#i’ve had her concept in my brain for years now but i never followed through with fleshing her out

[tvrningout-a]

i’ll have y’all know that i’ve been researching raven creatures and i’m about to go stupid go crazy and add this lady to the blog when i get back

[snow-in-the-desert]

Dramione Recommendations

Ok so, 2020 has been A LOT but on a personal note one of the most surprising things to happen was me discovering Dramione fanfiction and becoming unashamedly obsessed with it. I really didn’t see that coming but I’m here now and I’m here to stay. 

I think I started reading in the Dramione fandom around mid July last year?? (In all honesty I’ve lost any true sense of time’s progression at this point so I could be well off the mark with that) And I’ve decided to compile a list of all my favourite fics I’ve read so far. Why? I really just want to gush over all the amazing writers I have found through this fandom because y’all deserve it. 

Side note: If any of the authors actually sees this post just dm so I can buy you coffee or post you writing supplies or something idk I feel like that’s the least I can do for all your amazing work x

Remain Nameless by @heyjude19-writing

Ok I have to start with RN because this fic is pretty much the sole reason I decided to create an account with A03 or a tumblr or just decided to get involved with this fandom at all. 

I headcannon this story hard. But I think even if you aren’t a fan of Dramione you should just read this because it is so unbelievably good and well written and poignant and Draco’s sarcastic personality in this is truly a thing of beauty in this - I relate to his inner monologue’s on a deep personal level. 

I could rave about this story any time, any day of the week, just ask me. In fact, maybe I’ll just start a HeyJude19 fan club to fulfill that urge.

There are so many elements that I love but for the sake of brevity, RN is a beautifully told story of Draco and Hermione finding love and healing in a post-war HP setting. Heyjude19 had the very special ability of making me want to simulatenously laugh, cry and swoon with the power of her words. Just stop what you are doing and go read it now if you havent already, ok?  

I also really enjoyed reading Bells on a Hill, Beers, Potions and Unwise Notions and A Shift in Focus, if you are looking for smaller fics, definitely give these a go. They are all funny and heartfelt stoires that will make your tippy toes wriggle with glee. 

The Rights and Wrongs Series by @lovesbitca8

The Right Thing To Do, All The Wrong Things and The Auction are the holy trinity of Dramione writing. I have christened it thus, so mote it be. And frankly I’m not interested in any other opinion than that one, thank you very much!

After reading this series I don’t think I’ll be able to look back on the orginal HP books without thinking of Hermione’s and Draco’s memories of their time at Hogwarts in these fics as anything other than strictly cannon. 

So many things to love about this series but I think one of the major highlights was Hermione and Draco’s use of occlumency. LoveBitca8 created such beautiful visuals with how occlumency works as a magical practice and seeing Draco and Hermione so devoted to eachother to the point of safeguarding their inner most feelings to protect eachother was unbelievably romantic and poetic. 

Also the smut is divine ;)

Manacled by @senlinyu​

My heart will never be the same after reading this story. Like I actually can’t think about this fic without getting a lump at the back of my throat. I have never felt so emotionally ruined after reading anything, compared to the likes of this fic. Just please, please read it. To badly quote HP, reading Manacled will make you suffer but you’re going to be happy about it.

The flashbacks are a rollercoaster in of themselves but the way Hermione inadvertently refers to them when she is still in a state of memory loss was so heartbreaking to read. My heart still aches for them both. Also its a truly satisfying to see Draco and Hermione written in a way were they are both so fiercly protective of one another. They make my insides go soft. 

I also really enjoyed Snow Fall, Now Is A Gift and All You Want by the author but to be honest anything written by Senlinyu is always thoroughly enjoyable and worth a look. 

The Erised Effect by @adaprix​

Ada is QUEEN of dramione smut but ‘The Erised Effect’ is top tier. Its equal parts funny, romantic, sentimental and oh so sexy. Ada really knows how to build and build on sexual tension and doesn’t disappoint on the final delivery. I’m a big admirer of her writing style and just veraciously read whatever she posts but ‘The Erised Effect’ is just golden. A must read. (Also Pansy’s sexual fantasy in this story is a visual I don’t think I’ll ever be able to remove from my brain so thanks for that Ada)

Also quick side note: Adaprix’ stories were the first I read when I was looking into this fandom and it was enough to get me hooked on the pairing from the get go so I have that to thank Ada for too. I remember devouring all the stories she had posted to A03 and when I was done I was like... now what am I supposed to do with my life?? And that’s basically when I began to look deeper into the fandom and thus the course of my life in 2020 changed for the better. 

Some other stories I love by her are Break for Me, All My Sins, The Big 4-0, The Fucklust Series and The Flat in Bath. 

Clean by @olivieblake​

This 6th Year AU where Draco and Hermione work together on a class assignment and end up falling in love had me feeling all kinds of ways when I read it. I almost don’t know where to start but I think one of the stand out things for me was how immersed I felt in reading it. 

Hogwarts is captured really well, you get a good sense of class atmospheres, character nuances and behind the scenes of events that happen in HBP but from a Draco and Hermione’s perspectives. It’s well executed and intricate tapestry of a fic. With an excellent plot twist ending! 

Also Hermione and Draco’s relationship in this is equal parts fluffy and smutty and it just ticks all the right boxes that you want to see for those characters ;)

Breath Mints / Battle Scars by @onyx-and-elm​

The angst in this one is just *chef’s kiss*

God I love this fic. The way Draco is portrayed is very true to his defensive and tetchy character in the original books but he is also given so much more depth. The way his diary entries are written are just so well executed. It’s a true testament to the author’s creative writing skill. And I LOVE how even though Draco is clearly in such a messed up place, he still has a basic level of self respect and dignity that he won’t tolerate being used or undervalued in his relationship with Hermione. 

Yep, I really love Draco’s characterisation in this one if you can’t tell.  But Hermione is also well written too. Her stuggles and trauma of returning to Hogwarts after war is described in a believable and grounded way. And my heart definitely ached for them both. I just wanted to wrap the pair of them in a big fuzzy blanket and tell them that everything will be alright. 

WANDS OUT! by @persephonestone​

This murder mystery / Dramione / Theo x Harry / AU crossover is everything I didn’t know I wanted until I read it. I felt like I was picked up and plonked right into an alternative dimension where all the characters of HP are just living it up in an Agatha Christie novel. 

It’s a funny and clever story that I found refreshing to read amongst all the other fanfics that are usually cemented in the HP timeline or universe. Theodore Nott in this fic is perfection he should be written like this in every fic from now on in my opinion. I couldn’t stop giggling any time he had a scene in the story.

And the ‘only one bed’ trope in this fic is 10/10. I don’t want to give spoilers but ohmygod. It hits all the right notes. 

The One With Technical Difficulties by cassielassie 

Cassielassie has an excellent three part series of Dramone called ‘The One with...” but I have to give special credit to this story in particular for one main reason. ELEVATOR TROPES. I can’t get enough of em. I think I have my early childhood viewings of NCIS to thank for my obsession with elevator tropes they just do something to me that simply cannot be explained with mere words. The palpable sexual tension of being in a broken down elevator with an ‘enemies to lovers’ pairing, a heated arguement breaks out followed by a discovery of mutual feelings and a romantic embrace...

Eugh. It gets me everytime. And this fic is no exception. I loved it for all the reasons I’ve already stated above but also for the attention to detail in Draco and Hermione’s careers makes this one particularly immersive. The dynamics between them established in this one-shot are convincingly portrayed and the chemistry between them is so undeniably hot. 

The Light is No Mystery by @masterofinfinities​

Yooo if you want to read a dramione fic that is a deep dive into Pureblood culture and Post-War recovery but is also a perfect allegory for discrimination and today’s political landscape of moral grandstanding for votes then look no further than this one. 

This story has a bit of everything. Intrigue, mystery, ptsd and recovery, enemies to lovers / secret relationship, government conspiracy and humour, to name a few. I eargerly await every update to this story and am anxious to know how it ends!

The Eagle’s Nest by HeartOfAspen 

Finally! A fic that gives me the Ravenclaw representation I crave. I think I could recommend this fic on the lore depicted of Ravenclaw house alone. ‘The Stacks’ and Rowena Ravenclaw’s own ‘come and go room’ are just such cool details that I could see being real in the HP universe. 

This fic is so cosy and makes me feel like I’m just popping back into Hogwarts for another year. You get to see all the usuals like prof. Mcgongall, Nearly headless Nick, PEEVES, Hagrid, as well as learn more about minor characters from the other school houses. The story follows Hermione going to her day to day classes and there are interesting concepts about magic and alchemy that are explored. 

Draco and Hermione’s relationship in this one is of course very fluffy and heartfelt. But it’s the attention to detail that really makes this fic outstanding and the experience of reading it feels fleshed out and true to HP universe.

A shorter fic by HeartofAspen that I recommend is one called Set in Stone, it has an adventurous, Indianna Jones vibe to it, that I am so down for. 

Teachable Moments by @purplesugarquills

In this fic Hermione is an innocent little virgin determined to learn everything about sex. And Draco Malfoy is her tutor. If that isn’t enough to get you on board then I don’t know what is. Both Heartfelt and Steamy. PurpleSugarQuills writes smut so well but it’s the progression of their growing attachment and the nervous treading of new uncharted waters of romantic relationships for both of them that just adds a whole other level of feels to the story. Also chapter 9 is like reading poetry - its so good. Eugh just give it a read if you haven’t already.

Les Pèlerins by @pacific-rimbaud

This story is high art. It’s transcendent. Reading this story feels like the emotional equivalent of standing around a hundred glowing fairy lights, sipping hot cocoa and being wrapped in the loving embrace of a s/o. I can’t speak my praises highly enough or even become passably coherent in my words when I try to articulate a review. 

From the very first paragraph I felt like I was just whisked away on a Parisian holiday and I’ve never even bloody been to Paris but damn it if this story didn’t make me feel like I was there. The writing style is just so tactile and intense it’s like I could feel the cold winter air brush against me as I read it. Eugh I just completely fell in love with the story and the writer. 

New Year’s resolution. Read everything PacificRimbaud has ever posted online. 

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Can we take a moment to talk about what a tragic character Minerva is? Y’all know that for the longest time I haven’t been the biggest fan of her, and honestly I’m still not? but I think I might’ve had a breakthrough on why that is. 

Whenever I’ve asked around to see why people find her so appealing or why they consider her their favorite, I’ll get answers like, “she’s such a complex character and she deserved a redemption arc!” or “she should’ve come back to the school with us! Let Minnie be happy, you cowards! Telltale did her dirty! I could write paragraph after paragraph about her!” all sorts of things along those lines… but like, no one seems to want to actually talk about her. I find that interesting? Since when I do follow up with a “care to explain further?” I get nothing. Radio static. Like…. no, talk to me please, I just wanna understand-

Minerva within the context of TFS is such a tragedy. She grew up in a school for troubled youth where all the adults left them for death at the start of the breakout, they had walkers trying to eat the living all around them, and I’m sure she saw her fair share of traumatic violence and despair… but on the bright side, she always had her twin sister, Sophie, and little brother, Tenn. She had her friend and eventual girlfriend, Violet. She had music, and a dorm full of pretty paintings done by Sophie. She and Louis composed a song together to make everyone feel better. There are worse places to live than the school. 

Then one day she got traded away to a bunch of raiders against her will, having no idea what the hell these people were gonna do to her and Sophie. They were made to be soldiers to fight in a war that had nothing to do with them. The delta fucking broke her. If we’re to believe Lilly’s story about the twins, they started their brainwashing process early on when Sophie was still alive, and it seems like Minerva was easier to control as Sophie was still planning a way out and causing trouble. Then, when Sophie convinced her to steal a boat and get the hell out, they got caught and the delta forced her to murder her own twin sister. 

Like…. I’m sorry, not only did Minerva kill her own sister, but she was made to believe that was the right thing to do? That line she says about how she had to prove her loyalty to the place she calls home? That shit’s ingrained in her brain, you can tell that isn’t the first time she’s heard or said that very thing. That is what made her family to the delta. Delta is her home now, her family. Sophie was just a thing that needed to be dealt with. You keep your head down, do as you’re told, and you survive.  You survive and you get to go home, eat a hot meal, take a shower, and be with your delta family.  If not, you end up like Sophie.

What’s also fucked is that Minerva actually cares about these people now. Think about that. After everything they did to her and made her do, she’s been trained to see them as her family and obey. When you save Louis and he kills Dorian, Minerva actually cries out and is visibly hurt by her death. When she’s with the other raiders on land, she's screaming at walkers to get away from them. She cares about the people who made her kill Sophie… and no one ever talks about that??

She fucking hates Clementine. Clementine is just another thing in Minnie’s way. I know the part of the fandom likes to ship these two together and they think it’s hot when they fight and shit, but within the canon text, Minerva wants Clementine gone. Dead. She is the thing stopping her from having her old family merge with her new family. If Clementine hadn’t made them fight, they all would’ve been captured and they’d all be a delta family now. She would’ve had Tenn back. 

Clementine is the problem, she made everyone fight back and that’s why people are dead. Minerva hates her for it… it’s not a “I hate you but like the sexual tension, y’know?” that I see people pretend it is, it’s “you are ruining everything and if I have to, I will kill you myself and I won’t give a second thought about it when they toss your body overboard.”

Like….. seriously, think about how fucked up all of this is. Minerva is a husk of who she was before she was taken away. Sure, you do have to keep in mind that when Tenn and Violet are describing her, their sights are a bit clouded, y’know? But I do believe that she was someone who was kind and cared about people, she wanted to make people feel safe and comforted. 

Now she’s a brainwashed soldier who won’t help the people she used to call friends when they’re about to get limbs cut off. She won’t hesitate to knock someone unconscious or threaten a child.  She’s willing to trick them into being captured with no regard for what’s going to happen to them. … all she knows is this was the mission, and now they all get to be together again back at the delta. 

Then when she finds out there’s a bomb on the boat, she ditches Violet to blow up with it in order to make it to land herself. She loses her shit seeing everyone die and gets her face chewed off by a walker… and then she tries to blow Clementine and AJ up with a grenade. 

Oh, and who can forget the fact that she tracks the group down with plans of murdering Tenn so that they can go to a better place together? And she’ll take down anyone who gets in her way?

Like….. jesus christ, Minerva’s waaaaay too far gone. It’s awful. 

I think that’s what stumps me about why she’s so loved in the way that she is. It’s not that I don’t understand why she’s complex and well-written, I get that perfectly fine. She’s a compelling character study when you comb over all her scenes and take different factors into account.

What I don’t understand is why we tend to just throw everything interesting about her away? For what? 

These days, I never see anyone talking about any of this unless they’re insisting she deserved a redemption arc which…. Eh, I’ll touch on this later. What I mostly see here and mostly other platforms is how great it would be if she and Clementine made out, or hey what if she and Violet got back together if she did come back to the school? Or they just….the best term I have for this is “uwu-ify.” As in she’s reduced to a caricature of a tall, pretty, mean, white lesbian who has “good damage.” 

People insist that Telltale are cowards or bastards because their predictions of her turning on the delta to save Clem and crew didn’t happen. Instead, Minerva ends up being the final baddie you gotta get away from, and she ends up taking someone down with her. But did you really expect to just do a 180 and suddenly decide being brainwashed for over a year was lame and Clementine and friends are cool? Gonna help them out and be with Tenn again? Sure, there’s some left over trauma but love conquers and fixes everything, right?

Uh…. no? That’s not how people work? Honestly, if we entertain the idea that Minerva wasn’t bit and somehow didn’t murder Clementine when they all got back to the school…. romance is the last thing she is ever gonna think of??

I think that’s what bothers me most when reading these au’s and rants about redemption and the entire idea of clemerva as a whole. It’s the same thing that I see happen with Violet- Minerva only has value to fans if she’s in a wlw relationship. By herself, she doesn’t matter. They don’t care about her canon story, they don’t care about Sophie, they don’t care about discussing what could’ve happened if she and Tenn reunited under better circumstances or had a healing recovery together. But why?

Throwing a girlfriend at her isn’t some band aid that’s gonna cover up all the bad she went through?? Having an enemies to lovers romance with Clementine isn’t going to fix a years worth of brainwashing, trauma or the fact that she murdered her own sister and the delta told her she's proved her worth to them?? 

Having the support of those around her is a good thing, don’t get me wrong. The idea of the Ericson crew as a whole trying to help her out and do the best they can to accommodate her is bittersweet since there’s only so much they can do. They’re not trained therapists, which is what Minerva would need and plenty of years ahead of her to work through and come to terms with everything that happened as well as taking steps forward. I’m not saying that she shouldn’t have friends or that she couldn’t have a healthy romantic relationship someday... but that isn’t the solution, y’know? 

I don’t know how else to explain this, but it makes me feel weird that all of this stuff is flat out overlooked or doesn’t appear to matter to fans of her. 

Look, I get it. We all want these characters to be happy. AU’s are a thing, after all. Sometimes we want to forget about the bad things and focus on the good that bring us comfort. You wanna gush about the idea of an AU where the twins never got traded, the raiders didn’t exist, and Clementine got to meet them the way they were before? I feel that, AU’s are super comforting and fun to explore, and my point isn’t to try and shame anyone who has an AU you like this. 

Hell, you think I don’t have days where I pretend mute Louis isn’t a thing because the whole concept of Louis having his tongue cut out of his mouth breaks my fucking heart? No, lot’s of days I just want to forget everything about that route, I want to set aside all the bad and just intake as much clouis fluff as I can get…. But that doesn’t mean I always ignore or refuse to acknowledge the bad just because I don’t like it. I fucking hate the fact that Louis loses his tongue when you don’t save him, but guess what? That’s a canon route you can play, just like any other route, and the possibilities that come with a mute Louis are vast and compelling. 

This is how it is for me… my favorite characters are my favorite for a reason, and I take all the bad with the good. Louis isn’t perfect, and I don’t want him to be. I was to dive into his backstory about why did that to his parents, I like to talk about what he went through with Marlon’s murder and his feelings about AJ and Clementine at the point, I like to view his love of music as bittersweet. He can stand on his own, and while he is a love interest for Clementine, that isn’t his only purpose. 

I know everyone’s different, they express their love for characters in their own ways, but I do have a genuine question: do you guys actually like Minerva?

Believe it or not, I’m not trying to step on toes or make everyone feel defensive which I know is how people will react to this. “You’re just saying all of this to make us feel bad for shipping clemerva! You don’t even like Minnie so you don’t get to say shit!” yeah yeah, I hear you and look, it’s true that she’s not my favorite character. I know I’ve said I hate her in the past but upon reflection and throwing out fandom interpretations.... I don’t hate her. I get it now. She’s a great character study to dissect and analyze and I think she deserves more than what the writers and the fandom have given her. 

And yeah, what I do hate is clemerva, and I’ve explained why. It’s not for me, it makes me uncomfortable, but at the end of the day, who cares? Me not liking it doesn’t mean anything to those who create AU’s for them. They have their reasons, they can do as they please as long as they’re not hurting anyone. I’m just here pointing out things I see and things that bother me in hopes of starting a discussion.

There’s my ramble about Minerva. I’m gonna go make some tea now. 

[interact-if]

Day 2 of Pride Month interviews! You know them, you love them…. give it up for Ames!

Ames, author of Attollo and Metamorphosis

Pride Month Featured Authors

“…and it was a singular, terrible thought, which burrowed itself into your mind like an engorged maggot. This was not a man nor a monster. This was a concept, an ideology, a terrible myth, which had personified itself to stand before you now.You were, to put it simply, screwed.”

After several years of radio silence, you receive a message from your younger sibling that carries a strange sense of urgency to it. Either out of familial concern or boredom, you embark on a journey from your residence to your sibling’s apartment in New Hampshire to see what’s going on and, hopefully, be home before the weekend.

Too bad it’s never so simple.

Demo: Attollo, Metamorphosis (TBA)

Tags: cybernoir, thriller

(INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT!)

Q1: Tell us a little bit about your project(s)!

Attollo is a cyber-noir horror set in a walled city off the coast of the Atlantic that’s been a victim of a nuclear disaster. After several years of radio silence, you receive a message from your younger sibling that carries a strange sense of urgency to it. Either out of familial concern or boredom, you embark on a journey from your residence to your sibling’s apartment in New Hampshire to see what’s going on and, hopefully, be home before the weekend. Too bad it’s never so simple. Attollo is a 17+ game that deals with heavy topics and a lot of moral questioning; from cults to corrupt government, it has no shortage of monsters in the dark—both metaphorical and literal.

Metamorphosis is a crime/horror story based in the world of crime scene cleanup, where there are three simple steps: Get the call, clean the scene, and don’t ask too many questions. These are the rules that you live by under the employment of Noctua’s Crime Scene Services, and you credit them for keeping you alive.

However, after a routine house call brings forth nightmares of memories that are not your own, you find yourself pulled deeper into Noctua—a city of both monster and man—in a bid to find out the truth behind the murder of Deirdre Callow, and better yet, how her memories came to be yours. Your job mandates that you don’t dig too deep—but could this finally be the exception?

Metamorphosis is 18+ and will have explicit content; follow the last moments of a stranger to find out not only who took her life, but how this connects to the underbelly that Noctua works so hard to hide.

Q2: Why interactive fiction? What drew you to the medium?

Lmaoo, oh man. I think it really all began last summer when I first found examples of interactive fiction. I don’t even remember how I came across it, it might’ve been that I saw it mentioned in a post or I saw it as a tag on Itch.io, but at some point, last summer I began to investigate it more. I think what really drew me in was the ability for the player to control the narrative; it was like playing an old RPG, but modernized, and the fact that I could see a story unfold that was influenced by my decisions was so fascinating to me. Not to mention that IF allows so much more character depth than regular novels, in my opinion.

I’m 99% sure my first exposure to interactive fiction was through the game Crème de la Crème (a fantastic game, by the way) and I just enjoyed it so much that I went haywire for the genre. Then Temple of the Endless Night came out (another fantastic game that I’m looking forward to!), and that was really the turning point for inspiring me to give it a go. Now, almost a year later, here I am working on my own two games!

Q3: Are your characters influenced by your identity? How?

My bisexuality doesn’t have much of a major influence on the game, but I do think it contributed to the way that I view and write relationships. I figured out my sexuality around high school (I kissed a girl in high school and found out I liked it just as much as when I kissed a boy) and since then I’ve been very involved in the LGBTQ+ community of both my hometown and uni town.

I think this involvement, like being able to hear about other people’s experiences and share my own, has made me feel a lot more comfortable writing some of the characters in the game. Although Attollo and Metamorphosis both don’t focus heavily on relationships (both have murder in them, which I feel is a bit more pressing), I do keep the option for any RO’s to be romanced by anyone, regardless of gender or preference, because that’s simply what I’ve become so attuned to. In terms of side characters relationships as well, I think my involvement and my own experiences have allowed me to write far more diverse relationships than I might have, and I think that this has also allowed a more fulfilling experience for players when reading through.

I also have incorporated some struggles that I’ve faced before because of my identity into the games. For example, I and a few others have faced issues with religion due to who we are, and I incorporate this into both games. Dreamwalker, Pariah, and Sysba from Attollo all have shadows of this experience in their character origins, and Ilali and Ariston from Metamorphosis has a major point involving identity and beliefs. Both games also have undertows of ostracization and division between groups, which is also something I’ve experienced in the past. Being able to grapple these moments and control them via a narrative has been eye opening for both myself and others involved, and I’m hoping it can be a learning experience for the readers as well.

Q4: What would you like to see more of in LGBT+ fiction?

I think, now, the amount of progress in LGBTQ+ fiction is expanding at a wonderful rate. There are so many interactive fictions with options to select sexuality, select gender, select beliefs, etc. However, despite this expansion, there’s still a good deal of backlash against some aspects of LGBTQ+ fiction.

For example, as a bisexual woman who has dated men, I know there are some individuals who may not consider me a part of the LGBTQ+ because of this aspect. Not only is this incredibly disheartening, but it’s a viewpoint that I think should be educated against, and fiction is a fantastic pathway to do this. Another example I can think of is a friend of mine who identifies as asexual but is sex-neutral rather than sex-repulsed. Most people can’t believe her when she says this, and she often faces backlash for this declaration as well. This is another thing that I think that, with exposure through a medium such as fiction, can be worked on.

What I’m trying to say here is that I think LGBTQ+ fiction can be a brilliantly educational platform—if used right. Although it already teaches so much with what it has, I think having that representation of different subgroups of sexuality, of their experiences and beliefs, so people can become aware and knowledgeable of these options, is something I’d like to see more of.

Q5: What or who are some of your biggest inspirations?

Oh man, I struggled to list off inspirations because I know I have some, but as soon as someone asks me who they are my brain just goes ‘brrrrrr’ LMAO.

In terms of the games that I write and the worlds that I build, I think David Lynch and Robert Chambers are probably the two that I somehow incorporate. Attollo and Metamorphosis both have a lot of surrealist horror, which are what these two really specialized in. Shirley Jackson is also another person who inspired me a lot when it came to the writing and creation of Attollo, especially the intrapersonal relationships between the characters.

In terms of life, this is something else I really struggle to answer. I don’t really have celebrity inspirations or anything like that, but I do get inspired by my close friends and sister a lot. Seeing them go through the struggles that they face and absolutely thrive really drives me to push through my own struggles. They’re the strongest, most brilliant group of people that I know, and I consider myself incredibly fortunate that I can be a part of their lives. Not only that, but we also all collectively encourage each other to push further and to chase our dreams (as cheesy as that is LMAO) and that’s something that I think is another stroke of good fortune. I struck gold when I met them, and they’re some of the biggest inspirations in my life.

Q6: What’s a super vague spoiler for your current project?

For Attollo, I’d say ‘Home is where the heart is.’ For Metamorphosis, to quote John Berendt, ‘Always stick around for one more drink.’

Q7: Lastly, what advice would you give to your readers?

What advice would I give to you all? Oh my, I’m not exactly a wise woman here, but I’ll do my best to give you something lmaooo. I think what I really want you to walk away with, from both my stories and this interview, is that if you’re passionate about something, then share it with the world. Don’t let anyone deter your passion.

I remember listening to this painter once who commented to his friend how he ‘really liked painting’, and his friend’s first response was ‘but are you good at it?’. He then compared this to the scenario of walking; would you say, ‘but are you good at it?’ to someone who said, ‘I really like walking’? No, because it simply wouldn’t make sense, and it doesn’t make sense to say that to anyone who’s doing something out of passion.

To put it simply—if you love something, then don’t let anyone take that passion from you. I began writing these stories because I’m passionate about Attollo and Metamorphosis; I love each character, each bit of lore, and I share it with you because I want you all to enjoy it as well. Am I the best writer? God, no. Does everyone like what I write? Definitely not. But will I let this stop me from writing, from enjoying what I’m doing? Never, and I want you to do the same.

Explore your passions, embrace your passions, and let what makes you happy continue to do so

[jimlingss]

Speaking of AUs and plots, OC damages someones car by accident and instead of money they want to be paid back in dates.

Anonymous said: For the request: “I can make you a deal you can’t refuse.”

↳ Auto Date Claim

2.3k || 100% Light Fluff || Kim Seokjin

Seokjin grips the steering wheel.

He blows through the yellow light even though he should’ve stopped but there’s no time to waste, not when the last thing he wants is to be late for the meeting. Everything has to be perfect.

Which is what makes this phone call the worst.

“I’m not coming.”

“What?!” Jin looks to the display screen where there’s Jisoo’s name as if he can telepathically send her his exasperated expression. “Why not?!” 

“You know why. I don’t want to be a doll that’s supposed to sit there silently, Seokjin. I’m done.”

“No. Please. You know how important this meeting is to me. You can’t be doing this—”

“Oh, yes I can.”

She hangs up. Seokjin groans, the urge to slam his forehead against the steering wheel overwhelming. But he resists and when he gets to the next red light, he frantically calls Yoongi.

The dial tone rings over his car speakers and then the man picks up. Yoongi is calm by nature and there’s little that can faze him. But now, his voice pitches up every so slightly. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you on your way to meeting the Jeon’s?”

“Yeah, but Jisoo just called to tell me she’s not coming.”

“Oh shit.”

Family. Marriage. Commitment. They’re essential pillars for the Jeon’s who’ve been married for fifty years. They’re old school, the epitome of tradition. The plan was for Jin to look like a family man too, to add to his own integrity and to show that he shares the Jeon’s company values. And everything matters when it comes to the contract they’ve been trying to sign for the past year. A minuscule detail like this could tip the scales and make the Jeon’s sign with the competitor instead.

“Is Irene there?” Jin asks as he drives. “Maybe she can come instead.”

“She’s already running an errand for Hoseok. Just...make something up. Maybe you can say—”

At the exact same time, as Seokjin stops for a red light, the entire car jolts forward without warning. He nearly slams his head on the wheel — this time, unintentionally. 

What the fuc—

“Yoongi, wait. I just got rear-ended.”

“What?!”

As if things couldn’t get worse today. Jin undoes his seat belt and climbs out of the car. The perpetrator of the accident also gets out and he looks at you who’s completely wide-eyed.

“I’m so sorry!” you screech in horror. “I was just singing to this new album and looking around, I’ve never driven on this street before and I wasn’t paying attention, I’m so so sorry.”

You come to look at the damage at his bumper and a gasp tears from your throat. It’s a Maserati.

You don’t know much about cars, but even you’re aware this is a luxury vehicle imported from somewhere in Europe. Germany. France. Italy. One of those fancy countries where you haven’t even dreamed of traveling to. You don’t know much but one thing’s certain — you’re so fucked.

As you’re losing your mind, Seokjin taps his foot and checks his watch. 

His eyes bulge when he realizes the hour’s almost up. “Do you have your insurance information?” he blurts, interrupting your internal meltdown.

“I-Insurance?” You deflate all at once. “I don’t.”

Seokjin sighs and glances over his shoulder. The Hwagae Hotel where the meeting was taking place was so close that he could practically see the entrance door from here.

There’s no more time to waste.

“I’m heading to the Hwagae Hotel.” He points down the street. “Do you want to talk about it there?”

You nod dejectedly and get back into your car to follow him into the hotel’s parking lot before you slow down traffic any more than you already have. Getting more angry drivers on your back is the last thing you need at the moment. At the same time, your mind scrambles for solutions. But it comes up empty.

God fucking dammit. You shouldn’t have been cheap. You should’ve just gone hungry for an entire week to get the car insurance. Why on earth did you think you didn’t need it?!

By the time you get out of your car again, you’re on the verge of tears.

You eye the expensive, sleek black car. Then your eyes stray to the stranger.

“I...I don’t have much money I can give you.”

Jin glances at his watch and then at you. He finally gets a good look at you. Or rather, he notices your simple skirt and blouse ensemble. In an instant, a light bulb flickers in his brain.

“You don’t need to pay if you follow me.” His head nudges towards the hotel and your eyes become rounded at the suggestion. You gawk at the door of the hotel and back at him within seconds, entirely horrified. Seokjin quickly clarifies, “I have a business brunch inside and I need a partner to go with. You don’t need to do anything. You can just stay silent and eat.”

Seokjin watches as you look at the car and then his crisp suit before you’re slowly coming to nod. “A-Alright.”

He turns on his heel and struts into the hotel lobby without waiting for you.

Seokjin wouldn’t necessarily call himself a spontaneous person, but when push comes to shove and it’s the last moment, he’s good at coming up with fixes. He prides himself on it, having been the person who jumped in at the last second to repair things on more than one occasion. 

Podium mic not working at the charity banquet? He ran to the nearby mall and bought a portable karaoke microphone at a booth. The client has a pollen allergy he didn’t know about? He threw the flowers on the table out the window when she turned around. The handouts for the shareholder meeting were forgotten? He announced they were going paperless. 

The point is: Seokjin will do whatever it takes. Even if his methods are unconventional.

He enters the lavish hotel restaurant, already finding the couple by the windows. He brushes past the hostess with a sparkling smile and peeks over his shoulder to make sure you’re still following after him.

“Seokjin!”

They’re an old couple in professional garb. The man is in a gray suit while the woman is in a modest navy dress. He doesn’t miss the Louis Vuitton purse next to her wine glass filled with water.

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Jeon. You as well, Mrs. Jeon.” 

He shakes their hands and at once, Mrs. Jeon looks at you with her brows raised. “And who is this?”

“This is my partner….”

“Y/N,” you fill in for him, realizing he doesn’t even know your name. You’ve been through your fair share of meetings, so you smile and shake their hands with ease. 

As strange as the situation is, you’re just relieved he wasn’t lying about it. You had the impression he wasn’t, but you were ready to hightail it out of here if he brought you into a hotel room.

“I didn’t know you had a partner, Seokjin,” the older man notes, impressed and curious.

Jin laughs. “Well, I’m glad you know now.” 

Everyone takes their seats and the waiter comes by to fill your glasses of water and ask if anyone wants a particular drink. Once he’s sauntered away, the woman across from you makes conversation. “What do you do, Y/N?”

So much for having to do nothing. “I’m an intern at JML.”

“Oh, I have a friend’s niece who works there. Are you looking to become an accountant then?” her husband asks.

“Hopefully.” You smile before lifting the glass of water to your lips.

“That’s so nice,” Mrs. Jeon sighs. “You young-ins should work and develop a career while you still have the chance. Heaven knows things become so much more difficult once you start a family.”

Family? It’s a foreign concept to hear considering it’s not a subject even in the realm of your concern. You manage to stiffly nod.

“How did you two meet?”

You almost spit out your water.

Seokjin reaches over to pat your back as you wheeze. “Are you alright...darling?”

You wipe your mouth with the tablecloth napkin. What was this guy’s name again? Seokho? No that wasn’t it. It had a J in it. Seok...ju? No….

“Seokjin, I’m fine.”

Mrs. Jeon watches the interaction through rose-coloured glasses and smiles knowingly. “My apologies if it’s an intrusive question. I just adore a good love story.”

“Actually, it’s a funny story.” Jin smiles as a sweat bead practically rolls down his face. “Y/N here rear-ended my car when I was on my way to a meeting and that’s how we got to know each other.”

He looks at you and starts to laugh. After a delayed moment, you join in and inwardly cringe at how awkward it sounds. Yet the old couple doesn’t notice.

“How long have you been together?” Mr. Jeon asks with a warm smile, hands threaded on the table.

You look at him and his laughter dies down. “T-Thr-Two years! Yes, two years.”

“Well isn’t that sweet,” she swoons to her husband who nods in approval. “Are you going to get married soon? It’s not good to let a young woman wait too long.”

If you didn’t choke before, you might again. This time from your own saliva.

Mr. Jeon hums. “Yes, I personally don’t think one should wait long if they know it’s the right person.”

“That’s right.”

“Well that’s good news,” Seokjin interjects before you get the chance and he suddenly blurts, “Because we’re already married.”

Your head whirls to him, neck nearly breaking from the whiplash. You gawk at his profile.

Mrs. Jeon gasps in amazement. Mr. Jeon appears intrigued.

As the proclamation leaves his lips, it’s already too late to take it back. Seokjin isn’t spontaneous. He’s just good at quick fixes, too good that they become permanent fixes.

The point is: Seokjin’s an absolute idiot sometimes.

“Really?! Where’s the ring?” 

“We’re getting it fixed at the moment. Y/N lost a bit of weight so it kept slipping off her fingers.”

He turns to you and you stare at him incredulously before deadpanning, “Right.”

“When did you get married?” Mr. Jeon asks.

“Recently,” Seokjin lies without batting a single lash. It’s not hard to pitch an idea or an outlandish one at that when he used to work as a door-to-door salesman during his teenage years and then a car salesman during his college years. 

Seokjin’s entire career has been built on convincing others.

“So you’re newlyweds then.”

You give him a look. Jin smiles. 

“Yes. We are.”

By the end of brunch, you know more about Kim Seokjin than you ever intended to know — case in point, you’re now aware of his last name. You know he’s three years older than you are, that he’s been working at his company for four, and he’s pretty high up on the corporate ladder but is still continuing to climb it. You even know about the possible contract between his company and the Jeon’s, and the open plot of land on Hwarang avenue that would apparently be the perfect location to expand the Golden Resort and turn it into a franchise.

You’re sure he knows way more about you than he’d like to know too.

“I’ll be honest, I was unsure if I wanted to sign with your company, Seokjin. But you’ve shown me you have a lot of integrity and a strong work ethic. I think our values are compatible as well.” Mr. Jeon shakes hands with Seokjin. “You’ll get a call from my office soon and I think you’ll like what you’ll hear.”

“Thank you so much, sir.”

“You’re a lovely couple,” Mrs. Jeon adds on as she looks at the pair of you standing next to one another. “I look forward to seeing you again soon, Y/N.”

“Y-Yes…”

The two of them bid their final farewells and Mr. Jeon lifts his hand to the valet across the lot. Mrs. Jeon hangs off his arm as their Cadillac is driven up to the door. They get in soon after.

It’s silent between you and Seokjin.

“So…..we’re married, huh?”

“I’m sorry.” He turns to you with a heavy sigh. “It was a really important client I have to sign with and they really value family and relationships.”

You nod. It doesn’t really matter now — what’s important is that it’s over. But one thing isn’t. “About your car….”

The both of you walk across the lot to his vehicle and he finally has the time to get a good look at the damage.

There’s a clear dent in his back bumper and a scratch. But luckily, there doesn’t seem to be much anywhere else.

“It’s a ninety nine thousand dollar car.”

You wheeze. “Pardon?”

“I don’t know how much the damage will be, but it might cost a bit.”

Oh my god.

Seokjin suddenly turns to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I can make you a deal you can’t refuse. I know you don’t have the means to pay for the damage, so you won’t have to. But in exchange, accompany me to business brunches or galas. It won’t be often and it’ll be similar to what you just experienced. You won’t have to say much and you can even eat for free.”

There’s a drawn out pause. You blink at him owlishly.

“I accidentally told him you were my wife and if you weren’t there from now on, it’ll look suspicious,” Seokjin explains. “It’ll be just for a little while. Maybe half a year? I’ll figure something out after that. How does it sound?”

You know you don’t have much of a choice.

You don’t have insurance and you don’t have money to pay out of pocket. If anything, the offer is generous and Seokjin seems trustworthy — especially considering you’ve gotten to know him in the past hour.

For all those reasons, maybe that’s why you nod. “I can do that.”

He smiles and you brace yourself for a whirlwind.

[thatshithurted8]

Marigold

Pairing: JJ x Introvertedreader!!

Summary:In which JJ Maybank pursues the shy and introverted girl he catches checking him out at Midsummers. 

Word Count: 3.1k 

Marigold Masterlist 

A/N: Since you guys loved my last JJ x Introvertedreader fic I decided to write another one with a different idea. I love this concept so much and hope to write more in the future.

The Pogues hated Midsummers. It was the one time every year that Kooks could flaunt their wealth without it seeming like they were bragging. However, they weren’t the only ones who hated it, you hated it as well. Considering your dad was close business partners with Ward Cameron you went every year. You and your family belonged to the country club it was held at, but you weren’t considered a Kook since you lived in a different township.

You sighed walking into the country club with your parents and brother. You were extremely proud of your fathers accomplishments, but socializing with random people drained the energy out of you. You would much rather stay at home chilling in bed while reading a book or watching a movie on netflix. And besides your parents would force you to hang out with Sarah and Wheezie, but you weren’t close with either girl. Weirdly enough though you had a strong friendship with the oldest member of the Cameron siblings, Rafe. Despite your wishes of staying home there you were standing outside of the country club wearing a short white dress that hugged your body before flaring out the bottom, and of course you were wearing a flower crown that consisted of orange and pink marigold flowers.

You stood close to your parents until it got dark out, reading a book on your kindle e-reader. You liked reading hard copies of books, but you felt bad that your parents bought you a kindle and you barely used it. Seeing that tonight you would be forced to talk to people you barely knew bringing your kindle along was a perfect tool for others to not disrupt you. However, through out the night you would still be disrupted from reading to say hi and talk to some of your fathers friends and acquaintances.

Just as you were about to find out who the father of Miranda’s baby was in the book you were reading your kindle dies.

“No no no.” You groan to yourself before putting it in your purse. Of course you forgot the charger at home. It was just great now you had to socialize.

You looked around at your surroundings for the first time that night and you had to admit it looked beautiful with all of the lights and flowers everywhere. It looked a like a scene coming straight out of your books. As you looked around and admired the scenery your eyes land on a blond server in a black tie and vest.

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you feel the butterflies in your stomach erupt in flutters. You’ve never felt that sensation before just by looking at someone.You continue to watch him walk around picking up empty cups and putting them onto the tray he was holding. You have never seen someone so beautiful in your life.

After all of the romance novels you’ve read you’d think flirting would come naturally, but you were too scared to make a move on the attractive server with a cut on his lip and temple. So continuing to check him out until he catches you was your plan on how to shoot your shot.

JJ collects some more empty glasses and is approached by some party goers asking for refills as he does so. However, as he walks around he feels someone’s eyes on him. He places the tray down on a near by table and looks around, his eyes almost instantly meet yours.

Your eyes widen once you realize you’ve been caught, your cheeks heating up once again. You quickly look away, your hand flying down to play with the hem of your dress.

JJ smirks, but is taken aback at the feeling in his stomach when he locked eyes with you. His heart started to beat faster and his stomach fluttered. All he could think about was how beautiful you were and why he hasn’t seen you before.

The Maybank boy picks up the tray, walking back to the bar to discard the dirty glasses, having no intent on getting the Kooks their orders. As he walked away he turned around to glance at you again. JJ smirks to himself again, turning back around when he catches you for the second time that night staring at him. 

You internally scold yourself for looking back at him again right after being caught. Being caught once was embarrassing, but being caught twice was even worse. 

After dropping off the dirty glasses JJ makes it his mission to talk to you and maybe make a move. Clearly you were interested, but you were too shy to make a move. Which is completely fine JJ’s personality would compensate for your shyness.

JJ walks back outside and your eyes instantly lock with his once again. You blush and look away, pretending you weren’t waiting for the cute boy to come back outside. You glance over your shoulder to see if he was still looking at you and he was, but he was also walking in your direction. Oh god he was walking over to you.

“How are you folks tonight? Can I get you guys any drinks?” JJ asks you and your parents once he reaches the tall table you were standing around. His blue eyes scanned over the faces of your family members and their friends before locking eyes with you, his smile becoming brighter, causing your heart to race faster.

“I’ll have a gin and tonic.” Your mom says before turning back to your younger brother that was pestering her for the ipad.

Your dad thinks for a second before ordering a manhattan. You ignore what everyone else orders as you continue to admire the beautiful blond in front of you. Your heart was beating a mile a minute just because of how close in proximity he was to you.

JJ turns his attention to you after writing down everyone’s orders, “And what can I get for you Marigold?” He asks, referencing to the flowers in your hair.

You blush at the sweet nickname and look down at your feet. JJ could’ve sworn everything stopped in that moment and it was just you and him.

“I uh I’ll just have a virgin shirley temple.”

JJ snaps out of his trance of admiring your features and writes down your order. “You know I can get you a normal one. I won’t ask for your ID.” He whispers, stepping closer to you.

You giggle at JJ’s suggestion as he is engulfed by the smell of your perfume and the sound of your laugh. He couldn’t believe how good you smelt and how cute your laugh was.

“No I’m okay thank you though.” You say looking over at your parents and brother to see that they were in a deep conversation with their friends, before looking back to JJ.

“Well Marigold I’ll be right back with your virgin shirley temple.” JJ says winking at you before turning to walk to the bar inside. You watch him walk inside with your cheeks hot and most likely red.

In the meantime of waiting for the cute server to be back with the drinks you look around the country club once again. Your eyes meet familiar ones and you smile when you see Rafe. His eyes soften when they meet yours, but you couldn’t help but notice how tense he looked and how he was clutching the glass in his hand so hard his knuckles turned white.

Despite the loud music the sound of the door of the country club grabs your attention. The butterflies in your stomach erupt once again when you see the blond server with your drinks. JJ almost instantly makes eye contact with you which makes him almost drop some of the drinks. You bite your lip, watching him approach you as you try to stifle your giggles at how cute he was.

JJ makes it to you without dropping any drinks which was an accomplishment considering the prettiest girl he has ever seen was watching him. You watch as JJ hands the drinks to your parents before turning to look at you.

He takes the glass off the tray and puts a napkin under it, “And for you Marigold.” He says putting the tray underneath his arm.

“Thank you.” You say, blushing once again at the nickname.

“Look at the napkin.”

You do as JJ says, placing your drink on the tall table you were standing beside. On the white napkin, written in messy, but legible ink was a phone number.

You look up at the boy in front of you, your cheeks feeling as if they were on fire. You were shocked that he was interested in you too.

“Call me sometime.” He says winking.

Just as you were about to stutter out a sentence two hands were placed on JJ’s chest, pushing him back a bit. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you see that the hands belong to Rafe.

“She won’t be doing that anytime soon.” Rafe says, Topper, Kelce and a few other Kooks standing behind him.

JJ’s eyes widen a bit, not in fear, but in realization that he has been caught. And of course caught by the Kook prince himself, Rafe Cameron.

“Aweh Rafe. Are you still upset that I turned you down? It’s not going to happen man let it go.” JJ jokes, stepping a few steps away causing you to laugh. 

JJ smirks at you, realizing you were laughing which only makes Rafe even more mad. Rafe basically growls at the boy who just gave you his number, before him and his friends start to chase him.

“Ah shit!” JJ yells, dropping the drink tray and running into the country club.

“Rafe stop!” You yell following after the group of boys into the fancy building. People pointed and starred at the scene that was happening causing you to become uncomfortable for being in the spotlight.

You jog down the hall in your flats and groan when you realize the group of teen boys ran into the men’s washroom. You were about to turn around in defeat until you heard Rafe talking, with venom laced in his voice.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for a while JJ Maybank!” He yells, a groan is heard following after. Your brain didn’t have enough time to comprehend what the attractive servers name was before you found yourself in the men’s washroom.

Your blood boils when you see Kelce holding JJ in a choke hold as Rafe got ready to injure the boy again.

“Rafe stop!”

All eyes in the room turn to you, even JJ’s as Kelce turned around to see what you were doing, making you falter at the attention.

You look at JJ’s eyes that looked relieved once seeing you, before looking at Rafe. His eyes soften looking at you and your upset face. The oldest Cameron sibling has always had a thing for you.

“Y/N you shouldn’t be in here.” Rafe says softly. 

Despite being in a choke hold JJ couldn’t stop the feeling of the butterflies in his stomach erupting when he finally learns your name. It was beautiful just like you, but seeing how flustered you got when he called you Marigold boosted his already large ego.

“Rafe you know I don’t like confrontations so please just leave him alone.” 

Topper scoffs, “And he’s supposed to care? This dirty Pogue deserves everything coming his way. Including his dads fists.” 

Your mouth falls open at what Topper says which makes the rest of the Kooks in the room laugh. You look between JJ who was clearly embarrassed and ashamed, then back to Rafe and Topper. This poor boy was being abused by his dad making your heart break for him.

Deciding not to fuel the fire like Topper wanted you to, you try to reason with Rafe again while Kelce struggles to hold JJ in his grasp. 

“Rafe leave him alone. Please.” You say, your eyes pleading with the brunette. You despised confrontation and being center of attention in the situation you currently were in made you anxious, causing your breathing to become labored. 

Rafe bites his lip, deciding what to do. “Kelce stop.” He says. Ultimately because of how visibly upset you were.

Both you and JJ let out a sigh of relief when Kelce obeys Rafe’s orders and pushes him out of his arms causing JJ to stumble over to you. You grab JJ’s arm steadying him while looking at him concerned. Both of your hearts begin to race even faster at the small contact, but JJ makes a bold move and intertwines your hands. While your heart skipped a beat at this, Rafe was seeing red. He wanted to beat JJ to a pulp more than ever.

You send Rafe a pissed off look at his antics of being a bully. You two have had many conversations about him being rude to others and how he needs to stop, but clearly everything you said to him in the past went in one ear and out the other. Just as you were about to walk out of the washroom with JJ the lights flicker.

“Gentlemen.” A security guard says walking into the room. “And lady?” He says once his eyes land on you. 

“Is there a problem in here guys?” 

JJ lets go of your hand and turns to the guard, knowing he was about to get kicked out. You instantly miss the feeling of his calloused hand against your soft one. It was comforting.

“Pardon me, officer. No there is not an issue.” JJ says moving his hair out of his face while looking around the room full of Kooks. “Actually yes there is an issue. We got a criminal trespass in progress here. Beep! Call it in right?” He says, but you bite your lip at how cute he looked trying to find an excuse. Clearly no one was trespassing though. Everyone in the washroom belonged to the club and JJ worked there. It was just Rafe being Rafe and taking his anger out on any Pogue he could find.

“Blatant disrespect for private property. I’m in violation of all kinds of shit sir, but these young gentlemen caught me and were about to escort me away.” The Maybank boy says turning to Kelce and adjusting his tie. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, what did he mean he was in violation? 

The security guard grabs JJ’s arm and yours since you didn’t belong there either and starts to escort you away. 

“Hey safe travels back to the cut! Hopefully next time you have the balls to hit your dad back.” Rafe says causing JJ to jerk away from the guards grip and turn to attack Rafe. However, the guard and other Kooks stop him in time before he could get a hit in. Rafe’s comment only made you more mad at him.

As you and JJ are escorted back outside you were still confused and dumbfounded. You understood why you were being escorted back outside, but why was JJ being kicked out? Was it just because of his social status? 

Once you three were outside the guard removes his strong grip from your arm, but continues to guide JJ away. 

“Hey I can walk myself man.” JJ says as the guard starts to get more and more aggressive with him. By now a bunch of people were watching and were starting to whisper amongst each other. 

As the two walk down the steps of the club you watch JJ grab a drink off of a random table before downing it. His actions only made the guests gossip even more, including your parents, but all you could do was swoon at the boy. Even though you two just met and were basically polar opposites you wanted to get to know him. You wanted to step in and say that you invited him, but the words wouldn’t come out of your mouth. You were afraid of everyone looking at you and being the spectacle of Midsummer. 

Luckily for you though another person steps in. “Let go of him!” A girl you believe to be named Kiara says. 

“You can’t just boot him!” She yells as more people look over at the display that was unfolding. Standing from afar you secretly admire the girls guts for standing up for him, especially in front of so many people. 

You hated being shy and wanted to be as outspoken as her. Every time you thought you were breaking out of your shell you would retreat back inside, becoming too uncomfortable and drained by socializing with so many people all the while putting on an act that you were outgoing. However, tonight was one of those nights where you decided to be your shy and quiet self and yet JJ was still attracted to you. 

“Excuse me ma’am?” The security guard asks. 

“I invited him here. I’m a member of this club.” She says as her parents try to stop her from making a fool of herself. 

You step closer to the railing where Kiara stood and you instantly make eye contact with JJ who was still being held by security. His heart skips a beat and a rush of adrenaline flows through JJ’s veins after making eye contact with you. In an attempt to impress you and to make you laugh JJ turns towards the guard and pushes him into a table, causing the crowd watching to gasp.

As glass shatters on the ground JJ turns and points at Kiara. “Mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, Kie.” He says turning back around to leave before he could get caught by security once again. 

“And that goes for you too Pope.” He says to the boy wearing an apron. 

You and the rest of the crowd of people watch as Kiara’s and Pope’s parents try to stop their kids from running off with the delinquent that just caused a scene at the most anticipated night of the year. However, the two teenagers run after their blond friend who was saluting another boy their age. 

You slowly walk down the porch steps in a trance. You wanted to live like them. To live freely without caring about what others think about you. To be comfortable with speaking to a group of people instead of just a few at a time. Not only did JJ’s looks draw you in, but his ability to live carelessly as well was a factor. 

As the four teenagers reunite they start to run off towards the beach. You continue to watch as they run away, but your heart skips a beat once again when JJ turns around and looks at you. 

“Call me!” He yells while putting a pretend phone up to his ear with his hand before turning back around and running off with his friends.  

[angelguk]

you guys remember that video of jaykay walking around with his chain swinging from his neck... yeah anon said that video but make it jock!jk. oc is horny and who can blame her. we’re in university now folks. jk being a good friend. not edited (but tbh when is my work ever edited). 1k. listen to art class by beabadoobee.

You cannot recall a single word that has left Jeongguk’s lips in the past five minutes. You should be concentrating though — he’d been kind enough to explain thermodynamics to you. Somehow, despite your widely different majors, you’d both been thrown into the hell that was Professor Kim’s chemistry class. The only difference between the two of you right now was that Jeongguk understood what Gibson's Free Energy meant while you, unfortunately, did not.

“See,” he says, honey gaze locking on you. “It’s not that difficult.”

The huff you release is laced with fury. “Easy for you to say. You understand his horrendous teaching method.”

“Kim isn’t that horrible of a teacher,” Jeongguk returns. You don’t blink as he runs a stray hand through his chestnut curls. He’s overdue for a cut but after your persistent badgering, he’d agreed to grow it out again. The problem was that he looked good with his hair tumbling into his face. He always looked good, to be frank, but the consistent sweeping of his hair back was doing something funny to your stomach. Not that you were willing to acknowledge that.

There’s a fast and dangerous swoop in your gut the second Jeongguk leans into your space, crowding over your huddled figure. “Look,” he says, deft tongue swiping over his petal lips. His finger traces an equation from your textbook but you’re not looking at that. You really couldn’t give a shit about chemistry right now. All because Jeongguk’s chain is dangling before your eyes. It’s a pretty silver pendant, glinting in the harsh fluorescents hanging above, and engraved with something you can’t decipher as it gently sways before your vision. His cologne hits a second later, swathing around you like a warm lazy hug. You nearly give in, eyes fluttering shut as your thighs squeeze together beneath the library table. He’s so close, just one inch forward and your face would be buried in the hollow of his neck. A neck bulked up by years of consistent gym routines and playing match after match of lacrosse. You can’t help the wandering gaze. Even underneath the billowy material of his sweatshirt, you can see how broad he is, wide shoulders and thick biceps encroaching into your space.

It happens too fast for you to muffle the fantasy out. How nice he would feel on top of you, his chain cold against your warm skin as your bodies met, delicate metal swaying gently to the sound of him inside of you, his wide palms pinning you down tight until you felt the phantom of them there tomorrow, the —

“Hello? Y/N? Did you get it?” Jeongguk’s voice is alien, slicing through the core of your longing unforgivingly. 

“What?” And just like that it’s gone, evaporated into nothing as your vision clears, Jeongguk staring at you expectedly as the faint ticking of the library clock reaches your ears. “Huh? Wait — yes I got it. Um, yeah it makes sense now.”

There’s a pause as he stares at you, brown eyes brimming with that tender doe-eyed gaze of his. The one that has seen through every charade you’ve ever attempted to trick him with. He must know.

“You sure?” He says as he cocks his head. Something violently blooms and dies inside of you simultaneously. He knows. He knows and you don’t know how that makes you feel. He must have seen the distance in your eyes, saw how you looked at him. You’d never been good at hiding things, especially from Jeongguk. But your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth, brain incapable of forming a believable lie. What could you say to your best friend when you’d been fantasising about him right in front of him? What is there to say? Sorry for thinking you’re really hot? Sorry for wanting you as more than a friend? 

It’s stupid and you know it yet your mouth is falling open involuntarily. But he catches you, his words blocking yours diverting the path of your relationship from a dangerous ending. 

“I know you’re used to teaching me stuff,” he softly starts, tone cautious. “I get that. But it’s okay not to understand things, Y/N. You don’t have to know everything. I can help you out whenever you don’t, you know that right?” 

If you could scream in the middle of a library you would. But that would get you kicked out and honestly, you need to study. But here he was, thinking your hesitation and lack of focus was from embarrassment. If anyone had a golden soul it was him. And that’s what makes it a million times worse. Because Jeongguk was everything you could never be. Everything and more.

You bite your tongue, head bowed in a shame that he misreads.

“Y/N?”

It takes a minute for the thought to form, a lapse of time in which you think your heart shatters a little bit. “Jeongguk,” you murmur, eyes rising to meet his. “I’d never doubt that you wouldn’t be there to help me. We’ve been friends for too long for me to ever think that. I’m just really frustrated with myself. But I’ve got the concept now. Thank you for explaining it. I appreciate this.”

The smile he gives you could make a cloudy sky clear. “You really sure? I know it’s rushed but I gotta head to a society meeting in, like, ten minutes.”

You nod, clicking your pen because for some reason this hurts. “Yeah, yeah I got it. You should go. Thanks, Gukkie.”

He shrugs, plucking his backpack off the table. Another sweep of his fingers through his hair, a bright smile still gracing his perfect lips. There’s the hint of his dimples peeking through his cheeks. You wish he didn’t look like that. 

“Anytime, bunny. You know I got you.”

And then he’s off, waving you farewell as he weaves through the shelves and out the library doors. You don’t miss the murmurs that follow, the silent whispers of his name. Jeon Jeongguk. The university's star lacrosse player. The president of the Student Sports Committee. The hottest guy on campus. And somehow, the best-friend you might have a crush on.

It’s with a heavy sigh that you return to your assignment, the grip on your pen taunt. Maybe you should look into ordering that vibrator Sieun talked about earlier today. Maybe. 

[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning Into Stone

A/N  Another long drive, another Outlander fanfic idea that dropped into my brain out of nowhere, shoving aside the historical AU I have been wrestling with for months.  Here’s the pitch: Claire Beauchamp is a psychiatrist specializing in grief counselling.  Jamie Fraser is referred to her by his sister, who is worried for his well-being after a series of family tragedies.  You can probably guess the rest, but I’m going to write it anyway.   The title is taken from a song by the amazing Phantogram that was playing as the story idea came to me.

After losing my WIP virginity posting Ginger Snap, I’m going out on that limb again and posting this first chapter with only a rough outline mapped out in my head.  You people are a terrible influence!  Also, there will be some trigger warnings on future chapters, so please watch out for those.   And now, on with our show.

Claire Beauchamp glanced down at the leather-bound calendar open on her desk.  The ivory page for Thursday was packed to the margins, each hourly block filled with the name of a patient followed by a series of cuneiform symbols she used to remind herself of the last session, course of treatment, overall progress, all while maintaining strict confidentiality.  Not even Geillis Duncan, her office administrator and very good friend, knew how to decode the script.

Geillis liked to laugh at the old-fashioned day planner, reminding Claire that their practice utilized software that could perform the same function electronically, but she enjoyed the act of physically logging each session.  The solid heft of her Mont Blanc pen in her hand, a medical school graduation gift from her Uncle Lamb.  The scratch and grab of the nub as it bled black ink over virgin paper.  It was a tactile ceremony in a detached world.  Geillis would nod and then tell her she needed to get laid.

Speak of the devil, a sharp rap on her office door was followed by the appearance of her strawberry blonde head. blue eyes alight with mischief.

“Yer two o’clock is here.  Did ye need more time tae finish bolting down tha’ chaff ye call a salad, or can I show him in?”

“It’s kale,” she defended.  “It’s full of anti-oxidants.”

A disdainful scoff was the only response.

“Yes, Geil, please show Mister...” she glanced down at her planner, “...Fraser in, thank you.”

The tiny rectangle contained only a name, which meant this was their first appointment.  Geillis vetted all prospective patients, but Claire preferred to go into the first meeting blind, with no assumptions or pre-conceptions.  

She wondered what misfortune had caused Mr. Fraser to seek out her psychiatric services.  The death of a child, perhaps, or the end of an extra-marital affair.  People grieved for very different reasons and worked through or around that grief with a surprising variety of coping mechanisms.   Most called upon her practice in much the same way they would a breakdown truck when their car’s engine failed.  They simply wanted to get back on the road to happiness.

Despite the degrees and accreditations that decorated her office wall, Claire wasn’t certain such a thing was possible.  In her experience, grief was a phantom limb that never really went away.  The best one could hope for was to learn healthier ways of living with it.  

The sound of Geillis clearing her throat snapped her back to the present.

“Was there something else, Geil?”

“Och, no’ really.  Just, when yer considerin’ how tae thank me later on, remember tha’ my favourite stone is an emerald, that I prefer gold tae silver, but platinum is ne’er amiss.”

“What are you on about, Duncan?”  But her friend had already disappeared back into the reception area, leaving behind only the glow of her Cheshire smile.  Claire was shaking her head, bemused, when another knock rang out, this one considerably heavier than the first.

“Come in,” she called as she looked up.  And up.  And up some more.

The man who now practically filled her office door had to be at least six foot four, with powerful shoulders and a broad torso encased in a blue henley.  His nearly endless legs were likewise muscular, as testified by the stretch of his jeans across each thigh.  As if his physique wasn’t remarkable enough, he had a head of outrageously wavy red hair, worn long enough to graze the tops of his ears and the nape of his neck, but swept back from a high brow by a judicious use of product.  His face was angular in a pleasingly unique way, with a day or two’s growth of beard counter-balancing an almost youthful, earnest appearance.  But his most striking feature by far were his aquamarine eyes that shimmered like a tropical sea.  Eyes that were currently observing her with perplexity.

“Dr. Beauchamp?” a deep Scottish brogue inquired.  He pronounced it as though she were French.

“Yes,” she startled.  “That’s me.  And it’s pronounced Beecham.  Please, come in Mister Fraser.”  She shuffled a few items around her desk needlessly as she tried to compose herself.  Damn Geillis for not giving her a bit more warning that her newest client was some sort of fitness model.

“Thank ye,” he replied.  “An’ it’s pronounced Jamie, if ye please.”   She added wit to the growing list of the man’s attributes.

If anything, he grew even more impressive as he approached.  She could see he was nervous, although hiding it well.  His striking eyes darted about the room, trying to get a sense of his environment.  She indicated the well-upholstered armchair that sat to one side of her desk.

“Have a seat,” she invited.

With a surprising amount of grace for one so tall, he eased into the chair but didn’t lean back.  The fingers of his left hand tapped restlessly against his thigh.  She watched him quietly, waiting for him to speak.  This was a trick she had learned when she first started practicing psychiatry, but in this case it also allowed her to continue her appraisal.  He was, she concluded, the most attractive man she’d ever seen in the flesh.

“No couch,” he finally observed.

“No.  That’s a bit of a Hollywood trope, I’m afraid.  Lying prone in front of a stranger is hardly conducive to feeling at ease.”

He nodded his acceptance of her logic, but was otherwise silent.

“So,” she spoke at last, unable to wait him out, “what caused you to seek out counselling, Jamie?”  His name suited him, she thought as she spoke it for the first time.  Both boyish and imposing at once.

“I didna.  Twas my sister, Jenny, who insisted I see a doctor.”  His mobile mouth twisted into a grimace.  She could imagine the sibling discord that such a demand would have caused.  Whoever this Jenny was, she was made of strong stuff.  Unfortunately for her, a hostile patient would receive no benefit from merely visiting her office.  Counselling was a participatory process, and she could tell from the stubborn set of Jamie’s shoulders that he had no intention of participating.

“I see,” she said carefully.  “Well, it’s your time and your dime, Mr. Fraser.  This session lasts for forty-five minutes, and you’ve not been here for five.  There’s a carafe of hot water on the table over there, if you care for some tea.  Or you’re welcome to just enjoy that comfortable chair for another forty minutes.  I’ll be working on some administrative necessities.”

She turned her chair away from him, but from the corner of her eye she could see his gobsmacked expression.  He had clearly expected her to cajole and manipulate him into co-operating, but that simply wasn’t her style.

“I meant no offence, doctor.  I’m certain ye’re verra good at what ye do.  Tis only... well, Jenny is my older sister, ye ken.  She practically raised me.  And so ofttimes she treats me like a muckle-sized bairn, and no’ a man who’s capable of lookin’ after himself.”

As he spoke, Jamie leaned forward until his elbows rested on his knees, expressive hands gesturing in front of his face.  Hostile to the notion of counselling he might be, but he clearly wanted her to understand it wasn’t a slight.  As a physician, she had been trained to never take a patient’s reactions personally, but it didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate the effort.

“No offence taken, Jamie.  If you don’t need my assistance, I’m happy for you.  That’s one less person hurting in the world.”

“I didna say I wasna hurting.  But I can handle it my own way.  I am handling it, that is,” he hurried to add.

Unable to sit still any longer, he rose and walked over to the small table where she kept an assortment of herbal teas and a tray of Geillis’ homemade biscuits.  Bending over, Jamie set about making himself some; chamomile by the smell of it.  The sound of spoon ringing off porcelain as he stirred in some honey made her smile, reminding her of Lamb and his obsession with the lost art of afternoon tea.

“Can I make ye a cup?”

The question was so unexpected, it took her a moment to process it.  The tea was there as a distraction for her patients, to give them something to do with their bodies as they worked through difficult emotions.  None of them had ever thought to offer her a reprieve as well.

“No, thank you.  I just finished lunch.”

He dipped a shortbread into the steaming tea, then ate it in a single bite.  Instead of sitting back down, he began to browse the framed certificates and photographs along the far wall as he sipped his tea.  With his back turned, her eyes dipped to admire his ass, which filled out his jeans perfectly.  When she caught herself, she gave her head a shake, appalled at her lack of professional detachment.  Maybe Geillis was right.  Maybe she really did need to get laid.

“How long have ye been a doctor?” Jamie asked without turning around.

“Ten years,” she replied.  “But I’ve only been a psychiatrist for the last two.”

It was a dangerous topic, and she blamed his ass for letting the words slip out.  Fortunately, his inquisitiveness took him in an entirely different direction.

“Were ye some kind of prodigy, then? Ye hardly seem old enough tae have yer own practice, let alone fer a decade.  If ye dinna mind me sayin’ so,” he added quickly, as though realizing what he’d just said.

“Not at all.  And you hardly seem young enough to be a, what was it? A muckle-sized bairn?”

As he turned to look her way, she understood the expression ‘shot-gun smile’ for the first time.  It spread across his face like a sunbeam, transforming what was already remarkable into a work of art.  If she hadn’t been sitting, she likely would have stumbled backward from the force of the blow.  Scrambling for something familiar to keep her from making a very grave fool of herself in front of this man, she clasped her clinical training with both hands.

“Are you and your sister close?” 

“Aye, when we’re no’ tryin’ not tae kill the other.  Our Mam died when I was only four, and with Da workin’ dawn til dark on the farm, Jenny was parent, teacher an’ playmate all rolled inta one.”

“You’re not from Edinburgh, then?”  Although what that had to do with his counselling, she hadn’t a clue. 

“Nah, I hail from a wee village in the Highlands ye’ve likely ne’er heard of called Broch Mordha.”  She shook her head to indicate she was indeed unfamiliar with it.  Jamie launched into a detailed description of the place, his hands sculpting the landscape out of thin air.  He obviously cared very deeply for his home, and she felt a twinge of jealousy, having never known that feeling of deep belonging  herself.

“And what brought you to Old Smoky?” she asked as he wound down, her interest piqued.  It was like slamming a lead door on his previously sunny disposition.

“Family obligations.” Said in such a way as to make it clear that no further words would be forthcoming on the topic.  She regretted her nosiness immediately, despite what it revealed about his emotional state.  Jamie was most certainly grieving something, but handling it he was not.

Before she could find a way back to the easy flow of conversation, a chime from her laptop indicated that the session was up.  She couldn’t bear to dismiss him without trying to set things right.

“Listen, Jamie, I understand that you only came here today to humour your sister, but I want you to consider something.  Whether we’re grieving or angry or jealous, or any destabilizing feeling, we’re often the worst surveyors of our own landscape.  Just like you can’t know your place on the sea without referencing the stars, it takes something external to ourselves to measure how far adrift we have become.  Your sister obviously loves you.  Ask yourself, what has she seen in you that prompted her to force you to seek help?”

They parted with cordial but muted goodbyes.  The door closed behind him, leaving Claire to stare at the blank rectangle in her planner that bore his name.  No coded symbols flowed from her pen.  When the door re-opened, it was Geillis, closing it firmly behind her.

“Weel, did I no’ tell ye?  Wee fox, tha’ one.  And he told me he liked my shortbread!”   Geillis said this as though it was some kind of sexual euphemism, which for all Claire knew, it was.

“Yes,” she replied distractedly.  “He’s very nice.”

“Nice!  Nice?  Tha’ man is tae nice what Wagyu is tae beef jerky.  Have ye completely lost yer senses, woman?”  

“Yes, well, he’s a patient, Geillis, as you well know.  And not one I’m likely to see again,” she added, acknowledging out loud what she already knew.

“Oh, no?” Geillis sing-songed.  “Thas’ strange, as he just made an appointment fer the same time next week.”

Claire’s eyes flew to where her friend looked on, smug as could be.

“Yer three o’clock called tae say she was runnin’ five minutes late.  I’ll leave ye tae think about yer... patient.”

Claire picked up her pen, trying to pull together something resembling a professional summary of her first appointment with Jamie.  Her mind replayed their interaction, but all she could remember was the way his eyes crinkled when he was listening attentively, the tidy half-moons of his fingernails, the seam of his jeans as it contoured his thigh, and the cymbal-crash in her chest that accompanied his smile.

Patient, she reminded herself.  Jamie Fraser is your patient. 

[m-is-for-mungo]

I received my latest commission from @drovenna, and it was a concept I’ve tried to attempt myself many times to no success. But now! It’s here! And it’s 1000 times better than anything I could have ever fully imagined 🥺🥺

Lily and Charon, captured as they were in 2074 and post war 2289.

In the 2060’s, the US government paired with an excommunicated Soviet guard group (this is all mine so who knows what actually happened in universe). The government’s plan was to send battalions through this super secret underground training and cybernetic augmentation to create the ultimate super soldiers. Someone who was an expert in espionage and could fight like 5 men.

The battalions slowly whittled down as people became emotionally broken, mentally destroyed, or had issues with authority that couldn’t be reprogrammed through various means.

Lily joined the battalion as her husband had died and left her nothing. She had no other options for life and she signed up for the program. (Of course the government lied about what the program was exactly)

Charon was a 19 year old street punk who had been jumping from jails and youth homes for years, and finally fucked up bad enough that he was going to be sentenced and sent away. (He was actually innocent, but wrong place wrong time.) He was given a choice. Jail or sign up for the program for “reformation”.

A year into the program, Lily and Charon were the only remaining participants. They were barely holding on, and found friendship and a brotherhood among the other, and many nights were spent holding the other as they were breaking down.

The Russians had broken away from the original blueprint of the program, and both Charon and Lily were having fits of disassociation and would be prone to fits of speaking in Russian, major lashes of anger and violence, I’m talking unadulterated rage. They usually would have no memory of the fits. This was due to the Russian’s playing subliminal messaging through the compound’s intercom system (much like VaultTec had done in one of the vaults). They were no longer just extremely skilled spies, they had also been programmed as Russian sleepers.

Two years into the program, they were both put into surgery for their cybernetics. They had internal comms devices inserted (much like MGS’s Codec), technology similar to VATS implanted into their brains.

They also had spinal cord augmentation. They have what are essentially needles fused into their spine, causing an increased release of cortisol and adrenaline during training, and eventually would be used to remotely control them. By triggering the device at the base of their skull, the increased cortisol would makes them irritable and stressed, and would give a higher incentive to follow direct orders (the device would wean back the hormones), and cause extreme discomfort should Lily or Charon be seen as disobeying or hesitating.

These devices were never removed. They spend a few more years training with the devices, getting used to their effects (but they were also under heavy surveillance to monitor any resistance to the implants, and how long it took to guide them back to tasks at hand). Lily and Charon were recruited in 2070. By 2074, they were nearly completely controlled by these implants. They still had one last procedure to endure.

Sterilization.

Can’t possibly put all of this work into the perfect super soldier and then risk losing them to domestic civilian life. Charon’s was obviously much simpler than Lily’s, and he signed his contract while she was still recovering.

I headcannon that Charon is actually the soldier you play as in the Operation: Anchorage DLC for Fallout 3.

Lily and Charon are reunited once again, in 2289. Lily and MacCready take a caravan to the Capital Wasteland to bring Duncan home, and Lily asks the locals where a nice quiet bar is, and is directed towards the Underworld. (This is counting on the LW not gaining Charon as a companion, and seeing as I don’t have a LW OC, it’s a reality.

[enbylesbianism]

ANY WAY THE WIND BLOWS: Simon Snow trilogy wrapped! (review)

Hi, there! It took me a while to finish this post, as I could talk about it for... a long time (not necessarily a good thing), but I got it! I like praise, so if anyone wants to tell me I did a good job... Also, I might edit this post later on. I don’t remember anything else I’d like to add, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I did after posting. My brain does not obey me. Anyways, off to it! By the way, I won’t give this book a real rating.

While this is a review on Any Way the Wind Blows, I intend on analysing some points of the overall series too. The book starts where Wayward Son left off, the end of the road trip, Simon and Baz having problems in their relationship, Penelope helping Shepard with his curse... and the whole situation of the NowNext vampires. Rainbow Rowell only seems to remember the first part. That leaves us with the second book of the series ignored almost completely, with the exception of Simon and Baz’s feelings as well as Shepard’s existence.

Don’t get me wrong, aspects of the book are mentioned, but never in a truly important way. Lamb, the Vampire King, is mentioned by Simon, but only focusing on his and Baz’s relationship, never about the fact that there are a bunch of vampires (supposedly ‘evil’) in the U.S. but I guess what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right? I could count on one hand the times the NowNext vampires were mentioned (like, literally, this isn’t an exaggeration, I looked up ‘NowNext’ on the e-book and only got five results), all of them either being one of them considering telling someone else about it, then not following through with it, or dismissing it as a concern for Lamb. Which makes the plot of Wayward Son completely useless for the trilogy. Now, that wouldn’t matter as much if everything else had been properly developed, but we definitely can’t say that.

We are introduced to a brand new, poorly developed villain, Smith-Smith Richards, whose character arc is as ridiculous as his name. He’s one of the fake Chosen Ones that started appearing after the events of Carry On (and the only one to be mentioned and/or defeated, for that matter). It becomes clear that presenting as Simon Snow-ish is part of his brand, especially when Baz describes him as looking like the Netflix adaptation version of Simon, and that he was raised and guided by his uncle, who’s just... there. I don’t think it would’ve been hard to make him manipulating Smith-Smith into believing he’s the prophetic savior of the Magickal World, which would not only make both of their characters more interesting, but it could also serve as a parallel of Simon’s relationship with the Mage. Richards also has some special powers such as increasing a mage’s magic for a limited amount of time, but taking it away afterwards, as well as making someone immune from spells. It’s worth saying those aren’t skills that are usual in the Magickal World, or else there wouldn’t be so much confusion and shock from people (specially Baz and Penny, who would definitely have heard of something like this before), but we get no explanation on why or how Richard has them.

Then, we have the Salisbury’s. We, as readers, already know Lucy and Davy are Simon’s parents, making Ruth his grandmother. It’s noticeable that Rowell builds up to that discovery, by making Simon get along with Ruth instantly, him thinking about Lucy a lot etc. It makes us excited to read the part where they actually figure it out, to know how Simon would deal with that, him dealing with the fact that he’s the Mage’s son and the fact that, technically, he killed his father. I suppose that’s the point, but actually getting to that part was incredibly underwhelming. The way they discovered about Simon—being able to lift a family sword—hadn’t been mentioned or hinted at before. One would’ve expected Simon, who’s particularly interested in swords as it’s mentioned many times throughout the series, to notice a freaking Excalibur at the Salisbury’s place before. 

And speaking of noticing things: when it’s finally revealed that Simon is Lucy’s son and the Mage’s heir, Baz pointed out the uncanny similarities between his boyfriend and the deceased Watford principal. “Those narrow eyes. That tilt of his head. I thought... I thought he’d learned it. Was imitating it.” + “Merlin, Simon, you even look like him.”  (Any Way the Wind Blows, chapter 86) Simon was the Mage’s protégé for years and I assume the Magickal authorities knew that he was the one to inherit all of his money and personal belongings, but no one, in the whole British Magickal community, thought about them being related? I refuse to believe there were no conspiracy theorist teachers at Watford or that Mitali or even the Pitch’s alongside everyone who was against the Mage didn’t at least check to know if there was something behind those characteristics. Baz literally said (chapter 88), “I think it’s undeniable. I’d cast ‘Flesh and blood’ on them, but it would bounce right off of Snow (...)”, so there is a spell for that. Plus, we didn’t even have one whole chapter of Simon dealing with this information! The chapters (no more than five, out of ninety-one) were divided between Simon, Baz and Lady Ruth’s POVs. He’s the main character, so one would think he’d get more development.

Another point that felt rushed was the romance. While Simon and Baz’s relationship wasn’t, as it’s been a topic Rowell has explored for three books (we’re not counting Fangirl here, as their ‘participation’ on it was minor and their personalities weren’t as consistent as in the trilogy. Not that it is that consistent there), the others just felt like she wanted everyone to finish the trilogy with a pair. I’ll start with Shepard and Penny. There were fans who liked them together before Any Way the Wind Blows, but it wasn’t hinted at—it was more like a fandom thing. I personally like them as a couple, but it could have had development and, maybe, foreshadowing in Wayward Son. I mean, they did fight monsters during a huge part of a road trip together.

The next one I’ll talk about is Agatha and Niamh. I love them, don’t get me wrong. Actually, it’s precisely because I love them that I wish they’d gotten a better treatment. Niamh wasn’t introduced before Any Way the Wind Blows. I get why she wasn’t introduced in Carry On—it was interesting to see a character who wasn’t caught up in Simon and Baz’s drama during the school years—but a hint of her existence could’ve been left in Wayward Son. Agatha is an important character on it, and a mention of her father training an aspiring veterinary could’ve fit somewhere, as a hint, maybe. (Also, Lucy, the dog, being absolutely forgotten during this book when a lot of Agatha’s time is spent in a veterinary clinic...) Besides, we could get the vibes from them, but after they kissed, there was barely any content. We didn’t get them calling each other ‘girlfriend’ (or if they even like that label at this point), or the aftermath of the kiss, or a POV from Niamh. Or Niamh appearing the epilogue? If Agatha was taking care of the goats, I’m sure Niamh would have a part in that too. Still on Agatha’s character, but not on Niamh’s, it felt like Rainbow Rowell was setting up for aromantic and asexual Agatha, specially because of this quote: “It was like she'd pulled the feeling right out of my heart. I could have kissed her. (I still wish sometimes that I wanted to.) (That would feel like an answer to... the question of me. Then I could say, 'Oh, thats who I am. That's why I've been so confused.')” (Wayward Son, chapter 4).

And I was leaving the best (I need to be sure everyone knows I mean this sarcastically) of the romance topic for the end: Fiona and Nicodemus. It’s just... so forced and undeveloped. Not even because, to me, they’re both gay as hell. There was just... such a lack of development! I don’t think we had any interaction between the both of them before Any Way the Wind Blows. There was no foreshadowing or why would Fiona, a vampire hunter from a family of vampire hunters, would marry... a vampire! I’d already find it weird to see fanfiction of them as a crackship, but it’s canon?! Like, canon as in they’re going to get married and use Fiona and Natasha’s mother’s ring? Seriously, nothing will take from me that this is a lavender marriage (as I’ve already discussed with my best friend, which inspired this post of theirs.)

I’d also like to speak about a topic that’d been hinted throughout the series, especially post-Carry On, which is the criticism towards the Magickal Community in the U.K.. That criticism is very much embodied in Shepard’s character. It’s explicitly said that the British mages have some kind of supremacy towards other supernatural beings, such as vampires for example, gatekeeping literal magic. Up until relatively recently, mages with weak links with magic couldn’t attend Watford (and that’s a major plot point in the final book) and there’s a denial towards any other kind of magic except the ones that are part of their craft. Even within the Magickal community itself, there are more important families that are more likely to succeed, like Natasha receiving criticism for marrying Malcolm, as a Pitch. It felt pointless not to tackle the issues you’ve set up yourself in your own universe. Penelope has very strict morals related to magickal law and beliefs, something that she could’ve deconstructed, especially considering Shepard, her love interest, symbolises that. Another point related to that is, the trilogy is very clearly heavily inspired by Harry Potter, where many of those points are very clear (e.g. wizard supremacy in relation to other species, such as werewolves and domestic elves and the status quo that makes some traditionally magical families more influential than others, like the Malfoy’s vs. the Weasley’s), so it’s not an easily forgettable concept.

The series also had a lot of inconsistencies. The one I’ve seen talked about more often is Simon and Agatha’s... intimacy status, let’s call it that. Simon’s whole thing in the first book was that he struggled controlling his magic when experiencing intense emotions, which makes it hard to believe that he managed to have sex withount an... accident. Besides that, though, there’s this quote, “She (...) presses a kiss into my temple. No one has ever kissed me there. No one has ever kissed me anywhere but on my mouth” (Carry On, Chapter 27), but in Any Way the Wind Blows, when Simon’s about to have his wings cut, Agatha says, “It’s a strange feeling to look at someone’s chest and know it’s nothing to do with you anymore, but still to remember kissing every inch.” (Chapter 14)

So, we have established that Rainbow Rowell’s work, both character and plot driven, is flawed. “But we got the characters interacting for the closure of the series, at least!” Well... we got interactions between the canon romantic relationships, yeah. But besides that, we didn’t get much. There were no interactions between Agatha and Penny, or Shepard with Simon and Baz. Or Penny and her mother figuring stuff out. Or literally anyone with a therapist. And not gonna lie, the interaction we got between Baz and Dev was underwhelming, to say the least. Niall is nowhere to be seen, too.

Rainbow Rowell’s writing is beautiful: she writes poetic lines that make the book seem perfect at first glance, if you don’t think about it for too long. Her words are very shiny, but once you get use to that light and see what’s behind them, what’s between one shiny quote and another, it has so many flaws and plot holes that it reads like a first draft. There are many concepts in there that are genuinely good: the rest of the trilogy focused on the protagonist dealing with the trauma of being a child soldier instead of being entirely an adventure, Simon being unlabelled, a fake Chosen One that gives mages fake hope... Those are all good ideas, but so poorly explored that, despite being an entire book/trilogy, it still feels like a writing pitch or something among those lines.

I felt iffy about other things during my reading of the series, but they aren’t exactly plot points, so I’ll just list them below:

Mitali, Penny’s mom, including ‘discovering your bisexuality’ as a mid-life crisis thing 

As I’ve seen people talking about biphobia/bi erasure in the books, I’ll be including this post that features both unlabelled and bisexual individuals talking about the topic (it isn’t my place, as a lesbian, to talk about this, that’s why I decided not to do so.)

Romanticising of Baz’s suicide (a.k.a. chapter 61) in the first book. If you’re not in a good place mentally, like I was when I first read Carry On, I hope you know that a kiss or romance doesn’t help any mental illness you or others might have. Don’t let anyone use your guilt to manipulate you. Paraphrasing Alice Oseman in their graphic novel Heartstopper, love can’t cure a mental illness.

Any Way the Wind Blows was... very horny. I can’t point out how this makes the book bad exactly, but it wasn’t something I enjoyed. One of Rainbow Rowell’s strongest skills is that her quotes, when loose, are good. They tend to be poetic and just beautiful, overall. But in the... explicit scenes, these skills were barely used, and I felt like I was reading NSFW tweets off of someone’s private account on Twitter. Besides, the first two books of the series weren’t written like that, so the change was very sudden.

The older people could’ve been more explored. Penelope and Mitali’s relationship and how similar the both of them are compared to each other, Daphne and Professor Bunce’s insecurities and why they believed in Smith-Smith, Fiona, Nico, and Ebb... Also, the Mage and Lucy. We could’ve had more on them, y’know. 

The pop culture references. They made the book read even more like Twitter’s feed. Honestly, if I wanted to read prompts and nice ship content alongside memes from Twitter with some horny thoughts sprinkled all around, I would’ve opened the Twitter app. Or Tumblr, Instagram, whatever.

The POV switching felt lazy to me at times. It’s nice to know how different characters are experiencing that situation, yes, but sometimes, like during the discovery that Simon is a Salisbury, it read as if Rowell wanted to create tension, but couldn’t think of any other way to do it except the switching around.

Narrative wise, I think Simon and Baz should’ve spent more time broken up. 

[dreamingofaizawa]

Leaving Him, Finding Her

Professor! Aizawa Shouta x Fem! Student! Reader

College AU

***18+ Fic***

If you are not 18 please make your way to the nearest exit, thank you and enjoy the rest of your day.

Warnings: smutty smut, HEAVY DADDY KINK, DD/LG dynamic, Daddy Dom Aizawa, complete sub reader, a temporary collar cuz I have a thing for collars (don’t come @ me, a real collar was too big a commitment to put in a forbidden hookup), praise kink in here, light oral (female receiving), bondage, shibari, unprotected sex, Aizawa being softer than a baby’s bottom, angst, fluff

Word count: 4.6 k

Author’s Note: Alright, ngl I cried writing the end to this cause I’m a little bitch when it comes to the softness after angst. Like, the only thing that makes me cry more than a sad ending is a happy one, and writing these scenes as they pley out is making me absolutely fucking weak. Also, my daddy and praise kinks are beaming, and so is my absolute love for aftercare. I’m lowkey super proud of this one, I’m a sucker for soft doms. 

Update: I'm editing it. Timestamp: 3:23 am Fri, May 14. (Very minimal) Editing completed: 4:20 am Fri, May 14.

Enjoy the read~

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He's beautiful. Ruggedly handsome in every way. Long, wavy, raven locks pulled into a slightly messy bun, revealing the scruff kept just barely tame on his strong jawline and chin. The dark circles under obsidian bloodshot eyes did nothing to steal from his allure. The scar under his eye and a frame too muscular for a simple college professor made you wonder what he’d done before lecturing in your physics class. It also had you wondering other things.

‘(y/l/n)’

What exactly did all that muscle look like? What did it feel like? Running your fingers down his neck and chest, trailing down his abdomen. Or crawling your hands up his legs, caressing his thick, muscled thighs. At night your thoughts ran rampant with images of your physics professor. A very naked professor, to be specific. And you had a title for him that you’d never want to reveal outside of your dorm bedroom.

‘Miss (y/l/n)’

What did he look like under the white dress shirt that was just slightly tight over his chest? And his pants that were fitted perfectly around his thick legs. You're experienced enough to know how submissive you are, and you wonder if he’d be a good dom, wonder if you could be a good enough sub for him. What did it feel like to have him bend you over his desk? Or tie you up as he ravaged your body? What did it feel like to let him have his way with you, to give him control…

“Miss (y/l/n)!”

You jump, immediately snapped back to reality, and recognize who had called your name. Your words came tumbling out without a second thought.

“Yes da-” you catch yourself, “Mr. Aizawa!... Yes, Mr. Aizawa?” Your face burned and your eyes shot wide at the fact that you’d nearly just called him the title from your fantasies. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice, and neither did any of your other classmates.

“If you aren’t paying attention perhaps the material is not challenging enough for you?” You swallow and shake your head.

“No, sir! I’m just a little tired, that’s all! I’ll be more attentive.” He raises an eyebrow at you, clearly unconvinced.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve been distracted during class. See me during office hours.”

With that he continued with the lecture on centripetal force. You groan inwardly, though you only have yourself to blame.

Your grades hadn’t slipped, even if you were zoning out in class. Mr. Aizawa hit the nail on the head when he asked if the material wasn’t difficult enough for you. You’d studied physics before, it was simple for you, and you only needed to ask for notes from your classmates to be sure you did the work the way your professor wanted it to be done. The only reason you’d been enrolled in the class was because it was a requirement, and it was your last year so you had to take it. If it weren’t for your smoking hot professor you’d have hated every second you needed to sit in the lecture hall. He released the class, and you quickly packed up and left, not seeing the darkness in your professor’s eyes as he watched you leave.

It's dark by the time you still back onto campus, Mr. Aizawa’s office hours are strangely extremely late. There's no movement in the dark hallways, the only light coming from underneath Mr. Aizawa’s office door as you approach. The fact that the institution is large enough to give every teacher their own office is beginning to bother you, your overactive imagination getting the better of you.

After a breath, you knock lightly, answered by a muffled, 'Come in'. Another breath. You twist the handle and step into the office, and the man mumbles, 'Close the door behind you please'. You oblige, though your heart is beating out of your chest.

“You wanted to see me, professor?” He hums, eyes flicking up to you as he sets a red pen down on the desk.

“Yes, miss (y/l/n). You haven’t been paying attention in my lectures.” You look down at your hands clasped in front of you, nerves and shame beginning to eat at your resolve.

“I apologize, I’ve been tired lately,” you lie, sticking with your story from earlier.

“And yet you have one of the highest grades in the class.” You keep your eyes glued to your hands, which are now fidgeting nervously. The silence is beginning to nag at your mind, your nerves buzzing.

“I think you’re lying to me.” Your eyes widen momentarily, then you force a confused expression as you look up at your professor.

“I’m not sure what you mean…” He leans forward in his chair, his elbows holding his weight on his desk.

“I mean I think you’re distracted for other reasons. If you were struggling to sleep it would be evident. I’m a prime example,” he motions to his face. You bite the inside of your lip, your heart thumping loud in your ears.

“W-what other reasons would I be distracted?” He stands up and slowly makes his way around his desk, stopping mere inches in front of you. The close proximity has your breath shallowing and your heart pounding. You keep your eyes locked onto his, something akin to fear - no, maybe it's closer to obedience - not letting you look away. He narrows his eyes at you, a skeptical but knowing look.

“Don’t think I didn’t catch that little title you let slip in class earlier.” Your eyes blow wide, your breath hitching in your throat. He walked to the door, locked it and walked back to you, his hands shoved in his pockets.

“I d-don’t…” Your words fall short when he leans down, his breath hot on your ear and neck.

“Don’t lie. What was it you almost called me?” Your body shook, your breaths jagged, but you don't answer. At your silence, he nearly growled in your ear. His left arm snakes around your waist, pulling your body into his. His right hand comes up under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

“Answer me, kitten.” The commanding tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine. You take a small breath before closing your eyes and answering.

“D-daddy. I...almost called you daddy.” He hums, the sound rumbling through your body.

“Open your eyes. Look at me.” You obey nearly instantly, swallowing as you meet his gaze. He let out a small sigh, words ghosted from his lips.

“Good girl.” The praise makes your entire body shudder, and a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Now, tell me why you would call your professor ‘daddy’ so automatically.” You felt your face burn, a mix of embarrassment and arousal coursing through your veins.

“I… I think about you… at night…” He tilts his head and quirks a brow, urging you to continue. Your voice is shaky, your eyes struggling to keep eye contact as you reveal your darkest secrets to the man at the center of them.

“I call you daddy when I’m alone in bed…”

“Or when you’re in the middle of a lecture.” You bite your bottom lip and nod as he finishes your sentence.

“Such a naughty little girl, aren’t you. What should you say when you do something wrong?” You swallow thickly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry.” His hand under your jaw turns and grips it hard, just enough to make you wince.

“I’m sorry, what?” Your eyes widen and your jaw quivers. Is he asking what you think he is?

“I-I’m sorry… Daddy." His grip on your jaw loosens as he turns your face to the side, leaning in and leaving a kiss under your ear.

“That's right. Such a good girl.” Your body shakes again, the feeling of his scruff on your cheek, his lips on your skin, and his voice in your ear, making your body react on its own.

“Do you have classes tomorrow, kitten?” You search your brain for the information he’s asking for, closing your eyes in concentration. After a few moments, you find the answer.

“N-no…” He pulls completely away from you, moving behind his desk and leaving you dazed. You watch, your body still recovering from whatever just happened, as he gathers his belongings. He holds the door open, turning to you.

“Come now kitten.” You blink at him, your mind trying to make sense of the situation. You follow him anyway, letting your body move on its own.

He’s a few steps ahead of you, and you follow him as he walks to his car, opening the passenger door. You get in, not quite able to question what’s happening, but trusting the man regardless. Soon the car pulls into a driveway, and you get out and follow the black haired man into the house, still dazed. His voice brings your attention to him, his hand under your chin again.

“Do you want this, kitten?” You nod.

“Use your voice, pretty girl.” God, hearing the praise is making your head spin.

“Yes. I want you Daddy.” His thumb strokes your cheek idly, grounding you in the moment.

“Good girl. Do you know what a safeword is?” You nod, the concept is more than familiar.

“Yes Daddy.”

“Do you have one?” Another nod.

“Gemini.” His hand lifts your chin gently as he leans down and slots his lips against yours. Your body relaxes, sinking into the kiss, focused on the sensations of his touch. His lips are soft, gentle, and his hands smooth down your back, landing on your hips.

He separates from you, looking down at your half-lidded eyes and blissed out state. You're already slipping into subspace. Your mind is floating, wanting to zero in on something. Anything. Your eyes aren’t quite focused, searching Aizawa’s face for a focal point. He recognizes that look. You need a platform to stand on, an anchor, and you need it desperately. He grabs your wrist and pulls you along behind him. He reaches into his bedside drawer and pulls out a small, but sturdy, black fabric choker. A play collar. Moving behind you, he loops it around you and clasped it at the back of your neck. When it's secure, he quickly moves in front of you and loops his finger under the material, giving a gentle tug. You shudder and take a deep breath, your eyes fluttering closed. It was enough. He hums, stroking your cheek gently.

“Is that better kitty?” You open your eyes to look up into his, and he swears there are hearts shining in them.

“Yes. Thank you daddy.” He pulls you into another kiss, this one more passionate. When his tongue licked at your lips you let your mouth fall open, his tongue searching the wet cavern fervently. He pulls away and tugs your sweater up over your head, tossing it somewhere in the room, doing the same with your bra. With your top half bare he pushes you backward until your knees hit the bed and you fall onto it. He leans over you, leaving soft kisses along your collarbones as he removes your jeans and panties.

Completely naked, he lets his eyes rake over your form laid out in front of him. A small, elated sigh rolls from his lips.

“So pretty, kitten.” Your eyes flutter closed from the praise.

“Thank you Daddy.” Aizawa groans and leans down to kiss and lick at your neck, letting his hands smooth over your hips and legs.

“Such a good girl. So obedient for Daddy.” He feels your body shiver beneath his fingers from that bit of praise. Getting up off the bed he reaches into a different drawer, pulling out three bundles of rope. Turning back to you, he gives a command.

“Middle of the bed, kitten. On your back, arms up.” At the order, you move, getting into the position he specified. 

He crawls over and begins to tie your wrists to the bar at the headboard, the rope secure, but not too tight to be uncomfortable. When he’s done with your wrists, he moves down to your legs. One by one, he lifts them and bends them at the knee, tying your ankle to your upper thigh, and spiraling the rope up to your knee, tying knots down one side and up the other in a beautiful leg tie. Finished with his task, he leans back to admire his work. You’re nearly purring. You know how much you love being restrained, and this man had made you into an artwork, laying out for his eyes, completely at his mercy. He can see the doe-eyes you're giving him, see how still you're being, how trusting you are of him to take care of you. And he loves it.

He moves between your legs, you automatically spread them to give him room, and he leans over, whispering against your lips.

“Such a good girl for me,” before giving you a soft kiss.

“Stay still for me, pretty thing.” He gets off the bed and swiftly undresses, returning to you. You sigh out, elated as your eyes trace down his toned body, drinking in the sight of thick corded muscle rippling under scarred skin. Your gaze lands on his already erect member, thick and long, a prominent vein running underneath. You’d imagined what he could look like, but reality far outshone your imagination. The sheer awe shone through in your voice.

“You’re beautiful.” His eyebrows raise slightly, surprised at your words. Leaning down, he kisses your neck sweetly.

“Thank you kitten. Now let me take care of you.” Back between your legs, he sits on his knees and kneads your breasts in his hands, pulling and tweaking your already hardened nipples, making you mewl. Your skin feels hot at his touch, your body relishing in the pleasure his fingers give you. He leans down and takes a bud into his mouth, swirling his tongue and sucking it before pulling off with a small pop and moving to the other, giving it the same treatment. Rough hands grope and knead down your body, giving appreciative squeezes at your hips, before smoothing his palms down your pelvis. He sits back on his heels and gazes at your glistening pussy, already dripping with arousal. Swiping a finger up your slit, he gathers the slick there and brings it up to his lips, sucking your juices off his finger with a groan.

“You taste so sweet kitty.” You respond with a mewl and another ‘thank you’. He takes his finger and slides it into your heat, and you sigh at the sensation as he pumps it slowly, before adding a second finger. The stretch is wonderful, and he begins to curl and scissor his fingers, searching. You let out a small moan and your back arches slightly off the bed when his fingers curl and hit that spongy spot inside you.

“There it is. Does that feel good kitty?” You nod, floating on bliss.

“Yes, Daddy, it feels good.” He hums and returns his attention back to the task at hand, increasing his pace as he pumps his fingers. His other hand comes up to your pelvis, and his mouth latches onto your clit. The stimulation has you gasping and squirming under his ministrations, and the hand on your pelvis holds you still.

He slips his fingers out and holds them to your lips, and you open your mouth to suck your essence off of them.

You can feel the coil in your belly tighten, winding up as Aizawa hits all the right spots inside you that has you softly moaning and straining against your bindings. Your wet walls are fluttering around his fingers, his tongue lashing at your puffy nub.

“I can feel you. Cum for me kitty.” He reattaches his mouth to your clit and sucks harshly, his fingers digging into that soft patch inside you, and your walls clamp down as you come apart, the muscles in your abdomen tensing and arching your back off the bed. Aizawa releases your clit, but keeps pumping his fingers, letting you ride out your high.

“Such a good girl, kitty.” He pulls your hips up onto his knees as he rubs his painfully hard cock up and down your core, gathering the slick on his shaft. You desperately want to feel him inside you, but you still yourself and hold back your begging mewls. Your resilience and need to be obedient and good for him makes Aizawa groan.

“I want to hear you, kitten. Every sound you need to make, I want to hear it.” He lines himself up with your slicked hole as you nod. With that he pushes his cock into you, and you mewl out at the delicious stretch he’s giving you. You’re both panting as he bottoms out inside you and holds still, allowing you to adjust to him.

“You’re so tight babygirl. Feels so good inside you.” He grips your hips and begins a slow pace, grinding into you, making you moan and squirm, but it’s not enough.

“Please Daddy, harder, please.” The near growl that escapes him has you reeling.

“Since you asked so nicely, kitten.” He pulls out almost completely before slamming into you and setting a brutal pace, and you’re moaning out loud, your voice a sinful melody in Aizawa’s ears. Your limbs are struggling against the restraints, tugging and flexing hard. Before you know it, that coil is tightening again, pulling taut in the pit of your stomach, searing white hot pleasure pooling like magma. Your walls are fluttering again, and Aizawa reaches down to rub tight circles onto your clit, urging you to come undone. He’s pounding into you with reckless abandon, and as you feel yourself coming to that edge his hips begin to stutter, making known he’s close too. He angles his hips and ruts into you, hitting your g-spot mercilessly, and you’re pushed off the edge, moaning loud, toes curling, cumming hard and clamping down on his cock. A few more strokes, and he pulls out as he’s cumming, covering your chest and belly in his hot, thick cum. 

You’re both panting as you come down from your highs, exhausted and spent. After a few minutes, Aizawa gets up and disappears behind a door, returning with a damp washcloth. He cleans his cum off of you and tosses the cloth into a hamper, before beginning to untie your legs. Once they’re both free, he slowly pulls them out and massages them, relieving the slightly cramped muscles, and you’re sighing gratefully as the tension in your body is released. He does the same with your arms as you lay there, your body weak. When he’s done, he puts a palm on your cheek, and you nuzzle into his touch, tears beginning to form in your eyes.

“How are you feeling kitty?” You let the tears fall, the intensity of the night beginning to take a toll on your mind. He pulls your body into him, cradling you as you cry quietly, letting you ride out the emotions.

He rocks you in his arms, rubbing soothing circles into your back and whispering praises into your ear, until your cries subside into small hiccups. He leans back and looks down at you, nuzzling into his chest.

“You okay, (y/n)?” You nod and take deep breaths, relaxing in his arms.

“I’m okay. Thank you.” He hums and lifts you off the bed, carrying you into the bathroom. He plugs the drain and turns the handle, letting the tub fill with warm water. As it fills, he holds you close and places soft kisses on your face and lips, showering you with affection. When the tub is full he turns off the tap and sinks down into the water, your back to his chest, and the warm water soothes your aching body. Aizawa grabs the soap and washes you, massaging you as he goes. He scrubs shampoo into your hair, fingers massaging into your scalp making you hum appreciatively. He washes himself, then drains the tub and turns on the shower head to rinse the both of you. 

When you’re all rinsed, he steps out and dries himself with a towel, before helping you out and wrapping you with a fluffy towel of your own. Dried off, you leave the towel on the counter, and Aizawa scoops you up again and lays you down on the bed. He disappears again for a minute, and reappears with a glass of ice water, giving it to you to drink and climbing into bed.

When you finish sipping at the water, you leave it on the bedside table. Before you can move to get your clothes back on, Aizawa pulls you back into his chest, spooning you with his warm body.

“Sleep,” he grunts into your ear. You're too tired to argue, so you relax in his hold and let the blackness take over your mind.

You wake up in your professor’s arms. You turn to look at him, admiring his sleeping face. His voice startles you.

“It’s not very polite to stare.” Your face heats a little and you look away, suddenly shy.

“S-sorry.” He pulls you closer, nuzzling into your neck.

“It’s alright.” You sigh at the realization that this is going to end, that it has to end. You can’t share a bed with this man while you're his student, it could ruin both of you, moreso him. So you begin to move out of his arms, but he holds you tighter.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You sigh, a tired, sad sound.

“This can’t continue, Mr. - ”

“Shouta.” You blink.

“What?” He grunts, clearly unbothered.

“Call me Shouta.” You swallow down the lump in your throat.

“Shouta...this…can’t become a thing. You know that.” You can feel his breath on your neck as he sighs, and he releases you from his hold. Silently, you dress yourself. You dare to take a look back at him before you leave.

“Thank you, Shouta. I wish things were a little bit different.” He nods, whether in agreement or understanding you aren't sure.

“I’ll see you in class in a few days, (y/n).” You give a soft smile, and leave.

____

The few months before graduation were agonizing. Having to see Shouta three times a week drove you absolutely mad, and when you finally graduated you were almost happy that you didn’t have to see him again. But it was just as painful not seeing him. Your mind was riddled with the dark haired man for months after graduating. You’d lay awake at night wondering if you made the right choice, wondering if somehow you two could have met more often and kept the rendezvous a secret. Often you found yourself letting a few stray tears fall, wishing you’d been able to stay in bed with Shouta longer that morning. You were miserable. And you knew it was because even if the only intimacy you’d shared was the best sex you ever had, you had fallen madly, hilariously in love with your college physics professor.

____

Shouta stared up at his ceiling for what felt like the millionth time. His mind is on you. Always you. After you graduated, he knew he’d never see you again. And it killed him. Nearly 6 months had gone by, and he's still stuck on you, on your body. On your obedience. On your beautiful face sitting in his lecture hall. He’d seen you on the first day, and he was entranced by you nearly instantly. You were extremely smart, and he loved that. But he was a professional, a professor. Your professor. And you were his student. So he buried that attraction he felt and made sure to never let you see how much he wanted you. He only noticed you dazing off during class because he’d glance at you more often than he’d like to admit. He let it go, simply because your grades remained high. But that day he just happened to ask the class a question, and when nobody answered, he went to you because he knew how intelligent you were.

But when your words slipped from your mouth, something in him snapped. He knew there were very few explanations for you to use that title, all of them being you were thinking of someone using it. And by the near instant speed of your response, he could guess who was on your mind. That night was pure bliss. He loved every moment, and never regretted it. Even as you thanked him and walked out of his house, even knowing he may never get to spend another night with you, he didn’t regret anything. He let you walk away because that was the best thing to do. After you graduated, he could approach you again, and he’d get you back. But he couldn’t find you. 

In the time since graduation he’d told his best friend and fellow professor Hizashi Yamada about the complex situation. Hizashi felt for him, knowing when Shouta fell, he fell hard, and the situation is a bad one. He was never judgemental, as he’d had his fair share of forbidden romances. The blonde would visit him in class often, bringing a fresh cup of coffee for his sulking friend. The loss was affecting him more than he liked to admit, and his sleeping habits were bad enough as it is. Hizashi’s visits were always welcome, and a nice distraction, even if they were short. But he was still hooked on you.

He's sick of feeling so defeated. He's tired of feeling so lovesick. He needs a distraction. He needs coffee. He got up and showered, and got ready to drive to the nearest cafe a mile down the road. As he stood in line to order his coffee, he let his eyes wander the cafe, drinking in the soft pastel colors on the walls. It reminds him of you. You’d always wear pastel sweaters. Once again, his mind drifted and landed on you. 

And so did his eyes.

____

You had a day off work today. Deciding you didn’t want to sit around the house and sulk like you usually do, you took a shower, got dressed, grabbed your keys, wallet, phone, and a book to read, and headed to the cafe on the corner two blocks from your apartment. Sitting in the plush seat of the booth with your hot mocha latte, you cracked the book open and dove in. You got lost in the words on the pages, your mind living in the adventure written in black ink. You were ripped from your imagination when a deep voice interrupted you.

“Do you mind if I join you, kitten?” Your eyes froze on the page, jaw clenched, heart beating out of your chest. You tore your eyes from the book and looked up at none other than Shouta Aizawa. 

You haven’t seen him in almost 6 months, and the man still plagued your thoughts. But the sheer joy you felt seeing him overtook you as tears fell from your eyes. Not even a moment later, you leapt from your seat and threw your arms around his shoulders. He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you tight, afraid you’d slip from him again. You cry softly into his shoulder, letting yourself enjoy the moment with the man you know you love. You can’t help the words coming out of your mouth.

“I missed you so much, Shouta. I couldn’t stand not seeing you.” Somehow, he holds you tighter.

“I missed you too, kitten.” He reaches a hand up to pet your hair as he leans back, his dark eyes peering deep into your own.

“I’m here now. And you’re not my student anymore. So if you’d let me, I’d like to take you on a date.”

You freeze in place and look up at him, shocked at what you're hearing. You don’t know if he loves you the way you do him, but in this moment you know he has very real feelings for you. Like it's instinct, you lean in and kiss him passionately, letting your tears wash away the pain you felt ever since you left him that morning. When you broke away you were both breathless, and you nod your head frantically.

“I’d love to go on a date with you Shouta.” A genuine smile spreads across his face, a clear show of his happiness.

“Would you like to come back to my place?” You nod again, and grab your book and phone and follow him out to his car.

This time, you had no reason to leave.

This time, he had no reason to let you go.

This time, you’d stay.

[thesewordsareallihavetogive]

no body, no crime - allison argent x reader

(gif source)

Summary: When y/n disappears after confronting her husband about his affair, Allison takes matters into her own hands. Based on “no body, no crime (feat. HAIM)” by taylor swift [x]. You can find the mood board for this fic here

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: cursing, infidelity, implied kidnapping, implied murder, murder, alleged murder, alleged/implied death of reader, reader is married to a man with a j name 🤢

a/n: hi everyone! it’s been a hot minute since i posted a new fic & this is why. i’ve been working on this since late december of 2020, so this is the longest i’ve ever spent on a stand-alone work. i’ll include more gory details about the writing process at the end if you’re interested :)

dedicated to: elle (@demxters) for all of her help and ideas! this fic literally wouldn’t have gotten finished without her, send her some love <3

this is also dedicated to caoimhe (@free-pool-trash​) for not murdering me after i gave her a preview several weeks ago and then just ✨stopped writing✨

master list

Este's a friend of mine

We meet up every Tuesday night for dinner and a glass of wine

“Hey!” Allison greeted cheerily as she met y/n at their usual table tucked in the corner of their favorite restaurant. y/n returned the brunette’s smile as she stood up to hug her friend, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Allison saw through y/n’s facade and furrowed her eyebrows. “What’s wrong?” she asked as concern spread across her features.

“I think Justin is having an affair,” y/n admitted. The statement dropped like a bomb between the two women, causing Allison to nearly spew the wine in her mouth all over the table. She coughed a few times and drank some water to clear her throat before she composed herself enough to ask questions.

“What happened? Did you see something?” Allison asked hesitantly. Her mind was still reeling from the mere concept of y/n’s husband cheating on her. Sure, Justin had never been Allison’s favorite guy, but it was normal for girls to think that no guy would ever be good enough for their best friend. Right? 

Her husband's acting different and it smells like infidelity

She says, "That ain't my merlot on his mouth"

"That ain't my jewelry on our joint account"

y/n explained what had been going on over the past few weeks. Justin had been acting distant, which wasn’t too abnormal, but when he started coming home from work much later than his shifts ended and disappearing at odd hours of the night, y/n got concerned. The day that she had planned to approach him about everything and ask if anything was wrong, she got a call from her bank while driving home from work.

“Hi Mrs. y/l/n, this is Kathy from the bank. I’m calling to inform you that there have been a few large cash withdrawals from your joint account recently under your husband’s name, as well as a pretty expensive purchase yesterday at the jeweler,” the rest of Kathy’s words sounded muffled to y/n. It was nowhere near her birthday, Valentine’s day, or their anniversary, so y/n didn’t know what he could possibly be spending all their money on.

The next incident came a few days later when both y/n and Justin were home. y/n’s husband was in the shower and his phone buzzed with a new text message alert. Typically, y/n was never the type to snoop on her husband’s phone, but she figured she should check in case it was a work message. At least that’s how she justified it in her head. Justin had saved the sender’s number under the contact name “Spam Risk.” It was clever, y/n had to give him credit for that at least. Upon further inspection, y/n quickly realized that those texts weren’t sent from a telemarketer bot.

6:24 p.m.   I can’t wait to see you tonight, baby - Spam Risk

6:25 p.m.   Don’t keep me waiting too long ;) - Spam Risk

y/n thought the messages were strange, but the picture that followed the messages was definitely what threw y/n for a loop. There, on her husband’s text message thread, was a racy photo of a woman’s body that definitely wasn’t hers. y/n was quite literally stunned to silence as she dropped the phone back down onto the dresser. For the rest of the night, y/n was numb and quiet, not that Justin noticed. Then, like clockwork, he left the house at 11 p.m. with no explanation of where he was going or when he would be back.

By the end of y/n’s story, Allison’s mouth was open so wide she was sure her jaw would hit the table. 

“What are you going to do?” Allison whispered, still in shock. y/n grimaced before clearing her throat and speaking her next words with finality.

No, there ain't no doubt

I think I'm gonna call him out

Este wasn't there

Tuesday night at Olive Garden at her job or anywhere

“Hi, there should be a reservation for two under Allison Argent or y/n y/l/n for tonight,” Allison greeted warmly as she approached the hostess stand at their go-to girl’s night restaurant.

“Right this way, ma’am,” the hostess said with a smile as she grabbed two menus and led her towards their usual table. Two menus. That must mean that y/n wasn’t there yet? Allison thought it was strange, y/n almost always was the first of the two to arrive. Allison brushed off the thought as she thanked the hostess and sat down. She had intended to look over the menu, but the strangeness of it all wouldn’t leave her mind. y/n was late. She was never late. Allison pulled out her phone to text her best friend, and it then occurred to her that she hadn’t heard from y/n since last week. Allison had been away on a “work” trip with her dad for the past six days and had just gotten back into town. After 30 minutes of sitting at the table alone, half a dozen unanswered text messages, and even more calls sent straight to voicemail, Allison dropped a few bills on the table and left.

As Allison pulled out of the parking lot, she turned on the radio in a futile attempt to drown out some of her racing thoughts. Between songs the radio host took to the mic to make an announcement.

“Hello Beacon Hills, we now interrupt your regularly scheduled listening with an urgent message from the Sheriff's department. Speaking now is Sheriff Noah Stilinski,” the host trailed off before there was a brief crackle as the audio transitioned to the Sheriff’s press briefing. Allison turned up the volume as the Sheriff’s voice carried across the radio.

“Thank you all for attending and tuning in. It is with great displeasure and a heavy heart that I inform you all that y/n y/l/n has been reported missing. Shortly after 8 a.m. this morning, we were informed by her husband that she didn’t show up for work yesterday morning and also didn’t come home last night,” Sheriff Stilinski continued speaking but it all began to sound like white noise to Allison. It took everything she had in her to focus on not veering off the road so that she could head to the Sheriff’s station and speak to Stilinski in person. 

Conveniently, her route took her right past y/n and Justin’s house. Allison didn’t know what to expect as she sped by their house, but the fact that Justin’s normally filthy truck had been cleaned and waxed definitely caught her eye. The truck and driveway were soon out of sight due to the speed she was driving at, but at first glance, it looked as though his tires and grill had been replaced.

He reports his missing wife

And I noticed when I passed his house his truck has got some brand new tires

About a week had passed since y/n had been reported missing. Allison wasn’t sure how many search parties had been held, but they all resulted in the same thing: nothing. There wasn’t a single trace of her best friend, in fact, everything in Beacon Hills looked completely unchanged and normal. Allison’s focus and appetite seemed to have left with her other half, try as she might to desperately hold onto them. Her marksmanship had even been affected, something that hadn’t happened since high school.

Allison started driving around town during her free time. She wasn’t headed anywhere in particular, she mostly did it to try to clear her mind, though most times she was unsuccessful. She’d been mindlessly taking right and left turns and before she realized where she was, she passed y/n’s house.

Allison hadn’t planned to slow down as she passed the house, it was a mindless act if anything. Seeing a moving truck backed up to the house while Justin and some unfamiliar blonde woman were unloading boxes ensured that her decision to park her car where it couldn’t be seen and spy on the pair wasn’t mindless. Despite her gut telling her not to, Allison decided to give Justin the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he needed a roommate now since y/n couldn’t pay her share of the rent? Allison tried her best to keep all of her judgments and suspicions at bay as she watched the otherwise uneventful event unfold while biting her fingernails. 

A few boxes later, Justin pulled the blonde in by her waist and kissed her with a fervor that would make most people blush. Allison’s eyes nearly popped out of her head as she sat there in shock with her mouth wide open. It took a while, mostly because the kiss lasted for an obnoxious amount of time, but Allison finally regained control of her body. It was like her brain had to go through a hard reset before she was able to face the reality of the situation.

y/n was right. Justin was cheating on her. Not only that, but Justin had cheated on y/n, spent less than a week grieving her disappearance, then allowed this to happen.

And his mistress moved in

Sleeps in Este's bed and everything

Allison found out that Justin Smith’s mistress’s name was Rebecca Baker. She was a few years younger than y/n and she worked at the same company as Justin. It didn’t take long for Allison to hack into both of their iCloud accounts. A few hours of scrolling later she was really regretting her decision, especially when she got to Justin’s messages to Rebecca about y/n.

2:47 a.m.  What about your wife? - Spam Risk

2:47 a.m.  What about her? - Justin

2:48 a.m.  Are you going to leave her or kick her out or something? - Spam Risk

2:48 a.m.  It’s been taken care of. - Justin

2:48 a.m.  Taken care of? Justin, what does that mean? - Spam Risk

2:49 a.m.  Justin??? - Spam Risk

Each new message ensured that bits of Allison’s fingernails had been gnawed off while her left hand fidgeted anxiously in front of her mouth. Allison decided that those messages were probably the most incriminating thing she’d find digitally, but the time and date stamps caught her eye. The texts were sent early Monday morning, the day that y/n allegedly left home and then didn’t show up for work or return home. 

A chill spread from deep within Allison’s bones up to the surface of her skin, making goosebumps appear. Allison didn’t know what exactly, but she knew something terrible had happened to y/n and Justin had something to do with it. She shut her laptop a little harder than necessary as a resolved look spread across her face.

No, there ain't no doubt

Somebody's gotta catch him out

Good thing my daddy made me get a boating license when I was fifteen

Allison regularly accessed her personal armory, whether it was to prepare for a job or pack for a trip to the shooting range, but it had been a while since a powerful and unforgiving feeling hung over her shoulders. Allison carefully ran her fingers over her custom silver arrowheads as she considered her options. Her father’s words from one of her adolescent archery lessons rung in her head.

“The type of bow and arrows you use doesn’t matter. As long as you use them right, you’ll be able to make any shot. Don’t get hung up on the technicalities.”

Not too long after, her bag was stocked with her essentials: a bow, her trusted black leather archery glove, as well as a handful of arrows, though these ones lacked the silver heads she typically reserved for more exotic expeditions.

The rare dark clouds in the California sky at sunset were reflected in Allison’s cold eyes. The drive to her target’s house was familiar, the turns she made were almost instinctual. Normally these roads reminded her of her coffee dates with y/n and nights they spent talking for hours until sunlight crept through the windows. Now, her mind was blank and her heart was devoid of all emotion.

Even though Allison had disabled her car’s GPS earlier, she parked her car about a mile away from his house. When she was done, there wouldn’t be any evidence that could be traced back to her. She memorized his schedule; at 5:00 p.m. his shift ended and recently he’d been getting home by 5:20. His girlfriend got home sometime between 5:30 and 5:45, but she would leave for her pilates class around 6:30 and wouldn’t get home until 7:45. Allison had just over an hour window to get the job done, but it wouldn’t take that long. If everything went according to plan, she’d be off the property within a few minutes of taking the shot.

When she arrived her target had just come home from work and was alone in the house. She waited patiently, hidden by the trees that the property backed up to. She watched as he moved around through the open curtains and then as his girlfriend entered the house and kissed him with a passion that made Allison’s stomach churn. She watched as they ate dinner together, as her target’s girlfriend got ready for her gym class, and watched as she got in her car and drove away. When Allison checked her watch it was only 6:25 p.m., she had far more time than she needed.

The plan was simple, really. Under the cover of darkness, she’d flip the breakers, effectively cutting the power. When her target came out to investigate, she’d let him fumble around in the darkness for a while. He’d always been a paranoid individual, so it wouldn’t take much to get him on edge. A rustle in the bushes here, a small snapped tree branch there, and then something that would get his attention. Allison wanted his eyes to be on her when she took the shot.

Allison’s target was watching TV so he knew immediately when the power went out, plus the fact that the once illuminated house was suddenly bathed in darkness. The high-pitched yelp that escaped his throat almost made Allison laugh. She had to keep quiet though, at least for now. As expected, the dopey man scurried around to the side of the house where the breakers were located in no time. The batteries in the flashlight he held were on their last leg, that much was evident in the way the light beam flickered every few seconds.

Just as he opened the door to the circuit breaker panel, Allison moved. A rustle here. The sound practically echoed in the silence of the night, causing the man to whip around and shine his flashlight directly at the source of the noise. There was nothing there. It’s just the wind, he reasoned before getting back to work. After a few switches had been flipped - none of them for the outdoor lights - he heard another noise. This one was much louder than the last, a small snapped tree branch there. Again, the flashlight’s flickering light beam uncovered nothing, but it was enough to make all of the hairs on the back of Allison’s target’s neck stand up straight. He hastily flipped the rest of the breakers and the outdoor lights finally came on. 

When yellow light from the backyard fixtures flooded the area, both Allison and her target were revealed. Allison stood a considerable distance away from the man, but she was close enough to see the blood drain from his face and his Adam's apple bob. When his eyes darted to the bow hung by her side, realization dawned on his face. He began to turn away with the intention of running, but Allison’s voice held him frozen in place.

“Don’t move,” she ordered quietly without any aggression behind her tone. Her face wasn’t threatening, she just looked calm and focused. Allison’s smooth features and peaceful expression was what scared the man the most.

“I- I’m sorry- I didn’t-” he stammered out, his arms and legs beginning to tremble.

“Shh,” Allison chastised as she raised her bow, loading it with an arrow. Her fingers moved with precision, her muscles knew this routine well.

“Please don’t- no, you can’t, you can’t do this!” the man pleaded. He wasn’t above begging on his knees, but Allison wasn’t about to give him the chance. Her gaze was sharply focused on her target, the view of her tightly grasped bow in her peripheral vision.

“Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent.”

When Allison’s fingers let go of the bowstring the arrow flew smoothly through the air. The only sounds heard were the arrowhead piercing skin and the man wordlessly falling to the ground. The arrow went straight through his heart. Maybe Allison’s shot landed right where she intended. Maybe there was a metaphor in there. Allison checked her wristwatch, the numbers 6:45 shining back at her. An entire hour to spare.

Time to take out the trash.

I've cleaned enough houses to know how to cover up a scene

The job didn’t take long at all and it was definitely one of Allison’s least challenging ones, but it still felt nice to take a hot shower and sit in front of her fireplace with a cup of tea. The fire served a dual purpose; the crackles of the burning wood soothed her like a lullaby while the flames licked around and destroyed her bloody clothes from earlier. All of her equipment had been cleaned and put away, positioned exactly as it had been before. Everything was the same, nothing changed or out of place. There was just one less heartbeat in the world that night.

Good thing Este's sister's gonna swear she was with me

On the second day of the trial,  Rebecca Baker’s lawyers were throwing whatever they could against the wall to see if something would stick. That morning they began to argue that Allison Argent might’ve abducted and murdered Justin Smith in retaliation for y/n’s disappearance. It was all speculation at best, but the theory unfortunately made sense to the jury. Before things could get too far, the prosecution called its first witness of the day to the stand.

“Mrs. Martin, where were you on the night of Mr. Smith’s suspected disappearance?” the prosecution lawyer questioned calmly. 

“I was with Allison at my house. We were having a girls night in, you can check my security cameras,” Lydia answered confidently. Lydia still had a pocketful of favors from her MIT days, so when the jurors were shown the clips from Lydia’s home security cameras, they saw exactly what they would’ve expected based on Lydia’s testimony. 

Truth be told, Lydia didn’t know anything about what happened that night; including Allison’s whereabouts and any details related to Justin’s alleged demise. All she knew was that Allison called and asked for a simple favor - an alibi for just a few hours. Lydia didn’t ask questions and Allison didn’t give answers.

Good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy

On the third day of the trial, Rebecca Baker took the stand. Her lawyers tried to help her as best they could, but the prosecution was ruthless. All of the evidence was circumstantial at best -  all parties, including the judge and jurors, knew that - but it was enough to make everyone reconsider the spotless image the defense had tried to create for Ms. Baker.

“Ms. Baker, is it true that you knowingly engaged in a romantic relationship while Justin Smith was married to and living with his wife?” another one of the prosecution’s attorneys began.

“Yes,” Rebecca replied meekly. Allison internally scoffed from her seat in the gallery. She found irony in the fact that Rebecca didn’t find any humility or shame in sleeping with another woman’s husband until she was under oath.

“Is it also true that within approximately a week of Mrs. y/l/n’s disappearance, you moved into Mr. Smith and Mrs. y/l/n’s house?”

“That is correct,” Rebecca said as she began to wring her hands together anxiously. The judge tapped his wrist watch and shot a stern look towards the prosecutor. The man nodded in response and continued to his final points.

“I’ll wrap up my questions for you, Ms. Baker. Can you confirm that shortly after moving in with Mr. Smith, multiple legal and financial arrangements and adjustments were made? And these new arrangements make you the sole beneficiary of Mr. Smith’s life issuance policy, assets, and investments?”

By the end of the prosecution’s final question, every jury member and spectator sat up straighter and waited to hear Rebecca’s response with bated breath. The blonde ball of nerves sighed defeatedly before turning to face the attorney directly as she answered his question.

“Yes, that’s true.”

“No further questions, your honor.” As the lead prosecutor returned to the plaintiff’s table, Rebecca’s attorney stood up to address the judge.

“Your honor, the defense would like to request a brief recess,” the defense attorney nearly pleaded. Though his poker face was much better than his client’s, it was clear that he was getting nervous.

“We’ll reconvene in 15 minutes,” the judge ordered with a stern glare cast towards Rebecca.

They think she did it but they just can't prove it

It soon became clear to Rebecca that the recess her legal team requested was nothing more than a “kiss your dignity goodbye” meeting. If she hadn’t been queasy before the recess was called, she definitely was upon re-entering the courtroom.

The rest of the trial seemed to move in slow motion for Rebecca. A few more witnesses were called to the stand, more lackluster evidence was presented, both sides made their closing arguments, and the jury left to discuss the verdict. After what felt like an eternity, the jury returned with an official decision.

Silence settled over the room as a single juror stood to address the court.

“The jury finds the defendant not guilty on count 1 of murder in the first degree based on lack of sufficient evidence. The jury finds the defendant not guilty on count 2 of kidnapping based on lack of sufficient evidence. The jury finds the defendant guilty on count 3 of insurance fraud based on…” 

The rest of the jurors’ statement sounded like white noise to Rebecca. She was just barely coherent enough to hear the judge deliver her punishment a few minutes later. $50,000 fine and 200 hours of community service.

Allison stuck around to the bitter end of the trial to hear the verdict in person. In all honesty, Allison didn’t want Rebecca to go to jail. It wouldn’t be right for her to serve time for a crime she didn’t commit, but Allison did find satisfaction in the fact that Rebecca would soon be picking up garbage in a fluorescent orange vest.

After the majority of the spectators had vacated the courtroom gallery, Allison leisurely gathered her things. Justice had been served to Justin, she personally made sure of that, and now justice had been served to Rebecca. The blonde and brunette women briefly locked eye contact as Allison made her way towards the exit. 

“You did this,” Rebecca whispered to Allison. Suddenly, it was like a flip switched within her. One moment she was numb, yet calm and collected, and the next moment she was screaming (literal) bloody murder and had to be held back by her lawyers.

“YOU DID THIS! YOU KILLED JUSTIN, YOU BITCH!” Rebecca cried, though her words fell on deaf ears. Allison exited the courtroom with her head held high as the courtroom deputy and defense lawyers did their best to calm the hysterical woman.

She thinks I did it but she just can't prove it

A week later the court case was still on Allison’s mind but the emotional scars had begun to scab. Healing was never a straight or smooth path, Allison had learned that the hard way over the years, but this was a start.

y/n’s landlord had been generous enough to allow Allison to gather y/n’s things before he cleaned out the house for new renters. As Allison walked through the home she once considered to be an extension of her own, she felt her throat dry out and tighten up. She hadn’t realized she was crying until she was wiping salty tears off of the picture frames she’d carefully picked up. Each photo unlocked a new memory, some even elicited a chuckle out of Allison amidst her tears.

A photo from y/n’s wedding day stood out among all the rest as Allison’s eyes jumped from frame to frame. It was a candid shot Lydia had taken while they were in y/n’s dressing room before the ceremony. y/n looked as beautiful as ever in her flowy white gown and Allison’s mulberry maid of honor dress complemented it well. As Allison put the final touches on y/n’s hair and makeup, y/n fastened the clasp of a custom necklace behind Allison’s neck. On a thin, medium-length chain hung an arrowhead from the first time Allison had ever tried to teach y/n how to shoot a bow and arrow. y/n failed miserably, but it was a cherished memory for both girls. Since that day, Allison had only taken the necklace off a handful of times.

Allison smiled bittersweetly at the memory and wiped a fresh tear off of the decorative frame before pulling her necklace out from underneath her shirt. She pressed a gentle kiss to the cool silver arrowhead and then to the photo frame, right above y/n’s styled hair. 

A feeling that Allison couldn’t quite explain flowed through her body just then; it was like taking a deep breath of fresh air after being stuck underwater or seeing the gentle rays of the sun for the first time after a hurricane, it felt like freedom. Allison felt almost as if y/n was right there next to her, with her head resting on Allison's shoulder and wrapping her arms around the brunette’s torso. In that moment, Allison somehow wordlessly knew with every fiber in her being that y/n was finally at peace. 

No, no body, no crime

I wasn't letting up until the day he died

a/n: AHHHH DID YOU LIKE IT? it was kind of a wild ride from start to finish and i definitely shed a few tears while i was writing it. please lmk what you think!

okay, now onto the writing process from hell: i started drafting ideas for the fic on dec. 21 or 22 of 2020, after i put together a mood board. i had written more than half of the fic when i decided i hated it and scrapped the whole thing on xmas eve (~3000 words 🤡). after that i was kinda in a rut and couldn’t decide how i wanted to end the fic so i ended up writing and deleting ~2500 words over the past month and a half. @demxters​ is an absolute GODDESS and helped me come up with the ending, so i am eternally grateful to her for that. if any of this seems a lil strange it’s probably because i finished writing it at 4:45 a.m. after working on it for 3ish hours straight. have a great day lovelies!

join my tag list!

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[gettothestabbing]

Back from the real world!

And I got some venting to do!

SO. I didn’t have Internet except at work (where I’m not supposed to be on it when not on break, a rule I broke a lot and feel only slightly bad about) for about 3 weeks. And this happened about the same time as the death of Kazuki Takahashi. Who created my favorite manga, and the first anime/show I loved as a child that wasn’t something my parents picked out for me.

I know my blog is a heady mix of politics and fanart and real art and a bunch of things now. But when I started out, and I was afraid to post anything political, I was following mostly Yu-Gi-Oh! fanblogs. (And Communismkills. Love her.) I’ve posted a lot less about YGO over time. This is partly because of the Obsession Cycle (see below) and partly because I am influenced by the content that people I like post. Hence why I got more political from following CK, more artistic from following art blogs, etc.

The Obsession Cycle is a cycle of hyperfixations on certain stories that I love more than any others. Although new stories are often added to the cycle, making it longer or shorter, it always includes Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters, Gravity Falls, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Hey Arnold!, Disney in some form, and Ghibli in some form. The cycle is complete either when I drop all hyperfixations for a period of time, or when I return to the fixation I started with in the most recent iteration. My sister, explaining this concept to her husband, pointed out that I used to cycle through this entirely within 8 months. Then, adding new media in and having more to do in college and law school, the cycle widened dramatically to 3 years. Right now, she estimates that my cycle is about 2 years long. The implication of course is that there has been a regression.

I would agree with that. To be completely honest, I was about to reread the manga when I heard Takahashi had died, and that news hit me very hard. While I am not interested in large swathes of the franchise that Yu-Gi-Oh! spawned, and therefore do not see Takahashi as an ideal, I have always respected and admired his work. It is also easy to sympathize with him losing some creative control over time due to the insane popularity of Duel Monsters, but he found a way to end his story satisfactorily (twice, if we include the Dark Side of Dimensions movie) despite one game taking massive precedence.

So without Internet, having just moved into a new apartment, with a lot of frustration at work, and feeling very isolated and upset, I restarted my cycle and started shoving Yu-Gi-Oh! into my brain as fast and as hard as possible. I have been very very annoying to talk to lately, even to myself. My sister has been delicately asking me “when I’m going to be done” with this phase for at least a week. I don’t really see an end in sight, and I can never predict when the feverish fascination will fade.

Honestly, this is a period of mourning. Even though the story concluded long ago, Yu-Gi-Oh! has always had a special place in my heart. It helped me make friends (through playing the card game w/boys at school) and learn new ways to express myself artistically. (Yes, I wrote fic, no, you can’t read it.) It was something I enjoyed that no one else in my family liked.

It was also my safe place. I was nine when I got into the show. You know what else happened when I was nine? I started puberty ahead of everyone else in my class and I was subsequently molested. I took real comfort and strength from how characters stood up for themselves and made themselves comfortable in their own bodies (or others’ bodies, as the case may be). I liked that they could make stupid mistakes but still have their friends’ support.

I only ever got to see the first two seasons because for some reason the TV station would never air anything past the first half of the Battle City finals. I also owned the first volume of the manga, which is extremely different from the dub I knew and hinted at a wealth of interpretation and content that was beyond my reach. Then my card-playing friend moved away and my mom died. Real life stuff like that got in the way of my exploring the story further until I was in high school and found the abridged series.

I never let myself finish the manga before, because I didn’t have all the volumes. Now I’m waiting on the last one to come in the mail. Because I always expect the cycle to come back again, I try never to fully exhaust any of these media properties. If it appears I will run out of the finite content for any of them, I try to start distracting myself with lesser media, chores, anything else to draw it out. I have to assume other people do this but I’ve never met anyone IRL who does (that would admit it anyway).

Despite all of this, I’m still an adult with a job. I’m trying to manage and balance my hyperfixation with all the other things I need to do. Like if I can’t have any free time, I’ll play instrumental music from the show as I work. I guess I expected to outgrow the Obsession Cycle without having to expend noticeable effort in doing so. Like my dad has told me many times, “it’s a phase.” Sometimes you don’t return to things you used to like, sure. But I resent them applying that label to Yu-Gi-Oh!. It’s really not a phase. It was a part of my childhood (then rapidly vanishing) that helped me learn the person I wanted to be as an adult. It still inspires me so much.

And aside from all that, I think having that break from regular Internet time helped me refine what I want out of that time now that I have it back. I enjoyed how much reading and organizing I was able to get done. I felt less distracted, even as I chafed at my difficulties in listening to music or communicating with friends. I may post less for awhile, maybe permanently. I don’t think I’ll ever really leave Tumblr or the Internet. And I didn’t enjoy being forcibly without it. But I feel like my relationship with the Internet will be healthier going forward.

[arhvste]

❝ kuroo tetsurō - rate-a-child ❞

in which kuroo takes a more refined but catty approach towards having his say on your daughters ex boyfriend leaving her in tears

an - sorry this took so long to get out, this went hand in hand with the hcs i did that’s why it’s a little late seeing as i changed the concepts for oo of yesterday’s work !!

tetsu week masterlist

“i’ll kill him.”

“you’ll do nothing of a sort.”

“i meant with kindness.”

“kindness my ass, the look on your face says it all!”

you were currently in a hissing match between yourself and your husband as you stood outside the bedroom door of your 16 year olds daughter who was currently curled up under her sheets which were damp with tears.

the catalyst to the situation was when your daughter first slipped in through the front door and failed to greet yourself and her father as usual. you hadn’t missed this as you poked your head out of the living room only to see a pair of legs stagger up the stairs without much care placed in each step.

“tetsurō, is she okay?” you whispered nodding towards the door your daughter had just entered through from school.

“i couldn’t tell you, she didn’t look in my direction.” kuroo raised an eyebrow as he looked up from his laptop screen briefly towards the hall.

“i think i’ll go and see.” you muttered as you dropped your phone onto the couch and headed towards the staircase.

“i’ll come.” kuroo got up ready to stand only to halt when you shot him a piercing look.

“this is mother-daughter time i think.”

“aw don’t be like that! why can’t i be included and see what’s wrong with my little girl?”

you rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“because i don’t think she likes how you baby her so much. she’s independent tetsu, we have to accept it. just let me talk to her first and you can come up in a few minutes okay?”

“guess you’re gonna have to take her amounts of babying in her place then.” he pouted to which you let out an airy before heading upstairs to your daughters room.

you knocked and waited for the signal to come in but it never came. you tried again and still no reply. pressing your ear to the door you heard soft sobs coming from inside as your heart rate sped up.

“i’m coming in” you quietly warned before gently opening the door, your daughters saddened form right before your eyes.

“oh!” you rushed over to her side and pulled her weak state into your arms as you sat on the side of her bed.

“baby what’s wrong?” you cooed stroking the hair stuck to her face as a result of wet tears dripping down her face.

“-he -he dumped me.” she hiccuped as more tears dropped down her face.

you frowned silently to yourself as you racked your brain for an appropriate response.

kuroo had been your first and only boyfriend so you had never been broken up with before so you couldn’t understand the pain she must’ve been feeling. for now, rocking her back and fourth and calming the crying seemed like the best option until you could think of how to approach it without looking too aimless.

as if the heavens had opened their gates specifically for you to grant any wish you so much desired, your husband entered your field of vision in the doorway as his eyes softened at the two of you.

“so much for mother-daughter time.” you tutted and kuroo softly smiled before approaching the two of you.

“i know you’re relieved i’m here, it’s written all over that pretty face of yours.” he replied he took a seat on the other side of your daughter.

“can you not flirt while in front of me whike i’m going through my first teenage heartbreak!” you daughter snapped as kuroos eyes widened.

“heartbreak?” you sent a pleading look his way as if to beg for him to say something to attempt damage control.

“o-oh i mean, heartbreak yes. well, i’m just waiting on you to confirm it was that ugly boyfriend of yours who did it so i can take matters into my own hands.”

you glared at your husband who now had a small fire ignited in his eyes.

“it was. -but please don’t say anything! i don’t want this to be a thing!” you daughter tugged at your husbands arm pleading him to keep this to himself.

“no can do. princess, you’re crying. i never want to see you cry especially over some boy who’s league you were well above anyway!” he scoffed as he got up to leave.

“don’t worry pretty one, dads gonna get him back for ya!”

“tetsu don’t-”

and with that he shut the door behind him, leaving you to scramble to your feet offering an apologetic look to your daughter to which she dryly laughed and waved off her fathers antics. you hastily dashed out the room to grab kuroos hand before he could get any further down the hall which was where you were presently questioning your husbands motives.

“y/n, let me go please.” he whined as you held his arm tighter.

“and if i do then what?” you pressed, raising an eyebrow at him.

“then i’ll get revenge for our little girl.”

“then i’m not letting you go.” you quipped back frowning at him.

“makes no difference to me.” he sighed using his other arm to scoop you up easily off of your feet and out of shock you let him go.

“tetsurō! let me go! i want no part in this!” you hissed as your husband carried you down the stairs and into his home office.

“why are we in here?” you quietened down once he placed you on the plush black couch in his work space.

“you didn’t seriously think i was going to actually show up at his house or something did you?” he grinned as he sat upon his desk chair to fire up his desktop.

“yes.” you honestly muttered, raising an eyebrow towards him.

he cackled and shook his head before motioning for you to come over to which you found yourself obliging to.

“look, i’m not gonna be too embarrassing speaking for her but i think you’re gonna want a say in this eventually.” he explained as your confused face only stuck as you watched him open his emails.

he typed in the email address of your daughters ex boyfriends parents. you knew you had their contact details as they had requested your husband help them get their son into the sport industry to which kuroo very reluctantly agreed to, only because you insisted.

kuroo was never a fan of the boy. he knew from the first time he met him that he would cause trouble and as much as he’d like to have his ‘told you so’ moment, he knew that it could wait. he’d prove his point another way instead.

‘dear mr and mrs whatever your last names were, i’ve forgotten it already,’

you flicked him on the arm for that but something told you to let him continue as you silently fed off of the pettiness yourself.

‘it’s come to my attention my suspicions about your ‘boy’ were right. he is in fact a trouble maker and i should’ve prevented him from getting involved with us from the very start when i first had a hunch.’

kuroo typed with such precision and passion. you had never seen him so into an email before and you weren’t sure whether you should’ve been concerned or not.

‘i first had an idea of what sort of person your son was when my daughter for some reason brought him over for dinner. his manners? comparable to a farm animal. who eats with their mouth open?’

humming as he typed, kuroo mentally listed all the time he didn’t like the boy which wasn’t exactly hard since you knew he had disliked him from the very start and while right now your daughter might’ve been upset and distraught, he was silently happy that he was finally out of the picture.

‘another thing i find closely similar to a farm animal in him is his hair. i don’t particularly understand why you allow him to leave the house looking such a state, but you’re certainly not doing him any favours by doing so.’

you snorted reading this one as kuroo glanced up at you.

“i think that’s a bit rich coming from you.” you hummed as your husband snickered.

“my hair and his hair are two very different situations. mine is unintentional and you love it. his... well, his is just straight up ugly and he intentionally styles it that way.” kuroo replied before turning back down to face the screen.

‘i remember the first time i enquired your son about his very ‘unique’ hairstyle and he scoffed in my face and told me it’s what was currently ‘trendy’. forgive me if i’m wrong, but a trend is a pattern multiple people follow and make normalised no? i haven’t seen another soul wander around with the same bizarre mop on their head as your son, perhaps a dictionary is in order to be purchased for your son so he can educate himself on what a ‘trend’ really is, because no sane being would follow along with his atrocious aesthetic.’

your eyes danced over the screen as kuroo typed it up so flawlessly, it was as if he had revised everything he’d been wanting to say for months which in all honesty, wouldn’t shock you considering how vocal he was speaking against your daughters then boyfriend.

‘so not only is your son lacking in the aesthetics department but also the personality. i’m not quite sure why he thinks his rude tone is normal, but it’s not. why does he act like owns the place whenever he visits my house. i hate to make assumptions, but your boy isn’t bringing any income to the table is he? so tell me why he acts like he does whenever he comes over.’

the irritation deepened on kuroos face as he recalled all the times the boy would come over and treat the house like his own. his shoes muddy and left in the middle of the hallway, his feet always propped up on the coffee table centred in the living room by the couches, no greeting or acknowledgment when he’d come in, he’d simply come in and head straight upstairs to your daughters room. kuroo was agitated each and every time but held his growing aggravation together at the insistence from you that your daughter would come to her senses soon enough and dump him. the outcome is technically what yourself and kuroo had wanted, although, the two of you were confused as to why your daughter was crying over someone so inferior. nevertheless, you were both internally relieved it was all over now.

‘while i know your son is still growing up and such, i do think 16 years old is a little concerning for him to not know manners. this is exactly why i was reluctant to help him into getting into the professional sports industry. both yourselves and your son were demanding of my assistance however, let it be known msby weren’t fans of your son and his awful mannerisms in the slightest so i wouldn’t prepare myself to cheer him on at their stadium anytime soon so hold your breaths.’

kuroo recalled the few times he brought the wretched boy to work with him only to suffer at the hands of secondhand embarrassment. he was rude and obnoxious towards the staff and had provoked several of the players leaving kuroo to apologise in his place and guide him as far away from the pros as possible.

‘i’m glad myself and my family are finally able to wash our hands with him. i didn’t like him and my wife wasn’t too keen either. teach him to do better than this. while i’m bothered by my own daughters current state of upset, i know her tears will dry quickly once she realises what a waste of time this all was. i don’t want a reply, i want an improvement from your son. don’t let him treat his next girlfriend (if he’s lucky enough to get one) the way he treated my daughter and i think basic manner instructions and examples are required for him to start an improvement.’

your arms draped over kuroos shoulders as he gunned finishing his email.

‘my daughter will move on quickly from this, i have no doubt in that, but teach your son what it means to be a responsible man and reshape the strange looking piece of clay of a child you’ve moulded him into. there’s still hope (if you’re optimistic). overall, i’m rating your child 2/5 stars. he was reliable but that’s the only good thing he had going for him. take my constructive criticism and work on improvements for the future! yours sincerely, kuroo tetsurō’

with a slighter harder press on the final letter of the email, kuroo clicked a few options on the email and wasted no time in hitting the ‘send’ button before exhaling.

“that was... something.” you muttered as kuroo turned to face you on the office chair.

he laughed softly before pulling you onto his lap and leaning in. his hot breath ticking the back of your neck as he spoke.

“i think this is going to shake them more than a visit to their house won’t it? i’m sure an email is the last thing they’re expecting.”

you leaned back into his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist as he pressed soft kisses to the back of your neck.

“i hope one day, she finds someone who’ll love her the way you love me.” you sighed, eyes fluttering shut.

“i know she will, she has your good looks and my sharp wit, i don’t have a single doubt she’ll find someone as good as her over time.” kuroo murmered his kisses ceasing for a moment.

the two of you sat there in contentment for just a moment before you pulled yourself from his grip and stood before him offering your hand.

“boys can wait, the only boy she needs in her life right now is sat right before me and i think she needs him to come and comfort her with me for now.” you softly smiled as kuroo smirked.

“so, i finally get an invitation to mother and daughter time?” he leaned further back in his chair, sharp features only more defining.

“looks like it.” you confirmed as kuroo reached for your hand.

“then, i gladly accept.” his calloused hand took in your own as you tugged him off the dark leather office chair.

you and kuroo had no doubt your daughter would pick herself up on her own over time. that didn’t mean you wouldn’t slyly defend her behind the scenes though because while kuroo loved the idea of his daughter staying his little girl forever, he knew better than to tug at her independence.

nevertheless, your little girl or not, yourself and kuroo would go to all ends to make her happy and if that meant to send a petty email, the so be it. yourself and kuroo would gladly sit at your screens for hours and type up as many needed if it meant to make your daughter happy.

there wasn’t really anything kuroo wouldn’t do for his family and you loved that about him. always taking the higher ground and solving issues in sometimes questionable but logical ways was kuroos method at tackling things. youd question his motives but he’d always come through in the other end. perhaps you’d have to trust your husband from the start of these situations a little more in the future.

dt - @aislastetsu

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[pedros-mustache]

mr. grinch

summary: javi was never going to be the all-out-for-the-holidays type, was he?

word count: 2.7k

warnings: borderline soft!javi (the heart wants what the heart wants), specifically related to the christmas holiday, a disgusting amount of fluff, x fem!reader

a/n: wrote a post about this concept and decided that wasn’t enough. my forte is angst and pining, not fluff, so forgive me if this is trash.

also: this will be repeated in the future, i’m sure, but if you have at all interacted with/commented on/reblogged/liked any of my previous fics thank! you! i would reply to each and every comment however that would require exposing my main (as this is a side-blog) and that’s not gonna happen. please know that i see and feel your love! xoxo! 

you long for the day after thanksgiving more than thanksgiving itself. 

sure, you enjoy the november holiday; it’s not like you hate it. especially since getting married, since having kids, you find thanksgiving means a little more to you now than it did prior to adulthood.

you enjoy packing the kids up and traveling across town to your mother’s house for thanksgiving breakfast and then packing the kids up again and going to javi’s father’s house for thanksgiving dinner. you enjoy sitting beside your husband, your hand on his thigh, as you watch your children play with their cousins or be passed around by distant aunts and uncles. you enjoy knowing that you’re safe, that javi’s safe, that the babies are safe. you enjoy knowing that you’re loved.

really, thanksgiving is nice, a good reminder of all that you have to be thankful for. but it’s just that: nice.

the day after thanksgiving, though... that’s when the real fun begins.

since childhood, your family has waited to decorate for christmas until the day after thanksgiving, and you’ve brought the tradition to your new household. javi tells you that your excitement for christmas overshadows thanksgiving, and maybe it does, but you really don’t care. not when christmas is ten times more cozy and festive than thanksgiving could ever dream of being. 

this year, you rise early on the appointed day and wake javi with a firm shake to the shoulder. he groans, rolls over to his stomach, and slips his head beneath a pillow.

“too early,” he mutters.

you exit the ensuite bathroom, rubbing your lotioned palms together as you prepare for a long day of unwrapping dusty boxes and fragile decorations. with a grin, you tap javi’s foot beneath the bedcovers. “get up before i sic the kids on you.”

he mumbles something under his breath, but the weight of the pillow muffles his words, so you leave him to his sulking. he’s never been a morning person, not in all the years you’ve known him. in a few minutes he’ll be up; you just have to give him time.

you find your son, tomás, awake and raring to go. six and a half years old and responsible as ever, it is his greatest joy in life to make his father proud. and though javier is a man of few emotional words, there’s a soft spot in his heart for both his children. today marks the first year tomás is old enough and capable enough to help his father with the outdoor decorations, and he’s already halfway dressed, his small feet shoved in tiny boots and his unruly hair snug beneath a baseball cap.

leaning against the doorframe, you watch as tomás struggles to get his arms through the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “you’re up bright and early,” you say, arching an eyebrow.

“wanna”—he bites his lip in concentration—“wanna help daddy today.” he drops his head with a heavy sigh. one elbow in particular remains stuck in the sleeve of his shirt, caught at a ninety degree angle.

you cross the bedroom to kneel in front of him and gently tug on his shirtsleeve. the arm once stuck at an uncomfortable angle flops to his side, and you smooth your hands over his narrow shoulders. “i’m sure you’ll be a big help, tommy. you just have to promise to do as daddy says.”

“yeah, i promise.”

with a squeeze to his arm, you cock your head to the open bedroom door. “go run downstairs and pour yourself some cereal while i get your sister up. daddy will be down soon.”

boots heavy around his ankles, tomás dutifully makes his way to the kitchen, his steps slow as he descends the steep stairs. his shoes clomp on the hardwood, and you hesitate, waiting to hear the cabinet doors open and shut, before moving to wake your daughter. you know by now that, though tomás thinks himself a fully grown boy, his legs often move faster than his brain, and you’ve had one too many tumbles down the staircase to show for it. the last thing you need today is a split forehead or bonked chin. 

like her brother, julieta is awake when you enter her dimly lit nursery. she gives you a gummy smile when you reach down to lift her from the small mattress, and she gurgles happily as you change her diaper and dress her for the day. her arms flap against her sides in joy as you enter your bedroom and place her on your bed. with practiced effort, julieta crawls her way up the bed and presses her tiny fists against javi’s shoulders. 

“come on, javier,” you say, pulling the covers away from your husband’s body. he groans in response, head still tucked beneath his pillow. “tommy’s already downstairs waiting for you.”

with a huff, javi turns to his back, drawing julieta with him, one broad hand splayed across her entire back. “getting up this early the day after thanksgiving is cruel and unusual punishment.”

“no—you’re just dramatic.”

“i think i ate too much pie yesterday.” he sits up with a frown. “i’m gonna have a beer gut like my uncle before you know it.”

“maybe, but i reckon you’ll still look cute.” you grab his wrist and tug him out of bed. he keeps julieta firm against his chest as he moves. “you know i don’t like to waste time, so please move that cute ass of yours downstairs. it’s past eight-thirty already.”

javi tosses a surprised look over his shoulder as you shove him out of the room, plaid pajama pants and all. “you think i have a cute ass?”

“shut up,” you grumble. 

tomás sits at the kitchen table, bowl of cereal on his plastic placemat. he grins when javi enters the room, and a line of milk dribbles down his chin, which you are quick to wipe away with a stray napkin.

“hi, daddy.” rising to his knees, tomás swivels in his seat and braces his hands on the back of the chair. he watches as javi deposits julieta in her high-chair then sets about making his morning pot of coffee. “we’re gonna put the lights up outside today?”

without turning away from the coffee maker, javi nods. “yeah, champ. but, you know, i was thinking.” his eyes slide to yours as he shuts the coffee maker’s lid and flips the on button. “what if we did something... different this year?”

you still. julieta makes grabby fingers for the half of the banana that still hasn’t been sliced for her, and she kicks her legs against the high-chair. “different?” you narrow your eyes. “different how?”

“oh, i dunno.” javi leans back against the stove and crosses his arms over his chest. he has all the air of nonchalance, but you know this is a calculated attack. if you know anything about your husband, it’s that once he gets an idea in his head, he’ll work his way forwards and backwards to bring it to fruition. “just different.”

“so no lights?”

javi shakes his head in reassurance for both you and your son. “no, tommy, we’ll still have lights. just different lights.” for the crescendo of his argument, javi crosses the kitchen and crouches beside your chair. he squeezes your thigh, his brown eyes soft and pleading. “come on, mi vida, let’s spice it up a little bit. i’ve got it all worked out, so you don’t have to worry about anything.”

you toss your head back on a laugh. “oh, i’m sure i won’t!”

“trust me, baby,” he whispers, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, and, for a moment, focusing more on the patterns of your face than his end goal. 

you feel your resolve soften. how can it not? javi is decidedly undomestic, even with a wife and two kids. oh, he loves you; he adores his children. but it’s been a long time coming to get to this moment—him on his knees with his own holiday decoration plans. you’d be a fool to turn him down.

you shut your eyes and give him a nod. “okay, fine. i trust you.”

javi pops to his feet with a loud clap and equally as loud, “alright!” he points to tomás. “finish your cereal, kid, ‘cause we got work to do.” 

dropping a kiss to the top of your head, he makes for the stairs. his socked feet slide on the linoleum, which causes to tomás to laugh in amusement, but you’re too stunned by javi’s sudden change of mood that you can’t help but feel like you’ve been duped. 

spice up christmas decorations? you can only pray that whatever he has in store won’t get you a stern letter from the homeowner’s association. 

***

before beginning his mysterious outdoor decorating project, javi pulls all the boxes labeled christmas down from the attic. he helps you assemble the artificial tree in the corner of the living room, and he, though with a good measure of grumbling, adjusts and readjusts the garland draping the front door. 

but as soon as you give him the go ahead, he pushes you inside, makes you promise not to peek until he’s finished, and, like schoolboys up to no good, hurries away with tomás.

as the door slams in your face, effectively cutting you out of the fun, you glance at your daughter and roll your eyes. “men,” you say, and she coos in agreement.

it’s easy to get lost in your work for the remainder of the afternoon. there’s tens of ornaments to put on the tree and the little village to set up along the front windowsill. julieta follows as you move throughout the house. she crawls, or scoots on her bum, or rolls behind in her baby walker. she’s primarily a happy baby, and after tomás and his terrible twos, you’re thankful for a reprieve from the incessant crying and surly attitude. 

christmas tune after christmas tune drifts from the record player in the foyer, and you bump along to the music, finding the work of unpacking boxes and artfully arranging decorations is not so much work with a good playlist and a giggly baby on your hip.

after pausing for lunch, you resume with the finishing touches. the house looks cozy, you have to admit. the tree sparkles in its corner, and the quaint ceramic village display on the windowsill reminds you spending the holidays with your grandmother as a child. there’s miniature, stuffed snowmen in the kitchen that tomás made in school and papier-mâché carolers that javi’s aunt crafted in the hall. an advent calendar hangs from the back of the closet door, and a spring of faux mistletoe dangles over the dining room doorway.

you’re proud of your work, but more than that, you’re proud of the life you’ve made alongside your husband. when he’d proposed all those years ago (a dreadfully unromantic proposal of a ring simply slid across the table at a restaurant), he’d promised life with him wouldn’t be easy. he hadn’t been lying. still, you’ve made it this far, and you wouldn’t go back on your vows for the world.

it does surprise you that you haven’t heard a peep out of the boys for most of the day. tomás hasn’t so much as run inside to use the bathroom or grab a drink of water. either javi’s spicy christmas decorations were more labor-intensive than he’d originally planned, or he’d jaunted off to his father’s house to escape the responsibility, taking tomás with him. you can’t decide which possibility you’d prefer.

before you can pick up the phone to call your father-in-law, the garage door opens. javi sticks his head into the hallway, a wide grin on his face when he sees you.

“okay, we’re ready.”

you put a hand on your hip. “are you sure?”

“yeah, i’m sure.” he steps inside long enough to lift julieta from her place in the bouncy walker. he sets her on his shoulders, and she squeals as she grabs fistfuls of his hair. “i thought you trusted me?”

you place the phone on the receiver and grab your jacket. “don’t throw my words back at me, javier.”

he taps your ass when you brush past him into the garage. “you’ll love it,” he says. “but you have to close your eyes.”

“really? just how different are these decorations?”

“oh, it’s like nothin’ you’ve seen before, hermosa. now shut your eyes!” with an exaggerated sigh, you close your eyes. javi squeezes your shoulder, and you start to walk forward into the driveway. “tomás, keep a watch on your mother. make sure she doesn’t peek.”

javi maneuvers you until you feel the driveway beneath your feet give way to soft grass. he places julieta in your arms then squeezes both of your shoulders. you can feel the excitement in his fingers, feel it in the way he practically bounces with anticipation behind you. you have entirely no idea of what to expect, but if putting up christmas decorations has made javi this excited, no matter what the decor is, you’ll let him do it every year.

“ready, tommy?”

“ready!”

javi presses a kiss to the side of your neck, his arm winding around your stomach to pull you back against his chest. he is firm behind you, the solid foundation on which your family stands. “ready, mi vida?” his voice is low, and even after all this time, it still sends a shiver down your spine.

in lieu of answering aloud, you simply nod.

“okay. tomás, in three... two... one.” he squeezes your hip. “open your eyes.”

the air in your chest leaves in a giant whoosh as you take in his decorations.

“oh my god, javier,” is all you can say as you stare in dumb-founded shock.

javier laughs—a real, hearty laugh—as he watches your face. “isn’t it great?!”

it—it being a wooden cutout painted to look like dr. seuss’s the grinch.

it being that cutout pulling down a strand of illuminated colored lights from the gutter. 

it being the most half-hearted christmas decorations you’ve ever seen. 

“where on earth did you get that?”

“eddie from two streets away. i saw it in his yard and knew i had to have one, so he got another from his guy and gave it to me.” he shakes his head as he looks on in pride. “best forty bucks i ever spent. it’s been in the back of my truck for weeks!” 

“you are so lucky that i love you, javier.”

he laughs again, squeezing you tighter against his chest. “hey! i put lights on the bushes for you. that’s gotta count for something?”

dropping your head against his shoulder, you nod. “it does. and the more i look at the grinch, the funnier it is.” you hold up a finger. “but i’m not laughing yet.” 

you glance at your neighbor’s house, at the cookie-cuter lights lining the frame of their two-story, at the mechanical reindeer bobbing their heads up and down. you look back at your... grinch, at his twisted smile and tip-toed stance and the sad string of lights wound from his hand to the gutter. you snort in amusement.

“i’ve got to hand it to you—this is the most javier peña thing you’ve ever done. i’m almost proud.”

“i knew you’d love it.”

turning in his arms, you shake your head. “no, i just love you.” 

javi smiles and lowers his head to kiss you softly. it’s his way of returning the sentiment, and you preen under his affection.

but then you pull away with a frown. “wait a minute.” laying a finger against his chest, you tilt your head toward tomás. “where have you been all day? this set-up couldn’t have taken more than half an hour.”

javi cringes and glances at his son. he rubs a hand across the back of his beck. “yeah, about that...”

tomás appears from his place plugging in the outdoor extension chords. “daddy took me to the shooting range!”

gaping, you sputter to form a coherent sentence. “you what?!”

“tomás,” javi whispers, swiping his palm over his son’s hair. “you weren’t supposed to say anything.” he looks up through his lashes with a wry smile. “we did—yeah, we did go to the range for a bit.”

“oh, javier peña, you are so lucky i love you.”

javi grins, captures your chin between his fingers, and kisses you again. “yeah, i am.”

***

taglist: @insideafictionaluniverse​ @ladytrashbird​ @generaldamneron​

[aerialflight]

Fic Recs (cause it's always nice to give a shout out and get people into things I'm into rn)

[The Magnus Archives] (I recently finished the podcast and I fell into a hole for a while so here you go)

Sing a Song of Sixpence by Kaiel

Ship: Jon/Martin

In which Jonathan Sims is a Siren, and he fails to notice any new abilities granted to him by the position of Archivist. Or really anything about the Entities at all.

Takes place in season 1 featuring Jonah Magnus’s slow decent into madness

(The new mythology interwoven with tma's worldbuilding is so freaking good and I love how all the characters change and develop because of these changes. Also, f you Elias)

Along Came a Spider by Dribbledscribbles

Ship: implied Jon/Martin

Sasha James is the Archivist, as expected. Martin Blackwood is menaced by Jane Prentiss, as expected. Elias Bouchard weaves his web, as expected.

All goes as it should.

At least until something calling itself Jonathan Sims steps in.

(Web!Jon in this makes me want to weep, it's so freaking good. A pretty long, very excellent oneshot on what could've happened if Jon got taken by the web when he was a kid. And Sasha as the Archivist is ALWAYS so cool, we love her in this house.)

A Break in the Clouds by Ash_Rabbit

“I’m eight.” the kid sniffs as if eight was any different from four, maybe not an unspeakable horror then, just a regular horror. “And I heard that the Magnus Institute deals with-” his little nose scrunches, cute. “-spooky things.”

“Do you have a-” he cracks a grin, and then rethinks it as small hands tighten against their burden.”-spooky thing to deliver?” gods he hopes not, it’s bad enough when adults walk in and lay out all of their baggage, but for a child-

“There’s a spider in this book.” the kid says solemnly, raising his textbook sized parcel. “It ate Evan Pritchard.” a bloody fucking Leitner. Of course an eight year old would find a murder spider book. “This seemed like the best place to bring it.”

(I never thought about what the Original Elias could've been like AND NOW I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT BECAUSE OF THIS FIC. I LOVE HIM, HE'S COMPLEX AND HE CARES AND JON CARES AND THEY BOTH CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER. THIS IS THE CONTENT I WANT, OMG. Also, Jon being even smaller than usual is adorable, so cute. No wonder Elias wants to hug him, a LOT.)

See the Line where the Sky meets the Sea by The_Floating_World

Ship: Jon/Martin, Jon/Oliver Banks

When Jon is a child he looks into the infinite abyss of space. The Vast looks back into him.

(One of my all time fave fics in this fandom, no questions asked. I have reread this three times and am open to doing it again, god. Vast!Jon, such a concept. It's written so beautifully and the relationships Jon develops, so good. ugh. My heart. Please please read.)

Sweet As Roses by Prim_the_Amazing

Ship: Jon/Martin

“Come in, Martin,” he says, not looking up from his notes.

“Hi, Jon,” he says, and Jon stops writing at the sound of his voice. “We’re out of the green tea, but we’ve got lemon?”

Jon looks at him. Martin smiles at him in his usual tentative way as he sets the mug of tea down on Jon’s desk. Heat spikes so sharply in his gut that he twitches with it.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says, mouth dry, and he stands up.

“Oh,” he says, sounding almost surprised. He smiles again. “No-- no problem-- um, what are you--”

Jon takes Martin by the shoulders, leans up on the tips of his toes, and kisses him.

(You have no idea how much I howled through this fic, my god. *buries face in hands* The number of times I wanted to cry from sheer hilarity and horror reading this good lord.)

Things Could Always Be Worse by theOestofOCs

Ship: Jon/Martin, Georgie/Melanie

Sometimes, the most horrifying thing of all is what might have been.

Somewhere, Jon could swear he heard a crowd laughing.

Or: in which Jonathan Sims is forced to swap places with his alternate self—a tall, chivalrous hero extraordinaire, who knows neither fear nor nuance—and is sent to the aggressively straight alternate universe the Magnus Archives was never meant to be.

“Whatever place this is,” Jon announced, “I just want to be sure it knows I hate it.”

(I will say this once, THIS IS THE MOST CURSED THING IVE EVER READ EVER. Like holy hell. I can't believe this thing exists. please read it oh please please please)

-

[Supernatural]

heard from your mother (she don't recognize you) by Schmuzz

Ship: Dean/Cas, Jessica/Sam

A man named Cas wakes up in 2003 with no memories, but he's able to piece together a few things:

1. Supernatural creatures exist, and most of them will hurt innocent civilians if he doesn't stop them; 2. He has abilities that no human hunter should have, but he knows enough about human hunters to keep that to himself, and finally; 3. He keeps running into another hunter named Dean Winchester, who seems to be about as lonely as he is if he's willing to put up with those former facts long enough to help Cas unravel the mystery of who (or what) he really is.

For his part, Dean's still (not) dealing with Sam's departure to Stanford, and figures distracting himself with a bit of mystery and intrigue is as harmless as it gets, right? Right.

(THE fic I'm most into right now, been following this from the very start and it's AMAZING. Cas has agency and is making friends and S1 Dean is growing out of John's influence and is becoming a Person and the both of them first being friends then more. The slow burn as their relationship develops, SO GOOD. SO SO DAMN GOOD. *screams* Seriously one of the best spn fics I've read in a long, long time.)

anamnesis by cenotaphy

Ships: Castiel/Dean, Sam/Eileen

Chuck is depowered, Jack is the new god, and the world is free. Dean and Sam get into the Impala and chase down the miles on an endless highway, and their story is finally, finally their own to follow. At least, that's what Dean tells himself. But the diners and motels and painted interstate lines are blurring together and the smallest details keep catching at his brain like tiny fishhooks and he can't quite shake the feeling that not everything is exactly as it should be.

* Fix-it/alternate series finale. Canon-compliant through the end of 15.19.

(THIS IS THE FIC THAT GOT ME THROUGH THE FINALE OKAY. WHY COULDN'T THIS HAVE BEEN CANON. It's Disturbing and honestly plot-wise this makes more sense. Why couldn't we have had this. *screams*)

-

[Avatar: The Last Airbender]

where the stars do not take sides by WitchofEndor

Ship: Sokka/Zuko

When Azula is nine, she becomes an only child. She hears the Fire Lord call for Zuko's life, and in the morning, her mother and brother are gone. Azula may be young, but she isn't naive. She knows what happened to them.

Which makes it all the more surprising when Azula tracks the Avatar down and fights his group of peasant friends, only to find herself staring into an eerily familiar face.

(The fact one of the tags in this fic is, "Sibling Dynamic: Fucked Up But Wholesome" should give you an idea what this fic is like. Chaotic as HELL and I just love Azula here, she loves Zuko so much in her messed up way and Zuko loves her back in the exact same way lol. It's batshit and I am Here For This.)

-

[Naruto]

Eclipse by AislingRoisin (JayBird345) for HybrisAnaideia

Ship: Nara Shikaku/OFC

"In life, it's easier to remain stagnant and wallow in your troubles. But life isn't merely about continued existence, nor is it meant to be gone through alone."

(This is a fic that's slept on and I NEED people to read this. A self-insert fic that I find really interesting in its approach and the worldbuilding for the post-third war shinobi world is fantastic. I feel like there's a certain pattern with self-insert fics, not that is a detriment in any way to how much I enjoy them, so this fic feels fresh to me in a way I haven't read in a while. I am waiting eagerly for this to get updated! Please read!)

On Freedom and Other Formalities by iaso

Ship: Kakashi/Genma/OFC

When push comes to shove, Hiwa Inuzuka doesn't go down easy. Reborn into a new, dangerous world? She puts her past life as a spy to work. Thrown into a war? Hiwa does her duty, for Konoha. And when she's forced into an arranged marriage? All there is to do is beat them to the punch and get married first. Thankfully, Genma Shiranui is willing to lend a hand. Literally. SI/OC

(Listen, LISTEN, it's about the slow burn, the longing, the communication (it both has and hasn't and isn't THAT great??), the messy way you fit three very different people together, it's so freaking good! Also, Kakashi is so Chaotic here this is my fave characterization of him, you can't change my mind. And Genma is a Good Boi who is Doing His Best, along with the Self-insert character who I LOVE SO MUCH, SHE'S FANTASTIC FNEIWOPAF. Sped past this fic in the speed of light, I could not stop reading!)(Honestly, read all of the author's fics, they're all really REALLY good!)

Building a Castle by WhisperingDarkness

Without needing anyone to tell her, Sakura knew that talking to someone no-one else could see or hear would make her weird. It would draw the bad kind of attention to her, something people could make fun of her for.

She didn’t like being weird, but she did like the voice. Her inner voice was helpful and it was a part of her that had always been there. The idea of it not being there would have been so much weirder than anything else.

It was during her first year at the Academy that Sakura realised the voice was not in her head at all, but that it came from a cloudy shape floating next to her.

(Basically a short-ish retelling of Hikaru no Go. Only with more Shogi and Nara and Ninja's)

(Sakura can see ghosts (I'm noticing this is a popular trope for her) and it's really cute haha! Her relationship with Tobirama is sweet and I just enjoyed reading this so much.)

-

[The Magicians]

So Long (And Thanks For All The Books) by IncompleteSentanc (Erava)

Ships: Quentin/Eliot, James/Julia, Quentin/Margo/Eliot

When Quentin is told Julia wasn't admitted to Brakebills, he realizes he has a drastic decision in front of him. If he tells Julia about magic, he'll have his mind wiped as well as hers. But he can't just leave her behind, either. He can't lose his best friend, and he can't let her life a life with her magical potential stolen away from her.

So he makes a third choice.

(Really, and I mean REALLY well-done canon divergent fic, this is the Quentin & Julia friendship fic I have been looking for forever. It explores so much of what could've happened and I just love Quentin here, I really really do. Characterization done so right. I also recommend the author's other works too. Been a follower of them for a long time, they're great.)

-

[Game of Thrones]

The Road to Victory by writing_as_tracey

Too late in preparing for the Night King and the Long Night, the last stand at Winterfell is close to falling. Bran takes desperate measures to ensure victory, and Jon, Sansa, and Arya pay the price for it in a time unfamiliar to them, on the cusp of another war. [GoT, time-travel fix it]

(I swear, this fic made me laugh so many times, all the Stark are BAMF and fantastic, and Rhaegar gets Wrecked lol. It's crack btw, and the plot goes in directions you'll never guess and it's amazing hahaha!)

-

[Haikyuu!!] (I am very very late to the fandom but here I am)

Ballare (To Dance) by MidnightSparks

Ship: Iwaizumi Hajime/Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, and platonic Kageyama & Kentarou (really love their friendship)

Kageyama’s first love is volleyball. His second, however, is ballet.

In one world, Kageyama Tobio is left behind by his parents. In this world, the existence of soulbonds keeps Kageyama’s parents in Miyagi and leaves Kageyama in the care of his grandma and grandpa.

(In which soulmates exist and that changes everything and nothing at the same time.)

(*buries face in hands* I have fallen for this ship so hard and I can't get out fudge me. I understand now. Their DYNAMICS FIEWONPAF)

Kings of Tomorrow by bokubroya (liarielle)

Ship: Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru

On the eve of Tobio’s 16th birthday, he counts down the seconds to midnight, and emerges with Oikawa Tooru’s name on his wrist.

It’s been two years since then, and Tobio thought they had an understanding. A silent, never spoken about understanding that this thing between them is nothing, and they’re going to pretend it doesn’t exist.

Of course, it’s just like Oikawa to change the game and leave Tobio wondering what comes next.

(I am WEAK for soulmate fics between these two, I don't even really like soulmate fics half the times what is WRONG WITH ME-)(Please suffer with me, I'm begging you. Its a good fic, thumbs up.)

-

[Crossover]

Honey and Magic by JustARatherVerySillyWriter, White_Squirrel for Super Carlin Brothers

Fandoms: Matilda (yeah you read that right), Harry Potter

Everyone knew Matilda was a rather extraordinary child, but even she didn't know she was a witch. Matilda Honey receives her Hogwarts letter in the year of the Triwizard Tournament, and soon, she will leave her unique mark on the magical world.

(Do I even need to explain how amazing it is to have Matilda in the wizarding world? And Matilda is a HUFFLEPUFF AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL THIS FIC IS GREAT PLEASE READ!!!)

An Eye for an Eye by DpsMercy

Fandoms: The Magnus Archives, Welcome to Night Vale

In which Jonathan Sims is not from the UK but instead, if you took his origins and turned them sideways twice then flipped them over, he technically would be from the US, the town of Night Vale specifically. Elias can’t do shit about it and gets a headache and slowly creeping madness instead.

(Look, I know probably everyone has read this because if they haven't, what have you been DOING with your lives??? Jon interning at Night Vale is Incredible, nothing phases this man, it's Delightful. I laughed so many times reading this, I'm not even kidding right now. Read or perish.)

The Favour by R_Cookie

Fandoms: Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Ship: Original Percival Graves/Harry Potter

Percival is ten years old when his grandfather tries to tell him that he's ensured the greatness of the Graves legacy for him, that he ought to be eternally grateful - but the explanation is hijacked by a stranger who manages to intimidate Chester Graves with an ease never seen before.

or: Hadrian (Harry) Potter is the Master of Death, who grants Graves a boon. Nobody could have known that the Deathly Hallows didn't turn you so much into the 'Master of Death' as into the anthropomorphic personification of Death. And so, Death becomes Percival's guardian angel, and Percival does not spit out his cereal.

(Look, I don't know how I stumbled back into the FBAWTFT fandom either, it just happened and I'm grateful for that. Otherwise, I wouldn't have found this amazing fic. Their relationship is slow and strange and I just love how Percival is characterized here. Also, one of the tag promises that it deviates from canon so I am really, really excited for that! XD)

baby that's what i do by natanije

Fandoms: Naruto, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!

"Are you telling me," Hidan exclaims, incredulous, "that you collect money all this time to give to orphans?!"

Kakuzu pauses. He blinks a few times.

"Huh. I guess I do."

(Tsuna reincarnates as Kakuzu and it's HILARIOUS. HE'S SUCH A MOM HAHAHA)