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endearng · 1 day ago

Text

Firsts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Summary: You and Spencer navigate through your firsts throughout your life as childhood friends.

WC: 6k

Warnings: death, grief, use of drugs to cope with grief, uhhhh i guess that's it

A/N: HELLO!!! It's been so so long and I'm sorry I took forever to update — uni's kicking my ass but now I'll try to write a bit more during holidays season. I hope you guys enjoy this one <3 Feedbacks are highly appreciated!

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"Do you think we'll stay friends?"

"I'm sure we'll stay friends."

For a genius, your best friend, Spencer Reid, never seemed to notice some of his speech patterns — he would echo you sometimes, which you honestly found adorably funny, and he also had a tendency for rambling, even if it wasn't that appropriate at times. When you two were alone, you didn't mind; in fact, you encouraged him and let him talk to you all the way. When there was someone else, like either of your parents or a teacher (these were your regular companions), you would try to tap him on the arm subtly so he would know when to stop. Although it broke your heart, he said himself once that he appreciated when you helped him look more normal.

Right now, things are everything but normal. Spencer had graduated high school at the age of 12 while you were still in seventh grade and he was leaving to study at Caltech. You didn't dare to compare yourself to him, but you would definitely miss him around, since he was the first person you saw everyday (besides your parents, of course) and the one who walked you to school and then went on the way to his. Right now, you are sitting on the floor of your front porch, while Spencer is laying his head on your lap and you have your hands on his hair. You always said to him that he's got nice hair, no matter how he styled or decided to cut it. He blushed every single time.

"You know… I'm gonna miss you, Spencer."

"I'm gonna miss you. But you'll still be in my life."

"Will I?"

"I'm leaving, but I'll try my best to keep in touch. We can call each other. I'll spare a couple hours of my week so you can talk to me." A small grin stretched on his lips when he mentioned talking to you. A crease made its way between your brows when you thought you'd only talk to him weekly.

Trying to play it cool, you asked, just to be sure, just to check if the pang in your heart felt less intense, less hurtful. "Will you?"

"Yes, I will."

Despite having him in your lap, you couldn't see his eyes, for they were closed in delight from your gentle touch. You saw him smile softly and you could see just how relaxed he seemed with this big change — honestly, if you were him, you'd be terrified. Quickly trying to get rid of your sad and fearful thoughts, as you ran your hands through his hair, you poorly fought the urge to chuckle when you thought about braiding his hair. He felt the air that left your lungs hit his face when you did.

Curious, as he always had been, he inquired, "What is it?"

"You'd look good with braids."

"I'm not letting you braid my hair," even if his tone was one of mock offense, a chuckle made its way out of him.

"I didn't ask to."

You saw as he bit back a grin. Little did you know, but he's is heaven, here in your presence. In dire need of some place safe to just be, without the expectations and the big things that are expected from him and to happen to him. As you unknowingly soothed his thoughts with your gentle touch, he thought about how strange it is having someone touch him and not being utterly opposed to the idea. He also thought about how, for one time in his life, he didn't know something, which was the feeling spreading on his chest. Nevertheless, there was a ghost of a small, shy smile on his face as his shoulders relaxed.

He was happy.

—

As you made your way home from your sixteenth birthday dinner, something felt odd. Looking out the window, the city lights seemed to run from how fast your dad is driving. In the backseat, all alone, you tried to figure out what made you feel so empty all night long. As the car went over a bump, you instinctively looked to the side, and then everything made sense. Spencer wasn't there. Usually, after whatever family celebration you'd go to, he would be there (because you'd insist on taking him with you), by your side in the backseat of your dad's car, laughing at whatever funny thing had happened during the event. He was your company to every single thing you did, and you had been missing him quite more often as the contact between you two became more and more scarce.

Turning to look out the window again, your mom saw the frown on your face and sighed quietly, knowing precisely why you weren't chatting like you normally did. The specific pair of ears that you wanted to be listened by were not here. And she didn't blame you one bit.

As you got home, your frown was quickly replaced by a hopeful feeling on your chest and in your features when you found a voicemail addressed to you.

Hey! I hope you get home before midnight so that you won't think, not even for a minute, that I have forgotten about you. I'm so sorry I couldn't make it! I'm really stressed right now because there are too many things happening at the same time and I'm here all by myself, so... I guess you know, better than myself, how I feel. You… You know me so well. It is nice to be known by you. Anyway... Um... I'd like to wish you a happy birthday and, ah, I also would like you to know that I wish I could have been with you today. I'm really sorry because I know how much you love your birthdays. I'm sending you a gift, but I'm not sure if it will arrive on time. I miss you. I miss you and whatever Taylor Swift song you were always humming when we were walking back from school.

Anyway, er... I miss you—hah—I don't think I'll ever be able to tell you how much I miss you. And how much I miss our time together. Uh, happy birthday!

You didn't know when, but you had teared up at some point listening to him. You didn't know whether the cause was hearing his voice again or because he remembered you or because he told you he missed your time together or that he remembered the silly songs you'd sing when you were walking back home together. Before going to bed, you let your bedside table lamp on, as you always did before so Spencer knew, from the house beside yours, that you were up or you didn't care if he called you in the middle of the night. Either way...

You were happy.

—

Underneath the Christmas tree, the glow of the warm white fairy lights you and your mom had picked out was almost blinding. Yet, you and Spencer couldn't care less. You were both too infatuated by the blinding brightness that punished your eyes to care about having problems later. Closing your eyes, you smiled to yourself, happy to be doing something so ordinary, so dumb, with your best friend. Behind your eyelids, the light was not as relentless and it granted some relief from the current sight, which sort of looked like a kaleidoscope of... white. You heard when Spencer turned his head to look at you, but you missed his soft grin.

"It was overwhelming me," you explained.

"I know." He replied, still looking at you.

Your profile, under the yellowish glow, looked almost ethereal. The slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, everything was forever ingrained into his memory. By now, Spencer could map out every single freckle on your face — especially the particular one on your lower lip. He sighed at the sheer thought of your lips. You were now seventeen and so was Spencer. Puberty had been way gentler on you than it was on him and he noticed with a blush that you were growing up, just as he was. You were a little taller, for sure, and you had put on some weight in all the right places, not to mention your style that matched your personality. As for him, he had that voice pitch swing that he hated greatly, still wore thick glasses and overall went with the nerdy stereotype that everyone picked on him for… while you looked like you were glowing.

You opened your eyes and turned to look at him. You were so close that it almost hurt. Inches separated Spencer from what he thought would be the best feeling of his life. From the person that had him lying awake for hours, tossing and turning on his bed until the sun began to rise. "I can't wait to give you your gift. I think you'll love it!"

He grinned. "I'll be happy with anything." From you, he meant to say, but he didn't finish.

You closed your eyes again, a grin of your own on your face. He wondered... What if he got closer? What if he kissed you? What if you pulled away? What if you didn't pull away? What if you cut him off?

Almost unconsciously, he inched closer and closer to the point your breaths mingled together. You didn't pull away, not even for a second. Instead, you leaned in, getting ever closer to him than you ever had been before. The fairy lights made you look even prettier than before. You looked like a dream.

"I was thinking..."

"About what?" He asked. Despite his gaze being lost in you, he was acutely aware of the words coming out of your mouth.

God, your mouth.

"It's stupid..." You muttered, looking away from his eyes.

"You know you can talk to me." It's not stupid if it's you.

"Okay... okay." You breathed in. "Me and the girls were talking about first kisses. And I felt so, so embarrassed because I haven't had mine yet."

Spencer felt dizzy. Even if he wasn't the best at social cues, if he was reading this right, you wanted him to kiss you too. He exhaled softly, trying to clear his thoughts. His voice was weak when he asked, "And?"

"Have you had yours yet? I know we talk about everything and all that, but... have you?"

He chuckled at your question. How could he, the scrawny little nerdy boy have had his kiss and you hadn't? "You're joking right?"

"I'm not! I'm genuinely curious."

He didn't know, but your heart was in your throat, too scared of a positive answer.

"I haven't had my first kiss yet."

Somehow, that did nothing to calm your racing heart. Inching even closer, you muttered, "we could have it together."

If Spencer didn't pass out with your words, he was sure he would be unshakable for the rest of his life. Whatever life threw at him, it wouldn't matter as much as this moment of sheer strength and self-control, because he didn't pull you in immediately. "Are you sure?"

"I'd be fine with kissing you. You're my best friend. I—I know you won't judge me and you know I won't judge you either. And—and... even if things are... embarrassing... i—it will still be a good memory in the… future." As your soft voice reached his ears, he felt like he was in heaven.

Your arguments for kissing him made him wonder if you had spent that much time considering it as he did. "Okay, you've got a few points. I'm—I'm not... opposed to the idea."

Your heart burned. You both inched closer and closer, a hair width separating your lips. As your eyes fluttered closed and you placed one of your hands on the back of his neck, both hesitantly and surely, Spencer mimicked you and pressed his lips to yours with the lightest pressure as his hand found your waist tentatively. Your lips felt so soft and sweet. He knew he would feel you for days — and hoped you'd feel him for days, too.

Encouraged by him, you pressed your lips a bit harder against him. He gasped softly and you took the opportunity to capture his lower lip between yours and kiss it gently. Spencer could feel his heartbeat drumming on his ears and he tightened his hold on your waist the tiniest bit. Internally, he thought he died and went to heaven and that's how he was welcomed there. Your lips fit together so nicely and he felt his heart burning for you and he knew back then that he would do anything you asked him to in a heartbeat.

You pulled back to lick your lips and fitted them into his again. He sighed, again, moving to your accord as he tried focusing on how good it felt to be kissed by you rather than how you could regret it later. Distancing yourself, your eyes slowly fluttered open, finding his dazed ones already looking back at you. You grinned at him. Another secret between the two of you; but this time, it wasn't an embarrassing one.

He smiled back.

Later that day, Spencer sat on his bed, touching his lips, feeling the tingle yours had left behind. Smiling like an idiot, he wrote that date on the wood of his nightstand, black marker holding the evidence that tonight had actually happened, if he were to ever forget. If anyone asked, well, he would have to come up with something to hide the fact that he was relentlessly in love with you, but he would replay the best memory of his life in the back of his mind as his mouth stuttered out a little white lie.

He was so confused. And screwed. And so utterly happy.

—

At Caltech, at the ripe age of eighteen, on a working day, as usual, Spencer typed aggressively on his keyboard, writing an academic paper on a topic that had come to his mind during one of his classes and later inspired fully by a conversation with this one professor. Looking at the time on his computer screen, he cursed. It was already time he was supposed to be on his way to class, which was unlike him. There was a reason, though.

Last night, he had gotten home late. He had lost track of time talking to a girl whose name was Alex. They were both at the university library, and they hit it off immediately talking about Literature and then more mundane things — he had found out that she was a high schooler having classes with grad students, just like himself a few years back. Getting home late, his entire schedule for the day ahead had been ruined, so everything felt odd as he tried to navigate through his last obligations. He had gone to bed later than usual and overslept for some reason unknown to him.

As he got up abruptly, he knocked his knee on the desk, which was now getting very small for the size he had grown into. Shutting his eyes and suppressing a whine, he breathed in. As he opened his eyes, his line of sight caught glance of one of the two only photos he had hung up on his wall. The first was him and his mother, Diana. The second was you and him.

It was short after your fifteenth birthday, and he finally had had the time to go visit. You had greeted him with a very warm hug. That very same day, you had dragged him to your bedroom, which now didn't have the pink walls and the posters of the bands you liked so much anymore. Now, the walls were a cool tone of sage green and your walls were cleaner, the posters being replaced by photos of you and your friends from school. He had felt a tinge of jealousy, noticing just how much he was missing out on your life. Despite the lingering feeling, he tried to not let it get to him.

You thanked him so much for the gift he had given you, one of those polaroid cameras. He had spent so much time saving money to get you that present. The excited, happy tone in your voice during the phone call you had made to thank him made him feel like it had been worth it to spend that much.

"Hey, here she is! I named her Marie. From Marie Curie, of course." You explained, holding your camera carefully as you both entered your bedroom

"You named 'her' Marie?"

"She has a special place on my heart."

He chuckled. "You're so material, sometimes."

"You gave it to me!"

"I gave it to you." He whispered, a hint of a smile dancing around his features.

You smiled. "Come on, let's take a picture. It's her first. I waited a whole month so you'd be here to take this photo with me. It's only fair you're the first person to be photographed with me by Marie."

"Oh... okay..."

Holding the camera with both of your hands, you held it out so that it would capture the two of you. "Smile." You said, and, without checking his pose, you pressed the button, a big grin on your face, for the photo, of course, but also from being so madly happy that you were with him again. Spencer didn't know what do to, frozen on the spot because you were so, so close. He just looked at you, dumbstruck gaze on him as he watched you smile so beautifully at the camera.

His heart was doing somersaults.

After the flash in your face, you blinked rapidly, chuckling to yourself. "Oooh. That's uncomfortable, heh." You open your eyes and the first thing you see are his beautiful hazel ones, looking straight at you, as if he didn't even blink upon the bothering aftermath of the light on your faces. You nearly had to gulp under the intensity of his gaze. Then, you quickly regained consciousness and started fanning the small piece so that the picture would appear faster.

The result was the one now stuck to his wall: you, with the biggest smile on your face and he, lovestruck, dumb, lost gaze as he looked at you.

Sigh.

Spencer quickly shook his head, not meaning to be later and even more stressed than he already was. He missed you, though. And he let himself relish in that feeling of longing for a minute. Glancing at the photo, he couldn't help but think you were already eighteen. And that he had loved you from the first time he saw you — when he was twelve.

He sat on his bed, having removed the photo from the wall. As he held it delicately between his fingers, he thought of you. He always did. In spite of being late, in spite of everything telling him he had to go through his days, he felt something tugging at his heartstrings, a longing feeling that he should be somewhere else, something that told him something, so he knew.

It was time to go.

—

Back in his hometown, even the air felt different, despite exuding an aroma that reminded him of his younger days. It had been some time since he had visited, and the distance between you and him only grew further. Driving past your house — the state of California had finally issued his license —, he saw a somewhat big crowd of people, all dressed in black.

He felt like the noise around him didn't fully reach his brain. Like he was under water.

Robotically stepping out of his car, he approached the house cautiously. Almost as instantly as your mom welcomed him, he saw you across the room, dressed in black. Bloodshot eyes found him instantly, and a flicker of relief passed your expression — unable to muster up a smile, but oh so willing to show him that you were grateful for his presence. You felt frozen to the spot and had been standing in that corner for hours. A man placed his hand on your shoulder and that's when you looked away from Spencer. He noticed it, of course, and was obliged to acknowledge the blonde man by your side. You didn't smile at him either.

Spencer approached, somewhat relieved that you were okay, but so confused and overwhelmed by the entire situation. Almost unwilling to believe whatever bad thing had happened, because he had been so happy with you in that house.

Once he was within your earshot, you greeted weakly, "Hi."

"Hi."

Silence.

"Can we talk?"

Something about the look in your eyes told him that you desperately wanted, no, needed, craved it from him, his presence. With a subtle nod, you excused yourself from the man and lead him to the backyard. Sitting on the same bench you did when it was too late and you talked about the stars together, you reveal softly as you stare into the distance, "Dad's gone."

Spencer felt like he had been punched and all the air had left his lungs after your confirmation of something he was suspecting already. Finally, he blurted out, sitting down by yourself, "W—what?"

"He didn't wake up."

"He didn't wake up?"

"No... Last night, Spencer..." You begun, your voice thick with emotion, "he said that everything was alright." You frowned, tears streaming down your face, "That he... loves... loved me and mom... and that... that had been his role on Earth."

He stood quiet, waiting for the rest of what you had to say, still shaken by the news. Your broken voice and distant gaze were enough to skyrocket the pain he felt. Spencer absolutely adored your dad, and he was one of the few that Spencer confided in wholeheartedly when things got too rough for him to bear by himself. Even though your dad was the quiet type, Spencer would go as far as saying that he was somehow his dad as well.

With your silence, he had a little time to see past the pain. Analyzing your figure, he knew. He knew you had to leave. If you decided to stay, you'd be rooted to the spot and you wouldn't be able to grow any further, forever stuck into the never ending, relentless force of grief. Spencer knew that because, besides knowing you better than anyone else, he had left in hopes to escape the person he thought he was doomed to become. Your voice brought him out of his reverie. "I laughed. I thought he was joking."

"Maybe he was joking."

"Maybe he knew he was leaving."

Silence.

You look up at him. Asking for answers. For something. For comfort.

Sitting down beside you, he held your shaking shoulders as you let tears fall freely and you lost your breath and you choked on your own saliva. An ugly, guttural, desolate crying. Spencer held you through it all — he was ready to scream at anyone on the garden if they had the nerve to go there, but, actually, in that moment, you didn't care that somebody could see or hear you. The effect of the pills your mother had given you had started to wear off and you felt things way more intensely than when she first broke the news.

Dad's gone, was all that you could hear her voice say as Spencer turned his body to fully embrace you, placing your head on his shoulder and sobbing your pain as an effort to quell the ache of your loss.

It took every single ounce of self-control for Spencer not to break down with you, because in that moment, he preferred to swallow his own pain so that he could be your safe space instead. As your sobs slowly subsided, you sighed, squeezing your eyes shut as if that would make the pain that invaded your whole body go away.

"I think..." you started, but never finished.

Silence.

"I think you should move away."

You looked at him, baffled, puzzled, hopeful.

"What?" You whispered softly.

"I think staying won't do you any good. And you know I'm right." His gaze never faltered.

You took a deep breath. "M-my mom... Spencer... she doesn't have anyone else. I-I can't do that... to her..." You gulped. The meer thought of leaving felt exhilarating, but you had to stay. You were rooted.

"Your brothers are always around." He replied.

"Not anymore. Much has changed since… since you... left."

"I didn't leave." He said, defensively.

"I didn't accuse you. At least I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "Would you consider it? Leaving, I mean?" Please, say yes. Please, say yes. Come with me.

"I would... I don't know, Spencer." Your voice was broken. "Too... too much is going on. I can't just... go."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"There's dad. And now mom. And that stupid college... I don't know where I fit." You fit next to me, he wanted to scream at you, but he realized it wasn't fair of him to demand anything from you at that moment. "I don't know what path to take without my dad here to guide me." A wet chuckle made its way out of you. He hugged you again.

On a sudden wave of boldness, he stated, "If you stay, this will be your life. If you go, you'll have somewhere to come back to if things go wrong. I—I… I know, um, that I sound very insensitive right now, but that's the truth. Why do you think I went away?"

"I can't." And your tears began again, even harder this time.

He sighed, holding you against his chest once again. Despite the unbearable pain of not being able to help, to persuade you, he decided to respect your decision.

“My father's in a casket. I have got no plans.” You muttered softly. His heart broke for you all over again.

“You've got me. And I've got you.”

Looking up at him, your eyes glimmered with hope. Desperate to believe him, desperate to leave. With him, if he'd have you.

But that wasn't how it worked.

You buried your face on his chest again, willing the tears to stop, to have some control over yourself again.

He held you through it all. He was there for you.

Spencer's stay didn't last long, even though it was filled with an unspoken, desperate beg for you to come with him, even if he didn't quite know how things would work once you accepted. After some thinking, he realized he was asking too much of you for the sake of trying to protect you from what he knew was going to happen. Losing his own father, albeit for a different reason, had changed him permanently and he was scared that you, losing yours, would turn into a different person too. The mere thought of losing you to grief was too much to handle, even if he understood that his pleas were unfair to you, not to mention absurd.

Spencer's brain was turned into a whirlwind of thoughts, all of them desperate to find a way out of this situation, to find a way out to get you out of that place — both physically and mentally. As he stood by your side during your dad's burial, he let you squeeze his hand as if that would somehow make the pain less intense for you. It didn't, but it felt nice to have someone to carry the weight with you.

—

Spencer had joined the FBI at the age of 23, when you were graduating from college. The difference was staggering and it made you laugh the same as it had when he was going to college and you were going to seventh grade. It had been years since you had last met in person, after all, Diana was the main reason he'd go to Vegas, and he didn't go there much because he was often too busy with his studies and his career. Once, he had confided in you, saying that he secretly wished that it would be enough of a good excuse to avoid seeing his mother in a facility and saving them both from the pain. Tonight, though, that would change. You were visiting him in Virginia.

A little nervous, you knocked on his door. Once he answered, you took in his appearance and your heart swelled at the sight. In your eyes, he'd always looked the prettiest, but now… It's like something had shifted: Spencer was all that you saw. And you didn't want to look at anything else anymore.

“Hi,” you greeted in a weak voice. Perhaps the intensity of your smile stole away your will to speak properly.

“You're here.” Spencer muttered, eyes filled with many emotions, but that you decided to read as relief.

“I am.”

“God, it's been so long,” he says, closing the gap between you and him, wrapping his arms around your torso, resting his head on your shoulder, not so subtly trying to smell your perfume. And failing to hide the overdrive when he noticed it was the same from all those years ago, from when you had first kissed.

Pulling away slightly, you cupped his cheeks with both hands and took in his shiny eyes, the ones that you adored so much and now met yours with a new perspective on everything. Once entering his apartment, you found that the place screamed his name, from the scattered books and the endless piles all over his living room. His TV had a documentary in a foreign language on, and you smiled to yourself. Spencer had never changed and, at his core, was still the boy you were once close friends with.

Spencer filled you in on the things you missed. You knew they were mostly about his job because he wasn't one to step out of his comfort zone — not that you'd judge him for it. “I miss having you around, tapping my arm so I know when to stop,” he revealed softly as you two shared a tub of ice cream.

Forget germs, forget pathogens, forget viruses, forget everything. She is here.

You giggled. It set his heart on fire. “Ah, Spencer… You know I only did it when other people were around. Other people are just other people. You're you. And rambling is part of who you are. Don't let that disappear.”

He smiled. You were still you.

“In fact, I have something to tell you.”

His heartbeat fastened, thinking of every possible scenario, reliving every single one of your experiences in the back of his mind. “You… you have something to tell me?” He echoed. He was still him.

Chuckling softly, “I'm glad you're still you, Spencer. I still say your name when people ask me who's my best friend. It's an excuse to relive our favorite stories as I tell them all about you.”

Spencer was left speechless, bashfully looking away from you as he resumed to talk about his days at the FBI. He told you all about his team, the people and what they found on a daily basis. “Do you think it's weird that I study what I do study?”

“No, Spence. You've always had a curious mind. Why do you ask?” You inquired back.

“I don't know… sometimes I think that people find me weird.”

“You're not,” you said, simply. “Your interests are very diverse, and anyone who talks to you will find that out. Being a profiler is not weird.”

He grinned. Your words or arguments about his insecurities throughout your friendship weren't always the most complex, but he always felt better by talking to you. He was never ashamed, never too scared of admitting something or voicing his needs. You made him feel like it was okay to speak, to want, to be. Whatever his limitations were and whatever words he left unspoken, they were never your fault. You'd never frowned at him, not once.

As the night progressed, he filled you in on what he had been doing for fun, mentioning his current readings — one of them on his nightstand. Giddily, you went over to his bedroom to find the novel that he was talking about, so that you could hear him talk about it and recite, by heart, quotes that illustrated his points and interpretation from the book. Upon entering his bedroom, you smiled to yourself. So Spencer. The sand-colored walls, the neat and clean floor, his slightly wrinkled bedsheets, a pile of laundry on top of his bed, a few scattered items on his nightstand — which, by the way, was the same in his mother's house. You had always found it amazingly pretty, the light wood and the black paint that covered the iron of the drawer pulls.

As you reached the piece of furniture and removed the book, you found something scribbled right under where the object had been lying. You were ready to give him a piece of your mind and you opened your mouth, ready to tell him not to ruin the perfect nightstand, but as you turned on the lamp to try and find out what was written there, the writing in black ink made you shiver. You fell silent. It was the date of your first kiss.

Time stopped. Why was that date written there? And why did the possibilities both scared and thrilled you so damn much? You felt someone behind you. “So, you found the book or what?” The question made its way out of his lips in a teasing tone. But, as you turned around softly, the book still clutched tightly in your hands, your eyes questioned him back. Not accusingly, only… curiously.

When he realized what you had discovered, the air left his lungs and he tried desperately to come up with an excuse. It turns out that he hadn't been asked by many people about the meaning of that date — and it's not like he had many visitors, anyway. “I… You… You… Did you… see it?” You managed to nod, weakly.

“What does it mean?” You asked, eyes never leaving his.

Looking away, he replied, “I was scared to forget.”

“Forget?” You inquired, shifting your weight.

“About it…. That night, I mean. about… us.” You gazed at him understandingly once he answered.

“About us?” Funnily enough, now you were the one parroting him. It would have made you chuckle if the situation wasn't that serious.

He breathes out, “Yeah, us.”

A beat of silence. You take a step towards him, and his breath hitches. “Have you forgotten?”

He searches your face. Upon finding nothing but support, he reveals, “There's not a single day I don't remember that moment.” You gulp and he takes a step closer, which makes your grip on the book tighten even more. You closed your eyes — a silent invitation, but it makes him falter once he doesn't have your eyes to navigate him through what he's supposed to do.

I'm glad you're still you, Spencer.

Encouraged by the memory of your words from moments ago and the presence of you, he closes the distance between you, once and for all. There's nothing that could hold him back from loving you once your lips touch and press together in a kiss that makes the book fall to your feet as your hands find their place on the back of his neck.

On any other day, Spencer Reid would be pissed upon seeing someone drop a book, let alone a considerably heavy one, on his feet — that's absurd. That moment, though, he couldn't care less as he squeezed your waist, as if trying to convince himself that you were there, that it was real, and that he finally got to do what he has always wanted.

Spencer and you had been through many firsts during the time you've known each other; some good firsts and some pretty bad firsts. But, there was a quote, from ‘Doctor Who’, that you always reminded him and yourself whenever things got too tough:

"The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don’t always spoil the good things and make them unimportant."

As long as he had you to soften the bad things and had your company during the bad things that made the good ones unimportant, Spencer figured that life would be a pile of more good than bad things.

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arisluvvers · 2 days ago

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Highschool Jimmy AU smut fic.

High School AU Jimmy belongs to me and @birdyisthewordyy /silly. Note that Jimmy and the reader are both seniors in this fic and are of age!

Jimmy x GN! Reader

Readers Genitalia is not mentioned at all and is entirely left up to interpretation!

Contains mentions of: Paranoia, bullying, watching porn, masturbation, virginity loss, missionary sex (It's both of their first times give em a break)

Not proofread!! Reader discretion is advised.

A/N: Do you ever sit down and tell yourself "I'm gonna write 1K words." And then end up with 3.6K words? Anyways I'm so sick rn.

Jimmy bit his lip, his hands shook slightly before he met your intense gaze. “Are you sure you want to do this? With me? I mean out of everyone… you could pick… anyone from our highschool - are you really sure you want your first time to be with someone… like… like me?” His voice came out as a soft whisper and his soft brown eyes met yours, pleading for any sort of non verbal confirmation that you were indeed - okay with this whole thing happening - at his hands nonetheless.

That you were okay with him pressing his lips against the skin of your shoulders.

That you were okay when his breath hitched and his eyelids fluttered shut when you pressed open mouthed kisses to his collar bones.

That you were okay with his hands mapping over parts of your body that he dreamed of touching - that he spent so many hours of every day and every night fantasising about.

He wanted to make sure that you were okay with him. Okay with him being here with you.

Okay with him loving you.

Jimmy was socially awkward, and what most would consider: a loser, or even a creep. Jimmy wasn't stupid, he knew that much already. He was a nobody, a shadow in the background of every class photo. His fellow classmates barely acknowledged his existence - save for his best friend Curly of course.

He was called names behind his back. People whispered about him when he walked through the halls - and maybe he was being delusional, but Jimmy swore he could feel all the pairs of eyes trained onto his slouched form as they gossiped about him and called him weird or gross.

And you know what at this point - he didn’t mind it much anymore.

He never really cared about making friends, or appealing to anyone at all. Curly accepted him for who he was and that’s all he really cared about to be frank.

He wasn’t set out to meet and potentially befriend a million people. He was content with just one.

But that all changed when you stepped into the picture.

He had originally considered you the poor and unfortunate soul that was assigned by your teacher to be paired with him for your shared chemistry project.

Jimmy found these sorts of group projects to be the worst - usually his teacher assigned classmates would either: discreetly drop all of the workload onto his shoulders - and then get mad when he was barely able to scrape up a B plus - out outright said that they would refuse to work with the likes of him and demand a new partner, not caring if he was sitting right next to them - listening in.

What he didn't expect was for you to sit down next to him, after grabbing all of your things, flash him a brilliant smile and in the most angelic voice he has ever heard, ask him, “So… where do we begin?”

From that moment on Jimmy was smitten. Your hair - your eyes - your voice - your lips - heck he even fantasised about how pretty your hands would look against his skin. Not all of it was sexual though, Jimmy frequently caught himself daydreaming about being your boyfriend - about taking you out on extravagant dates - that he definitely couldn’t pay for but hey- you can’t blame him for dreaming! He thought of holding your hand and kissing you under the shooting stars. Way too many times he caught himself thinking of the kind of suits he might wear to your shared wedding - or the colour of the tiles of the kitchen floor your shared house might have.

It seemed that it was during one of his many daydream sessions when Curly pointed out that his best friend seemed so lost in thought lately - that it sounded like Jimmy here, was in love with his chemistry partner.

Only for a very flushed and red Jimmy to shut him down. Yet Curly’s suspicion never left the confines of the blond boy's mind.

And it never left Jimmy's either.

In love.

Was he in love?

Or was just a fleeting obsession.

A crush.

Nothing more.

It would go away.

That's what he told himself. “It's only just a crush, it'll go away. It's just like all the others, it'll go away.”

And yet - it never ended up going away.

Jimmy spent nights upon nights with your name echoed on his lips as sweat dripped across his moonlit kissed chest. His pants were discarded to the side, long forgotten. His body ached and was hot to the touch. He could feel his blood pulsating and thrumming under his skin. His hand was sore and he was tired - but he was almost there. It was practically on the tip of his tongue.

��Jimmy.’

His subconsciousness blessed him with the memory of your voice - so soft and so fucking tender. And so full of love. He could practically feel your hands, sliding across his hot skin, pressing hot kisses to his body and ultimately - tipping him over the edge.

Jimmy bit his lip to muffle the sounds of his moans as he squeezed his eyes shut, cursing under his breath. He arches his back, his brown eyes rolled back as he muffled his groans, reaching the peak of pleasure. It felt like fireworks were exploding in every one of his blood vessels, his whole body grew hot and sweaty.

The feeling of euphoria was nothing short of incredible.

It was almost like he could feel your soft, loving caress as he slowly recovered from his high. And yet when he opened his eyes.

His bed was empty.

It was during nights like these where Jimmy would usually end up frowning slightly before ultimately shaking himself off and moving to clean the mess he had made. It's fine - ‘you were way out of my league anyways.’

You probably had loads of boys in your bed before.

And if you were going to be in someone's bed it definitely was not going to be with him.

But it looked like he owed Curly fifty bucks. Money he definitely didn’t have right now.

He lost the bet because of you.

Because you were there.

You were here. In his bed. And it was real - this whole thing was real. He was really about to do this.

With you.

His biggest crush.

His wildest fantasies - the images that plagued his mind twenty four seven - were all unfolding right now in front of him.

In his fantasies he knew exactly what to do - where to put his hands and where to kiss you. In his mind the countless hours spent watching porn weren't for nothing, because he gained information from them. And he would use all of that information to make you cum so hard and so fucking fast that you would forget your own name.

But that was in his fantasies. Truth be told, now that you were here - laying in front of him - ’Wearing nothing but your underwear’, Jimmy told himself - he had no idea what to do. His hands where shaking and fuck- why was he sweating so much?? ‘[Name] must think I am so fucking gross right now.’ What was he supposed to be doing? Was he supposed to touch you? Or was he supposed to kiss you? Where was he supposed to grab? Your hands? Your hips?

‘God, if you’re up there. Please fucking help a poor guy like me out. I really think I might actually start crying right now.’

“Jimmy, are… are you okay? You're really red.” You mumbles, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek and brushing your thumb against his acne ridden cheek. “Hey it’s okay.. We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to-” Jimmy shook his head, cutting off your words by pressing the palm of your hand against his lips, tenderly kissing your flushed skin.

There was no fucking way he was going to give up his one chance. He wasn’t going to throw away the one opportunity to love you completely - love you in the way he dreamed off.

“No no! I want to. I’m just… nervous is all...” He confessed, a whisper under his breath. Jimmy averted his eyes, casting them downward. Fuck- nervous was the understatement of a lifetime. Jimmy was down right terrified - what if you didn’t like it? What if you didn’t think he was hot enough? What if he wasn’t able to make you cum? What if you ended up hating him? What if you never gave him the chance to be your boyfriend if he screwed up? What if you never spoke to him again after this? What if-

“I’m nervous too… This is my first time y'know.” You confessed shyly, your body growing warm at your confinement of what you considered - your biggest secret. Your friends had their fair share of sex and weren’t afraid to spill any extra or juicy secrets. TMI was a thing of the past. Sure you watched your own fair share of porn in the past too but this was real, this was real life. This wasn’t a video that was going to end up being played on a screen. Nor was it over the top fake acting. But this wasn’t hushed whispers and slightly flushed cheeks in the back of the maths class either. Nor was it giggles and prodding each other for more information during lunch breaks.

This was real.

This was real and you were about to have sex with Jimmy.

Your chemistry project partner - turned lab partner - turned close friend - turned muse for any thoughts that lingered too long in the back of your mind and too many nights spent with your hands in between your thighs, his name leaving your lips like an empty prayer.

The same boy was now looking down at you - his hands shaking as he rested them against your bare hips. Jimmy’s eyes were wide. This was your first time? There was no way - there had to be a mistake - there had to have been someone else.

“This… is your first time…?”

Jimmy whispered.

You nodded and gave him a nervous smile.

“And you want to do this with… me?”

You nodded.

“And there’s no-one else you’d rather do this with - Cause I mean if there is I’d rather just get dressed y'know?… Don’t wanna waste your time with me when you could be fuckin’ oh I dunno… like Curly or someone y’know?.” Jimmy gave you a nervous grin, it was obvious he was trying to hype himself up but there was most definitely a layer of insecurity coated under his words.

Because of course there was - he wasn’t Curly. Curly who could charm the likes of both the students and teachers alike - Curly who would win the praise of everyone.

He wasn't ‘Overly Exceptional Curly.’

He was ‘Slightly Below Average Jimmy.’

You shook your head and smiled. “No. I can’t think of anyone else I would rather do this with. I want you to be the one to take my virginity, Jimmy.”

Those words. Those few words. The words he so desperately ached to hear were spilling from your lips.

Mist glazed over Jimmy’s eyes. Am I going to cry? He thought to himself. Fuck I’m going to cry. Jimmy sniffled and blinked quickly, trying his best to stop the tears from spilling.

You sat up from your spot on his bed and cooed under your breath, reaching up with a tender touch to wipe his eyes. “I want this Jimmy.” You reassured him once more with a smile. “I want you...”

He felt more determined now. Nodding he grabbed your underwear and slid it down your hips, exposing you to him. He swallowed, meeting your eyes. “If uh… this hurts or anything please tell me. I don’t wanna hurt you.” He mumbled. You nodded and smiled. “I trust you. And if it hurts I’ll tell you to stop.” You whispered.

Jimmy nodded, pressing two fingers at your entrance. He observed your face carefully, watching your every reaction as he slowly pushed in one finger. You squirmed and whimpered a little but didn’t draw away. Jimmy was ecstatic! At least he was doing something right! Right?

When you nodded again Jimmy began to thrust his finger in and out at a slow pace, he had read somewhere that sex required a good amount of preparation and lube too. Good thing he was prepared and bought a bottle of the stuff - and a few condoms too just in case.

“You can… add another finger.” You whispered under your breath. Jimmy snapped out of his train of thoughts and nodded, slowly easing in another finger. It’s warm. He noted to himself. His cock stirred in his boxers - twitching slightly at the promise of what was going to come.

Fucking hell he was so excited he could barely think straight.

You were so attractive and so nice and so hot and your kisses tasted like cherries and strawberry ice-cream. And you were here! And you were going to have sex with him. With him! Out of everyone you wanted your first times to be with - you wanted Jimmy to be your first! You trusted him enough to let him take your virginity!

You whimpered and his name escaped your lips in a pleading whine.

Jimmy could feel the precum pouring from the slit of his cock. His dick twitched and he groaned in delight drawing his fingers away. He smirked slightly when you whined at the loss of his touch. “Hey don’t worry, I just gotta prep myself and then I’ll be ready to properly fuck you.”

You nodded, throwing an arm across your face. “Okay…” The moonlight from Jimmy’s window pooled over your bare body and it was strangely comforting. Sitting there and knowing that you were safe. There was shuffling coming from Jimmy’s side of the bed and he cursed under his breath. “Are you okay Jimmy? Do you need help?” You chuckled, pulling your arm away and sitting up. The sound of the lube bottle being opened echoed around the room, and you silently thanked your lucky stars that Jimmy’s father was out for the weekend. You could only imagine the kind of temper tantrum that man would throw if he caught you in his son’s bed.

A very nervous Jimmy shook his head. “No, I got it! It’s okay! Just relax!” He insisted, pushing you back down on the bed. “I just uhm… Can I uh… tell you something?” He whispered.

“Yea?” You whispered back, looking up at the ceiling. The glowing plastic stars stuck on the ceiling made your heart flutter. Your eyes slid from one star to the other making constellations in your mind. ‘The star crossed lovers.’ You smiled as you looked up at them, two figures. Holding hands. How you managed to make that out from Jimmy’s plastic glow in the dark stars you wouldn't know. “Are you sure you won’t hate me?” Jimmy whispered.

“I could never hate you.” You whispered back, meeting his eyes. “I could never hate you Jimmy. Never.” You said sternly.

Jimmy nodded and took in a deep breath, positioning the tip of his cock at your entrance. The tip prodded at your entrance and he took in a sharp inhale of air, slowly easing himself into you. “I think I’m in love with you.” He whispered as he gripped the sheets tightly. Jimmy let out a soft moan and pressed his forehead against yours, squeezing his eyes shut.

Your breath hitched and you bit your lip. “Fuck…” He felt so good and this feeling of being so… full. It felt so good. Your heart fluttered, thrumming against your rib cage. “I think I’m in love with you too.” You whispered back.

Jimmy’s eyes opened, his pupils were blown out and his cheeks were rosy. His breathing came out hot and bothered. “You’re… serious? You’re in love with me?” He couldn't help the stupid grin that spread across his lips.

You nodded, and smiled back. “Yea. I am. You’re amazing Jimmy. I would be an idiot if I didn’t fall for you.” You whispered back.

Jimmy swallowed and grabbed the sides of your face as he slowly rocked his hips against yours. “Stop me if I do something wrong.” He breathed out before pressing his lips against yours.

The kiss was desperate and messy and fuck was it hot. There was the feeling of tongues pressing against each other and teeth clashing. The feeling of the tip of Jimmy’s cock rubbing against that one spot inside of you - and the feeling of his tongue licking against yours - and now knowing that he shared the same feelings for you made your head hazy and- fuck it felt so fucking good.

Jimmy was making you feel so fucking good.

And you wouldn't have had it any other way.

Jimmy groaned, pressing his forehead against your shoulder pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth. “You’re so tight I- it’s so warm… feels better than I imagined fuck-” he panted. Jimmy groaned - at this point he might not be able to hold on for any longer. He was so fucking close - his head might explode.

You weren’t doing any better either, with every delicious drag of Jimmy’s cock inside of you was bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body was hot - too hot, like your skin was on fire and felt like Jimmy was the water that existed to only quench your thirst.

Like he was your second half. The part that completed you The part that made you feel whole. Your reason for existing. When you held his hand you felt alive, the feeling of his pulse against your palm was the reason you felt so alive.

And now this - the feeling of him inside of you - the way his cock dragged through your sticky walls was enough to make you feel like you were floating. Airy… light… like you were in cloud nine.

Jimmy was the drug.

And you were already addicted.

“I’m… close.” He panted, sinking his teeth into the delicate flesh of your shoulder using it to muffle his moans.

You groaned, eyes rolling back, gripping at his shoulders and digging your nails into his skin. “Fuck me too-”

Jimmy nodded his words slurring, his vision growing hazy. Sex drunk. It hadn’t even been five minutes and he looked like he was about to pass out. “Cum with me.” He whimpered. “At the same time. Cum together with me.” He groaned pathetically, rutting his hips against yours, desperately trying to make you reach your high.

You nodded eagerly, moaning as you threw your legs around his hips, trying to stop him from accidentally pulling out. “Jimmy- oh fuck Jimmy ‘m so close.” You whimpered, eyes growing wet. Fuck it felt so good- he felt so good. You felt so fucking good.

Life felt so fucking amazing right now.

Jimmy bit his lip, his grip on the bed sheets growing even tighter - to the point his knuckles were going white. He threw his head back and moaned when he came. The filling of Jimmy reaching his peak was enough for you to follow, with your back arching and your legs shaking - you came with him.

It took a minute for you both to compose yourselves, the air in the room was stuffy and warm and reeked of sex. But neither of you really minded. “Did you… are you- I mean did you enjoy it?” He whispered, he was kind of hoping you’d say yes - seeing as he did make you finish after all. But still, he wanted to hear it.

He craved that sort of validation.

You smiled and nodded. “I did. I really enjoyed Jimmy.”

Jimmy grinned and pumped his fist. “Yes!!” He hissed under his breath before catching himself. “I mean uh… yea good that’s good. I wasn’t too rough or anything right?” He smiled when you laughed and shook your head. “No, I'm fine. Thanks for worrying though.”

“Good! I’ve uhm… never done this before so sorry- I don’t really know what I’m doing.” He mumbled under his breath and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Me neither.” You chuckled, flushing slightly. “But hey! We’ll get through it together.” You hummed, offering him a grin.

Jimmy grinned back, pulling on his boxers before helping you get dressed, moving to lay beside you in bed. “Yea… Oh that reminds me! Did you uh… mean it when you said you liked me back - I mean you can say no y’know I’m like- not gonna force you to be with me if you don’t want to or if it feels like I’m forcing you to be with me!”

You laughed and shook your head. “No I meant it! I really did.” You cut him off and watched the words die on Jimmy’s lips. You watched his face contort from joking fear of rejection - to confusion - to elation.

“You… you want me to be your boyfriend?” He whispered, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes and you nodded, smiling at him.

Jimmy grinning and grabbed you by the shoulders, tugging you into his arms with an ‘omph’. “This is the best day of my life!” He laughed. You smiled back and nuzzled into his side, body growing heavy with sleep. Jimmy threw an arm over his face. His cheeks were beginning to hurt from all the smiling he was doing but he didn’t care. This was the best day of his fucking life. ‘Thank you God. Thank you for keeping me alive. This is so worth it.’

Tagging: @birdyisthewordyy @tim-tam-jumbalya

#arij✩m !#my s★lfships !#mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #mouthwashing jimmy #mouthwashing x reader #jimmy x reader #mouthwashing game #jimmy x reader smut #mouthwashing x reader smut #mouthwashing headcanon #mouthwashing headcanons #mouthwashing jimmy x reader #mouthwashing jimmy x reader smut #x reader #jimmy mouthwashing x reader #jimmy x reader mouthwashing

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inquisimer · 2 days ago

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Arlow and Viago “can you hear my cry, an old lullaby drifting through the sky?” >:]

HELLO MY LOVE I am kissing you on the lips, I put that one on the list and was like "this is an arlow & viago prompt", thank you for reading my mind

Arlow de Riva & Viago | 808 words | for @dadrunkwriting - da4 spoilers, Viago ruminates (regrets?) Arlow's absence from Antiva

Viago missed Salle.

Not that the accommodations in Treviso were lacking—his apartments here were more than sufficient. But they were suffocating without Arlow there to fill the empty spaces where she usually was. He wished things were such that he could lock the door and flee to his villa in Salle.

But the Antaam remained. And he had no right to be missing Arlow, when he was the one who sent her away.

As she deserved, he reminded himself. If she had simply thought before launching herself at those Antaam, they would never have been in this situation. Yet, the ache in his throat remained.

Treviso’s skyline was bathed in the pink and orange hues of sunset. From the balcony, it was easy to imagine that the city was still theirs, and that Arlow would be tripping off a zip line any moment, reporting in on this contract or that surveillance. Smirking and insufferable, but alive and there.

“You’re brooding again.”

A Qunari war horn blasted Viago’s reminiscence to pieces. His fingers tightened on the railing. “I’m always brooding. You like it.”

Teia’s bare feet padded softly against the slats and Viago wrinkled his nose. Off the top of his head, there were half a dozen poisons easily concealed in wood stain and best absorbed through the skin. But she didn’t care about that—or, at least, she knew that he had the antidote for any toxin that could touch her only a whisper away.

“it is not half so attractive when you are truly troubled,” she murmured, propping herself as close to his side as she could without touching him. Her hair fell loose and unruly over the collar of his shirt. But even that only just hitched the melancholy tune of his thoughts. “You miss her.”

Viago huffed. “She is the most competent assassin in my House and we are under an occupation. It is like being without my best blades.”

“Do not pretend she is nothing more than a weapon to you,” Teia chided. “Lie to yourself, if you must, but do not lie to me.”

Viago’s nostrils flared, as they always did when Teia saw straight though him. He was learning to trust the tightrope she asked him to walk, but after a lifetime without a net, it was a hesitant process. Luckily for him, she had a penchant for hard cases.

“I have never sent her off for so long, nor so harshly,” he admitted. “And I do not know when she will return. It is… difficult.”

“You could know,” Teia suggested. “You could summon her back.”

“She has a contract.”

“And how will she know if she’s allowed to report in on it if you do not tell her that Antiva is open to her again?”

“You read my letter?” Viago raised a brow, but Teia’s smirk was unabashed. She shrugged and his gaze followed the fluid motion of her exposed collarbone.

“I wouldn’t have recommended leading with ‘idiot’, but she’s probably used to it.”

“If she wasn’t such an idiot all the time, she wouldn’t be,” Viago muttered. He looked down into the murky canal below and frowned. “She did not write back.”

Teia laughed, which only deepened his scowl. “Did you expect her to?”

“If the job was done, yes,” he snipped. “But it has been months.”

“And you sent her on an open-ended contract. I’m sure if anything drastic happened, Varric would write. That is why you hooked her up with him, no?”

Viago pursed his lips. “He has a track record of pulling asses out of fires. But I am not confident in his definition of drastic.”

“He is perfectly competent, as you well know. You’ve never let your conscience get in the way of logic before, don’t start now.” Teia laid her hand out, palm up on the railing. After a beat, Viago laced his gloved fingers with hers and she squeezed.

“If you want her back, Vi, you will have to face the other Talons and tell them so. Tell her so, in no uncertain terms. This is the corner you have painted yourself into.”

Viago glowered at the neighboring building. He hated few things as much as he hated Teia being right in a way that grated on his nerves. She could have at least done him the courtesy of acknowledging that he was not the only party at fault in this scenario.

“She will tell me when the job is done,” he said stubbornly. “When the job is done, and her lesson is learned, then we will bring her home.”

Teia sighed and shook her head. The sun slipped below the horizon and a familiar cloak of darkness covered them both. Covered Arlow, too, in the east. In Tevinter.

His throat tightened. Use it well, he thought. Use it well, and come home.

#dadwc #my writing #dragon age #da4 #viago de riva #oc: arlow de riva #viago & arlow #rook de riva #andarateia cantori #teia x viago #veilguard spoilers #dragon age fanfic #dragon age fanfiction

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200markies · 23 hours ago

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Heyyy!! I love your work <3 Can you write a 'Mark is the type of boyfriend to...' and/or something about: idol!mark and reader as a regular person (full time job+college student) maybe with a little bit o angst since they are so different from each other etc?

　　　　mark ♡ is the type of boyfriend to ... ⁺

mark soft hours & headcanons. all are fictional.

pairing: mark lee x fem!reader

genre: romance, fluff

requested by anon !

author's notes: i did NOT expect all of you guys to like the jeno headcanons so much to the point that an anon requested a mark ver which convinced me enough to make another one for the week 😭 y'all do indeed enjoy the headcanon series. anyway, to the anon who is reading this, i have to be honest with you but i genuinely enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this. PLEASE. this took me hours to write and i don't expect JUST the anon to like this but all of you too! i can't even say "i hope you enjoy" in the author's notes now that i'm expecting a thousand notifications on my activity tab in this platform.... 🤓

p.s. let us all thank mark lee for making the most boyfriend material instagram that could ever exist.... without r_e__m___ this headcanon wouldn't be BORN!

reminding all of u guys that my ask inbox is open so don't hesitate to drop a request or an ask !!!

mark is the type of boyfriend to write you poems whenever feels like it, or whenever it's a special occasion that's all about you. whether it be your birthday or your anniversary together, mark tries his absolute best to find all the words and combine it to make a poem that will surely make you happy. he wants to make you feel loved and safe with him, especially since he's your boyfriend.

"hey, beautiful, i left something on your desk," mark walks to you in the living room, sitting beside you while you work a deadline. you turn to him and chuckled, looking at your room which had a yellow folded note. you knew immediately that mark wrote a poem, and you can't wait to read it. you stand up to get the note on your desk, unfolding it to see an entire script of a poem which was all about how sweet your personality is. you walk back to mark, reading it while he lies his head on your shoulder to read a bit of what he wrote. "'you're so sweet that i can't stop coming back to you as if you're like candy, i take it, i'm the luckiest man in the world because of you, my fancy.'" you read the 3rd line in the 4th stanza, giving mark a little peck after you read it.

mark is the type of boyfriend to definitely rehearse being a husband to you. even though you two may not be ready yet or you can't bring yourselves to commit, he loves to do things a loyal husband would do. would you complain? no, because you loved it when mark would act that way. it's quite silly of him to do that, but trust me, you will need it when the both of you are married.

"good evening, future wifey," mark leans on your doorway while you're putting accessories to your outfit, looking at him once you heard his voice. tonight, mark is taking you out on a date, as part of his "husband rehearsals". he notices you're wearing the yves saint laurent dress mark gave you on your first anniversary, which made him smile and giggle. "looks like you're wearing your favorite dress on our date today, hm?" you nodded, giggling softly. "you truly love rehearsing your husband duties, it's silly." you say, walking to him as you put on your fur coat and kissed him on the lips. "it's not silly when you're gonna need more of me acting like this when we get married."

mark is the type of person who tends to stay with you almost every hour of the day. even when you don't need him, he's gonna be beside you until sunset, he can work with you, or he can cuddle, or he can comfort you while you work. (that's for later) he wants to keep you close to him no matter what, so that he could take care or help you whenever something happens. it's his obligation, and he's happy to take it.

"what... are you doing?" you look up at mark who's massaging your legs, confused and a little startled at the sensations he's giving you. he's right in front of you, trying his best to probably keep you soothed and comfortable while he has nothing to do for the day. you couldn't even make him leave because, you can admit, you loved this. "i know how tired you are after the gala you had with your friends, and i'm trying to soothe you so that you won't feel any more pain walking later. i know you love it, baby." he continues massaging you while you're working, making you giggle as you stared at him. "well, matter of fact... your massages are doing great work."

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blindradiant · 20 hours ago

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How do you feel about your blorbo getting married? My aroace headcanons have gone down the drain

Oh my aroace headcanons are still alive and well. Aroace people can and do get married. I have a lot of thoughts that I’m trying to work out, but here’s what I have so far

First, I think Szeth is solidly sex neutral ace. It’s never his preferred expression of closeness and intimacy, but he’s willing to do it from time to time. He definitely prefers things like hugs, meaningful conversation, and sharing dances though

Second, the way his feelings and thoughts toward Kaladin change over only ten days has convinced me of demiromantic Szeth. It would take time for him to build up to that kind of deep, abiding connection and emotional closeness, but he could get there, especially as he continues to heal, rediscover himself, and grow

Third, I really like that it’s mentioned that the in world KOWT was written/published six years after the events of WaT. That gives demiromantic Szeth plenty of time to get to a place where something like marriage might make sense or feel right to him. It gives plenty of time for a meaningful relationship to form between him and his wife. I’m currently imagining that the wedding happened very shortly before the final edit/publication of the text, so it was like a five and a half year slowburn leading up to it. I’d be a lot more skeptical if it was revealed that the marriage happened within the first year, but since we only know that it happened, that longer timeframe feels most likely to me

I definitely was not expecting this at all, and it did come out of nowhere, but I’m pretty sure I can come up with things that make it feel right for Szeth’s character and the ways his journey might continue after the end of WaT. I’m planning to work out a whole fic/series of fics exploring this, really digging into it, and helping me (and maybe you and other people) grasp the situation

Sorry that was so long lol

Tl.Dr: in my head, Szeth is sex neutral ace and demiromantic, got married like five and a half years after the events of WaT, and there was an entire slowburn leading up to him being ready for and wanting to get married

#ask answered #Wind and Truth spoilers #WaT spoilers #character analysis #Szeth-son-son-Vallano #Masha-daughter-Shaliv #Stormlight Archive #headcanons

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bisexualbrainrots · 2 days ago

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well I did not expect the support the what if it's getting tbh, a bit overwhelming, so here's 2/4 of the bucktommy scenes from 3x09, a steamy little treat for y'all.

1/4 if you want to read it first.

“Oh, fuck,” Buck was breathless when he took Tommy’s shirt off and finally got to take a look at his body. In the almost three years they’ve been working together Evan Buckley had never, not once, seen Tommy without a shirt on (the exception being calendars). It was a bit ridiculous given the amount of times they would all find themselves in the locker rooms or the showers.

Tommy smirked, propped up on his elbows “Like what you see?” Buck would’ve rolled his eyes had this happened before their kiss, but now all he could do was stare at the older’s body, mouth watering.

“Yeah… a lot, actually” he looked up at Tommy, his eyes dark with a lust that made the blue in his pupils almost indistinguishable. Kinard almost moaned at the sight, but he contained himself, gulping hard.

Buck’s eyes were scanning everything: the broad shoulders that Tommy definitely had a hard time fitting into most of his shirts on without stretching them, the strong arms that had carried so many people during emergencies, those huge hands Evan was sure would fit nicely around his neck, the pecs he desperately wanted to bite into, and the abs that seemed to have been carved by gods and not countless hours at the gym.

His gaze went somewhere he’d only heard in stories, mostly by Chimney, but never got to see in real life. It was a mix of pink and red still, even after all those years, and it made Buck’s heart ache from becoming aware of how it could’ve taken him, and that they wouldn’t be in this moment had one thing gone terribly wrong.

Buck’s left hand brushed the tissue gently, like it was this delicate thing, “I heard about the scar before but… I never thought that this was how it looks like, does it, does it still hurt sometimes?”

Tommy thought about it for a second, it has been a while since somebody asked, “Not like before really, I mean, there’s moments of the year where I have to massage it but otherwise— oh” it was like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs the moment Buck’s lips dived in, kissing the scar with such care as if the tissue was going to break any minute. Tommy was squirming, overwhelmed, clearly not expecting Evan to treat him that way.

It didn't get any better when Buck's kisses extended throughout the area, passing through the lines of his abs to his ribs, ascending through his pecs where Tommy moaned when he felt Buck’s teeth sinking in. He writhed when the younger’s tongue licked his neck, sucking a little at the pulse point which made Tommy hold his hands tightly on Buck’s waist, it was surely going to leave marks.

“Evan…” the way he said his name had Buck grunting, grinding down so hard it made both of them sigh.

Tommy chuckled “You love it, don’t you? You love to hear your name out of my mouth, don’t you Evan?” Buck’s only response was to swallow his own moan with Tommy’s mouth, not letting the older prepare for his intruding tongue, who made a similar sound as him in return for the kiss

Buck was grinding frantically, slick chests from the layer of sweat covering them, his knuckles white as they held onto the armrest, he wanted— he needed to get closer to Tommy. He stilled, his hands went down towards Tommy’s belt, shaking a little as he tried to unbuckle it, which made the older stop their heated kiss to hold their hands together, stroking them with his thumbs.

“Do you want me to—?”

“No, I… I want to do it” despite the shakiness of his hands, Buck took no time with the belt and fly, and tapped Tommy’s hip so he would raise them. He gulped hard when he took the jeans and boxers, and almost all of the air in his lungs was out the moment he slid them down, revealing every inch of Tommy to him.

His brain stopped working for a few seconds, which Tommy took notice of and helped him to get rid of the clothes, throwing them aside. The older took Buck’s hands and let them rest on his thighs while the younger settled kneeling between his legs.

Tommy looked at Buck, feeling a little vulnerable since he was the only one fully naked “I know I’m not… perfect, but—”

“You’re gorgeous Tommy, everything about you is,” Buck blurted out, still entranced by the sight of Tommy: a blush rushing to appear on his cheeks and chest, and a glimmer on his eyes. Buck quickly took off his own jeans and threw them somewhere around the living room before reaching to kiss the older’s pelvis as his hands moved towards the inner thighs, and looked at him to make sure he had his approval to continue.

When Tommy nodded, maybe a little too enthusiastically, Buck stopped for a few seconds to bite at the other’s hip, which granted him a whimper and a hand to be placed on his head. He smiled and licked at the bitemarks, trading a few more kisses on the area before his hands reached for Tommy’s cock, one hand handling the balls while the other the shaft.

“I know I don’t have a… frame of reference,” Buck chuckled, looking up at Tommy who was grinning, his eyes looking at the younger with endearment, “But I know what I like so, tell me if there’s anything you want differently”

Tommy bit his lower lip when he felt Buck’s wrist twist, and rested his head on the cushion he had placed on the armrest a few moments ago “Okay, baby”

#911 what if #911 what if s3 #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley

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greenlightbulbonawire · 2 days ago

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Misfits (yeah like the Arcane song) LV.

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Summary: From the dark musty cell of Stillwater all the way to the very base of Firelights, but where to from there? Guess you'll just have to let fate lead you.

Author's note: Another saturday, another chapter. Just a reminder that this is the day when I usually post. For this chapter, I wanted to include a little short animation that's posted on the instagram "playwildrift" cuz it was just too cute not to!! anyway, this ones a little weaker but what can you do. Also happy holidays to anyone reading this, hope yall have a great time!!

previous chapter: /

next chapter: -

masterlist

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Some time passed and still the events of that one night gnawed at you in the back of your mind. It felt weird, for lack of a better word, but not in a bad way. Even though you meant to just get drunk with the boy, like you did a few times before, and try to pull the truth out of him, you felt like what actually happened was even better. The desire to sneak into the kitchen again and bother Lyra with your feelings and what not, you felt like telling her about what happened that night would be invading Ekko’s privacy and that just felt wrong. And so you kept yourself occupied with the only free thing you could do. Well, actually it wasn’t just a few things. You spend time with Fae, strengthening your bond with her and getting her more comfortable in the cage you built for her, because Ekko definitely didn’t do ninety percent of the work.

But you also made sure to be of use to the Firelights, joining various missions, although you did notice a running theme in them. As you saw it, all of the missions you went on, alone or not, involved minimal fighting and mostly just focused on either gathering information, collecting things for the base or taking part in the lookout group. You were almost starting to think that Ekko was keeping you away from the fight on purpose, but who knows. But you weren’t doing only that all the time. So if you weren’t on a mission and couldn’t be found with Fae either, then you were helping in the kitchen and listening to Lyra rand to you about whatever was on their mind, or you were playing with the kids.

One day, Heimerdinger set his mind on making some sort of a gadget, no one except him had the slightest idea what it was even supposed to be, and no one could pry him away from his desk.To be perfectly honest, all of his creations seemed extremely random too. You were here for the whole thing and watched the professor successfully blow up multiple creations with the kids at your side, in your lap, or sitting on your shoulders doing the same as you, all of you sitting on some wooden stairs nearby. Here and there someone hid behind you as another machine exploded and you could do nothing but chuckle at it. Ekko stopped by, exchanging a few words with you and the kids, before he settled down with another group of youngsters on a pile of boxes nearby and the kids gave you teaseful looks.

By the afternoon, Heimerdinger had brought a table and a chair into the open and his unsuccessful creations piled atop of each other next to the table. Finally, Heimerdinger came with another one of his gadgets and set it down onto the ground. The kids walked over to it and Scar’s eldest daughter, Vesp, grabbed your hand, making you come with them. A few of the braver or more curious children started to mess with it, turning the creation on. Ekko was now by the professor's side as Heimerdinger leaned back in his chair, his legs on the table. The machine started to shake and make weird noises. You instinctively put your hand in front of the kids, fully expecting another loud noise followed by a small fire and bits of the gadget flying in various directions while you gave Ekko a worried look. (little note: Vesp comes from vespertilio, which is latin for bat :P)

But much to your and everyone's surprise, after a few moments of nothing happening, which you previously interpreted as the quiet before the storm, the professors creation, oddly too similar looking to a species of little fluffy animals you saw in the undercity here and there, the creatures horns opened and bubbles flew out of while it started to move around. You relaxed and lowered your hands as the kids ran with the machine. “I like your style, professor.” Ekkos voice fell into the background as the kids giggled and shouted at each other, running around as the bubbles filled the air. Vesp was still holding your hand so you had no choice but to join the kids in their shenanigans. But nonetheless you did register Ekkos words, and you couldn’t help but smile at them a little and shake your hand and when you looked back at him, he was smiling back at you. Or more likely, at the whole scene.

Not only was it a great workout to run around with them, but you felt like you were a kid yourself in that moment, which was a rare occasion since in your mind, you stopped being a kid the moment your parents sent you to work for Silco. From time to time, one of the children would ask you to carry them on your shoulders or for you to spin them around for god knows what reason, but it was fun and you were strong enough for it to be easy to do so, therefore there was no reason for you to say no. Finally released from your torture, you made your way over to the wooden stairs with red top again and sat down, trying to make it seem like you weren’t desperately catching your breath at all. Heimerdinger came to join you at your side and Ekko flew off to god knows where. “You seem to have an easy time bonding with the children, that’s a great skill to have.” You chuckled at his words and shook your head in disagreement, although his choice of words, making a normal conversation seem so philosophical and professional could never not amuse you. “I wouldn’t say it like that, but yeah, I guess I’m just fun to be around.”

#arcane #ekko #ekko arcane #ekko league of legends #ekko x reader #arcane ekko x reader #arcane rewritten #did i mention ekko?#ekko arcane x reader #Spotify

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yridenergyridenergy · 2 days ago

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People seem to forget that crossdressing in more common in the Japanese entertainment industries, from acting (like plays) and even musicians. And it's obvious in visual kei bands; men dress like women, and women dress like men. Based on the bands I've been following for my entire life. I could understand if people could be confused if their appearance can be too convincing for people to believe that, like the men who have the feminity to portray as a woman.

But, just because they dress a certain way, doesn't mean they're queer. That's not fair to be labeled the labels you aren't just because of bizarre rumors.

And I do know that they are queer musicians in Asia too, most of them are private about their sexualities though. But there are queer musicians in Japan.

And, to my knowledge, Dir En Grey members really are men who love dressing up in different fashion.

I do believe Kyo, Toshiya and Shinya are hetero just because I remember some stories they mentioned.. I know Shinya said in an extremely old interview, is that he wouldn't consider himself a man until he's a father with a woman he loves (or similar wording to that). But that's an old interview, not sure how he is now about that idea. And as for Kyo and Toshiya, in this situation, are supporters of queer communities but are heterosexual. They also mentioned in a very old interview that they were walking home together from the studio, or I think was the studio or maybe a restaurant.. Something like that. And drag queens at a gay bar wanted Kyo and Toshiya to come in but they walked away. Something like that happened.

Oh! And one of the hoodies Kyo wore was also nods to respecting the queer communities too.. So, there is that too. Kyo's definitely a supporter to them.

Die and Kaoru are more private about themselves.

Sorry for responding to this a couple of days late. I didn't even expect that previous Ask to generate so much discussion, so maybe some of the stuff you mentioned was already brought up.

I definitely think that people like Kyo more than supports LGBTQ, probably more of an ally and advocate.

Anyway, overall I stand by the principle that we can only go by what they have personally announced or confirmed, which is not much at this point. Apparently this whole debate stemmed from some people arguing with fans about their opinions as if they were facts, but I never personally witnessed that.

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corishadowfang · 2 days ago

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Ephemer Week Day 3

Prompt: Heart | Home | Do you have any headcanons for him?

"Home is where the heart is," or something like that.

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“Hey. What was your guys’ lives like? Before you came here, I mean.”

Ephemer wasn’t sure what time it was at this point. After midnight, definitely. The sky was still dark out, the Foretellers’ Chambers similarly dim, and all of them—even Brain—had drooping eyes, even if most of them had been too stubborn to actually fall asleep. (Lauriam had been the exception; he had fallen face-first into a pillow and gone to sleep almost immediately. Ephemer had half-joked that they should draw something on his face; only Ven’s puppy-dog eyes had saved him.)

Skuld hummed, blinking sleepily at Ven’s question. She was still sitting up, a blanket around her shoulders, but was wobbly enough that it looked like she could fall asleep at any moment. Still, her answer was clear enough: “Busy. I had a big family—we were always doing something.”

“Lucky,” Ephemer said. “I wish I had a big family. It was always just me and my Dad.”

“It’s not as exciting as you’d think.” She folded her arms across her knees, pillowing her head against them. “Mostly we just got into trouble.”

Brain snorted. “Never would’ve guessed.”

“What about you, then?” Skuld countered.

“Doesn’t matter.”

Skuld threw a pillow at him, eliciting a noise of protest.

Ephemer snorted, but turned to Ven, who was watching the growing ‘conflict’ with a bemused expression. “Why d’you ask?”

“Oh, uh—no reason. Just thinking.”

A pillow flew by Ephemer’s face. He blinked, then scooted back a little, closer to Ven and out of range. Sitting next to him, he could see the almost melancholy look on the younger Union Leader’s face.

Ven squirmed, like he was aware he was being studied, and wasn’t sure how he felt about it. “It’s just—everybody came from somewhere. Before Daybreak Town, I mean. It’s just—I wondered.”

It felt like there was something more that he wasn’t saying, and it prompted Ephemer to ask, “Do you miss it?”

Ven started.

“I—don’t think I miss it as much as I should.” It was an admission that bothered him a bit, but it was true; even when he’d been little, he’d always been ready to jump into the next adventure. Never sitting still, never willing to stay home for longer than it took to go out again. His dad had lamented that he was ‘going to disappear into the woods chasing fairies.’ He guessed, in a way, he’d been right. “I always wanted to see what else was out there. There’s a lot we don’t know, and I wanted to figure out everything. When I found out about Daybreak Town, I didn’t even really hesitate. ‘Head toward the rising sun, and you’ll find a town made for children on the edge of the world.’ Who could ignore that?”

He remembered when Daybreak Town had been nothing more than another mystery to solve. It had offered so much more than anything he’d ever known—the Keyblades and the Heartless and the Foretellers and Daybreak Town’s existence itself. He’d gone off with barely a goodbye, and poked and prodded at Daybreak Town’s mysteries until—

Until.

(He wondered, sometimes, on his darkest nights, what had happened to them—the people outside of Daybreak Town. Were they still alive out there? Was his dad?

…Did he have any idea of what had become of his son?)

“…I don’t miss it, either.”

Ephemer started, drawn out of his thoughts by Ven’s quiet admission. The younger Union Leader looked almost guilty, but he didn’t take the words back.

“Hey!”

That wasn’t a voice Ephemer had expected to hear, and he and Ven both turned to see Lauriam very suddenly awake, glaring at a nervous-looking Brain and Skuld, pillow gripped in both hands.

“Ephemer?” Skuld asked, tentative. “Ven?”

“Good luck!” Ephemer chirped, and got a brief look of betrayal before it disappeared behind a pillow.

Ven laughed, and Ephemer laughed with him, something lightening in his chest, despite the late hours. This is…probably closer to home than my old one was, he thought, but didn’t say. His chest ached at the thought, but it was true; he couldn’t imagine leaving Daybreak Town anymore, or losing any of the people here. They meant more to him than anything.

(And maybe—maybe he did still wish that he hadn’t been so quick to leave his old home and family behind. But he couldn’t go back; not now.

He’d just have to do better by this one.)

#ephemerweek2024 #ephemer week 2024 #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts fanfic #my writing

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casmick-consequences · 13 days ago

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gonna call it right now. nandermo is not gonna be canon and all nandermo fans are gonna feel the exact feelings that johnlock fans felt with the sherlock finale. i've been queerbaited one too many times to have any hope for the last episode :D

#it's gonna be that EXACT SAME feeling #except in this case it really IS queerbaiting #or more accurately SHIPbaiting #johnlock couldve still been argued for but NANDERMO??? honey i don't think so #wwdits #what we do in the shadows #nandor the relentless #guillermo de la cruz #could it happen? sure. do i expect it to? definitely not #there would've been better buildup if it was #i'm glad i didnt get TOO into wwdits while its been going on #just getting snippets here and there #but i'm done obsessing over ships that have no chance lol it's just a waste of time

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icewindandboringhorror · 8 months ago

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boy in silly sitting positions compilation

#cats #I especially like the last one where he just has one single paw poking out of that box for some reason lol #I still have costumes to post and like a billion other things.... grr... constantly failing at staying active on social media aughh #I think because currently my Main Focus is on trying to get my game done and stuff.. which basically just means sitting and writing all day #so there's not much to post about. Though I know the Good At Social Media thing to do would be to post about the #writing and share progress and talk about the game and characters or whatever to try to build interest or something but that is SOOO weird #to me.. I could maybe get it if it was like a tiny tiny discord groupchat of playtesters with like 5 people in #it.. But something about talking openly about things before they happen is weird to me?? Like presumptuous feeling or something #''oooo guess whats gonna happen LATER!!!'' like.. how do you know.. what if it doesnt. what if you dont finish it. what if its not the way #you think it's going to be. what if something changes. etc. Like I literally avoid movie trailers and game trailers for the same reason ghj #Even if it's not ME doing it it just feels... weird.. Maybe it has to do with my OCD and how I just don't like talking about ''future''#things in Certain Terms. Like if I was going to say ''Oh yeah sure. come over to my house in a few months''. I would have to follow it up #with like ''HOPEFULLY you can come over to my house in a few months'' or 'They'll come over in a few months MOST LIKELY''. Because just #stating that something will happen matter of factly takes for granted like.. what if somehting horrible happens and I DONT have a house #in a few months? or what if something bad happens to me. or to the person coming over? I can't ever DEFINITELY say with 100% certainty #that one could ACTUALLY come to my house in a few months. anything could change. So I have to allot for that in my phrasing. hbjjkn #There are a lot of situations where you're expected to just Assume Things but for some reason that bothers me. My brain literally does not #even Assume the most basic things.. like how do *I* know that just because it's someones birthday that they want to be wished a happy #birthday? what if they dont? everyone is different and has different preferences. I should check with them first. or wait until they public #ly announce that theyre accepting birthday wishes. I have to allot for all 5034859069 rare possibilities at any given time and never take #anything for certain. etc. ghjbjhbh.... ANYWAY.. I have been feeling a bit sick lately as usual.. but still slowly making progress on some #things. Moslty I need to edit costume photos. make sculptures. and work on the game. Going back reading some of the old writing from like #2018 and suprisingly I don't have to change that much of it? In fact I like it mostly. so that's good. I would be very interested if I were #playing the game myself. Though that doesnt mean much since my tastes are so niche lol..#Still really want to clear some of my million tumblr drafts as well... alas and aughh and ooughh and so on and so forth. Between all of my #evil appointments other such things...why cant I have one billion dollar to retire into relaxed hermit artist life of no stressors.. bleas

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chocosvt · 5 months ago

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hi choco! i'm so excited to see you back on my tl; i've missed you and your god-tier fics & i'm super duper excited to read your wonwoo fic as well (140k words? we will all be well fed fr 🤲)

i had a little rant? not exactly rant but something that's been itching my mind a bit haha, i hope you don't mind me sharing it with you! i genuinely want some advice over this.

as a long fic writer, how do you consistently come back to writing your fic without getting bored? i looooove writing long fics too (big lover of slowburn and angst lol) but i always get so impatient and bored of writing the story so quickly :(

i'd posted a teaser for a fic a while back and it got a good amount of traction (something i will always be grateful for) and someone asked me when i would release the full fic, to which i gave them a tentative date. fast forward to the day before the day i said i would post the fic and you have me typing out paragraphs upon paragraphs of stuff that i absolutely loathe in my writing. i ended up posting the fic anyway, but it's been only a day and i already want to take it down—not bc it's not getting any attention, because it is, but more so bc i hate that fic and would do anything to rewrite it.

iirc your joshua fic, 'best friend's brother' was a rewrite of a fic you'd written earlier, right? was your thought process similar to this? where did you start your rewriting process from? did you have any second thoughts when you took it down the first time?

i'm really sorry if this is too many questions 😅 please take your time if you do choose to answer this! much love and have a great day, choco!!! thank you so much :)

(is it alright if i use an emoji to sign off so i can find this ask later?)

— 🍫

first of all, THANK U SO MUCH <3

and i don't mind at all! these are rly insightful questions :o though i'll just chunk my answers a bit so i'm not all over the place.

not getting bored to be honest, i'm not sure if i ever "get bored" of writing out the plot. but i definitely get burnt out, and sometimes i get downright sick of reviewing my own writing, to the point where i just have to close my laptop and walk away. i think the most important & overarching piece of advice i can give--not just in terms of long fics but any fic for that matter--is to never force anything & take breaks!

when i'm busy at uni, there are like 5 month breaks where i don't bother writing at all. i always think that the second i have free time, i should theoretically want to write, but sometimes i just don't. and i make peace with it bc i know the second i force anything i will end up hating it (also takes the fun & enjoyment out of the process).

i think if you're getting bored, it's probably a sign that your body & mind just isn't interested in writing at the moment. so i would step away & take a break and attempt to get your mind off the plot. i think that taking a break also invigorates your mind a bit and gives you newer, better ideas (at least from my experience).

bfb rewrite the reason i rewrote best friend's brother was bc the og fic was from 2016, when my writing style was completely different. i still liked the concept but naturally, as my writing grew, i just detested the way the old ver was written, which spurred me to create the rewrite.

i wanted to give the characters a lot more depth & beef up the plot, so the new fic is actually a lot different in comparison to the old one. i wasn't attempting to do a scene-for-scene rewrite--it was simply just my approach to an old concept that i felt i could now execute better.

as to how i went abt rewriting it, i just picked out moments from the old fic that i liked and built around them. for instance, i rly liked the "skipping stones" scene that shows some intimacy & tenderness between joshua and reader. but it can't just happen out the gate. so i had to figure out the typical "why, when, and how is this moment happening right now?" from scratch.

the thing with long fics for me, it honestly is a test of patience & dedication!! bc it can truly be so frustrating :( a lot of times, you want to jump right into the good parts bc those are like the shiny glimmers that make the fic attractive. but depending on how impactful you want those moments to be, build-up is sooooo key! the thing is, build-up is just so critical in my opinion, but it can also be such a pain to write :p

i find when i review my writing, these are scenes i criticize or change the most--more than the big, hard-hitting scenes. bc to me, it's such a specific thing that you have to nail down justttt right. it's a lot of thinking and finagling and i think this process is what i dread the most? especially when it refuses to turn out how you want it--ugh, so discouraging!! but once you get it's like a silky flowy river!!

the big takeaways (i guess?) 1. taking breaks is so important! 2. don't force anything xxxx 3. take the big moments & build around them i totallyyyyy understand your frustration!! there have been so many moments where i'm like I NEED TO WRITE AHHHHH and then i promptly open the document only to sit there, blankly read a few sentences, and then get this rly big sinking feeling in my gut that is essentially telling me "never mind" and honestly i just listen to it bc if i'm gonna close & open the document 10 times in a row i obviously don't want to write. i'm just searching for something fulfilling and clearly not finding it in the task at hand so i should do smth else.

THIS IS EXTREMELY LENGTHY AND I''M BEYOND SORRY, but i hope somewhere amongst this mumbo jumbo there was something that stood out & may give you a bit of closure!

#i thought i could answer this in like 10 minuutes #it's been half an hour 😭#i rly had my thinking cap on for this #n: 🍫#x: moonbeam #t: choco's letters #OMG SOMETHING else i thought of when i reread your ask #if you do struggle to write consistently or have trouble seeing fics through to completion (i'm exactly like this unfortunately)#then i would suggest not providing release dates ?#i think this definitely adds pressure and strips away the fun of writing #i understand that it's like the readers have an almost tangible idea of when to expect new work #so that might keep them more engaged #but if it's proving to be detrimental to your writing process then perhaps it's not worth it to give the writing a date #also like... life very much so happens whether we want it to or not and can easily get in the way #and i'm sure your readers will understand!!#like when i wrote bfb 2.0 i posted the preview in may #THEN DIDN'T POST THE ACTUAL FIC UNTIL ALMOST A YEAR LATER I FELT SO AWFUL ABT IT #so i was likeeee okayyyy that's the last time i post a teaser without actually having the damn thing written #bc like... what if i never even finished it lmao

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