bella1433 (70000, Explicit) Warnings: There is mention of past sexual trauma, its Explicit, and goes into dark territory but not dead dove. Pairings: Named Tav X Astarion

Astarion's transformation into a vampire lord and Sima's fight to reclaim their lost love thrust them into a perilous dance of power, obsession, and redemption.

Reccer says: Its dark, rich, has a different tone and some of the most immersive writing I've read

the ghost of elturel by Raayide (4452, General) Warnings: None Pairings: Astarion and Zevlor

Astarion and Zevlor meet, talk, hate each other, and hate themselves. There is nothing particularly of note about any of it.

Reccer says: Recognition of self in the other tied with some amazing introspection and metaphor

Circus of the dead by Ineadhyn (5995, Explicit) Warnings: Rape/Non-con, graphic violence, self-harm Pairings:

A dark horror circus AU with Astarion, Cazador, and his other spawns.

Reccer says: This is so beautiful, tragic, gripping, and I'm utterly obsessed with everything about it.

No Good Deeds by Garnett Gibson (39715, Explicit) Warnings: None Pairings: Astarion/Tav

A young woman trying to be a good person gets corrupted by Astarion as they navigate the tadpole issue.

Reccer says: Delicious slow burn and creative deviations from canon.

The Lord and his new ways by FartasticDurge (26459, Explicit) Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Coercion, Manipulation, Abusive Relationships, Dissociation Pairings: Astarion/Tav

Ascended Astarion and Spawn Tav's post-game turbulent relationship from Tav's POV.

Reccer says: She struggles between doing what she thinks is right and obeying him, and seeing her process is interesting. In the latest chapter, they go to therapy, a unique twist for Ascended Astarion.

In Time by FartasticDurge (16927, Explicit) Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Pairings: Astarion/Tav, Astarion & Gale

Post-canon fic where Astarion is looking for a Tav who died and reincarnated into another person. Gale helps him find her, but things take an unexpected turn when they find her.

Reccer says: Astarion POV, a lot of D&D lore, the friendship between Gale and Astarion is interesting and supportive. Tav and Astarion's roles are reversed; he is being nice and she is suspicious of him, which is a nice twist with funny moments.

How Far You've Come by Garnett Gibson (5481, Explicit) Warnings: None Pairings: Astarion/Tav

Astarion's obedient consort has come a long way, but sometimes she still steps out of line.

Reccer says: I liked it!

If Only For One Night by Terrormisu (682, Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Astarion/Tav

With their party always busy, Astarion finds himself longing for his little love.

Reccer says: It's a short sweet one shot that made me feel all warm and squishy inside. Hehe. But even the implied intimacy was steamy.

The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ!

Next week, we’ll be back with another character rec list, this time focusing on Family!

[scotfraweek]

It’s here guys! The long awaited list for ScotFra Week! Thank you to those of you who voted on the poll/form

I hope you guys like the list I created. I had to really think this through and really decide how I wanted to organize the Themes/Prompts in a way that would not only make sense but that would be interesting and bring out your creative and imaginative ideas to the event.

Now without any further ado, here they are

🌹Day 1 - October 20

Soulmates / Reincarnation

“Maybe we make it in another universe/life”

“Have we met before?”

High School Sweethearts

Differences Attract

❤️Day 2 - October 21

Humanverse VS Fantasy

“We can build something new, for us.”

“Have you ever wondered, of what could’ve been?”

Long-Distance Relationship

🌹Day 3 - October 22

A/B/O or Pirates/Merfolk

“I was here first!”

“Is this what you want?”

Unplanned Pregnancy

Jealousy

❤️Day 4 - October 23

✨F R E E D A Y✨

Anniversary

🌹Day 5 - October 24

Horror / Supernatural (In honor of Halloween)

“Why is there so much blood?!”

“So everything you said was a lie?”

There was only one bed

Serial Killer/ Haunted House

❤️Day 6 - October 25

Artist/Fan or Detectives

“There was a slight miscommunication”

“You’ve never done this before, have you?”

Love = Weakness

Rivalry

🌹 Last Day - October 26

Angst/Hurt or Post Apocalypse

“Do you remember when…?”

“I trusted you!”

Character Death/Still Alive

The End of the World

🌹 Of course if you guys would like, you can mix and match. If a prompt from a different day fits your idea for one of the Themes, you are more than welcome to use it. You also can use more than one prompt if you wish as well!

❤️ Art, fics/one-shots and moodboards are all welcomed. Anything that you can use to express your imagination and creativity

✨How to submit your works✨

Just tag the account @scotfraweek as well as the #/ScotFraWeek2024 with your submission/post

✨R U L E S✨

Yes, there are rules guys… please follow them

I will not tolerate any bashing of other Hetalia Characters even if it is for the sake of your idea. Please be respectful of the other characters, I don’t want any fan-wars bc someone’s blorbo was bashed

Try to keep politics and actual life events to a minimum, no need for there to also be any actual hate/fighting during the event amongst participants.

I will say this only once, please to not use other artist’s/writer’s work to enter the event. All work must be solely yours. If someone calls you out for plagiarism, I will NOT be defending you, you’re on your own for that

Please, please, PLEASE, and I can NOT stress this enough, but absolutely no AI can be used for your submissions. Once again, all works must be unique and original. If your work requires AI, then it is NOT original. I will not reblog your work if i get the slightest hint of AI work, and believe me, I can tell

Please keep comments on other participants work friendly. Respect the other participant’s submissions for the event. If you do not like someone’s work for whatever reason — Block the user. I will not stand for any hate/bullying in other people’s post because their work did not meet your expectations. This also goes for spectators who will not be submitting work of their own.

Finally, have fun! This event is about showing love and creativity for the french bastard and his ginger himbo hubby. Bring out your creativity and your best suit!

Late submissions will still be accepted up to 3 days after the event is over!

‼️If you feel like another participant’s work is breaking the rules or is offensive towards you or anyone else, be sure to let me know so proper actions will be taken

📫The account’s inbox will be open for any questions or even ideas that you have in regards of the event!

💔I genuinely do apologize, I had truly intended to have this out a few days ago, but … things happen. I hope you are not too mad or upset with me

🤍 Can’t wait to see all your guy’s works next month, see you then!

@hetaliacalendar if you wouldn’t mind reblogging for a little signal boost pls 😭

[my-castles-crumbling]

I got hate for not liking atyd bc I said it didn't represent (is this the word I should use, dunno) Slytherin Skittles much and I didn't like the fact how regulus was mentioned -actually not mentioned at all-

Well I accept it's very good fanfic and I enjoyed it, I just said it wasn't my favorite. And realized some people took it as canon literally. What.

I love the fic I just said my opinion can people be nice for once?

*dramatic sigh*

Anyway, okay so, I took the house test, like 15 times or so. 9 Slytherin, 6 Ravenclaw. From different sites, from wizarding world and such.

Then when I tried again in front of some friends I looked at the answers for Ravenclaw from internet and got Ravenclaw, and my friends says that's a Slytherin thing to do, well fuck you too Stacy, you are a Hufflepuff, do I rub it in your face? (No hate to puffs I love you guys) Anyway. I am Slytherclaw and I will say that but I was happy being known as Ravenclaw.

(I hate when I say I am Slytherin and people assume I love Snape. And then get mad I don't like him because apperantly he is the only 'good' character in my house. What.)

Anyway x3. What's your house? If it writes in your bio I will be so embarrassed but I can't read those colorful texts sorry..

I mean, I don't think there's anything wrong with liking or not liking a fic. I just always try to be careful with fic discourse in 'public' spaces because like...you never know who's reading what you're saying, you know? Like I've seen people say negative things about my writing, I've talked to fanfic writers who have had to deal with negative comments about their writing, and it can be upsetting. SO all this to say, I totally think you have a right to your opinion, but I don't think I'll elaborate more than that where anyone can read it! ATYD was the first Marauders fic I ever read so it'll always have a special place in my heart <3

Also, I think you're allowed to be whatever house you want. Harry proved that when he was sorted, right? But again, I don't want to say much more than that because like...I don't have hate towards other houses, for one. And people are allowed to like Snape if they want to and they're allowed to hate him if they want to. But I want fandom to be an inclusive space, so I'm not going judge people for who they like or don't like.

My house is Slytherin :)

[jeonqkooks]

our beloved summer (05) | jjk

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn't as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader

genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, drinking, swearing, crying, Sad Boy JK Hours ??, valentino!yoongi bc that should be a whole warning 🥵 even though he's there and not really there for literally 2 seconds lol

rating: PG-15

word count: 9.5k

note: this is the most stressed out i've ever been while trying to post a fic 💀 argh anyway, 2 obs updates in one month ?? is this even real life !! consider this a (lunar) new year's present from me to everyone who celebrates it and also to everyone who doesn't !! idk i'm bad at notes and i'm delirious so that's it 😗

series masterpost / main playlist ; interactive playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Hey, I feel like if we gave it one night You'd hate me less and make it alright Just wish that we could fight now I'd hold you on the comedown

Rockland - Gracie Abrams

One thing about you, is that you don’t do well with change.

After you moved out of the first apartment you got as an adult, you constantly went back to your old neighborhood even though it wasn’t close to your new place. You kept walking those familiar streets, kept shopping at the stores where the workers knew your name. At night, you still pictured yourself living there, with all of your furniture and clothes and decorations that you’ve already emptied from those old bones. Then, you imagined what the new tenant was like, if they could feel the lingering love you had for that apartment. You wondered if they were putting the coffee table you left behind to good use, or if they thought that it looked out of place among all of their belongings and had already thrown it away.

Jimin called you weird for that, but he didn’t know that you always leave a piece of yourself everywhere you go. The biggest pieces, you think, are hidden somewhere in a closet in your childhood bedroom where your mother still lives, and in the tiny space of your dorm room where you spent most of your college years.

It took you more than half a year to finally start considering your new apartment home. 

Because you hate change. Change is scary. Change is walking into a pitch-black tunnel with no flashlight, not knowing what awaits you in the darkness and not knowing if you’ll make it to the other side.

That isn’t to say that change is inherently bad. You’ve experienced good changes before. Arguably, Jungkook was a good change when he went from someone you couldn’t tolerate, to the love of your life back then. You were happy with him, so blissfully happy that for a while, you forgot what it was like to experience any other emotion.

Yoongi has always been your friend. It didn’t take you two very long to become well acquainted with one another and from there, develop a good friendship. You have never thought of him as anything other than a friend. Even when he was your boss, he still felt more like a friend.

As you sit next to him in a bar too empty for your liking – but seems right for a Tuesday night – you feel a palpable shift between the two of you.

When your phone vibrates with a notification, you glance at it only to exhale annoyedly – unclear whether this frustration is directed toward yourself, or the person blowing up your mobile; maybe it’s both. That’s the nth message that Jungkook has sent you in the last couple of hours, and you don’t need to read it to know that it’s probably another iteration of the same apology. How many different ways are there to say “Hey, I’m sorry for fucking the receptionist and then having the balls to tell you that you’re the unprofessional one when you didn’t even do anything.” Apparently a lot, because the texts just keep coming.  

“Jungkook again?” Yoongi asks from beside you. Fuck. You’ve mostly been silently moping since he brought you here, too enmeshed in your own web of muddled thoughts that you forgot he’s someone you need to make amends with too. 

You give him a nod but still continue to stare at the drink in front of you, trying to disentangle your Yoongi thoughts from your Jungkook ones. 

Taking a sip of your drink, your face manages to keep a grimace at bay as the liquid ambushes your tastebuds. You don’t like whiskey, but you need something to hate more than yourself tonight. When you set the glass down, the alcohol sloshes around like a compact sea of your own amber-colored miseries.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally. “This is unfair to you. I don’t know what came over me. I just want you to know that this isn’t me responding to…” To your confession.

“If you’re about to say what I think you’re about to say, then I have to stop you right now.”

“Yoongi…”

“I’m not saying that you can’t turn me down, although I hope you don’t do that,” he chuckles. “I’m just saying that whatever you do, whether you give me a chance or reject me, I want you to decide after you’ve really thought about it, about me.”

You can’t say no to that; it’s only fair. Yoongi knows what he deserves. You haven’t looked at him in any other way, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t. Didn’t you say it yourself, that maybe you should start putting yourself out there? Well, here is someone coming to you before you even have to look anywhere. You may not have expected Yoongi, but then, you didn’t expect Jungkook either.

Yoongi could be the good change you need.

Nevertheless, you want to tell him you’re sorry for the other night. It should be fairly simple, but the words have a hard time dislodging themselves from your throat.

“I’m sorry about what I said that night at dinner… and what I did…”

Yoongi props an elbow on the bar top and leans forward to rest his chin in the palm of his hand, his eyes glimmering with mischief. “Remind me what it is that you did again?”

“Come on, I’m serious.” You are grateful that he’s trying to keep it light, though.

“I’m serious too. I seem to have forgotten.”

“Yoongi…”

“Yes, Y/N?”

You sigh, shutting your eyes momentarily. Recalling the moment makes you flush with embarrassment, bringing a splash of color to your cheeks which Yoongi always seems to enjoy.

In a quiet voice, you say, “I’m sorry for throwing salt at you…”

“You threw salt at me!” He tips his head back, laughing freely. The bartender spares you two a glance at the sudden disruption. “You shouldn’t go around throwing salt at people!”

“Stop laughing! I’m trying to apologize.” You punch his arm out of habit and for a second there, you forget that your relationship with Yoongi isn’t the same anymore. Changed forever.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. Jeez, why are you so violent?” He rubs the spot where you hit him, muttering under his breath something about him bruising like a peach. “Apology accepted. No hard feelings.”

“Okay, good. But I still want you to know that if you were expecting anything from tonight…”

Yoongi ruffles your hair with a scoff. “I’m not that dense. Of course I’m not expecting anything.” When you peer at him with curious and unsure eyes, he continues, “Y/N, earlier you looked like you wanted to set the place on fire and Jungkook looked like he was about to shit himself. Tonight, I’m just a friend who’s here for you if you want to vent. We’re just two buddies having a drink, that’s all.”

He makes it sound so simple, while your brain is already going haywire.

Despite yourself, you chuckle at his words. You tell him how much you appreciate it, though you don’t really tell him anything about what happened this afternoon, just that Jungkook said some stuff that pissed you off. You can’t tell him exactly what Jungkook did to anger you without alluding to the confession for which Yoongi is letting you off the hook for now.

“Do you wanna come with me tomorrow?” Yoongi asks.

“Come with you where?”

“I have a shoot with Valentino in the morning.”

“You have a photoshoot not even 12 hours from now and you’re here drinking? Aren’t you gonna wake up puffy or something?”

“Yeah, my manager would kill me if she knows what I’m doing,” he replies casually, like his manager has a telepathic connection with him and she can sense him mocking her over a drink. When people see Agust D, they tend to only see the icy exterior that he dons. That tough, maybe even callous, image has sustained him in the entertainment industry for years. For many, Agust D seems intimidating and unapproachable. That’s how you felt when you first met him too. But after a while, you got to see Min Yoongi, and Min Yoongi is nothing if not warm and tender-hearted, even if he’s a little shit sometimes. At least, that’s what he has always been like to you. “She thinks I’m getting my beauty sleep right now.”

You lightly snort at that, telling him, “Yeah, you need it.”

When you start to yawn, Yoongi calls a driver to drop you off at your place. The ride is mostly silent, because you’re tired and because you’re not sure what to say to Yoongi in the presence of a stranger taking you home. The car pulls up to your building soon enough, and before you can step out and tell him goodnight, he offers to walk you up. He takes the elevator with you to your floor, how gallant but unnecessary. When you reach your door, you wonder whether you should invite him in for a glass of water or something. If this was a week – or even just a couple of days – earlier, you would’ve had no reason to hesitate.  He doesn’t ask if he can come in but instead takes one of your hands.

“I see you’ve been giving yourself some TLC. They’re a lot better now,” he comments, smoothing his thumb over your skin. You’ve been diligent with your hand care routine since he gave you that lotion. It feels nice, and it smells amazing. Besides, your hands were starting to hurt anyway.

Silence descends upon the two of you as you become aware of Yoongi touching you, and the weight of the answer you’ve yet to give him. He must feel you stiffen, because he lets you go and smiles.

“Relax, princess. Get some sleep, you’re the one who needs it. I said I’ll let you think about it, didn’t I? Stop stressing so much.” His index finger taps your cheek playfully, so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. The wink that he tacks on makes you roll your eyes. You watch Yoongi make his way to the elevator, step in and press the button for the ground floor. He maintains eye contact with you as he waits for the doors to shut, and you don’t think you’ve really noticed before how Yoongi carries himself with such confidence and poise even when he’s off-camera. That’s just the kind of person he is and it’s… kind of attractive.

You can’t even fish around in your bag for your keys, you just stand there because he keeps your gaze trained on him. His eyes are alluring even under the shitty lighting of your building’s elevator. Before the lift closes, his voice carries over from the metal box to your door, and you don’t know if it’s the echo of his low timbre in the empty hallway that makes you shiver, or if it’s just Yoongi.

“I’ve waited this long, what’s a little more time?”

One week. This is a record for you and Taehyung.

You’re still baffled by his attitude that night, and no one has cleared anything up for you. He was right, but that doesn’t mean you were wrong. You stand by your initial reaction. Could anyone really blame you for that? In your defense, who the fuck could believe that a worldclass megastar has romantic feelings for them? Not to mention that the person whom the megastar in question has feelings for is you! You, the pathetic girl who can’t seem to get over her ex. Yoongi had to sit through a whole hour of you drunkenly crying over Jungkook, for fuck’s sake!

That really wasn’t your best moment, but it’s not like you even remember it anyway.

Your phone buzzes to life with Jimin’s face taking over the whole screen – a photo of your hand squishing his full cheeks until his lips jut out. “Hey Minnie,” you greet him once you’ve swiped to accept the call.

“Y/N,” he says, sounding out of breath. “Where are you?”

“I’m at home. Where are you? Are you doing pull-ups again? You know you practically hyperventilate when you do more than 3.”

“Shut up, I’m at dance practice. But listen, have you talked to Tae yet?”

You purse your lips at the mention of his name. “No. We’re supposed to go grocery shopping tomorrow like we always do, but I guess that won’t be happening.”

Jimin hums, like he’s in thought. He doesn’t speak again until his breathing has calmed. “Well, can you go to his place right now?”

“Why?”

“He’s sick and I’m kind of worried about him. He hasn’t answered my messages.”

You frown. “Tae’s sick?”

“Yeah, he must’ve caught a cold the other day. Could you go over there and check on him? I would go but I can’t leave for another few hours.”

You agree to go, because of course you would. Even if you’re stubborn and hot-headed, no amount of pettiness could make you ignore your friends especially when they’re unwell and need somebody. Especially when it’s Taehyung who’s been there for you so many times.

You stay on the call with Jimin for another ten whole minutes even after you have said you would go, because he keeps droning on and on about how shitty Taehyung looked yesterday.

Before you go to your best friend’s apartment, you stop by your regular diner to pick up some comfort food for him, and the pharmacy for some medicine. During the rest of the drive there, you start getting a little worried. When Taehyung takes care of a sick you or Jimin, he practically goes into full mama bear mode, making sure that you’re as comfortable as humanly possible and not leaving your side until you’re a functional human being again. But when it comes to his own wellbeing, Taehyung doesn’t seem to be that concerned. It’s not that he neglects his health, but you wish that he would show himself the same kindness that he shows you.

It feels weird to use the spare key that you have to his place, considering that you aren’t really on speaking terms. In hindsight, it feels so childish. How old are you to still be pulling the silent treatment on each other? 

You ring the doorbell and wait a couple minutes until you hear Taehyung shuffling to get the door from the other side. When it swings open, he tenses up a bit, not expecting to see you at all. His hair is damp; he must’ve just gotten out of the shower. Taehyung doesn’t look as bad as Jimin described though. Just some dark circles under his eyes.

You raise a hand and wave. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he parrots somewhat awkwardly. It’s understandable; neither of you thought you’d be the one to break the ice. “What are you doing here?”

Bringing your other hand up, you show him the bag you’re holding. “Brought you soup and cold meds. Jimin said you’re sick.”

His brows knit together in confusion. “Thanks…” he says slowly, “but I’m not sick?”

“But Jimin said you caught a cold and you’ve been wheezing like a dying fisherman and–” You purse your lips, catching onto what’s really happening here. “He tricked me, didn’t he?”

Park Jimin…

Taehyung tuts under his breath, shaking his head at the ground. “Mhmm.”

“He could go into acting. He sounded really worried on the phone, like you were on the verge of death.”

“No, yeah, he really could,” Taehyung agrees. “Jimin is bizarrely good at lying sometimes. We should be worried about that.”

You laugh, and that makes him feel like the air is relaxed enough for him to laugh too. It only lasts a few seconds before you’re left staring at each other again. You hate it. You really, really hate it.

You thought that the universe sent you a sign, gave you a reason to come over and make nice with your best friend. Turns out that “the universe” is really just Park Jimin and his scheming tongue. But you’re already here, and you have to talk to him eventually. Jimin might have lied, but you would’ve just waited for Taehyung to reach out first to offer an olive branch anyway.

“Well, can I come in?” you ask. It’s weird that you even have to ask.

“Of course,” he says absentmindedly, stepping to one side to let you in. He takes the bag from your hand and brings it to the kitchen while you kick off your shoes and change into the pair of fuzzy bear slippers that he keeps for you here.

You want to tell him what happened as much as you hate admitting that you were wrong.

“Have you eaten?” you ask, a sad attempt at delaying what will inevitably come.

“No,” comes his simple reply.

“Should we eat? I bought enough for two people.”

“But I’m not sick.”

“You don’t have to be sick to eat chicken noodle soup.”

Taehyung looks at you like the thought has genuinely never crossed his mind. “Interesting… Okay, then.”

You put on an episode of your favorite show while he heats up the food. When you both sit down to eat, it’s mostly silent while the TV continues to play. The most you and Taehyung thing that you exchange in these 30 minutes is him saying soup tastes like shit when you’re not actually sick, and you telling him to stop being such a hater. When you both finish, Taehyung rinses the bowls and puts them in his dishwasher. 

Before you came over, you thought you would only be making him eat, take his meds, and sit there for a bit while he sleeps. If you had known this would happen, you would’ve prepared yourself for it.

But then again, you were tricked into coming.

Ugh. Just do it. You are so freaking dramatic.

“Well,” you start, keeping your voice light and trying not to stand around like you’re out of place in his apartment, “you were right.”

“About what?” Taehyung asks, wiping his hands on a towel. 

“About Yoongi and… all that.”

“Oh.” His expression is one you aren’t too familiar with. There’s surprise – yes, that you’re making peace with him – in the way his brows slightly lift, but there’s something else too. Something odd that you can’t quite put a finger on, and it makes you slightly uneasy because you don’t like it when you can’t read Taehyung. 

He’s pretty quick to mask it, and it makes you even more conscious that there’s something he isn’t telling you. Of course, this feeling is miniscule, practically a seed compared to the blooming garden of nerves that the events of these past few days have dumped upon you, so you can’t categorize it as a high-level priority to nitpick. You need to deal with your main concerns first, aka what to do about Yoongi and Jungkook, both individually and together, and then you can begin to inspect what’s going on with Taehyung.

It all sounds so easy in theory.

Taehyung goes to the couch and you wordlessly follow. You sit down when he pats the spot next to him – your spot. “How did you come to that conclusion?” he asks. “You know I don’t get to hear you tell me I’m right very often.”

Because you aren’t right very often, is what you almost say. It’s light and playful, and you both know it would diffuse the leftover tension, but you chuck the words aside in favor of something more serious. There isn’t that much to catch him up on, but there is a lot to unpack from the few things that did transpire over the last few days.

You give him a recap of what happened with Yoongi and subsequently what happened with Jungkook. Those are the two things weighing the most on your mind. You haven’t really processed anything; blame it on Yoongi for telling you that you have time to think things through.

One thing you love about Taehyung is that he doesn’t tell you what to do, but rather helps you sort things out on your own. Come to think of it, these conversations often take place on his couch. He’s like your own personal therapist at this point.

“Can you give me a hug?” You probably can’t ask a licensed therapist to do this, though.

He softens even more with a smile. Opening his arms, he says, “C’mere.”

You shuffle over to sink into his embrace. You sigh as you practically melt in his hold. Taehyung is a little bony, but hugging him feels exactly like hugging a giant teddy bear. He’s soft, and always knows how to hold you just tight enough, how to stroke your hair the way you like, how to be just the comforting presence you need amidst a whirlwind of anxious thoughts. And he smells like jasmine, though that might be because you keep deliberately gifting him colognes with scents that you like.

With your chin perched on his shoulder, you feel yourself start to relax, walls coming down if only briefly.

“You okay?” Taehyung asks after a moment.

You’re suddenly aware that you’re crying. You don’t know how it started, but now that the waterworks have begun, it seems like there’s no stopping. “No,” you sniffle. “Can I just…”

You feel him exhale. “Of course.”

Taehyung is one of the few people – oh who are you kidding? He might be the only one – whom you feel comfortable enough around to let yourself cry to your heart’s content. 

You’ve been feeling it for days now, even before all that shit happened. Every cell in your body is constantly vibrating, with anxiety, with guilt, with a heaviness that sinks into your bones. You’re shaking even when your hands are perfectly still. People, memories, thoughts you keep only to yourself – they all phase through you, not giving you a single moment to catch your breath.

When it rains, it pours.

Everything is weighing you down like someone has tied you to an anchor and pushed you into the unrelenting, unforgiving water. Grief is an ocean and you don’t know how to swim. Your job, your friends, the unbridled mess that you call a love life… Everything is changing and you’re the same. You’re different, but somehow still the same. Deep down, you’re still that scared little girl who doesn’t know what to make of the world. Your knees are bleeding but your mother is telling you not to cry. Why can’t you cry when you’re hurting? Every minute feels like a lifetime but every day feels like it’s going by in two seconds. Things are moving so fast. Things are moving too slow. You can’t remember the last time you actually cried. Really cried. Bawled. Sobbed. Let out all the dirt until you can see your roots again. Until you originate back to being a blank canvas. Sometimes it feels like that’s the only way that can help you see things more clearly. Your vision might blur for a while but afterward, it’ll have washed everything away. At least a little bit. So you can get your footing again.

You miss clarity, or the illusion that you have any control over your life. You miss looking out the window and have something to look forward to, even on overcast days where the sun can’t be bothered to bring you light. You miss hearing your heart beat a melody that doesn’t ache, doesn’t rattle you to the core. Pieces of you have been held together by nothing but tape and glue for the longest time. Eventually, they’ll deteriorate, and you’ll go back to being skin and bones always on the verge of falling apart.

Some of your best writing was never meant for anybody to hear. The best lines that you’ve scribbled down are diary entries disguised as music, as poetry. They’re results of your lowest and weakest moments, it just happens that there was a journal lying around and you thought that if you had to keep all that sadness inside for a second longer, you would burst. Those immortalized lines represent your heartbreak, your self-hatred, your sorrow and your grief. They come from a lifetime of unshed tears, from the burden of having a heart that feels too much but is always silenced. Words are your escape when time rushes through you like a child skipping stones. Everything hurts all the time but no one knows and you don’t bother explaining to anyone how you wish you could be a different person living a different life because it seems like the universe has made a mistake with this one. How it feels like a divine power has miscalculated and misread your false stoicism as resilience. Just because a person carries it well doesn’t mean they have to carry it at all. 

Sometimes you like to muse that if anyone could catch a glimpse of what it’s like inside, they’d think, Wow. How are you holding all of that weight? How are you so silent through it all? How do you live with an ache so allconsuming that I can hardly see you underneath it?

It’s the only way you know how to express yourself. But even then, when you’re screaming and burning, you’re still quiet. Those words are your heart on paper, raw and bleeding all over the place, covered in a million cracks that no one can see or even pay enough attention to notice. They’re there whether anybody likes it or not. They’re right there, red ink staining white pages, begging in a voice small like a child asking for love. Please see me. I’m here. Nobody taught me how to swim. Please see me.

But nobody does. They walk past you every day. They sit with you, smile at you and laugh with you. They leave you. They stay. They break your heart. Even when they love you, nobody sees you.

You love Taehyung, but you don’t think he understands. He knows you better than almost everyone in this world and he tries to help you in any way he can, but at the end of the day, maybe this isn’t something that a person can understand even if they want to. It’s worse, to realize that perhaps it isn’t because people don’t care enough to see it, but that no matter how hard they try, they can’t.

The only person who has ever come the closest is Jungkook, with his big doe eyes that always see through you and see into you. Sometimes, you think there might be parts of you that he could see but you still don’t. He knew things about yourself that you never want anybody to find out, and he loved you anyway. He went the lengths that nobody ever did because they all gave up after a while. Someone once told you that you felt like a fortress wall impossible to climb, that nobody had the time, the patience to wait for you. In other words, you weren’t worth it. Not worthless, just not worth the effort it would take to break down your walls.

But Jungkook showed up and tried, every day. The one person that you never saw coming. You might have resisted at first, but then you became his biggest supporter. You were rooting for him to know you, how fucked up is that? You were right there. He was so close.

And then he stopped.

You suppose that’s what makes everything awful now – to know that you should let go of him when he’s the only person who ever came that close.

You don’t know how long Taehyung has had to sit here, comforting you like this, but at one point, your stomach starts growling and you feel your best friend trying to hold back a giggle. Jungkook might have mastered the art of loving you, but Taehyung is an expert at comforting you.

“Shut up.” You wipe away the dampness on your cheeks with the back of your hand and push Taehyung off. “Crying makes me hungry.”

“Should I order us fried chicken then?”

“And soju. Get some soju too.”

Jimin is a strategic trickster. There was no dance practice. He just ran around his apartment ten times until his breathing turned ragged, which if you ask anyone, was completely unnecessary. He’s very extra, but at least it was effective.

After he got off the phone with you, Jimin immediately went to your shared phone tracker app – today was one of those times where it proves to be the most useful. He stared at the little circle with a silly photo of you as it moved from your address to Taehyung’s with a couple pit stops along the way. Jimin giggled to himself when he saw your circle meet Taehyung’s, because at that point you two must have realized already that you’d been swindled. Of course, there was always a chance of you leaving the moment you figured out you had come all that way for no reason at all, but when Jimin saw after a couple of hours that the two circles are still next to each other, he knew that you and Taehyung made up already.

Jimin sends a message to your group chat, a simple hello but Taehyung knows what he’s trying to get at. The text thread shared by the three of you lights up with a selfie of you and Taehyung each holding a chicken drumstick and wearing a content smile. In the background, there are some soju bottles, a box of chicken and some fries.

Jimin doesn’t question why your eyes look a little puffier than usual. He just replies with a smiley emoji and a thumbs up. The triumph of his mini victory almost makes him forget that there’s someone else in his home.

Jungkook peeks over Jimin’s shoulder to peek at his phone, curious to see what’s making his friend so delighted. When he sees you and Taehyung on Jimin’s screen, he sinks again, heart sitting in the pit of his stomach. The words you told him just the day before ring loud in his ears, as if they haven’t been stuck on his mind, playing on a loop. 

You’re such a fucking hypocrite.

You weren’t wrong, but man, did that feel like a punch in the gut.

He goes to sit across from Jimin, taking note of every single sound that notifies his friend of a new message. For the first time, he feels like an outsider, like he’s intruding on a private moment.

“I fucked up,” Jungkook admits quietly, cracking open a can of beer and taking a long sip. It makes Jimin look up and put away his phone. “With Y/N,” Jungkook clarifies.

“Yeah, I’ve been informed. That was the stupidest thing you’ve done in a while.”

“In a while? When was the last time I did something stupid?”

Jimin doesn’t even have to think about it. He answers right away, “When you left her.”

Jungkook hums, unclear whether the noise is meant in agreement or just in acknowledgment. His tongue darts out to swipe across his dry lips before he breathes out. “I don’t know what to do. She hasn’t replied to any of my texts. I feel like a fucking asshole.”

“From what I’ve been told, you were a fucking asshole,” Jimin says lightly, his words emphasized with a chuckle like he finds Jungkook’s predicament so funny. “I can’t believe you would say that shit about Yoongi to her right after he confessed.”

Cue a pregnant pause, and a pair of doe eyes staring right into Jimin’s skull, unable to decipher if what he’s hearing is a joke or not.

“Yoongi– what?”

Jimin slaps himself internally. Shit. It slipped, he swears. “Nothing,” he sighs, but he knows it wouldn’t be dropped so easily.

“No. Not nothing,” Jungkook sits up straight and puts his chilled beer down on the table, missing the coaster entirely just to piss off his friend. “The fuck do you mean Yoongi confessed? Confessed what?”

Jimin sighs with pursed lips. “What else? What do you think he confessed to?”

Jungkook gulps, and blinks a few times. When? Why? Was that the reason you looked so distraught yesterday before all that shit went down between you and him? Who confesses to someone in a freaking break room?

Then Jungkook remembers that you and Yoongi went out for drinks last night. What did he say? What did you say? His stomach churns at the thought of something… happening between the two of you.

Jimin takes in his friend’s dumbfounded expression. “Why are you shocked?” he asks. “I thought you expected something like this. Isn’t it why you spewed all that crap about Yoongi flirting with her?”

“Fuck, I don’t know! It feels like the guy is out to get me for some goddamn reason. I thought he was just playing with Y/N to piss me off!”

Jimin shakes his head, looking thoughtful. “Yoongi wouldn’t do that to her.”

“How would you know?”

“Because when they first worked together, from the things that she told us, the stuff that Yoongi would do for her, Taehyung and I thought he liked her back then too,” Jimin says. “This has nothing to do with you.”

It sucks. It fucking sucks.

“Should I go over there?” Jungkook asks, a newfound sense of urgency in his voice that borderlines panic. He’s acting like this fact that Jimin just dumped upon him is unraveling just as this conversation is taking place, but in reality, he’s one of the last people to know. 

“And tell her what? If you’ve said sorry a million times and she hasn’t responded, then saying it one more time won’t change anything.”

“What am I supposed to do when I see her tomorrow?”

“Nothing? Are you incapable of leaving things alone? If she wants to ignore you, let her ignore you. If she wants to yell at you, let her yell at you. If she wants nothing to do with you, let her do that too. Why do you keep making things worse for yourself?”

Jungkook runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “So your solution is for me to just let her hate me?”

Jimin levels him with a look, which just annoys him even more. “You had no problem with that before.”

“If you’re not gonna help me, should I ask Taehyung then?”

“Don’t go to Tae about this.”

“Why not?”

“Just don’t,” Jimin snaps, and it makes Jungkook falter for a few seconds before the petulance in him clouds his better judgment.

“Why? He’s her best friend. They’re practically joined at the hip. He’s gotta be able to help me with this.”

“You really want to go to Taehyung for advice on how to suck up to your ex-girlfriend? He’s the most protective of her. What makes you think he would be willing to help you?”

“He’s my friend too, isn’t he? Shouldn’t he want to help all of us be civil with each other?”

“Yeah, he’s your friend. I’m your friend and Y/N’s too. And you’re right, all of us should get along, but we shouldn’t be put in a situation where we’d have to try. You did that to us and nothing is going to be the same again. I don’t even know why you did it. You kept your mouth shut for years no matter how hard me and Taehyung tried to get it out of you. Now you suddenly can’t make peace with the consequences of your actions? Now you want us to help you win over the person you fucked over, who is also our closest friend? I don’t get you, JK. I’m starting to regret not letting Taehyung punch you back then.”

Jungkook stares at his friend. Is this shock that he’s feeling? He still remembers that night, because he doesn’t forget a lot of things. He can’t forget it. He had never seen Taehyung – who is usually so calm and cordial – get that angry before. His friend, who is a saint of a man, felt so much rage toward Jungkook that Jimin had to physically hold him back.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Jimin asks. “You’re not used to me not being on your side all the time?”

He knows that. The only person who seems to be on Jungkook’s side is himself, and sometimes he isn’t sure if this is even true at all. What you told him at the dance studio’s opening party, what Jimin is telling him now, and even the things that Taehyung shouted at him a couple of years back – it’s all true. He knows these things already, but it feels different to hear them from other people. You’re all right; nobody is overreacting. To an outsider, it might come across as harsh, but to anyone who knows anything, it’s rightfully deserved.

Nevertheless, Jungkook admits quietly, “Actually, yeah.”

Jimin sighs, because he knows that his friend has no malicious intent toward you or toward anyone. Jimin knows that Jungkook doesn’t mean to hurt you, any more than he already has. Jungkook is even more crazed now that Yoongi is somehow a factor in all of this. It’s the insecurities bubbling at the surface. He’s panicking and he can’t even see straight. This is just his own stupid take on fight or flight. It was flight for a while, and now apparently it’s not. Jimin doesn’t really understand it, but he gets that this is his friend’s way of dealing with shit. “I tried, man. I did. But it’s really, really hard to have your back on this.”

Jungkook is well aware of it too – that to leave you alone is probably the best thing he can do at this point. Everything he says or does seems to backfire; instead of pulling you closer, all he manages to do is push you further away and make you hate him more than you already do. 

But in a way, isn’t that a good thing? Better to have you hate him than be indifferent toward him. After all, there’s a thin line between love and hate. You yourself blurred this line long ago. You can do it again, can’t you?

Jungkook sits there for a while longer to finish his beer, even though he doesn’t have anything else to say. It’s clear what Jimin’s stance on this is, and no matter what he says, it’s unlikely that anyone will help him try and get back in your good graces. 

Before he leaves, Jimin says something that makes him nauseous. Makes him want to fucking cry and kick something and speed over to your apartment just so you could reassure Jungkook that he’s still the one you hate the most. That all of your feelings, whether they’re good or bad, are still reserved for him and only him.

It isn’t what his best friend should tell him, but it’s what a good friend would say. It's not about Jungkook, it's not about Jimin or Taehyung or anyone else. It's about you, who has been hurt the most here.

“If she wants to choose Yoongi, let her do that too.”

[10:48] Yoongi: Attachment: 2 Images.

[10:49] Yoongi: got yelled at for showing up puffy yesterday

You tap on the notifications and the photos pop up within seconds. It’s Yoongi at his Valentino shoot probably. He never used to send you stuff like this, nor asked you to come watch him at his photoshoots. Why would he? 

You zoom in on his face to inspect if he really was puffy, but you can’t really tell. Maybe if you were a makeup artist with a sharper eye, you would see it. But under your regular-person gaze, everything seemed fine. Yoongi looked handsome in the pictures.

[10:55] You: you don’t look puffy to me

[10:57] Yoongi: so how do i look to you? ;)

[10:58] You: the fits look good

[11:01] Yoongi: i wasn’t asking about the fits

[11:05] You: and i’m telling you the fits look good anyway

[11:07] Yoongi: what about the model?

[11:10] You: are you fishing for compliments?

[11:11] Yoongi: what if i am?

[11:14] You: the model looks Not Puffy

[11:16] Yoongi: you’re no fun ;(

You consider your next reply for a moment. It doesn’t seem like that big a deal. You want to send it. It seems innocent enough, and it’s the truth. A simple praise can’t hurt, right?

Your fingertips tingle just typing the words out. You’re suddenly so jittery for some reason as your thumb hovers over the arrow symbol that would whoosh away your message. It's a good kind of jittery. You might even say that you’re excited.

[11:22] You: the model looks good too

You put your phone face-down on the table, not even checking when it vibrates with Yoongi’s response to your latest text. It’s so weird that you’re feeling like this, maybe because it’s been so long since someone has shown an actual interest in you? Or is it because it’s Yoongi? If it were anyone else, would you still react the same?

It’s weird, but not necessarily weird in a bad way. You just aren’t used to it, or it’s been such a long time that you forgot what it feels like to be… wanted? You don’t think about it often but it’s true, you’ve missed the thrill of being chased.

“So… word on the street is you have a secret song.”

Seokjin’s voice makes you glance up, wondering who he could be talking to when the only people in the room beside him are you and Jungkook – whom you haven’t spoken a word to all morning despite him glancing not-so-subtly at you every two seconds. When you got here this morning, there was already a chai latte on the table with your name on it. The order was too specific for it to be Seokjin, but you didn’t say anything.

“The street?” you ponder for a moment, knowing exactly who the culprit is. “Is that what Yoongi calls himself these days? He’s been here for what? A couple weeks? And he’s already blabbed to you.”

“So it’s true?” Seokjin leans back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Yoongi said it’s real good. Top shelf kinda stuff. And you know he never says things like that.”

It’s not a song, or at least that isn’t what you would call it. Maybe more like an essay composed of sentences that go together like misfit puzzle pieces. You don’t think you would ever rework it and pitch it to anyone because it’s yours and it’s personal. You would never tell anyone about it, and Yoongi wouldn’t have come to know about its existence if he hadn’t stumbled across it in your journal by accident.

“Don’t listen to Yoongi,” you say. “At this point, I feel like you should know that Yoongi tends to exaggerate sometimes.”

“He never seems to be exaggerating when it comes to you,” Seokjin muses. You almost blush, thinking about what else Yoongi could’ve told Seokjin. He doesn’t notice the split second in which your cheeks redden just the slightest, or he doesn’t mind it enough to comment. “What’s the title?”

You shrug, saying nothing.

“You can’t even tell me the title? Damn, Y/N. Are you the CIA?”

“I’m not telling you because there is no title. There’s not even a song, just something I go back to sometimes. It’s mostly just word vomit. I promise you, it’s nothing.”

“Tell that to Yoongi. He told me whoever’s gonna get that song is one hell of a lucky bastard.”

Again, what is it with the praise? You know working with Yoongi and being associated with his last album gave your career a boost, but you weren’t aware that he was talking about you with other people. Maybe he only does it with Seokjin because they’re close, but still, it makes you itch with curiosity.

“By any chance are you gonna give it to… me?” Seokjin asks, and seems to immediately hear how flawed it sounds. You stare at him blankly, trying to bite back an amused smile, and even Jungkook turns his head to look too. Seokjin’s ears turn red in an instant. “Okay, that came out kinda wrong. I’m really, really sorry. But you know what I mean.”

You continue to stare at him until his face is so flushed, you swear he’s like a tomato that’s about to burst. You can see why Yoongi likes to tease people this way. “Okay, boss,” you acquiesce with a laugh, relieving Seokjin of the fear that he genuinely offended you. “If the song ever gets to see the light of day, I’ll make sure to ask you to lend your voice.”

“Ah, so you admit it’s a song.” He grins brightly at your empty promise, making you roll your eyes half-heartedly. He goes back to his normal shade in a minute, no longer ridiculously red like a cartoon character. “What’s it about?”

You ponder his question silently, missing the way Jungkook takes this moment to glance at you. When you look up again, he’s already averting his gaze.

What is it about? That’s a question that you yourself have never really considered. It’s about everything and it’s about nothing. It’s love, it’s loss, it’s the infinite in-between. You give Seokjin an answer that won’t satisfy him, but it’s the truth.

“I haven’t figured it out yet. I’ll let you know when I do.”

He tuts at you, like he was expecting the obscurity from you anyway. “You’re really not beating the CIA allegations,” he says.

You flip him the bird, which only compels him to stick out his tongue and make a face at you. Then, he diverts his attention to the person who hasn’t contributed anything this whole time.

“JK, why are you so quiet today? We’re not gonna eat you.”

Jungkook mutters something to Seokjin that you don’t quite catch because the words come out of his mouth like an inarticulate mess, which is so unlike him. He sounds jumpy, like he’s too nervous to speak in front of you. Seokjin’s eyes land on you again as he mouths a confused What?

You just shrug, and Seokjin has to take Jungkook’s weird response as him having an off day. The man checks his phone, lets out a quiet whine, then addresses the both of you. “I have a shoot this afternoon so you two will have to hold down the fort, by the way.”

You come back from your solo lunch date to an empty studio.

Well, almost empty. There’s something new that wasn’t there before.

Another chai latte waiting for you equates to another apology hoping to be acknowledged. The paper cup is still hot when your hand reaches out to touch it. You sink into your chair with a sigh. You could laugh at yourself for feeling so nostalgic at the sight of a beverage in the middle of a workday.

Jungkook walks in about 15 minutes later, and the air turns suffocating at his arrival. He feels it too, you know he does. 

You chew on your bottom lip until it starts to hurt, bite down on it until it almost bleeds.

“Jungkook,” you say, catching his attention. It looks like he didn’t expect you to initiate any conversation. It’s not like you want to, but you have to. You keep having to do this, because he just wouldn’t listen. “Stop buying me drinks.”

It translates to: Stop saying sorry. Stop trying to make things right. Stop doing things you think would make me happy. Stop making me have the same argument with you over and over again.

“Because you wouldn’t hear me out,” he says, and proceeds to repeat the one thing that you’re sick of hearing from him. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” you verbalize it. “If it’s not about work, I don’t think it’s necessary for me to hear it, Jungkook. I don’t want to hear it.”

“You do need to hear it. Because I can’t function properly until you know how sorry I am.”

“Well, that sounds like a you problem.”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“Hear me out,” he says, sounding a little firmer now but you still catch the crack in his voice. “Please.”

Jungkook must take the way you hesitate to shut down him as reluctant permission for him to keep going, because he stands up and moves to a spot closer to you. Not close enough that he could reach out and touch you, but enough for you to see the tiny mole under his bottom lip and how it quivers when he looks at you.

Fuck. You’re letting him win again.

“Okay, fine. Talk then. I’m listening. You’re sorry, right? You keep saying you’re sorry for everything, but what exactly is everything? What are you even sorry about? Are you sorry about annoying me right now, or are you sorry about being a prick the other day, or are you sorry about leaving me five years ago? When did you become this pathetic, Jungkook?”

“W–what?”

“When did you become so pathetic?” you repeat. “If you had to come back, couldn’t you come back as someone better? Someone who’s sure of himself and has a good life, not this… person who has to grovel at my feet for forgiveness. Even when you were at your lowest, you weren’t like this. I don’t even know who this Jungkook is. What happened to you?”

If you think that you saw him at his lowest, then you’re wrong. He didn’t hit rock bottom until he’d left you and had to live with what he chose to do. 

“You’re right. I am pathetic,” Jungkook agrees, dropping his gaze to the floor like he’s ashamed. “But fuck, I’m trying to be worthy of you.”

It’s a truth that he doesn’t want to face, doesn’t want to admit how very real it is until you’ve just said it and it fucking guts him. He knows his friends pity him sometimes, even if they don’t want to view him as someone to be pitied. No matter how much of a front he puts up, he knows that Jimin and Taehyung see right through him. They won’t say it to his face, and for that Jungkook has gotten away with avoiding this fact for so long. But to hear it from you, to watch you spell it out for him, it hurts.

He wants to mention Yoongi, but he doesn’t know how to phrase it in a way that wouldn’t immediately aggravate you. After all, bringing up Yoongi is what got him into this mess, isn’t it?

Regardless, he wants to ask you a question that he already knows the answer to. What does Yoongi have that he doesn’t? The answer is: A lot of things. Yoongi has a lot of things that Jungkook doesn’t, one of them being the self-assurance to not run away when it comes to you and what you deserve.

He wants to ask, but he doesn’t, because he’s scared it might drive you right into Yoongi’s arms and Jungkook can’t compete with a man like that.

He can barely keep up even with just himself in the running.

There’s a big question mark that pops up in your head, along with a slight sting in your eyes that you blink away. You’ve never seen Jungkook like this before. This whole time, was it not only you who was miserable?

He looks so small that it breaks your heart. For once, you aren’t sad for yourself but you’re sad for him. It never occurred to you that he could’ve been lonely too, having to keep all of this inside because you know he didn’t share it with anyone else. You catch a glimpse of him again, like you did when you were making ramen together in your kitchen while a storm was raging outside. In a lot of ways, Jungkook is still that kid stuck in an adult’s body, lost and scared and loved you. It feels like you could’ve seen him in the same ocean while you were just trying to keep your head above water.

The sight of him, so vulnerable and astray, placates you. Your resolve crumbles, but not like it was ever that strong to begin with. You suppose you could see why he was being a jerk to you. Even though it doesn’t justify what he said, you understand just a little bit where he was coming from. You find yourself forgiving him for some of it. It’s part of letting things go, right?

But no matter how much you want to reach out and comfort him, you know you shouldn’t. What are you supposed to do in a situation like this? You’re confused and it feels like you two have been going around in a circle, looking for a solution that doesn’t seem to exist.

Coexisting doesn’t work. Telling him to leave things alone doesn’t work. What else can you do?

Why do you have to resolve a problem that isn’t even yours? Jungkook says he’s trying, but his efforts keep making your life harder and harder. You practically blew up in his face, then apologized for being harsh even though you were fully aware that you had nothing to be sorry for. You called him a hypocrite and now you’re ready to cave just because he’s on the verge of shedding a few tears. This constant back and forth between your anger and your reluctance to see that anger through is possibly the thing that’s hindering you.

You can’t – and shouldn’t – accommodate him anymore. You have to put your foot down, no matter how difficult it is with the lingering ghost of your past love.

Because you’re always weak when it comes to Jungkook.

Because you’re still holding onto something.

Because Jungkook will always be the first person that you have ever loved, and those four years meant a lot to you even if they didn’t to him. Maybe it’s even fair to say that you might never truly get over it, and that doesn’t have to be such a terrible thing. Maybe he was never the person you thought he was, or maybe you never meant as much to him as he did to you. Somehow, that’s okay. It’s manageable because it’s routine at this point. You’ve internalized it. The years have taught you that sometimes, things get shitty just because they can and you just have to deal with it.

The intrinsic pain of the human experience. C’est la vie.

What a world this is.

Is it bad that you’re thinking about Yoongi in a moment like this?

Yoongi could be your future, if you’d let him.

You should let him. Maybe this is your answer right here. 

“Jungkook, let’s stop.” He looks at you with crestfallen eyes, but you have to keep going. The only way out is through. “Let’s stop. You want me to listen to you, but you haven’t been listening to me. I don’t have the strength to keep this up anymore, and I have told you that repeatedly but you wouldn’t listen. Jungkook, move on.”

You pretend not to notice how his lip trembles even more. “What if I don’t want to move on?”

This feels like a conversation that should’ve happened ages ago. Five years ago, you should’ve screamed at him, cried with him, held each other as you both fell apart. He stripped you of that right and gave you no say at all.

“You’re being awfully selfish,” you tell him, but in your head, you’re already thinking about what his words actually mean. 

“Have you completely written me off then? Is there nothing at all that I can do? Because I would do anything if you asked. You know that.”

Your throat is so dry that it feels like you’re swallowing sand. You dig everything back up again until you find the memory of that day hidden at the very bottom.

It’s terrible. He’s making you relive it again.

“I remember calling for you and you didn’t even look back,” you say, but your voice breaks toward the end. “I can’t trust you anymore.”

Jungkook just stares at you then, and for the longest time, neither of you say anything. This is the first time that you two have addressed the problem, properly addressed it instead of half-heartedly sweeping it under the rug like you tried to do. 

You breathe in, he breathes out. You hate the way you feel, and you resent the way he looks like he’s breaking down just as badly. There are tears in those eyes, tears that Jungkook doesn’t let spill because he defiantly wipes them away with the back of his hand after a moment. 

When he speaks next, you want the world to end.

“Then I’ll earn your trust back. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I will.”

— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted january 21, 2023]

[the-painted-siren]

Anything At All

Summary: Lloyd is an adult who’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself—or so he wants Zane to believe. Good thing Zane doesn’t believe. Notes: A little thing I wrote for Round 1 of Who Wrote That in the Ninjago fic server I’m part of. Decided to polish it off and post it bc I had a good time writing it.

“You’re upset.”

It’s a statement, not a question. 

Lloyd glances up, his expression one that Zane knows all too well: brows creased, face pinched, eyes gleaming with a sheen of exhaustion. Lloyd leans back in his chair, an irritated grumble rumbling in his throat. 

“I am not.” Lloyd throws his pencil onto the stack of scrolls before him. The names of each of his students lay across the pages, accompanied by notes, diagrams, and schedules. Eraser shavings and crumpled-up papers overflow on his desk. 

“It's normal to be upset,” Zane says. “You're stressed from a long day.” 

Lloyd waves him off, yawning. “I’ve seen worse days,” he mutters. “I can get through this one.” 

“Have you eaten today?” 

Lloyd combs his fingers through his hair, a heavy sigh rolling out of him as he sinks down into his chair. He doesn’t look at Zane for the longest time, but the corners of his mouth turn to a pout like a child that’s been caught stealing sweets before dinner. 

“No,” he finally admits. “But it’s fine. I’ll find something to snack on later.” 

“You should eat,” Zane comments. “I can make something—”

“That’s nice.” Lloyd rises to his feet, a scowl flitting across his features as he pushes Zane toward the door. “But I’m a grown-up. I can feed myself.” 

“But I—”

Lloyd gives Zane a proper shove out into the hallway. 

“I appreciate it, buddy, really, but you can’t help this time.” 

———

Zane doesn’t believe that. 

He plays many roles within the team—medic, builder, analyst. He was built to protect and repair. And while he can’t traditionally repair Lloyd’s struggles, he figures he may be able to lighten them. He can take some of the weight off of Lloyd’s shoulders. 

Because Lloyd works—he works and he trains and he fights. Mostly because he loves doing it. He loves protecting Ninjago with every ounce of his bleeding, golden heart, even if he never says it. 

Deep down, though, Zane suspects it’s also because Lloyd doesn’t know how to do anything else. 

Zane figures he’s approximately 25% responsible for that. Less, if he takes Nya and Master Wu into account. More, if he considers the many times he’s recklessly thrown himself into battle, almost died protecting those he cares about, and never opened those vulnerable parts of himself for others to repair. 

Terrible examples that Zane knows Lloyd has internalized. 

Though, FSM forbid he ever point that out—Lloyd would have a fit.  

That leaves Zane the only option of supporting Lloyd through less direct means, which he remembers how to do with his favorite pastime. 

Cooking tethers Zane to his sense of self. It goes beyond a set of calculations that his superhuman brain can produce in seconds. He considers it an art and one of the few things that call for his opinion and not cold, hard facts—it’s something he knows he can always use to comfort his family.  

For Lloyd, Zane brings out a recipe of deep nostalgia and laughter. 

A noodle soup with a rich, golden broth flavored by an assortment of spices, ginger, lime, and cilantro. Traditionally made with beef or chicken, Zane has since changed the recipe to favor shrimp instead, as Lloyd proved to have a taste for it as a child. 

A few hours later, Zane sweeps into Lloyd’s room and sets the piping hot bowl of soup down on his desk. Lloyd looks up and immediately scowls. 

“Zane, I told you to leave me alone,” Lloyd snaps. “Can’t you see I’m busy?” 

Zane doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he scans the contents of Lloyd’s desk.  

“You are working on customized training programs for your students?” Zane asks. 

“Yes.” 

“You teach them because you care about them?”

“ Yes, ” Lloyd hisses. 

“If teaching is your way of expressing love, then cooking is mine,” Zane asserts, “and you are not the only one who is allowed to express their love here.” 

Lloyd looks gobsmacked that Zane would dare speak to him that way. He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, spluttering for words that simply won’t come. Eventually, he scoffs, picks up a fork, and stabs at the food. 

Despite Lloyd’s agonizing display, Zane reckons that everything will turn out fine. He followed the recipe he wrote to the letter, the same as always. It’s never failed before; it shouldn’t now. 

Still, he finds himself watching with anticipation rushing to his head.

Lloyd shoves a forkful of noodles and shrimp into his mouth and chews—quickly first, then slowly, before he stops altogether. 

A shot of icy panic spears through Zane’s mind. Surely, he hadn’t made a mistake? Unless Lloyd had grown out of enjoying his food? Did Lloyd not like it—

A soft rumbling sound touches the air, familiar in every way. 

It takes Zane a moment to process what it is, but when he does, all of his doubt melts away. 

Purring. Lloyd is purring.

His pointed ears—from his supernatural heritage—flick once, ever so slightly. Then again, and again, until they flutter like the wings of a butterfly. Lloyd leans over the bowl, a content smile pulling at his lips as he swallows and dives for the next bite, slurping up noodles with reckless abandon. 

A cool sense of relief floods through Zane’s body at the sight. 

Ever since the Merge, Lloyd rarely seemed joyful. It was as though the years of loneliness had left him struggling to reconnect with even his closest friends and all the more desperate to assert his independence. Especially since his responsibilities had grown to include two—no, three, Zane recounts—kids and a busier monastery to maintain. 

To see Lloyd smile again soothed Zane more than words could explain. 

“Be sure to bring your bowl back to the kitchen once you’ve finished,” Zane says as he takes his leave. “I can serve up seconds for you too, if you wish.”

Lloyd suddenly spins around in his chair, eyes wide. 

“Uh, wait, Zane!”

Zane pauses in the doorway.

“Um… I know this might be a lot to ask…” Lloyd stumbles over his words, eyes darting away. “But… you know those spring rolls you make sometimes? The ones that have shrimp and pork and all that—” Lloyd makes a vague gesture with his hand. “ —green stuff you put in it. Could you…?”

“Of course,” Zane answers swiftly. “I’d be happy to make some for you.” 

Lloyd beams—soft and relaxed against the golden light of dusk pouring into the room. 

“Thanks, Zane,” Lloyd says. 

Zane merely smiles, happy to be of assistance. 

Anything at all to make his little brother smile again.

[peach-and-bugs]

Hi, I hope you are well, I fell in love with Nat's one-shot, so I was encouraged to ask for a request, well there are two that come to my head with different characters.

"Wow, you really never got out of your angsty teenage stage, did you?" with Teen Shauna (sorry it's just that you see those eyes and they bring back a lot of melancholy).

"Please tell me you didn't hold on to that all these years" with Lottie (1996) and Lottie (2021). I think with this one you can play with flashbacks of seeing what happened in the desert and their relationship in that timeline in 1996 as a reunion in 2021 somewhat angsty.

Sorry the request is so long, although I would like to add that I can imagine both requests with f reader, anyway thank you very much for everything, take your time and take care of yourself. ❤️

💚Flower stems for heartstrings - Lottie Matthews (1996 & 2021) x fem!Reader💚

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Summary: y/n finds evidence of her teenage best friend (and secret crush) being alive after all, and a possible way of finding her thanks to modern internet and goes on a personal quest to find her and the truth, all while reminiscing about their teen years...

Warnings: Internalized homophobia, fem reader that dresses both "masc" and "fem", underage drinking and smoking weed, extremely angst but with a good ending

Word Count: 8,758

A/N: woohoo! We've surpassed word count on my longest oneshot with this fic, the record previously being 6,990. And ngl, this might be one of my favorites to date! Lottie is an extra special gal who deserves an extra long one-shot, so of course I'm going to give her extra attention. What can I say, I'm not immune to favoritism. This one was actually so fun! I loved getting to write about excited, young (and medicated, let's be fr) Lottie bc I think we forget just how much the wilderness took a toll on her. She was so lively before, it makes me so sad. But, I hope I was able to give her a little bit of that liveliness back in this fic! I think in the request "desert" was supposed to be wilderness, but I wanted to have the reader be left behind, which adds a whole different kind of angst to the situation. As always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading!💚

Lottie Matthews Tag List:

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-💚-

You’d only ever felt the way you did now only twice before in your life. Once when word got around that flight 2525 had mysteriously gone down in flames with no trace, and once again when you learned she’s been shipped off to god knows where for some kind of treatment. You hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to her then and she was gone. 

It was a sickly green feeling that had you kneeling over with weak knees and a stone throat. Lottie Matthews, the girl you’d had your heart set on for all of these years, wasn’t gone. She wasn’t locked away or dead like gossip has always said. She was alive and well and looked like she was thriving. And how did you find this out? Through Instagram, of course. That might have been the worst part of all of this. 

One minute you’re mindlessly scrolling through your feed when an ad for a farmers market in some part of upstate New York, rather than New Jersey where you resided. But the ad featured a booth selling honey, and low and behold, there she was. Well, the photo didn’t give a clear picture of her face, but you refused to deny that it was her, despite how it made you sick. How could you forget that smile of hers after all? 

You had to put your phone away after that, but it didn’t help you sleep. A few hours into staring up at the ceiling, restless with gnawing curiosity, you decided sleep wouldn’t come till you found an answer. Rather spontaneously you packed a bag and got into your car. Was this the smartest thing to do? Hell no, but you had the weekend off for work anyways, and nothing stopped you from going, so you drove through the nightstand into the morning and drove by coffee, a podcast, and the straining urge that you needed to know what was going on.

-💚-

At some point in the night, you found your mind wandering as your eyes trained on the empty highway before you, highlighted by your headlights. You reminisce a time long before, even more than 25 years ago. Back when you had been a freshman in high school during your lunch period. You moved to Wiskayok, New Jersey late in the year, giving you an even later start to your first year of high school. You’d relatively been left alone and had decided you'd be alright with that. Not everyone can have friends right? So, alone you sat outside on the school's field, picking at the grass underfoot having already finished your lunch. 

Some students around you sat on the track or the stadium's bleachers with their friends, enjoying company and comradery or whatever and you didn’t like to admit how it made you jealous. But what was there for you to do to change it? You refused to look desperate and walk up to random groups of people who would probably talk about how lame you are behind your back-

“Hey, you alright?” the sudden voice in your direction yanked you out of your self-deprecating thoughts. Looking up you had to squint your eyes to try and make out who was talking to you as the sun shone in your eyes till they tilted their head, blocking it. After some adjustment from the sunspots in your eyes, you were greeted with a shy yet warm smile. 

“Um, yeah, I’m fine,” you uttered awkwardly, swallowing the frog in your throat that had your voice croaking. The girl chuckled and tottered down to the ground to sit beside you in the grass. She dressed well, was one of the first things you noticed. Her pink skirt and tall white socks were very countering to your grass-stained jeans, scuffed hightops, and t-shirt. 

“You sure, because you’re all by yourself,” she said rather matter of factly. 

“Well, maybe I like being alone. Think of that,” she arched her brow curiously. “And as far as I know you’re alone too,” she chuckled again with a little huff. 

“Tuche,” was all she replied, but she had a stupidly shiny grin on her face. Next, she reached out her hand to shake. “I’m Charlotte, by the way. But most people call me Lottie,” you hesitated for a standing moment, only staring at her hand as you kept yours loosely wrapped around your knees till you gave in, shaking her hand in greeting. 

“I’m y/n,” 

“Well y/n, tell me about yourself,” she spent the rest of that lunch period at your side, asking questions about you in exchange for the little tidbits you were willing to give her. It was so strange, looking back now, how a because girl decided you looked lonely you'd be driving to upstate New York on a random Thursday night due to your desperation to find her again. 

Lottie had always been charismatic. She liked people. She looked at them like puzzles made special for her to figure out. Maybe that was her way of avoiding herself, or maybe she just had a natural curiosity for those she didn’t understand. But from that day on, she hadn’t left you alone. She’d excitedly greet you in the halls, and invite you out with her friends and to late-night parties. She was the one who integrated you into the community and helped you find a place. 

But she also became your best friend. However, you struggled to feel like you were hers sometimes. She was so bright and colorful, full of life and boy was she popular. She always had someone with her, unless she found the time for you exclusively, which dwindled more and more as high school progressed. Of course, this is a concern you could talk to her about but you didn’t want to bother. In truth, you feared your feelings were driven by selfishness. You thought you'd never voice it, but oh, how you undoubtedly adored Lottie Matthews. 

You felt her encase you when she was close and her laugh was enough to have you swooning. You thrived in her presence and basked in the littlest bit of attention she may offer you. Her touch was electrifying and when she grabbed your hand when she greeted you you felt what had to be magic. But of course, you could never tell. Sure, you knew you were gay and you were so fortunate that you’re mother said it was ok, but you’d never tell, ever. Even if the ache felt like it was squeezing you, you couldn’t lose Lottie. You didn’t want to scare her away and be a freak. 

Part of you wonders if that’s why you'd lost Lottie after all. You hadn’t been honest with her. No, that wasn’t rational. A secret didn’t take down an airplane. 

-💚-

You didn’t arrive till mid-afternoon, late morning, the sun high above as you made your way towards this market. They had their location posted online, so with a quick search and an input to your mapping app you were all set to go. Moments like that reminded you of how on your road trips with your mother growing up she'd have you read the map in the passenger's seat beside her, your finger tailing over the highways towards the little star sticker added on to be your final destination. Strange how so little time felt like it had passed since then yet a whole life as well.

Venders had been set up for some time now and enjoying the comfortable air as they mingled and shopped. You hooked a tote bag over your shoulder to look less conspicuous (although there inherently isn’t anything conspicuous about a middle-aged queer woman at a farmers market, still. You felt a need to keep a low profile). You wandered for some time, looking for a stall that said something like sunset honey, or maybe it was sunnyside. Something involving both the sun and honey, and it looked like the people working wore a lot of purples. 

Honestly, it was a very nice market in itself. Had you had ulterior motives for attending you would have quite enjoyed it. That is still you grew distracted by a florist’s stand. The owner had lovely premade bouquets that ranged in a variety of colors and sizes, but what caught your eye where the assortment of white and pastel metal buckets housing small assortments of different flowers, meant to be starters for gardening. In particular stood out the small purple flowers known for growing naturally back home, in Wiskayok. You tentatively reached out to stroke the petals. 

You hadn’t formally been invited to the party, but it was one of those words get around kind of things, she no one was actually invited, right? At least, that's what you'd told yourself as you got ready in your room, obsessively messing with your hair in the mirror. It was one of those beer-guzzling bonfire things that the seniors hosted on the outskirts of the woods now and then. This time, however, the justification was the girl's soccer team going to nationals, and after the whole pep rally earlier in the day, it did sound justified. 

You pulled back from the mirror to look back down at your clothes. You'd layered a black plaid dress with thin straps over a white sweater that’s sleeves cut off just below your elbow with tights and docs. You tugged at your coller, attempting not to grimace. Sure, you liked dressing feminine now and then, but when it came to events like this you couldn’t help the anxiety, especially with drunk boys. But still, you wanted to look nice, even if the drinks being served were from a beer keg. It just felt like one of those nights, you figured. You sighed and forced yourself to leave as there was a car horn honking outside, grabbing your backpack along the way as you went. It’d be good to have a quick getaway available to you if need be. 

“Have fun, hun! Make good choices for me, ok?” your mom called to you from the couch, watching one of her late-night shows while sipping tea and crocheting something as you went downstairs. You smiled, walked up beside her at the end of the couch, and kissed her forehead. 

“I will, mama, I promise,” you forced a tiny smile. She hummed her thanks and smiled, opening her eyes to take a look at you.

“Show me this little number you assembled for me,” she said, taking off her eyeglasses and gesturing up and down with her crochet hook as she readjusted in her seat to get a better view. You stretched out an arm, the other firmly holding your backpack to your shoulder, and did a turn around for her. She smiled wide and gave you playful applause. 

“Cute! And do you like it? Everything fits well?” 

“Yes, Mom, I promise,” you sighed, trying to refrain from rolling your eyes. It was a new dress you hadn’t worn yet and you knew she was only doing the classic mom routine but you had to go!

“Alright, you go have fun. And tell your friend Charlotte good luck at nationals!” she called after you as you shut the door front door and locked it. You turned, illuminated by your porchlight, and waved to your ride. Van had the passenger window of Taisa’s car down and she waved back with a confident grin on her face. You could hear Depeche Mode playing on the radio as you approached the car. You opened the door and slid inside with a quick smile. 

“Thanks for the ride, Taissa,” you said, trying not to sound as shy as you felt. She smiled in the rearview mirror, checking her surroundings as she turned down the radio. 

“Yeah, no problem girl,” she said with effortless confidence. You didn’t know Taissa or Van, or much of the school's soccer team all that well, but in your mutual connection to Lottie over the past four years you’d tagged along with them quite often and they’d always been nice to you.

“We couldn’t say no after Lottie was so adamant we were nice,” Van joked quite loudly to Taissa, giving you an up and down with that grin again. You stared for a second, unsure of what she was trying to imply till Taissa smacked the goalie in the arm with the back of her hand, hissing her name to make her shut up as she started driving. The redhead let out an undignified yelp.

“She’s being an asshole. And confusing. Lottie wanted you to come and she knew we’d be the best people to pick you up is all,” you still had a confused look on your face, your shoulders hunched inward. 

“Um ok, thanks?” you said it more like a question. 

“What she means, is that we like you. And we’ll tell you we like you,” Van chimed in again. She wasn’t as helpful to you as she thought she was.

“Right, ok. Is there something else going on that I’m not cluing in on?” Tai and Van shared a knowing look. 

“Ok, so the other day Lot kept going on about how she worries that you don’t feel like we’re all friends, and doesn’t want you to feel like you’re just her other friend that tags along, ya know? So we figured we pick you up and tell you that, because some of the other girls on the team aren't the best at communicating, ya know?”

“Oh. So we're friends?” you sounded far more surprised and eager than you would have wanted to. “And Lottie told you all that? About me, I mean?” Van grinned once more, fully turning around in her seat. 

“Yeah, dude! I think you’re really cool actually!” you began to smile more than before and leaned back, straightening up your posture. 

“And, yes, Lot had all that to say and more,” Tai added on. You were thankful for the dark car hiding any color that might have rushed to your face. 

“She talks about you all the time,” Van blabbed on. Tai gave her a look that told the goalie to keep quiet now. Just as she did you pulled up to another house in the neighborhood that has Lottie sitting on the front porch. She shot up when she saw the car but took a last-minute look at the front door like she was waiting for something. Van maneuvered in her seat to hang out the window. “Hurry up slowpoke or we’ll be late to our party,” Lottie all but yelped and ran to the car after that, toward your side of the car. 

You didn’t have enough time to move out of the way and before you knew it Lottie had flung the door open with an exhilarated grin, laughing as she climbed in over your lap to collapse in the seat beside you in the back. She’d picked to wear all pink, which was just so fitting for her. You noticed in particular that she was wearing one of her shorter skirts that she giggled to you about hiding from her mother. 

“Shut the door and go!” she said through giggles, and once you had the time to process what was happening you did just that, closing the now-opened door to your right, and Taissa was off. Lottie lunged forward in her seat and punched Van in the shoulder, laughing all the while. “God, fuck you! I could have been caught because of that,” she griped as Van dramatically clutched her arm. 

“Ugh, what’s with beating on the goalie tonight? I gotta stay fit for nationals and I’ll be covered in bruises at this rate,” 

“Whatever. You’re always covered in bruises, and not all of them are from soccer,” Lottie implied, her hands gripping Taissa’s headrest in front of her so she could lean forward and talk to the two girls up front. That is till she scooted back to give you her full attention. 

“Well, you’re liking fine as hell tonight hot stuff! Have you been hiding this little number?” Lottie asked, reaching out to touch the material of the dress you were wearing along your leg. You managed to force a laugh and playfully swatter her hand away with shifty eye contact. 

“It’s new. My mom got it for me during our last mall trip. She wanted me to expand my wardrobe or whatever,” you played off causally. Lottie gave you a knowing smile and sighed as she turned to look out the window. 

“I think it looks great, just like you always do,” she murmured rather quietly. You weren't even sure you were supposed to hear her. Not long after Tai parked and you all got out of the car. Van yelled something at the crowd that had already gotten things started and there was a low collection of howling and yelling in response to her. Lottie got out of the car before you but stopped and waited by your door for you to get out with her. She said nothing but had that perky smile on the whole time as she watched you expectantly.

“So, whatcha wanna do?” you asked. She shrugged. 

“I dunno. Maybe get reeeeeally drunk,” she toyed, reaching out to take your hand like it had become second nature. Tai walked up to the two of you from the driver seat of the car, double-checking as she locked it shut and shoved her keys in her jacket pocket. She made a purposefully obvious glance down at your entwined fingers then back up to Lottie.

“Careful Lot, people might talk,” she said with what Lottie took as a comfortable coolness but it sent a shiver down your back that caused you to think about pulling away. 

“Pfft! I don't give a flying fuck! Let them talk!” she announced quite loudly, leaning forward with her free hand on her hip. She turned her gaze back to you and wiggled her brows as she grinned. “Come on. Get a drink with me,” she urged, tugging you away from Taissa. 

“Don’t listen to her. No one is looking, and if they are they don’t care. What’s wrong with holding hands anyway?” Lottie babbled on as she pulled you in line for a beer with her. She was still holding onto your hand quite tight as she jumped into rambling about something related to her French class. Maybe a recent test? You weren't exactly sure. Despite everything she’d said before, it felt like everyone was looking, but not because of you. Because of Lottie. She was the pretty, popular girl while you were just the weirdo she hung around. With that idea in your head, it was pretty hard to not be self-continuous. You were so in your head that you didn’t notice her shoving a beer in your hand. 

“Wha- oh, thanks,” you stuttered. You'd let go of her hand to get your drink, opting to use both hands to hold it. Lottie frowned as she was handed her drink ans thanked the guy passing them out. 

“Hey, you alright? Lost you for a sec,” she murmured. She’d become so gentle all of a sudden. Were you really that fragile? She forced a smile and nodded.

“Yeah, I'm great. Just haven't gotten into the party mood yet, I guess,” 

“Oh, ok. Do you wanna step away, clear your head a bit?” you shook your head no. 

“Nah, I'm good. I’m just gonna grab something from my bag in Tai’s car, ok?” Lottie tilted her head, almost like she was trying to look at you from a new angle. 

“I can go with you,” she offered. God, why did she have to be so attentive and sweet?

“I promise I’ll be fine-” you started only for a distraction to catch your eye. “Hey, Shauna and Jackie are over that way. I’ll meet up with you when I’m done,” you offered, dialing up that chipper tone as high as you could. She finally gave in and nodded, making her way over to her other friends while you crept away to dash toward Tai, wherever she was. You eventually found her after dodging around cars and trees listening to Van argue with a group of boys about something sports-related probably. That honestly wasn’t a huge concern of hers at the moment. 

“Hey, Taissa. can I borrow your keys?” Taissa arched a brow. 

“You’re not trying to use my car to go joyriding or to fuck, right?” 

“What? Oh my god- no. I just wanna get something from my bag. It’s in the car,” 

“Where's Lot?” why is that relevant right now?

“She’s with Jackie and Shauna,” you began messing with the loose hair falling in your face, averting your eyes from her. Tai gave you an up and down before tugging at Van’s jacket. 

“Van, go with y/n to my car, ok?” 

“I was just in the middle-” Van started till Tai arched a brow and she gave in. Tai dropped her keys in the redhead's hand and you were off to the car again. 

“Do you already wanna leave?” Van asked, walking backward in front of you. 

“No, I just want something from my bag,” Van slowed to walk in stride with her hands in her pockets, watching you as you watched everyone who passed. 

“Care to share?” you just looked at her and finally managed a laugh.

“I’ll share when we get there,” upon reaching the car and unlocking it, you grabbed your bag and made your way to a more secluded edge over the party where you’d be left alone, Van trailing close behind till you set your solo cup on the ground, sat down saddle style on an old, knocked-over log to rummage through your bag. You pulled out a baggy you’d been holding onto and a lighter.

“Damn, y/n, I didn’t think you the type,” the goalie said as she dropped down across from you. “Where’d ya get it?” she asked, taking the joint you pulled out to share. 

“My older brother. He lives with my dad while he’s going to school and I visited him over Christmas and he gave me a few that I use quite sparingly. 

“Divorced?” she asked, referring to your parents. You shrugged.

“Kinda, but not really? It’s weird. They still like each other and get along but they aren't exclusive by any means. Dad works in Cali while mom moved here to look after her mom who’s a few houses down from us,” you explained as you fidgeted with the lighter, fixated on the way the flame moved up and down, on and off. Van snatched it out of your hand during an “off” moment to light the joint now placed firmly between her teeth. 

You simply watched her process, lighting the joint and then taking in a long breath before holding and letting it go with a sigh as though she was relieved before passing it to you. She did the same, watching your breath in with your eyes shut only to exhale into the dark, finishing off with a small cough before passing it once again. You could see streetlights from the main road from here, you realized. 

“You’re into Lot, aren’t you?” her voice was low to not attract attention, but she was confident in what she had asked. You paused, staring out at the lights just a short walk away. Normally, an insinuation that you were gay would have you panicked. It could have been the weed, but maybe you'd relaxed and found some sliver of comfort in the redhead, your new companion.

“I think I do,” you whistled through your teeth at your admission. You turned to meet her eyes when she nudged your shoulder with the side of her hand, passing the joint off again. “Think I’m a lost cause?” Van snorted and shook her head.

“Oh, hell no. That girl’s crazy about you,” Van said with a sigh, leaning back on her hands where she was sitting on the log. “Now, I don’t know what type of way she feels. Sexual, romantic, or just friendship. But there's something there. Lot’s banked a lot on you,” you began to smile again, soft and mellow as you took another hit. After that one, you leaned down to take a chug of your beer. You offered to pass again, but Van had turned her attention back to the party, particularly to Taissa who looked like she was getting shit from Shauna. Even from over her, you could tell she was wasted given how she stumbled around. Van groaned and got up from where she was sitting.

“Keep it. I gotta deal with this,” she huffed as she left. You watched her go, eyes trailing after her to meet with Lottie’s, who was staring right at you, arm crossed over her chest and cup in hand. She seemed to hesitate between you and her arguing friends, but when the debate got particularly loud she turned with a furrowed brow. You watched her go and kept watching till Jackie derailed the entire situation, pulling all the girls away likely to yell at them. With that done, you sighed, leaning back to fully lie on the log, the joint between your lips and legs dangling over either side as you shut your eyes. 

“You hiding from me over here?” you opened your eyes. The joint was nearly out as it had just been sitting between your teeth for who knows how long by now. Lottie stood over you, arms still crossed as she held onto her nearly drained drink. you shook your head, sitting up as she sat down beside you on your left, much closer than Van had been. You readjusted, sitting properly with both legs over one side of the log, shoulders hunched. Lottie's arm brushed against yours when she moves. “You didn’t come back,” she simply steed with no malice or accusation in her voice. You shrugged. 

“I was getting overwhelmed I guess,” you murmured. “Didn’t feel like talking,” 

“You seemed chatty with Van” Again, she simply stated fact. You sighed and leaned down to take another drink. Lottie took the joint from your hand. You watched, then reached for the lighter to give it a second wind. She held it between her forefinger and thumb for you and once it ignited once more it found home between her lips. You watched, sipping your beer. She smoked far prettier than Van had.

“Van’s a good listener guess. Doesn’t talk too much,” Lottie snorted out a laugh at that. 

“I don't think anyone has ever said ‘Van Palmer doesn’t talk much’” you chuckled out a soft laugh to match hers. You looked away, out at the lights again. Lottie took another breath in, letting the joint sit between her fingers with her crossed arms. She watched the lights with you, though she might not understand the fixation you seemed to have on them. That is, till she paused, turning fully to watch you. She tilted her head again, unexpectedly brushing her fingers over your temple to guide loose hair obstructing her view out of the way and behind your ear. “Let me kiss you,” she murmured, almost as though she was pleading. You turned back to her. Her hand settled on your cheek, fingertips curiously brushing over the apple of your cheek.

“Don’t kid me,” you whispered, eyes glazing as you darted down to her parted lips. 

“Never,” she shook her head ever so slightly. It made her hair sway. You swallowed hard but shakily nodded. That was enough of a yes for her to move in. She immediately dropped the joint in her hand and the hand tracing your cheek found home on the back of your neck. Her now free hand rested behind your ear, stroking your hair as you latched onto her waist, using your left hand to hold you up on the log. 

She kissed like she knew exactly what she was doing. As though this had all been part of a longstanding plan. She’d envisioned this just as you had, and fuck was it perfect. Her lisp whereas urgent as your own and had it not been a public space you might have let her do anything she wanted to you right then and there. She scrunched her fist into your hair, unintentionally pulling ever so lightly on your scalp and eliciting a sudden moan from your throat which only egged her on further till she had to pull away with you chasing after her. 

You opened your eyes wide, lips still parted as you gasped for breath in and out. And then, of course, you got shy, anxious voices telling you she’d regret this immediately. You began to turn from her but the hand in your hair let go and moved to trace knuckles over your cheek and subsequently turn your eyes back to her. She shook her head, murmuring no over and over, soothing you like a child about to cry. And at that thought, the thought of crying alone, you felt the tears spike in your eyes. She watched your brow crinkle as your lip trembled and she pulled you into her chest, holding you as close as she could. 

The hand on your neck found your back as the hand on your cheek moved to cup the back of your head. You buried into your neck as you cried, and she rested her cheek against your scalp, murmuring over and over how it was all ok. She kissed your hair, rubbed your back, and rocked you from side to side as your hands vigorously clung to her sweater, fearing letting her go, because what if the magic would be over and gone when she was out of your hands? 

But reluctantly you needed to let her go, and eventually, that point came where you emerged from her embrace, the scent of her shampoo and perfume fading from you quickly as you met her puffed, teary gaze. She moved to hold your cheeks in her hands as her breath shook. You held your hands around hers, kissing her palm with a weak smile. Fortunately, that had her let go of a watery laugh. But neither of you spoke yet. You just sat in warm silence till you readjusted to be side by side once more, your head lulled to her shoulder with her cheek at your temple.

“Fuck, what do we even do after that?” you breathed, eyes training down to the long discarded joint and red solo cups with only sips left of beer in them, though yours has spilled at some point, soaking the ground under it. 

“I leave tomorrow,” she murmured back. You dressed your lips together before letting go of another sigh. 

“I know… we should have waited” she chuckled sleepily.

“I don’t think so,” you hummed your why. “I’ll be excited to get back here. Well, more excited than I already was to see you,” you chuckled, though your tongue dripped with wordless sarcasm. 

“Don’t forget about me,” 

“Oh, how could I ever after that?” she teased with another giggle. You smiled, nuzzling your nose into her shoulder. With the change in direction, you got an idea upon seeing a small purple flower growing just beside her shoe.

“I know how,” you started, reaching across her side to pick it, leaving a nice, long stem to tuck behind her ear and in her hair. You sat back to admire your work and smiled. “Purple suits you,” you decided, tucking some of the hair behind her ear for a better look at your work. She chuckled with a sniffle, her fingers gently wrapping around your palm, catching you to kiss your fingertips. 

“Mam, are you alright?” you were dragged out of your daydream like a shockwave and had to take several moments to ground yourself again, taking in a deep breath. You blinked repeatedly, shaking your head before forcing a smile. 

“Yes, I’m so sorry. I was remembering something I needed,” you said with a forced chuckle. The florist smiled, though he seemed a little unsure. You turned back to the flower, petal still gently settled between your fingers. “I’ll take this, while I’m here,” you said as you cleared your throat, gently picking up the small white bucket and giving it to the florist to ring up. 

“Ah, Ruellia caroliniensis. But it’s better known as Carolina Wild Petunia. A good choice. Pick it for any reason? I ask everybody that,” he asked, making meaningless small talk. Your eyes stayed focused on the waving petals of the plant as it was gently jostled around. 

“It just reminded me of someone I knew, I guess,” he smiled thoughtfully and nodded with a soft hum of acknowledgment before he asked you for cash or charge. You picked charge which resulted in you digging through your purse for your card. 

“Oh my god! y/n! A shrill voice called when you weren’t looking and just as you pulled out your debit card. You gave the florist you’re card before turning to look who it might be only to have the Misty Quigley herself approaching you with the wide smile and outstretched arms that you felt you had to reciprocate. She squeezed you quite tight and when she let go her hands remained at your side for a moment as she seemed to look at you in awe.

“Well, what the heck are you doing here?” she asked tilting her head with that smile still plastered across her lips till she gasped “Oh! Are you looking for Nat too?” you furrowed your brow and frowned. 

“What? No, I’m-”

“Uh, mam, you’re purchase?” the florist interrupted. You turned from Misty to grab your new belonging, which he had been so kind and bagged for you as well as outstretching your card back to you. 

“Yes, thank you so much! I truly appreciate it!” you said as chipperly as you could before ushering Misty out of the man’s stall and towards a clearing. “What, what are you talking about with Natalie?”

“She got kidnapped!” the blond exclaimed, adjusting her glasses. “She was taken from the motel she was staying in back home and we’re here to find her,” she blabbered on. 

“Hold on, when did Nat get out of rehab and who is we?”

“I dunno, a few weeks ago I think? So much had been going on and it's been hard to keep track and ‘we’ is me and Walter,” you were still confused about the situation and about to ask who Walter was when the man himself showed up. He’d be trailing behind Misty for some time, just casually in the background. He was so average you hadn’t even noticed him. The man waved and offered a smile. You tentatively returned the wave but still seemed confused. 

“I’m not here for Natalie. I didn’t hear about that at all. No, I’m looking for Lottie,” you said rather bluntly. Misty frowned and it was now her turn to be confused. 

“Lottie? But she’s been in Switzerland for years-” 

“Well I thought that too will I saw this,” you whispered, hissing through your teeth as you frantically pulled out your phone and the screenshot you’d taken of the farmers market Instagram post, zooming in on Lottie and shoving the device into her hands.

“No, that can’t be her,” 

“It is. I just- it’s not a great angle but I know it’s her,” you insisted. Misty began to scan the photo curiously, zooming back out when she let out a dramatic gasp and began excitedly smacking at your arm. 

“Purple people!” you yelled. “Purple people!” she repeated it to Walter this time, which summoned him to rush over and huddle around your phone.

“The purple people took Natalie!” she explained with far too much excitement for your liking. 

“Could they have taken Lottie,” Misty shrugged. 

“I dunno, maybe. But only one way to find out!” She shoved your phone back in your hand and began aggressively powerwalking away with Walter tight on her heels. You hesitated momentarily before shutting your phone off and shoving it into your purse, hustling after them. 

“Wait! Do you know where to go?”

“Yes! Of course! We found out from the other stalls,” she called back. “Get in your car and follow us!” she sounded far too excited for this whole ordeal, but what other options did you have to find Lottie? You ran back to your car, got in, and started with heavy breath ready to take the next step on this crazy adventure you found yourself on. 

-💚-

After quite a bit of driving, they pulled off into a bed and breakfast parking lot and parked. You parked beside them and got out with a frustrated expression. 

“We're not going tonight.” Misty rolled her eyes and she pulled her suitcase out of the trunk of what you assumed was Walter’s car. 

“Someone,” she was heavily implying someone to be Walter, especially with the annoyed, flat-mouthed looks he gave him “wanted to wait till morning because he thinks the cult will expect us at night,” you gave her a look that asked “really” and Misty threw up a hand, shaking her head as she grabbed onto her luggage. 

“I know! Trust me, I know, but captain’s orders,” she huffed as she followed Walter into the B&B. You paused, letting out an exasperated sigh before going to grab your duffle back and your plant. You hear Misty muttering about not using her real name as she and Walter get a room. 

“And it's just for one room, right?” the concierge asked. There was an irritatingly comedic back and forth of yes, and no, then both of them settled on no, two rooms would be fine. 

“And, um, you can put mine under the name Lady Mallowan,” Misty gave herself a name straight out of Clue or a shitty romance novel and you couldn’t help rolling your eyes. 

“Seventeen and eighteen. Up the stairs to the right,” then went back and forth with thank yous as they clumsily took their keys, then started deliberating about luggage when Walter offered to take the suitcase off of Misty’s hands. 

“Just one room under y/n l/n is fine, please,” you said simply. You saw Misty and her new boyfriend exchange an appalling look and you had to refrain from laughing. 

“Room nineteen,” 

“That’s great, thanks” You dropped your things upon entry, but gently placed your plant in its bed on the nightstand before collapsing on your bed with a long sigh. Of course, you'd need to get up and change, but for now, lying on your back in a bed that wasn’t yours was all you could feel like doing. That is till you got up from said bed and disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a small paper cup of water that you set on the nightstand as you sat on the edge of the bed. You tentatively opened the bag that held your plant and took it out, setting it on the stand to be out and in the fresh air. You gave it a light drink from the cup before you returned to the bathroom for a shower. 

-💚-

You were woken by Misty’s knock at you’re door bright and early at seven-thirty and back on the road by eight after grabbing complimentary breakfast to go. It was a rather long drive to wherever you were going, but you once again found ways to fill the time. That is till Walter took a screeching u-turn that almost caused a car crash on a winding, wet wooded road, but that was a conversation for later. You pulled up beside them and followed as they now stood excitedly outside a green gate that happened to have a matching bee on it. All you carried with you was your tote bag with your plant tucked away inside. Why you felt the need to bring it, you weren't sure, but it felt necessary. 

“The bee is where the purple people are!” Misty insistently explained.

“Ok, do we need to call them ‘the purple people” 

“Well, yes, but that's only till we get a better name for them. But anyway,” without another word of it, Misty ducked under the gate herself and began walking up the road. 

“Ok, we’re getting hit by a car if we do that-” you started but she shook her head. 

“It'll be fine. It looks decently short,”

“Well what about my car?” you urged. 

“Just lock it! Who’s pulling over in the rain to rob an unattended car out here?” you sighed with exasperation. 

“I dunno, maybe people from the cult we’re actively visiting,” you mumbled to yourself. 

“What was that!” 

“Nothing!” you huffed, following after Misty and now Walter, who had started moving shortly after her. She’d been right though. It was a rather short walk with no cars. You found yourself in what looked like a parking lot in the middle of the woods blocking off yet another road with an even larger fence in front of it. Misty and Walter were actively messing with an intercom system that seemed to have worked as they excitedly returned to your side. 

“Alright, so the man on the other end, I think his name was Jack or Jackson- anyway, he’s getting Natalie and she's coming to meet us here,”

“But what about Lottie?” Misty adjusted her glasses and folded her arms with a shrug. 

“I thought we could have Natalie confirm that, because we know she’s in there-”

“You don’t believe me,” you interrupted as she began trailing off.

“Well, we do not want to be making outlandish accusations to strangers, I mean-” she got easily distracted by the sound of someone walking down the pebbled path.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Nataline started with heavy irritation. 

“Oh, thank God you're safe,” Misty would have hugged her by now had the gate not been in her way.

“Safe? What are you talking about?” her attention turned to you and her eyes widened with further confusion “Hi, y/n,” she added tentatively. You awkwardly waved as she gave you a nod. 

“And who the fսck is this?” she gestured to Walter now. 

“Walter,” he simply introduced himself with a wave and a light chuckle before going on. “I've heard nothing but wonderful things about you” Natalie scrunched her nose, clearly not caring all that much about what impression Misty had given him of her upon first meeting. 

 “We're here to rescue you!” Misty eagerly interjected again. “I mean, you-you were kidnapped, right?”

“No. Uh, yes, technically I was, but it's no big deal, okay?” the notion that Natalie’s kidnapping wasnt that big of a deal was bewildering to Misty as seen on her face, but honestly you understood her reaction. 

“Lottie sent some people for me, but I'm not being held against my will,” she muttered, twisting her neck as she spoke. “Well, not anymore” It was now your turn to perk up. 

“I'm sorry, Lottie?”

“I told you she was here,” you hissed through your teeth at Misty, moving closer to the fencing. 

“Wait- as in Lottie? Lottie, who was committed to a mental institution in Switzerland? That Lottie?”

“Yes, Misty, that's the one,” Natalie turned to you once more “I'm assuming you had your theories or whatever?”

“Oh, I’m not here with them-” you paused. “Ok, originally I was coming here all on my own, but we ran into each other, and well,” from there you gave up.  

“Wait, Natalie, Natalie!” Misty derailed the conversation once again. “​​You're gonna have to elaborate, 

“Look, she runs a place here, and she's helping me reflect or whatever. So, you and your Hardy Boy can go home,” she looked Walter up and down again about Hardy Boy.

“But…”

“I'm doing a fսcking thing here, Misty. I don't need you getting in my way,” she’d lost patience with the blonde’s interruptions and persistence and in all honestly, you felt bad for her given how she shrank back at the raised tone. But she quickly toughened back up, turned on her heels, and marched back in the direction you'd come. 

“She seems nice,” Walter tried to lighten the mood. Natalie sighed with either exhaustion or irritation, watching them go before her eyes drifted to you, still standing in front of her. “You’re not done too?”

“Natalie, I need to see her,” she let out a scoffish chuckle and sighed through her nose. 

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” 

“I’m serious, Natalie,”

“Oh no, I can tell you are, don’t worry. Just- just give me a minute, alright. Let me ask my guy,” she began to turn but waited for you to nod before actually leaving. You stood still, turning to check your surroundings once more just to be as sure as possible. Natalie returned quite quickly with a man behind her. She shrugged, seeming surprised by the verdict herself as the gate’s electric lock began to unlatch letting you in. 

“Uh, my car is still parked with some of my things,” Natalie was already shaking her head. 

“We can have someone come and retrieve it all later,” Natalie’s companion started ad Natalie turned, already heading up the hill for a second time. 

“But you're not gonna need it!” she yelled behind her. Due to her eagerness to leave the scene, you were left walking beside the strange man who let you in. 

“So, I'm assuming you’re Jack or…” you drawled off but he chuckled, appreciating your intention. 

“Jeferson,” he cleared. 

“Right, ok. Nice to meet you,” you nodded, your hands clutching quite tight to the straps of your tote bag. “Look, I don’t mean to sound rude, but I’m only here to see Lottie not join your… well join whatever you're up to,” he laughed again and nodded. 

“Don’t worry. She knows you're here,” a shive rushed down your spine as you realized what was happening. “I’m instructed to take her to you, actually,” 

“Oh. wow, that’s just great. Yeah, great,” you whispered to yourself as you bit your lip, questioning if this was going to be a good idea after all. When you looked up again, taking a deep breath you were met with quite a beautiful scene before you. It was a nice, well-organized camp on a lake with cabins and what you assumed were social areas all around and throughout the woods. You paused for a moment to take it in and wonder, did Lottie make all of this? 

“Charlotte is waiting this way, Ms. l/n,” Jeferson interrupted your wonderings. 

“Mhm, I’m coming,” you had to manually tell your feet to move before you could follow him to the separate cabin that must be Lottie’s. He had already walked up the stairs by the time you approached the porch, taking a moment to appreciate its handiwork before trudging up the creaking wood. Jefferson opened the door but didn’t enter, only gesturing for you to go in. 

“Charlotte will be here as soon as she can step away,” he explained as you cautiously walked in. You nodded, turning around to give him your thanks but he was already shutting the door, leaving you to your own devices. For a moment you stood completely still, watching the wooden door anticipating her walking in at any second, but after a few seconds of stillness, your foot began bouncing with building anxiety squeezing at your chest. 

“Shit,” you hissed, turning to look around your surroundings and find something to help you calm down. You put your bag on the table, but take the time to take the plant out and set it beside your bag. You rubbed your sweating palms on your pants and began to wander around the single room you found yourself in. Her main space was split into a small lounge-ish office space with a kitchen on the other half. 

You assumed the bathroom and her bedroom were down in the back of the cabin and with a craning of your neck you could see in one of the rooms but you decided it best to leave that be. Wandering around the office space you ran your fingertips over the edge of her desk. You peaked over the edge, curiosity winning momentarily before you restrained yourself, instead turning to the art hung on her wall featuring deer and other wilderness things before resigning yourself to the couch facing her desk. 

You flopped down rather unceremoniously but couldn't help sitting stiff, hunched forward with your knee bouncing in anticipation. Your eyes trained on her desk again, which was mostly bare of anything decor-like other than the two small picture frames. You forced yourself to look away till your nerves kicked in again and you were back up and taking the large one into your hands. It featured a classic team photo of the soccer team back in high school, but earlier on during your sophomore year. 

You chuckled lightly scanning over the baby faces your old friends used to have. Having something familiar to look at was relaxing, you decided. Maybe not the most morally correct thing, but this was an exceptional situation. So, you moved on to the small one, thinking none of it till she got a look and your heart dropped again. Pressed pristinely against the glass was an all too familiar flower, nearly identical to the one you'd been carrying for the past day and a half. Only this one had far more wear to it, clearly showing its age. It had faded in color over time, taking on hues of parchment brown rather than the vibrant purples you’d been familiar with. You traced over the shapes of the petals, likely dry and dusty to the touch by now over its safety net of glass. That is till you heard the carbon door abruptly shut.

And oh, she was perfect. She was sickeningly, stunningly perfect but all you could do was freeze where you stood, grip tightening around the small wooden frame in your clasp out of fear you might drop it if you didn’t squeeze tight. And she stood just as stunned at you. Age had encompassed her face all this time, but it was still her face. The one you had ingrained in your mind, so much more detailed than any photograph. You felt your chin begin to quiver.  

“Please tell me you didn't hold on to that all these years" You had to force it out with your breath ad your brow bowed with the strain of keeping it together. And then she laughed. She laughed her laugh, now blossoming with the beautiful thing that is age, just as every other part of her was. She moved toward you as though she was floating. She took her caftan off so smoothly it was like the breeze itself removed it for her. And before anything else, she took the frame from your hands, fingertips brushing together only for a moment. She returned it to its place before shakily turning back to you, tears drizzling from her eyes as she smiled.

“How could I not,” she murmured with a laugh full of exasperated joy as though she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her hands hovered over your arms as though she feared touching you would break the illusion, but with the way your lip trembled and tears rolled from your eyes as you held back a strangled sob she couldn’t refrain herself. It all felt so new and old all at once and oh, how overwhelming she was, her hands cupped at your face, thumbs stroking at your tears as you let it all go, sopping into her. 

Just as she had years before she murmured sweet nothing promising that you were safe and you were here, but not only you. After so much time she needed the reassurance of reality just as much. She pulled you in, just as before and your nose found its rightful place in the curve of her neck as her cheek found your scalp. She held you up and close as your knees began to shake and you had to grip onto her shoulder blades for what felt like dear life. You needed to feel her to truly know that she was here, she was real and she was yours, as were you.

[soaps-mohawk]

Hello there again!

Wanted to drop in as I currently binge read CRCB again (melting. its so good, its been my fav fic since i've joined the fandom) Yours is the second fic I ever read, and has been my own lil version of comfort since.

And I don't think I actually ended up commenting on your Kyle-tober fics, (It's honestly something I forget, and I almost feel like I get annoying if I commented on every fic, I'd end up writing paragraphs audnfkm)

But I'll say it now if it helps, I ADORED THAT WHOLE MONTH! My favs were the hybrid ones... like oh my god that was ajnsdf I was burning up. And the mermaid one!??!?!?! I've never read anything like that, and like. You helped me unlock things I didn't even know existed. Best shit ever, I adore you and your work.

And when I saw you writing those smaller fics, oh my god I couldn't contain my excitement. I can't wait to read them, and I can't wait to finally get through CRCB again cause oh my goodddddddd its as good as i remember.

Don't mind my ramble, I had to send a lil appriciation to you, bc I appiciate you both as a person and writer! Your amazing, and thank you for the time and effort you spend with your writing. I hope you have a amazing day/night, rest of the week and year! Lots of love <3

Aww thank you, love!!! Don't feel bad, authors absolutely love getting mini novels in the comments on every fic. Trust me, you can never comment too much.

I'm such a sucker for a hybrid AU (actually have a whole fic idea for one lol) and!merman Gaz owns my soul. Could make that one an entire series (might actually). Glad I could help in the self discovery as well 🤭 that's one of my favorite things about Kinktober.

I thank you for the appreciation. It really means a lot to me 💚💚

[karliahs]

fic writer interview!!

tysm @plusultraetc for the tag!! <3

How many works do you have on AO3?

50 exactly!

What's your total AO3 word count?

234,906, almost half of which (110k) was written/posted this year. insane!!

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

darken your door (12,832)

walk a mile (5642)

swan dive (4857)

rescue (3905)

something else to pretend (3,572)

there's a theme here and it's bnha fics i wrote in 2019/2020

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

yes!! with several asterisks i'll get into in a minute. i try to respond to every comment i get because:

i genuinely really appreciate that anyone takes the time to tell me they liked a fic when they could just consume it and say nothing with 0 consequences, so i want to say thank you

some comments have a rly big impact on me - change the way i feel about stuff, contain phrases i remember for a really long time, make me cry, etc - and just like how if someone writes a fic that impacts me then i want to tell them, i want to tell people how much their comment mattered

i often only figure out why i did something or made certain choices in a fic until someone prompts me to talk about it. it's such a useful exercise for understanding my own work better

i genuinely adore rambling about my fics, it's arguably more fun than writing them in the first place

it's really nice getting to chat to commenters and get to know people!

however. there is a 3-4 year period where i didn't reply to any comments at all because i got overwhelmed and then felt like it was too late to try and catch up. this still haunts me a little bit because i got some really lovely impactful comments in that era but it just feels too weird to reply literally like 5 years late 😭

2nd asterisk is some fics i feel kind of embarrassed about and so don't reply to comments on, 3rd is that i'm bad at managing my comments inbox so i'm sure i miss people out by accident sometimes, and 4th is that if i don't have anything nice to say then i won't respond...i get almost no comments i think are intentionally meant to be rude, but sometimes i get ones that rankle for one reason or another and i won't reply if i'm just gonna be tetchy bc again, i don't think they're meant badly

so very much a yes in theory but not in practice 😂

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

bargaining chips i think. the funny thing about that series is that in some ways i think things would ultimately turn out better than in canon (there's a reason the 2nd fic has akechi promise to contact ren if he does survive, a thing that would have paid off in the 3rd fic i never finished). but as of bargaining chips it's very much...this is the POV of a person who thinks the only power they have left in the world is to hurt people

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

my usual ending is like bittersweet and/or hopeful, so for example i feel a lot of things about the cathertic (for me at least) endings for redux and something else to pretend and unwanted, but idk if they can exactly be called happy.

going to my pure silly fluff fics instead where we pretty much start happy and end happy: to work, to rest which ends with the gang being happy about stickers, or class pets which ends with class a getting three (3) cats

Do you write crossovers?

nope!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

not really! probably the closest was someone commenting on pathologised with just "WHERE IS YUSUKE?" in all caps 🙄 "why isn't my fave dude in your fic" is not a genre of comment i enjoy, though it's usually phrased more politely than that at least

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

nope!

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i'm aware of, though it's apparently fairly rampant in bnha fandom with those "what if deku [x]" youtube videos. i think those are reserved for fics with actual plots though

Have you ever had a fic translated?

i think i've been asked for permission for people to do so before, but i don't think i've ever actually seen anything posted...someone did translate a little section of one fic into spanish in a bookmarker comment once, which was very fun because i remember little bits of spanish from school & years of sporadic duolingo

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no but i think it would be so fun 👀

What's your all-time favorite ship?

mannnn i just cannot care about romantic ships the way that seems to be so ubiquitous in fandom. even when i try and write romance it ends up as like ambigious tenderness or Friendship With Vibes. the few times i've even written kissing it's been just a build up to a kiss after which the fic immediately fades to black, which is really funny in retrospect like...buddy, is that because you stop caring about what's happening once the kissing starts?

i am fond of erasermic, jontim and shindeku, though i enjoy them as platonic dynamics pretty much the same amount

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

it mostly doesn't bother me to have tons of unfinished WIPs, i don't really put that expectation that everything i start will or should get finished/posted.

so the only one that genuinely bugs me is the third fic in seen and not heard, because i feel like i kind of promised it to people and then didn't deliver, and because it would have properly concluded a series i know a few people really connected with...and because the draft got to like 80% done but i could just never finish it off in a way i was happy with. maybe someday though

there's also a more recent bnha fic draft that i am really fond of in some ways, but i just could not take the discourse i think it would inspire. i might finish it just for me someday

What are your writing strengths?

cribbing all these from comments honestly but i think i'm pretty good at real-feeling emotional responses to situations. emotional realism, maybe? and writing introspection/people thinking and feeling things in general.

my characterisation gets complimented a fair bit, which is funny bc i think i actually take a lot of liberties with canon characters, but i guess i'm decent at couching those liberties in a way that makes it pass muster most of the time. like passing off a counterfeit watch as genuine

i'm somewhat good with grounding things in sensory detail, but that's one of those things i think i'll always be trying to get better at

What are your writing weaknesses?

i've never met a plot in my life and i don't want to. i also can't write longfic. in real-world terms i'm a short story writer and not a novelist - all those structural narrative things people do to make a long-form story work are just mystifying to me. part of that is just driven by what interests me though - i don't read a lot of plotty longfic either

i'm also still working on improving syntax and flow in my prose in general, but that's another one of those endless projects i think

oh also having more than two people in a prolonged dialogue scene is wildly difficult to me

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

i have no thoughts on this matter!

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

merlin! i wrote probably bad merlin fic on ff.net back when i was like 15/16. it's actually the reason i joined tumblr in the first place, bc my fave merlin fic writer had a tumblr and i got curious

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

i'd like to write more about my silly little video game OCs. i've dabbled in it a bit before but i've never really invested in it because i know no one would read it/care. but i'm getting better at writing for myself and it is really fun to have records of these OCs that i love, so i hope i can write some stuff about the protag i make for new dragon age that i'll inevitably get deeply attached to

it's also kind of wild to me that i've never written for homestuck or dangan ronpa given the impact those two things had on my psyche

What's your favorite fic you've written?

my answer to this changes depending on the day but right now...something else to pretend my beloved

wow that got long. not tagging anyone but if you'd like to do it, consider yourself tagged!

[strawberry-skies-xx]

13, 20, & 22 for the fic asks! fic i choose for 22, of course, that fucked up girl <3 and the mori dazai fic w the matcha tea....both fics have me by. CHOKEHOLD

*walks in 2 days late w iced coffee* that reblog spree on your blog is bc i couldn't find the og post btw and i had the (naive) hope you didn't reblog shit at the speed i did

13. Do you prefer writing multi-chapter fics or single-part fics? Do you prefer reading multi-chapter fics or single-part fics?

i prefer reading AND writing multi-chapter fics, bc its so much fun to explore stuff. however. The Horrors. i can dream about writing a multi-chapter fic all i want but it doesnt mean ill ever finish it (rest in piece my fleabag fyozai fic that's infamous on my bsd server bc i never shut up about it. also the fyozai betrayal AU fic. pensive emoji.)

20. Which fic have you put the most work into? Which fic have you put the least work into?

you make miette search through 84 published works for this...

the fic i'd say i've done the most research on is this one (mafia Dazai training Akutagawa) but the fic i've put the most work into being really good and me liking it has to be this one. its not BSD, but its a character study of a guy from another fandom and his interest in death and passive suicidality. i spent 3 days postponing every single other obligation other than food and just sat in bed writing this. 4th day i did nothing but chores and then i didnt write anything else for a week lol

least work is hard bc i have a philosophy that i can do whatever i want forever so i Will just write something in an hour and post it with no research, all pure self-indulgence. but i'll use a fic i should have done research on: this one. i really should've planned that out better. idk if anyone still follows me for httyd or has read that fic of mine but i do plan on rewriting it someday

22. Have you used any symbolism in [insert fic]? What does it represent?

OH boy.

so. fucked-up girl fic actually doesn't Have much real symbolism, only a couple remarks on my headcanons for various things.

today he had to eat an apple whole because he could not pick up a knife-

this one is easy, referencing dazai's suicidality and the fact he is trying. just a slight reference to him actively changing/being unable to do something, and also his issues with food.

He starts targeting.

Dazai is very, very still.

Atsushi backtracks so fast that he stumbles over his words, forgetting entirely Dazai’s contradictory explanations,

little things about dazai's manipulation in everything. boy can't admit shit. he's very roundabout with admitting anything close to himself (why i hc fyodor is so good for him, because they can trade those vague references back and forth and understand each other) and a trait i assign to him is saying vulnerable things in as few words as possible. he doesn't explain stuff.

Dazai’s body aches, and he turns, walks over to his desk, sits down. His clothes constrict.

gender issues but also, as mentioned in my comment on your fic, i hc dazai just hates his body. he has to shower with the lights off sometimes, can get dressed without looking at himself once. he very much dislikes perceiving the fact he has a body.

The ADA thinks that they’re dating. Him and Yosano. 

not symbolism or a hc but this was the premise of the entire fic. the agency thinking dazai and yosano were dating when really dazai just had severe gender envy

“Zai.”

little hc! yosano specifically uses this nickname for dazai when affectionate. atsushi and kunikida don't use any actual nicknames derived from his name; chuuya uses this nickname sometimes; ranpo uses this nickname somewhere between chuuya and yosano bc ranpo is putting in the least effort to get his attention lol

The conclusion is obvious. Dazai should explain that’s not what he means, but he can’t get his mouth to work to speak honestly. 

this whole conversation was the biggest indicator of dazai being unable to elaborate/saying things in as few words as possible. he's not a pathological liar, i just think sometimes it is physically painful to have to elaborate vulnerable things verbally for him. e.g. "it's because you're a woman" and yosano having to debate the fact dazai could be going after her, dazai Knowing what kind of conclusion she'd jump to immediately As a woman, and yet he just cannot explain it further because it is vulnerability. HENCE why i like him and fyodor, because fyodor can make those kinds of connections as quick as dazai can.

"Women are really pretty~”

not a hc or symbolism but. Boy why do you talk about women so much and yet date none of them. almost actively make yourself undesirable to them. Sir. My guy. i know what you are

“There’s a word for it?”

special lil hc i have. the mafia is very open and accepting because they simply have bigger priorities than who's kissing who. mori simply does not give a shit if his agents are consorting or if his lead agent goes from a girl to a guy. he won't provide monetary support and unless it's physically disabling he won't make exceptions to rules, but if he's told that someone's pronouns have changed or whatever he'll go "cool" and change the name/pronouns in all of the system, start using them, and be done with it. his only concern is performance and as far as he cares, sex and gender are irrelevant. (on that note, harrassment isn't tolerated because why are you harrassing them for being gay when you can harrass them for the multiple enemies they didn't kill last mission. cmon now.)

this also comes with the caveat that the kids raised in the mafia aren't really educated on it. they're taught normal class subjects, e.g. math, english, etc. and they're taught mafia protocol, and they're allowed to get their own reading material, but the mafia puts in as much effort to teach them about queer people as they do to teach them about heterosexual people. (they do get sex ed tho, which is basic as ever, and which dazai is a whole menace during)

and dazai, obviously, would not really be that interested in either to read about. being brought in so young, i think he was never really taught bias against queer people, so when he had the revelation that he liked chuuya he was just kinda. oh ok. and when he has the feelings about his body that he doesn't like it, he has much bigger priorities (namely the quickest way to die) than figuring out whatever the hell that is.

so it ends up that dazai just kinda is queer and has no idea what it is. he knows he hates his body and he knows he likes chuuya, probably has some surface level knowledge of gay/bi/lesbian/etc. but otherwise no, he's never sought out specifically to figure out the terms for what he's feeling. he actually really hates perceiving himself in any way lol

He still looks like himself,

this little bit: he hates perceiving himself in any way, but he still wants to be him. he doesn't want to change his name or his reputation or whatever else, he doesn't want to be a different person. he just wants to be a dazai that he likes.

It would look wrong be inconvenient for him, and take so much effort. Just… so much. So much that he can’t handle. Managing himself is hard regularly - adding on this, whatever it is, would be biting off more than he could chew. 

there's a river called de nile-

dazai is denying the fact he thinks being a woman would look wrong because of his years of being in a masculine body like he is, hence the calluses mention. but he also is right, that he wouldn't be able to upkeep it. he has to be in a better spot/it has to be something very slow and gradual for him to be able to keep it up long enough to maintain a desirable appearance. he's sorta using it as an excuse to not do it but also he just doesn't want to put in that much effort into it.

now for the matcha fic!

Very big hc and symbolism for this fic: Dazai's ability.

it is an ability nullifier, and i stand by the idea that abilities have some kind of effect on their user and are somewhat sentient. Atsushi's tiger, for one, is not only a transformation but the shape of the ability inside him, and Kyouka's Demon Snow is a whole being as the ability itself.

so for Dazai, he described it once as an "anti-ability." which. what the hell. whump beams him.

i have the hc that Dazai's ability makes him cold because most ability users can feel their ability hummign beneath their skin. most abilities are warm, alive, and it's like a constant low electric current or adrenaline rushing through them, as omnipresent as a heartbeat or breath. just a fact of being alive is that feeling. so then: when Dazai nullifies other people's ability, they can Feel the absence of it, they can feel very empty and very cold. when Dazai is the host of that nullification ability, it's just that electric warmth reversed. an icy cold, all the time, because NLH is a black hole as opposed to a sun. (all my metaphors relate NLH more to an icy lake, but that's the dichotomy)

i don't ascribe Dazai's emptiness entirely to NLH, but i do think it contributes and that he has a complex about the relationship between his own issues with emotion, empathy, and the fact NLH lives inside him.

and that cold gets much worse whenever Dazai actually does nullify an ability depending on how strong it is/how much is being used at the time, therefore the remark about him making a science on how bad it'll affect him, and that scene about him being overwhelmed by nullifying Chuuya's ability; he miscalculated, and was caught off guard by NLH activating so strongly, esp given his injuries and physical weakness already in that moment

and another little HC: Dazai's hinted to have been in an even worse place before Mori and abilities are said to be activated from trauma. so i like to hc Dazai's ability as activating from the result of being tortured with abilities, from a deep desire to stop the torture, also in some kind of lab setting. and from there, Dazai escaped, and Mori got this very damaged child.

so then, through the matcha fic, Dazai latches onto it because the warmth of the tea chases away the cold of NLH.

another thread through this fic: Mori and Dazai's relationship. i think Mori was trying to keep Dazai alive as an asset to the mafia, and that he never... regretted? bringing him in as much as wished Dazai had never shown up at his doorstep in the first place, because Mori sees the value of his skills way too much to regret using them. but Mori also knows kids aren't supposed to do what Dazai is doing. and he also sees the emptiness in Dazai and all his general issues. so it's this very messy tangle of like. Mori can't care for him like a father because, yknow, mafia boss and Mori himself also has manipulation and control issues, but also he's much fonder of him than most others, even Chuuya. no one else would have been able to get away with all the shenanigans Dazai inflicts on him (that kid bullies mori so hard. it's very comical). Mori is simultaneously training him and raising him in a life-or-death environment for them both and it's so messy.

“I’ll make us all some hot tea!” Atsushi raises an eyebrow, skeptical. “Are you sure you won’t… burn the Agency down, Dazai?”

little note here: i think dazai curates an image of incompetency specifically because of his competency in the mafia. obviously everyone there knows he's actually competent, but he hides just how competent he is. partially to get up to his own shenanigans hiding his mafia connections and whatever else, but also partially because he doesn't want to be known as something like the demon prodigy again.

when it's serious, they know he can hold his own (prison arc) but otherwise. he is faking so much incompetency.

“I’ll make a deal - if you manage to make matcha tea as well as I do, I can get you your own expensive set for the holidays~”

ok listen. listen. the slap that dazai gave atsushi lives rent free in my mind because of the moment of hesitation just before it. everyone villainizes dazai for slapping atsushi while entirely ignoring the brief hesitation just before it.

dazai was both trained (as an agent) and raised (as a teenager) by mori. and oda was not a very good dad either. he doesn't have the best role model, for one. but he's also very self-aware when he's older and i think he can separate "father" mori and "mafia boss" mori in his actions. he knows when mori was trying to raise him and he knows when mori was trying to train him.

now. now guess what dazai is to atsushi. a trainer. and dazai is still taking the place of someone older and more experienced teaching atsushi not only combat skills but also life skills/growing-up skills. and we all saw how dazai got with akutagawa; that was an environment conducive to that kind of treatment, where that was being encouraged.

now the agency doesn't condone physical violence and dazai knows that. and he is very clearly trying to be a good person like oda asked him to. so, with that moment of hesitation, he clearly did not want to slap atsushi. but someone else's post words this better: he got complacent at the agency, forgot mori's ruthlessness, and with the threat against atsushi and release of Q he remembered he couldn't be so complacent and began to slip back into the old mafia thinking as a way to survive.

and with atsushi breaking down and not listening to him, the agency threatened by mori and Q, a threat that made even dazai flinch, i hc he got overwhelmed, knew there was one method that got guaranteed results, knew the agency didn't condone it, but was overwhelmed enough that he just. lashed out in a way he knew guaranteed would work, and would get atsushi to listen to him.

so . very long rant just to say that i think dazai is fighting, a bit, to balance his experience of being trained-and-raised, with him training-and-raising atsushi, but he knows the difference clearly between the two and so he'll cherrypick actions like the deal mori made with the matcha tea.

deep breath. it's been like an hour and a half. jfc. anyway there's your answers hsfdbhsdf i have many many thoughts on dazai

ty for asking!

[manicmermaidbaby]

Fic Writer Interview

Tagged by @lavellenchanted

tagging @intosnarkness @hsavinien

How many works do you have on ao3?

58. 18 of those posted since summer 2023. Also some of my works are fanvids, although most of my fanvids are just on my youtube.

What’s your total word count?

442,507! Almost half of that is one fic lol

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

How Not to Drown (Hellcheer)

(Don't Let Me Get) What You Want (Hellcheer)

Far Less Alone (Keyleth/Vax)

Butterflies (Jester introspective, Fjorester)

The Only One I Ever Saved (Hellcheer, Companion to How Not to Drown)

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

I used to not reply bc I thought it was considered rude on ao3! I don't know where I got this idea but I thought you were 'inflating your numbers' so I didn't do it. Now I DO reply which I think makes everyone much happier and I really enjoy interacting with my readers!

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

So. I'm a happy ending person. I write angst with happy endings. However I do have Missat. Which is based off speculation and clues that maybe having babies is hard for asgardians aka miscarriage fic so it's all about loss and there's no magical healing or anything it's just grief

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

That's gotta be Too Sweet. Hellcheer style Scoops Ahoy ad made me write the CUTEST date fic and torture Chrissy in the process and it's just pure spun sugar.

Do you write crossovers?

not unless we're counting crossing comic/mcu canon but I'm not opposed to it! Also my witch!chrissy fic idea borrows from Critical Role which is my next project that I'm planning to start in january....

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No! I did once get someone come right onto my tumblr post and go 'i don't think eddie would have [x] but otherwise i liked it a lot' and dear tumblrite you can keep that shit to yourself lol.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes. Too much arguably. There's far too much smut in WYW but i didn't know how to remove it and eh, no one complained.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of! Hopefully never.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of..

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have written in the same universe as a friend but not co written a singular fic. I however have RPed for years so like. basically? I mean there is sooooo much rp on my sif blog lol.

What's your all-time favourite ship?

based on my output it's Hellcheer. No one else has taken over my brain this way. I do however also have to say Thorsif. They are my eternal loves.

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

jokes on you I don't post WIPs. I do have a DND au in my docs that i really like the idea of but once i got into it i'm not sure if it's working. so probably that. I also worry about ever finishing my season 4 rewrite. that's a matter of picking it and writing it, but I plan to get a new job and ANY new job will mean less writing time.

What are your writing strengths?

dialogue, and I think I'm very good at writing convincing emotional arcs!

What are your writing weaknesses?

Descriptions *hides*

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

I think it depends heavily on purpose and canon. If you need your readers to understand the other language than you have to have a way of translation, which can be difficult if you're doing anything longer than a word or two that the fandom might already know by osmosis. I haven't had to deal with multiple languages in fics much, thankfully, so I don't know all the options.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Gundam Wing.

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

I have an unfinished Briarwoods backstory fic that in an ideal world i would finish and post

What's your favourite fic you've written?

This is hard because there's a lot of variation in my fic writing but I think it has to go to How Not to Drown which, while the pacing is a little funky, is pure teen drama in your veins and is a story that means a lot to me.

[dukeofdelirium]

Can I ask your top 10 fav fics ever (from any fandom, if you don't mind)?

Also, just curious, is there a story behind your name "dukeofdelirium "?

Oh lord. Fav fanfics? Idk if I could even come up with 10.

I don’t really read fanfic that much these days unfortunately, mostly bc I haven’t rlly had time with my current job. I do write fanfic on my AO3 though (but my updating is random bc I work a lot). You can find me on AO3 at dukeofdelirium

I have multiple ongoing fanfics, including a Death Note/lawlight one that I’m writing the 2nd chapter for when I have free time.

As for my all time fav fanfics? Ummmmmmm

1) Genius Is a Curse by Bloodshot Eyes both on ao3 and fanfiction.net.

This is a DN AU where Light never finds the DN. I will say it’s very heavy on mental illness and things like that, and ppl might find the content triggering so I would read with caution if this is the case for you. It’s a fanfic that I still think about to this day and that I’ve reread maybe 5 times in the last 14 yrs. Something about it rlly stuck with me and I still think about it all the time.

2) The Hinterland Doctrine aka Those Who Stand For Nothing Fall For Anything by Halfpromise both on ao3 and fanfiction.net

We all know where we were when this shit dropped lmfao. This is one of the most iconic death note/lawlight fanfics ever written and just so you’re aware, it’s almost 800,000 words. It has its own tv tropes article and everything 😂 I remember reading this fic in highschool and it had me fucked up in all sorts of ways. I’ve been thinking about rereading it bc I haven’t read it in years but I remember how much I loved it. It’s also an AU where Light is a politician, I’m not telling you anything else 🤫

3) motion picture soundtrack by lowlightt on ao3

this author…. This AUTHOR…. Nahhhhhh their writing makes me actually insane I’m serious. Me and my bestie kept sending their fics back and forth in our group chat and we were literally quoting the fics and going crazy until like 4am for multiple nights in a row 😂 see I’ll do it right now. IT’S VIOLENCE, THIS KISS! god that knocks the wind out of me 🤣

4) Drag You Down by chocomd on ao3

This is a Katara x Aang long fic where they break up and eventually get back together. I rlly love this author and I’ve read most of their works. I recommend all their stuff, especially Midnight Meditations and Without Water which are both one shots I believe? Don’t quote me on that tho

The only other fics coming to my mind are fanfics that my friends have written. Like I said, I don’t rlly read too much fanfic these days and when I do read them, I am very selective and picky about it. For a fic to hold my interest and actually be memorable, they rlly have to scratch a highly niche itch in my brain lol. I’ll link some of my besties fanfics if anyone wants to check them out :)

5) Golden Hour by FuelMyDelusions on ao3

This is a Jacob x Bella longfic and a Breaking Dawn rewrite (thank god cuz we all know it needs that) and I’m WAITING FOR BESTIE TO UPDATE 🙄 jk I can’t talk cuz I know she’s waiting for me to update my shit too 😔🤚🏻

6) Aurora - A New Dawn by poizonivory on ao3

This is another twilight Jacob x Bella longfic that is fixing the hot mess that Breaking Dawn aka Smeyer Hell created. I love this fic so much 👹 you’ll catch me in the comments acting weird

Anyway lol, I can’t think of any other fanfics at the moment. Feel free to shoot me other asks if you want, but yeah I don’t rlly read too many fics these days except for what my friends write and stuff that rlly catches my attention.

And to answer your last question, there isn’t any particular story or meaning behind my username. I’ve just had the username for years and so I use it for practically everything. My URL used to be different over a decade ago when I joined tumblr (I was a 100% death note blog at the time) but then I changed it to dukeofdelirium so I’ve kept this username for many years 😋✌🏻

[strawbrygashez]

Horrid Henry fic

Nails (PART 1)

This is my first time attempting to write a Horrid Henry fic.. so please be nice 🙏 especially bc I’m a little rusty with writing fics in general. Also I’m not creative with titles sorry 💀 but yeah just a fic about a trip to the nail salon :) and it’s slightly set more into modern times but that’s not a big part of the fic. Also I decided to just post this as Part 1 bc I dunno if anyone will even like this 💀

————————————————————————

“Henry.. what are you doing? Mum said to-”

“Yeah,Yeah. Quiet worm. I’m just looking. There’s no harm in that is there?” Henry replied, before turning his attention back to all the nail polish bottles displayed up on shelves. It had honestly surprised him seeing how many different colors and shades there were. Sure his mum had her own few nail polishes but never any ‘fun’ ones.

Neither of them had actually been to a nail salon before. Usually whenever their Mum would get her nails done for special occasions, she’d hire a babysitter if their dad wasn’t home. This time however, she was out of luck. She couldn’t get hold of anyone available so she had to bring her two boys along, while of course not forgetting to give Henry an earful about being on his best behavior in the car. It was all things he’s heard before so he mostly has tuned it out, along with the sound of his little brother going on about something he didn’t care about yet again.

Henry himself wasn’t exactly thrilled about going. Sitting around waiting at least two hours for their mum to get her nails done for the same old Christmas event like last year didn’t sound like the most exciting thing in the world. He’d much rather be at home adding more toys his Christmas list than this but at least he had a new place to scope out.

A certain bottle of nail polish had caught his eye once he focused back on the wall in front of him. It was a dark almost swampy green color that had big chunks of glitter mixed in. An odd combo but one that Henry found himself admiring. “Hey. This one isn’t half bad!” He said, picking the bottle up before turning back towards Peter to show him his discovery.

“Uhm. Yes Henry but mum said not to mess around. Especially not with things…” His wormy little brother replied, glancing over to where she sat. She hadn’t noticed Henry had gotten up from the couch yet, too busy chatting away with the nail tech.

“I’m not messing around. I’m looking. Like I said.” Henry retorted with a slight frown. Jeez, did he always have to be a goody two shoes? The worm was even sitting there with his hands clasped together in his lap like he was attending Sunday school.

“Well.. Those are glass so…” Peter mumbled before looking back to Henry.

“I know. I’m not stupid.” He huffed. He swore it was like his whole family were just always anticipating for him to mess something up, especially on purpose. For better or worse, like when most people said something negative about him, he just learned to deal with it though-all the comments about how he’s never going to be anything but horrid in every situation.

He supposed if that’s all anyone ever expects him to act though, why not go along with it? Well. Most of the time. Right now he really wasn’t planning anything. Not even opening up a bottle and painting a little streak somewhere just to see how it looked, even though the thought did cross his mind. Plus since Christmas was only a few weeks away, Santa was probably watching him more now than ever so he’d been playing it safe…mostly.

“I didn’t say that! I just-” Peter began.

“Ugh! I get it already.” Henry huffed as he put the bottle back where he’d found it. Turning back to face Peter he noticed that at some point, he had gotten their shared IPad out. “Oh yes! It’s my turn to play on that Peter! You played on it the whole car ride here!” Henry grinned as he ran up to his little brother. He yanked it out of his hands and yet again frowned once he saw Peter had some dumb baby game that taught people how to spell, opened. Closing the dumb app he wondered when will he ever get into real games like Five Nights at Freddys?

Peter gasped when it had been taken out of his hands, and pouted even more once Henry plopped down next to him and opened Minecraft. “Henry! Mum said I could have it for a few days since you kept it for almost a week!” He whined, watching as the menu screen of the game popped up.

Henry spat out a ‘tch’. “Yeah, but only for school work mostly. I had that dumb presentation to work on and our old computer has been acting up remember? I barely played anything!” Maybe that was a bit of a lie. He maybe had hidden under his covers for a night or two to play Among Us but Peter didn’t need to know that. Henries answer didn’t satisfy Peter like it usually doesn’t, but the crybaby would just have to deal with it. He needed to continue collecting more materials for his next project in the game.

What came next didn’t surpise Henry at all.

Peter climbed down off the ‘waiting room’ couch and frowned. “I’m going to tell! I was doing something important!” He whined. Henry didn’t give a reaction at all. All Peter saw was Henry now pressing on the screen, probably guiding his little character around. Without looking up Henry replied. “Was it? Were you trying to learn how to spell annoying? Because it’s spelled P-E-T-E-R”

That was it for the little blonde. He spun around and quickly made his way over to their mother, reminding himself not to bump into her or pull on her sleeve like he usually did. As he came up, she initially smiled and asked “Yes sweetie?” She clearly been too caught up in her chat to notice what had been going on.

“Mum! Henry called me a name and took the IPad even though it’s my turn!” The blonde ear-gratingly whined while throwing in a sad, innocent look. Their mum couldn’t help but to sigh and roll her eyes. Of course not because of Peter, but because of Henry. She looked up from Peter over to Henry who had his tongue sticking out in focus as he pressed around on the large screen.

“Don’t be horrid Henry. Give your brother the IPad back and just sit there and read one of those magazines on the table or something.”

Like usual, she sounded exasperated.

He looked up from whatever he was doing and scowled “What? Why?! I just now got on! He’s been hogging it all day! It’s not fair! I just-”

“N-O spells no Henry. Can’t you just listen for once? You’re embarrassing me.” She argued back, now basically glaring daggers at the boy. Henry had almost tried to argue back until he looked right at her. Though most times he could push past the mean glares his parents would give him, looking like he’s the most terrible person in the world, he just felt it get to him slightly more today. He paused for a little bit, mouth hanging open until he finally looked back down and closed his games before half heartedly holding the IPad out towards Peters direction.

“See? Not that hard is it?” Their mum added in as she watched her younger son make his way back over to the couch and once Peter had it back and sat down, she turned towards the nail tech. “I’m so sorry. You know how it is with boys, right?” She asked with an awkward grin. The lady doing her nails nodded, smiling. “Yep, my youngest one is quite the handful. I have to keep my eye on him at home and while we’re out!”

Their mum laughed a little before responding, “For me it’s my oldest! Hes pretty troublesome alright. Even at his age..I thought it would stop by now” Henry caught a glimpse of the mean side eye she gave him, since he’d been occasionally looking up at the two while crossing his arms.

Henry didn’t react though. For a couple reasons but the main one was just that he was lost in his head about how if he makes his mum anymore angry, mean old unfair Santa might not get him that new Killer Rat Boys CD he’d been wanting. So instead of trying to find words to defend himself, he little huffed and looked over his brothers shoulder at the little baby game he’d pulled up again.

“Thank you for giving it back Henry! I almost have enough points on here to get my character a new outfit!” Peter gleamed once he noticed Henry was watching. Henry didn’t feel like dignifying that with a real response so he just mumbled something about how the words he had to spell on the screen were too easy-even for Peter, but the blonde went on about how it’s good to practice anyways. He had a spelling bee coming up after Christmas break so he wanted to keep practicing until then because yes, he needed yet again another trophy. Well he didn’t say the last part out loud but Henry knew how much Peter loved ‘being the best’ and making their parents proud. So instead of telling him off, he just rolled his eyes and continued to watch him play for a bit longer.

-

Eventually, Henry had gotten too bored watching Peter play his baby game and listening to him trying to figure out what he was supposed to spell out loud. So, he even tried to read one of the magazines on the table his mum had told him to look at but it was incredibly boring and lame as well. He didn’t care about all these weird celebrities he barely knew and their break ups and drama so he didn’t pick up another one once he’d skimmed through all the pages. It would have been much more fun if he could had spread one of those nail polishes all over the peoples faces in there. Maybe give them mustaches and glasses too but he just settled with thinking about how he could get his hands on a nail polish after this and a dumb magazine so he could mess it up without eyes on him.

The planning and daydreaming was enough for a while as he lazily sunk back into the couch but even that got too boring as well.. and his mum seemed lost in conversation yet again since someone from work had called her. She had her phone between her shoulder and side of her face as the worker kept doing whatever it is with her nails. So since she was busy, Henry decided it wouldn’t hurt to bother his wormy little brother again.

He looked over his shoulder yet again. Peter looked like he was thinking real hard with this new ‘missing letter’ question that popped up. Henry didn’t even bother to read whatever the word could be before he pressed a random letter on the IPad. A big ‘X’ showed up on the screen along with a frowning face which made Henry chuckle.

“Henry!! I was close to figuring out what letter went there! Why did you do that?!” Peter whined, turning himself away from Henry, mostly just trying to hold the IPad out of Henry’s reach.

Henry continued to sarcastically smile as he shrugged. “I dunno. Sorry! I was just trying to help. I really thought I had it!”

Peter frowned at him, maybe believing him, maybe not. Either way he scooted away some and pressed the arrow on the screen to go to the next question. “I don’t need your help. I need to review this stuff. Not you!” Peter said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“Whatever. See if I try to help you ever again.” Henry replied but with no malice in his voice. He just continued to grin as he moved himself to sit up on his knees and scoot closer to Peter. Peter was about to say something until Henry pressed yet again another random letter, giggling as he saw Peter’s points going down.

Peter stared in shock for a minute before threatening to tell on him again, making Henry’s smile drop. “Oh, it’s not that important worm. It’s just some babies game.”

When Peter didn’t even reply and just moved onto the next question, Henry gave up and decided to dramatically groan and flop over to lay on the couch. Just how much longer do they have to be here? He’d almost rather be at school than this place. At least there, tons of interesting things happened around him and there was tons to get up to. Here he was only allowed to sit there and wait, with the knowledge burning in his mind that if he messes up too much, he might just end up on the naughty list.

So he dramatically laid there, arm shielding his eyes from the bright lights. He stayed like that for only a little bit until a voice close by jostled him out of his thoughts. Moving his arm up just a tad, squinting because of the blinding lights, he let out a “Huh?” Not being able to see who ever had said whatever it was.

He could only barely make out the vision of a lady bending down just slightly and smiling at him after he’d uncovered his eyes.

“Sorry. I said are you alright?” She repeated.

After blinking a couple times, Henry could see her clearly. It was one of the employees he’d seen working away when they first came in. Even though she didn’t seem angry and was smiling, Henry didn’t trust that she wasn’t about to fuss at it him for being sprawled out on the couch like he owned the place, and not wanting to deal with his mum going on about how he was a embarrassment, he quickly sat back up normally as the lady stood up straight again.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry.” He grumbled, going back to crossing his arms and looking down.

“Oh, no. You’re free to lay down if you’d like. I just was worried.” She replied genuinely, also giving a smile to Peter who grinned back.

“I’m fine. Just-”

“Bored?”

Henry was quick to nod. Finally someone gets it. Who wants to sit around and wait? Especially without some good music or games to pass the time.

The brunette women let out a chuckle. “Yeah, I get that. My kid doesn’t like waiting around here either. Sorry we don’t have anything interesting around.”

Peter finally closed out of his app and put the IPad on sleep mode. “It’s quite alright ma’am! We understand this isn’t an area to play-”

“Quiet worm. You just don’t care because you’re hogging the IPad.” Henry interrupted, glaring at him.

It looked like Peter was about to say something back, more than likely he was going to go on another whiny rant but before Peter could say anything, the employee quickly cut in, lifting up both hands like she was trying to stop them both from starting another argument. “Hey. Have either of you had your nails painted before? I don’t see any on either of you.” She asked with a grin.

The brothers looked down at their nails, like they could have somehow been actually wearing some and forgot. Henry was quick to look back up. “Uhm. No. Isn’t that for girls?” He asked. He swore if another adult mistook him for a girl, he might risk getting one less gift under the tree.

The lady shrugged before putting her hands back down to her sides. “I don’t think so. My son loves having his done. It’s just some paint on your nails. I don’t see anything wrong with it. I believe anyone can wear it.

While the concept made Henry think for a moment longer, Peter was quick to grin widely, in a sudden a wave of excitement. “Really?!” He asked in astonishment. “Really.” She replied, matching his grin. “And if you two would like, me and my coworker don’t have any more clients for the day and we’re gonna close up shop soon so-”

Peter shoved his IPad back into his dumb little baby bag before he slid off the couch and looked up at her. “We’d love to! I- mean I would like to. I don’t know about my brother.”

————————————————————————

(To Be continued.. MAYBE 🤔)

[chunkypossum]

Thank you for the tags guys (@jules-writes-stories @fieldofdaisiies @highlordofkrypton)

1. How many works do you have on AO3? More than I realized. 18.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 552,788 Azris week put me over 500k and I forgot to document!!

3. What fandoms do you write for? ACOTAR

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Kerosene 

So I Start to Say Goodbye ( I have started hyper fixating on the long fic this one inspired. It's .... so.... sad. Praying for a happy ending though)

Come Hel or High Lord ( I should really finish this one... ooops)

Mother Save Us From Your Twisted fate (send help... part two is struggling to get written)

By Solstice End (16,588 words)

5. Do you respond to comments? YES! I am here. to word vomit about the things I can't stop thinking about... I love to talk about them. TALK TO ME

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? sans keurig incident I think I have done a pretty good job of leaving everyone with something happy at the end. All eyes on Eris week though. It's not going to end well ... most angsty I guess would have to be Once Upon a Dream

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Probably Kerosene OR Mother Save Us From Your Twisted fate because of the pain you had to go through to get there.

8. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes but only where it makes sense in a story I am telling. Writing it is so embarrassing and I'm more into the emotional yearning of it all than how horny I can make something. I let other people fill that part of the fandom bc they are infinitely better at it than me.

9. Do you write crossovers? Come Hel or High Lord has the entire MAASiverse cast and I will NEVER do that again LOL.... It's so difficult to deal with all these personalities

10. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before? When I was in High School my BFF and I handwrote Roswell (1999 version bc I am OLD) fanfic together. I WISH I could find those notebooks.

12. What is your all-time favorite ship? Forever in my heart of hearts it will be Satosugu for the absolutely beautiful tragedy that they are. They are PAINFUL to even think about but I love them more than anything. Azris is a CLOSE second and they are how I am funneling all of my Satosugu angst and pain bc writing for Satosugu is too painful and I don't think I would be good at it.

13. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I refuse to consider a world where I don't finish all of them HOWEVER... this one is going to give me the most trouble. I have a very specific vision and it's HARDDDDDDD ... When Even Moonlight Burns 

14. What are your writing strengths? I'm hopeful that I paint the emotion of a scene as well as I feel I do sometimes

15. What are your writing weaknesses?  There are too many to list. I chase the dopamin and as a result... I am not craft focused. Vibes all the way

16. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I am not fluent enough in anything else to be able to pull it off. I do enjoy reading and writing it in small quips and phrases though.

17. First fandom you wrote for? Again... Roswell (1999) and oh Buffy I think... first one I am actually writing and posting for though is ACOTAR

18. Favorite fic you’ve written? I am just really proud ot have been able to finish the monster of a fic that was Kerosene and will always love it for being my first but I have a couple coming up that the concepts make my toes curl and I can't wait to get out of my head!!! LIVE MY BABIES LIIIIVE (ironic bc my boys won't always lol)

Pressuring y'all next: @born-to-riot @acourtofladydeath @thelovelymadone @brunetterebel010