#but I’ve realized now it may literally be years before I will have half the mind to think back on that time in my life and talk abt it

[eetherealgoddess]

ꨄThe Bulliesꨄ

Oneshot - Semi Dark Content - College Setting

❦Baji and Kazutora have always been assholes to you. Can Chifuyu help?❦

Matsuno Chifuyu, Baji Keisuke, and Hanemiya Kazutora x Female Reader

❣︎Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics. Might be slightly ooc. Honestly thought the Haitani brothers would’ve been a better fit for bullies but here we are❣︎

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, WATTPAD, & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable.

✩Characters are 18+ as always.

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

The Bullies

“Stop it!” You hiss before snatching your arm out of the omegan’s grip, causing you to lose your balance and fall. Your behind lands on the floor as you angrily glare up at the culprits. Bruises are layered all down your arms and legs from the impacts of their daily antics. The cold from the tiled flooring freezes the bare skin of your thighs and legs. Your bottoms were snatched off at the beginning of the torture session, leaving you in nothing but your panties. Your top has been torn in half, the fabric now fitting you as a vest.

Your eyes squint when the flash of the phone glows in the dark, empty auditorium. You curse under your breath when you realize another picture has been taken of you in a vulnerable position. More leverage to use against you.

“God, betas really are weak. Look at you.” The solid black haired omega eyes you with disgust, hands shoved in his pockets. The man with his hair pulled back in a bun brings a finger to his own blonde strand of hair and pulls it behind his ear before bending to your level.

“This must be embarrassing for you! Imagine being so useless. You can’t even fight back,” he beams with a wide, close - eyed smile, “…I guess you really can’t help it, can ya?” Kazutora’s arm reaches for you before you smack it away, causing him to chuckle.

You hear a buzz and watch as they both straighten their stances and eye their devices. They grin before turning their attention back to you.

“Alpha’s callin.’ We gotta go.” Baji says before turning on his heel, not giving you a second glance. Kazutora follows before stopping and turning back to you with amusement gleaming through his eyes.

“Good luck walking through campus like that.” He dangles your pants before tearing the fabric and tossing it to you. The door shuts behind them as you're left with tears at the corners of your eyes. You slowly pick yourself up before limping to grab your phone. You call a friend to help you out of this situation.

“Man, what happened to you?” Chifuyu, one of your close friends that you met on campus a year ago asked as he walked you to your dorm. A couple hours after you called, he brought you clothes and first aid. You were thankful, but very exhausted from the circumstances you’ve been dealt.

“Look Fuyu, I-I’ve kept it from you for a while now because I didn’t want to make anything weird, but I’m honestly sick of it.” You stopped walking down the path before he halted in his steps and turned to you with curiosity on his expression.

“Your omegas are major assholes. They’re the ones who do this to me all the time. They’ve physically assaulted me in numerous ways and harassed me. They even took pictures of me after tearing my clothes off and threatened to post them. It’s like they take pride in humiliating me just because I’m a beta.” Maybe they don’t like your friendship. You have no idea, but it started ever since you and Chifuyu became friends. The closer you two got the more ruthless they became.

You didn’t think it could be jealousy considering you’re not an omega and alphas usually prefer them over betas anyway. You’ve never been courted and they’ve been together for so long. Long before you and Chifuyu met. You have no clue what their problem is. You would’ve told him sooner if the slight jabs stayed light, or if they hadn't threatened to post all those naked pictures of you.

You become slightly nervous as you watch Chifuyu’s blank expression. You worry that you’ve done something wrong and may have ruined their relationship because of his reaction. That is, until he seems to come back to reality and gives you a slight smile.

“I’ll take care of it.”

The next day goes very smoothly. No forced interactions with the omega males, nor any harassment or anything else you experience each day from their torture. Unfortunately, you hadn’t seen much of Chifuyu either but evidently he must’ve meant what he said considering nobody bothered you today. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, causing you to grab the device and eye the notification that states, “come to my apartment.” Your eyebrow raises at the lack of context Chifuyu gives but you don’t really worry about it and head over.

When he lets you in, you couldn’t help but smell the strong pheromones in the air. As a beta, it doesn’t affect you the way it would an alpha, but that doesn’t mean you’re immune to the scent. Its strong cinnamon and earthy fumes remind you of burning incense. You follow Chifuyu through the living room to the hallway in confusion.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You asked as the smell became stronger. You wondered how Chifuyu didn’t go into a rut himself with how overwhelming the scents are.

“Relax, Y/n. You’ll see. It’s a surprise for ya.” He smirks back at you before reaching the wooden door. He grabs the knob and pushes the door in, gesturing for you to walk in first.

You gasp at the display of Chifuyu’s bedroom. Your face heats up at the view of Baji and Kazutora bent on all fours with their naked asses in the air. They wear ball gags in their mouths as well as thick plugs in their behinds. Their cocks are swollen, leaking slick on the comforter. At this angle, you couldn’t see their faces but could only imagine how red they were. Chifuyu gently pushes you in the room more before closing the door behind him and walking towards the omegas.

“After you told me about my mates acting up, I decided to have a little chat with them. I need to explain something to you…” He rests an arm over Baji’s lower back before bringing the opposite limb down for a swift and harsh slap against his ass cheek, causing a moan from the omega’s throat, “…a few heats ago, I guided them through it like I usually do. What I wasn’t expecting was a piece of your clothing embedded in their nest.” Your eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment.

No way.

Chifuyu makes his way over to Kazutora, giving a slight squeeze to his testicles which causes him to whimper against his ball gag. “Honestly, I was a little scared that you guys were having an affair since they wouldn’t stop asking about you so I made them give me their phones.” Your eyes continued to stay wide throughout the calm speech Chifuyu was making. You can’t believe how casual he’s acting. Alphas are known to be territorial creatures. You have even seen him knock some guys out for making perverted remarks about his partners. It’s insane he never confronted you about it.

“Chifuyu, I-!” You didn’t want him to think that you did anything wrong so you were going to explain what really happened, until he cut you off.

“Seeing some of those pictures of you made me realize that maybe I don’t mind the connection between you and my partners. Maybe I wouldn’t mind mating with you either.” He smiled. Your jaw hangs open at the statement.

“Holy fu-!” You're cut off again as he continues.

“Since I didn’t mind it. I was gonna give it time. Let it play out and deal with it head on when it’s time. I understood that you were probably too intimidated to tell me anything so I let it slide, but before I could court you…” Kazutora yelps once Chifuyu snatched the plug from his ass, slick oozing out as he looks down at the object in his hand.

“…I didn't know that the pictures were against your will. And worst of all, that they had been abusing you.”

“A-Alpha, please…” Although the ball gag muffled Kazutora’s speech, you could hear the begging clearly.

“Fuyu…I’m s-!” Before Baji could finish his muffled plea, the plug was also snatched from his ass as well as a harsh slap meeting his cheek.

“I didn’t say either of you could speak.” Chifuyu wears a stern expression on his face before commanding them to kneel on the floor, facing you.

You flinch before awkwardly facing down at the vulnerable omegas kneeling in front of your feet, the jingle of Kazutora’s earring sounding like a collar. You played with the hem of your shirt, not knowing what to do, especially with the intense eye contact they’re both giving you. You could tell they were in a forced heat by the sweat on their bodies and the dimness in their eyes. This is such an embarrassing situation for you, and yet you could see the excitement within their flushed faces.

“So on behalf of my omegas, I am sorry for their dishonorable behavior. They don’t know how to express themselves emotionally. They tried to do that shit with me and I fucked the shit out of both of them. It’s how we mated.” Chifuyu shrugged before walking to stand behind his kneeling partners. He placed his hands on his hips before giving you a wide smile.

When he unclips the ball gags from their heads, you eye them with shock as they place their hands on their laps. Both men apologize with Kazutora crying and Baji with an embarrassed, yet pouty expression on his face.

“It’s fine, I guess. Just don’t do that shit again.” You said, scratching the back of your head.

After that, you don’t really know how but before you could leave, you let Chifuyu talk you into getting your vagina eaten out by his partners as a way of a meaningful apology, and they lapped that shit up like it was their last meal. You honestly couldn’t believe it. You almost didn’t accept it until he made his claims. Next thing you know you had Chifuyu’s cock inside of your pussy from behind as you sat on his lap, his hands spreading your legs as your juices were still getting lapped up.

All in all you didn’t leave that room until you were bonded to the pack, the bites having been slightly painful and yet arousing. Honestly, you hadn’t even known you were fully mated to them, mentally checked out until Chifuyu caught your attention and told you to bite all of them back.

You didn’t really have a choice but to accept your fate. It wasn’t so bad, the abuse stopped though the omegas still teased you. Chifuyu makes a great alpha when it comes to relationships and there was definitely a lot more romance in this partnership than you expected, although you didn’t really expect to be in a relationship with any of them in the first place.

[waitimcomingtoo]

And I Wouldn’t Marry Me Either

Pairing: Tom Holland x singer!reader

Synopsis: you release some songs about Tom after a disagreement ends in a breakup

Masterlist

“Marry me.”

“Right now? But I just got comfortable.” Tom mumbled into his pillow with a sleepy smile.

“I’m serious.” You whispered through a laugh and shook his shoulder. Tom’s eyes slowly opened and he could see the blurry outline of you lying next to him in your bed.

“What?”

“I’m just thinking.” You began. “We’ve been together five years.”

“I’m aware.” Tom laughed and snuggled back into his pillow.

“So we should do it. We should get married.” You propped yourself up on your elbow to look at him.

“We are married. Everyone knows you’re my girl.” Tom said without opening his eyes and pulled you into his arms. He tried to go back to sleep but you still wanted to talk.

“I know.” You laughed. “But I want to make it official.”

“What, in Gods eyes and all that? I didn’t think you cared about that.” He laughed dismissively and rolled over. You sat up fully in the bed and looked down at him.

“It’s not about that. I want the flowers and the dress and the rings. Don’t you want that?” You asked and shook him a little to clue him in that you were trying to have a serious conversation. You watched Tom shrug and roll onto his back to look up at you.

“I don’t know. I always found weddings kinda dumb.”

“What? What do you mean dumb?” You forced a laugh and tried to hide the disappointment in your tone.

“I mean, like, they’re not even legally binding. It’s this whole big celebration that people spend their life savings on just to get drunk and slid rings on each other fingers. You still have to go to the courthouse to get married and even that’s just a piece of paper.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize you felt that way.” You laughed shortly and picked at your nail polish to look busy.

“I didn’t realize you felt a different way.” He said and rolled back onto his stomach. Tom closed his eyes to go back to sleep and you felt your heart sink in your chest. You got out of the bed and opened the curtains a little to distract yourself with the view. You touched the silky white curtains and smiled to yourself as you thought of all the pictures of white dresses you had saved on your Pinterest throughout the years.

“I’ve always dreamed of my wedding.” You said over your shoulder. “I think every little girl does at some point. Every rom com I grew up on ends with the perfect fairy tale wedding. I always wanted that. I wanted my happy ending.”

“But those are just movies. I bet half those couples wouldn’t last in real life.”

“But it’s sweet that they plan that special day together and then get to celebrate their love in front of all their family and friends.”

“Yeah, all that planning just so they can get divorced before the first year is up.” Tom snorted. “I think the whole idea of weddings are stupid. I mean, you spend all that time and money planning for a one day event that people will just attend for the free booze. Plus, women starve themselves for months and spend thousands of dollars on a dress they’ll wear once? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Wow. Tell me how you really feel, Tom.” You laughed shortly and folded your arms to glare at him. Tom sensed your tone and sat up in bed to pay better attention.

“I just think it’s all so ancient.” He shrugged. “I’m surprised you don’t agree. Weddings cannot exist without all the bullshit sexist traditions. I mean, the white dress to symbolize the brides supposed purity, the father of the bride literally “giving her away” to another man after being asked permission to get engaged in the first place, and then to top it off with her taking his last name because she’s now his property or something. It’s all so trivial and perverse.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that. Those traditions may be rooted in old fashioned thinking but I think it’s sweet to ask for my fathers permission. And yeah, I do want my dad holding my hand and walking me down the aisle. He’s not giving me away to be another man’s property, he’s standing by my side as I enter a new chapter of my life. Which is why I want my mama right there on my other side. Plus, lots of people hyphenate their last names nowadays. It doesn’t have to be this monstrous sexism fest you’re making it out to be.” You rolled your eyes and walked into the bathroom that was attached to your bedroom. Tom frowned when you shut the door. You usually left it open a crack when you did your morning skincare routine, but today, you were shutting him out. Tom got out of bed and walked into the bathroom to see you. You didn’t look up at him as you washed your face.

“Come on. Are you seriously mad because I dissed your rom coms?” Tom said as he put his hands on your hips and kissed your shoulder.

“I’m not mad about that.” You mumbled and brushed him off.

“Then what are you mad about, sour patch?” He teased and kissed your shoulder again.

“I’m mad because I’ve been getting my nails done weekly leading up to our five year anniversary just in case you proposed and you just told me that’s never even crossed your mind!” You exclaimed as hot tears of embarrassment brimmed your eyes. You stormed out of the bathroom and when Tom processed what you had said, he followed after you.

“I don’t believe in marriage, okay? I think it’s unnecessary. Why can’t we just live like this forever? What’s the difference?”

“The difference is pretty big. But I guess you don’t see it like that.” You shrugged and kept walking away from him.

“Can you honestly tell me what would be different between us if we signed a stupid piece of paper at the courthouse or didn’t?” Tom said as he put his hands on your shoulders to keep you in place for a second.

“The difference is I’d be your wife and not just the pathetic girlfriend who stayed even though you didn’t lock it down.” You raised your voice at him and pushed his hands off of you.

“So you only want to get married because you care what people think? How romantic.” Tom rolled his eyes at you.

“That’s not the only reason. I want to get married because it’s important to me. It’s a public commitment where we promise to love and protect each other forever. I want that.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t. I don’t need a ceremony to do that. I can promise you that right here.” Tom calmed down and took your hands.

“But that’s not special.” You sighed and withdrew your hands.

“If you don’t find that special then maybe you don’t love me as much as you think you do.” Tom said, immediately regretting it.

“What?” You whispered and looked into his eyes to see if he was serious.

“Look, darling, I’m sorry.” He said softly. “I just don’t see the point in marriage. I don’t need to prove I love you with a ring and wedding. I chose to love you every day. That’s enough for me.”

“What if it’s not enough for me?” You genuinely asked him as you wondered it for yourself.

“Then maybe you need to stop being so shallow and materialistic and ask yourself if you’re with me because you love me or because you want to play out some childhood fantasy that you saw in a stupid movie.” He shouted.

You both instantly got quiet. You were quiet for a very long time.

“I didn’t even mean that.”

“I don’t even care.” Your voice cracked as you grabbed your purse and slammed the front door behind you when you left.

“Is this one okay?” Harrison asked, pulling Tom out of his daydream. He replayed that fight over in his head about a dozen times a day. If his mind wasn’t occupied by something at all times, he’d perform an autopsy on that last conversation with you to try and understand what he should’ve done differently.

“What?” Tom asked without looking at his friend. He was too busy staring at the seat you always used to sit in at the kitchen counter.

“Can I use this one?” Harrison repeated and held up a muted purple mug as the tea kettle went off in the background. Tom tore his eyes away from your chair and when he saw the mug, all he could picture was your lipstick stain that used to stain it.

“That’s Y/n’s mug.” Tom said, descending a chill over the room. Harry and Sam’s attention was caught and they looked at Tom to see where this conversation was going.

“Oh. Sorry. I’ll put it back.” Harry said and quickly went to put it back in the cabinet.

“It’s fine. She’s not using it.” Tom shrugged. Everyone looked at each other as the awkwardness became palpable.

“How’s she’s doing?” Sam asked and sipped his tea to seem less interested than he really was.

“She’s good. Shes been recording some stuff at her New York studio. New music and whatnot.” Tom replied. He didn’t know this because you told him. He knew this because he’d been stalking your fanpages for every possible sighting of you.

“Have you guys talked lately?” Harry asked.

“Not really. Not since she left.” Tom admitted without looking up at his friends.

“You guys didn’t break up, did you?” Harrison asked, worsening the icy tension. Tom froze at the question for a minute and then shrugged. He didn’t really know what the answer was. In the weeks you’d been gone, you’d make small talk sometimes about work and the weather, but it never went beyond that. It was more to be polite. You kept in touch enough to know what the other was up to on a weekly basis, but you both knew you were dragging out something that had died. You wanted Tom to just say it was over already instead of pretending everything was normal, but he was never going to do that.

“I don’t know. We left things kinda up in the air.” Tom replied. The boys exchanged glances and Harrison nodded to let them know he was gonna take charge.

“Up in the air?” He questioned.

“Yep. Up in the air. Ambiguous. Vague. Open to interpretation. Call it what you want.” Tom shrugged again like it didn’t matter, but it did.

“Well what was the last thing you said to each other?” Harry wondered.

“She said she needed some space and was going to New York. And I said okay.” Tom recalled.

“What about before that?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t talk much in the days leading up to her leaving.” Tom replied and took a long sip of his tea.

“She didn’t speak to you?” Sam asked.

“She did.” Tom nodded. “Sometimes.”

“You didn’t speak to her?” Harrison asked, already knowing the answer.

“I didn’t have anything to say.” Tom shrugged. Nobody spoke a word, but all the boys were thinking the same thing. They knew how bad this was, and that it signaled the end of your relationship.

“What?” Tom asked when he noticed the shift in vibe.

“I’m just surprised.” Harrison shrugged. “You guys were never like this. I can’t even remember your last fight.”

“We didn’t fight. You can’t fight when you don’t speak.” Tom said with a sarcastic smile.

“You should call her.” Harry suggested. “It’s gonna be at least a week since she’s been there, right?”

“Four weeks.” Tom corrected without meeting anyone’s else.

“Mate, you gotta call her.” Harry said quietly and put his hand on Tom’s shoulder.

“I can’t.” Tom shook his head.

“Why not?”

“She can’t break up with me if I don’t talk to her. As long as we don’t have that conversation, we’ll still be together.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works, Buddy.” Harrison said apologetically. Tom sucked in a sharp breath and looked at his friend with tears brimming his bloodshot eyes.

“I don’t know what else to do.” He said with a crack in his voice.

“Oh shit.” Sam said suddenly, getting everyone’s attention.

“What?” Tom asked.

“She’s dropping a song tonight. She just announced it.” Sam said and showed Tom your Twitter. Tom took Sam’s phone to read your announcement better. Sure enough, you had posted a picture of you dramatically lying across a piano bench with your left hand covering half of your face. You had a ring on every finger except for your ring finger, a detail that wasn’t lost on Tom. He handed Sam’s phone back and look at the floor.

“You didn’t know about this?” Sam asked, and Tom shook his head. He’d gone from being the first person you played every song for to finding out on Twitter that you had a song coming out.

“What’s it called?” Harrison wondered. Sam looked down at his phone to read the title and gulped.

“Who cares?” Sam forced a laugh and put his phone away.

“What’s it called?” Tom asked again.

“You Don’t Know Me Anymore.” Sam mumbled. Tom shut his eyes and hung his head in shame. He hadn’t even heard the song yet but knew it was going to be bad news.

“When does that come out?” He asked Sam.

“Midnight. Tonight.”

Tom’s friends stayed with him all day until midnight rolled around. At 11:58, Tom placed his laptop on the kitchen table and opened YouTube. He knew you always released lyric videos when you dropped a new song and he needed to reach every single world you said. When midnight came, he refreshed his screen and clicked on your video. The background image was a picture of you looking in a mirror with messy hair. You had digitally added sparkly, purple tears to run down the still image of your face. You played a couple notes on the piano before the lyrics appeared beside your face in your handwriting.

“I wish you’d just put me out of my misery

You already know I’m at your mercy

I don’t know why you’re dragging this out

You have all the power, if that’s what this is about

I’m not gonna be the one who walks away

So I need you to say what you want to say

I already know it’s over so just let it end

Please don’t give me the pity of asking to stay friends.”

“I don’t think we should be listening to this.” Sam said as he paused the video.

“Play it.” Tom demanded. Sam sighed and pressed play while the other exchanged looks.

“I’ve been feeling you leaving

I hate this part more than the ending

The moments leading up when I know your heart has changed

I don’t know why we keep pretending

If it’s done just say it’s done

Don’t just change your mind and not tell me

I already know so just let me go

Don’t just watch as I sit and bleed.”

“I don’t think-“ Sam began as he paused it again.

“Stop pausing it.” Tom cut him off. “Play it. I need to hear it.”

Sam pressed play again and Tom pulled the laptop over to himself so he could control it.

“Cause I cut my hand on that first crack in the glass

I feel the icy air between us when you pass me

So I took your chain off from around my neck

I’ll think of something else your initial can stand for

You don’t deserve to see me wearing it anyway

You don’t know me anymore.”

Tom didn’t realize he had started to cry until his tears his his keyboard. He couldn’t see the video anymore from his blurry his eyes had gotten. He wiped his face and leaned on his hands to give the song better attention.

“You know I would die for you in secret

Like that song I showed you in my car

I don’t think you even listened to it

You didn’t draw stars around my scars

You drew your arrow and let it fly

Right into my heart and let me die

Actually, I wish that was the curtesy you provided

Instead, you let this love become one sided

And now we’re shattered like a glass that was dropped

You broke my heart until the day that it stopped

You never got down on knee

Even when I crumbled onto both of mine

I wonder if you ever really wanted me

How did you think we were fine?

And at what part did you realize you liked the idea of me?

But who I actually am isn’t someone you wanted

I miss who I was before we met

Now I can’t go back, I’m haunted

And you were right not to marry me

If I could walk away from me too, I would

You were right to leave when you did

I know I would too if I could

But I’m stuck here with myself

Forever scratching and clawing at your door

Keep it all, even my memories

You’re lucky you don’t know me anymore.”

Everyone sat in silence once the song ended. Tom wiped his eyes again but tears just kept falling down his face.

“That probably wasn’t even about you.” Harrison said after a long beat of silence. Tom gave him a look before turning to his brothers.

“What do you think?” He asked Harry.

“It sounds like she’s hurting too.” Harry shrugged. “I think you’re both waiting for the other to say you’re broken up.”

“Well I’m not saying it.” Tom stated. “She has to.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Sam asked kindly.

“Then we don’t break up.”

“Again, I’m not really sure that’s how it works.”

“Well it’s what I’m going with. Because I can’t break up with her.” Tom sniffled and shut the laptop.

“But you can’t go on like this either.” Sam pointed out.

“She’ll come home when she’s ready.” Tom said, but no one in the room believed him.

And didn’t come home for a while.

After another week of silence, Tom flew to New York to see you. He got to your apartment and knocked on your door without any particular plan in mind. You opened it with a smile but when you saw who it was, you tensed up.

“Hi.” He said with a sad smile.

“If you came to to propose to me as some kind of grand gesture-“

“Please, let me talk.” He cut you off. You sighed and nodded as you leaned against your doorway.

“We have different opinions. But I don’t love or respect anyone more than you. So I am willing to hear your side, which is not something I did last time we spoke about this. I was just listening for what I could rebuttal against. I wasn’t actually listening to understand your thoughts and feelings. But I’m ready now.” He said. You nodded again and seemed to drop the wall that you had put up.

“It matters to me that we get married.” You told him. “I know you think it’s pointless and doesn’t change anything, but it changes things for me. If you picked out a ring, asked my parents permission, and got down on one knee, that would all make me feel special and loved. Those things matter to me in a relationship.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”

“But now you do know so if you propose, I know you’re just gonna do it to appease me. I’ll always know that you think it’s stupid when I look at the ring.”

“I admit that it found it a little dumb in the past. But it matters to you. And nothing that matters to you can be stupid.”

“I can’t get married to you knowing you don’t really want it. It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to me.” You said and went to close the door.

“But I can’t lose you. My thoughts on marriage literally do not matter to me in the slightest. If it’s important to you and if it is what it takes to make you feel special and loved, then I want it too.” Tom pleaded as he pushed your door back open.

“But you don’t want it. You just don’t want to break up.”

“I can put on a tux for a night and suffer through if it means that much to you.” He said with a slight laugh to lighten the mood. Your face changed and he had somehow made the situation worse.

“Suffer?” You asked quietly with a told of your head.

“I’m sorry. That was a poor choice of words. But darling, I’m saying we can get married. I’ll do whatever it is you want. Why do you still look so upset?”

“Because you don’t get it.” You shook your head. “And I’m afraid you never will.”

“What don’t I get? I don’t understand. I’m telling you I’ll give you what you want.”

“But you don’t want it too. That’s what I’m trying to say. It’s the principle, Tom. Remember how disappointed I was that one time when I said I wanted ice cream so we went to the shop but you didn’t get anything? I didn’t mean I wanted ice cream. I meant I wanted us to get ice cream together so we could eat it and spend time together. This is like that but times a million. You can’t compromise on marriage. You either believe in it or you don’t. So even if we did get married, it wouldn’t mean to you what it means to me. I would always think back to that conversation we had and remember how you really feel about marriage. I keep replaying all the things you said that day in my head. We both know how you feel about marriage and we both know it’s not something you want.”

“So that one conversation ruined it for you? Completely?” He asked.

“Yes, it did.” You answered truthfully. You stared at each other for a minute as both your eyes welled with tears. You both knew you’d reached a stalemate and there was nothing more to be done.

“So what do we do now?” Tom asked without looking at you.

“I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone.” You told him, making him perk up.

“So do I.” He smiled as tears rolled down his face.

“But what if that’s not enough?” You asked him. Tom froze and felt the situation escaping from him fast.

“We’ve been together almost 5 years, darling. That’s five birthdays, Christmas’s, anniversaries. You make up so much of my life. We’re exactly right for each other. It’s supposed to be you and me in the end. I can’t do this with anyone else.”

“And I can’t do this with you.” You laughed sadly and gestured to him. Tom’s heart dropped in his chest when it became apparent that this was more than just a fight.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“I think I am.” You nodded. Neither of you could believe the words that were coming out of your mouth but it was too late to take them back.

“Does marriage really mean that much to you that you’d rather break up instead of just living a long, happy life together?” Tom asked you.

“I guess it does.” You realized. He stood there in shock as you put a hand on his shoulder and brought him closer to kiss his cheek.

“Goodbye, Tom.” You smiled sadly at him and shut your door.

Another month went by and you did not come home. You busied yourself with your music and dove into your next album, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about him on midnights when you were left alone with your thoughts. Tom thought about you a lot more often, like every time he saw your face on his TV. He tuned in one night to watch you debut your latest music video of your newest song. His eyes were glued to the TV as the video opened with your back to some brown eyed actor.

“You say “I don’t understand” and “I say I know you don’t.” We thought a cure would come through in time, now I fear it won’t.” You sang with your eyes glued to the floor. The setting changed and you were walking through an apartment that Tom recognized.

“She filmed this on Cornelia Street?” Tom whispered to himself and sat back on his couch.

“Remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light.” A smiling version of you sang as she walked though the apartment holding the hand of the actor playing Tom. The setting changed again and you were still in the room, but the lights were off and you were sitting alone in the floor.

“Now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time.” You sang while not looking in the camera. The rest of the video followed in suit. You flashed between happy, golden hued memories with the actor to grey toned solo shots of you sitting alone at your piano or on the floor. The difference in the moods made Tom reminisce on the old times and he wondered how long it has been since he had made you smile the way you were doing in the video.

“Stop, you’re losing me. Stop, stop, stop. You’re losing me.” You sang while looking directly into the camera as a purple heart monitor line ran through the background behind you and eventually flatlined. Tom felt like you were staring right into his soul and realized this was the closest he’d gotten to making eye contact with you in a while. He watched the sad, grey version of yourself split from the happy version and suddenly, there were two of you on the screen while the actor playing Tom ignored them both.

“How long can we be a sad song till we were too far gone to bring back to life?” The both of you sang while Tom’s counterpart read the newspaper and didn’t look at either. He thought of the days leading up to you leaving for New York where he’d be doing exactly that, reading the newspaper to pretend to look busy when he felt you glaring at him. He wiped his face and watched as the scene changed to the three of you at a party. The sad version of you was clinging to Tom’s counterpart defensively while the other version of you yelled at him with a drink in your hand.

“Fighting in only your army. Front lines, don’t you ignore me. I’m the best thing as this party.” You yelled and drunkenly stumbled around while the rest of the party watched.

“You’re losing me.” The grey version whispered into Tom’s ear. He assumed that version represented the part of you that missed him while the other version represented the you that knew it was over. The scene changed again and this time, you were back in the Cornelia Street apartment with an open ring box in the center of the table. There was no ring inside, just a burning flame.

“And I wouldn’t marry me either. A pathological people pleaser.Who only wanted you to see her.” You said into the camera while Tom’s character threw things into a bag behind you and went to leave.

“And I’m fading thinking do something babe! Say something! Lose something, babe. Risk something. You’re losing me! Chose something, babe. I got nothing to believe unless you’re choosing me.” The grey version of you desperately said to Tom’s counterpart as she pulled on his arm to beg him to stay. It was like he couldn’t see her at all and just kept walking towards the door. The golden version of yourself opened the door and pointed for him to get out while the other version of you jumped in front of him and dropped to her knees to get him to stay. Tom’s character walked right through her and she faded to dust, leaving just the one version of yourself to watch him go. The music stopped and you ended up running after him, but he was already gone. You turned and ran down Cornelia Street but didn’t go back into your apartment. You just kept running down the street and turned the block so that the camera couldn’t see you anymore. The camera panned out to show the Cornelia Street sign and a violin version of your song by the same name played in the background as the street sign turned grey and faded into dust. The screen turned black and Tom was left alone in the silence.

After another month, he found himself outside your door again. He knocked on it and felt his heart pound until you opened it up.

“Tom? What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for you. I came to fix this.” He said simply.

“Tom, I don’t know that we can fix this.” You said apologetically. It felt amazing to see him, but it didn’t change the fact that you ultimately wanted different things in life.

“You were right. You can’t compromise on marriage. And you either believe in it or you don’t.” He began before getting down on one knee.

“Tom?” You asked skeptically as your eyes went wide. He pulled a ring box out of his pocket and opened it up for you.

“It’s your moms ring. Your dad gave it to her for the third Valentine’s Day they celebrated together in college. She doesn’t wear it anymore because it’s one size too small, so she gave it to me when I asked them for permission to marry you.”

“You asked them?” You smiled in surprise that he had done one of the things you said mattered to you.

“I did. It was a little awkward to find out your mother already knew all about our previous conversations about marriage so you can probably guess how confused I was.” He said with an embarrassed laugh.

“What did my dad say?”

“He said as long as I make you happy, he’s proud to have me join the family.”

“See? No one’s giving me away to anyone. We’re just creating a bigger family for the two of us.”

“I see that now. I see a lot of the points you made. And what your dad said got me thinking.”

“About?”

“All I want is to make you happy. Which is different from agreeing to things I don’t want to do to appease you. I do want to watch you walk down the aisle in a dress that’s been in your Pinterest board since you were 13. I do want to plan the seating arrangement and introduce my weird friends from college to your weird friends from college. I want to plan the entire thing because that’s something we can do together, and those are my favorite things to do.”

“What about the ceremony? And the marriage license? You don’t want those things.”

“I didn’t at first.” He admitted. “But after actually thinking about it and reevaluating the opinion I formed before I ever even had a serious relationship, I realized I feel differently. You make me feel differently. I would proudly sign my name next to yours on a marriage license. Because I happen to think our names look pretty good together. And as for the ceremony, I know we can’t compromise, but we can collaborate. It doesn’t have to be a huge blowout party. It can be the best elements of the both of us. And we can plan it together.”

“That all sounds very lovely, but it doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t believe in marriage just a few months ago. Am I really supposed to believe you’ve truly changed your mind? What if this is just some grand gesture to win me back that you end up regretting?” You asked him.

“I will never end up regretting promising my love for you in front of our family and friends. I’ll never regret hyphenating our names so that everyone knows I’m a part of a duo. I’ll never regret choosing to legally attach myself to my vets friend and spend the rest of my life with her. But I can tell you with the utmost assurance that I would regret letting you walk away and become a name I wince at for the rest of my life.”

“You felt differently not too long ago.” You quietly reminded him. You wanted so badly to believe him, but you couldn’t fully trust it.

“I changed my mind. I realized somethings are more important than other things. And that you’re more important than anything.”

Your skeptical expression turned into a coy smile as you slid your hand into the one that wasn’t holding the open ring box.

“You never actually said the words.” You told him, making Tom break into a relieved smile.

“Darling, would you make me the happiest man-“

“Eh. Try again. Too cliche.” You cut him off. Tom smiled and shook his head, knowing you weren’t gonna make it easy.

“My love, I don’t want to spend another minute as just your boyfriend.” He tried again.

“Lame. Thumbs down.” You shook your head and pointed your thumb down.

“Would you do me the honor-“

“Yawn.” You interrupted.

“Will you just marry me, you annoying brat?” Tom groaned.

“Tom! I thought you’d never ask!” You gushed over dramatically and put your hand over your heart.

“Is that a yes?” Tom asked as he stood up.

“I have to think about it. I don’t know if marriage is for me.” You shrugged as he slid the ring onto your finger. You looked down at the ring and remembered the time you tried it on as a little girl and how it didn’t fit your finger until now.

“Yes. I will marry you.” You smiled as you looked back up at Tom. Tom broke into a grin and scooped you up to spin you around.

“Sorry I wrote all those emo songs about you.” You said into his ear, making him laugh.

“It’s okay. It’s what you do.” He couldn’t stop smiling as he set you down. He then pulled you in for a long kiss to make up for all the time you were apart. When you pulled away, he pulled your face back towards him with his hands to kiss your left cheek.

“I see you.” He said, then kissed you right cheek.

“I choose you.” He continued, then kissed your forehead.

“I love you.” He said, the kissed your nose before looking into your eyes.

“And I know you.” He told you. You smiled softly and nodded your head.

“You do?” You asked him. “You really know me?”

“I do.”

Tag List 🏷️

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@maybemona @alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey

[literaila]

Hey, I don’t know what you make of love triangles but I’ve always wondered how Typical Family would look like if reader once had a “not so obvious” crush on Geto and the two almost looked like a couple except Geto only saw her as a friend and Satoru doesn’t actually start to “see” reader until he sees how broken up she is after Geto’s betrayal. Kind of looks like the thing between Sasuke/Sakura/Naruto (ahem Except Sakura takes the less toxic path). You don’t have to indulge in this nor does it have to be canon to your original story but I’m just curious 🌚

now i dont think satoru was ever jealous of suguru because 1. suguru is all-knowing and 2. suguru is a literal big brother to you and there is only platonic admiration there.

but. you know who satoru is jealous of? nanami kento.

okay, there’s really no arguing—the boy needs a haircut.

he also needs to stop letting you hang off of him, and taking you out to dinner (because you find his interest in food a bit bizarre, and funny), and making you laugh all of the goddamn time.

satoru may be the strongest, the prettiest—but he has the disadvantage of being older than you. it’s not often yaga sends the two of you somewhere together—or any of the first years with the seconds.

and it’s just not fair, okay?

the only reason you even train with satoru is because he’s the only person who can see your technique, the only one who has a fair fight.

in fact, the only reason satoru gets to hang out with you at all is because you like everyone else. your classmates like suguru and shoko—and tolerate satoru.

and maybe it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth when he sees you standing a little bit too close to nanami. maybe it makes him feel like his world could collapse—disappear—right in front of him.

he does not want to endure being subjected to your schoolgirl crush on a boy who can’t even be bothered to cut his hair. and what would you see in him anyway? are brown eyes preferable to his outer-worldly blue ones? is satoru’s hair just not yellow enough?

…is nanami your type?

all of this to say, it’s definitely not satoru’s fault that he just accidentally threw nanami across the courtyard.

it’s the boys fault, obviously, for daring you to wish him good luck, for saying something so funny before they began that his smug face is still so pleased from making you laugh.

it’s not satoru’s fault.

but he does realize his mistake when instead of aweing over him like he’d wanted—you rush to nanami.

satoru is standing there, a rare frown on his face, looking down at his hands like they’re going to give him some answers.

“are you taking your anger out on the first years, now?” suguru asks, dryly, looking over to where you’re checking nanami’s pupillary response.

“don’t know what you’re talking about,” satoru grumbles, feeling even more betrayed.

what does that kid offer than he can’t?

“you know you could just talk to her, right? you don’t need to beat nanami up to prove a point.”

“if he wasn’t so weak i wouldn’t have—“

and then you’re walking back to them, nanami’s arm slung over your back as you half carry him. his face is already puffing up. “where’s shoko?”

you give him a look with unbridled rage. satoru can already feel the scolding coming on.

“i think she had a meeting with yaga, or something,” satoru answers, giving you his best innocent look.

it does nothing.

suguru inspects nanami. “do you need help?”

“no,” you frown at the boy hanging on you and sigh. “i’m taking him to the infirmary. i don’t know where yu went, but if you see him will you tell him that we left?”

“sure.”

suguru nudges satoru. “uh, yeah. we’ll tell him.”

you nod sternly at them both. “thank you.”

and then you’re walking away, even closer to nanami than you were before.

satoru is already pouting. it doesn’t take much.

“you’re stupid, you know that?”

“he asked me to—!”

“he wanted to learn. not get a concussion for no reason.”

satoru waves a hand. “he wont even remember it tomorrow.”

suguru is smirking at him, looking like he knows something that satoru doesn’t. “because he has brain damage?”

“because shoko will heal him.”

suguru only shakes his head. “i’m going to find haibara. he probably got lost again.”

satoru nods but remains there, with his arms crossed.

seriously, nanami kento of all people?

*

meanwhile, you’re lugging kento up onto one of the tables in the infirmary, feeling like you should’ve forced gojo to carry him the whole way.

you would’ve—if the sight of him didn’t make you want to rip your hair out.

…for a multitude of reasons, of course.

“okay. you okay? how’s your head?”

“bruised.”

you snort, pushing his hair back so you can see the black eye that’s already developing. at least it won’t get the chance to turn purple, you think.

“i’m sorry. i don’t know why gojo did that.”

kento laughs, leaning again away from your hand. you wonder if it’s his possible concussion, or if what you said was really all that funny.

you’ve only gotten him to laugh like… three times.

“you can tell him that i’m not interested in stealing you away.”

“gojo?”

he nods.

“why would i tell him that?”

nanami’s eyes closed. he looks like he’s aged years in the last hour. “are you naturally ignorant, or are you trying to distract me?”

you cross your arms. “what do you mean?”

“whatever’s going on between you and that white haired freak, just leave me out of it.”

“going on? there’s nothing going on. gojo is just an idiot—“

“seems like it’s spreading.”

“are you sure you’re okay, ken? i think you’re going crazy.”

nanami sighs. you can practically see his eyes rolling under his eyelids. “where’s shoko?”

you look around, biting your lip. “i don’t know… i thought she’d be here by now. i’ll go check the classrooms.”

he nods.

“don’t fall asleep, okay? i mean it.”

“just hurry.”

and you turn around the door, more questions running through your head than when you walked in.

*

satoru is still standing there, contemplating his life choices (of which there have been few) when you’re running back across the courtyard.

but you slow as you near him, your eyes filled with intent.

and maybe he was waiting for this.

“you asshole,” you say, hitting him on the shoulder—which he allows because any moment of you touching him is one that satoru wants to savor. “what were you thinking?”

he stands there, completely still, for just a moment more. you’re here now. with him. who’s with nanami then?

still, he shrugs. “i just forgot how weak he was.”

“oh, you forgot? you forgot that it was training and kento isn’t some special grade curse you—“

“is he dead?”

“what? why would you say that?”

“if he was really a special grade curse he’d already be dead.”

“you’re so arrogant,” you grind out, shaking your head at him. “and reckless! kento probably has a concussion.”

“then why aren’t you looking after him?”

“i—what?”

“why are you here yelling at me,” satoru gestures to himself, a grin forming on his face. “instead of making sure that he’s okay?”

“i—“ your mouth opens. then closes. “i went to go look for shoko and i didn’t think that you…” you shake your head again, frowning.

satoru just smiles at you.

he likes you a bit flushed and angry anyway.

“stop smiling at me like that!”

“what? i’m not allowed to smile now?”

“no. after today you’re not allowed to do anything. you’re lucky i’m such a good person or else you’d be six feet under—“

“you expect me to believe that you would actually kill me?”

“if i didn’t have a moral obligation, yes.”

satoru laughs.

“shut up,” you say, hitting him again. “i’m angry enough that i could do it.”

he shakes his head, slinging his arm around your shoulder. he has to make up for all of the time that nanami got to cling to you—has to repossess this, or he might go insane.

“that’s not why i’m laughing.”

“get off of me.”

“you wouldn’t kill me,” satoru whispers, right in your ear, delighting in a shiver that you can’t hold back. “even if you could. you like me too much to do it.”

you push him off of you, scowling. “i do not like you—“ you insist, only slightly breathless. “you just beat up my friend for no reason.”

“friend?”

you scoff, crossing your arms and looking up at satoru like he’s a demon sent straight from hell—just to torment you.

have you ever looked at nanami like that?

no, satoru thinks, you haven’t.

“yes, friend,” you repeat, rolling your eyes, “i know you’re unfamiliar with the concept but really. why is everyone acting so weird today?”

satoru’s grin is almost blinding. there’s no one else you get so worked up over. no one else who you would pause just to yell at.

“c’mon,” he says, instead of answering. he pushes himself back onto you, pulling you close by your waist. “i’ll look for shoko with you. you can tell me about how much you like me on the way.”

“gojo satoru, i will still murder you—“

[lanormie]

blipped - mcu crossover au (pt. 2)

what if? the event of Thanos snap happened in the BNHA universe? you're forced to navigate the aftermath of The Blip, where half of the population get thrown back into existence after disappearing for five years. pairing: pro-hero!Shouto x f!pro-hero!reader (ft. slight katsuki x reader) read on AO3 previous part - next part

As soon as you step outside, it becomes very apparent why the entire agency was mobilized. Absolute carnage has descended everywhere you turn. Vehicles are piled up in clusters on the streets, there are screaming and honking and smashing from all around you.

You quickly realize you’re not alone in your fate as you witness dozens and dozens of people materialize from thin air, one after the other. Some are lucky enough to turn up on the sidewalk, while some get unceremoniously dropped off into oncoming traffic, barely having time to process anything before they mercifully get scooped up by some speedster hero.

And by the time you stop someone mere feet from smashing into the ground on their way down from the sky, your commute home is thwarted as your hero instinct kicks into gear. You re-materialized in the same space you had disappeared from, so it’s not hard to deduce that some might have been on a plane when they got zapped away.

You take to the sky and find yourself dotted among dozens of airborne heroes, all flying in frantic patterns as more and more people are dropping from the sky in frightening velocity. You push as high up as you can go without your oxygen gears and take full advantage of your quirk. Where your telekinesis quirk lacks in strength, it makes up for it in range. You’re able to grab people within a large radius and set them atop tall buildings nearby without having to move an inch. 

Though as proficient as your quirk is, you have never been trained to deal with such a bizarre scenario where it’s literally raining men. So when you’re busy holding up two people and two more suddenly appear right on top of you, your footing slips. While you’ve managed to bring the latter two into your hold, you’re losing altitude quick and struggling to brake. The building below is approaching at such a speed that would guarantee you more than a few broken bones, but grant you enough momentum to push back and cushion the touchdown for the four of them. 

You’re clenching your jaw and bracing for impact when something red zips past your face. Then all of a sudden the weight of all four people gets lifted off of you as they get sent to a soft landing nearby by the collar of their shirt.

Finally able to change course, you dash back upwards to catch up to your savior, his strawberry blond hair dances in the wind as he cheerily grins down at you.

“Heya kid! You were about to eat it there!” He chirps, his crimson wings filling back out as a few feathers rejoin their formation.

“Thanks, Hawks.” You offer him a small nod in gratitude, feeling utterly inadequate in front of the Number Two hero. Wait, is he still Number Two?  

“What a day to be off-duty huh?” He tilts his stubbly chin at your gym clothes and severe lack of flight gears. Rawdogging the clouds , as Denki once called it.

You shrug. “Apparently I’ve been off-duty for a very long time now.” 

Hawks freezes at the insinuation, just as another person (re)materializes in the distance behind him. Before you could move a muscle though, a feather jets out and swiftly escorts them to the nearest surface. Damn Hawks and his super hearing.

“So you all–” He points at you then to the person he just saved, gears visibly turning behind his golden eyes. Something snaps him out of it as he takes a sharp inhale. “Sorry, I– I have to make a call.”

“Wait, Hawks!” You yelped. Questions are clawing at your throat now, vying for solution. “Just a second please! Can you tell me what happened?”

“Oh, uh,” He stumbles for the right words. “This may sound crazy, but half of the entire universe disappeared a while ago ‘cause of a villain named Thanos. He’s uh, he’s an alien– It’s a long story.”

Half of the universe . An alien . Neither concept is registering to you at any meaningful speed.

So you focus on the thing that’s been bothering you the most.

“How long has it been?”

“The five year memorial was a few weeks ago.” 

Hawks watches as his reply sends you into a stupor. The avian hero’s only ever known you in passing, a friend of a friend of a friend, and in this moment, he wants to help, to say something. But there’s no protocol for this, no guidelines on how to proceed when these things happen. It’s all uncharted territory.

So he sticks around, making quiet phone calls to his staff, urging them to check the Lawson near the agency where Touya had headed to before his disappearance, while keeping an eye and ear out to make sure no one meets concrete at lightning speed, including you. 

And you, despite still absentmindedly handling the wave of people blipping into existence, is struggling to quantify how long five years are.

Five years ago you were leaving Musutafu for another city and started high school in Ketsubutsu. That alone feels like a lifetime ago. So much has changed during those years and it terrifies you how vastly different things could be now. After all, your boyfriend– as if he’s your boyfriend anymore, seemed to have moved on already.

No , file that thought away for god’s sake, people are literally falling from the sky and you can’t afford to let any of them slip through your fingers.

Cause maybe, just maybe, their loved ones haven’t abandoned them yet.

.

The resurgence didn’t last much longer than twenty minutes, but the chaos persists as you part ways with Hawks and head for the ground. Weaving your way through the clashing waves of people running and yelling into their phones, one step in front of another, you resort to muscle memory to take you towards your apartment, the calamity before your eyes doing absolutely nothing to help guide you there.

The street names are the same, but you don't recognize the shops. The paint and decors are all wrong . Even the trees are different. Even the–

Even the name of your apartment building is different.

A foreboding feeling looms over your head as you plug the front entrance code into the little key pad attached to the door handle. 0425.

It flashes red.

You try again. 0. 4. 2. 5.

It flashes red once more, this time with a warning beep.

The panic you’ve been repressing starts to unravel. It seeps into your blood, hitching a ride to every part of your body till it’s oversaturated, driving you to start banging on the door like a madwoman.

Thankfully, it’s a familiar face who answers it.

“Mrs. Hatanaka!” You almost cheer at the sight of the elderly receptionist. 

“Heavens almighty,” She adjusts her glasses with shaky hands and looks you all over. “Oh it’s really you!” She gasps and pulls you into your third bone crushing hug of the day. You suspect there will be many more. “Where have you been, dear?”

“I honestly have no idea.” You speak into her graying hair, all too quietly. “Mrs. Hatanaka,” You stand back as she pulls away. “I left work in a hurry and forgot my keys, would you mind lending me the spare from maintenance?”

For a moment, she just stares at you.

“Sweetheart,” She finally manages. “Your apartment got repossessed years ago.”

Something shatters in your brain and your vision goes blurry. 

“The building was turned over to a new owner when the previous one went missing with everyone else.” She continues. “They terminated all the leases from the reported blipped folks, even though someone was trying to pay your rent for a while– oh dear, do you need to sit down?”

“What– oh.” Your eyes manage to refocus enough to spot all the floating potted plants and small items swirling in the air around you. “I’m sorry.” Reeling your quirk back with slight difficulty, you set everything back down just as a mop of red and white appears in your peripherals.

Shouto jogs over, disheveled and huffing for air. 

“Things got out of hand on 7th Ave so I got delayed.” He rests his palm on a nearby column, trying to catch his breath. “But I figured you’d be here.”

“Not for long.” You run your hands back and forth over your scalp to chase away the tingling numbness. “I don’t have a home anymore, Sho.”

“I see.” He nods, straightening up. “Neither do I.”

* * * * *

The Todoroki family home looks almost identical to the last time you set foot in here. The furniture have stayed in their exact same spots, down to the light blue shawl draped over the back of the couch. The tatami mat under your feet is cold to the touch, yet the familiarity and the memories of running up and down these halls offer so much warmth. You used to call this place your second home, having spent a whole lot of time here growing up, your cousin-turned-guardian being too swept up in work to really be present more than necessary.

You breathe in this moment of respite along with the toasty aroma of the genmaicha Auntie Rei has made for you and Shouto, and let your shoulders drop for the first time today. You pick up bits of and pieces of Shouto’s recount of running by his apartment and seeing an office building instead as he’s talking to his mom and sister, but you mostly stare at the steaming tea cup. Their reunion was a teary one, at least on Rei and Fuyumi’s end, so it doesn’t feel right to intrude no matter how much you still have trouble wrapping your head around all of this.

To you, no time has passed. You were just here yesterday . Not here in Shouto’s family home but here on this Earth. Then in a blink of an eye, you lost your boyfriend, your home, and five years of your life. Where do you even go from here? Do you just wake up and go to work tomorrow like normal? No, the agency is the last place you’d want to find yourself in right now. And do you even work there anymore? 

“Mom, Nats just heard from Touya!” Fuyumi exclaims from behind the kitchen counter, phone in hand. “He said Kei will try to drag him over tomorrow. Said Toto’s super confused and cranky at the moment.”

“That sounds like him.” Shouto deadpans, completely overlooking the fact that Rei’s tearing up again. 

“Yeah.” Fuyumi starts sniffling too. “Yeah it does.”

You stare harder into your tea. You’ve been in so much shock that you haven’t shed a single tear the whole day, but now you’re approaching the end of the rope and the sight of them crying might hurl you over that threshold.

As if sensing your distress, Shouto attempts to change the subject and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“By the way Mom, where’s Dad?”

Nice going Shouto, nobody gets emotional around here about good ol’ Endeavor.

“Enji’s been in a coma for a couple months now.”

Oh.

* * * * *

There is no footage from the battle at the Avengers Complex, so the news turns to cover the sacrifice and death of Iron Man instead. A purportedly quirkless hero, though it’s highly speculated that he has some sort of intelligence quirk, considering all of his astonishing achievements.

Apparently he’s had a hand in bringing everyone back today. You have mad respect for the man, yet in this moment you can’t find it in yourself to be grateful.

You try changing the channel, but it’s a constant repeat of his story and images of the chaos during the resurgence, so you turn off the TV and flop down.

Fuyumi’s pajamas, though extremely soft and comfy, feel super strange on your body. So does the futon you’re sprawling out on in a corner of the Todoroki’s guest room. Even the air you’re breathing in is heavy with something foreign. Everything feels…wrong. It’s like you’re not supposed to be here. Like you’re not supposed to exist .

A knock on the door disrupts your thoughts. 

Sliding the shoji screen door open, you are greeted with Shouto, in PJs that he’s clearly grown out of, and two steaming mugs of something that smells invitingly sweet.

“I promised you hot cocoa before we ‘died’.” The quotation is implied as best as it can in his even voice. He hands you your mug. “Caramel and a pinch of sea salt.”

Your favorite way of jazzing up a hot choc. “Thanks, Sho.”

You and Shouto sit quietly across from each other at the kotatsu, sipping your respective warm drink. It’s comfortable like this, his long legs tangling with yours under the blanket as you let each other arrive at the conversation at your own pace.

Sometimes, the conversation never comes at all.

“Sorry about Katsuki–”

“Sorry about your dad–”

Today, the conversation comes at the same time. 

You bust out a laugh, the taut string in the back of your head snapping. Shouto follows with his own chuckle, you both falling into a manic sort of hysterics from the sheer ridiculousness of your reality. This is it, the dam has broken, you can’t hold back anymore, and your laughter promptly turns into tears.

Before you know it, Shouto has left his side of the table to crawl over to you. He holds you over his right side, he always does when you cry, to cool your eyes down so they don’t swell and sooth your skin as it inevitably becomes raw with salty tears.

He lets your sobs even out to a steady sniffle before reaching for your mug with his left hand and gently heating it back up. 

“Your shirt’s wet.” You frown.

“I’ve got plenty more.” He gives you the mug. 

You sit back, holding your drink and knees to your chest. “What do we even do now?”

“Right now, you need to sleep.” He points at you with his spoon, then moves to aimlessly fish for tiny pieces of marshmallow in his mug. “As for tomorrow, I don’t know.” He sets the mug down, seeing that the marshmallows would just all fall apart. “But you don’t have to do it alone. Cause if today tells me anything, it’s that you can’t get rid of me .”

He finishes his sentence with a light boop on your nose, causing you to genuinely smile for the first time in what feels like five actual goddamned years .

You hold out your hand.

“Friends even in death?”

He grabs it and gives it a firm shake. “Even in death.”

[bookfangirler]

So I have this fic I’m writing that I’ve spent an ungodly amount of time writing. I’m talking years. Seven years at this point and I only just now hit the halfway point. Why has it taken me so long? Because what was originally a 25ch fix-it became a massive 91ch character deep-dive. The current plot is damn near unrecognizable from what I first wrote because it’s gone through at least four rounds of rewrites because as I get further along in the story I realize that I want to do more with the characters and have to back track to flesh out the story enough to fulfill those wants.

But what that means now is I have this fic that’s gonna be around 550k+ words that I am dying to release to the world (I haven’t posted a single ch yet because holy hell I want this story to be finished before I start releasing it because I will NOT be revising it after that point someone save me pls).

There’s so much going on in the fic behind the scenes. Sometimes it will take me hours to decide how one line of dialogue turns out because I am playing a delicate game of staying in character while also putting said character through something they absolutely wouldn’t come out unchanged from. There’s foreshadowing on top of foreshadowing on top of parallels and call-backs.

I have sunk literal years into this on and off project because I love the story I have built dearly, but what kills me is that I’m half convinced I’ll never post it. Oh I’ll finish it for myself alright, but I have been in this fandom for twelve years already and I have to say it is probably the most toxic fandom I have ever had the misfortune of being in. And with my bad luck, I do not ship the two main canon couples and have actively broke them up to ship my OTP. But this ship was my very first OTP. It’s what got me into fandom shipping. It’s what got me into fanfics period. I so desperately want to release the fic but at the same time I so desperately want to avoid that storm of bullshit.

oh well, we’ll see what happens. Maybe I keep it on a Google doc and only let my two irl fandom friends read it while vagueposting here lol. Here’s to 7+ years of effort that may never see the light of day.

[doublebellyman]

Big Boy, Short Story

A short story featuring a fat man getting fatter at the hands of a relentless feeder. Written so the reader can select their gender of choice for the feeder.

***

His bloated reflection completely filled the medicine cabinet mirror so he didn’t see them stealthily sneaking up from behind, that is until they delivered a thunderous slap to his left butt cheek, sending ripples and shockwaves through the two hundred pounds of soft jiggly fat he’d added to his already fat form since moving in just two short years ago. “Didn’t see me coming did you Big Boy? But I just couldn’t resist those juicy round cheeks of yours … when you moved in you carried all your tonnage in your belly but now you’re just massive all over … and I mean ALL OVER … here let me give my blubbery boyfriend a quick tour …”

At that, they reached their arms as far as they could around the vast circumference of his belly (“love this belly, we’ll need to measure this today to see if you’re over six feet around yet”). Then they shifted their hands to his swollen stretch marked moobs (“oh babe, your tits have just gotten so massive … I swear they’re bigger now than that old 400-pound girlfriend of yours and she what, a triple J cup?”).

By then moaning at their soft touch against his sensitive nipples, they moved on to his broad fat-encrusted shoulders and his meaty upper arms that hid any muscle tone he once may have possessed.

And then they moved their hands downward, asking him “do you realize that your front boobs now reach all the around so you now have back boobs too? They’re so delicious but I think I like your massive love handles even more, the way they reach around front and join with your giant saggy bottom roll … you know if you put on another fifty pounds that thing is gonna completely cover your knees!”

“That feels SO good,” he finally spoke. “I know it does Tubby and I just love playing with all your rolls and folds and bulges, and the way it gives you pleasure!”

“Please keep it up,” he pleaded.

They giggled— “you mean my massage or my endless feedings or the incredible sex, what do you want me to keep up Fatty? TELL ME!”

“ALL OF IT!”

“Very well, your wish is my command, Your Lardship … now turn around and let me work on that saggy baggy belly a bit more. But first, wait here a second …”

They stepped away and returned bearing a silver tray with a half dozen extra large chocolate eclairs stacked high.

The fat boyfriend’s eyes bulged at the sight and his cock instantly grew rigid under his panniculus, the one they mentioned was hanging precariously close to his knees.

“I love you baby — I was so hungry!”

“When aren’t you hungry?”

“Good point, I suppose.”

“Don’t worry Two Ton, these will all be in your belly soon enough, now open up wide!”

They proffer the first eclair and he takes a giant bite with chocolate icing and vanilla custard smearing his lips, cheeks, and chins.

“You can’t believe how much it turns me on to see you eat like this — you’re such fat mess! Now kiss me Fatty and let me taste all that chocolate and custard goodness … you’re so delicious and I can literally see you getting fatter in front of me!”

“I can feel it making me fatter, so keep shoving ‘em in —I want, no I NEED for you to make me the fat man I’ve always dreamed of being!”

“Here goes then Big Boy — now pretend you’re going down on me and suck the custard out of this bad boy … let me see you use your tongue then suck it all out Fatty …that’s so sexy I’m actually getting wet, Oh God … now grab the remains with both hands and cram it all in your mouth at once … and here’s another … now grab your rolls with your chocolate-covered hands and give them a big shake while I feed you eclair #4 … that’s it my messy Piggy … now let me lick that mess of your belly before I stuff the last two in you!”

“But Baby, I’m full and fit to burst …”

“Are you telling me that my gluttonous boyfriend can’t polish off a mere half dozen eclairs?”

#5 was down in two giant bites and #6 in three, as they caressed his tight swollen upper belly and played with his super soft lower belly and panniculus.

“You’re just such an obedient feeder, doing whatever your feeder orders … now lift that underbelly for me and let it drop … again (she squeeled with delight) … now shake your hips and let it sway back and forth for a few times …”

“Babe, I hate to interrupt but I really gotta sit down …”

“OK, you’re just so pathetically out of shape … just a total blimp … but let’s get you on the scale first and see if you’ve reached your two year goal … “

He gingerly balances his bulk on the bathroom scale hoping it won’t break in half after his latest gains at the hands of his relentless feeder.

Not able to see the result over the crest of his enormously curved upper belly, he impatiently asks “so?”

With a huge smile on their face they deliver a playful slap to his ridiculously protruding belly, again sending ripples and waves throughout … “my Rotund Romeo, we need to buy you a new scale ‘cause you maxed this 500-pound model out! … I’m thinking we need to get you an industrial thousand pound capacity model — what do you think Lardo?”

He just smiled and asked “can you fix me breakfast now?”

“I’m so happy your hunger has returned so quickly!”

Patting his belly for emphasis and giving his bottom roll another good shake, he responded “I’ll definitely need the thousand pound model if I spend two more years living with you!”

“Oh you’re definitely up for it my big blubbery Butter Ball!”

[charmwasjess]

If Lucasfilm hires you to develop a project what do you pitch?

(Happy Thanksgiving btw 🦃)

Forgive me o’ Geode, friend and sender of fun asks, but the pitch would be me asking to use the restroom and then sneaking out through an open window.

I know! I know! What a boring answer! That sounds so cynical and unfun! Jess LOVES Star Wars content!! So why is she crying?!

Problem is, I think I would want to pitch The Acolyte. 

Of course, I disagree with Leslye Headland’s take on the Jedi Order completely. But I can’t say I didn’t have fun with that show, or that I wouldn’t have tried to do the exact same thing she did with some meaningful differences: get a Jedi-centric story away from the Skywalker Saga, explore weird places, make it dark and edgy and sexy, diverse leads, LGTBQIA+ characters treated like real characters, big tasty lightsaber fights. And it would get cancelled just like The Acolyte did, as none of the things I wanted to fix about the show were the reasons for its failure. 

I don’t think it’s just Star Wars, by the way. It is ROUGH out there for creative people working on projects, big or small. The industry is changing in ways that are still being realized as stories change to franchises which change to corporate properties managing streaming conglomerates. I imagine it will get a great deal worse before it gets better as companies start to cheap out on AI. I’ve talked to Netflix producers, friends who write for Marvel projects, and closer to home, my partner just realized the creative dream of a lifetime: the book he’s worked on for seven years got published by THE publisher in his scene. It’s a success! His fans are fantastic! The reviews are great! He’s sold so many copies so quickly that he would qualify for NYT bestsellers criteria if they listed his genre. His experience with the process was like pulling fucking teeth. He was unsupported with the book on every level by his publishers, fought for every good decision, and the whole process was exhausting and demoralizing.  

I can’t imagine how quickly the dream turns into a nightmare for someone taking on a Lucasfilm project, getting the chance to tell a story they’re deeply passionate about, and then it fails utterly for reasons entirely outside of their control.  

Anyway, without invoking Apollo’s red ball, I do want to talk about a Dooku: Jedi Lost adaptation for a second. Because of course, imagining well done cinematic scenes of certain favorite moments in that book - the Tirra ‘taka or Sifo-Dyas’s sandstorm while Dooku’s blue blade is just cutting down foes left and right - make my nips so hard they just break off and go flying around the room, smashing up the furniture. It’s impossible not to dream “well, what if they just did it really well?” 

But here’s where I think it falls apart. Regardless of how you view the platonic or romantic nature of Sifo-Dyas and Dooku's relationship, a good half the book is two male characters having intimate, affirming conversations about their feelings. Can you imagine a Star Wars property where the male leads look at each other and say lines like “you’re here. With me.” or the whole “I’m in.” “I”m in” exchange as their ship literally falls burning from the sky? Disney would probably turn it into a lightsaber fight, and yeah, I’d reblog the shit out of those gifs, but I think it would erase something core that I love in the narrative that is perfectly captured in the medium it’s in right now. Something tender and understated and rare.

....And even if they captured that aspect perfectly, part of the “fandom” that hadn’t seen a Star Wars film since May 2005 would bleat “woke” and complain that their wife left them because someone (me) ruined Count Dooku.

[wintaerbaer]

things we don’t say: part 2 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon​

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 11.4k

chapter warnings: IN THE SOOP TAE, swearing, alcohol consumption, feelings?, implied sexual situations (not for oc), that chicken fight game you can play in a pool (definitely not the animal cruelty kind, just want to clarify), bartender jungkook (who is also an absolute MENACE), infidelity, namjoon’s chest

a/n: we’re heading into the thick of things now! thank you to everyone who has shown this series love thus far. and even to those who may be silently reading, i appreciate each and every one of you. these characters have been in my head for years, and it’s so incredible to finally get to share them!

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

You’re starting to think you might be a terrible friend.

It's been a week and a half since Maya's art show when Jimin slides into the chair next to you in your office building's cafeteria. You've worked at the same company since graduation but in different departments, so while you don't see each other every day, you occasionally grab lunch together or pop over to each other's desk for a quick chat.

"Hey, stranger," he chirps, setting his food on the table before peering closely at your face. "Almost forgot what you looked like."

You roll your eyes at him. After the incident at the gallery sent your brain into an emotional spiral, you had decided to put some distance between you and Taehyung until you could figure out what the hell this all meant for your friendship. As a result, you hadn't been over to the guys' apartment since then—an unusually long amount of time for you to stay away.

Jimin frowns at your lack of a response, leaning forward until you look at him. "You avoiding us?"

"No," you say simply, busying yourself by taking a bite of your lunch.

"Sorry, let me rephrase. Are you avoiding Tae?"

You chew slowly, carefully considering your words before settling on, "Why would I be?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking. For a friend of course." Jimin shrugs. "He mentioned that you haven't really been talking to him—asked if I knew why. Plus, you missed two Sunday meal preps."

"I've missed them before—"

"Two!"

You purse your lips, guilt creeping in at the thought of Taehyung spending two nights cooking alone as you broke your tradition. "You can tell him what I told him—I've been busy."

Jimin frowns again, watching you stare at the table as you chew another bite. "Is something going on? Did he say something to you?"

"About what?" you ask, eyes snapping up to his.

"I..." he hesitates, suddenly uneasy. "I don't know. I just know that I've never seen you two like this."

"Like what?"

"Apart."

You give a dry laugh, more out of nerves than anything. "Chim, we're not literally attached at the hip, you know? We have our own lives."

"Yah, you know that's not what I mean." He sighs. "I can just tell he's missing you, that's all.”

If getting called out on missing meal prep nights made you feel guilty, then this is the true slap to the face. Taehyung may be mild and introspective by nature—a quiet force in his own right—but he holds close those who are dear to him, and you know he can't be pleased with your recent silence.

Still, any guilt tingling through your veins inevitably winds up outweighed by the memory of the flash of heartbreak that had crossed his face at the party, reinforcing your need for space.

"Well we'll see each other in a couple days," you murmur, a tiny burst of excitement breaking into your mind at the thought of your upcoming vacation.

Property of Jungkook's family, the beach house rarely used by his parents had become a staple for your friend group over the years as the go-to site for New Year’s parties and summer holidays. When Hoseok and Sunny had lamented the astronomical cost of the wedding and how they were going to opt out of having bachelor and bachelorette parties to help save money, Jungkook had offered up the house to do a combined pre-wedding bash to celebrate their upcoming nuptials.

Jimin taps his fingers on the table, looking at you quietly before accepting the change in topic. "It should be fun. Jace coming?"

"No, he has that conference."

"Damn," Jimin huffs. "Does that guy ever get a day off?"

"Guess he had to afford the ring somehow," you say, the corners of your mouth tilting up on impulse.

Jimin smiles back. "And here I was, wishfully thinking we might get a front row seat to a proposal this weekend."

“Not his vibe.” You scrunch your nose. “He never went to the house as frequently as everyone else. And I don’t know if he’d want a bunch of other people around. At least not people who know us.”

“Aww, why not?” Jimin whines. “We could all celebrate with you! And Maya could take pictures!”

“Or Tae.”

“Or—yeah, or Tae.”

You pretend not to have noticed his hesitation or the way he startled at that, and certainly not the way it made your pulse jump. Has everyone really been seeing this except you?

“Regardless,” you say, trying to ignore the sudden nausea rolling in your stomach, “I don’t think he’ll do it in front of you guys. And if he was going to ask Maya to take pictures, I think he would’ve done so by now if he was going to propose soon.”

When you had told Maya about the ring the afternoon after the gallery opening, she’d seemed genuinely surprised, clapping her hands together and immediately calling dibs on being maid of honor.

Go figure.

“Ah, well,” Jimin sighs. “There’s always the planning to help with.” He holds up a hand and begins ticking off his fingers. “And the bridal shower, the bachelorette party, rehersal dinner, eventual baby shower—“

“Woah, Park, getting a little ahead of yourself now, no?”

“Y/N, this is an exciting time for you! I’m excited for you!” He slurps down a mouthful of his noodle bowl. “And maybe I’m living a little vicariously through you. Maybe. A little.”

“Geez, Kook’s right, you are in a drought.”

“Oh, great. You too now?”

You giggle as he dramatically presses a hand to his forehead, food puffing out his cheeks.

“But really though,” he says, leaning forward again with concern in his eyes, “you are excited, right? After you told us about the ring, you seemed a bit off.”

Shit.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I haven’t seen you get drunk that fast in a while.”

“I was happy for Maya and Tae.”

“And yourself?”

“Yeah, and myself.”

Jimin stares at you for a long few seconds, clearly not buying what you’re selling. “Fine. Don’t tell me.” He leans back in his chair in a way that says he’s letting you off the hook. “But you’d better figure out this weird thing with Tae before he corners you at the house. Good luck avoiding him then.”

Okay, maybe not entirely off the hook.

The rest of the short work week passes in a blink, and you quickly find yourself packing for your trip on Wednesday night, the plan being to leave Thursday morning and stay until Monday. Jace fiddles with his phone on the bed, occasionally glancing up to watch you flit around the room as you fill your travel bag with an excessive amount of clothes.

"Are you leaving for five days or a month?" he teases as you cram ten pairs of underwear into a side pocket.

"I like to keep my options open," you say. "Never know what could happen with the weather."

"Or your bladder, apparently."

"Hey, it's gonna be hot. I'll have to hydrate."

He laughs at that before his eyes settle on you with a warmth that has you shifting under his gaze.

“What?”

“I just love you, you know?” he hums.

Warmth blooms in your chest. “I love you, too.”

“It’s going to suck being apart.”

“I know,” you sigh. “I wish you could’ve come.”

At your words, you feel like you can literally see a light bulb turn on in his head as his expression brightens with an idea. “Do you want to take my jacket?”

He can only mean one jacket. You’d found it together a month after you started dating at a thrift shop downtown, and it’s been his signature piece of clothing ever since. Jace had pulled the bomber jacket and its bright green satin off the rack, and your first reaction had been to laugh. The thing practically glowed.

“You’ll look like a traffic light,” you’d giggled.

But Jace was already pulling the shimmering material over his shoulders. “Consider this your green light to jump my bones whenever you want,” he’d said with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“I’d feel bad separating you from it, to be honest,” you say in the present. “I’m pretty sure a piece of your soul is tied to that jacket by now.”

He pouts. “You’ll be carrying a piece of my heart already; what’s a piece of my soul?”

“Smooth.” You poke at your bag. “I may not have any extra room in here though.”

“Fair enough, but if you change your mind, the offer still stands. What time are you leaving tomorrow?"

"Eleven. Should get us there a little before lunch."

"Us?" He pauses, setting down his phone. "You're driving with Tae?"

"No, Maya." A tinge of panic drops into your chest at the mention of Taehyung's name. Does he know? "Why?"

Jace shrugs, nonchalant. "No reason, just wondering. And you're back Monday?"

"Mhm, by dinnertime." You settle on the bed next to him, trailing your fingers along his forearm. "Do you want to maybe do a date night after work that day?"

He sighs deeply, tilting his head back against the headboard. "We have our conference debrief Monday, so who knows when I'll get home." You nod in understanding, but the disappointment must show on your face because then Jace is leaning forward to take your hand in his. "I'll tell you what, I know work has been keeping me from you lately, so let me make up for it.”

The pads of his fingers lightly dance along your jaw. "Fancy date night next Saturday? That upscale Italian place on Fifth that you love so much? I can make a reservation."

Your heart pounds as you will your eyes not to subconsciously drift to his desk, and you put on your best poker face. "It's a date."

The drive proves an easy one for you and Maya as sunny weather and a surprising lack of traffic has you at the house in under an hour. As you drive through the iron gates, a small mansion, white and pristine, spreads itself out before you, and you're once again reminded of just how wealthy a family Jungkook comes from.

You had grown up very well-off, sure, but Jungkook’s parents and their vast real estate portfolio are on an entirely different level of rich. And while your parents had immediately cut you off right after you left for college, Jungkook’s parents continue to supplement his bartending income with a monthly allowance to this day.

The word “spoiled” is a bit of an understatement when it comes to your friend.

"You sure you don't want anything more serious with Kook?" you tease Maya, who sits in the passenger seat with her dark sunglasses over her eyes. "All this could be yours."

"As if," she scoffs. "Not worth it to have to put up with his ass for the rest of eternity."

You key in the code for the front door and are greeted by a multitude of voices, the cavernous open-concept kitchen/dining room/living room only serving to amplify those inside. Hoseok and Sunny are quick to reel you in, introducing you to Sunny's three bridesmaid friends, Hoseok's brother (who you’ve met a few times before), and—

"Joonie!"

Namjoon swoops in to pull you into a bear hug while lamenting how long it's been since he last saw you. Hoseok's best friend since freshman year of college, the former pre-med major had been a core member of your group of friends, but med school combined with helping to manage his family's restaurant means that you rarely see him nowadays in spite of him sharing an apartment with Hoseok and Sunny.

"How's the roomie search going?" you ask as Namjoon pulls Maya into an equally crushing hug.

"Mmph, still no luck. Though I may have an old friend from grade school moving into the city soon, so we'll see if that pans out." He throws a quirked brow at Hoseok. "But I haven't entirely given up on convincing these two to reconsider breaking up the dream team."

"Ah, Joon, you really wanna live with two newlyweds that badly?" Hoseok whines. "Just think about it for two seconds. Really think about it."

Namjoon clicks his tongue, cheeks now tinged with a dusting of pink. "Okay, maybe you have a point."

The light mingling continues as everyone settles in, and you find yourself taking stock of the kitchen and planning a grocery run with Sunny's friends when the last three members of your party come spilling through the door. Your companions head back to the entrance for introductions, but you stay firmly put, mindlessly busying yourself with plates and silverware, nerves alight at the thought of who just entered the house.

Voices still echoing from the living room, it's only a minute or so later when you sense the quiet presence of someone stepping into the kitchen, and, ever in sync, you don't need to turn around to know who.

"Hey, can I talk to you?"

You turn on instinct, your body responding to his voice before your brain can remind you of your avoidance. Taehyung leans against the kitchen island in a long-sleeved yellow shirt, baseball cap turned backwards on his head. Chin slightly tilted towards his chest, he's gazing at you from under his lashes, and you recognize it as nerves. "I, um, I'm about to go on a grocery run."

"I can come with?" he offers. "Keep you company, carry the heavy stuff—"

"I made plans to go with Sunny's friends, actually."

"Oh, okay." His shoulders drop ever so slightly, and you glance away at the shoreline crashing in the distance, anywhere but at your best friend looking like a kicked puppy in front of you because of your own cowardice.

"Listen, Y/N—"

"Later?" You quickly interrupt, not mentally prepared to have this conversation right now, especially with Jimin casting you looks from where he stands in the living room.

Taehyung licks his lips, seeming to scan your face for something before he swallows down words on the tip of his tongue, grimacing as if they're nails. "Yeah, okay. Later."

When you said later, you truly meant it. While you and Sunny’s friends (Taehyung thinks their names were Iseul, Hana, and Yumi) run out for groceries, the rest of the group bustles around the house, splitting up rooms, settling in, and eventually migrating to the pool. Taehyung tries to catch you again when you return, but you hurry past him with a box of liquor, mumbling something about helping Jungkook set up the bar out back. Sunny’s friends dump the rest of the groceries on the kitchen island before scurrying away to the back deck with everyone else, which is how Taehyung winds up unpacking the bags.

Alone.

Nice.

He’s pushing a box of ramyeon on top of the fridge when he hears the back door click and slide open behind him.

“Need a hand?”

Namjoon walks into the kitchen, fingers poking at one of the bags.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

They unload the groceries in a comfortable silence for a couple of minutes before Namjoon says, “So how have things been?”

Taehyung shrugs a shoulder. “Ah, you know, the usual. You?”

“Same.”

Quiet takes over again, and Taehyung thinks the conversation has ended before it even really started as he moves to place a bottle of orange juice into the fridge. But then—

“I heard about Y/N and Jace.”

Taehyung freezes mid-motion, the cool air from the open fridge slipping out and chilling his skin. When he looks up at Namjoon, the other man is studying him with a calm intensity that raises goosebumps along his arms. It’s not his first time being under Namjoon’s microscope, but he’ll never get used to the feeling of being simultaneously picked apart and comforted. Because while his friend may exude a quiet warmth, he always gives the sense that there’s also a million calculations going on under the surface at any given time.

It’s easy to let one’s guard down around Namjoon.

With that in mind, Taehyung opts for the simplest answer, slowly closing the refrigerator and saying, “Yeah?”

Namjoon nods, equally slow. “Are you alright?”

“I’m great,” Taehyung says, breaking the eye contact and closing the refrigerator to reach for another bag. “She’s always wanted this. And Jace is…” He finds himself rooting around his brain trying to find a descriptor for the guy. For someone who he’s known for several years, it’s bizarre how he can’t find a single word for him.

Weird.

“She’s happy with him,” is what he eventually comes out with.

“But is he right for her?” Namjoon presses.

“You think he’s not?”

Namjoon reaches up to put a few bags of snacks into a cupboard. “I don’t know. It’s like he was always around in college, but he was never truly present, you know?”

“That’s a Joon-ism if I’ve ever heard one.”

Namjoon smiles, a dimple dotting his cheek. “You don’t get what I mean?”

“No, I do. But that’s not important, is it? It doesn’t matter if we think he’s the right guy; it matters if she thinks he’s the right guy. And if she does, then I support it. It’s not my place to do anything else.”

The words settle in the room, and he means every one.

“You know, I’ve always admired the two of you,” Namjoon says after a moment. “The way you care for each other is…extraordinary, to say the very least.”

The sincerity in his voice makes Taehyung blush. “Well, we only had each other growing up, you know? She saved my life when we were kids. I truly believe that.”

“I know, you’ve said that before. She gave you a way out.”

“A way out, a purpose, a friend.” He crumples a plastic bag into his hand. “She chose me when no one else did. Not even my own family.”

And you had, when no one else seemed to want anything to do with him, there you were, hanging by his side like his own personal guardian angel.

“She’s the most incredible person I know, and I would just…do anything for her.”

“Including watch her marry him, apparently.”

“Yes,” Taehyung says. Unhesitating. “If that’s what she wants.”

“And where does that leave you?”

Taehyung has nothing to answer that with—his worst fear laid bare in front of him. It’s the thought that keeps him up at night, plagues the very marrow of his bones every time someone mentions that tiny velvet box. Your childhood friendship may have allowed you to grow together as one through the years, but just as trees grow apart as they grow upwards, it feels like only a matter of time before your branches no longer intertwine, drawn apart by jobs and relationships, life and love.

How long until you’ve outgrown him? How long until you’ve started your own family and left him behind?

He has no right to you, and he knows that. The last thing he would ever want to do is hold you back, but perhaps a part of him thought he’d have more time. Now, with you suddenly not talking to him for reasons he can’t even begin to grasp, he feels like he may have already lost you.

Namjoon puts him out of his misery. “Do you know what Plutarch said about friendship?”

“Who?”

“I don’t need a friend who changes when I change and who nods when I nod; my shadow does that much better.”

Taehyung stares, stunned and confused. Because Namjoon couldn’t possibly be suggesting…

“You’re saying I should tell her to say no to him?”

“I’m saying it’s possible to be selfless to a fault.”

It doesn’t sound terribly different in Taehyung’s mind, but he tries to consider Namjoon’s words regardless. Your happiness has always been his utmost priority, but could his unconditional support really be doing more harm than good? He likes to believe that if he felt your well-being were truly at risk, he would speak up.

Then again, with the way his friend is looking at him, he also can’t help but feel like he’s missing something important.

“What are you trying to specialize in again?” he asks, deflecting.

“Psychiatry.”

“Of course.”

Namjoon chuckles. “It’ll all work out in the end.” He winks, moving to rejoin your friends outside. “Life finds a way.”

You’ve managed to evade Taehyung all day, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t felt his eyes on you.

The early hours had been easy, your supermarket run giving you an (albeit weak) excuse to put some physical distance between the two of you. But it’s becoming increasingly difficult to maintain, especially after your group gathered together to decide what to do tonight.

When you’d entered the living room, Taehyung had already been seated at the end of the couch, a free spot open on his left; with the way that his hand had been resting, it was almost as if he was saving it for you. Instead, you’d chosen an armchair diagonally across from him, squirming more and more the longer he looked at you. Throughout the entire conversation, as the group decided upon going to the beach bar down the street to kick off your first night at the house, you don’t think his eyes left you even once.

You’re being a coward, and you know it.

Now, you sit at the vanity in your room, struggling with your necklace and just about ready to give up on the damn thing so you don’t hold everyone else up. The clasp doesn't want to cooperate, your fingers can't seem to get purchase on the thin metal, and really, who are you trying to look good for anyway?

Right as you prepare to abandon the cause and stuff the offending item back in your bag, someone knocks on the door and you yell for them to come in.

Taehyung saunters into the room, now wearing a black t-shirt and shorts, his hair pushed back in such a way that you can tell he's been running his hands through it. His eyes skim your figure as he softly closes the door behind him, and you feel your pulse double in pace. "Need help?"

"It's okay—I, um—" but before you can stutter out an excuse, he's already taking the thin chain from your hands, and all you can do is try not to focus on how his fingers feel brushing the back of your neck.

"There. Easy peasy." He eyes you up and down again before clearing his throat. "Looks good on you."

"I, uh, thanks." Your voice is practically a whisper, and you busy yourself with your make-up case...which may have been an adequate distraction if not for the fact that you've already done your make-up and so your hands are only left to wander aimlessly. Glancing up, you catch Taehyung gazing at you over your shoulder in the mirror, and the intensity of his stare has you dropping the case back to the table. "What?"

"You're avoiding me." He states it as a fact, eyes unwavering, and you turn to face him.

"I'm not."

"You are." He searches your face as if to find the answer written there in big, bold letters. "Why?"

A tiny spider makes its way across the corner of the ceiling, and you find yourself staring at it as you chew on your bottom lip, not knowing what to say.

"Hey," Taehyung murmurs, pulling your attention back to him. "It's me, yeah? We don't keep secrets."

But still you hesitate. "You won't get mad?"

He reaches out to hook his pinky with yours. "Of course not."

Letting out a shaky breath, you ask, "Are you okay with Jace proposing?" The question hangs between you for a second, the air thickening with apprehension.

His eyebrows press together, confused. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know, it's just..." You pause to collect your thoughts. "When I told you about the ring at the gallery opening, there was a second where you appeared to be…bothered."

"Ahh, well..." He pushes his hands through his hair, mulling over his next words. "Do you want me to be honest?"

"Please."

"I know we're friendly, but I've just never been his biggest fan, even in college." Taehyung shrugs. "You know I want the best for you, and he seems like a good guy and all, I just—I don't know." Another run of his hand through his hair. "I just get a weird vibe from him sometimes."

You smirk at that. "A weird vibe?"

"Yeah, like," he licks his lips, still fidgeting. "I can't put my finger on anything in particular, just something about him rubs me the wrong way sometimes." You open your mouth to respond and he quickly cuts in, "But I will 100% support you! If he's who you want and he makes you happy and treats you well, then I will cheer you on the whole way. Hell, I'll even walk you down the aisle if you want me to." That draws a small laugh from you, and he smiles. "If you’re happy, then I’m happy for you. That's all I care about."

You take in his beaming figure and are reminded of how thankful you are to have this man in your life. But the voice in the back of your head is still not entirely placated and before you can stop yourself, you're blurting, "And that's really it?"

Taehyung's smile fades, lips slowly turning downward into a frown, and you silently curse yourself. After seventeen years of friendship, the man can practically read your mind and you know it. "What aren't you telling me?"

You sigh. Seems like there's no way getting around it at this point, and so you decide you may as well dive in. Tucking your hair behind your ears, you quietly ask, "You don’t…have feelings for me?”

Taehyung's eyes blow wide, and you're surprised his jaw isn't touching the floor. After several moments of stunned silence, he lets out a strangled, "What?"

"No, I just—" you stutter. "Look, someone said you did, and after you seemed upset about Jace proposing, I thought maybe..."

He's deeply scowling now, the crease back between his eyebrows, and a flare of his nostrils indicates that he's pissed. "Who?" he asks.

"Who what?"

"Who said that?"

"Tae—"

"No, Y/N, if people want to talk about me behind my back and screw with my private life, I have a right to know who."

He stares you down until you purse your lips and break. "Maya."

"Fucking hell," he says under his breath as he rubs at the lines in his forehead, and his lack of a denial has your head spinning.

"So it's true?"

"Y/N—"

"You haven't answered the question—"

"No!" He almost shouts it. "I don't."

"Because if you did have feelings for me, you could tell me. No secrets, right?"

He lets out a huff and stuffs his hands in his pockets, leveling his gaze back at you. "No," he says. Firmly. Definitively. "No, Y/N, I don’t have feelings for you."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. But something in your blood continues to tingle.

"Okay."

And really? You should've known. Should've trusted to get the truth from him and not secondhand from your friends who, though they mean well, have been known to meddle and gossip (and sure, maybe that includes yourself at times).

The heightened tension has dissipated from the room, but the two of you are still left looking awkwardly at each other. After a stretch of time, Taehyung shifts on his feet and asks, "Y/N, are we good?"

There's a hint of fear in his eyes, and it has any residual worry you're feeling melting away. This is still Tae. Your Tae.

"Of course we are." You link your pinky with his. "Always."

The beach bar is relatively crowded for a Thursday night, the warm summer air and mix of bodies driving your group to disperse around the venue. Some migrate towards the live band, while others choose to mingle (and flirt) with the other patrons.

Noticing the way one guy at the bar has been eyeing you since you got here, Taehyung sticks close to your side, just in case. That is, until Namjoon finds his way back to the two of you looking harried, drawing you in so he can gently rest his hands on your elbows.

“Y/N, can I borrow you?” His light smile and the way he leans in close are clearly meant to project the image of intimacy, but his eyes are desperately screaming for help. “There’s an intoxicated woman who seems determined to motorboat me, and I don’t know where Maya is. I need a fake girlfriend.”

You pretend to swoon. “Joonie, with a chest like that, I’d be honored to be your fake girlfriend.”

Something aches behind Taehyung’s ribs as he watches you walk away on Namjoon’s arm when he just got you talking to him again. Still, a bit of breathing room is probably for the best. His conversation with you has him rattled; he doesn’t think his pulse has fully returned to normal since you suggested he has feelings for you. At the very least, he was able to smooth things out, which has noticeably eased the weight he’s been carrying the past couple of weeks.

But speaking of your conversation, you being summoned away by Namjoon gives him the opportunity to address the other elephant in the room.

He scans the crowd, determinedly ignoring the woman who’s been trying to catch his eye from a few tables over. (She pouts in his peripheral vision, shifting the neckline of her shirt to sit lower on her chest.) Finally spotting his target making her way back from the bathroom, he quickly moves to intercept her before she can join you and Namjoon at the bar.

Maya startles as he tugs lightly on her arm, leading her to a quieter spot towards the edge of the beach before abruptly spinning to face her.

"What the fuck?"

"What?" she quirks an eyebrow as if in askance but her overall countenance says that she knows exactly what this conversation is going to be about.

"You know what."

"Maybe, but I want to hear you say it."

Taehyung takes a deep breath. He loves Maya like a sister, but that sibling relationship means that she often gets under his skin like one, too. "You told Y/N that I'm in love with her?"

Her other eyebrow joins the first one in climbing her forehead. "Are you?"

"No."

Maya scoffs. "I'm going to give you another chance to say that, but try to sound like you actually believe it this time."

"You had no right—"

"So you're not denying it now?"

"I said no."

"Okay, that time was better, but it could still use some work—"

"Maya, fuck!" He scrubs a hand over his face. "Don't do this."

"She needs to know! What did you tell her?"

“That I don’t—“

“I thought you two didn’t lie to each other.”

“I didn’t!”

“You’re full of shit, and you know it.”

He’d swear he can feel his eyelid twitch. Maya always seems to know which buttons to press to get a reaction out of him. "She's getting married, for fuck's sake!"

"No, she has a boyfriend with a ring box in his drawer."

"Same difference."

"It's not."

"It is."

"She hasn't said yes yet, Tae."

He goes quiet at that. It’s painfully reminiscent of his conversation with Namjoon, and yet he’s equally at a loss. What are they honestly expecting him to do here? What could he possibly do that would accomplish anything other than drive you away, and rightfully so?

Maya’s gaze rakes over his face, scrutinizing him with a mixture of frustration and pity. "Tell me it isn't killing you."

Taehyung licks his lips, looking out across the bar until he finds where you’re standing with Namjoon. The latter says something that makes you laugh, and his stomach flips watching the way your eyes twinkle with mirth as you toss your head back, hair spilling over your shoulders.

You’re radiant. Stunning.

"She's happy," he finally croaks, but it comes out like he's physically straining to push out the words. "Leave it the fuck alone."

“Hey.”

You find Taehyung in the kitchen bright and early the next morning, already rummaging around and littering the counters with bowls and ingredients. The soft morning light drenches him in a golden glow, highlighting his honey skin, the slope of his nose, the long lines of his fingers as he works.

“Hey!” The smile he gives you is light and easy, the awkwardness between you having evaporated as easy as steam after your discussion last night. “Want to help me make breakfast?”

You jump in, immediately falling into rhythm with the way he maneuvers around the kitchen. God, you’ve missed this. It may have only been a few weeks, but cooking with Taehyung is one of your life’s greatest joys, and after missing two of your meal prep nights, it feels like a part of you has come home. There’s no doubt that you’re breathing a little easier today with the air cleared between you.

And honestly, how stupid to let a single comment from Maya drive a wedge between the two of you. You’ve known Taehyung practically your whole life. If he did have feelings for you, you would’ve figured it out by now.

Surely, he would’ve told you.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t even notice that Taehyung is sneaking up on you until he’s already smeared a streak of waffle batter across your cheek.

“Augh, Tae!”

“What?” He quickly backpedals out of your reach, anticipating retaliation, but grinning widely. “You were clearly somewhere else. Had to bring you back to me somehow.”

A while later, as Taehyung sets out the platters of waffles, fruit, and eggs, you begin making the rounds to let everyone know that breakfast is ready. Sunny and her friends thank you from where they’re hanging out on the back deck and say that they’ll be in soon. Moving back into the hallway, you greet Hoseok and his brother, Jiho, as they pass you; Hoseok gives you an appreciative high five when you tell them about the food. Namjoon and Jimin have their door wide open, so you only need to poke your head in, Jimin immediately taking off down the hall at the mention of waffles.

When you get to Taehyung and Jungkook’s door, it’s closed, a series of muffled groans coming from inside. Unhesitating, you knock hard, and the groaning stops, followed by a curse and the sound of shuffling before Jungkook is opening the door halfway, blocking your view of the room. Clad in only a pair of gray joggers, a light sheen of sweat coats his bare chest, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Can I help you?”

“Tae and I made breakfast. You’re welcome to join.” You nod your chin at the area behind him. “Unless, you know, you have better things to do.”

Jungkook smirks, amused. “Alright, I’ll be out in a minute.”

He moves to close the door, but you manage to stick a foot out to block him.

“Maya, you too!”

There’s a moment of silence as you stand there, Jungkook looking as smug as ever, before a voice sounds from inside the room.

“Okay!”

It's a cloudless, sunny day so your group heads down to the beach after breakfast. Jungkook's beach house sits down the street, away from the center of town and tourist areas, which allows you a relatively private, uncrowded stretch of sand. The air is sticky with humidity, only mitigated by the breeze coming off the water. It's an oddly soothing combination of hot and cool that has you pulling in deep breaths of the salty air. You could stay out here forever.

"This is paradise," Hana says, verbalizing your own thoughts. "I wish I could live here."

You're sitting on your towel in the sand helping Maya sunscreen her back, but you don't miss the cocky grin on Jungkook's face.

"Well, pretty ladies like you are always welcome here."

Maya's shoulders tense up under your hands, and you're tempted to say something snarky in her defense before Sunny beats you there.

"Not my friends, Kook!"

Hana giggles, Jungkook feigns innocence, and you think that's that, stretching out on your towel to sunbathe. But an hour later, Taehyung is plopping down next to you in the sand.

"I need your help."

You slide your sunglasses to the top of your head so you can look at him better. "Sunny trying to set you up with someone again?"

He blushes. "No, Kook wants to have a chicken fight."

You push your glasses back down your face. "No."

Taehyung is quick, reaching over to pull the shades off your eyes entirely.

“Tae!”

“Look,” he murmurs, leaning in close. “Normally I’d blow him off, but he’s pairing up with Hana, and Maya actually seems kind of bothered.”

You peek over his shoulder to where Maya is now chatting with Jimin, throwing furtive glances at Jungkook and Hana flirting by the water’s edge.

“I know they’re not exclusive,” Taehyung continues, “but you have to admit Kook is being a bit of a dick, and I kind of want to show him up.”

You’re still hesitant, lips turning downwards, and so he presses closer, until all you can see are big brown eyes.

“Please? For me?”

The past two weeks creep into your mind, two weeks of intentionally avoiding him—hurting him—due to your own idiocy, and that’s when you cave. You owe him.

“Okay, fine.”

You follow Taehyung down to the shoreline, where Jungkook grins widely at your approach and claps his hands together.

"A challenger!"

You shake your head at his antics and move to tie your hair up and away from your face. "Do we have any stakes?"

Jungkook strikes a dramatic pose: calf-deep in water, hands on hips, six-pack abs already glistening as he pouts his lips in thought.

Then, with a snap of his fingers, he says, "Loser cooks dinner tomorrow."

Well, that's much tamer than you expected. "Just dinner? No, 'loser has to go skinny dipping' or anything like that?"

His mouth forms into a tiny "o", eyes wide with excitement. "Do you...want that?"

"No," you're quick to clarify. "It just doesn't seem like much of a punishment for us."

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. "I like your food."

"Okay, but what if we win?" Taehyung asks, nodding from your right.

The cocky grin is back. "You won't."

Seagulls circle above like curious spectators to your game as you get into position. Taehyung squats in the surf so you can scale his back, sliding your legs over his tanned shoulders. He wraps his arms and hands tightly around your knees to secure you as he walks deeper into the ocean until the water is up to his waist. Roughly ten feet across from you, Jungkook and Hana have assumed a similar stance, and you're not sure if it's the waves rolling in or if Jungkook is actively bouncing on his heels.

"Jimin, wanna count us off?" he shouts.

From his spot on the beach, you see Jimin cup his hands around his mouth.

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

The men charge at each other through the water until you and Hana collide, grappling at each other's arms. In spite of a tiny build, she's surprisingly strong and sturdy, and you already have to adjust yourself on top of Taehyung, who likewise rearranges his grip on your legs.

"You good?" he grunts from under you, and you assure him you're fine.

You change your tactic, moving to push at her shoulders and send her backwards, but Jungkook shifts his legs to keep the two of them balanced. This gives Hana the chance to bump you with an elbow, and Taehyung likewise has to tighten his hold on you again to keep you steady.

This back-and-forth goes on for a short while, your friends now cheering from the sidelines, until Jungkook pushes forward and Hana collides with you again. This time, Taehyung adjusts to the hit by sliding his hands upwards, his long fingers skating up the soft inner flesh of your thighs and digging in.

A flash of heat rushes straight to your belly.

The sensation forcefully jolts your entire body and sends both you and Taehyung tumbling into the water. You kick around trying to find your footing before he pulls you up, sopping wet and spluttering as Jungkook and Hana celebrate their victory with raised arms and whoops.

“Are you alright? What happened?”

Hell if you know. You’d swear you can still feel the pads of his fingers on your legs, and so you merely blink at him with a shake of your head.

A biological reaction, you tell yourself, as you wade your way back to dry land. Nothing more.

You will your body to get a grip as you settle back down on your towel. You love Jace, you’re taken, and you and Taehyung have just reestablished the platonic nature of your friendship. Letting his touch have that kind of effect on you is nothing short of wildly inappropriate on two counts.

Trying to shake the shame poking at your brain, you angle yourself towards the waves and snap a quick selfie to send off to your boyfriend.

You [2:05pm]: miss you so much, wish you were here <3

It’s not long before your phone chimes with a reply, and you open the message to see a picture of Jace taken at a similar angle. He stands in a sea of businessmen and conference booths, suit crisp and hair neatly combed. The smile he wears is bright, eyes crinkling in the way you love so much and setting of a flurry of butterflies in your belly.

J <3 [2:07pm]: i’d say i wish you were here but i wouldn’t wish this place on my worst enemy let alone my favorite girl lol

J <3 [2:07pm]: i miss you too, beautiful :(

By the time the sun starts its descent, you’ve all moved to the pool on the expansive back deck, Jungkook immediately hopping behind the outdoor bar to make drinks.

“You know,” you say from your perch atop one of the stools, “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who can match your enthusiasm for your job.”

He smiles, rattling a cocktail shaker. “It gets me booze and ladies. What more could I ask for?”

Yumi soon joins you at the bar top to ask Jungkook for a margarita, and is quick to strike up a conversation with you. Unsurprisingly for one of Sunny’s friends, she’s incredibly nice, and you learn she works as a hairdresser in the city.

“I’ll have to check out your salon!” you say. “I’ve been meaning to get a trim.”

She claps her hands together eagerly. “If you want to give me your number, I can text you the address!”

As you’re putting your contact information into her phone, she looks at you thoughtfully and adds, “Not to sound like I have an ulterior motive, but Sunny also mentioned that you’re going to be getting married soon, too?”

Heat creeps into your cheeks. “Ah, yeah, nothing official yet. But, you know, it seems like it’s coming.”

“Exciting!” she declares. “Just figured I’d let you know that I do weddings, too, in that case. And I know we’ve just met, but I’d still give you the friends discount. Sunny’s friends are my friends, as far as I’m concerned.”

“That’s so sweet of you. I’ll definitely give you a call to talk about it once we’re actually planning.”

“That sounds gre—“

“Sorry to interrupt.” Taehyung wanders up to where you sit, handing you a plate of steaming beef and cucumber salad. “Hoseok and Jimin got the first round of meats done. I knew you’d want it hot.”

The moan you let out as you take the plate from him is downright scandalous. “Ugh, you’re the best.”

You’re rewarded with a light chuckle and a signature boxy grin. “I know.”

As he heads back to the grill and you dig into your food, Yumi lets out a dreamy sigh. “It’s no wonder he’s planning to put a ring on your finger. I wish someone would look at me like that.”

A piece of food lodges itself in your throat, and you cough hard. Yumi stares at you in alarm until you regain your breath and turn to her with wide eyes. “Tae and I aren’t together.”

She looks back and forth between the two of you like she’s trying to solve a puzzle. “You’re not?”

“No.” You shake your head emphatically. “We grew up together. My boyfriend is at a work event.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaims. “I just noticed how close you were at the bar last night and how he’s always—“ She cuts herself off with a shake of her head. “Nevermind. That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

You assure her it’s fine, and she changes the subject, asking how you know the others and what college was like. Your chat carries on for a while longer before you excuse yourself to use the bathroom.

You don’t even make it halfway across the deck, though, before a tattooed arm is snaking across your waist, lifting you off your feet, and carrying you in the direction of the pool.

“Jeon Jungkook, don’t you fucking dare!” you screech, trying to wiggle yourself out of his grip to no avail.

All you hear behind you is a maniacal giggle before you’re tossed through the air and land in the water with a splash.

When you come up to the surface, pushing your wet hair out of your eyes, you find Jungkook cackling by the pool’s edge. You glare at him.

“Asshole!”

“C’mon, Y/N! It’s a tradition!” he laughs. “It’s not a beach house trip without—“ But he doesn’t get to finish that thought before Taehyung shoulders him hard in the back, propelling him into the water next to you.

You only give Jungkook a second to get his bearings before you’re hopping onto his back and trying to play wrestle him back under the water to the laughter of your friends. It’s hopeless really—Jungkook is basically a mountain of hard muscle that barely budges under your touch—but a few minutes of scrambling all over him with determination, and he eventually concedes and humors you by allowing you to dunk him below the surface.

It’s later, once you’ve clambered out of the pool and are toweling off on the deck when you hear him talking to Jiho behind you.

“He got you good. You didn’t even hear him coming, did you?” There’s a shuffle and a “Pow!” like Jiho is reenacting Taehyung’s takedown.

“Ah, it’s alright,” Jungkook laughs, no hint of a grudge in his voice. “I messed with his girl.”

Your party stretches on into the night until the sky has turned inky black, peppered with stars that shine intensely this far removed from the city. Almost ironically, your group has mellowed out as the alcohol has flowed, settling into smaller groups scattered around the deck. Namjoon sits with Hoseok and Jiho, clearly getting philosophical around the fire pit. Sunny is gathered to the side with her friends as they sloppily braid each other’s hair, the occasional burst of laughter coming from their general vicinity. Jimin lays on his back at the side of the pool, drunkenly tracing constellations with his finger. And Maya and Jungkook are nowhere to be found.

There’s a sense of peace that flows through your veins as you watch your friends smile and talk while you grab yourself a beer from the poolside bar. You’ve always loved coming here. Sure, getting a free stay at a waterfront mansion is nothing you’d ever say no to, but it’s really getting to spend quality time with your friends—away from all of your real world responsibilities—that makes this place feel almost magical.

You look out to the shoreline and spot a figure sitting alone on the beach, staring out at the waves. You’d been thinking about joining Namjoon’s group by the fire, but that plan is immediately pushed out of mind as you grab a second bottle and make your way towards the sea.

You’re not loud in your stroll, the soft sand muting your steps, but Taehyung seems to sense your approach anyway, not startling a bit as you seat yourself next to him and hand him a beer.

“Contemplating the wonders of the universe?” you ask. From this angle, he looks almost like he did in Maya’s photograph of him—the same constellations in his eyes.

Taehyung stretches his legs out with a sigh, leaning back on his palms. “Where do you think we’ll be this time next year?”

You sip at your drink. Honestly, you can’t imagine things being all that different.

“Right back here?” you say. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of coming here. This is my ultimate happy place.”

Taehyung hums in agreement. “It could be your pre-wedding party we’ll be having next year.”

“You think?”

His brow furrows at your doubt. “I’d expect you’d at least be planning then, no? Or you could already be married by then if you guys want to move fast.”

The thought sends jitters running down your spine. “Who knows?” you challenge. “Maybe you’ll be the one married. Maybe you’ll meet your soulmate tomorrow and elope because you know it’s fate, and there’s no point in waiting.”

Taehyung barks out a laugh. “That sounds somewhat out-of-character, no?”

“Hmm, true. You’re more of a wait five years to move in and another five years to propose kind of guy. Work on your credit score and establish a detailed financial plan before even thinking about merging assets. And don’t even get me started on the background check.”

“Geez, Y/N. Does Jace know you just casually talk dirty to other guys like this?”

You playfully shove at his shoulder, and the pink of his tongue pokes through his teeth as he laughs.

“Oh, wow, look.”

Taehyung points a delicate finger as a tiny flash blazes through the sky, trailing light and stardust in its wake. He turns to you, smiling.

“Make a wish?”

The words come out on a whisper like a secret meant just for the two of you.

As you sit there, gazing out at the shadowy horizon in the distance, you feel perfectly content. What do you wish for when you feel like you already have the world? Work has been going great, and after almost a year of unpacking boxes and rearranging furniture, you feel like you and Jace are finally settled in and cozy at your apartment. You think about Jace—his smile, the soothing feel of his hands on your skin, the little black box in his desk—and contemplate all of the joy you can sense coming your way.

And then you consider the man beside you.

His eyes are closed as he meditates on his own wish, his legs now drawn up so he can rest his forearms on his knees. It flashes you back to when you were kids, lounging away the hours in your room or hanging at your favorite spots around town—the park, the library, the ice cream shop where Mrs. Kang would often take pity and treat the two of you to free cones. When you were young, Taehyung almost always sat like this, knees to his chest as if he was trying to make himself smaller. As if he could make himself invisible to the shadows that followed him every second of each day.

Taehyung’s always been a positive person, steadfastly determined to not let his demons poison his perspective of the world. Though neither of you were fond of explicitly discussing your situations, Taehyung always maintained a bright outlook on the rare occasions when your frustrations would spill over. There’s still the family we can choose, he’d tell you. We’ll find them one day.

Still, though, you could always sense a certain anxiety lingering under the mask of his smile. It showed itself in the way he’d sit with his arms around his knees, in the way his forehead would crease during the moments when you’d catch him lost in thought. This had eased up in college, the change in scenery and your newfound friends loosening his bones and laugh lines. But since graduation, you’ve seen some of that tension return to his shoulders like he’s carrying extra weight, especially in the past year.

You consider the man beside you, and you think, then, that he deserves the world, too.

I wish for Taehyung to have everything he wants. You squeeze your eyes shut, casting the thought out to the universe with everything you have. Every last desire of his heart. He deserves it all.

No one in the world would be more deserving. Of that, you’re sure.

When you open your eyes again, he’s watching you with an unreadable expression on his face.

“What did you wish for?” is all you can think to ask, blinking at him.

“Well if I tell you, then it won’t come true.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head with a teasing scoff. He smiles.

“Happiness,” he declares. “If I had to put it simply.”

You smile back at him, hoping those stars stay in his eyes. “Yeah, me too.”

He’ll find it. You know he will.

It's Sunday morning when shit hits the fan.

After Saturday passes with ease, another lazy day by the pool punctuated with you and Taehyung collaborating on a fried chicken dinner as per your bet with Jungkook, you wake up on Sunday to the sound of Iseul's squeals over there being no hot water, a fact which is soon confirmed after the men team up to check the heater. Jungkook calls his family handyman (apparently those come standard when you have more houses than you can count on one hand), but the man is quick to inform him that he's getting ready for his granddaughter's birthday party and won't be able to come out until tomorrow.

"There's no way I'm making it through the day without a hot shower," Maya grumbles.

Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows. "I can show you a hot shower.”

She doesn't even look at him.

You're also not enthused about the prospect of having to either take a cold shower or skip one entirely. So when Maya suggests going home a day early, you're already leaning towards the idea as well.

"It won't be that bad," Taehyung says, lips turning down in a tiny pout when you tell him. "The key is to just go fast."

"I'd rather not have to do it at all." You giggle as his pout deepens. "We're going to stay until the evening. It's only like a twelve hour difference."

"But I thought we were going to do a movie night."

Okay, now you feel bad.

"Temporary reschedule?" you suggest, poking at his bottom lip. "Jace and I are going to dinner on Saturday, but my Friday night is free."

A hand rubs at his chin as he pretends to make a show out of pondering your offer. "Deal."

Later, you're sitting on a chaise lounge on the back deck, soaking up your last few hours of sun with one of Jungkook's signature cocktails in your hand when Maya sighs deeply beside you in a similar show of disappointment.

"It really is a shame though," she laments. "Tonight was supposed to be our big send-off, and now I cleared my schedule tomorrow for nothing."

"We could do a girls night?" you say. "I have this new cab sav I found the other week that we could split."

"Ooh, twist my arm."

Plans made, you pull out your phone. Jace has been texting you on and off from his conference all weekend—just brief check-ins and I miss yous—so you shoot him a quick message now.

You [4:53pm]: the water heater here is busted so i'll be home early tonight. maya is going to come too, might stay over. can't wait to see you <3

The sky is a misty orange when you pack the car and say goodbye to your friends, Taehyung giving you a particularly tight hug. Things were great between you for the rest of the weekend, but you can feel the tension of your conversation lingering in the way he holds you that extra second.

You check your phone as Maya settles into the passenger seat and buckles her seat belt. There's still been no word from Jace. It's not particularly unusual for him to forget to answer his phone—especially since you expect he's busy wrapping up the conference—but a seed of worry still plants itself in the back of your brain. You hope everything is alright.

The ride is mostly quiet, you and Maya occasionally singing along to a song on the radio as the evening gradually turns to night. But about halfway back home, you feel the need to straighten things out.

“So I talked to Tae.”

She’s quiet for a second, her face shrouded in shadow. “Uh-huh.”

“He said he doesn’t have feelings for me.”

Maya shifts in her seat, angling herself towards you ever so slightly. “And you believe him?”

“Yes. Definitely.”  There’s no doubt in your mind. “He’s never given me a reason not to.”

Silence stretches itself between you, Maya entirely unreadable as she seems to be puzzling something out in her head.

“Okay.”

It comes as a surprise, and you jerk your eyes away from the road to glance over at her. “Okay?”

Maya shrugs. “Okay.”

“That’s it?”

“Do you want there to be more?”

You work your mouth in a stunned gape. Because she’s right; why are you pushing this?

“No. We’re good.”

When you get to your apartment, you swipe you and Maya into the building and head towards the elevators. You’re a little bummed that your time at the beach house had to be cut short, but you take solace in the fact that you get some time back with Jace.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Maya asks on the ride up.

You grin. “We could play that Twilight drinking game I sent you.”

“Pfft, I know I said I have tomorrow off, but I meant I could handle a mild hangover, not alcohol poisoning.”

You fumble for your key at your apartment door, sliding it into the lock and pushing the door open. The first thing you notice is that the lights are on, so Jace must be home.

“Babe?” you call, as you and Maya dump your bags by the couch.

“Where’s that cab sav?” You nod in the direction of the kitchen, and Maya skips over to investigate.

A moan sounds through the apartment.

You and Maya both freeze, staring at each other. Goosebumps break out over your entire body, a frightening sense of impending doom slamming itself down on your consciousness.

A second moan, and now you notice the lights on under the closed door of your bedroom. There was no sign of forced entry, but the image of a wounded and bleeding Jace pushes itself to the forefront of your mind.

You rush to the bedroom door, fearing the worse.

“Jace?”

You swing it open.

And your entire world collapses.

Taehyung can’t quite shake the feeling that you’re slipping through his fingers.

Movie night had been his idea, a way to get you in one spot (and mostly to himself, if he’s being honest) after your two weeks of silence. Now knowing the reason behind your push for space, he doesn’t blame you at all. Maya throwing that wrench into your relationship was surely unsettling, and he understands wanting time alone. But he’s missed you; he’s not going to deny that. And he’s desperate to prove that things can be okay between you. Things can be normal.

But the universe, it seems, is stacked against him.

He’s ambling through the house, wondering if Jimin might be up for a game of ping pong in the downstairs game room, when his phone blares in his pocket. It’s a jarring sound, violent in the way it disrupts the calmness of the house, and Taehyung frowns when he sees Maya’s name on the screen.

Maya never calls.

“Hello?”

“Tae, oh thank God.” Her voice is high and tight—clearly in distress. “You need to come to Y/N’s apartment as soon as physically possible. Grab Jimin and Kook if you need to drive them back—whatever. But just—as soon as possible.”

“Wait, wait, slow down,” he urges, hairs standing at attention on the back of his neck. “What’s going on? Is everyone okay? Is Y/N okay?”

“We got back to the apartment, and Jace he…”

Time seems to slow in anticipation of Maya’s next words—the kind of eerie stillness that precedes a storm, quiet and disarming in its disguise.

And then she drops the bomb.

“He was with someone else.”

Taehyung’s ears ring. There is no possible way he heard that right. “What?”

The breath that comes from the other side of the phone is heavy, like Maya can’t even believe the words coming out of her own mouth. “He was in bed with someone else.”

A chill drips down his spine, pushing its way through his veins until his entire body runs cold. This can’t be happening. Not to you. You’ve had enough pain and hardship in your twenty-five years of life—he’s seen it, weathered it with you. Things are supposed to be getting better; this is supposed to be the payout for years of heartache. Surely, the universe wouldn’t be so cruel.

But then it happens. A single, anguished sob rings out in the background of the call, sharp and pained in its grief.

His heart shatters, shards piercing the spaces between his ribs.

“Tae? Are you still there?”

“Yes.”

“She needs you. Please just get over here.”

Then line goes dead.

Taehyung is only frozen for a second longer before he’s bounding into motion, tearing down the hallway and into the living room where Jimin lays on his back on the couch. The latter shoots into a sitting position when he sees the look on Taehyung’s face.

“You okay?”

“Y/N—she—we—“ His mouth feels like it’s filled with sand, and while he stands there, working his jaw in agonizing frustration, Jimin leaps to his feet to close the distance between them, grasping Taehyung’s shoulders.

“What’s wrong? What happened to Y/N?”

His lungs burn as he finally finds the words. “Jace is cheating on her.”

Jimin goes still, the same stunned shock registering in his body.

“We need to—we need to go,” Taehyung gasps, and Jimin is quick to sit him on the couch.

“I’ll get Kook. We’ll take care of this,” he says, voice steady. Commanding. “You just wait here and breathe.”

The next several minutes are a blur as Jimin rushes to get Jungkook, and they work on packing the car, briefly explaining the situation to the others. Taehyung can’t think of anything but you, his focus reduced down to a pinpoint in his mind. You must be devastated. In spite of what he had said about his own feelings on Jace, he knows how much you love him, how you were expecting to spend the rest of your life with him. How must you be feeling to have an entire future ripped away? To have to bear witness to and suffer that kind of betrayal?

He’s not quite sure how it happens, but he winds up in the passenger seat of his own car, Jimin sliding behind the wheel and peeling away from the house and onto the highway. The air inside the cabin is thick, a stifling combination of premature summer heat and heavy silence, with even Jungkook sitting oddly quiet in the backseat. Taehyung is thankful for the absence of conversation; he doesn’t think he can handle talking about any of this until you’re in front of him and he can hold you, feel that you’re safe.

He realizes somewhere along the way that he’s shaking, your cry still ringing in his ears.

The trip from the beach house to the city only takes about forty-five minutes, but it feels like days, headlights and street lamps zipping by like tiny suns as Taehyung wills the car to go faster, faster, faster. He’s never felt further from you before, never been so determined to close the distance between you like he is now.

Whatever you need from him, he’ll give it.

Jimin finally pulls into your apartment parking lot, and the car hasn't even fully stopped before Taehyung is bolting out at a near sprint. Jungkook and Jimin catch up to him as he pulls out the duplicate access card you had given him in case of emergencies, swiping them into the entryway and down the hall where he pounds the button for the elevators.

"It'll be okay," Jimin says, staring Taehyung down where he seems to be vibrating in his shoes. "She'll be okay."

"She'd better be," Jungkook mutters, fists clenched tight.

(Jimin hopes Jace has long cleared out of the building, lest they run into him.)

The elevator ride is tense and slow, the numbers ticking upwards in time with the pounding in Taehyung's ears.

2...

The bastard was sleeping with someone else.

3...

You thought you were going to marry him.

4...

He'd spent time with Jace all through college. Even laughed with him at times.

5...

The sound you'd made on the phone, like you were physically wounded.

6...

If he ever sees that piece of shit again—

7.

The doors open with a ding that snaps the mess of Taehyung's thoughts into focus.

He's here. You need him.

It's a brisk walk to the end of the hallway, and then he's practically punching your apartment door, which swings open almost immediately as if Maya was waiting on the other side. She and Taehyung stare at each other for a brief moment, her mouth stretched into a tight line before she simply nods her head in the direction of the bathroom. Taehyung makes the final leg of the trip in five long strides before freezing in the doorway.

The fractured shards of his heart turn to dust.

You're curled up on the bathroom floor, a tangle of arms and hair covering your face as your body trembles with quiet sobs. They echo around the tile, filling the space between you until Taehyung thinks he can feel the sound burrowing itself under his skin, a morbid tattoo he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to erase. This image, he thinks, will surely haunt him for the rest of his life.

You. Completely and utterly broken.

He falls to his knees so he can brush your hair aside, the strands draping themselves over his fingers like a tether. Your face is red and stained with tears, and he reflexively wipes at the ones he sees rolling down your cheeks as you peer up at him, only now registering his presence.

"T-tae?"

"I'm here," he murmurs as his hands continue collect your tears, trying to carry them for you.

When you hear his voice, your cries start up again in earnest, and you reach out to clutch at his shirt. Taehyung immediately gathers you into his arms and tucks you into the haven of his chest, holding you like if he squeezes hard enough, he can press your broken pieces back together.

"T-tae...h-he..." you gasp at his collarbone, words failing you as Taehyung hugs you to him even tighter.

He runs his hands through your hair, presses kisses to the crown of your head, trails his fingers up the length of your back as you burrow into him, wails escalating.

"Shh, I've got you, baby."

He does. He'll hold you forever if he has to.

"I've got you."

NEXT

a/n: thoughts? guesses as to what taehyung used his wish on? likes, reblogs, and feedback give me life :)

taglist is open!

a/n 2: oh, fun fact. when jace caught oc going through his desk in part 1, he wasn’t even thinking about the ring box when his eyes flicked to the drawer. he was worried she was going to find the condoms, which would’ve been weird since they hadn’t used them in like two years (oof) (this isn’t plot relevant, just a detail tidbit lol)

[eddiediazismyhusband]

I think part of the problem I have (and this may be an unpopular opinion) is all the hopes and opinions and ideas people (fans) have about the new season. And I don’t just mean things like the “mustache = obvious gay Eddie” that’s happening. But thoughts on Bobby, his and Athena’s living situation, Gerrard as captain, let alone Buck, Eddie, and others.

I know a lot of spec is just for fun, but some people take it quite serious. And I know I’m newer to this fandom but sometimes I read serious takes and go “….but that would never actually happen?! I know many of us don’t trust Tim and the writers but realistically that would never be a storyline on a tv show.…that’s a fanfic.”

So I can’t blame you for your pessimism or want to avoid spec. I hope we don’t get a lot of bts stuff either too, because I feel like fans will be trying to (over)analyze everything to figure things out. Only to likely be disappointed because I don’t trust these writers to write/do anything half as creative, original or logical as fans come up with. Expectation is the enemy and I’m afraid a lot of fans have theirs set too high for this season already

anon i have disgraced you by leaving this burried in the inbox and i feel awful 😭😭

i think fandom in general (and i mean any fandom not just 9-1-1) have this tendency to blur the line between cautious optimism/spec and actually convincing themselves of something happening…

i think a lot of people (and if you are one of these people this is NOT a dig at you) still want to have faith that the writers are actually going somewhere with the story, and they do so by speculating and putting actual thought into what the overarching storyline could be but unfortunately after 6 seasons of waiting, i’m getting tired of the whole thing being dragged out.

it’s no longer a will they/won’t they between the characters for me because multiple times they’ve reached the point where they don’t need anymore of that build; the only will they/won’t they is in terms of the writing team actually going somewhere rather than continuing to bait us

i have no issue with spec/theorizing (i may not wanna see it but i just filter out the spec tags) but my issue lies with some of the more popular buddie blogs having this whole “i can sense that buddie is happening” and then treating people who are validly apprehensive towards getting our hopes up like we’re brainless idiots who don’t know what we’re talking about

even though we literally went through the same thing of buddieblr being like “s7 is our year i can FEEL it there is no way they aren’t going canon”….. just for them to not go canon bc the writers (yet again) changed their minds last minute when they got an early renewal and realized “oh- we don’t actually have to commit anymore, we can just keep baiting snd dragging them along— and they technically can’t call it queerbaiting anymore bc buck’s bi now!”

like everything surrounding this season has been screaming to me (NOT anything from oliver and ryan— ive spoken before about how i think they are where we’re at in terms of being strung along by the writers every season) that we are just being baited again.

and as far as the over-analyzing, i’ve seen so many people saying things like “omg oliver and ryan posting candids/photos and tagging each other buddie is obviously happening”……. as if oliver and ryan aren’t friends…. like i fear the two of them posting eacg other doesn’t really mean much if anything when they’ve done that throughout their friendship.

and just because there are some deranged people on the internet spewing hate about them being friends doesn’t mean that their posting is a sign of anything either other than the fact that they’re probably blocking the lunatics and posting each other anyway…. it’s not some gotcha to anyone in the fandom, it’s not a sign that buddie is coming, it’s two castmates being friends, and doing things that friends do all the time

overall, like i said, i have no problem with people (other than myself) engaging in spec and at this point the people who are getting their hopes up will only have themselves to blame if we’re let down again… my issue mainly lies with some of the bigger blogs being dicks to people raising valid concerns over the new season and not trusting the writers when the writers haven’t done anything to earn that trust; in fact having only done things to the detriment of that trust.

anyway, sorry for the super delayed and super long response, anon 😭😭 i’ve been neglecting my ask box lately in lieu of a spike in temu stans sending me hate yet again but i was just scrolling through and noticed this one and wanted to make a response!

[irisbleufic]

i’m so new to your dm fic and i can’t fathom the sheer volume of work you’ve put out! it’s amazing and i’ve so many questions for you!!! how was the writing process for caldera? did you have everything written before posting? was it ever daunting just how much you figured you could write for these two??? i see you’re a novelist so this may be light work for you, but as someone whose never written over 40k at once, would you have any advice for writers who want to write something as long as your series one day? thank you so much for sharing your fic! it’s wonderful :’3

Hi there, anon! Thanks for giving me a fantastic ask to focus on between fits of grading and writing on this rainy, rainy afternoon. I'd be glad to answer your questions here; I'm so happy to hear you're enjoying the stories across my Devil's Minion series. It's been an absolute thrill to write so far, and it continues to be.

The writing process for Caldera is ongoing. I didn't have everything written before posting; I never write that far ahead even if I have a mental outline or a running file where I dump broader series plot-related notes. Over the years, I've developed an incredibly compulsive average daily writing quota. The rule is that I can spend that time on whatever kind of writing I'd like, and when I'm between projects for publication? That is always, always fanfiction. So, I manage to clock about 2k words on low-output days and 4k-ish on high output days. In a fanfiction context, 2k-4k is, for me, the average length of a fic chapter. Between that and my baseline unusual hyperfocus for writing in particular, that's how I'm able to manage those daily updates (and, if not daily, certainly every other day or every couple; at the moment, the main reason for those rare gaps has been shaky health).

It used to be daunting to me, when I was a younger writer, when I started to realize how ambitious my plot arcs for fandom writing series were turning out to be. The first fandom series project that reached around 200,000 words was my last year as an undergrad, and that was almost 20 years ago. I'm right around 40 now, so to say that I've spent literally half my life working out what I can do and what I can't do is no understatement. Spend enough years persistently writing, fuck-ups and all, and you will eventually get to the point where you can say, all right, this pairing, this fandom, this is going to be a long-haul for me. I have a lot I'd like to do with it, so let's buckle in and see what happens. I realize that not all writers get to this point; it's different for everyone. But many writers who write daily for years on end will usually find that whatever once daunted them, whatever that happens to be, no longer daunts them. And that's when you can really, really start to have fun. It's still work, but it doesn't feel like work anymore, if that makes sense.

My advice to you would be: take a look at where you are right now. How many years have you been writing? If not years, then how many months? What are your writing patterns? Do you manage to write daily, weekly, bi-weekly, monthly? If so, start charting these finer details. Get a handle on how often you tend to write, or how often you can find the time to do so. How much do you manage to write in a session? How many sessions does it take you to reach a completed project of 40k? If you can start to understand what your patterns are (look, I'm deeply Autistic about this whole process, but I suspect you'd gathered that by now), then you can start to assess what you have the potential to accomplish. You can start setting concrete goals for what you'd like to accomplish. If you're not sure how to break an ambitious series arc for which you don't yet have all the details down into beats, maybe just start with the first quarter of it. Gauge how many stories you'll need to get that far. Then, once you've reached that point, do a continuity re-read and reassess. My method is a combination of organization and fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants, although I admit that I can get by on pantsing alone if I really want to. You start thinking on your feet; you start writing reactively to your own content. And experience will make this easier.

I hope that some of this resonates with you, and if it doesn't resonate, at bare minimum I hope it makes sense. I wasn't the kind of kid anybody ever expected to become a writer. Nobody thought it would be possible. A lot of things weren't supposed to be possible for me. But I stubbornly latched onto something I learned that I loved; stubbornness and love can get you farther than you'd think. Be stubborn, and just...love them. Love the characters and the worlds you find in your hands. That's why most of us end up in fandom in the first place. So many kinds of love in the world fail us, but loving the imaginary lets us create even when other forms of love do not. Sappy as it sounds, that's a literal miracle.

[zeddimusprime]

Trans Man Noah Diaz

The first time I saw Rise of the Beasts, I read Noah as a Trans Man, and that headcanon just solidified after my second viewing.

I’ll get the heavy reasons out of the way first, and work down to the most silly ones.

The section that was here before has been removed, because I was overstepping and someone rightly called me out on it. However. I’m not going to lie and pretend I didn’t do what I did. I deleted the comment that called me out because it made me feel bad, I panicked, and deleted it to save my own ego. It was wrong, it was cowardly, it was fucked up, and I shouldn’t have done it.

I truly am sorry, and have spent the last day sitting with myself until I stopped trying to excuse my behavior and just acknowledged what I did. I am not asking for forgiveness, I can only try going forward to be the kind of person deserving of it.

For now, I’m taking a break from this blog, leaving it on a queue, and I won’t be posting here for a while. Even though that isn’t the kind of person I want to be, I need to reckon with the fact that that is the kind of person I am. I’m sorry, once again.

1994 was also the year Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was put into place, which, for those too young to remember, was basically a policy allowing queer and trans people to serve in the military so long as they remained closeted, and prohibited superiors from forcibly outing them. Given that we’re never actually told in the film why Noah was discharged, it’s not unreasonable to think that it may have been because he got found out as trans.

The part that’s particularly personal for me is his relationship with Kris. I’ve also got a little brother that’s quite a bit younger than me, and I acted as an extra parent to him, practically raised him since we were both latchkey kids, and yeah, there’s no doubt in my mind that I’d face the apocalypse head on if it meant keeping him safe. All that to say, it’s comforting to think that Noah’s identity as a man is inseparable from his identity as a Big Brother, the way it is for me.

Most of my other reasons are less serious:

Noah wears a lot of layers and baggy clothes on his upper half, which yes, was part of 90s fashion, but it’s also how I dressed for most of my life, even before I realized I was trans.

Noah is also non-toxically masculine in a way that’s not unheard of but also not as common for men, especially service members, of that time period. Again, there may very well be a cultural component I’m missing here, let me know if there is, but this is just something I related to as a Guy Who Wasn’t Raised As One.

This last one’s kinda silly, but I’m a Car Guy, and one of the most gender euphoria inducing things I can do is work on my car. There’s few things that make me feel like Man quite like sweat on my brow and grease on my hands and a purring engine from a job well done. So for Noah to not only be a tech wiz but specifically a Mechanic? That was the thing that really sold me on this headcanon. (And that’s not even getting into the very fun implications of Noah being the one to repair Mirage, to get to know him so intimately, literally inside and out. Very nice.)

(I also love the idea that rather than being weirded out or taken aback at first like he is in some fics, Noah would be kinda weirdly affirmed to find out that not only does Mirage have some of roughly the same *equipment* while still being treated as and being a Mech, but his setup is the norm for Cybertronians. I can so picture Noah anxiously telling Mirage about his situation when they finally get together only for Mirage to be like “you mean other human mechs don’t have a 🐈??? Like, most humans only have one or the other?????”)

[slusheeduck]

Champion

No one ever told you what happened to daedric champions after their task.

With good reason, of course, because for the most part, they just didn’t survive it. The forces of good would often triumph, typically with aedric glory. But, more often, it was because the average daedric champion was an idiot. They get one taste, one tiny taste, of power gifted by their patron, and suddenly they’re beset with visions of godhood and total dominion over all, including the powers of Oblivion. And then, on top of that, they have the audacity to be shocked when their Prince throws them out like the bad apple they are.

Taranil, however, had not been an idiot. He had not been stupid enough to believe that he was better than she who literally toyed with the strings of fate. And, while he’d thrown out a lot of his noble upbringing to survive the most hellish year of his life, he’d held on to the fact that gratitude was a must–especially when dealing with someone more powerful than you. It wasn’t lip service, of course; he was genuinely devoted, obsessively devoted to her. After all, she was the reason he was alive at all. 

“You silly boy, you didn’t even ask for a boon! You did all this yourself. Color me impressed.”

“I didn’t need one. You’ve already given me what I asked for, and I offered my service in return.”

The temple, squirreled away underground where it couldn’t be found by those who didn’t know of it, lay in ruins as he picked his way back to a familiar grotto. Abandoned for years now, the altars remained–subjects waiting for new fools to come up to them and bargain their way into Oblivion. He knelt in front of the one he sought, still humble, still obedient. Invisible hands roamed over him–grazing his scarred cheek, down his back, over his thighs, and one wrapping a strand of bright silver hair around a clawed finger.

“Still. You could have asked for something if you wanted it. Unmatched power…”

“I’ve never been good with magic.”

“Unparalleled influence…”

“I won that myself.”

“Not even an artifact!”

“It would have ruined the plot. It would have given me away before it was time.”

“Oh, Taranil. You are such a funny thing. I suppose that’s why I like you enough to name you my Champion. Well, then I suppose the best boon I can give you now is your freedom.”

“What? But…but you must have more need of me. You must have more tasks that need doing. Please, I offered my service.”

“And I may have need of it in the future. But for now? You wanted your freedom and your fortune. You can have it now. Go, live. Enjoy what you did actually ask for.”

“No! No, I…” But the hands were gone, and so was she.

There really isn’t a rush that matches being named Champion, especially when it’s given by someone like her. Before his bargain, before the bite, before Vvardenfell, Taranil had always seen himself as a stupid, pretty thing, because that’s all anyone had ever seen him as. 

But not her.

She called him clever. She called him beautiful. She made him stronger, made him ruthless, made sense of all the threads he’d seen–connections, betrayals, love and hate and convenience–and taught him how to weave them together and snap them in half. What boon had he ever needed? She’d unlocked his potential, and that was more than a gift than any title or estate could be.

And what highs, what spectacular highs, came with a purpose like this. Carrying out the will of his Prince, using what she had taught him to bind and cut and weave the threads of this silly cult together to serve his purpose. How satisfying to see their priestess, so hubristic in her position, crumble as she realized what he was, what he’d done, and how powerless she was to stop the stitches being ripped out in front of her. 

“How awful that this is how we meet again, Lor–Kinlord. My deepest condolences.”

“Very kind of you, cerum.”

“To be killed so viciously…and right before you came back from your wretched year abroad. You must be devastated.”

It had been so quick. The return home, and the immediate disowning. As if it had been his fault he’d been shipped away to Vvardenfell. One look at his parents had confirmed his worst fears: they had wished he was dead.

“Yes, well. You know as well as I that they never strayed from the path of Alaxon. I imagine in some ways, death must have been a relief. Imagine, getting to finally reach Aetherius. It’s the culmination of praxis, isn’t it?”

“Beautifully put, Kinlord.”

He’d gotten his mother first. There was a savage satisfaction as his teeth tore into her throat, finally silencing every sharp word, every disparaging hiss, every curse toward him and the gods that of all the children to be stuck with, she had him. As she fell back in her seat, blood seeped into the golden hair she’d been so proud of–he laughed, despite himself. After years of hating his red hair, she was stuck with it in her last moments.

His father had tried fighting back, but all it earned was sharp claws tearing into his chest. A black eye had been his parting gift to Taranil a year before; tradition said that the gift brought home should be twice as valuable, after all. And it certainly was–at least to him.

And just like that, the Caemorin family had a new Kinlord.

He’d expected to die. He’d wanted to die. How wonderful, how noble an end, to die in service to his beloved Prince. And, he was frightened, of course. He wasn’t immune to begging her to spare his life as his own thread came dangerously close to snapping. But he knew how these things always ended. Someone would strike down the Champion and save the day. 

But no one did. He lived. And now, he had to endure the agony of it. He’d known Mephala was one of the crueler Princes, but this? This was more than any mortal–or a rough approximation of one, anyway–should be forced to bear. 

Go, live, she had told him. It was nearly enough to make him hate her. Talking about treaties, going to soirees, managing books–this wasn’t living. Living was dancing along the razor’s edge. Living was frantically stitching a plot as dozens of hands tried to unravel it. Living was standing among the rubble of a powerful cult and knowing every toppled wall and mangled corpse had his hand to blame. 

All the money, all the prestige, all the sex and skooma and drink and blood in the world couldn’t match that high, not even remotely.

“Kinlord?”

Taranil was brought out of his reverie by a knock on his office door. He turned to see his chatelaine, a serious-faced, grey-furred Khajiit, poke her face in.

“Yes, Zirithi?”

“This one would just like to remind you that Kinlady Avinisse will be here to discuss borders. Again.” She rolled her eyes. “Zirithi would typically suggest an escape plan, but…”

“But I’ve already delayed this three times,” Taranil said with a sigh. He waved his hand. “I’ll be ready. Just give me a bit of warning once she’s here.”

Zirithi nodded, slipping back out. Taranil gave a long sigh, then turned to look out the window again.

He thought he’d been clever, managing to survive Mephala’s task to get his reward. Now, he realized, he was her most foolish champion yet. No reward was worth an existence like this.

[duffmckagans]

hi kelsey! I just wanted to say how excited I am about your rewrite—i’ve been quietly following your blog for years, and it always stood out to me as such a thoughtful and welcoming space. i used to admire how eloquent and in-depth you were when answering asks, no matter how small or random the question was. you always made it feel like every question mattered, and that was something really special.

your blog was honestly a kind of safe space for me, and I’m so excited to see this little community come alive again. there’s just something about the way you write, both in your stories and in your interactions, that feels so genuine and warm. i can’t wait to see what’s in store and to get swept up in everything again—it’s like getting to revisit something comforting but also excitingly new.

thank you for all the work and love you pour into this space. It means more than you probably realize!

hi, anon! this is so sweet omg, this actually made my day. i'm excited you're excited! i spontaneously began rewriting at the end of october, sort of thinking it'd just be something for myself, until i realized there really wasn't much fun to be had in tackling a project with no publishing potential all by myself, so i just had to share it with everybody again 🩷 also, i was lowkey getting depressed doing nothing but work/studying without having people in my phone to talk to, so ... here we are! i'm so glad you're reaching out! it always really excites me when people introduce themselves as silent readers/supporters because they're absolutely integral to the fan space, but they're also some of the most exciting people to hear from. it means a lot to know i've created something worth reaching out over. i said this all the time when i used to post, but the best part of writing to me was putting out stuff that made people feel one way or another.

it also means a lot that you find me eloquent! i used to think i rambled too much, i still think i do, but i would sometimes get very caught up in my awe and appreciation of the fact that people cared about my universe and the characters so much. every question truly did matter to me, and still does!! a piece of me frequently regrets wiping the old stuff, but the other piece of me really likes having this new leaf now that we're starting over again. this blog was also definitely my safe space on the internet, and my best friend (whom i literally just texted with about this earlier today) can vouch for the fact that not really being active here or writing what i used to was difficult for me. it was a constant of my life for, what? like three and a half years, so going from having this blog to check up on every day for that long to nothing at all was saddening, and then just eventually boring once life got so work-life-balance. a part of me knows we may never see the sort of interaction and readership seen at the peak of MS/WT, but another part of me is just really excited to see what this new version conjures up. like, sure, it's the same story, but if you've already read it before, then reading the rewrite may give new perspectives, and if you're a new reader, then there's a whole new world there. i feel silly saying this when it really does start out like a lot of cliché rockstar fanfics so it might not seem like anything special, but 🤍 people were patient enough to hold on for the complexity. this sort of feels like memory lane but with the faint excitement that comes from the fact that there will be little changes here and there and i get to wait and see who picks up on them.

so thank you for this!! it really does mean a lot! everybody here is my friend regardless of if they read or interact with me, and i hope that everybody considers me the same. i know that when i got involved in fanspaces with things that i didn't write for, i would feel so intimidated by my fave authors (literally screamed the day my fave fanfic writer from my hp days (who is a published author now, hiiii olivie blake) sent me a happy birthday wish), because i thought they were so talented and cool and practically untouchable, so. i don't want anybody to feel that way about me. one, because i'm not that cool and the talent is average (worked on for like 5 years now), and two, because i don't bite! it's way more fun to have things done in a conversational, intimate way than it is to have things feel distant. so i'm VERY excited to be back, and i'm VERY excited to give people things to look forward to and a place to come around and hang out!!

[loserscanwritetoo]

Starman

Chapter 3

TW: Description of a panic attack, mention of past su1cid3 attempt

Nico wouldn’t say that he was a pessimist, but after the awkward run-in with SunBoy last night he would be lying if he said he didn’t run back home and barged into Hazel's room.

The past day had been alright. Turns out Hazel wasn’t a bitch, just an introvert who quite literally had no idea what to do with a big brother, and honestly, Nico wasn’t sure how to behave now either. He knew, realistically, that they would never have a ‘normal’ sibling relationship, but he still hoped, somewhere deep down, that they might become somewhat normal over town. 

Hazel was nice, and Nico liked most of her friends. Frank wasn’t too bad either. Apparently he was just shy with a resting bitch face. 

However kind her friends may be, Nico knew that he would never feel safe with them. You know when you meet a new person, and you badly want you to click, but something is just a little bit off? That’s how Nico felt with Hazel's friends, but it would work. He really just needed to get through two years, and then he’d graduate and be able to move back home, and go back to his solitude. That was a safe plan, and he’d stick to it. He wasn't going to let some half sister get between him and his goal, and he definitely wouldn’t let a guy ruin it for him.

He’d let guys ruin things for him since even before he realized he was gay. There was the italian guy in the playground in preschool, the mysterious foodie in middle school, and numerous other crushes that he had promised never to tell anyone about. Well, he’d told Bianca, but that didn’t count. He’d told Bianca everything.

He never ended up telling his mom though. She had a tendency to be a bit old fashioned, and Nico didn’t want to risk losing her. He had planned to tell her once he had moved out, but that was before the accident. 

Sometimes he found himself talking out loud, as if his family was still with him. Sometimes he cried, because he wished it would’ve been him and not them. Bianca was a genius, both academically and socially. Nico had always just been her weird little brother, who cut his own hair because he hated hairdressers, and only wore clothes a size too big, because he didn't want anyone to look at him. She had a bigger reason to live. Nico was just… kind of there. Didn't do much, didn't say much, and didn’t make much of an impression on anyone.

That’s why he had been so uncomfortable when he saw that Will was watching him in the graveyard. That was Nico at his most vulnerable, and Will had forced himself into his bubble. 

“You will not believe what just happened!” He thumped down on Hazel's bed, realizing a little too late that Hazel was in the middle of a facetime call with Annabeth.

“Good evening to you too Nico” she replied with a sigh. It looked like Annabeth was about to say something, but Nico interrupted her.

“Not now Annabeth, this is a missing-fathers-only conversation”. Annabeth opened her mouth, probably to protest, but Nico leaned over Hazel and hung up the phone.

“Nico, I swear to god, if this is not super important I will kill you. We were busy talking”

“Yeah, yeah, Luke’s an asshole, I’ve heard” Hazel glared at him, but Nico just rolled his eyes. He’d had enough of hearing about Luke, especially when no one seemed to want to tell him what he had actually done that was so bad. 

“So I was in the graveyard-”

“No normal person hangs out in the graveyard.” Hazel interrupted.

“Shut up. As I was saying, I was in the graveyard,” He felt his breathing speed up and his limbs starting to vibrate. “And I’m talking to Bianca and mom” He felt like a weight was put over his chest “and then all of a sudden Will fucking Solace is there and he’s watching me, and probably thinking I’m crazy, and I really don’t want him thinking that because I’m not crazy, or am I?” He tried to form more words, but his mouth was so dry, and it was like all of a sudden no words made sense, and he couldn't form sentences, he felt like his head was being dunked underwater, and Hazel seemed to seep further and further away.

He could see her opening her mouth, watched her talk, but he couldn’t hear her, and then she was gone and he was left alone in her room. It seemed to shrink more and more as every second ticked by, and he was afraid it would kill him, crush him down into a fine powder, and then finally he would join mom and Bianca again, and he wouldn't be so alone.

He was so alone. So very alone. It was just him against the world.

He felt a lump form in his stomach, and before he had time to react he threw up all over Hazel’s floor. He was startled by the sound of a door slamming open, and he felt someone hold him, talking to him in a soothing voice, but he couldn't hear the words. Then a hand was pressed against his chest, and he noticed it wasn't moving. He wasn’t breathing. How do you even breathe?

The hand moved up into the air, and then down again, over and over again, until Nico realized his chest was supposed to follow it, and it did.

Slowly he seemed to come back to reality, and he realized he was sobbing. Hazel was holding him, and handed him a glass of water. She clearly didn’t know how to handle this, and Nico’s heart sank. He had just come crashing into her life, and now here she was, sitting on her floor, surrounded by his vomit, trying to comfort someone she’d known for less than a day. He realized she was speaking, but her voice was laced in concern.

“Hey, I’ve got you. I’m here.” Nico tried to answer, but no words came out, so he just leaned into her touch and cried. Cried for the first time since the funeral. Felt all of the feelings he had done his best to ignore for months.

He cried out of anger. Anger for that drunk driver who had separated him from his family. 

Out of sadness, because he would never see his mom or Bianca ever again.

And out of embarrassment, because Hazel saw him like this. No one was supposed to see him like this. Not even Bianca had seen him like this. God, how he missed her. He would do anything to be with her again.

Hazel grabbed his hand, and he realized he'd been stroking the ugly, horizontal scars on his wrists. Now she was crying too. He had ruined everything, and he just wanted to sink into the ground.

Those scars were his biggest shame. He had been drunk, and angry, and sad, and willing to do anything to be with his family again. He had sworn never to do anything like it ever again

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m so fucking sorry” Hazel tried her best to steady herself before replying with a shaky breath,

“Don’t apologize for feeling things. How can I help you?”

“You can’t”

“Let me in, Nico. You don't have to be alone in this.”

And so Nico talked, and he didn't stop until the early hours of the morning. When the siblings finally fell asleep, holding each other, Nico felt a little lighter. Hazel was good. He was going to give this a chance.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ 𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Hazel's alarm went off at 6 am, and Nico rubbed his eyes desperately. It was so early, and he felt like he had only slept for a minute or two. Next to him, Hazel groaned, before falling out of her bed, letting out a little yell. Nico couldn't stop himself from laughing, and Hazel glared at him before kicking him out of her room to get dressed.

Nico took a quick shower and found some clean-ish clothes in a moving box that he had never bothered to unpack. It still smelled of his home back in Italy, and he took a minute to breathe it in before downstairs where she was met by Hazel and Marie. 

He grabbed a sandwich and got into his car. It was a crappy RV, that barely even ran anymore, but he had bought it with his first paycheck, and he loved it. 

Since it was his, nobody could stop him from smoking in it, so naturally, he lit a cigarette. Hazel joined him and they sat in silence as Nico finished his smoke. When he had put it out, he glanced at her, considering telling her his biggest secret.

“Don’t you even dare apologize for last night”

“I wasn’t going to! It’s just, I want to tell you something,” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m gay.” Hazel hesitated for a second before replying

“Cool. Are you gonna make sure we get to school on time?” She smiled at him, and Nico mirrored her response before rushing off in a speed that definitely wasn’t legal, but he didn't care. He had a sister. He wasn’t alone. She might not be Bianca, but right now, Hazel felt just as safe.

[bandhyukoh]

I've been following you for years now and am always amazed at how dedicated you are, Thank you so much for always keeping us updated!!

I've been curious about you if you don't mind sharing! Where are you from, how you discovered Hyukoh for the first time and what made you create this fansite? Do you know korean to some extent to perhaps understand their lyrics on a deeper level, in their original form? Have you ever seen them live?

I feel like I've known you for long but not actually lol. Thank you again!<3

Thank you, thank you! I try my best!

I’m from Denmark and I randomly watched a dance cover of Wi ing Wi ing and liked the song. Afterwards I watched the Panda Bear music video which includes the following lyrics; Being alone makes me feel more comfortable + Don’t ask me what kind of person I am cuz I too myself don’t know who I am – and I remember thinking; "yeah, this band now owns my ass". And then it all just spiraled from there.

I actually did not create this fansite it was created by a now retired admin in may 2015 and in august-ish 2016 I became a co-admin and I’ve been the only admin since late 2017-ish. Initially I was only supposed to post a couple small updates from time to time. But when the former admin withdrew I at some point just decided to completely take over the everyday management step by step. It seemed like a natural thing for me to do because I’m not really the kind of person who does things half-heartedly. It was very much trial and error but I found a way of doing things that worked for me. I applied to become an admin because I just really love their music and thought it would be a fun thing to do. I decided to go all in because it is kind of a way for me to keep up with the band and still get to experience their performances and events while living on the other side of the world. It makes me feel as if I’m not as far away from them as I actually am. I also really like that it’s something that other fans enjoy and appreciate!

When I became an admin I knew a little bit of Korean. It was always my plan to become fluent/better after I completed my education in early/mid 2020. But then in 2019 I sustained a brain injury and basically my entire life got completely fucked up – to put it mildly – and the Korean I knew (literally) got knocked out of my head. I did hand in my master’s thesis earlier this year (wooh!!) while still suffering from the brain injury (NOT wooh!!). But I’m expecting to fully recover sometime early next year – so my life is getting back on track. And I now understand some Korean again, but not on the level as before my brain injury. So, no at the moment I don’t know Korean well enough to understand the lyrics on a deeper level.

I have seen them twice! The first time at a festival in Korea in 2016 and then in concert in 2017. I know this sound sappy but seeing them live just makes me so happy and I always get teary-eyed! I just forget everything else and just gape at them while smiling!

It’s fun with the whole knowing-people-thing. You – the followers – see a side of me that people in my life actually don’t. They know I run this account and they know I’m a passionate person, but they (except very few) do not see it to the extent that you all do. Some also do not understand it – I have been doing this for 8+ years so I have reached an age where people think I’m getting too old to do this. But I do what I want and don’t want to wake up in 10, 15 or 20 years and realize I have no interests/hobbies and sense of self because I abandoned everything I enjoy in order to live up to other people’s boring-ass-expectations.   

As always, I’m rambling – but you people apparently like it when I do that <3

[honeekyuu]

hey this is the shy anon from the other day that read through your ao3 and i just wanted to stop in and say to take your time and don’t let these anons get to you. i know you’ve been writing on your ao3 for a while now but your tumblr is literally brand new and i’m honestly at a loss for words that you’re already getting rude anons and people pressuring you to post more.

you seem like a really busy gal and i’d hate for demands like that to burn you out. you’re doing amazing and don’t let anybody be an asshole to you. post what you want when you want/can, i’ve seen far too many people give up on fandom because they feel like they have to constantly churn out content to the detriment of their creativity and passion. you’re so talented and based on the frequency with which you’ve been writing in the last few months it seems like you have a fire in your soul for haikyuu. i hate seeing it taken for granted and i just wanted to let you know you have support in doing whatever the fuck it is you want.

(feel no obligation to reply to this, just wanted to offer some support after seeing such atrocious fandom etiquette literal days into the life of this blog)

wow, i really dont know what to say--

i saw this as soon as you sent it in, but i was honestly super shocked that id gotten it, so ive just been sitting here thinking ab it.

it means probably more than you realize that you sent something so kind. i've been writing for a long long time now (both here on a different blog and on ao3), and it's true that i am very busy, because unfortunately being a phd student and running experiments and spending all my time running back and forth between my advisors and conferences and the lab means i have a schedule thats not really a schedule, and i can never really say when or what im going to be inspired enough to write, enough that i can pull myself out of daily burnout. i experience writing droughts often, sometimes lasting up to a year before i feel the urge to sit down with a doc again. and i have a LOT of half-written fics that have never seen the light of day, which i plan to get back to eventually but which, in reality, may never get finished.

ive gotten so much love and support over the years, and it's brought me back to writing every time. i love haikyuu with my soul, and i think about my fics almost every day because i feel a burning need to write them. if not for anyone else, then just for me.

but this blog is brand new, so, even though that anon i received definitely tops the list of unfriendly comments ive gotten over the many years of writing, i wanted to be as kind and accommodating as possible. because i dont want people to think im ungrateful and will ignore criticism, because no one likes those kinds of writers. but i am also a person, and writing is hard, so i think i will continue to do things my way.

my writing style is this, for anyone who'd like to know: i am erratic, and i dont have an upload schedule, because i cant realistically manage one. i have periods of inactivity, because life is hard, and i have periods of hyperactivity, because i love this fandom and the way that haikyuu makes me feel in a life that's full of terrible feelings. this may annoy some people, and i can understand that. but i cant force myself to write if im not in a place to write, and i cant force myself to stick to one fic at a time, because then it'll be clear that it's been forced.

im extremely annoying and unhinged and feral and i will talk about several different fics and smaus and text threads and headcanons all within the same breath. but i will always write what i love, so if you'd like to see work that is well-loved, feel free to stick around.

thank you very much to everyone whos been so kind in my inbox tonight, and i hope to see you all tomorrow <3