#i live in awe of authors who can write even one book. let alone this many that are THIS good

[titsthedamnseason]

tell me why i was minding my own business and having a fun time watching this tiktok about the cosmere and then this guy drops that all these books im reading are ONLY THE FIRST HALF? AND THERE ARE ALLEGEDLY ~20 MORE BOOKS TO COME? IS THIS TRUE?

[zombie-bait]

The Death of a Vampire

Lestat as a protagonist just works so incredibly well and a very significant aspect of that is him being Anne Rice's self-insert. Lived experience can be critical when it comes to writing a good story and many memorable novels will feature elements of that. Anne is built different, though. Lestat (book 2 onwards) is basically Anne's journal for dealing with her grievances and trauma, which, on its own, is a very questionable method of writing. More often than not, it causes him to be characterized inconsistently between books because Anne's own opinions have changed. But it also makes him so real.

You follow his struggles with religion, you see him yearn for forgiveness from a god that has seemingly abandoned him a long time ago and you feel it. The passage I will never get over is in the early chapters of The Vampire Lestat, when Lestat has a breakdown over his mother's (and frankly his own) mortality. He struggles and he cries and he can't get out of bed because there's nothing he can do. Eventually he starts to live again, forces himself to.

But.

"I wandered into the church and on my knees I leaned against the wall and I looked at the ancient statues and I felt the same gratitude looking at the finely carved fingers and the noses and the ears and the expressions on their faces and the deep folds in their garments, and I couldn’t stop myself from crying. At least we had these beautiful things, I said. Such goodness. But nothing natural seemed beautiful to me now! The very sight of a great tree standing alone in a field could make me tremble and cry out. Fill the orchard with music. And let me tell you a little secret. It never did pass, really."

I think about those last two sentences a lot. I think about them even more since Anne Rice passed away.

Every page of Interview is spent talking about death and yet (imo) it's only in TVL that you really feel it. Louis in book 1 welcomes death quite readily because, besides his toxic boyfriend and their traumatized daughter, he doesn't have much to live for. He's basically given up by the time Lestat appears. The greatest torture, to Louis, is the knowledge that he can live forever on the suffering of others.

But Lestat is the complete opposite. He wants to listen to music, to explore Paris, to perform on any stage that will take him, to embrace the man he loves and to send his ailing mother letters of his accomplishments. Death matters most to those who are desperate to live and god is he desperate. He's haunted by his mother's sickness, by the wolves on the mountain that threaten to end his life before he's even lived it, the witches place that reeks of meaningless suffering. And in a way, the dark gift provides opportunity to escape that. But it is still death. It takes away Nicki in a very literal way and takes away his mother in a more personal one. Magnus, like death, chose Lestat arbitrarily. He sees the cellar of blonde corpses and knows that he was only one of dozens to meet an untimely death with no explanation.

Lestat also really wants you to know that he is, truly, a good person. He must be. He swears to only hunt criminals and then goes back on that two pages later. He reshapes stories to present himself as the noble protagonist and the audience has no choice but to believe him. He wants, desperately, to be loved for all that he is, man and monster. He wants to be the hero.

He's this awful, fascinating, very human man so clearly born out of the internal struggle to find meaning and love in a cruel, unpredictable world we all tend to share. He's made up of incredibly basic and powerful human desires hidden behind a mask of bravado and I can't recalling seeing another protagonist like him.

(Quick mention: This isn't some kind of "wow Anne Rice is an incredible author who can do no wrong" piece. She's written a lot of fucked up and bad shit that cannot be easily brushed over. But I don't think I'll ever get over reading TVL for the first time. To read someone bare their soul in such a way creates a truly unique experience. A lot of characters in a lot of pieces of media face death, but it's rare to see a character face mortality in such a personal way.)

(Also odds are I've written similar posts to this before but shhhhh these sad gay vampires are all I have)

[taranida]

The first (probably? maybe?) book Alan Wake forgot he had written

Always, Alan, always.

Alright, in my last post I left a few questions unanswered and I want to clear them up one by one. I honestly didn’t believe that so many people would read the theory, and am very grateful for the attention it has received. This whole blog was created to write down everything my brain (and my dear fellow theorist J) cooked up after playing and replaying AW, AWAN, Control and AWII, and I would like to sort it all by writing about each point in details. It helps to make it make sense and notice the holes.

Now, let’s cut to the chase. The first point I mentioned last time was:

in the guide for the first game we can read excerpts from the book “Taken by the Dark Presence” found in a shoebox that has no author, but has initials of T.Z. and J.Z. on some pages, apparently written in the late 1960’s. And, oh boy, I have lots of questions for this one!

I will lay out what I’ve found and then my thoughts about it, and also how it all ties to “who wrote what”, because the buzzing question of “who wrote whom”is not something I’m interested in exploring atm. At least not until I will deal with the whole “Thomas ‘Tom’ Zane” mystery.

So, the book from the shoebox titled “Taken by the Dark Presence”. It’s filled with tips and tricks about enemies that we encounter on Alan’s journey and how to deal with them. Obviously, there is a lot of info, but I’ve chosen bits that are important for my purposes. Here are those excerpts from it:

It is stated, as you can see, in the introduction to this section of the guide, that focuses on fighting the Taken and Poltergeists, that the information is drawn from the book of an unknown writer, who composed it in the late 1960, with a little hint of initials and a huge hint of the POV being Thomas Zane’s: “corporeal form is my Barbara. My dear, sweet love.”

It does go against my theory of Thomas spending a week with Barbara-the-Dark-Presence in the cabin, not going outside to face Taken; after all, the info there is a text book of “tell me it was written by Thomas Zane without telling it”. If not for mentioning the Dark Presence wearing Barbara’s skin, it would be fine on that account; we have strong evidence that Taken were lurking around even before Thomas wrote his piece to bring Barbara back. Yes, Robert “The Colonel” Hambleton’s article will be repeated here:

And the end result of the poor writer’s visit:

All point to Thomas actually being in the midst of fighting and fleeing, although I cannot even start guessing for what and from what, I will again stress out two pieces of information that point to the Dark Presence playing the role of the loving Barbara, as it was written by Thomas:

And Cynthia’s words:

“The witch looked like her, but it wasn’t. Barbara was sweet. He didn’t understand until it was too late. He tried to undo it, wrote himself, her, everything he’d ever written out of the world.”

Thomas, as we can guess, didn’t understand who hid behind Barbara’s face for some time, and, when he did, was free to tie her, carve her heart out and write this secret poem, mentioned in “This House of Dreams”, that allowed him to escape, giving up his body to the Bright Presence, and drag the real Barbara’s essence (soul, spirit) with what was left of him into a safe heaven, their personal paradise. So, why would he run into the forest and fight bulldozers and Taken?

He didn’t. There is one little thing that makes this book’s author surely not Thomas — the flashbangs. I’m in no way a weapon enthusiast, let alone, specialist, but I’m alright with search engines. As far as the history of this particular grenade goes, it was invented by the British Army in the late 70s and adopted by the US some years later. Thomas Zane, who lived only till 1970, couldn’t have knowledge, let alone, this very item on his hands at the time. Yet it’s clearly stated in the book: “flashbang attacks if possible” and “coax numerous enemies around you, and then drop a flashbang”. In the first game even Alan is surprised to find this weapon not in the police cars:

And he lives in 2010, when flashbangs are already a known weapon, although, as I understand are not so easily obtained by civilians (if not at all; I’m not from US and can rely only on the info from the internet). It seems as if this particular bunch of flashbang-nades was placed there by some otherworldly means.

Taking all that, my belief is that “Taken by the Dark Presence” is a book written into reality by Alan — to help him on his journey — after he decided to make himself a protagonist in the story the Dark Presence was forcing him to write. Through the “Writer in the Cabin” TV’s we see how he slowly changes his stance on his “editor”, how he realises that something is wrong and he must change the story, giving himself the best chance to survive to save Alice (and not to plunge the world into eternal darkness preferably). That will also explain the J.Z. initials on the pages of the book: Alan, during that week, was not thinking clearly and could just mess names up.

As a side note, I’m extremely new to tumblr and have no idea how people here get into conversations, for me the comment section is the way to go, but I see rebloggs with tags or ideas I would love to discuss and have no clue what to do with them. I would highly appreciate if anyone who wants to add something or chat about a post to make themselves known in the comments as well. Or a message; both are great.

[strangestcase]

Ok so in regards to That Awful Fic, You Know The One, I’ve realized that a babified, dumbed down Hyde that doesn’t get to kill not only contradicts Hyde’s characterization in the original Novella, but also his characterization (AND reason for being) in League of Extraordinary Gentlemen -both the comics and the movie-… which is ironic since That Awful Fic is supposed to be a riff of LXG, and the author is currently writing for an LXG AU supposedly written to fix the issues with the comics in which their god-awful, ableist take on Hyde appears to be the one in the League

and this is because:

Hyde being a dangerous, violent murderer is the reason he is in the League in the first place. In the comics, the League is recruited by the British Empire, so there is a certain level of commentary on a story in which the goverment knowingly hires a mutated, cannibalistic version of Jack the Ripper to use as a living weapon. In the movie, the League is a ploy by Moriarty, and Hyde is recruited so that Dorian can spy on him and present Moriarty both with the serum and information about him, so that Hyde’s state can be reversed engineered and used to create super-soldiers. If Hyde isn’t all that dangerous, why is he there?

Hyde being intelligent is an important plot point in both the comics and the movie. In LXG, Hyde is portrayed as he is in the book: governed by animal instinct, yet with the reasoning skills, intellect, and knowledge of an upper-class scientist, because that’s what he is. Without his intelligence, LXG Hyde would absolutely useless- unable to negotiate the terms of his recruitment with the League, unable to put his instincts behind when he needs to think clearly, unable to improvise plans (much quicker than the average human!) if he has to. Sure, the League wants him for his superhuman strength and enhanced senses, but him being much MUCH smarter than he looks is, literally, a key point in his characterization in the LXG franchise. Taking that away is a step down from Moore and Robinson’s scripts, and makes the claim that That One Fic is depicting Hyde “better” than most movies (and particularly the LXG movie) not hold any water (other than being rather ableist, keeping in mind they only do that because Hyde is a “child” in their eyes… my guys he’s over 50).

In a meta sense, Hyde not being evil or dangerous enough, portrayed as a spineless coward (I’d say he is a coward but not a spineless one lmao, it’s literally in the OG book, he has more of a spine than Jekyll could ever dream of) defeats the purpose of Hyde being a character in LXG in the first place. In the comics, he’s the let’s say token evil teammate… though he does share that title with Griffin and to a lesser extent with Nemo (who, despite being the villain of 20k, was right, you know). But in volume 2 Griffin betrays the team and Hyde becomes the sole villain-in-the-good-guys-side. In the movie it’s a bit more extreme since Griffin, due to a copyright dispute with Universal, had to be replaced by a new character, Skinner, who is nowhere near as messed up as book!Griffin or comics!Griffin, with Dorian Gray as the traitor- making Hyde alone in being a villain in a heroic team again. Even then, the point of LXG, at least in the comics, was to spoof the idea of a crossover superhero team like Avengers or the JLA- Moore makes the thesis that putting characters that have very different backgrounds and moral alignments in a goverment-backed contingency team is a recipe for disaster, and the “the Empire has trouble distinguishing its heroes from its monsters” line drives the point home. The British Empire was awful, Moore says, they’d gladly have goddamn Edward Hyde of all people work for them and get his hands dirty for them. I do agree that the comics. Dropped the ball hard on the satire but (gestures) Hyde was awful in them for a reason. You don’t have to like it but the reason is there.

The magic in Hyde’s interaction with the League (in the movie, which I like so so so SO MUCH better than the comics!!) is that he’s upfront about being a monster, and willing to latch on to the team like a lost puppy the INSTANT he notices they begin to see him as the human being with feelings that he is. The other members still have their demons, and I’d say the only character that is 100% a hero in their source material is Mina- Hyde is at least honest about his issues, because he literally can’t hide them- he was made to embody them. I don’t know- stripping Hyde of all the traits that made him a scary, compelling villain in the first place is already bad writing if we’re talking OG book fanfiction, but to put that watered down Hyde (the extreme ableism in his depiction aside) in an LXG inspired writing project is like writing an Avengers comic in which you make Bruce Banner a calm, collected, healthy person that doesn’t know jack shit about radiation, and claim you did “better” at writing him than the 2012 movie because you didn’t like that Hulk wasn’t grey like in the first comic! Hmph!

Anyway rant over

[lyxthen]

So I kinda was struck by inspiration thanks to this post and I ended up writing it in like, an hour? It's not revised or anything so be ready for awful grammar and typos etc etc but I could not stop myself.

Have fun with this short fic (?)

The first time it happened it was a joke. 

He was chiding Maya from stealing a candy bar from the convenience store as they walked back to their shared apartment. She was not listening, of course, too busy chewing on her sweet loot to mind his words. 

“There's no fixing you, is there?”

“Nope,” she said, crumpling the wrapper in her fist and putting it in her pocket. At least she had the decency not to litter. “What are you gonna do about it? Ground me?”

“You know, I might as well. I'm taking away your ramen privileges.”

Maya snorted. 

“Yeah, okay dad.”

“So you're admitting I have authority over you?”

“Hey man, don't let it get to your head. You don't have the heart to deny me anything, anyway.”

She was right, of course, but he wasn't going to be the one to tell her that. 

-.-.-.-.-

The second time it happened it was an accident, but it wasn't too surprising. After all, he could vividly remember that one time he had accidentally called his grade school teacher ‘mom’ in front of the whole class. Everyone made fun of him for that the week that followed, and only Miles had the decency to stop himself from chuckling every time it came up.

Children slipped up like that sometimes. It was normal.

“Dad!”

Maya and Pearls had just gotten back from spending their weekend in Kurain, as they often did. The little girl threw herself into her arms while her cousin cackled. “You did not just call Nick dad.”

Pearls turned around, blushing. “Sorry! I'm sorry, Mr. Nick.” 

He patted her back sympathetically.

“It's fine, Pearls. Happens to the best of us.”

It did not slip past him that Pearl did not have a father, and if she had decided, however subconsciously, that he would be the one to fill that role, who was Phoenix to contradict her? 

-.-.-.-.-

The third time it made him cry. 

To be fair, he was already crying before it happened. The last few weeks had been a lot to deal with. Not only had he lost his job, the thing he had dedicated his life to doing, he had also become the adoptive father of a very traumatized eight year old child. She was still getting used to this new state of affairs, acting shy around him, even though she was clearly happy to be a part of his small family now. 

They had finished with dinner, and Phoenix had gone to his room to sleep after putting Trucy to bed. Despite his best efforts, however, his mind was set on keeping him awake and miserable. 

That's when he heard the door opening. 

“Are you alright?” the girl asked shyly and worriedly, crawling into his bed as he sobbed. “I heard you…”

“I'm sorry,” he whispered back, feeling ashamed of himself for waking her up. He had to be strong for her, not the other way around.

“It's alright, daddy. I was having a nightmare. Can I stay with you tonight?”

Daddy. He smiled, just faintly.

“Of course you can, Truce. Come ‘ere.”

They passed the night together, curled up against each other like kittens. He wrapped his arms around her, as though that alone could keep her safe from nightmares and all the other evils of the world. 

Maybe his old purpose in life had been shattered, but right then he knew that he would dedicate his heart to her, as long as they lived.

-.-.-.-.-

“Son, I know you love to work, and I am more than happy to pay you overtime, but you need to take a break.”

Apollo looked up from the computer screen with deep bags under his eyes and a confused expression. “I'm not working.”

“Yes you are. Who on earth would willingly spend their time consulting books on…” he squinted a bit, trying to make out the words on the screen. “Right of succession? Are you serious?”

“You never know when it can come in handy. It's fun, I mean, will partition often make a good motive for murder.”

“Apollo. You need to go to sleep.”

“Fine, whatever you say, dad.”

He closed the window on the computer as though he didn't just refer to his boss as his father. Phoenix grinned, unable to hide his amusement. 

“Say that again.”

It took Apollo a few moments to figure it out. He was really tired. When he finally did, he covered his face in embarrassment, groaning. “I will not.”

“Yes you will. I just won myself twenty bucks.”

“You had a bet going on?”

“Yeah, with Edgeworth. He owes me twenty dollars now."

“You had a bet with prosecutor Miles Edgeworth over me calling you dad?”

Apollo looked like he wanted to dig a hole in the ground and lay down to take a very long nap there. Adorable little man. He ruffled his hair, to the boy’s immense annoyance. He would normally have gone on a rant about professionalism in the workplace, but right now his brain was too drowsy to argue against it. 

“Yes we did and I just won.”

“Whatever. I'm going home.”

When Apollo left the office, the first thing he did was to text Trucy. It was pretty late, but she was a whole teenager now, and bedtime had gone from an obligation to a suggestion, at least on the weekends. “You will not believe what just happened.”

-.-.-.-.-

The fifth time, ironically enough, it was not Phoenix the one being called dad. 

“I know that bluffing your way through things is your calling card… But your credibility just called and told me to tell you to ‘put a sock in it.’”

“Yes, daddy…”

Shit. His subordinates would never let him live this one down, would they? Trucy looked at him with a sinister glint in her eyes from the audience. 

Oh yeah. It was all over for him. 

Finally, a fic idea that comes to me that isn’t at least a little fucking sad. Anyway 6 or 7+1 formatted fic of practically every character younger than Phoenix accidentally calling him dad and him very quickly getting used to it.

By the time Apollo and Athena come along, he’s not even phased by it, he was counting down the days until it happened, he had a bet with Trucy and Edgeworth over when it would happen.

[books-and-catears]

Hi! If requests are open could i request the brothers with a teen MC who's stressed about school?

When they come home they immediately throw themselves to bed, they often have headaches, they become more cold and distant, they often have a hard time submitting homework on time and they're not as lively as they originally were. How would the brothers comfort them?

I'm so fucking tired rn, i know it's the last month (even tho It's more like 15 days) but my teachers are starting a new important project where we have to host an EVENT along with our exam that is coming up in a week. And we're in fucking highschool-

Aw I think I accidentally opened my asks again but I read this and I relate so much to this; I needed this as much as you. Being a student is too hard sometimes. *hugs* Sorry sweetie you must be so exhausted too?

I'll definitely write this. I apologize if it's a bit short but thank you so much for this ask. I'll try and do my best okay?

Exam season has just rolled out in Devildom and Diavolo had recently announced that the Exchange students will not have a reduced syllabus and have to study like the rest of the demons, to get a better understanding of their culture and history. This sudden increase in work hasn't been easy on you.

Lucifer

He notices something off with you when you stop telling him leave his paperwork and get some rest. These days it seems he has to pull you away from your work.

He can see how dull and lifeless your eyes look as you try to politely sit through meals with everyone.

"MC do you have some time to talk?" He asks you one day in the middle of homework. "I'm a little busy Lucifer maybe later. I still have finish three more these essays." Wow how the tables turn.

He was planning to have tea with you, but as you usually leave the tea near him when he's working, he did the same. "Don't worry MC I'll take care of this." He whispers to himself.

You're only a child, why are you being so overworked? This is ridiculous. Immediately takes it up with Diavolo and the authorities at school to make sure you're not given more than you can handle.

Mammon

What do you mean you're not up for movie night? Again? This is the fifth time you've denied him. Mammon starts getting worried about you.

At first he's afraid that maybe you're only mad at him so he asks his brothers who you are spending time with. You are nowhere to be found in any of their rooms.

He reaches your room and finds you curled up in bed, groaning in pain, holding your head. "MC what's wrong?" You manage to squeak out, "Head hurts." It looks really bad from the way you're wincing.

He goes into panic overdrive, going up to Satan and Lucifer, even ringing up Solomon for headache cures. After you get a little better, he found out that it's school stress that's doing this to you.

Godamnit Diavolo! Why would you think it's okay to send a little human to Demon school? They work differently don't they. He will volunteer to do most of your work at school- even though he forgets his own.

Leviathan

Levi was excitedly waiting for you to show up to play his new game. It was the usual routine for you to come back from school, freshen up and then join him gaming four days a week. But you haven't showed up. For the third time this week.

He keeps texting and calling you but don't reply. At first he thinks it's because he's a yucky otaku but then he notices you aren't even getting his messages. So he ventures out of his room and finds you in yours.

You were fast asleep in your uniform, your phone switched off due to low battery, your bed unmade and your bag in a slump on the floor. You look like a game character who got defeated in a fight.

When he hears it is the school stress that is doing this to you, he adamantly hatches a plan. "Levi we have school why anime now?" You ask as he drags you to his room.

"Because you need a energy recharge! So I told Lucifer you'll be staying with me all day and watch your favourite anime." Levi said, handing you a bunch of snacks.

Satan

This is the ninth day in a row you had fallen asleep in the library. Yes Satan was counting. Everytime he finds you, you're curled up in a chair with a heavy bookon your lap and your notebook and pens strewn across a nearby table. Overdue assignments.

"Oh MC again?" He mutters as he puts his jacket on you so you don't get cold. When was the last time you read a book with him? You seem so busy and distant these days. He noticed the way you kept denying all his brothers hence he didn't approach you himself. Now he understood why.

Diavolo must be barking mad in his head if he thinks an adolescent human can work the same way as age old demons. He feels annoyed at how you're being overwhelmed.

You wake up to him sitting next to you, writing down your assignments. "Satan why..." Satan smiles and palms your head, "You need to rest, you've been working too hard. I'll handle the assignments, you sleep some more, I'm taking you to a cat cafe later. Playing with cats will help you feel relaxed."

Asmodeus

Asmo notices the redness in your sunken eyes on the very next day after you pull an all-nighter. He offers you to come to his room but you decline saying you have to prepare for upcoming exams.

He finds it increasingly hard to keep his mouth shut and leave you alone when you look like this. Your skin is breaking out, your cheeks are sinking. You're starting to look like Lucifer.

Look at how school is ruining you! You are only a baby and yet you're starting look a workaholic corporate worker.

One day he's had enough with your lack of self-care and he drags you to his room. You try telling him off "Asmo I have exams-" He snaps back at you angrily, "Today is your day off whether you like it or not. I will not have you mistreating yourself like this. Now come on we're doing a home spa."

Beelzebub

Everything seems wrong. You aren't eating well. And today you look like you're about to pass out while eating dinner. He can't eat when you're like this - he doesn't want your leftovers anymore.

You try to smile at him, "I'm okay Beel. I'm just not very hungry." He isn't buying it but you leave so suddenly he couldn't say anything. You seemed to brush people off and be on your own these days.

He noticed you skip the lunchline at school to scurry off to a lonely table to finish up some work. He gets an extra plateful of food and sets it down next to you.

"Beel I said I'm not hungry." You try to say but Beel is having none of it. He snatches your stuff away. "School can wait, you need nourishments to work. I won't let you work before you eat all of this, MC."

Belphegor

This is heavily annoying to him. He sees you running out of your room, sneaking into the library to study at 3 AM in the night. Did you just wake up and decide not to sleep ever again?

When he tries to approach you about this, you act snappy and cold towards him. He doesn't mind - he understands why you're like this. He's grumpy half the time when he doesn't get to sleep either.

As if he needed more reason to resent Diavolo. Not only did he drag you down from Earth and now's he overworking you in school. Is this supposed to help somehow? Cause the only thing this has done is reduce the smiley chirpy MC to Lucifer version 2.0

One day he sees fall head first onto the floor as you try to flee your room. You stumble and shake as you try to get up again. "Okay that's it. Enough of this." Belphie appears and takes you back to your room, throwing you on the bed. "Belphie I'm fine I just need to finish-"

"You need to finish your sleep. I thought humans had better self-preservation than this. You will not get out of bed until you've caught up on your sleep" He tucks you in bed and stays there until you fall fast asleep.

[scripttorture]

You mention in posts how torture doesn’t make people obedient and usually makes them spiteful (which obviously makes sense), but isn’t it realistic for someone to comply out of fear rather than loyalty? Whether that was giving up information or obeying orders or something else entirely. I imagine it depends on the person, and they would probably still be willing to turn on their torturers if given the chance, but would it be possible for them to obey orders in hopes of avoiding more pain?

This is a much more nuanced and complicated topic then we’re taught to assume.

 When it comes to giving up information it’s pretty clear cut. No, torture can’t lead to accurate information for a lot of interconnected reasons. I have about six separate masterposts covering the reasons for this.

 One of those is the antagonism torture produces. Another is the memory problems torture causes. Another is the effect that the use of torture has on organisations and the chain of command. Another is the effect torture has on torturers.

 Torture drastically increases the chances of memory loss and it also increases the chances of inaccurate memories. So not only is a torture victim less likely to talk, they’re more likely to be wrong if they do talk.

 But the effects on victims aren’t the main reason torture doesn’t work as a way of getting information. You’re assuming that torturers have access to people who have information.

 The reality is that torture destroys an organisation’s ability to gather accurate information. Most information comes from volunteers: when torture comes into play less people volunteer information. This means that an organisation which tortures is more likely to be questioning someone who knows nothing. That person is then abused until they start making things up.

 Because there’s less access to volunteered information and because humans are very bad at telling when someone is lying, a lot of these made up stories are believed. And this then effects who else the organisation arrests and tortures. This creates a sort of spiral, with lies leading to more lies.

 Additionally the torturers themselves make things worse. There’s less quality research on them, but the research and anecdotal accounts create a pretty clear picture of their behaviour. They undermine the chain of command, they lose the skills the originally had as they turn to torture, they’re aggressive, incredibly competitive and they have a… fracturing effect on their organisation.

 Basically they’re incredibly difficult to work with and totally convinced of their own importance. And this effects their colleagues. It totally divides organisations. The worst case I’ve read about involved members of the same organisation killing each other over access to prisoners.

 That’s a short run through of the main factors. Torture, in the legally defined sense, means all of these factors are in play. Plus a few more I’ve omitted to keep this shorter.

 With all of that together you just can’t get accurate information.

 If you want longer posts I’ve made on the subject I suggest looking for the ‘torture doesn’t work’ tag and the ‘torture as interrogation’ tag. You can also read the masterposts. If you want a much more in depth look at why torture consistently fails as a way of getting information I recommend O’Mara’s Why Torture Doesn’t Work and Rejali’s Torture and Democracy.

 O’Mara is a neuroscientist and goes through the effects torture has on the brain in a way that’s accessible, explaining the damage torture causes and how that destroys the evidence torturers claim to be seeking. Rejali’s book is a breeze block but it’s really a must, it is the textbook on torture in a broad sense. He ties together information from across the globe creating a broader picture of what torture does, not just to victims but to societies.

 The question of compliance under threat and pain… is more complicated.

 People can be forced to do some things. That much is obvious from a brief glance at human history and things like slavery. But it’s important to listen to what people in these scenarios say.

 And my opinion, based on what I’ve read, is that what these people say doesn’t support the idea that humans will easily obey instructions when they’re hurt or threatened. I think instead these people are making hard headed, rational choices in absolutely awful situations. I think when we don’t have these experiences of torture or slavery, it’s easy to look at the surface of the situation and assume that pain alone assures obedience. I think that happens because it’s hard for use to understand the rationale when we don’t have that lived experience.

 Let me give some examples. So it probably goes without saying that slavery goes hand in hand with physical abuse. One of the major researchers on slavery, whose data I quote pretty regularly, assumes throughout his writings that pain is the deciding factor which ‘makes’ people obey.

 But he also describes a couple of very obvious consistent patterns in the ways slavers behave. Slavers almost universally do the following things as well as using physical abuse:

Separate enslaved people from their community

Bar enslaved people from other forms of support

Make enslaved people financially/materially reliant on the slavers

Tell enslaved people that going to the police/authorities will lead to the enslaved person being arrested

Try to convince enslaved people that they will be better off if they comply, usually by framing it as a debt to be worked off with promises of riches after a period of time

 Now here’s the thing: we know from studies on cults and studies on ICURE techniques that a lot of these strategies will result in obedience when there is no violence or physical abuse.

 Given that I don’t think we can assume that violence is the deciding factor. In fact I think the evidence we have from forced confessions under torture suggests the violence may lead to less obedience and a lower ‘success’ rate then a set up that used emotional abuse or other exploitative techniques without violence.

 We have two sources of historical data that are used for statistical studies on forced confessions. One is from historical France. We think that this data set only involved torture to force a confession; no other method of coercion just violence. The rate of forced confessions varied a little in different areas but over all it’s about 10%. The second data set is from the ‘London Cage’ a British prison during the second world war. Here we know that torture was combined with blackmail, bribery and other kinds of coercion. The rate of forced confessions there was about 30%.

 And while this is just two studies, while the data is lacking… That is one hell of a jump.

 Let’s circle back to ICURE. ICURE stands for Isolation, Control information, create Uncertainty, Repetition and Emotive responses. It’s a set of techniques which can, sometimes, change someone’s beliefs when it’s applied consistently over a long time.

 Notice the effort slavers put in to isolating their victims. Notice that the behaviour pattern I’m describing means the slavers are creating uncertainty over seeking help and repeating those messages as well as messages that the victims will be better off if they just go along with it.

 Slavers will generally also try to control the information their victims have access to, taking phones and blocking access to news sources and other resources. Now a lot of slavers will transport their victims to other states or countries putting a language barrier in place. They sometimes also use emotive responses in attempts to persuade victims to comply.

 I’ve read multiple accounts where survivors of modern slavery described slavers telling them that the money they were making was being sent to the victim’s family and without it the family would not survive. (Sometimes the slavers do send small amounts to the families of their victims, sometimes they pocket everything.) I’ve also read accounts where gangs of slavers used religion and oaths taken in a religious setting to persuade their victims they’d be punished by God for not complying.

 Even with all of this, all these techniques we know can sometimes ‘work’- lots of people refuse. Lots of people disobey. Lots of people escape. Lots of people actively sabotage the operations the slavers put together.

 And if you look at that same history of slavery, that shows us people can sometimes be forced to work, you’ll see that this has always been true.

 We have records of historic enslaved people attacking slavers, forming organised militias, forming parallel societies, sacking towns, taking over an entire Caribbean island and beating off four European armies in the process. We also have records of smaller acts. Sabotage, worship of banned deities, speaking banned languages, destruction of property, aiding in the escape of others.

 What I’m saying is: this isn’t black and white. The evidence, modern and historical does not paint a clear picture of violence leading to obedience.

 Instead I believe that it shows humans are resilient, stubborn, adaptable creatures. People can survive all kinds of horrible situations. It is more accurate, more human, to assume that people make rational choices.

 Sometimes those choices involve short term compliance while looking for a better option or a way out. But we tend to hear less stories about the people who completely refuse to comply. We tend to treat that as an impossible fiction when it is a recorded historical and modern reality.

 Bringing this back to writing as a general rule the more complicated the act the less likely you can force someone to do it. Because the more complicated it is the more opportunities they’ll have to sabotage it or use it against their abuser.

 I recommend reading up on the history of Haiti pet. Then Brazil via Palmares.

 I’ll end this by bringing it back to those statistics on forced confessions in historical France. Imagine the conditions with me for a moment. Unsanitary, cramped cells. Dehydration, starvation and disease. Plus the kinds of scarring torture that are conjured up in the minds of most Western people when the word ‘torture’ comes up; thumb screws, leg irons that tighten until the bone snaps, whips.

 Picture it. Try to imagine the pain those people went through.

 And remember that 90% of them did not comply long enough to sign their name.

Available on Wordpress.

Disclaimer

[sambvcks]

crawl home to her, b.b. x reader

chapter four // three days on drunken sin

summary: bucky decides to rifle through those boxes and finds the will to make the first move.

warnings: food/eating, nothing too bad this time!

word count: 1.7k

author’s note: how are we feeling about this week’s episode?? we’re getting closer to the start of tfatws with this chapter!! hope i don’t break your heart too much with the boxes :)

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The boxes taunted him for three days.

Three stacks of two boxes each cluttered his entranceway, each with that familiar scrawl of Steve’s God-awful handwriting.

‘BUCKY’

All caps, in black Sharpie, underlined three times just for good measure. Steve was always good at getting his message across.

He didn’t want to know what was in them, he told himself. But Steve was gone, and this was all he had left. These, that stupid notebook he still hadn’t found the will to write in, and the shield that was kicking around Sam’s apartment somewhere.

He wanted to toss them in his building’s dumpster, to push these aside like he did with everything else in his life. Out of sight, out of mind. That week, he didn’t tell his therapist about the boxes, or Sam’s unexpected visit, or his neighbor that he was now avoiding like the plague. Thankfully, she chalked his silence up to Steve and tried to fill in the conversational lulls with suggestions of amends and lists and he just wanted to go back to sleep.

Like always, sleep never came.

He knew the single night in his bed was a fluke, but he kept trying at least. He’d untuck his flat sheet from under hit mattress, fluff his pillow, and tuck himself in. Within five minutes, he was back on the hardwood floor of his living room, the lamplights illuminating his window and casting a perfect shadow on those stupid boxes. Finally, on the third night, he huffed a sigh and sat up, his arm whirring at the sudden movement. He wasn’t accomplishing anything letting them sit and gather dust.

Bucky reached under the cushions of his couch, fishing for the knife he had stashed away and got to work slicing through the clear packing tape securing each one.

The first five boxes were files. Mission reports, everything Steve could get his hands on about The Winter Soldier. The translations were rough, the descriptions weren’t as vivid as he remembered them now, and it wasn’t even close to everything. Why Steve kept them when Bucky was working to erase every trace of this from the universe, he would never understand. Steve was sentimental, even with the bad stuff. Bucky glanced over the files scattered across his entranceway, which maybe amounted to a year of his missions. If Zemo had looked in some suburb in upstate New York, he would have found everything he needed.

The dumpster behind his building was starting to feel more and more enticing.

The last box felt different. Significantly lighter and smaller, the items rolling and clanking as he dragged it towards him. He braced himself for more files, more reminders of what he had done as though they didn’t exist in his mind every second of the day.

The first thing he recognized was his mother’s handwriting. ‘Recipes’, scrawled so perfectly on a yellowing label.

The tin box was tinted with age, dented after so many years. He laughed and could remember it tucked away on the top shelf of the cabinet by the fridge, just out of Rebecca’s reach, even when she’d stand on her tiptoes in search of it. His Ma rarely fished it out, other than to let his little sister read over the ingredients with sticky hands as she helped stir pots and peel potatoes. She had them memorized by the time she was a teenager, having transcribed her own mother’s recipes onto these little cards. He was sure Rebecca did, too.

Next was the worn fabric of his Ma’s favorite apron. Yellow embroidered flowers scattered the crimped edge, strings falling loose. He recognized some of the stains, from spaghetti night and cake batter that she let dry on the cloth for too long.

Finally, a worn silver chain was buried at the bottom of the box.

JAMES B BARNES 32557038 T42 A

Of course, Steve with all his connections and know-it-all attitude and ‘I can do this all day’ would find some way to find his dog tags, probably tucked away in some ancient Hydra file. His flesh fingers ran over the indentation of his name, pressed into metal like millions of other boys had, off to fight a war that had nothing to do with them. Everything to lose, nothing to gain.

When he was most alone, settled into muddy trenches with wet socks and a stiff military jacket, he would recite those numbers out into the night sky. He’d map constellations over his head, wondering if it would be his last night and all there would be left of him would be those stupid discs of metal clanking around his neck and the letter tucked away in his jacket breast pocket, addressed to his mother.

His mother was long gone, he knew that. But to a fully conscious James Buchanan Barnes – not the Winter Soldier - he had only seen her a few years ago when he shipped off.

After a moment, he pulled the chain of his dog tags over his head, settling them under his shirt. His ears rung with the sound of footsteps in the hallway. The sound of dragging feet and the jangle of your keychain signaled your return from class.

His family was gone, Steve included. The only people he has left are halfway across the world, or off on some death-defying mission wearing metal bird wings. Except you, who still leaves bags of cookies on his front door mat, despite the silent treatment from his end. His maybe too friendly neighbor who poured over lists of albums for him to find taped to his door in barely legible handwriting when you should have been studying.

His mother’s recipe box was calling his name.

-

The knock on your door startled you from your nap. Well, if you can call dozing off at your desk using a law book as a makeshift pillow a nap. You stalled in your desk chair, eyes bleary as you squinted at your front door, then at the top corner of your computer.

2:36 AM

You nuzzled back into your book, content to chalk it up to your sleep deprived brain making things up.

The second knock was much more insistent and was certainly coming from your door. You rushed out of your chair, sock-clad feet dragging the blanket draped across your shoulders as you shuffled over, the knocking never ceasing. You blinked the sleep from your eyes, peering out your peephole into the dark hallway.

Bucky, with slumped shoulders and a bowed head, trying with all of his might to make himself as small as possible still took up so much of the doorway with his broad shoulders.

You should be mad at him.

You should go to bed, ignore him like he’d been ignoring you for the past few weeks. Like you hadn’t shared late nights and he hadn’t sat in your kitchen, licking your spoons clean or tucked into your couch just to watch you study, a new record playing gently. Your forehead pressed to the door, vile building in your throat as seething words collected on your tongue.

“I know you’re there.” His voice was muffled through the wooden door, feeling so close but sounding so far away. “We should work on you dragging your feet, doll.”

If you had taken another peek, you would have seen him pressing his forehead to the other side.

“You ignored me, Bucky.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere, even through the door. “Some family stuff came up. But it’s no excuse, I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

It’s so stupid, letting yourself get so attached to the first guy to bat his eyelashes and read to you. It’s idiotic to want him to seep into your days and nights, to never leave like he had left you, after only knowing each other for a month.

It’s so foolish to open the door. But you do it anyways.

He swallows as he stands straight, and the widening of his eyes tells you that he wasn’t expecting you to give him a second chance.

“I, uh, here. Thought I’d finally return the favor.”” Bucky shoves forward a plate of cookies, misshapen and unevenly cooked. His eyes finally found yours. “My mom’s recipe.”

Family stuff, you remembered. The weight of the plate felt heavy in your hands, almost as heavy as his gaze on you as you lifted one of the lesser burnt cookies to your mouth and took a timid bite.

Bucky, you’ve come to learn, gives his love in silent acts of approval. He shines when you tell him his singing isn’t totally awful or that he makes a great sous chef, eyes crinkling when you approve of his music choice for the night or compliment the voices he picks when reading from his books. As he watched you, you felt that this cookie meant more to him then just flour and eggs.

He was reaching out, terrified of your rejection.

“You made these?”

“Alright, I’m not totally helpless.”

“They’re amazing, Bucky. Your mom should be proud.”

He returned your smile, knowing that she wouldn’t be. How could she, after all that his hands have done? Hands that should’ve been home, hoisting his sisters onto his shoulders. Hands that should have been helping set the table and at work so they had something to eat in the first place.

He looked so timid in your hallway, unsure of the next move. You rolled your eyes, moving to clear your doorway, despite his hesitation.

“Come on.” You spoke, like ushering in a stray cat with the promise of food and love.

He took the first step forward, shoulder to shoulder, head tilted down to catch your playful gaze with his serious one. Your mouth opened to make some sort of quip to ease the tension, but the words died in your throat as he pressed his forehead against yours for just a second.

His eyes closed as he drew in a single serene breath through his nose.

He was gone as quickly as he had come, moving further into your apartment and directly to your shelves of records, gloved fingers grazing over the sleeves in contemplation for his first choice of the night. As you finally collected yourself enough to close the door, you wondered how many people in the world had ever loved Bucky Barnes enough to give him a second chance.

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[lucy90712]

Being an author (hc)

request: hi! could you write something about reader being an author? tysm :D

~ George:

He really likes reading your work and he is always amazed at your creativity and intelligence which is shown in the way your write. He is literally your biggest fan and will reread all of your work over and over because he loves them and you so much.

If you just write for fun he would definitely encourage you to publish your books and would help you do all of it along with deciding on covers and things which he isn't as good at because of the colours but he is good with designs. When the book is officially available he would promote it as much as he can without telling you because he wants it to go well for you so that you feel confident enough to do more because you are so good and he wants you to feel like you are actually good at writing because sometimes you don't believe you are.

When your books start to do really well he's so excited probably more than you because you are very critical of yourself but he makes sure you know that what you achieved with just your first book. He would also encourage you to publish more so you do because he seems to know what he's on about and think that you can do well doing more. He would also help and support you in leaving your current job to be a full time author which is something you never thought you would do but George is so excited that you get to do something you are good at and love your dream like he does.

As you become more established as an author and people start to recognise your talent he becomes ire and more proud like when you get to do interviews about your new book he's so happy even though he misses you while you are gone.

Dream:

As soon as he read your books he is shocked to start with that one person could write with some much emotion and description. You don't think that what you write is that good but as soon as Clay has read your work that doesn't happen anymore, he is just so in awe of your talent.

Reading the way you write would inspire him with the lore and would ask you if you would like to write about what has happened on the smp. He has such good ideas and with your writing style you create an amazing series of books about the smp from the point of view of the main character in each storyline, to start with they aren't your favourite things you've written until you look back through them and feel like you are in all of the situations.

Clay is so proud of what you did together that with all his connect he gets the series published but he doesn't give himself any credit even though it is definitely deserved I mean the server is his and he was the one who came up with the idea. Despite that he promotes the hell out of it and it does really well with all of the fans loving the way you've written their favourite characters and then on he encourages you to publish more and take advantage of the audience you already have.

From then on Clay encourages you to write as much as you can because you are so good at it and anytime you need a break he will be there to give you something else to think about. If you get writers block he helps you to work through it and get back to your usual creative self.

Sapnap:

Not the biggest reader but he loves reading your books in fact they are the only things he will read and when you don't work on them for a while because you are busy he misses reading which is something he never thought he would say. He encourages you as much as he can and will take on some of the things you have to do if it gives you more time to write.

Would love for you to make a living out of your writing because he thinks that it is the thing that you would enjoy the most especially because you are studying English at college so he would take your work to publishers without you knowing just to see if they agree with him on how good your writing is. Once he gets replies he would surprise you with what the publishers say which has you shocked and really start consider what you can do after finishing college or while still in college.

If you decided to actually publish one if your books Sapnap would be so proud that you are already a published author while still in college. However life becomes a lot more stressful with endless deadlines to meet from college as well as publishers that you almost give up but he keeps you in track and reminds you that soon college will be over and your life will be a lot less stressful. He is the one that keeps you going when things feel overwhelming and encourages you to keep going because you love writing and no matter what it will always make you happy.

Wilbur:

The two of you would work together quite a lot because when Wilbur comes up with a song idea you make it into a story which sometimes helps him write the lyrics or come up with music video ideas. Everything is a collaboration which the both of you love because it makes it easier for the others of you as ideas can bounce off of you both and create something much better than if one of you was alone.

Once he had finished a song he will always get your help with the music video in directing it because you are so good with stories and structuring it correctly. He also has endless praise for you and your ability so will always tell his stream chat when you have been involved on a project even if it's the smallest part he likes to give you credit because it makes more people interested in what you do which is all he wants for you.

Does everything in his power to help you out and promote your things when you will allow him because a lot of the time you don’t let him because you feel bad for his viewers having to hear about all of your projects when they probably don’t care. However you don’t know that the viewers love your stuff and love hearing about what you have been doing mainly because Wilbur gets so excited when talking about what you’ve done.

[empower-bi-women]

Hi! In case you write for Tim Drake, I’d love if you could write a smut in which Tim and the reader have known each other for long and the sexual tension is obvious but none of them ever acted upon it until now. Thank you very much.

That pesky sexual tension 

Summery: Hi! In case you write for Tim Drake, I’d love if you could write a smut in which Tim and the reader have known each other for long and the sexual tension is obvious but none of them ever acted upon it until now. Thank you very much.

Warnings: SMUT so if you’re not 18 begone thot, spanking, teasing, dirty talk, cheesy writing? 

A/N: I tried to be a little more cute with this one so let me know what you think. And to the anon who requested this I’m sorry it took so long I hope you like it! Also this is my first ask!! So sorry if the format is a little strange I’m still trying to figure it out.

Word count: 3041 

“Timothy Drake, I swear to god give me back my book!” you chased him into the kitchen where he ran to the other side of the counter. 

“Why don't you come over here and make me.” He replied with a teasing smile on his face. You lunged forward across the cold counter top to reach for your book. He laughed at your struggle “Come on Y/N you know you never won a fight against me without someone helping you.” 

Shit he had a point you thought, everyone else was out at the store. You gave up, sitting on the counter with you back to him and pouted. Arms crossed looking towards the open door. Laughing he walked over to face you. 

“Aw come on I was just teasing.” he put his arms down on either side of you, trapping you in but you refused to look at him. “Come on look at me,” he leaned down to try and catch your gaze but you just moved your head. “Y/N?” he looked at you with wide eyes before they narrowed, “Y/N look at me.” His voice dropped into that commanding tone he used on patrol. You couldn’t help but look up to meet those blue eyes that bore into yours. The silence in the room was deafening. He leaned in closer and closer until your breath was his. Noses almost brushing. Lips almost touching. He glanced down at your lips. 

The kitchen door burst open causing the two of you to jump apart as the rest of the boys walked in carrying grocery bags, chatting loudly. Dick and Jason froze in the doorway causing Damian to bump into them from behind. 

“Now what do we have here?” Jason asked in a teasing voice. 

“Nothing. Did you get my coffee?” Tim said, his voice back to normal. 

“Did you put it on the list?” Dick asked, shooting you a strange look as you hopped off the counter, “what were you guys doing in here anyway?” 

“Tim took my book right out of my hands so I had to get it back.” You replied.

“Damn I thought you were finally resolving that pesky sexual tension.” Jason said through a mouth full of marshmallows. 

“Jason!” You, Tim, and Dick all yelled out.

“What! This has been going on for way too long. We were all thinking it” He tried to defend himself. 

“We most certainly were not Master Jason,” Alfred came to save the day, “and please refrain from eating all the food before it's even put away.”

He grumbled before putting the bag away. You snached your book away from Tim before walking into the living room to finish reading. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Come on please Y/N just look it up! It won’t even take five minutes.” Tim pleaded with you, hiding a smile on his face.

“I thought you were the computer wiz, do it yourself.” You replied, not looking at him. He grabbed the back of your chair and spun you to face him. Kneeling down he looked in your eyes. “Please?” his voice was barely above a whisper as he leaned in closer, “for me?” 

Your cheeks heated up. “I’m busy right now, go ask someone else.”

“Ok can you just check this one thing please?” 

“Out!” You spun your chair away from him but he still leaned down and pressed a kiss to your head before walking away.  You shook your head trying to clear the thoughts running through your head of the way his forearms flexed as he gripped the chair arms. The way his bright blue eyes looked like they wanted to devour you whole. Ugh this man is going to kill me you thought. 

--------------------------------------------------------

That night you were working comms with Barbara in the cave. Things were going smoothly until Tim called in.

 “Hey Oracle, hey angel, can you guys find out who that guy over there is and what he's doing please and thank you.” Your eyes went wide at the nickname he gave you. You could see Barbara looking at you out of the corner of your eye and heard Jason and Dick laughing though the comms. You ignored them as your fingers flew across the keyboard as facial rec worked its magic. 

“His name is Jimmy Figgis. He’s fresh out of bellrev, he was in for drug dealing and black mail.” You said into the comms.

“Well it would be a shame if he got caught red handed doing a deal. He would go back to jail.” Barbara chimed in. 

“Looks like we got a stake out boys.” Dick said.

“It's ok guys, I can stay for the drop.” Tim said, his voice low as he settled in for the night, “I'll have Y/N to keep me company, right angel?”  

“I mean it's not like I have a choice do I.” 

Not even half an hour later Tim started to get bored. And his target was you. Barbara had to leave to take care of some other stuff so you were alone. Tim decided it would be a good idea to switch frequencies and mess with you. 

“Hey Y/N, have you ever thought about us while touching yourself?” 

You spat out your coffee. “What the fuck Timothy!” You heard his laughter on the other side of the line. 

“Well I'm just asking because I know for a fact that Dick thinks of Babs and Jason thinks of Diana sometimes but he would never admit it. And I got curious. Who do you think of?” 

You could practically hear the smile in his voice. “Wouldn't you like to know. You really should focus on the stake out instead of my masturbation habits.” 

“Aw angel I can almost see you blushing from here. You look adorable.” 

“Shut up Tim.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love hearing you say my name? It sounds so sweet I can almost imagine what you would sound like screaming it underneath me.”

You froze. You and Tim had always had a flirtatious relationship but this was a new level entirely. This was dangerous territory. “Don't start things you can't finish Timothy.” Your voice was low. 

“Oh believe me angel I always finish. And I make sure my partner does too.” 

You threw your head back in frustration. “Focus on the stake out and we can continue this later.”

“Is that a promise?”

Before you could reply Bruce’s voice crackled through the comms “Red Robin we’re coming to you.” 

-------------------------------------------------------------

A few arrests and fight later the bats rolled into the cave. Alfred was on standby with the medical kit but there was no need. You shifted uncomfortably as Tim’s eyes raked over your body, pausing on your legs that were squeezed together, trying and failing to give you relief from the ache in your pussy. He smirked at the site of you waiting for him, all needy. 

“Good job tonight guys. Shower and get some sleep,” Bruce said, taking his cowl off, “I’m looking at you Tim.”

Tim just smiled. You both knew there would be no sleeping tonight. Tim walked over to you, his cowl was off and his dark hair was messy. Fuck he looked good you thought to yourself. The look on his face was calm but you could see something in his eyes. All the years you've known him, you had never seen this look in his eyes. It was dark and lit a fire inside you. 

“Do you still want to do this? Because once we start, I'm not stopping.” his blue eyes stared into yours.

“I believe I have a promise to fulfill.”

He gave you a wicked smile. “I want you upstairs in my room, ten minutes. And no touching yourself.” He tapped your thighs that were pressed together before walking away.

-------------------------------------------------------

Your head was a mess by the time you headed up to Tim’s room. You had bid goodnight to the rest of the boys when your phone chimed. Tim had sent you a picture from the shower. Towel low on his hips showing off his v line, water droplets glistening off his abs, and the way his hand gripped his phone showed off all the muscles and veins in his arms. The wetness between your legs grew with every step towards his room. You knocked on his door, the loud sound of your knuckles against the wood echoed throughout the hallway. 

“Come in.” His voice was muffled by the door. You walked in to find him sitting on a chair across from the bed in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants. “Lock the door.” His voice was low and commanding, not unlike that day in the kitchen. That same electric energy that you felt then was in the room, now magnified by 100. 

“I'm going to ask you one more time, are you sure you want this?” 

“Yes Tim I’m sure.” 

“Good girl,” the praise sent shivers down your spine, “Take off your clothes and lay down on the bed.” Your heart was beating out of your chest as you slowly took your shirt off. “I don't recommend teasing me angel, it won't work out well for you.” You just smiled as you turned around, taking your pants off while wiggling your ass tauntingly. You didn’t even hear him move before you felt a sharp pain across your backside. You moaned at the contact. 

“Aw does my little angel like pain?” he questioned mockingly before coming down on you again, “I asked you a question Y/N, I expect and answer.” 

“Yes sir.” You heard him laugh behind you. He wrapped his hand in your hair and pulled you up against his warm chest. “Well isn't that a nice surprise. I always knew you had a thing for authority.” His voice was low in your ear. Your head went back to rest on his shoulder as he kissed his way down your neck, sucking and biting the skin there. His movements against your body are slow and calculating. Tim always seemed gentle and calm but the truth is that no one knows how he respresed his emotions, and his needs. But tonight he was going to take whatever he wanted. And you would let him. 

“What do you have to say for yourself?” His hands caressed your skin.

“I’m sorry sir.”

“Sorry for what?”

You took a shallow breath. He was really going to make you work tonight. “For teasing you.” 

He turned you around to face him. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He said softly, brushing your hair out of your face, before kissing your lips gently. Looking into his eyes you could never tell what he was thinking. His face was calm and passive. That is until he let go. And you would do whatever it takes to see him lose control. Even if that meant misbehaving. 

“Get on the bed for me angel.” he kissed your forehead before turning his back on you but you didn’t move. He grabbed a red tie from his desk and turned around, his eyes widening at the sight of you still standing there. “Did you not hear me?” He raised his eyebrows at you, “I said, get on the bed. Now.” 

You could see the annoyance in his eyes. He was starting to slip, you wouldn’t stop now. 

“Make me.” 

Those two words lit a fire in him. He picked you up easily and threw you onto the bed with such force that you bounced. “I told you not to tease me angel.” He growled as he crawled towards you on the bed. He grabbed your ankle and pulled you towards him so he was hovering over you, arm placed next to your head. His hot breath hit your face. “You were being so good angel, what happened? Why are you being a brat now.” 

You whimpered at his words. His hand slipped down to your panties and rubbed a finger up and down your slit ever so lightly. 

“Tim please.” You begged him. A sharp smack to your thigh brought you out of your daze. 

“I'm sorry, what was that?” his voice has a dangerous edge to it. His eyes were wild, “that not what you're calling me tonight, is it.” 

“Sir, please! Please touch me, I need it.” You pleaded with him. He rolled his hips into yours, putting pressure where you needed him most. 

“Will you listen to me now?” 

“Yes anything you say.” You replied, needing to feel him closer. 

He moved in to kiss you, stopping just before your lips touched. You moved up trying to close the distance but his hand was quick around your throat, forcing you back down. “I'm going to eat this pretty little pussy,” he murmured, “I want you to stay still and you must ask for permission before you cum. Understood?” 

You nodded, desperate for anything he would give you. He removed his hand from your neck and kissed his way down your body to your soaked panties. His rough hands spread your thighs open, leaving a wet kiss on both before pressing a kiss to your clothed clit. You shifted your hips up, trying desperately to get more stimulation. His arm trapped your hips down. 

“Now angel, what did I tell you about moving?” He moved away from where you needed him most. 

“I’m sorry sir, please I need you.” You looked at him with desperate eyes. 

“All these years I’ve known you, you've always been a tease to me. Whether you knew it or not. I've been waiting for so long for this, I’m going to take my sweet time,” he growled, “you can lay there and shut up, it's my turn to tease you now Y/N.” 

He dove back in and licked a long stripe over your panties. Heat washed over your body as you felt your pussy gush at his actions. He slowly pulled them off your body leaving kisses down your legs. Leaving hickeys on your inner thighs. He ran his tongue over the dark red marks he left behind. Throwing your panties somewhere in his room, he came back to your throbbing core. Running a finger through your wetness he cooed at you. “Oh angel you're just soaking wet for me aren't you? I can't wait to taste this sweet little cunt.” 

He licked up your slit, collecting your juices. He moaned at the taste. His tongue flicked against your clit ever so lightly, giving you some stimulation but not enough. One hand snaked up in between your thighs to play with your cunt. 

You threw your head back at the sensation of his tongue and fingers working their magic on your body. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. You gasped at the sensation, shivers running down your spine. His finger teased your entrance. 

“You’re fucking drenching me sweetheart. You taste so good when you're like this for me.”

“Please sir I need you.”

“Where do you need me angel?” his finger slid all the way in, “right here?” 

Your eyes rolled back as he finally gave you what you wanted. His finger rubbed against your g spot immediately, making soft moans escape your mouth. “Does that feel good?” 

“Yes” You whimpered. He smacked your thigh. “What was that?” He said roughly, looking up to meet your eyes. 

“I’m sorry, yes it feels good sir.” 

Satisfied with your answer he slowly pumped his finger in and out of you, rubbing your clit in tight circles with his thumb. Before long you were thrashing on the sheets, hands gripping the pillow above your head. Your stomach fluttering as you neared your climax. 

“Are you a good girl?” Tim questioned.

“Yes sir.” you cried out, “please let me cum, please sir.” Your voice was shaking as you tried to control yourself. Out of nowhere he pulled away, licking his fingers as he watched you kick your legs in frustration. 

“What the FUCK Timothy!” You shouted as he got off the bed and walked to his desk. Laughing to himself he reached into a drawer and pulled out a condom. 

“Gotta be safe right?” He said with a smirk on his face.

You sighed. “I thought you were just going to leave me there.”

“That's only if you’re a bad girl but you've been good for me so far, so good that I’ll give you what you want.” He said sliding into you. He leaned down and kissed your forehead as you both caught your breath. Once you adjusted to him you tapped his shoulder to move. 

“You feel so good wrapped around me angel.” Tim whispered softly in your ear, as he thrust his hips into yours. Finally getting what you needed. You wrapped your legs around him pulling him as close as you could. Your lips met in a heated kiss as the knot in your stomach grew impossibly tighter. His hips snapped into yours at a steady rhythm. Your legs trembled as your orgasm approached at a blinding speed.  

Your hips moved to meet his every thrust.  

“Tim I’m gonna cum.” You said breathlessly 

“Just wait angel one more minute.” The pleasure almost overwhelmed you but the need to be good for him won out. “I want you to cum with me in 3,” your nails clawed down his back, “2,” your eyes fluttered shut, “1.” He growled in your ear. 

Your stomach contracted as your body shook with pleasure. His hips stuttered to a stop but his hand kept rubbing you, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could. 

You finally pushed his hand away, the feeling getting to be too much. You both lay there next to each other, catching your breath. 

“So does this mean we’re together?” You asked, your voice small. 

He rolled over to look at you, a big smile on his face. “Definitely.” 

[dreamescapeswriting]

All I want ~ JJK [Request]

WORD COUNT: 4.2k

PAIRING: jeon jungkook x fem!reader

GENRE: Angst, fake dating, established relationship, fluffy ending

A/N: Hope this is okay for you!

The day had started off so brilliantly, Jungkook had been texting you to arrange a romantic weekend away together to make up for the last couple of months of awfulness but now it felt as though your world was falling apart. That and your anniversary was coming up this weekend so he wanted to take you somewhere to get away together. But now you were staring down at the magazine in your hands you could have screamed out in heartbreak as you saw the photo that was splashed across the front page. Lip locking with someone that wasn't you, making out with the devil.

"Y/n? I'm waiting?!" You stared through the glass window at your boss who was smirking at you, she knew what was going on and why that magazine had been placed on your desk that morning. The front page was splashed with images of her and Jungkook making out at the side of the Han River. Taking in a deep breath you got up from your desk and picked up the magazine, slipping it into the reviews of her latest book and walked into her room. 

"You have a meeting with BigHit this afternoon," You told her as you tried to act as though you hadn't seen the magazine, despite her being the one that had placed it onto the desk in the first place. 

"Is Guky going to be there?" You cringed at the nickname that she had for him but you bit down on your tongue nodding your head at her.

"You and Jungkook have a date tonight in his favourite restaurant." What you meant by that was your favourite restaurant, it was where Jungkook had given you a promise ring before he went on his first tour when you were dating. The longer you stared down at the desk thinking about your time together you thought back on the first time he told you about all of this. This being the fake dating contract that was going on between him and your boss Miss Ko Moon-Young. 

The whole world felt as though it had frozen around you as Jungkook told you what he was being told to do by BigHit and it just seemed off to you. Why would Jungkook need to fake date someone to gain more fame when he was in one of the largest boy bands in the world. The contract was sitting on the kitchen table in front of you, he'd already crossed the T's and dotted the I's without even asking you how you would feel about this. After a four year relationship, you figured that he would have at least asked if you would be okay with him fake dating someone.

"Baby it's just for a couple of months...It's not for me it's for her, BigHit needs her reputation to go up as they're signing her." You scoffed at his piss-poor attempt at making it seem as though it was no big deal. The author who was supposed to be fake dating is Ko Moon-Young and she was one of the most well-known authors in the writing world and not because she was good at writing. Her writing was exceptional but it was her personality that she was mostly known for. Being awful to her fans, being nasty with every person she met. The woman would do anything she could to get what she wanted, which included stealing from restaurants she ate at. Stealing things from the people she dated because she just wanted the things she saw. Nothing would stand in her way. The woman was dreadful, you'd always been taught that if you had nothing nice to say than to keep your mouth shut but she was the exception to that rule. Standing up from the table you grabbed the plates from your dinner the two of you had shared and began to load up the dishwasher,

"You mean her reputation needs saving," You grumbled as you shut the dishwasher turning around to look at him as you folded your arms over your chest. Sighing to himself he looked at you, he knew that you weren't going to like the idea of it but when BigHit told him to do something it wasn't as though he had much of a choice. He smiled weakly at you as he stepped closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he looked into your eyes. 

"She's your boss you know, you know what she's like." You rolled your eyes at him and shook your head. Although she was your boss it didn't mean you had to like her. The woman made your life a living hell, always making you do something she could have done for herself.

"Baby, you know that I love you, nothing will stop me from loving you." You hummed sarcastically in response to him and tried to walk away but he pushed you against the countertop and forced you to look into his eyes. He wasn't going to let you walk away without talking about it first.

"Ko is nothing to me, we're the ones that have been together for four years. Nothing is going to make me forget that," You looked into his eyes as you tried not to get mad at him for all of this, 

"You could have told me before signing it," You mumbled as you thought about it more and more, biting down on your lip as you realised what they would have to do together. All of the things that you wanted to do with him in public, the events, the walking around like a real couple and not having to hide in the house all of the time. Pretending as though you didn't know him and hiding whenever you're out in public and someone happens to stare at him too much and realise who he was. 

"I didn't have a choice, I had to sign it," You pressed your head into his chest as you sighed, Jungkook kissed the top of your head and held onto you tightly making you relax against him.

"Now, come up to bed and let's get some sleep?" You hummed at him again and looked over at the clock on the wall, 

"You can't stay. You have an interview with Miss Moon-Young tomorrow," You mumbled, as much as you would have loved him to stay close to you all night you knew if he stayed in your place he ould never leave and if he ever did he'd be late. Manager Sejin was already mad at you enough for making him late a lot, 

"I'll set an alarm." He whined as you started pushing him towards the front door, you shook your head at his protest. 

"Sejin-Oppa already hates me, I'm not letting you make him hate me more or we'll never be able to out our relationship." It was the truth. Sejin was the one in charge of deciding if Jungkook's relationship was allowed to be outed to the public and he'd declined all of the chances you had to announce it.

"Are you even listening to me Y/n?" You stared at her as she questioned you again, you shook your head, 

"Sorry...I was-"

"Thinking about Jungkook? He's so cute, isn't he!? The kiss was so random! I wasn't expecting it!" She screamed out as she stared at you. Of course, she knew that you and Jungkook were dating. It had been revealed to her when she'd been asking what was going to happen between her and Jungkook. Kissing was off the table, you didn't want them to kiss, you didn't even want them to be near one another and she knew that which was exactly why you knew she'd been the one to put the magazine down for you to see. 

"He is. I hope you guys can enjoy tonight," You were doing your best to seem as happy about this as possible, trying to be as kind as you could about all of this. The best way to get through it was to ignore it, the contract had been extended by two more months and this was the final one. Pretty soon there would be a mutual break coming up and you would be able to have your boyfriend back, all to yourself. 

"I'm thinking! This weekend when we all go on our little holiday I can steal him for a few hours?! We can get seen and then you can have him whatever it is he has planned." You frowned as she mentioned the holiday. 

"W-What?" You questioned, staring into her eyes as the smile on your lips slowly began to fade and an evil smirk began to grow on her face. 

"Didn't Jungkook tell you? The only way you were allowed to take your little anniversary holiday was if I came along?" A shiver ran through you as you dropped your clipboard onto her desk in shock. 

"I-I'm taking my lunch." You mumbled quickly as you began to back out of the room, bumping into the door frame as you began to take off and out of the building as you headed straight to Jungkook. Calling his phone and asking him to meet you at the back entrance of the BigHit building where you would always meet up with one another. 

"She's coming with us?!" You yelled as he pushed you into one of the empty dance studios, shutting the door and leaning against it as he waited for you to get the yelling out of your system. When he turned around you were standing with your hands on your hips waiting for him to say something about everything that was going on. 

"It was the only way we would be able to go out baby. I thought you would be happy." He told you as he looked at you, he was doing everything he could to keep your relationship working while also maintaining his job but it was getting harder. 

"Happy? Yes. I would love my horrible boss following me and my boyfriend around all weekend." You held back the tears that were threatening to come out, the one thing you didn't want to do was cry in front of him when you knew he was having a hard time with all of this as well. Taking in a couple of deep breathes you shook your head at him, 

"I'm sorry...I just- She put that magazine of you and her on my desk and then she dropped the shell on me that she would be coming with us?" He shook his head as he brought you into a tight hug wanting to hold onto you for as long as he could, the two of you were finally alone for the first time in months. You'd hardly had any time together since his "relationship" with her, it had always been them needing to be around one another all of the time. Leaving you and Jungkook on the outskirts of the relationship, 

"I promise that once I'm seen landing with her in the airport and we're seen checking it, that's it. We can do whatever we want, whatever our hearts desire," He promised you as he kissed your lips softly, 

"She'll leave us alone?" He nodded his head at you and you smiled weakly at him, deciding that if she wasn't going to be around you all of the time that you could do it. 

"Then I suppose that's okay." You mumbled to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kisses him, whining against his lips as you realised just how long it had been since you'd kissed him. 

"I miss you," You whimpered as you pulled at his shirt to open the buttons, you felt the smirk on his lips grow in size as he began to push you against the mirror behind you. Pulling at the shirt you were wearing as he tried to open it, he'd missed you sneaking into the building to have some fun together, 

"I miss you too baby," He panted as he began kissing down your neck, biting into your skin when someone tapped on the door softly making you groan out. 

"Miss Ko is calling for Y/n, she wants her to come back from her lunch early," You heard Sejin say from the door making you bite down on your lip and look into Jungkook's eyes. 

"Just think of our weekend, our time together." He whispered to you as he kissed your lips one last time, watching you walk out of the room sighing to himself as soon as you were gone.

"When are you going to tell her?" Sejin asked as he walked into the dance studio, closing the door behind him as he looked at Jungkook for an answer. 

"When the time is right-"

"She'll see it in the magazines sooner or later," Jungkook rolled his eyes making his way out of the room as he tried to think of the best way to tell you that the fake dating was being moved to a fake engagement. 

The plane ride to your surprise holiday was only short, Jungkook had taken the time to fly you all to a small private island where you could be alone for most of the trip. The plane for you had been awful though since you weren't supposed to be seen with Jungkook you were sitting in Economy while Jungkook and Miss Ko were up in first class, Sejin in business class. You thought you would have at least been placed there since Miss Ko was your boss but it turned out you were just shoved to the back. 

"Baby you're going to love it," Jungkook whispered as he covered your eyes. He'd gotten you to meet him outside his room in the hotel and was now leading you down the beach with his hands over your eyes. Your hands clutching onto his forearms as you tried not to scream out, you always liked being able to see where you were going but he was keeping everything a secret. The only reason you knew you were on the beach was that you could feel the sand and hear the waves crashing down against the sand. 

"Can I just watch? I mean I already know we're on a beach," You giggled as you felt Jungkook struggle to walk you around the beach. 

"Because this is supposed to be a special surprise," He whined as he moved his hands away from your eyes, 

"Anything with you is special baby," You promised him as you turned to look at him, not noticing the way he had arranged somewhere for you both to sit. 

"I know but, the last few months have been so hard on you so I wanted to make this a way of making it up to you," He whispered as he kisses your lips softly, that was when he turned you around to look at the firepit on the beach. Sitting beside it was a picnic blanket, picnic basket and pillows laying all over the blanket so that the two of you could sit comfortably.

"Jungkook this is-" You stopped talking when he bent down and went into the basket pulling out a see-through box to reveal a cake. 'Happy Anniversary Y/n!' Written across the front in bright pink icing,

"Jungkook it's adorable, thank you." You whispered as you looked at him. All the months of the two of you not being able to be together, went out of your mind and all you could think about was the time you had spent together. All of the good memories flooding back into your head.

"I got us some take-out food because I couldn't cook, which was my original plan." He laughed awkwardly at the thought of it. His original plan was to take you to his place and cook for you but with the recent news of his "relationship", he couldn't do any of the things you used to. Taking you out on cute dates in the day when he could hide, or taking you to his place or going to yours. Everything was so much harder now.

"Hey, this is perfect. This is all I could want." You promised him as you sat down on the blanket and got ready to eat some of the food that he had bought with him. 

The night had been perfect in every sense of the word. Jungkook had spent the entire night holding you, after you finished eating you both just laid down on the blankets together. Enjoying the time alone you had with one another for the first time in a long time. 

"There's one thing I can't wait to do," You admitted to him as you rolled over and placed your chin on his chest just staring into his eyes, 

"What's that?" He hummed as he began to run his fingers up and down your back slowly, staring back into your eyes. 

"Fall asleep with your arms wrapped around me-" The sentence was interrupted when you heard your boss's shriek fill the air instantly ruining the moment within seconds. 

"And it's gone," You mumbled sitting up and wrapping your own arms around your body and rubbed your skin as though you were cold. Guilt swamped Jungkook as he looked at you and then to Miss Ko who was squeezing herself down onto the blanket. 

"I'm bored, you said this would be a good trip but there's nothing here for me to do!" She cried out, picking up some of the cake Jungkook had brought and began eating it without being offered any. 

"Move over, the sand is ruining my dress." She hissed at you making you move, she was still your boss at the end of the day and you couldn't be mad at her for ordering you around. 

"Miss Ko, we're having a date." Jungkook tried to tell her but she just ignored him, picking up some frosting on her finger and holding up to his lips. 

"You should eat this, it's lovely. Have you tried some Y/n?" You hummed in answer to her turning to look at Jungkook with some help on making her leave but Jungkook just smiled at Miss Ko. 

"Jungkook...I'm getting tired, maybe we should go back to your room?" You questioned with a smile on your lips but it was quickly removed when Miss Ko told you that she and Jungkook were in the room next to one another with a conjoining door to their rooms. 

"Jungkook. We have that meeting tomorrow with Sejin remember, we have to go and pick out rings." You frowned at her and then looked at Jungkook who was avoiding your gaze. 

"Rings?" You asked, turning to your boss who nodded at you happily. 

"Engagement rings!" The world seemed to stop for you a second time as you stared at Jungkook waiting for him to tell you that she was lying. It was all some fever dream you were experiencing or Miss Ko was just trying to wind you up but he stayed quiet. 

"We're going to announce our engagement next week-" You stood up making her stop talking and walked away from Jungkook and her on the beach. Not wanting to sit there any longer than you had to. He had promised you it would just be a few months, nothing longer than four was what he told you and yet here you were six months later and it seemed to only be extending more and more. 

Later in the night, you figured you were probably overreacting to everything. Jungkook had been trying to call you since you left the beach but you ignored him. Sending him to voicemail while you showered and tried to sleep for the night but it was proving to be difficult. You were having a losing battle with your head and wanted to at least talk to Jungkook about it. Talk it through with him and confirm that their relationship was all still for sure like he told you it was.

You were opening his door with the key he'd given you earlier that day, he wanted you to have it so you could stop by and see him whenever you wanted. 

"Jungkook I know I shouldn't have stormed off earlier. I was just mad when-" Sitting on the bed with Jungkook was a half-dressed Miss Ko, in nothing but an unbuttoned dress shirt and her makeup smeared across her face. Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at them, sitting so close together it looked as though they'd just gotten out of a make-out session. 

"Y/n it isn't what it looks like!" Jungkook jumped off the bed but you were already crying as you stared at them. The tears you had been holding in for the last six months finally flowing free as you stared at them both. Your breaking point had been passed and it felt as though your heart was being ripped out of your chest. 

"I quit. I'll be on the next flight home, Miss Ko. Jungkook I'll make sure all of your things are ready for you to pick up at my place." You didn't give him a chance to explain himself or chase after you as you walked out of the room. Leaving Jungkook yelling out your name as you burst into sobs, slamming your hotel door and whimpering into your hands. 

The airport was empty thanks to it almost being 3 am which meant you were free to tear up and cry into your hands as much as you wanted without getting too many weird looks. You'd grabbed the cheapest flight possible home and booked it right away, heading to the airport so you couldn't bump into Jungkook.

"Babe!" His voice cried out as he rushed up behind you in the waiting area of the airport, you ignored him. Keeping your eyes forward as though you didn't know him but that wasn't going to stop him. He sat down beside you and waited for you to look at him. 

"Y/n please, she was trying to kiss me but I pushed her off me," You rolled your eyes at him, scoffing at him as he tried to talk his way out of this. 

"Her shirt was open-"

"She walked into my room like that! You know what she's like! She's a fucking bitch," He cut you off as he began to let tears roll down his face. Your flight number was called over the speaker and you got up from the seat, ignoring Jungkook as he raced after you. 

"Please Y/n, you know I would never do something like that to you," You shook your head as you listened to him. 

"I used to think that, now I'm not so sure...Were you even going to tell me about the fake engagement?" He nodded his head but you just let your tears flow down your cheeks and tried to walk away from him but he stood in front of you to stop you from moving. 

"You're making a scene. People will see us together-"

"Let them! I will scream it from the rooftops that you're the one I love and not Miss Ko Moon-Young!" Your hand on your bag dropped and you cover his mouth but he stopped you as he stepped away. 

"I, JEON JUNGKOOK AM HOPELESSLY IN LOVE WITH Y/N Y/L/N!" He screamed out loudly gaining the attention of some stewardesses and some passengers that were all turning to look at you both now.

"Jungkook. Your contract-"

"I'll rip it up if it means I lose you I don't care! I need you in my life Y/n please," He pleaded with you, gripping onto you as he pulled you into his arms, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you close to his body.

"You're all I want. I didn't kiss her, she tried to kiss me and she unbuttoned her clothes." You stared into his eyes and you smiled weakly, he had always been a terrible liar which was how you knew this was the truth.

"I'll tell Sejin I want no part in it, that I want our relationship to come out. You're the only one I care about," He promised before bringing you into a passionate kiss in the middle of the airport. 

"Come back with me, we can spend all our time in your room." He said to you as he kisses your lips again, looking into your eyes and smiling weakly. 

"You'll be in trouble," You tried to tell him but he shook his head, 

"I don't care, I have you and that's all I care about," He whispered as he took your hand in his and began leading you out of the airport and towards the taxi that was waiting for you both to get inside of. 

The very public relationship between Miss Ko and Jungkook was cut short as soon as Jungkook told his manager that he was no longer interested in doing the contract anymore. You still quit your job with Miss Ko not wanting to work for her anymore, you weren't interested in working for someone who was willing to ruin your relationship with someone you loved. 

Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @fan-ati--c​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​ @rjsmochii​ @bisexualmess007​ @innersooya​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ @jin-from-the-block​

[spenciegoob]

11 Minutes

A/N: Hi this is lovely based on the song 11 Minutes by Yungblud featuring Halsey, so if you’ve heard that song before, man I’m really sorry for this one. If you haven’t... man I’m really really sorry for this one. Also yes this is really short I’m sorry.

Couple: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral!Reader

Category: Fluff/Angst

Content Warning: death of a major character, car accident, therapy

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.4K

____

“Spencer, the last two times that I’ve seen you, we’ve sat in silence,” the doctor pointed out, obviously annoyed that her patient, who ironically enough had more PhDs, was wasting their time. “I know it’s hard to start, but the best place to, is from the beginning.”

“Y/N. Their name was Y/N.” This was the first time Doctor Fredricks heard Spencer say anything besides their usual before meeting greetings, and after meetings scheduling. “I heard it all, you know?”

“Heard what, Spencer?”

“Everything.”

“Spencer, I promise you I am getting in the car now. You’ll get to see me in 15 minutes,” you laughed into the phone at your very impatient boyfriend.

“Actually, I’ll see you in 17 minutes and 42 seconds give or take traffic patterns and how awful your first attempt at parking is.” It had been exactly 9 days 7 hours 24 minutes and 43 seconds since you last saw Spencer, and he wasn’t the one counting down by the second this time. 

“Hey!” You barked right back. You weren’t the greatest parker in the world, but there was no need to mention it. “I could walk and skip the parking altogether.”

“No,” he whined, growing more impatient by the second. “That’ll take you an hour, and it’s been enough time since I got to see you. Please love bug, I take back the parking comment.”

“Alright, alright, alright. You’re getting off the hook...” you said as you put the key in the engine, but before you turned the car on, you mumbled, “this time.”

“I heard that!” You couldn’t stop the guilty giggle from escaping your throat and into the speaker of the phone. “Did I just hear your car turn on? I’m hanging u-”

“No, sh. I’m putting you on speaker. Don’t worry, doctor. I’m not on my phone while driving.” Of course Spencer would be nervous about you being distracted by anything while driving, he had the statistics lodged in his brain about car accident deaths.

“Did you know that roughly 1.35 mi-”

“Million people in the US die on the road with an average of 3,700 per day? How could I forget?” You cut him off, hearing this rant every time you went to change the station on your car radio.

“You’re on speaker, and I’ve been driving for 2 minutes already. I think I’ll be fine for the next 15, I promise.” You both knew it was ridiculous to stay on the phone as you headed over to his apartment. It was like the two of you couldn’t wait another second without the other, and thankfully modern technology granted you both that.

“It’s dangerous, love bug, and you know it.” Spencer just would not give up, would he? You’ve had your license for over a decade, and yet he held onto the handle next to his window as if he was your mother teaching you to drive for the first time whenever he was in the car with you. “Plus you speed.”

“What can I say? I like to live on the danger side. Plus do you really want to talk about car deaths, or can I yell at you for insulting my driving TWICE now,” you joked, feigning offense to Spencer’s truthful mean comments about your driving.

“I would much rather talk about how much I missed you,” he sweet-talked to you. While it was cute and all, you knew it was just so you would immediately forget about his little backhand driving comments.

“I missed you, too, my love.” Of course it worked. It was Spencer Goddamn Reid.

“How much longer?” The tone of a little boy in a candy shop whose parents just said no to pounds of sugar returned. You smiled and shook your head to yourself.

“According to maps, 13 minutes.” You let your mind wander as you stared out into the road ahead of you. How did you get so lucky with Spencer?

The day you two reached for the same book in a small library that was almost hidden to the street outside was the best day of your life. You and Spencer talked for hours about Emily Dickinson, other authors, composers and personal lives. It felt natural to spend time with him, and if you could, you’d spend every waking moment with him. That day, you hadn't even realized that 5 hours had passed, nor did you realize you never asked for his name in that amount of time.

“Don’t speed, but hurry up...please.”

“Spencer, how am I supposed to do those things at once?” The light turned red before you could run it, adding at least another 30 seconds before you got to see him.

“I’m 11 minutes away. The lights in this city just su-” You never got to finish your sentence, because the car behind you forgot to stop.

Your head shot forward, hitting the top of the steering wheel as your car and the pick up truck coming at you at 40 miles an hour made impact. Your car had involuntarily skidded in the middle of the intersection. Thankfully, however, it wasn’t a busy one.

“Y/N! Y/N, are you okay?!” You hadn’t registered Spencer’s insistent yelling through the speaker in your phone until the ringing in your eyes subsided to a small dull.

“Y-Yeah,” you croaked out. “Some ass just hit me from behind.”

That’s when you looked to the left of you.

They say when people die, they see a white light at the end of a tunnel, but you saw two. You saw two headlights coming in your direction at a speed that you knew was impossible to stop. The weight the truck carried along with the amount of force used to halt the tires in their place made it so that the driver had no choice.

“You know I love you, Spencer. I love you so much.” You stared death in the eyes, it coming in the form of yellow lights and a blaring horn you knew Spencer could hear on the other end.

“Y/N, I-”

“I never got the chance to actually say it back.” Spencer finished recollecting your death, something he only did in the comfort of his home, alone with nothing but the silent sobs that raked through his body.

“Spencer, you don’t have to tell me for me to know that you blame yourself,” Dr. Fredricks spoke calmly, too calm for Spencer’s liking. He had just told her about the worst moment of his life, and she still held the same tone as if she was saying see you next week.

“How could I not?” He started to get more upset by the second, his voice rising in volume and his body leaning forward. “How do I sit here, and not blame myself? I called them that day. I was the one that rushed them. Me, no one else, but me!”

“Were you driving either cars that hit them?” Spencer knew what she was doing. Dr. Fredricks was trying to get him to admit it wasn’t his fault, so instead of giving in, he stayed silent. She sighed before continuing.

“You need closure, Spencer. The wound is still so fresh that it will never start to heal if you don’t let it.” At this, Spencer sat back and fiddled with his fingers.

She was right. He needed to start healing instead of ripping the wound farther across this heart, cutting deeper each time.

“That’s all the time we have for today. You’ve made great progress this week, and I hope that we can follow that pattern next week as well.” Spencer smiled down at his therapist as he stood up to walk out.

“Oh, and Spencer,” Dr. Fredrick called out. He stopped and turned, expecting a reminder he didn’t need for next week’s time.

“Their last words were I love you. Don’t ever forget they meant it.”

Spencer finally let a tear run down his cheek, the first time he cried in front of anyone after your death.

He nodded before walking out onto the busy DC street. As he was walking, Spencer took out his phone, flipping it between hands, contemplating his next move.

‘Closure, Spencer. You need closure.’ He kept repeating in his mind.

Finding a bench, he sat down to search his contacts for the one name he couldn’t bring himself to delete.

Before Spencer could rethink his next move, he made it, pressing the call button. The phone didn’t even ring, it just went straight to voicemail.

‘Hey! Sorry I missed you, I’m probably asleep. Leave a message, but I can’t promise I’ll listen to it. Bye!’

“Hey, love bug.”

____

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[nonbinarychaoticstupid]

fifteen (hugging each other) if you want? (any ship/pairing/anything you feel like) aaaa

:0 skjckiskjdshd i was going to do carulia bc AA but then i fell into the lumity hyperfixation and this was born dksjdjksdjknjf this is the fastest i have ever written for a prompt

ft amity being ridiculously soft and in love and probably a lot of spelling mistakes idk

They drop Willow and Gus at their respective homes before midnight sets in - Amity even helps Gus crawl in through his window, which is nice of her, Luz thinks. She's too sore and tired to do anything except stand behind her, watching the street in case Odalia comes tearing down it on top of another abomination (probably with teeth this time, because who knows what happened after they ran away from the warehouse), gripping her sore arm and thinking about how her heart started pounding in her ears earlier, how she flushed when Amity grabbed her shoulder and hurried her outside and had to stare determinedly at the stars for a good ten minutes before she could look her in the eyes again, how -

"Luz?"

She jumps. It's Amity - of course it's Amity, she's been anxiously hovering around her and mumbling apologies for her parents since they were sure they weren't being followed - and she's holding out her hand and offering her a small, awkward half-smile, and Luz's heart gives a funny little jump, and then a second as she takes it and laces their fingers together.

And then a third, this time for a different reason altogether, when Gus pokes his head out of the window above them and waves.

Amity waves back (She really likes us now, Luz thinks, grinning up at the illusion of Gus's disembodied head propped on his balcony), and when they set off down the street, she feels her own grip tighten ever so slightly around her hand.

She lets out a long breath. Everything is fine. It's a beautiful, silent night, and she's wandering down the prettiest street in Bonesborough and holding Amity's hand, and there's still abomination gunk in her hair, but everything is... fine. Great, actually. And Amity is smiling, which is awesome, because Luz has never seen her smile at anything like that before.

She could get used to it, honestly.

Amity glances at her and smiles again, softer, slower. "You're making your idea face."

Luz blinks, resists the urge to reach up and feel exactly what face she's making. "Oh, am I? I have an idea face? That's pretty cool, actually. Or is it? Because then everyone knows what I'm thinking. Nah, still cool. I have an idea face. Yeah. I'm intimidating and cool. A bad boy, if you will."

She laughs. (Luz's heart does the funny little jumping thing again. She wonders, distantly, if it shows.) "The literal walking definition of a bad boy, you goof."

"Baddest boy in the Boiling Isles. Lesser witches cower before my star power."

Amity laughs again. She has a really nice laugh (like, wow), and it's still making something in her chest feel funny. "Luz the Bad Boy," she says, somewhat giddily.

"Azura the Good Witch and her edgy cousin." She squeezes Amity's hand, swinging their interlaced fingers between them. It's not often they get moments together like this, and she's starting to understand now what it is that's making her heart race and her breathing feel funny, and she thinks, a little distantly, that spending time alone with Amity is going to be - weird now, and - "I'd read that book."

"Please don't tell me the next thing we do is write it."

"Oh, we?" Luz turns to grin at her. "There's a we now?"

And Amity - Amity flushes.

"Yes - I, um - a - a we, sure, I don't - I dunno, uh - we as - as in - um -" She bites the inside of her cheek, glancing away, and Luz's heart does the jumping thing again.

"Wow, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she mumbles, grip loosening on her hand, and she chews on her lip and squeezes it tighter. It probably isn't the best move, but Amity... Amity seems to respond well to it - she squeezes her hand back, and when they round a corner and officially make it out of the main town, Luz notices that they're walking in sync. The realisation makes her smile.

"Amity," she begins, and Amity jumps.

"Hm?"

"Are you gonna go back to your parents tonight? I - I don't think that's really safe. You - you could - uh, you could stay with us, if you want. Just until school tomorrow. King won't sleep on your clothes if I tell him not to, I swear."

She smiles at her over the space between them - the same soft, slow smile that made Luz's heart do the Thing again earlier. "I - thanks for the offer, but I'll probably go to Skara's. She's used to it. Me coming over after an incident, I mean."

"Stuff like that's happened before?" Luz whispers, and she meant it to sound casual, not... tense. "I'm - I'm really sorry, Amity. I'm sorry for pushing you earlier."

Amity shrugs. "You didn't know. It's not like I go around telling people. And it's not - it's not a big deal, anyway."

"Amity, that necklace -"

"Luz," she mumbles, not unkindly. "It's not a big deal. I can handle it. I've got Edric and Emira."

"And your father?"

She shrugs again, slower this time. "He doesn't care. Mom could dangle us over the edge of a cliff and he'd be more concerned with the soil density than, you know, his children."

Luz can't think of anything to say except "I'm sorry." She reaches out with her free hand, touches Amity's shoulder, and she gives her a long, warm look. And they fall silent.

And Amity's head falls gently onto her shoulder.

--

The silence lasts for the majority of the walk home, right up until they make it into the woods, and then Amity lifts her head from Luz's shoulder and murmurs, "It's really pretty out here at night, isn't it?"

Looking over at her and saying yeah, it is would be the obvious and cliché thing to do, and also Amity would notice and probably laugh at her, so Luz stares determinedly again at the sky for the second time tonight and chokes out, "Yup. Really pretty. Love living out here. Especially at night."

Amity giggles, and it's the most undignified and adorable sound she's ever heard come out of her mouth. "You're a dork."

"Biggest dork on the Boiling Isles. Baddest boy around. My list of qualifications just keeps on growing."

She laughs again. And Luz realises that ever since they escaped the warehouse, she's been... relaxed. Not happy, because dealing with a mother like that probably couldn't leave her feeling particularly cheerful, but... open. Softer, warmer. And she thinks it's because of the absence of the necklace.

They stop not far from the Owl House, in the shelter of a large tree she knows, logically, isn't oak, but looks too close to be anything but. Amity's head falls back onto her shoulder again. She makes a soft, contented noise (and the Thing happens again, and she thinks, wow), and mumbles, "You're thinking about the necklace, aren't you?"

"I didn't say anything. That was all you. But yes, I am curious. D'you - d'you want to talk about it?"

A long, almost languid shrug. She reminds Luz of a cat sometimes. "She used it to talk to me. And, uh - and keep me in line, I guess. Threaten me where no-one else could hear it. Where Dad couldn't stop it. Yeah, he did try to stop it sometimes. Mostly because he seems to draw the line at physical injury he can't explain to the authorities." The corners of her mouth twitch up, and Luz has to shake herself.

"That's awful," she breathes, feeling small. "That's horrible, Amity, I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Amity detaches herself from Luz's side, and her hair is messy and sticking to the side of her face and when she steps away and turns to face her she keeps a hold of her hand. "Come on, I'll walk you to the door."

Luz smiles at her.

--

Amity lets go of her hand when they get to the porch. (Luz tries not to visibly frown at the loss of her presence.) She makes it all the way to the door, Amity trailing behind her with an odd, uncertain expression, and then something shifts a little within her ribcage and she spins around and flings herself into her arms, and Amity yelps and stumbles back a little, and then she loops her arms around her shoulders and hugs her back.

Luz likes hugging Amity.

It's such a simple thought, and it makes her feel so strangely delighted. They fit perfectly between each other's arms, and in the half-dark, lit only by the dim, guttering light from the lamps inside the house itself, and she has the feeling that the only reason Hooty isn't directly behind them making some snide comment is because Lilith is inside and entertaining him, thank G0d.

Something like five minutes pass - I've been hugging Amity for five whole minutes, oh my gosh - and then she hears, somewhere to her left, "Uh, Luz?"

"Hm?"

"This is nice."

She settles her head on Amity's shoulder. "It is."

"I think I have to let go now."

"Nooo..." She buries her head in Luz's hoodie, just gently enough to make her heart do the Thing again, and sighs, and Luz laughs.

"You okay there?"

"Don't get a lot of hugs."

"Mm. You can still stay with us tonight if you want." ('Don't get a lot of hugs.')

Amity shakes her head. "I'm good. Thank you, though."

"Thank you for saving my life today. You were awesome. You are awesome. I can't imagine doing anything like that."

"Luz," she says, warmly, softly, "You do it all the time."

And with that, she steps back, lets go of her entirely, and practically skips into the night, leaving Luz to stare after her and wonder why she left so fast, and spend the rest of the night agonising over this weird, warm feeling buzzing away in her chest.

[mandoalorian]

hi can i get a dio one shot where his gf is kinda little miss perfect like she always listens and never breaks the rules and her parents are always pressuring her to do really good but as she keeps hanging out with him and his friends she becomes more of her own person and she comes out of her shell more and starts liking the things he likes and maybe she stands up to her parents after they say he’s a bad influence for her ???

The Bet [Dio x F!Reader]

Author's note: Anon asked for a one shot but they’re getting a three part mini-series instead. 🖤 this is for all my lovely nonnies who have been asking me to write for Dio.

Warnings: mention of food and drink, brief mention of alcoholism, cigarettes etc

Word count: 2000

Masterlist

"You've been staring at her all day," Raven groaned, stabbing a curly fry into her pot of ketchup and shoving it in her mouth. "Just go talk to her."

Dio shuffled around uncomfortably. "I can't." he frowned, narrowing his eyes in your direction. There you were, sat at the cafeteria table alone, your head deep in a book. You'd left your lunch to one side, hoping to get back to it once you finished this chapter.

"Aw, does Dio have a crush?" Raven cooed teasingly, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Shut up," Dio retorted quickly. "You have ketchup around your mouth."

Raven's smile quickly faded as she pulled out a compact mirror to check her appearance. Dio went back to watching you. You were beautiful, and he just didn't understand how the world around you seemed to ignore you. He could somewhat relate. Although he had his group of friends, he still felt like an outcast. But you were always alone, your head in the clouds or stuck in some book. As far as he saw, you didn't even have friends. You spent your days cooped up in the academic library, studying or doing your homework.

"Pointless staring," Ash rolled his eyes, but Dio just swallowed, trying to dismiss his comment. "You could never get a girl like her."

Dio finally turned to face Ash, and even flicked a glance towards Raven who was still wiping ketchup from the corner of her lip, about to reapply her black lipstick. "I could get any damn girl I want." Dio folded his arms across his chest.

Ash hummed, scrunching up his nose. "Sure kid, whatever. If that's what you chose to believe."

Dio scoffed incredulously and leaned over the table. "You tell him Raven! I could get any girl!" 

Raven didn't look up from her mirror once. "Sounds like he's challenging you, Dio."

"Is that true?" Dio hissed. "You're challenging me?" his voice was sour.

Ash nodded his head and picked up a curly fry from Raven's plate. "We're all still up for getting wasted in the park tonight, right? Dio, if you can get ‘little miss perfect’ over there to join us, I'll take back what I said."

"That's ridiculous," Dio shook his head. "She's not gonna come with us. Sometimes I don't even know why I bother going with you guys," Dio looked back over to you— you really were little miss perfect; with the perfect smile and glistening eyes. When Dio looked at you, it was like nothing else mattered. The whole world turned into a blur, only, he could just about make out Ash's chuckle in the background. "Fine. I'll do it." Dio frowned. He knew if he didn't at least give it a shot (or better yet, succeed), he'd never hear the end of it from Ash and Raven.

Dio threw the crust of his sandwich back down on his plate and pushed his tray to one side before standing up. He brushed down his outfit, trying to make himself look somewhat presentable before speaking to you, and sauntered towards you. He could practically feel Ash and Raven's eyes burning into his back from the other side of the cafeteria.

"Hey," Dio greeted, clearing his throat and sliding down on the unoccupied seat across from you. You looked up from your book and your eyes met with his. "I'm Dio— I'm uh, I'm in your science class and math class. You might not know me but-"

"Trust me, I know you." you shot back before you could even let him finish. You turned a page in your book and pretended to seem uninterested. It was difficult though, because the mysterious boy with jet black hair and pierced ears was for some reason giving you the time of day. You— out of all people. You usually had good intuition and you felt in your heart that there was something not right about this interaction.

"What are you reading?" Dio asked curiously, peeking over to try and get a glance of the pages.

"1984." You mumbled back.

"Oh I love that book!" Dio exclaimed with a grin as he kicked his feet back on the table, knocking your dinner tray slightly. Now that comment made you look at him.

"You've read 1984?" you raised your eyebrows in disbelief.

"Well, read… watched the movie… same thing really," Dio shrugged and you couldn't help but giggle. He was adorable— and slightly dorky which was something you hadn't expected at all. "It's about how there's someone always watching you…"

"Yep," you nodded in affirmation and pointed towards the table where Dio was once sat at. "Kinda like how your friends have been staring us out since you came over." you waved at them awkwardly. Raven avoided eye contact, looking back down into her bowl of curly fries.

"Shit, I'm sorry about them," Dio sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "The truth is, Ash bet I couldn't pick you up."

"Why would he bet that?" You asked, sliding your bookmark into the novel and placing it down on the table. You suddenly felt vulnerable but at least Dio was being honest with you.

"Because, I can't stop thinking about you," Dio shrugged helplessly. "And I want to get to know you better. Would- would you be opposed to that?"

You thought for a moment, and then shook your head. Elated, Dio smiled and scrawled down his phone number on one of your napkins. No person had ever shown you any interest, and now one of the school's most intimidating guys wanted to ‘get to know you better’? You'd be foolish to lie to yourself anymore and pretend like this wasn't something you'd thought about before. You'd caught glimpses of him at the back of class, you'd try to repress a smile every time he quipped a sarcastic comment back at a teacher or distracted the class from their work.

He wasn't the type of guy you ever imagined ending up with, but you were still intrigued by his enigma. Dio might've only recognised you from science and math class recently, but you'd known him since preschool. Before he dyed his hair, got all those tattoos and piercings. He even used to live in your neighbourhood, before his dad died and he had to move. You'd heard stories about him since then, about how he'd ‘gone off the rails’. But he still seemed nice enough. Truthful, and he still had that sparkle in his chocolate coloured eyes that you remembered from when he shared the sandpit with you in elementary.

The napkin with his number on weighed you down until you got home. You placed it on your dressing table and sat down. It was staring at you— begging for you to call. You sighed, giving into the temptation and rang the number. After three rings, Dio answered.

"Hey, it's me." you said quietly, nervously biting your lower lip.

"Oh hey! I'm so glad to hear from you. I was beginning to get afraid that you wouldn't call." Dio admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. You overheard some chattering in the background.

"Are you busy?" you wondered out loud.

"I'm just with Ash and Raven. We're having a few beers in the park. You're more than welcome to join us."

You winced at the thought of joining them for beers in the park. You'd barely took a sip of champagne at your aunt's wedding, nevermind drinking bottles of beer with the most intimidating group of teenagers in the whole town.

"Oh I don't know Dio…" you mumbled.

"Hey, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. It'll just be nice to have your company— and I promise, we don't bite." you considered his words and sighed.

"Okay Dio, I'll be there in half an hour. Text me the address."

"Got it," Dio grinned. "See you soon."

Ash chuckled as Dio hung up the phone. "We don't bite?" Ash quoted Dio with a smirk. "Oh, she's really that innocent huh?"

"I want you both to behave," Dio warned. "Don't scare her away." 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, wondering if you should change your outfit to something maybe a little more alternative. You wanted to fit in with Dio and his friends, after all. However, you remembered Dio has come to you, interested in you just the way you were. And you swore that you weren't going to change yourself for anyone. You combed through your hair and grabbed your favourite pink lip gloss— one that you wore only on special occasions.

Your mother came in just as you were applying it. "And where do you think you're going?" she snarled, raising an eyebrow as you puckered your lips.

"Out with some friends." you shrugged nonchalently.

"What friends?" she questioned you further, her voice was highly strung and she stood with a hand on her hip.

"You remember Shane Morrissey from preschool?" you asked nervously. "Well- he goes by Dio now, and-"

"No." your mother narrowed her eyes. "That boy is nothing but trouble. Ever since his dad died and he and his mother got evicted, I've heard that he's turned to a life of crime. A petty thief. And his mother? An alcoholic."

You scowled at your mother's condescending and judgemental attitude. "You don't know him." you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest.

"And I'm not sure you know him either." your mother snapped back.

"I'm going whether you like it or not," you huffed, standing up and grabbing your jacket. "You can't shelter me your whole life." 

Before your mother could even reply, you bolted out the house and ran down the street. Luckily, it wasn't too cold, and the address to the park was only a ten minute walk from your home. You spotted Dio, Raven and Ash almost immediately. The trio were sitting on a small grassy patch.

You sat next to Dio and tried to engage in conversation, although you weren't really familiar with the things they were talking about. Dio helped you out though, taking his time to explain things so you understood and he encouraged you to talk about your own hobbies and interests. The second Raven tried to peer pressure you into drinking, you politely declined and Dio whisked you away from them. "Are you uncomfortable?" he asked you in private.

"No, I'm okay, I think," you nodded your head in affirmation. You really didn't want to go home— you were having such a good time with Dio.

"Because if it's too much…" Dio trailed off. "Maybe we can go back to my place?" he suggested. "I know Ash and Raven can be intense. So it would be just us."

Your gaze flicked back to Ash and Raven who were sharing a cigarette and you smiled. "Yeah, okay," you agreed. "I'd like that."

"Good," Dio replied softly. "Let's go then."

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[superhero--imagines]

* There’s so many ways this can go

* But I bet you’d meet him when you moved into his apartment building

* It’s in this -for lack of better words- shitty building in Gotham

* But it’s the best you could do with your budget, plus it’s the only building with a gate

* Not that it means much in Gotham, but something is better than nothing

* (Also if you have a pet/dog, they aren’t charging a pet deposit)

* Jason is someone who lives on the same floor, either next to you or across from you.

* I’ve got two headcanons about neighbor!Jason

* He’s either a friendly neighbor who engages you in small talk whenever you run into each other

* Or he’s incredibly reserved, you hardly ever see him and when you do he enters and leaves his apartment so quick you can’t get a word in

* Overall you don’t really talk to him much

* Honestly you’re probably a little intimidated by him

* He’s like 6’0 and 250 pounds of muscle

* He’s also a beautiful man, so you’re also a bit intimidated by how you’re attracted to him

* Jason barely registers that you’re his neighbor tbh

* So many people filter in and out of these apartments he’s stopped forcing himself to remember their names

* He only notices you when Dick is with him at some point, helping him carry some things from Bruce’s mansion

* “I’m starting to think you’re pretending to need help so you aren’t suffering alone”

* “It took you this long to realize that?”

* You come back from work at this point, in your cutest outfit, you’d had a good day so far

* Riding the wave of confidence you wave at them before disappearing into your apartment

* “They’re pretty cute” Dick whistles, and Jason looks to where you stood

* “I guess” well you did have a pretty face, and every once in a while he can hear your music from his apartment

* It’s always lo-fi beats or something relaxing

* it’s kind of cute too

* “Do they live alone?” Dick asks, and Jason shrugs

* You’re pretty quite, not many visitors, he likes that. The less people around the better

* “I think they have a dog.” He recalls seeing you walk a dog early in the morning, slightly concerned, this is Gotham after all

* “So no boyfriend?” Jason raises an eyebrow

* “Please don’t date my neighbor Dick.”

* “Why, do you want to be their boyfriend?”

* He shoves another box into Dick’s arms to get him to shut up

* Jason notices you a bit more after that, he notices you when you’re at the mailbox getting your mail, or when you’re climbing up the stairs with bags full of groceries

* Unfortunately everytime he sees you it’s followed with “oh, it’s that person that Dick thinks is cute.”

* Which usually makes him grimace.

* One day though, as he’s getting mail he notices a few of the letters he has have your name on them

* Looks like the mail person got the unit numbers wrong

* He sighs, more human interaction he doesn’t really want

* He’s considering just waiting for the post office worker tomorrow so he can slip it in your box, when he sees you in front of your door

* “Hey, I got your mail by accident” he says, sticking out the package. You grasp it with both hands

* Jason can’t help but think about how small your hands are compared to his

* well, someone would surely find that a little cute

* He doesn’t realize he’s staring until a finger digs into the corner, ripping open the plastic.

* “Oh cool, I’ve been waiting for the book for a while, thanks so much!”

* The smile you give him should be illegal

* He can feel his face grow hot, as he nods

* “N-no problem” he mumbles, escaping into apartment.

* It doesn’t really bother you, you go into your own apartment, excited to start your new book

* The back of Jason’s head rests against his front door

* Okay he gets it now, yeah you are pretty cute

* After that things get a bit smoother between you two

* “Is that a new book?”

* “Yeah, I picked it up on my way home, I’ve been meaning to read it for a while”

* “That ones okay, but I like the one the author wrote before better.”

* Jason’s pretty well read, so you two end up mostly talking about books

* “If you want I can write you some recommendations”

* “Sure I would love that!”

* And here comes that smile again, Jason’s not a Virgin, so he doesn’t understand why every time you smile his face erupt into flames and he can’t think right

* “I’ll leave it on your door later”

* Talking about books turns into trading books

* “Hey, you wanted to read Murakami’s short stories right?”

* “Oh, Thank you! Also I got your mail haha!”

* Jason’s starting to wonder if the postal worker is trying to set you both up

* “Hey, are you feeling okay?”

* Jason’s really not

* “I’m just a little tired”

* Just then a cough escapes him

* God dammit

* “Do you want to come in? I have some tea that might help”

* Tea does sound good, but he shouldn’t, adorable neighbor or not he should keep some distance

* “I also have some whisky, if you’re a believer in the medicinal effect of hot toddy’s.”

* Aw hell

* Thats how Jason finds himself in your apartment, sitting on your couch, looking at your rather impressive book collection

* He knew you liked to read, but he’s still impressed

* “Here.” You hand him his hot toddy and a coaster

* He takes a sip and grimaces

* “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

* Your face erupts in flames, you honestly weren’t. In truth you were expecting to get rejected. So to see him here, at your apartment, petting your (dog/cat/bird/etc) is pretty surprising

* “I’m kidding” Jason says, noticing you blush “I like them strong too”

* You’re a little nervous that things will get awkward, but Jason’s a pro at the art of conversation (when he wants to be)

* “You like Scott Fitzgerald?”

* From there the conversation falls into books, to music, to things that are deeper

* “I don’t know, I just thought I’d be further ahead by now yknow?” You say, leaning back in the arm chair.

* Jason’s sprawled out on the couch, no longer trying to make himself as small as possible

* “Where did you think you would be?”

* You’re both drinking straight whisky at this point

* “I don’t know, I just never pictured myself spending all my time at a job I hate. Living in an apartment where the floorboards are coming out, and the paint is falling off the ceiling”

* It’s true, the paint does fall off the ceiling. One time the drywall fell off in a clump and landed beside him when he was sleeping.

* “And honestly, I thought I’d at least have a boyfriend”

* Jason’s head pop up to look at you

* He can be your boyfriend

* The words are dancing on his tongue, but what comes out is:

* “Relationships are over rated, I haven’t dated anyone since 2016”

* “2018 for me,” you grin “I can’t tell if that makes me the winner or the loser though”

* You both laugh, and for a moment Jason thinks that you’re just like him, lonely in your own way

* Maybe you can make each other happy

* But he extinguishes the thought as soon as it comes to life

* He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable in your own home

* And as he takes another swig of whisky, he realizes he might be drunk

* So he lets himself laugh with you, excusing himself once it starts to get late.

* “Hey Jason, I realized I don’t have your number.”

* You give him your phone, and he has to try extra hard to make sure all the numbers are entered correctly

* “Cool, I’ll text you about what time is good for us to go to that book store you mentioned.” You say before closing the door behind you

* Jason doesn’t remember inviting you to his bookstore, but he still finds a grin curling onto his face

* You slide against your closed front door

* Your face is burning, and you feel way more embarrassed then you should

* He just looked so handsome when he was smiling, and he said he hadn’t dated anyone for even longer than you

* It doesn’t help that you had quite a few drinks, so you took a shot

* The worst that could happen was that you would have to laugh it off as wanting to be his friend

* Or wanting to know who his book supplier was

* Both were equally true

* You’re feeling even more embarrassed when you feel you phone buzz

* Jason: Do you have the weekend off? We could go then

[aeonghaseyo]

Your Trace, My Treasure

Summary: Marc and Nathaniel write and draw, respectively, on each others' notebooks because it's DEFINITELY a couple thing to do.

Word Count: 2105 AO3 link

Relationship/s: Nathaniel Kurtzberg/Marc Anciel Category: M/M Characters: Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Marc Anciel, Alix Kubdel (mentioned), Marinette Dupain-Cheng (mentioned), Juleka Couffaine (mentioned), Rose Lavillant (mentioned), Alya Cesaire (mentioned) Language used: English Author's Note: The creators of MLB really need to give the side characters screen time. The love square isn't the only romantic set of ships in the show and there are much more cute ships to write about. And so in my first time of writing a Miraculous Ladybug fanfic, it's about a ship that's entirely not part of the love square. This is my final workshop output from a creative writing class I enrolled in during the summer to get units in advance. Special thanks to my professor and two of my classmates for their feedback; I couldn't have made this work even more wonderful without their help. For the non-love-square ship and this being a successful workshop output thus far, I think I'm gonna give myself a pat on the back and more fanfic ideas to write. :)

Compared to the courtyard at Françoise Dupont High School where the lively chattering of students can be heard and the scrambling of footsteps were a staple, the art room was its own entire world of silence.

It was supposed to be a calming silence in that same art room where Marc and Nathaniel were to work on art-related endeavors of their own, but the former found this unwelcoming and rather deafening. It weighed down on his being that the atmosphere was unbearably awkward, much like he was most of the time even before he met Nathaniel and became his partner in creating comic books about Ladybug, Chat Noir, and their akumatized alter-egos who turned good and served as part of the superhero duo’s akuma-fighting team. Despite a remarkable development from being acquaintances, to newfound partners, and now to a bloomed romantic couple, Marc Anciel, as awkward as ever and still testing the waters on this newfound relationship, couldn’t shake this nagging feeling of inadequacy as someone’s significant other.

It just goes to show him that even though his romantic feelings for Nathaniel had been reciprocated at Day 0, it does not remove the remaining unease that Marc currently feels at Day 1. It was his first time in a relationship, and it was with the boy whose drawings he admired so much from the school paper. Simply put, it was too good to be true.

Unfortunately, the awkwardness Marc felt wasn’t masked enough, and Nathaniel immediately noticed from his place by the table beside his raven-haired beau. How could he not? It was very obvious, from the way Marc’s hand shakily distorted his usually refined, elegant script while writing the next chapter of their comic to the way his expression was contorted as if he was constipated. Nathaniel thought to himself that it was still an adorable sight, but clearly, something was up, and it wouldn’t do well to just ignore whatever troubled his beloved partner. Attempting to break the ice, the redhead cleared his throat, then spoke to call Marc’s attention.

“Marc.”

The novelist jolted in surprise at the utterance of his name. “Y-yes, Nathaniel?”

Leaning in for a better view of the page Marc was writing on, Nathaniel replied, “Your handwriting’s different.”

“W-wait, really?” blurted out Marc, quickly covering the page with his gloved hand. “I d-didn’t know you were p-particular with handwriting.”

Nathaniel placed a gentle, caring hand on his boyfriend’s with a smile aimed directly at him as he clarified himself, “It’s not that, Marc. I’ve seen it and it’s great. Right now, it just looks… wobbly. You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

Even if Nathaniel was a recluse in his own class, he could very well read into the emotions of people, but he doesn’t show it that often. As endearing as it was as a show of concern towards shy Marc, it was also overwhelming for the raven-haired novelist to have been the subject of such deep perception, even from the boy his heart palpitates for.

It was then that Marc’s fight or flight response reminded him in a split-second that he needed some sort of diversion for Nathaniel not to remind him of his own awkwardness.

“Isn’t it weird that our art teacher didn’t come here?” Marc rapidly questioned as he struggled not to look at the red-haired boy beside him. Despite this attempt to keep Nathaniel’s focus off of his disposition, glancing towards the door and not at Nathaniel did not help stop the blood from rushing to the novelist’s fair cheeks. His partner might be tired of this, of him, already, but that light chuckle of pure amusement coming from Nathaniel disproved that thought.

“Hey, hey, settle down Marc,” chided Nathaniel, “he might be running late. It’s okay for us to use the art room so long as it’s reserved around this time. Good thing that he reserved it at an earlier time than usual.”

With innocent green eyes, the raven-haired boy looked his boyfriend in the eye and asked, “H-he can do that?”

“Of course, he can. Let’s just wait for him, okay?” reassured Nathaniel, his left hand making its way on Marc’s right shoulder discreetly. “I’m sure my other classmates will arrive here shortly too.”

A shy smile emerged from Marc’s face as he replied, “Okay, Nath.”

Suddenly, a ringtone from the phone which was in Nathaniel’s pocket sounded audibly enough to catch both the boys’ attention. The redhead immediately fished out the device from his pocket and unlocked it, revealing three unread text messages from his close friend Alix.

Hey Nath! Something came up and I couldn’t swing by the art room. Love troubles again with Marinette. Juleka and Rose are also helping out with me so they can’t come.

I can’t believe that Marinette got invited personally by Adrien to his photoshoot but she can’t even give him her handmade gift or ask him out. Because she’s such a wuss, I got dragged here in the park by Rose because Mari needs all of her girl friends to push her towards Golden Boy Agreste YET AGAIN.

And apparently Alya alone couldn’t do it. Sorry! You’ll have Marc to keep you company anyway. Have fun! ;)

So much for those girls coming over to the art room. Nathaniel let out a sigh as he muttered, just enough for Marc to hear, “I stand corrected. The others aren’t coming.”

Catching on his partner’s crest-fallen demeanor and gazing at his face with sympathetic green orbs, Marc replied, “Guess it’s just the two of us for now.”

The next minutes were spent in silence again, with Marc continuing to finish a paragraph while Nathaniel sketched a bird’s eye view of the Eiffel tower as the background in one panel of the comic storyboard in his notebook. After several minutes elapsed, however, curiosity got the best of Marc, and so, with the tip of his pen lingering on the period of his last sentence, he kept on glancing at Nathaniel and the storyboarding he was working on. Besides the sheer focus that was evident in Nathaniel’s turquoise orbs, the shy novelist couldn’t help but notice the fine, steady strokes his beau’s hand were making with his fine-pointed mechanical pencil. So neat, so pristine. It’s amazing how he didn’t need an eraser to erase certain portions of his drawings over and over.

Marc had seen artist sketches himself of both people and objects, mostly done by his friend Marinette. As someone aspiring to become a fashion designer, she would be engrossed in sketching designs day by day, passion ignited by the sparks of inspiration she draws from around her. However, since Marinette’s sketches had obvious hints of disorder, as it normally is with crude artist sketches, it clearly contrasted with the otherwise structured sketches Nathaniel makes for his comic books. Marc, fully in awe, couldn’t help but take a break from his writing and stare at the red-haired illustrator’s creative process right next to him.

Meanwhile, Nathaniel, thanks to the strong, overbearing feeling of being watched, was getting overly conscious of his work. Keeping his composure to the best of his ability, he quickly turned to Marc and asked, “Do you need something Marc?”

Snapped out of his trance wide-eyed, Marc inwardly panicked. ‘Oh no, I must be staring at him too long! I hope I didn’t spook him too much.’

Scrambling for a sensible response, the novelist stuttered out, “I-i want to write something in your notebook.”

Setting down his pencil while his turquoise eyes were still on Marc, Nathaniel blinked inquisitively. “Oh, why would you want to do that?”

“B-because,” the shy writer reasoned, “I want to write something to remind you of me. T-that is, if y-you don’t mind.”

The red-haired teen averted his gaze from his partner as he remarked, “You know I don’t let anyone write on my notebook, Marc.”

This response triggered the disappointment that Marc had anticipated from the moment that they started continuing to develop the rest of the comic book they were working on together. It was even more daunting for the timid writer that their art teacher and the rest of Nathaniel’s classmates who were usually in the art room with them did not show up at that moment, or even at all. Marinette would tell Nathaniel that it’s a great idea for his newfound love to leave special traces on his personal notebook while Rose, somehow finding this romantic, would gush at this gesture with Juleka mumbling to herself in response. But what would have been the cherry on top for Marc at the moment is that if Alix was there to egg on Nathaniel, pressuring him to give in and let his boyfriend write something in his notebook. At least the comic relief from Alix’s teasing would help alleviate the collective awkwardness the couple felt at that moment. God, if only it wasn’t just the two of them in the art room at that moment.

But alas, he was alone, helpless and daunted, and he was facing the dragon which was Nathaniel, or whatever Nathaniel thought of him at that moment.

However, all of the fears and doubts that plagued Marc left him when Nathaniel continued with a small, endearing smile on his face, “But for you, I’ll make an exception.”

The novelist beamed at his boyfriend, green eyes sparkling with delight. “R-really?”

“In one condition.”

Marc took and held in a quick breath. “Anything, Nath.”

The illustrator picked up his pencil once again and uttered, with an outstretched hand right by Marc’s notebook, “Let me draw in your notebook.”

It was at that moment when Marc could feel his heart flutter, accompanied by the butterflies in his stomach as he opened his own notebook to the very last page and laid it out right by his beau’s workspace.

“It would be my pleasure.”

In a span of 2 minutes while Nathaniel was drawing on the last page of his boyfriend’s notebook, Marc, fidgeting and tapping his pen softly on his chin, racked his brain for a simple yet memorable piece to write on the first page of the illustrator’s notebook, which was left empty out of personal preference by its owner. Hoping to obtain bit by bit of inspiration, he glanced at Nathaniel, then at the empty page, then at Nathaniel, and so on and so forth. This went on, albeit unnoticed by the redhead, until mere seconds after, he scribbled away on the page once he had gotten attuned with his creative writing flow.

After both of them finished leaving their traces on each other’s notebook pages, Nathaniel and Marc gave each other back their notebooks and instantly opened them to where they each left their special mark. Struck with awe, the novelist softly traced the outline of the drawing and his emerald eyes were drawn to Nathaniel’s signature which he left underneath the recently drawn portrait. A tinge of pink formed on Marc’s cheeks as he admired every stroke that constituted this drawing of him done by none other than the boy he once looked up to, now loved, and who loved him back.

“No one’s written me a poem before,” Nathaniel uttered as he perused every line written by Marc on that now extra special page in his notebook, eyes taking in every word written in that distinct elegant script that served as an epitome of beauty that the redhead beheld. One particular line at the end of the writing, however, caught him by surprise: the words ‘Je t’aime’ accompanied by Marc’s signature in that same fancy handwriting the illustrator adored dearly.

Having regained his composure, Marc turned to Nathaniel and asked, “Do you like the poem? I-i thought of it on the spot so it might not exactly be to your liking, but-”

“I love it,” interrupted the red-haired teen breathlessly, wrapping an arm around his significant other and squeezing his shoulder. “Really Marc, you make the most wonderful written pieces.”

An expression as bright as day graced Marc’s features as he replied, albeit with a bit of shyness in his voice, “Y-you really think so?”

Nathaniel threw any single hint of hesitation in his being out the window as he placed a tender, loving kiss on Marc’s forehead. “I do. We’re meant to be partnered together, after all.”

And just like that, the uncomfortable awkwardness that haunted Marc was instantly warded off, and in a flash, he enveloped Nathaniel in a tight, warm, loving embrace and leaned into him in newfound solace. The silence in the art room has never been this comforting as the couple relished in this seemingly endless embrace together.