#it will literally not save as a fucking draft properly and it's the second time tumblr ate this so i'm just gonna post it

[qiaowanmian]

[INTERNATIONAL GIVEAWAY] MLC Xiaobao and Hulijing holographic sticker

Hello everyone!! In celebration of one year of Mysterious Lotus Casebook, I am giving away a holographic Fang Duobing and Hulijing sticker designed by me! (It is very, very shiny irl!!!)

To enter this giveaway, reblog this post and reply with your favourite MLC side character.

Likes and follows are highly appreciated but not required for entry, though for every 15 notes on this post I will add one winner! For example over 15 notes = 1 winner, over 30 notes = 2 winners etc.

The giveaway closes on 2nd August (Friday) at 11:59PM GMT+8. The winner will be selected randomly and announced by the end of the week! (I'm willing to ship anywhere internationally so long as it's covered by our post office.)

P.S. if you miss this giveaway, don't worry — the sticker will be available for sale on my online store when it launches later in August.

[arachniee]

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ “I’m Their Cure!”

༘✿ Synopsis: Unfortunately, you’ve fallen ill. You didn't tell your lover as you didn’t want to be a burden, so you decided to just let your friend take care of you. And trust me, your boyfriend was NOT having it.

༘✿ Notes: this has been in my drafts long before i created my other series. I needed to get the dust off this and post it lol. This is just purely chaotic fluff that may or may not have grammatical errors. Characters; Lucifer, Vox, and Adam.

‧₊˚✩彡 Lucifer M.

Let’s be honest, this man would have NO idea until you’re coughing up your lungs. It’s either he’s really fucking dense, or you’re just that good with hiding your sickness. He’d literally think that everything was normal until the day he didn’t see you at the hotel at all.

He’s asking everyone his eyes land on, asking them if they knew where you were. Most would just shrug and say no (lies), but just as when he was about to lose hope, his daughter saved the day by telling him.

You were at your friend's apartment?? Why?? That was genuinely the first thing that came to his mind. As he knocked on the (hopefully) right apartment door, he was conflicted when he saw a man with just a t-shirt on with a wet towel in his hands.

His mind went in all directions except the right one. His mind filled up with (horrifying) negative thoughts as he stuttered and asked if you were inside. And when the man in front of him said yes, he was instantly red.

He literally started attacking your poor friend with his much smaller frame, accusing him of doing things to you. The commotion was so loud that you heard the cat fight from your room, thus urging you to sluggishly make your way to them.

You immediately pulled Lucifer away from your friend, who surprisingly didn't have much scratches, as the little man in your hold visibly brightened upon seeing you. But his gaze soured just as quick as he glanced back at your friend.

“Leave.” He’d order, still fuming (adorably). “But this is my apartme–” And in the end, you managed to convince your friend to leave for a few hours. Apologizing to him as you tried to calm your lover down.

After the whole fiasco has died down, it was your turn to glare at Lucifer, who in return, chuckled nervously. Though, he'd try to defend himself, saying things like “who knows what he could have done to you if I didn't arrive on time?”

Once you explain everything to him, that feeling of uneasiness turns into guilt. He feels stupid. First, he didn't know that you were sick, second, he was so stupid that he wasn't able to take care of you properly (even though you didn't want him to know).

Despite your sickness, he's clinging onto you, mumbling sorry’s. He doesn't care if he gets sick in the process, he WILL take care of you now. You will go back to the hotel and stay in bed. You will not lift a single finger at all. You will be treated like royalty (which you practically are, at this point) and he’d be doing all the work for you.

Hungry? He's got a snickers. Thirsty? Here, have some apple juice. Having trouble sleeping? He's literally right beside you on your bed, snuggling close.

In the end, after you got better, it was his turn to get sick. And he's expecting you to reciprocate what he did when you were sick! (He just wants to be pampered and babied by you.)

‧₊˚✩彡 Vox.

Look, he’s a busy man. So hiding the fact that you were sick would be a piece of cake since you don’t meet that often, even if he desperately wanted to. But he does notice once you finally spend time together after a few days. He watched as you coughed and struggled to do things you’d usually do with ease.

He’d be very concerned about your wellbeing, despite not wanting to admit it, at least not so soon. Since he always has to be somewhere doing something, he’d get his most trusted employee to bring you stuff. Flowers to make you feel better? Right at your doorstep. A new, comfier blanket? Already on your bed, neatly folded. And of course, he never forgets the medicine.

He thought that sending gifts and stuff was enough for you (it was), but he was (not) wrong. At least that’s what he first thought during his visit when he finally had time. His eye twitched in irritation as he watched one of your ‘friends’ help you eat the soup, their hands carefully bringing the spoon to your lips.

He’d cough comically loud to try and get your attention. Come on, he’s literally standing in your doorway and yet you’re pretending as if it’s only you and your friend in the room. Once you finally notice his presence, you’d thank your friend before asking Vox why he was visiting you since you knew he was busy.

He refused to speak on that matter until your ‘friend’ left. Your friend understood (thankfully, Vox thought) and left, telling you to call them if you ever needed anything. Your lover would mock your friend behind their back by saying “ ‘cAlL mE iF yOu nEeD AnYthiNg’, bitch, who do they think they are? I can take better care of you by myself than they ever could.”

He’d instantly ask you tons of questions, why didn’t you tell him you were sick? Oh, you didn’t want to be a burden? Bullshit. He is not accepting that lame excuse. Unconsciously, he’d be pouting, and of course, it isn’t a matter of time until he throws a tantrum.

It took almost exactly 2 minutes before Vox was making a scene, dramatically conveying his hurt that you preferred some other bitch’s care than his. Isn’t he enough for you? He’d be making comments about how your sickness might have affected your brain and your taste. Not just in food, but in people.

What? You prefer some cheap fucker’s company during the time you’re vulnerable more than his? No, we are not going to talk about how he’s busy most of the time. And we are also not going to talk about how he literally threw a tantrum just to visit you.

He’d still be pretty cranky about everything, it’ll take quite the effort for him to consider forgiving you. No, kisses, hugs, and all of your attention when you’re better isn’t enough. He wants, no, he needs everything you have to and can offer.

‧₊˚✩彡 Adam.

At first, he doesn’t catch on that you’ve been more sluggish lately. He would complain about how you might not be doing your job properly, though it’s just a facade of his growing concern. But when you brush him off, saying that it’s nothing, then he’d reluctantly disregard the topic.

Once he finally realizes that you didn’t go to work (where he visits you quite often, well, more like everyday), he’d ask almost everyone that he encounters. Lute (who is tired of his bullshit)? Emily? Sera? Everyone will be questioned about you.

When someone finally gives in to his pestering and tells him that you were resting in your home, he’s sprinting there faster than the speed of light. He’d literally be banging on the door, screaming at the top of his lungs for you to let him in.

You’d groan and cover your ears with a pillow as your beautiful friend, Molly, laughed beside you. She sat upright as you tossed around trying to drown out Adam’s yelling. After realizing that he wasn’t leaving or stopping any time soon, Molly eventually asked if you really didn’t want her to open the door. You’d groan even louder, to which she’d chuckle at.

She was so sweet, cooking for you and making sure you drank your medicine. As she grabbed the empty bowl on the coffee table, she smiled as you finally gave her the green light to open the door for Adam.

She always found the two of you cute, the most adorable couple ever! And as soon as she opened the door, Adam zoomed past her, ignoring her presence completely. Once you finally come into his sight, he’d be scolding you about not telling him that you were sick, did you honestly think he wouldn’t be able to help? Don’t underestimate him, damnit!

He’d only ever acknowledge Molly’s presence as soon as she came into the room with medicine in her hands. To say that he’d be pissed was an understatement. He was (cutely) fuming, not only did you not tell him FIRST, but you also have someone else taking care of you?

Jealousy brewed more in the pit of his stomach as he watched you thank Molly and drink the medicine with a smile. Psshh, she just gave you pills! What’s so special about that? If you wanted medicine, you could’ve just fucking asked him and he would’ve given you a whole dozen of boxes!

The whole time Molly was there with the two of you, he’d literally comment (complain) on everything she does, whether it was to help you or not, her every action will be judged by him.

Though he still tries to help, asking you if you want a drink or a snack, making sure you’re not uncomfortable and other stuff. Don’t get him wrong, he’s still pretty fuzzy about everything. And he’d make his feelings known after your friend has (finally) left.

He’d immediately bombard you with questions that you would rather not answer. He’s being a dick, yes, but that’s because you acted like one first! Why would you not wanna tell him? He’s your lover! Do you not love him anymore?

You’d need to make it up to him because explaining that you just didn’t want to be a burden to him is not enough of an explanation, apparently. He’d make you promise that you’d give him ALL of your attention and time next time, and by ‘next time’, he meant when you’re not sick. Because he ain’t coming any closer than 5 meters with you. Get better first!

[tonydaddingham]

ok it's not actually as epic✨ as i thought it would be but here is my episode-title prediction but it's very rough and in note form and no doubt is all over the place and pls feel free to discuss in the replies and ill amend accordingly,,, PLUS i need to go through it again in more detail cross referencing my sideburn theory bc some things might actually belong in other episodes and yeah im exhausted from the sheer speed at which i pulled this together fucking enJOY

(note: now contains mention of the leak, proceed w caution)

1. THE ARRIVAL

main storyline summary:

OKAY SO LETS START with this article on mr g's blog - scroll to the last two paragraphs - potentially see pre-fall heaven or the immediate moments before/after the fall which when you consider the opening credits begin with crowley climbing out of the pit/aziraphale descending from heaven, AND the BEAUTIFUL (this isn't being discussed enough imo) fall sequence in the hillywood parody, im tentatively suggesting that we might have a cold open of the fall

✨✨MURIEL PERSPECTIVE ON THE FALL?????✨✨

sosososo in the trailer obvs crowley and muriel are jn heaven and muriel says "you're a demon!!! // im going to get into so much trouble!!!" so WHAT IF DURING THE FALL THEY SMUGGLED CROWLEY OUT OF HEAVEN TO AVOID THE CONFLICT???? and crowley took like the back staircase down so he didn't fall so violently and got to keep his wings and *GUNSHOT* ok so im only like maybe 5% certain it's a flashback after ive rewatched that bit of the trailer oooh maybe 26 times but sTILL imaGINE yeah don't think this anymore, send me an ask if you want to know why bc i cba to write a post explaining

and then presumably a segue? into the first few events ive listed in this post about the start of the second coming idk it might actually be a flashback in another episode hmm yeah actually that seems more likely but anyway

then - present day, gabriel arrives on earth, lost memory/human, "something terrible" in the box that he was meant to deliver to aziraphale (?) that going by that second coming (SC) post i think literally contains jesus

ok update after the gumshoe az pics: so if gabriel is connected to the pub, and by the extension the jukebox, it must be the record that arrives in the box with the address attached, and aziraphale starts looking into it from there????? idk see ep 2

crowley gets evicted, then crowley and shax interaction in the park

presumably an introduction to maggie and nina, plus the "naked man friend" clip

discovery of gabriel at the bookshop, and ensuing argument leading to crowley summoning lightning, and the boys going no contact sob

2. THE CLUE

main storyline summary:

*edit because my draft didn't save properly and ive only just noticed - believe that this ep has the job minisode

SO following the newest pic release of crowley and aziraphale and the record, which ive gone off about here, i think that the skip doesn't quite happen yet BUT aziraphale obvs has the record which i think god has sent him as a clue and then goes to find crowley to talk about it ✨A cLuE✨ but crowley tells him to fuck off

also crowley is a bartender

THEN we have a present-day time skip, gabriel being a very good assistant in the shop

again after the SC theory i think that gabriel lost the box and instead god somehow sends aziraphale the record and address as a clue

aziraphale (unsure of the genesis here) starts researching the jukebox and the everyday song, presumably buys the record from maggie

aziraphale in the bookshop, looking at the jukebox articles, crowley storms in, "im back" see below!!!

THEN second time aziraphale approaches crowley, pub drink ft crowley in jeans and a nice top™ which i think is actually his work top™, then the clip ✨a cLuE✨

crowley and shax in the bentley having a heart to heart, and i worry that she essentially tempts him into luring goob out of the shop so hell can get to him and crowley can get back his precious 😭 peaceful 😭 existence with aziraphale EDIT FOLLOWING THIS!!! I think she definitely tells him to get chummy with aziraphale again

AND NOW we have the "im back" scene

possibly the beelzebub clip from them in hell? possibly an interaction between them and shax? beelzebub manifests as a fly and plays a game of tag in the bookshop with goob, trying to make up for their failure in losing track of jesus

at some point the other angels come to the bookshop to interrogate aziraphale for if he has seen gabriel, believes he's lying, and resolve to send in their ✨top agent✨

3. I KNOW WHERE I’M GOING

main storyline summary:

✨MURIEL MY BELOVED✨

whole "cup of tea" scene, plus crowley removing plants from the bentley "why don't you go by train? you love trains"

possibly muriel feeding back to heaven with her report about aziraphale, his grumpy friend, and his assistant 💓

aziraphale off up to edinburgh in the bentley, possibly crowley has stayed behind to babysit gabriel? (i feel like the 'are you a bookseller too? / not even at gunpoint' interaction was a bit foreshadow-y)

UPDATE: WHY IS GABRIEL CONNECTED TO THE JUKEBOX MYSTERY?? WAS THE RECORD IN FACT IN THE BOX??? AND ITS SOMEHOW LINKED TO HOW GABRIEL LOST HIS MEMORY??? IM SO CONFUSED

still confused but see above SC theory

was the resurrectionist address already taped to the record when it arrived in the box? NOBODY KNOWSSS

UPDATE 2 re: the meme template prime just gave us: so what IF AZIRAPHALE goes to the pub, asks if theyve seen goob, the pub owner (who is in the meme) says "shhhhh I have some intel meet me at the graveyard at 6", aziraphale goes and they show him a pic of gabriel in the pub like removing the everyday record from the jukebox? bc gabriel removed it and that's why the jukebox is now stuck on that song??? AGHHH now I'm wondering if the pub people got a video of the graveyard fight or a pic of the box or something and that gives aziraphale the indication that the whole thing is centred around the second coming

shax possibly knows that crowley is there, and calls the bookshop? or crowley calls heaven to narc on gabriel? OR aziraphale calls him from the phone crowley possibly lent him and idk but a conversation along the lines "hey crowley so i think a fight with demons caused goob to lose his memory and lmao but i think he also lost jesus!!!

either way crowley uses aziraphale's phone specifically and is obviously looking intently at something

and lastly again i think this has the resurrectionist minisode - fitting given that they decked out a pub in edinburgh with resurrectionist signs etc so that probably triggers a flashback for az when he goes there for the jukebox mystery

4. THE HITCHHIKER

no official press photos for this one as far as i know , but possibly????

main storyline summary:

first, *SLAMS HAND ON TABLE* 🚨40s MINISODE🚨

i think however that this is where muriel is back on earth, potentially rooting around greek street trying to be as nosy as possible

and crowley now loaded in with info hot off the press (lmao aziraphale) knows that the second coming is involved and realises he needs to get into heaven to find out more info which is so james bond of him what a legend

and then WELL WHADDAYA KNOW muriel turns up and therefore im wondering if the above is from crowley's pov - muriel spots him in the shop and gets a tad excited

then - bless their soul - muriel gets coerced into helping crowley infiltrate heaven, or he follows them back to the heaven entrance they're using, and jumps in the lift with them last minute (ie the hitchhiker)

god knows why he's going to heaven in disguise but he's living his best life bless*

ALTERNATIVELY see ep1 about the muriel/crowley scene

5. THE BALL

okay i admittedly have no idea on this wtf happens in this one

do they DANCE

is aziraphale checking off a GUESTLIST for their disco ball?????? WHAT IF ITS MAGGIES BIRTHDAY OR A FUNDRAISER AND THATS WHY THERES RECORD GARLANDS ON THE SHOP IN THE OPENING SEQUENCE????

rap battle

a lil SMOOCHY SMOOCH??? (NOT the leak one, a different one)

6. EVERY DAY

✨everything goes to shit lmao✨

i can't even be bothered write out everything that happens in this episode because i think we can guess the bare essentials - crowley is on the throne in hell, demons attack the bookshop, metatron appears and declares war, aziraphale sharts himself, DEMONS destroy said bookshop and aziraphale's FUCKING HOME

i do feel like EVERY is in here because i reckon aziraphale finds out crowley was betraying him to hell, even if for a good reason, and crowley desperately tries to make aziraphale see that it was "for us, for you aziraphale!!!!", SNOG, and aziraphale tells him to get fucked bc now he can never trust him, crowley said hed never lie to him "obviously, you're a demon" from s1, and the cliffhanger is them being on their OWN own sides @azirafuck back me up here

Update 19/07: and what if aziraphale can't forgive crowley and literally tells him he can't forgive him... and fallssssss?

like I'm SORRY but i need heartbreak like THIS

IF AZIRAPHALE FALLS THO IM GOING TO KILL EVERYONE ON EARTH AND THEN MYSELF💓✨

ACTUALLY MAYBE THIS???? IM GOING INSANE NOW

[carmenized-onions]

and i’m back with another yap session🤭okay okay, there were some parts that i forgot to mention last time so hopefully i can hit them this time and feel less insane😀

1. SYD AND TONY!!! i’ve been wanting to touch on them for a while but i never know how to do in a way that makes sense?? BUT THE FRIENDSHIP IS SO PRECIOUS, I CAN’T. they remind of the tiktok sound that’s like “we were girls together” and i literally can’t get that outta my head with them🥺 i think i just love reading about tony and the rest of the gang?? like i love seeing how they fit into the chaotic puzzle that was the beef– ESPECIALLY with all the new changes happening!! plus carmy’s reactions to tony’s dynamic with everyone is actually hilarious😭 like when he was so pressed that ppl have their own nicknames for her. like carmy, please remember to breathe LMAOOO

2. also the current chapters are still making me wanna run up my WALLS😭i don’t think i ever know peace anymore… WHAT DO MEAN THE WORSE DAY IF THEIR LIVES IS COMING?? SAVE ME?? IM SCARED??

3. and carmy’s so sick and twisted but like me too so it’s cool😎 but in all seriousness, it reminds me of that feeling of being in a 3 person friend group but knowing there’s a duo and you’re not apart of it (am i articulating this properly?? idk??) it’s such an odd feeling to be jealous of something that you know you probably shouldn’t be. like just because they’re besties, doesn’t mean that they care for you any less. but i also get his desire to wanting to be her person and not just the little brother full in but then again, you can’t even blame him for feeling like that cause WHO WOULDN’T??

AHHH THERES SO MUCH MORE I WANNA SAY but this is getting kinda long so i will hold off‼️again, just wanna reiterate how much your writing makes me wanna ascend into the divine plane; it literally so amazingggg😫 tysm for reading this certified long ass yap session🫶🏾

Cannot define enough how much I love these yap sessions, literally always feel free to send me any and all fleeting thoughts in the brain box.

aside: new chapter uhhhh Sunday probably? Maybe tomorrow possibly? Pending how fast I am. I'm trying to get the next two chapters drafts done together so I can refine the first one with the knowledge of what's gonna happen in the second. Cause n Effect, All That.

ANYWAYS, you can be incoherent-- Just so you know-- It's my job to make sense of what's in my inbox, u don't have to work on that. BUT YES I LOVE WRITIN EM, I am slowly more and more just writing bits and pieces of my own friendships and isms into them. So, they're a delight of memories, to write about. AND VERY MUCH SO WE WERE GIRLS TOGETHER. I think that's literally a line, in delivery fees, something like 'you become girls, together' cause it's just ! regress! in a good way hehe.

I love writing Tony with the idea of a season 3 Bear-- Because it's this weird thing where she is simultaneously new and old-- And everything to her is also new and old. It's this weird fucking neo-nostalgia that's really fun to chew on. AND YES HE'S SO CREASED.

I try to put myself in the perspective of the perspective I'm writing for, with whatever, and when I was writing Carmen's chapter I was like this stupid motherfucker Richie got to do all this shit and hae all these stupid nicknames why the FUCK DO YOU WANT TO SAY HI TO HIM?? RICHIE!!!!?!?!??!?! And then reading it back now, a week or so later, I was like Wow. Kind of a lot, bro. Lets both take a step back.

2. Your fears are valid. Well. Is that what I'm supposed to say here? Hm. Here's what I'll say, I haven't gotten to the bad bad part, yet. So like, it could end up being not that bad, to you guys. To me it's bad. It's really bad. But like, maybe you're fine. ALSO 3RD OR 4TH WORST DAY I SAID-- JUST THE WORST FRIDAY. Because I had to give them Top something, I just needed to get specific.

3. As the littlest sibling, 100%. I can't see myself being friends with any of my older brothers' friends, so the idea of becoming one of their friends and posthumously finding out they were best friends with my brother? WHAT? WHAT? WHAT? DID THEY TELL YOU ABOUT ME? DO YOU THINK I'M LITTLE BABY LITTLE STUPID? And it's also like, just being friends with All of The Beef is like ohhhhh, I remember it took me a long time to warm up and make my way with them, but for you it was probably so easy cause you're just like that, which is why I like you so why do I feel angry about that !!!

AND ONCE AGAIN, THANK YOU THANK YOU, FEEL FREE TO YELL IN MY INBOX WHENEVER. P.s if anyone made it this far, u got me. I'm makin' a taglist. Reply/DM/Ask to be added!

But if you wanna be added,,,, you gotta send an essay in with it baby, or I simply won't it's the RULES!

p.s i really do love u so dearly for sending in your thoughts thank u thank u angel <3

[dontmindme2600]

Things that have happened to in Fallout 3 so far as I go into the game not knowing anything at all about it, part 3 (part two is in the reblogs of the og post I just don’t want to make it any longer lol):

-Game just straight up crashed randomly (love u Bethesda) but thankfully it was like soon after I turned it on so I didn’t really lose anything important. What was weird though is that after closing it and reopening it, it was still crashing. Like it just froze with glitched audio on the title screen. Also somehow when I tried to open a whole other game to give it a break the glitching sound continued over to a whole other goddamn game for some reason. I am using past tense here but I actively write this stuff as it happens (I have this post drafted) and literally have no idea what to do rn because I’m playing on Xbox GamePass and like wha (I’ll figure it out)

-I found the mechanist and tried to do that speech thing on him where you try to tell him he’s become just as big of a problem as the AntAgonizer, the first time it didn’t work and he killed me. The second time it immediately worked, and after like 3 lines of dialogue he took the suit off and I completed the entire quest. Like. Like the whole thing. What the fuck. I don’t even know what the AntAgonizer looks like yet. I was. I was expecting a little more there

-Was hanging out in the Rivet city marketplace for the first time, got some pre-war clothes, gossiped with some NPC’s, all of sudden one of them starts running and I’m getting shot at, I leave and come back and everything’s normal, don’t know what that was about but I LIVED THIS TIME THOUGH HA

-Was going through hell in DC as you do and started repeatedly clipping through the ground with every step I took, had to reload a save to get it back to normal

-Whatever you do, do not take a left after you discover Friendship Heights

-Found an area that was full of raiders to practice my combat and the raiders just like. Hung a bunch of dismembered bodies from the ceiling of one room and I will not lie I was a bit aghast. Appalled if you would. Flabbergasted. Like have some class???

-Made it to the underworld, I’m considering killing Ahzrukhal to learn more about Charon without having to pay, but the people there already probably don’t trust me and I don’t want them to become hostile because I killed him lmao

-Found a glitched like,,, floating armor I think??? It was just a chest plate and mask floating in midair in some closed off area of an underground metro station, and I’m not joking it scared the shit out of me because it looked like a floating corpse staring straight at me alsjdhakksj. When I walked into it gravity kicked in and it fell to the ground, but when I went back into the same area again later it respawned, floating again.

-I’ve realized that there’s a counter for “pants exploded” in your stats and I am,,, very curious on when that will be a thing I can do

Notes:

-I still have absolutely NO idea how to use V.A.T.S. properly, so I avoid it, so I’m absolutely dogshit at any combat in the game. I kind of think that at this point I should probably work on it because I’m struggling to make any major progress with the quests. So I’ll make sure to practice sometime

-From now on I’ll tag these posts as “fo3 with Stupid” (the old ones are tagged with this as well)

[spacevampires]

so this gets a little dark and im drafting it over time because i have a lot of thoughts but the adventure zone is one of the biggest things in my life so far

i discovered the adventure zone properly when i was in the mental hospital. it was only my second time and they were, like, 4 years apart and i was in a whole new state and environment and thought i knew what to expect but was horribly mistaken. i was dealing with psychosis at the time, so i got put in the "violent" unit unless/until i could earn being in a better unit (spoilers: they rlly didnt like transferring ppl dealing with psychosis out of the violent unit). due to this, the unit didn't have games, books, or what have you, we had to share what people had brought or had dropped off. my now-fiance offered to bring some stuff in, and in the collection of stuff were the TAZ graphic novels.

i must have read through those 6 or 7 times. i love D&D, i rarely got to play though, and various stuff makes reading hard, but i kept reading those books and they were easy enough for me to get through. when i got out, we picked up the 4th and 5th books and i started listening to the podcast.

i don't have great focus either, so i'd listen to TAZ while walking, heading to work, any time i could get my brain to focus on it basically. i'm (as of writing this) still only up to ep 47 (the eleventh hour arc), and it still means so much to me.

TAZ has made me laugh when i could barely get out of bed. taako's monologue on being a fully realized creation kind of helped me come to terms with some other stuff i was dealing with (like, i've got DID and sometimes it's really hard to see myself as a whole person, and as much as that's still a struggle, it kind of helped me process that i'm not just a fragment of my own imagination, i'm like. an entire person. even if i am a little fragmented lol). some of the times the boys get reassured or supported, it feels like i'm being supported, too, even though it wasn't directed at me. theyre all living and growing together and maybe im living vicariously through them or something but every time i listen, something hits me in just the right way to make me feel like maybe i'll be okay after all. i mean, if trés horny bois can make it through all that, surely i can survive this lol

i don't think i needed a hero. i didn't need some wild fantasy where theres someone who swoops in and saves the day with seemingly no problems. THB might be a trio of pretty powerful people, but they don't execute everything perfectly, especially not first-try. they're still people with their struggles and mishaps and even if they always manage to save the day, even if they're quite literally living in a magical fantasy world, it doesn't feel quite so unrealistic. i didn't need a perfect hero, i just needed some people i could relate to to really show me that it'll be okay, that i'll get through this even if i fuck up seven ways from sunday.

the adventure zone made me feel like things might be okay for the first time in a long time.

[themattress]

Rey realizing that she can indeed be the hero of this story... leaves her with not much development left to happen when she’s only 2/3s of the way through the story. What would the last third of her arc be if she’s already stepped into the shoes of a hero and resolved the question of her parents? Where is the tension in her arc? What else is there left for her? Thus I think having the parental reveal in the third movie, whatever it ends up being, where it could be something that rocks her world either positively or negatively, would be stronger. The fact of the matter is her journey to being a hero was nearly done at the end of tlj and the big question of her past was resolved, leaving almost nothing for the third movie in terms of her development. Thus, tlj fails Rey in that it does not remember that there must be a third movie

YES. This is abundantly clear if you've researched the Colin Trevorrow drafts for the third movie. Even those drafts, which are not TROS, had to somehow bring her lineage / parents back into play because otherwise there wasn't anything from the first installment of the trilogy that concerned Rey personally to be resolved in the third installment beyond her connection to Kylo Ren, which was way more of a thing in the second installment than it was in the first.

He went from running away to standing to fight to running away again

To be fair, standing to fight went badly for him so I can see why he'd regress.

At no point was he reckless in TFA whatsoever, he was cocky, sure, but not reckless.

More truth. He honestly came across as too seasoned to be that reckless.

I think you and I can agree that the redemption arc was going to happen no matter. It was a guarantee. Whether someone likes it or not, it’s obvious from Kylo’s first appearance that it was going to happen due to his character archetype.

AKSHUALLY, it wasn't really him or his character archetype that gave him a guaranteed redemption arc. It was actually Leia. One of the only things set in stone from the start of the trilogy's development was that Leia would hold the key role to saving the day in Episode IX and that Kylo Ren's redemption would be a result of that since she's his mother. And as we all have seen, not even Carrie Fisher's untimely death stopped that plan from going through.

So the absolute only option is to bring in a secondary villain, but bringing in a secondary villain, well, that’s not exactly climactic in a lot of cases. If it’s a new villain, someone we’ve never seen before, we’re not going to care about them compared to all the characters we’ve already had 2 movies with. So they won’t be compelling and the stakes can’t build properly

This literally happened in the second draft of Trevorrow's film. It was lame.

So ultimately I don’t think it’d be fair for me to say that Kylo’s arc fails in tlj. It doesn’t. His themes mostly follow. But it just could’ve been so much better, in my opinion, both in terms of in tlj itself and in this hypothetical third movie that didn’t exist at the time, if only Snoke had remained the main villain. It could’ve been fucking incredible

Snoke still would have to connect to Palpatine, though, since otherwise he's just cheap writing. Maybe he could be his Soul Jar; an independent entity who also houses Palpy's Force Ghost. Then we'd have Andy Serkiss AND Ian McDiarmid hamming it up on screen!

So why the fuck does Poe then go fully mutiny mode when Holdo reveals literally the same plan for the rest of the Resistance to escape like???

And also, why didn't Holdo just say "there's a planet nearby!" when Poe was freaking out? What compelled her to stay silent at that point? Gah, that entire plotline was just so stupid.

Idk how TLJ can be viewed as a continuation of TFA when it barely keeps the same themes, all the characters act differently, and it barely picks up on any of the story threads TFA left off

[inahallucination]

the story of the blue ink

Neil thought Todd was great with words.

He read every half written poem he could get his hands on, listened to every vaguely drafted story Todd could come with, and practically shined in glee when Todd let him look through his completed works.

So it was a fair assumption, on Todd's part, that Neil thought Todd was great with words.

At first Todd had dismissed it as him being nice. But then Neil never really stopped asking to read his stuff. Then, in a test almost, Todd shared as much as he could without cringing to death. Waiting. Waiting for a falter in Neil's supposed full belief in Todd. It never came. If anything, Neil seemed more certain.

It wasn't that Todd thought Neil was a liar. Because Todd knew for a fact that Neil could not lie to save his life. It was just-

It was just that it was kind of hard to accept that there was someone who liked what Todd thought.

Todd's writings were all a raw part of him. And Neil liked them!

Todd's parents didn't even like him the way he was. They always wanted something different from him. Be it better grades, or to join the clubs Jeffrey had, or to be literally anything but Todd himself.

And Neil could look at that part of him - completely unhidden and unchanged and he could like it. It didn't really make sense.

But whether it made sense to Todd or not didn't matter. What did matter was that Neil thought Todd was great with words - great with writing.

Todd desperately hoped that Neil would think that when he read the note Todd had left on his desk.

It was written on a page he'd ripped out of his poetry journal. Written in his favorite blue inked pen.

And it was sitting there unassumingly on Neil's desk, on top of his script for the play he was in.

It wasn't any dramatic sonnet or heartful poem. Instead it was a few words scribbled with care and a bit of hesitation. Little words that could change everything for Todd.

//

Neil came through the doors with his usual endless energy. He greeted Todd with a gaint grin and a hand messing up Todd's hair. Todd ducked away, throwing him an annoyed look despite his insides singing in happiness.

He loved when Neil did that.

Not that he'd ever let Neil know that.

Then Todd faced his notebook, nibbling on his pencil. He heard Neil ask him what the note on his desk was, instantly recognizing it as a paper from Todd's poetry journal.

Todd didn't answer, instead squeezing his eyes shut and keeping his back to Neil.

"Is it a poem?" Neil asked, voice tinted with excitement. Todd reached down to grip his desk, nervousness practically making him want to throw up.

Then it was quiet. Todd hoped it was because Neil was a slow reader. Even though he knew that that wasn't true.

Todd tightened his grip on the desk and squeezed his eyes shut.

"...Todd..." Neil's voice came as if it was far away, a little breathy and a little dazed. Then a second later Neil called his name again, but this time from right behind him. Then silence again.

Then two hands were reaching from behind Todd and gently cradling his face and tilting his head up.

Then there were soft lips pressed against his own. Todd's eyes flew open only to be met with Neil's jaw and neck from where he had leaned over Todd from behind to kiss him.

Todd let his eyes shut again, reaching up to hold Neil's hand holding him.

Then Neil pulled up and moved his head back enough for Todd to be able to stare at his pretty brown eyes.

"I like you too. A lot." Neil said. Then he grinned mischievously and let go of Todd. He walked around to stand next to Todd and then threw a leg over Todd lap.

And before Todd could properly process what the actual fuck was going on, Neil was sitting on his lap. His back was probably uncomfortable with Todd's desk digging into it, but Neil didn't say anything.

Instead he held Todd's face again and kissed him again. Over and over.

When Todd had written a note, at best he'd thought Neil would still want to be friends. Though he'd desperately hope Neil liked him back.

But nowhere in his head lay the possibility that not only would Neil like him back, he'd also have been waiting for something to happen between them.

And that Todd would spend his afternoon with a lapful of Neil Perry. His boyfriend.

Shit.

Maybe Neil was right all along.

Todd was good with words.

//

taglist:

@tuskofthyme​ @flustered-flux​ @fumbleface​ @plagg-wants-cheese​ @thereallordalfreddouglas​ @nocturnalnewsiestrash​ @finding-an-angle​ @justarandompjofan​ @theluminoussunflower​ @sweatytootheddeadpoet​ @impressedcauliflower​ @beeisnothere​ @chaotic-coexistence​ @marsbernn​ @hgracieeees​ @quartz-forest​ @poetofthedyingstars​ @aaronhoetchner​ @emilythefern​ @aedan-mills​ @flyingdesksets​ @crumbly-apple-pie​ @sapphicnoel​ @meekish-behavior​ @boy-wonder-oncologist-fan​ @ilovehimbos​ @regina-della-poesia​ @fandomfiish​ @make-ur-lives-extraordinary​ @whisper-my-serenade​ @berrythenewsie​ @spenceraliah​ @yearning-theatre-kid @srj901

[kosmosguk]

Bloody Artistry (M) ~🥀

pairing: celeb! kim taehyung x journalist! reader; minor pairings: jungkook x reader, coworker jimin x reader (platonic)

Word Count: 8K

Summary: when the scrutiny of fame becomes too much, perfect kim taehyung finds his peace within a lavish bathroom located two blocks away from the nearest club, a corpse in the bed with him. the fans have never questioned his behavior, not when his company is much too good at cleaning up his mess to not have done it before, but when a reporter with too many questions threatens to break the peace he’s established, he finds himself in a tango with the devil that he can’t bring himself to want to break.

[Warnings: MURDER, death, literally Taehyung being a sick bastard 25/8 (but only in fiction), company corruption, violence, yandere themes, mentions of noncon smut (intoxication, mentions of being drugged, fingering), blackmail, obsession, stalking. EVERYTHING that happens in this fic is FICTION; plz don’t go busting nuts for serial killers]

A/N: Thank you to yoongissugarmommy for requesting this! Part 1 of a short series starring Taehyung. Was going to do smth similar to Lineage with him, but this has been staying in my drafts for too long (like i wrote most of this before I even wrote Lineage, which is why my writing for part of this is a bit different from my current one), and I feel like going a bit modern now to take a break from Lineage (taking a bit to write pt. 4 just because it’s the end of the main story). Thank you for 2.9k followers! We’re only less than 50 away from 3K which is so wild to think about; kisses and hugs to everyone who’s supported my work! 

“Today, in the studio, we have our nation’s golden boy, the first love of all of our viewers: Kim Taehyung. Everyone, please clap your hands for him!’’

The MC turned to grin at the audience as the audience cheered loudly; her glossy black hair swept down and framed her face delicately in perfect shiny strands. The lipstick that coated her unnaturally wide smile was a deep shade of red, stark against her pale white skin. Dressed in her primly pressed suit, she looked lovely, like a blooming rose, but as she turned to face the guest star, his presence seemed to easily outshine her own.

“Thank you for having me. It’s an honor to have an interview here and have an opportunity to see all of my lovely fans,’’ Taehyung’s deep voice rang out as he smiled in his heart-swooning way, flashing pure-white teeth handsomely in a carefully maintained and practiced way that made all the fans, both in the studio and watching from beyond a screen, unable to resist letting out shrieks and screams.

“Now, Taehyung-ssi, with a record-breaking album that topped the charts as soon as it came out and a modelling gig that sells out magazines faster than before, how does it feel to have really made it? It must stress you out. Any tips on how to relax?’’

Taehyung leaned back slightly in his seat, his smile flashing coy for a brief second before settling into a rehearsed contemplative expression. He shrugged his shoulders, letting them drop out, as he made a soft hmm noise.

“How I relax? It’s not that big of a deal, really, but that’s an interesting question to ask, noona,’’ Taehyung widened his eyes slightly, looking ever so much like the golden boy persona he had stickered upon his reputation,’’ When I’m really, really stressed, I like to play with Tannie, my dog, and eats lots of yummy food that my mom sends to me when I get stressed. Also, my manager Namjoon is a good person to talk to when I’m really stressed; he always knows what to do and say.’’ Taehyung tapped the tip of his nose lightly, scrunching his face in an expression that made fans coo in adoration. “I also like to think of my fans and read all the letters they’ve sent me. I saved all of my letters from my beloved fans since my debut, and I like looking through them.’’

“Hey, Kim Namjoon, fucking hurry up,” Taehyung hissed into the cellphone pressed against his flawless cheek,” My shoes are going to get stained at this point. You know blood is a pain to properly get out of letter.’’

“Were you at least careful this time? We don’t want rumors getting out,” Namjoon’s voice crackled over the receiver, barely a hint of emotion in his voice. The beeping and honking of cars on his side of the phone call signaled the rush his manager was making towards his location.

Taehyung huffed in agitation, clicking his tongue sharply in annoyance as he skimmed his nails for any trace of dried blood. “Oh, come on, you think I really even care at this point? With the way the company takes care of everything, you’d think perfect ol’ me was…well perfect. But still, aren’t you guys way too good at this job? 7 girls and not even a peek from the public. Who else do you do this for, huh? Suga-sunbae? J-hope-sunbae?”

There was no reply. Taehyung threw his gaze over to the practically mangled body. Too bad, he thought to himself, she was really pretty this time. Red lipstick, silky black hair, wanted to become better acquainted with such a famous celebrity after her little interview, the whole fanatic spiel tied with a pretty bow of the title of an mc. She would’ve never thought that she’d go from being a bed-warmer to being so cold.

“I must be right then, huh? Suga-sunbae I can see, but J-Hope-sunbae…’’ Taehyung whistled lowly under his breath. “I thought you’d at least deny that. It’s the bright ones you gotta watch out for.’’

A dial noise was the only response. Did…Did this bastard hang up on him? Taehyung grimaced before three knocks rang on the door of the hotel suite, a signal from his asshole manager that Namjoon had finally arrived. Taehyung rolled back his shoulders, his joints crackling a little, and made sure all of his jewelry was perfectly back in place before he opened the door.

As Namjoon shuffled in with some of the staff members, Taehyung clasped his silver watch around his wrist with a soft click. He rolled his neck, trying to get the stiffness out of it, and exposed purple marks and bruises from the bites the now dead girl had given him when they had been fucking earlier.

Finally, his headache was gone.

You chugged down a cup of stale coffee and wiped the dribble of liquid that escaped the corner of your mouth as you clicked off some article about a newbie mc receiving slander after rumors of her making moves on a popular idol was exposed and disappearing to avoid the backlash. Squinting at your screen with dry eyes, you pursed your lips and snapped the laptop shut, pushing the device away from you in an agitated huff.

“Wbat’s got you in the gutters, huh? Let me guess…,’’ Park Jimin, your desk mate, rolled his chair over to your side, his glasses askew on his nose,” Ah, your favorite celebrity go into a dating scandal? Let me think, who was it that recently go into a scandal… Oh, is it that pretty boy from a new idol group?’’

You gave him the stink-eye, and your sigh this time was even louder.

“You’d think there’d be something more…interesting going with these celebrities that we could get our hands on. Too much money, lots of stress, yet no story that’ll really seize the audience by surprise, and don’t you dare say a dating scandal would do it. Boss’s been on my case for the whole week on writing an article to shock the audience and wants me to release a major headliner story in two weeks, or that asshole’ll fire me. Damn it, Kim Seokjin!” you hissed out before slamming your forehead onto the desk.

“Man, be careful with your volume; if he hears your tone, he’ll chew you out for another hour that you could be using to research. Boss Kim is picky like that with everyone because our company’s a small piece of seaweed in a system dominated by crustaceous predators.” Jimin poked you in the side jokingly, his plush lips spread in a wide smile that lit up his exhausted face. “Just think really hard; use that big brain of yours and focus on a celebrity. Come on, no one’s perfect, even that one super famous idol Kim Taehyung must have some flaws, so don’t sweat it.”

“That golden boy? Man, the whole nation’s pussy-whipped for him. He couldn’t possibly be anything bu—,’’ you sharply inhaled before pushing your seat back and rapidly swiveling to face Jimin,’’ Park. Fucking. Jimin. Oh my God, you’re a fucking genius! A whole career with not even a speck of dirt… Come on, even pure-faced idol Soyeon was caught with a scandal last month. There must be something on the nation’s golden boy!’’

Jimin’s eyes widened in surprise with your sudden outburst, and he opened his mouth to speak. “Be careful about the way you go when you try to fish out info on him. His company’s security isn’t something easy to get through, and not a single celeb from that company has gotten into a single scandal. No reporters been able to get any dirt from them…”

“Which means that…there’s something sketchy happening. Jimin, Jimin, have I told you I’m in love with you?’’

You turned around quickly in your chair, spinning in glee. Jimin dropped his mouth open to sputter something, and his cheeks were tinging red, but you weren’t looking at or even listening to Jimin at hat point, having already cracked open your laptop to furiously type Kim Taehyung into Naver. This was it! Your big break! Your motivation sky-rocketed, and you felt the first rush of energy that wasn’t fueled by some caffeinated drink in a long while.

Two hours later, you were ready to throw up.

All of the results were sickeningly the same bullshit, as what was expected for someone as beloved by the nation as Kim Taehyung was. You couldn’t fathom the amount of fancams and magazine spreads of him posing on some brown leather sofa and fact pieces—hell, you even knew what kind of socks the man liked—that you had spent the past hours scrolling through.

Realizing that the office was nearly empty, and that the sky was dimming into a dark hue, you were about to shut down your laptop and call it a long fucking day when a tweet on someone’s SNS caught your eye.

@truth-teller: kim taehyung? nation’s golden boy? are you all really sure about that nonsense?

The tweet was spammed with angered replies, so many that the thread seemed to stretch on for at least a mile, but your interest was piqued. This was the first word of slander you had ever witnessed against Taehyung. You quickly pounded out a message to the account.

@name_01: hey, I saw your tweet about taehyung! Do you perhaps have any more information on him? I find him suspicious too.

You tapped send and waited with bated breath for a reply. Minutes crept by, and you were about to turn off your phone and head out of work when you noticed three dots pop up, dancing before disappearing.

@truth-teller: you fr? I had to suspend my acc because of all the spam I got. No one’s believed me on it, but I have proof

You chewed on your lip. What if this was a joke, and you were just wasting your time on some internet troll with too much time on their hands. It seemed like you were taking too long to reply because another message popped up.

@truth-teller: if you don’t believe me then that’s fine. I don’t have to waste my time

@name_01: WAIT! Sorry, it took me a second to comprehend this information… Please tell me more.

You were worried that the account wouldn’t reply anymore, and that you had ruined your opportunity before the three dots popped up again and another message was sent.

@truth-teller: ok, if you want to find out more let’s move to a better messaging platform, just in case my acc gets suspended by more fans. here’s my number: xxx-xxx-xxxx

It was a gamble to send some stranger on the internet your number, but at this point, you were too desperate to really give a damn. There was a story just out of the reach of your fingertips; you would be a fool to deny the carrot on a stick you were being provided.

@name-01: okay, I’ll message you.

Name: hey! Truth-teller right? This is me from the messages

JK: yeah that’s me. I prefer JK when I’m not on sns tho

Name: I’m (y/n). I don’t mean to sound like I’m hurrying you, but I want to hear what you have to say about Taehyung.

JK: lol r u a reporter or smth? Real bossy of you keke

You sucked in a breath. Should you reveal that?

Name: haha would it be bad if I said I was?

There was no response for the next 15 minutes. Exhaling a long sigh, you decided that you should at least maneuver your way home; the office had been cleared out completely during your conversation with this JK, and you couldn’t help the creeps that the emptiness gave you. If anything, the walk back to your place would give you some outlet for the nervous energy radiating throughout you. You were nearly at the door of your apartment when your phone vibrated in your pocket, signaling a message.

JK: just checking. Makes sense that you’re one though. It’d be nice if you could break this story out, but I hope you trust me enough after I tell you what I know

You clicked the door shut behind you, your eyebrows creased as you stared at your phone screen.

Name: don’t worry. I trust you!

You dropped your bag down onto the sofa before throwing your body onto the seat. The three dots under JK’s name popped up for several minutes before disappearing. In the place of the three dots, a long message had been typed out.

JK: I didn’t really think much of taehyung when I first heard about him since he’s the nation’s golden boy or whatever bs title they call him nowadays, but my sister’s friend was a big fan of him. she went out with my sister and they met him in some shady club in gangnam. my sister’s friend got to talk to him exclusively and my sister got separated from her and got a text from her friend saying that she had smth come up and she already went home. she tried to contact her friend the day after, but she got a text back saying that her friend wasn’t feeling well. my sister’s friend was “best friends’’ with her but she didn’t contact my sister again until a week later saying she got a job opportunity overseas and already was about to board on the plane because it was important she got there fast. my sister’s friend didn’t contact her again like she dropped off the face of the earth

You pursed your lips in contemplation as you tapped out a message back, your nails clicking against the screen.

Name: ?? Are you sure that isn’t a coincidence?

JK: yeah, I thought so too but it was rly sus that my sister’s friend who had known my sister for 12 years to suddenly go overseas for a job opportunity without telling her at all. and when my sister tried to get new contact info from her friend there was no reply. but I got curious and since I do some computer work for my job i wanted to see if I could track the ip address of her phone but there was nothing. her last previous ip was all the way back in gangnam and my sister’s friend lived in incheon. that was a red flag so I decided to go talk to the landlord at my sister’s friend’s old apartment and the landlord said he didn’t see her come back since before that night but woke up to a fully paid lease and the apartment cleared out 

You squinted your eyes at the screen, unable to properly process the information that this so-called JK had just given you. Chewing on your lip, you closed your eyes briefly before opening them back up and typing back a message.

Name: anything else? Sorry…just seems a bit far-fetched.

JK: think whatever then. I have to go to work now

Right when JK’s message popped up, another message pinged on your cell. You refused to let yourself ponder more on JK’s last message as you clicked on your friend’s text notification.

Platonic LOML <3: BAE, R U FREE TONIGHT? I’m lonely n want someone to come with me to this club— ik you’re not into clubs but pretty please

You were about to reply with a refusal when JK’s words came up to your mind again. You didn’t know why, but there was a sharp feeling in your gut that told you that you couldn’t miss this opportunity Call it silly intuition or some coincidental fabrication spurned by your mind, but that feeling persisted until you typed out a reply to your friend.

Name: okay fine. Come over in 30.

Taehyung swirled the liquid in his glass, watching the deep burgundy of the wine stain the glass a soft pink. His head was hurting again, and the new medication he had been taking for them on advice of the company didn’t work.

He scanned the dim, musty club, watching the pulsating lights cloak the dancing bodies in sallow shades of pale yellow. This club was a downgrade from his previous celebrity-exclusive club that he had gone to the previous week, but his manager had told him that if he really wanted peace, he should choose an area where no one would really know him.

Taehyung knew the real reason why his manager had insisted on this. Deaths of other celebrities were much harder to cover up after all.

Pity he actually followed his manager’s advice for once. The wine in here, despite the bougie price tag, was complete shit and provided him a slight buzz at best. And there was no one who really caught his eye out of the crowd of people. As he was about to get up from his seat and leave the club for somewhere with better—he contemplated going back to that celebrity club just to fuck with his company—pickings, he caught sight of someone entering the club.

You looked absolutely gorgeous, swathed in a black shift that you kept fighting to keep over your ass—and god, was it a plump ass too, the kind that made Taehyung’s cock hard in his tight black pants—with hair framing your face in a breathtaking way that showed glimpses of sparkling jewelry. Your friend, some chick with dyed green hair that Taehyung didn’t bother paying attention to, was clinging onto your arm, dragging you near the dance floor.

Taehyung knew.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you.

His head seemed to clear from the mind-numbing throb it always had when he spent too much time without another victim to take his aggression out of. Feeling the cool metal of the blade he always had tucked near his body, Taehyung sat back down in his seat, a playful smile perking at the edges of his lips. Funny enough, the blood thirst that never seemed to properly leave him was gone from his mind, an occurrence that was as rare as the pills the company liked shoving down his throat actually working for once.

You maneuvered your way over to the bar, to him, your friend pouting as she noticed you leaving before melting away into the crowd of grinding bodies. Taehyung swore then and there that the attraction between you and him was absolutely magnetic, with the way you seemed to pull the other towards one another.

He watched as you ordered some pretty-colored martini, adorably scrunching your face as the burn of alcohol coated your tongue and hit the back of your throat with a singe.

Maybe, Taehyung though to himself as he propped his chin lazily on his palm, he should really start listening to his manager more often.

Your mind was in a haze, and you didn’t even notice the man next to you until he was nearly pressed to your side, barely leaving a gap of space between the two of you.

You glanced at him, your tipsy mind suddenly sobering up as you realized who the man sitting next to you was. Kim Taehyung? What the fuck was he doing here?

“Another drink for a pretty lady?” Taehyung’s teeth showed as he charmingly flashed an award-winning coquettish smile at you, his already extremely handsome features seeming to increase in beauty from the grin.

You remembered JK’s words and a chill ran up your spine. God, his messages didn’t seem so implausible now, did they? Goosebumps rose up on your skin, freezing you to the bar table. Were…Were you his next victim?

You swallowed dryly as you tried to calm your racing heartbeat. The side of you that was a reckless journalist wanted to take a nosedive at the headliner just out of reach, but the rational side of you knew that leap of faith had a much bigger chance of you ending up disappearing off for a new job opportunity overseas, as Taehyung’s company would have it. You couldn’t write a good story if you were dead, after all.

“Thank you, but I can pay for my own drinks,’’ your lips twitched slightly as you forced them into a hopefully convincing gentle smile, refusing his offer softly before moving your body casually a few inches away from him,” Having drinks bought by strangers isn’t really my thing.”

Your smile must’ve looked a hell of a lot less nervous than you actually felt and a lot more convincing too because Taehyung’s shoulders, which had previously been winded like he was a predator getting ready to pounce on prey, seemed to relax at your words.

There was a dark gleam in his eyes when he again invaded your personal space and pushed his body near yours. He leaned in and whispered softly into your ears, his voice clear despite the early 2010s hits blaring from the speakers by the dance floor.

“If you’re scared of strangers, why don’t we get to know each other a bit?’’

Your fake smile grew stiff on your face. You felt like you were going to hurl the convenience store meal of ramen that you had scarfed before coming to the club all over the bar and Taehyung’s expensive luxury bran clothes. You could feel a sense of dread in your bones, the kind a prey animal would feel as a predator focused its carnivorous attention on them.

You forced a fake laugh, trying to drive the message that you were just not interested to Taehyung as loud and clear as you could manage.

“No thanks; I have enough people I’m close to. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ve left my friend alone for far too long on the dance floor.”

You pushed yourself off the bar table, flashing a strained polite smile before you headed over the dance floor, trying to keep your pace slow and steady instead of breaking out into the outright run you wanted to do.

Taehyung inhaled the linger scent of your perfume, a natural smell that sweetly layered itself over the damp musky air of the club. His eyes, even as you tried to focus on the pounding music and forget the fear embedded deeply in your gut, never seemed to leave your form. Even when you burrowed yourself deeply into the crowd away from his view, you could still feel it.

You found yourself painfully sober after that encounter, trying to look normal in front of your friend for the rest of the night that seemed to painstakingly drag on for eternity. Even when you had the short 2-minute walk from the cab you took to your front door, you didn’t stop looking over your shoulder, still feeling the chill that came with the thought of Taehyung’s gaze. When you got inside your home, the bubbling nausea in your stomach took control over you, and you ended up heaving your dinner down the toilet.

When you managed to somewhat pull yourself together, you typed out a quick message with practically shaking fingers to the only one you could think of in that moment would understand what you were feeling, You stared at your unsent message before hastily pressing send.Name: I didn’t know who to talk to, but I saw Taehyung at the club today. I think you’re right about what you said about Taehyung.

Name: I didn’t know who to talk to, but I saw Taehyung at the club today. I think you’re right about what you said about Taehyung.

Ping!

You barely managed to fall asleep that night, and your eyes painfully ached when you peeled your eyelids open, hurriedly grabbing your phone and turning it on to check your messages.

JK: what happened? Sry for late response. Job keeps me busy all night

Your fingers flew over the keyboard as you typed out your message, furrowing your eyebrows in concentration as you tried to relay the events of your night in hopefully comprehensible words.

Name: I went with my friend to some sketchy club idk what area at this point but I went to the bar and I felt someone come up to me ?? I turned and realized it was Taehyung, and he offered to buy me a drink but I declined. Makes me sick how I could’ve been his next victim, so I tried to leave and go back to where there was more ppl in the club, But I can’t stop thinking about the look in his eyes. There was something sickening in them, I couldn’t put my finger on it.

JK didn’t respond for a bit, and you exhaled a trembling breath when his message popped up.

JK: be careful. Im glad you managed to get away

Name: I’m scared. I didn’t know what to do, but hopefully I’ll never see him again once I get this scoop out.

JK: stay safe. Thx for telling me. Text me if anything else happens.

You let out a shaky breath before clicking your phone off, your nerves still rattled but slightly more calmed down after talking with JK. You had to get ready for work, but at this rate, you weren’t even sure how you would be able to get through the day. Maybe you should take a sick day? No, you couldn’t.

The elevator dinged closed behind you as you stepped out of it into the office. As you were about to take a seat at your desk, your boss rushed out of his office, relief, something he never showed to you, evident on his expression once he caught sight of you.

“(Y/n)! Come into my office; I have an important job for you,’’ your boss ushered you into his office without another word, practically pushing a baffled you into the room frantically,” You know the company that manages Kim Taehyung? They reached out and agreed to an exclusive one-on-one interview with Kim Taehyung only, and only, if you agreed to the interview.”

You stiffened, your body frozen as you tried to process the words your boss had just spoken. Your brain seemed to be running a marathon as you computed the words your boss said, and you could only meekly respond with a limp,” Why me? Can’t somebody…Can’t someone else take over? Boss…you know I’m not that experienced.”

Boss Kim barely paid any attention to your words as he rested a hand on your shoulder with a confident look on his face.

“Then, use this opportunity to get more experience. You want to show the world that you’re a journalist by getting a scoop? Then take this interview! You know the company never agrees to exclusive one-on-one interviews unless they’re all staged, but there wasn’t even talk of this being staged at all. If you can use this opportunity and get something big, won’t this be your biggest step towards a great journalist career?’’ your boss exclaimed,’’ If you back out, another chance like this won’t come again!”

As much of an asshole Boss Kim was sometimes, you could find the logic in his words. Besides, it must be a coincidence that Kim Taehyung wanted you specifically to give him an interview; maybe he wanted a newbie, so they wouldn’t have much experience trying to fish out personal details and twist his words.

That’s right. There was no way he even remembered what you looked like. You guys interacted for, what, a solid 2 minutes last night. And if you did this interview right, you could use it as a building block as evidence for the headliner you intended to release with what JK had told you.

You exhaled, nodding your head firmly.

“I will. I’ll take this interview.”

Boss Kim’s face brightened, making him look much more like the stereotypical handsome CEO character found in dramas. Since he always looked exhausted and stressed out, he always seemed more intimidating, an aura that seemed to scare off any thoughts about how gorgeous he actually was. You had to admit: your heart did flutter a bit at his face.

“Excellent! He’s waiting in the meeting room right now! You only need, what, six hours to prepare, right?”

Fuck, you take back that heart flutter. Boss Kim was an asshole.

“S-Sir,’’ you sputtered,” I can’t…’’

Before you even finished your words, Boss Kim was already ushering you back out of the office.

“I believe in you! You got this!”

He closed the door behind you. You swallowed back the mouthful of swears you wanted to spew before scrambling towards your desk.

You weren’t prepared, but you knew you would do anything for a scoop.

Exactly 6 hours and seventeen seconds later, you were primly seated in front of Kim Taehyung.

The seats were annoyingly too close, and you cursed Boss Kim in your heart, knowing that the reason why the chairs were placed in such an unprofessional manner was because Boss Kim wanted to create the perfect intimate setting for no cost. If you tried to extend your legs, you’d end up smacking them straight into Taehyung’s legs.  

You, although disgruntled, had to admit that there was a reason why so many major brands wanted him as their model. He was handsome under the shitty lighting of the musty club last night, but here, with his hair and makeup carefully done despite the fluorescent lighting of the room, he was every synonym of the word beautiful combined into one person.

Blond strands of his hair brushed his chiseled features, and his eyes, curved attractively and framed with delicate long wisps of eyelashes, was intensely focused on your face. He looked ever like a marble statue, carved with attention and detail to be the most perfect specimen artistry could ever create. But he wasn’t perfect; that was what you knew. And that would also be what would you get just one step ahead of him.

You swept a piece of hair and tucked it behind an ear as you scanned your hastily scribbled notes. His eyes clung to that movement, as if he was mesmerized by your every action, and you peeked a look through your lashes. Your eyes met, and you forced a stiff smile.

“Kim Taehyung-ssi,’’ you rolled your shoulders back into a proper posture, gingerly extending a hand out for him to take,” Good morning. It’s an honor to be able to do an interview with you.”

The edges of his lips tilted upward, and there was a playful glint in his eyes as his previous fiercely predatory state melted into the façade he put up in front of the public. He reached out and took your hand, throwing you off guard as he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss on the back of your hand.

“Likewise, it’s an honor to have an interview with you, (Y/n).’’

Yuck, you were going to have to wash your hands later. Anyways, what kind of person even kissed the back of people’s hands nowadays? This was the 21st century for fuck’s sake. You somehow kept your grimace to yourself.

You nervously laughed as you practically yanked your hand back out of his grasp. You casually wiped the back of your hand on the fabric of your skirt, disguising the movement as simply brushing off dust. Taehyung’s eyes didn’t leave any of your movements, and he laughed a little as he realized just what you were doing.

Oh, you were so interesting. You weren’t like the rest of them, the fans that threw themselves at him adoringly; hell, he was sure you weren’t even a fan. He was entranced. When he was close to you, the headaches seemed to fade; he didn’t want to drown himself in another body when he was with you. He didn’t want to kill when he was with you.

You ignored his burning gaze, breezing through the beginning parts of the interview. Finally, you reached the part that you had been anxiously preparing for.

“So, I heard that you’re trying out a new actor role. As a model and an artist and now an actor, we have to admit that your talents are incredibly versatile, Kim Taehyung-ssi.’’ You continued speaking. “Could you tell us a little more about this role?’’

“You flatter me too much, (Y/n).’’ He purposefully had left any formalities to the wind in this interview, a move that made you want to grind your teeth. “Yes, I was offered one of the leading roles in a new thriller movie. I’ll be acting as one of the charismatic but complex characters. I hope to show you and all of my fans a new side to Kim Taehyung.”

“Ah, a new side,’’ you nodded lightly,” Your new role as a charismatic serial killer who targets his admirers is certainly what many would call…complex. How do you go about preparing for such a twisted role?”

“Hmm…,’’ Taehyung’s lips curled up menacingly for a brief moment before fading away into a breezy smile,’’ It’s quite difficult to immerse myself into a role in which I have limited experience in, so I like to read through the script and make a map of what the character is like. What motivates him; what makes him so…complex, as you called it. I pretend to be like the character. How do I make myself think like him? That’s the question I like to try to find an answer to.”

“Ah, this is simply my personal opinion, but to truly play the character requires some true life experience…Is it possible that you’ve ever done anything similar to what the character has done in real life?”

A pin seemed to drop in that very moment from the silence that crowded the room. Everyone in the room froze and stared at you, their glances less than pleasant. You bore it all as you stared intently into his eyes. Slip up, you prayed, do something that will make you slip up. There was not even a brief soft sound in the 10 seconds that it took for Taehyung to respond.

He was rigid, the smile plastered on his face barely fading. Come on, you begged, expose yourself just a bit.

“Your response is lagging for just a bit, Kim Taehyung-ssi. It makes you seem guilty just a bit, doesn’t it?’’

He snapped out of it right then and there.

“I was simply contemplating my response. Your impatience is something not so befitting of a formal interview. To answer your question, isn’t a role just a role at the end of the day? If you think about it, I’m not the only person to have played a role like this. Many actors and actresses have done so without any thought of relating it to their real life. After all, a role is simply an imaginary self.”

You both stared into each other’s eyes, and you felt the gazes of other people around you burn into you.

You settled on a retreat. It was fine; this interview was just the first building block. You laughed lightly, throwing off the previous tense silence easily.

“Of course! We wouldn’t expect nothing but, right? We hope to see your talent truly shine through in this new role!’’

The tenseness in the room seemed to slip away right then, and the deathly gazes on you flitted away, like they were never there in the first place.

You let out a sigh as you left the interview room. God, that was terrifying, but you knew that you had to do what you had just previously done. What you had just done asserted the theory that you had. His company was hiding something about him, and that something was nothing less than downright horrific.

JK, you thought to yourself, I’m going to expose this story, just you wait.

“You weren’t just going to leave, huh?’’

You heard a familiar voice speak behind you, and you quickly spun around.

“Kim Taehyung-ssi,’’ you forced out of your throat,’’ I believed you had already left.”

“I was going to, but I wanted to speak to you about the interview. The company rarely lets me do interviews, so it was really refreshing to have one done with you. We worked so well together, and I would like to thank you for the pleasant experience you had given me with dinner. You must be starving, right?’’

You had been starving earlier, but one word from Taehyung left your stomach churning in nausea.

“No!’’ your voice was a bit too loud, so you hastily softened it,’’ No, that’s not necessary. You don’t need to thank me.”

Taehyung took steps closer to you, and you unconsciously took a step back. Noticing your movements, he looked at you and flashed a grin that might’ve looked harmless to others but outright menacing to you.

“Are you scared of me?’’ his voice was almost like a purr. You fought back a shiver, straightening your back and looking him straight in the eyes.

“No,’’ you stabilized your voice, keeping a waver out of it,” Why would I be scared of you? You’re not some higher being than me just because you’re a celebrity. You’re human, after all. But, as you can see, I have work to do, so I will have to politely decline your offer.”

“You can have the rest of the day off.”

You spun around on your heels, your gaze colliding with Boss Kim’s. When did he arrive?

“Sir! Boss! No, if I skipped out on work, I’d be a burden to everyone. Besides, I—,’’ your voice was cut off by another voice.

“It’d be good to establish a positive relationship between your company and ours. Your boss would usually be the one to go to a dinner, but I believe he already has plans. Any work you were unable to fulfill today will be taken care of.”

The voice seemed to chill you to the bone. You turned to make eyes with a man. Was he…Taehyung’s manager? Although he was handsome, the kind of handsome that was comparable with Taehyung’s, something about him churned your stomach. While Taehyung was like a predator waiting to pounce on his prey, the man behind this voice was already sinking his teeth into the neck, wringing out the… You snapped out of your thoughts.

Snap out of it, you mentally scolded yourself.  

“How about it?’’ Taehyung’s manager coldly smiled, his tone like glaciers.

You opened your mouth to try to refute, but with the burning gaze from your boss, you could only dip your head in a bow, your voice low.

“Thank you for the offer. I accept.”

They couldn’t kill you, right? It’d be too obvious.

You followed them out, and when you passed by Boss Kim, you made a panicked glance at him. What greeted you made you halt briefly in your pace.

When Boss Kim made eye contact with you, he patted your shoulder in what should’ve been reassurance. His lips spread out in a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Don’t disappoint me, hmm?’’

His words, spoken low and steady, left a chill in your veins as you kept walking, and the sliding doors of the elevator dinged close behind you, effectively trapping you with Taehyung and his manager.

You somehow made it out of the elevator and through the tense car ride alive. Now, you were seated next to Taehyung himself in the private room of a restaurant. Smoke rose from the grill, briefly obscuring your view of his manager from across you.

You tried to think positively of the situation. If Taehyung was drunk, maybe he’d slip up, but…you made a furtive glance at his manager from across the grill, slightly jolting when your eyes collided with his own. The fear that nearly overcame you made you nauseous.

“A drink?”

Taehyung’s voice broke the tense silence, and you turned to see him already raising his glass. You stiffly smiled, barely managing to keep the nervous twitch out of the curves of your lips.

“I don’t drink.”

“It’s impolite to decline a friendly offer. Come on, a toast to a wonderful…partnership.” Taehyung chuckled, raising his glass, as he leaned his chin onto the propped palm of his hand,” And we wouldn’t want a bad start to it.”

You were panicking by now, but you could imagine what Boss Kim would say if Taehyung’s company pulled out because of something so miniscule. You couldn’t afford to lose your job, not with the way you had fought tooth and nail to get your position; you wouldn’t last a month without your job or the meager protection it gave you.

You made your decision, a decision you would’ve done anything else but avoid, and tilted the glass up, clinking it against Taehyung’s glass. Turning away, you made it look like you were lightly sipping the drink, but you only allowed the liquid to slightly wet your lips. You set down the still-full glass and smiled pleasantly.

“I can only drink this much. Anymore, and I would experience terrible side effects.”

Taehyung didn’t seem even irked by your feeble attempt at pretending; instead, his eyes filled with amusement. He didn’t stop staring at you, and the threatening vibe of it caused you to unconsciously delve into your habit of gripping your glass of water and drinking it in an attempt to calm your nerves.

You placed the empty glass back down before resuming anxiously picking at your food. A pair of chopsticks—specifically Taehyung’s chopsticks—placed a piece of barbecued meat on your bowl of rice.

“Not feeling hungry? You need to eat. Skipping meals is bad for your health,’’ Taehyung beamed as he watched you carefully pick up the piece of meat and eat it. It would’ve been delicious any other time, but the churning in your gut made it taste like sand in your mouth. You dryly swallowed it.

“I’m heading to the restroom.”

You heard Taehyung’s manager speak in his flat tone, and you threw a skittish glance at him as he stood up and walked out of the private room, closing the door with a soft click behind him.

“Ah, now that that nuisance is out of the way, why don’t we talk more?’’ Taehyung’s tone was playful, and you flinched as he leaned closer to you, his breath brushing against the outer shell of your ear.

“Kim Taehyung-ssi,’’ you gritted the name through your teeth,” Please respect my personal space.”

He laughed lowly before he dropped a hand on your thigh. You were about to make a move to push him away, but your body suddenly felt tired, like you weren’t quite in control anymore.

“Come on, do what I say, and your little news company will do so much better. Your boss didn’t tell you this, but your company’s going bankrupt. One peep from me, and your company will rise in ranking, but I can only do that if I’m in a…happy mood.”

Taehyung pressed even closer to you, his nose against the curve of your neck as he inhaled your scent deeply in. His hands moved from his side and he ripped open the buttons of your shirt, groping your bra-covered tits. You let out an incoherent mumble in response, trying to flimsily kick at him.

Where was the waiter? Why was his manager taking so long? They planned this!

Disgust and heat coiled in your gut, but you were too dizzy to move. Something…that bastard…Did he spike your water? You were too careless, fuck. Taehyung moved one hand to tilt your chin up before his lips met yours. Despite how sloppy of a kiss it was, you could tell he was experienced, practically tasting every inner crevice of your soft mouth with his tongue, and you should’ve continued to be revolted, but whatever pill in your system had you melting into his mouth.

Taehyung seemed to sense the turmoil and conflict in you and the soft give of your will, and that seemed to make him even braver. He slid a hand up your skirt, his touch hot even through the fabric of your stockings, and you let out a startled moan against his lips, drool dribbling down the corners of your mouth. He pulled back, and you could barely see through the teary haze of your eyes. It had been too long since the last time you had a good fuck. You just wanted to be touched…wanted to be fucked so hard his cock would press against your womb.  

“I just want to see you let go a bit, baby,’’ there was the triumph of domination in his voice. The sober part of you wanted to rebel, wanted to push and scream and kick him away, but you weren’t sober, weren’t clear-minded. Your legs spread as if begging for more of his touch.

He ripped his fingers through your stocking, and the material easily gave way underneath his strength. You could feel the damp spot on your panties, growing as he rubbed his fingertips against your drooling pussy. You shivered slightly in delirious pleasure as his finger rolled over your throbbing clit.  

“Mmph!’’ you let out a sound as he pushed your soaked panties to the side and pushed his fingers deep into your pussy. You couldn’t object, not when your pussy was stretching with a spine-tingling ache around his fingers, and especially not when he begin to set a teasing pace. He pushed his fingers in, and you shut your eyes in shame as your moans grew louder.

Your toes curled as his movements grew faster, reaching deep into you, and you were so, so close. Oh my god you could feel…and you were cumming hard. Your walls shivered and twitched around his still moving fingers, and you murmured a dazed plea as he finally stilled and pulled his fingers out. You, still twitching from how hard you came earlier, were ashamed to see the way his fingers glistened with the remnants of your arousal and orgasm.

The sound of his pants being unclasped drew you out of your drugged state. No, he wasn’t going to…Come on, snap out of it, snap out of it.

He drew back closer again, and you sucked in a breath, trying to push through your daze. He leaned in. You managed to bring your arms up to the table, grabbing the nearest object that you could reach. Your trembling fingers closed around your nearly empty water glass, and you took it, raising it and smashing it as hard as you could over his head. Water, ice cubes, and glass shards struck as the glass broke. Taehyung, not expecting the blow, had a temporary moment of weakness, and you managed to push him off you.

You shoved yourself up onto shaky legs, wrapping the ripped blouse around your weakened body, and forced yourself into a run outside of the room. The hallway of the restaurant around the private rooms was empty, devoid of any person. You frantically looked over your shoulder, relieved that you didn’t see him coming after you. This was a public place, though it was late at night, and you knew Taehyung wouldn’t risk his perfect reputation. But still, you remembered his manager was still out there.

You couldn’t let them kill you…You had to survive! You broke into a blind run, ignoring the strange looks and the calls you got from the restaurant’s staff as you pushed out of the restaurant into the street. You kept running despite the dizziness of your mind, and you could barely see what was in front of you before…You crashed into someone, slamming into their body so hard that you were sent sprawling to the ground.

“Please…,’’ you choked out, your voice strangled, crying out a desperate plea as you grabbed onto their clothes,’’ Please help me.”

Your mind was dizzy, splotches of colors splattering your blurry vision. Your body had overexerted yourself, and you prayed that you wouldn’t end up a dead body on the news as your grip around the clothes went lip, and you collapsed into the road. Through the buzzing of your ears, you could hear a startled voice call out, feel a firm touch grab your shoulders and try to shake you awake. Some strange hope rose in you; maybe…maybe…?

You murmured desperately one last mumble, your words barely making sense, as you spiraled into unconsciousness.  

“JK…please help me.”

A/N: if you want to be added to the taglist for the next part, reply with a  ❤️. If you enjoyed the story, please leave a comment or a detailed review below <3

Next work will be a fic for Jungkook’s upcoming birthday. Poll will be released soon for what kind of plot it should have! 

[beecherdrysdale]

Project Partners - Brendan Brisson

Hey guys, so here’s a fic I started like a month ago and then kind of forgot about. Please send feedback bc I’m trying to improve my writing skills! Also, covid doesn’t exist in this.  

warnings: language, underage drinking, that’s all i think?

///

“Y/L/N and Brisson.” You groan as you hear your professor name your partner for the term-long project. Of course you know who Brendan Brisson is. You had grown up as a huge hockey fan, so of course you had been watching the draft when he got drafted by the Golden Knights, and of course you had seen him playing for Team USA at World Juniors. From what you could tell of him, he seemed like the kind of guy who would make you do all the work and use hockey as an excuse as to why he couldn’t help. That’s too bad for him though, because he’s not the only varsity athlete, and swimming takes up just as much time, if not more, than hockey. Your professor continues to drone on about the project requirements as you contemplate why you even decided to take this course in the first place. 

Finally, class ends, and you see Brendan walking toward you. “Hey, you’re Y/N, right? I’m Brendan,” he introduces himself.

“Yeah, I’m Y/N. Guess I’m stuck with you for the rest of the semester, huh.”

“Yeah, so I just wanted to let you know I have hock-” he started.

“Save it, Brisson,” you cut him off, “you’re not the only athlete here, OK?”

“Wow, someone really woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“Sorry,” you sigh, “I’m just really tired of having to do all the work in group projects. I did it enough in high school, and I’m just so done with everyone’s excuses y’know?”

“Well, what I was trying to say is that I have hockey a lot so we should coordinate our schedules to work around it.” He pauses a second, then adds, “And whatever sport you play.”

“Swimming,” you supply.

“What?” He looks confused.

“Swimming is the sport I do,” you clarify. “Anyways, does the library at 8 on Tuesdays and Thursdays work for you? Besides when you have games or I have meets obviously.”

“Yeah that works.”

“Ok, see you tomorrow then,” you reply, turning to leave.

“Wait!” he stops you. “Can I get your number or snap or something in case I need to talk to you?”

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, quickly typing them into his phone.

“Thanks! See you tomorrow at 8,” he says before jogging to catch up to his friends.

///

The next day when you get to the library, the first thing you hear is, “You’re late. Where were you?”

“Sorry we got out of practice late and then I had to shower cuz chlorine and then I couldn’t find my hat and I didn’t want to go outside without it cuz my hair would freeze...” you begin to ramble.

“Hey, calm down, I was joking. You’re literally only like 2 minutes late.”

“Ok but I lowkey still feel bad.”

“Seriously, it’s fine,” he says, “Come on, let’s choose our topic.”

“Ok,” you respond, “so I don’t know if you have any ideas but I was thinking maybe we could do the effect of hockey on the Cold War? Cuz like you play hockey and I watch it all the time. Plus, I did a research paper on it in high school, so we could pull info from that and it shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he says, seeming distracted. “Hey, why didn’t you tell me you’re a big hockey fan?”

“Ummm, cuz you never asked? You’ve literally only spoken like 3 words to me before yesterday so I don’t know why I would tell you.”

“Ok, I guess that’s true,” he responds. He then proceeds to quiz you about hockey, seemingly trying to make sure you’re an actual fan and not just trying to use hockey to get to him like some other girls he knows. You seem to pass his test, because it’s not long before the two of you are messing around, making fun of each other’s taste in hockey teams. Two hours later, the two of you have gotten to know each other a lot better, but you haven’t even started your project. 

“Shit,” you say, checking the time on your phone, “I gotta go. I still have to help my friend with her math and I have morning practice tomorrow.

“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow in class,” he says. “And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be late.”

“Omg shut up. You’re not funny,” you say playfully, as he laughs his ass off.

“You know I am,” he shoots back.

“Sure, Brisson, whatever you say. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say as you leave.

///

After a few more library sessions, the animosity between you and Brendan which, you admit, was your fault had completely dissipated. The two of you quickly learn you actually have a lot in common, like your love of sports and your music taste, and despite his fratboy vibes you quickly grow to trust him. That’s why you don’t hesitate to say yes when he asks if you can meet at the hockey house to work on your project instead of in the library. 

When you arrive at the house, you are greeted by the sound of the entire hockey team arguing over whose turn it is to make dinner. “I have to work on my project though,” you can faintly hear Brendan.

“It’s OK Brisson, sounds like you have more important things to do. We’re somehow ahead of schedule anyway,” you say, entering the kitchen. 

“Seriously Y/L/N?” he groans. “You were supposed to be on my side.”

“Sorry,” you say, shrugging.

Your apology is interrupted by Cam, “Hey Brisson, who’s this? Wanna introduce us to your new girlfriend?”

“Funny,” you say. “We’re just friends. We got assigned to work on this project together. Isn’t he wheeling like 3-4 girls a weekend anyways?”

“Hey,” Brendan protests. “You make it sound like a bad thing. I only do what they want.”

“Beside the point Brisson,” Johnny jumps in. “Just introduce us to your new friend.

“Fine,” he groans. “Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, these are the guys. Now,” he says, grabbing your arm and dragging you toward the stairs, trying to make his escape, “let’s go work on our project.”

“Not so fast, Brisson,” Nolan cuts in. “You’re making dinner. Y/N said it’s fine.”

Brendan sighs in response.

“C’mon,” you say. “I’ll help you. I promise it’s not that hard.” 

Brendan begrudgingly follows you back to the kitchen as the rest of the guys scatter. You begin to pull the ingredients to make tacos, which thankfully they have, out of the fridge. “Here,” you say, tossing Brendan a tomato. “Can you dice this?”

The two of you work in silence for a few minutes before you decide to turn some music on. As you turn to reach for your phone, you glance over to see Brendan’s pile of tomatoes. “Seriously, Brisson?” you ask, staring at the haphazard pile in dismay. “Have you ever cut a tomato before? I had better cutting skills than that in preschool.” You hear a few guys snicker from the other room at that. After showing him how to cut it properly and turning on your Spotify, you continue to work, chirping Brendan occasionally. Once you and Brendan finish making dinner, you call the rest of the guys back into the kitchen to come eat. 

As the guys eat, they drill you with questions, trying to find out as much as they can about Brendan’s “project partner.” You answer all their questions, and by the end of dinner you fit in seamlessly with the boys, even joining in their good-natured chirping of one another. Eventually, you have to leave, but the boys are quick to let you know you’re always welcome back whether it’s for your food or your company, you don’t know before you go.

///

As soon as you leave, all eyes are on Brendan. “So Briss, you wanna tell us about your new girlfriend?” Nolan asks.

“She said it herself, we’re just friends. We’re working on a project together,” Brendan is quick to reply.

“Sure...” Cam counters. “Friends don’t look at friends like that Brisson.”

“Like what?” Brendan asks.

“Like she hung the stars in the sky or some shit like that,” Johnny responds. “Look Briss, just go for it. It’s not like she’s gonna say no, she literally looks at you the same way.”

“But she would say no,” Brendan protests. “She’s the one who said we’re just friends first so obviously she doesn’t like me like that. Why should I go for someone who’s gonna reject me when I an go to a party and pick up whatever girl I want, like she said?”

“Because you can’t get whatever girl you want, Brisson. She’s the one you want. We can all see it,” Johnny replies.

“Ok you know what, fuck off. Leave me alone. The two of us are just friends,” Brendan reaches his breaking point. At that, the guys let it drop, Brendan’s outburst giving them all the proof they need.

///

Meanwhile, you are back in your dorm chastising yourself. Why did you have to say you and Brendan are just friends? You know any chance you had of him liking you back is now gone, because he thinks you only think of him as a friend. You debate what to do, even going so far as to pick up your phone and tap on his contact, before changing your mind and getting ready for bed. Guys like him don’t go for girls like you anyway or so you think. You’re sure he wants one of those perfect girlfriends who are always put together and dress cute, not some athlete who always walks around in sweats, and the last thing you want to do is fuck up your friendship by confessing. You ignore the feeling of jealousy that rises in your chest when you think of Brendan with another girl and force yourself to go to sleep.

///

It’s not even two days before you get a snap from Nolan asking if you want to go to a party with all of the guys. You agree immediately because you don’t have morning practice tomorrow and your plans with friends got cancelled and you’ve secretly been looking for an excuse to see Brendan outside of working on your project.

That night, you try to dress extra cute, even going so far as to ask your roommate to help you choose your outfit as she seems to have no problems picking up guys. You finally settle on an outfit and hurry out the door, wanting to make sure you get to the party on time so you can meet the guys outside and not have to walk in alone. As you walk out the door, you hear your roommate call, “Have fun! Be safe! Use a condom!” You flip her off as the door closes. 

When you get to the party, you see the guys outside waiting for you. “Hey Y/N,” you hear a couple guys say.

“Heyyy,” you reply, as you guys start heading toward the house. Brendan lags behind the group, eyes trailing down your body. As much as he loved the fact that you wore what you wanted read: sweats and didn’t try to be a Barbie doll, he had to admit seeing you like this was hot. He hurries to reach the rest of the group, deciding you were standing just a little too close to Cam for his liking. He may not be able to be with you, but he sure as hell wasn’t gonna watch you date one of his teammates. He catches up and wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Hey Brisson,” you greet. “What’s up? You learned how to cut a tomato yet?”

“Haha, very funny Y/L/N,” he responds.

“Oh come on, you know it was,” you protest.

As soon as you guys enter the house Johnny says, “I’m going to get a drink. Anyone want one?”

“Yeah, can you get me a Natty?” you’re quick to respond. “But please make sure it’s closed.”

A couple other guys request drinks, and Johnny goes to get them while the rest of you head further inside. You stay with the guys pretty much the whole night, not wanting to get separated because you know what happens to girls who are at parties alone. 

At some point in the night you guys end up near the beer pong table, and when it’s Brendan’s turn he makes you be his partner not that you’re complaining and drags you over to the table. The two of you quickly get on a winning streak and you end up winning the tournament you got pulled into. At this point you’re pretty drunk, so you don’t hesitate to go along with it when Brendan hugs you, the two of you stumbling a little bit. Both of you are reluctant to let go, reveling in the feeling of each other, as each of you thinks the other doesn’t like you back so you’ll never get to experience the feeling again. 

You and the guys stay at the party a little longer before they realize how drunk you are because you had had more beers than any of them and decide its time to leave. All the guys come with you back to your dorm in order to make sure you get back safe, a gesture both you and your roommate thank them for before they leave.

///

It’s a couple weeks later and you’re hanging out with the guys, as has become usual for you, when Johnny ask, “Hey Y/L/N, how come you never come to any of our games? I thought Brisson said you’re a big hockey fan.”

“Yeah, I am,” you reply, “I just usually have swim when you guys have games. Plus you guys never invite me so...”

“Well we kinda assumed you already knew you were invited,” Nolan says. “You’re always welcome at our games, and if you tell us you’re coming we can probably get you good seats.”

“OK, well we actually don’t have swim practice on Friday for some reason, so I can probably come,” you say. “I’ll try to drag my roommate to come with too.”

The boys groan, “Really, Y/N? You want us to get two tickets? Do you know how much work that is?” before quickly revealing that they’re joking and telling you that of course they’ll get you two tickets.

///

True to the boys’ word, when Johnny sits next to you in your class together on Friday, he hands you an envelope with two tickets. “What are you wearing to the game tonight?” he asks with a plan up his sleeve.

“I don’t know,” you respond. “Probably my Michigan swimming hoodie.”

“You wear that everywhere though,” he protests.

“Yeah, so?” you fire back. “It’s a Michigan hoodie. School spirit.”

“Or you could wear this,” he says pulling something out of his backpack. He unfolds it to reveal that it’s one of Brendan’s hockey hoodies.

“Doesn’t he need that for the game tonight?” you ask.

“No, he has two,” Johnny replies. “Now stop trying to get out of wearing it. You have to wear something hockey related to support us.”

“Ugh fine,” you give in, knowing Johnny will be persistent.

///

That evening, you arrive at the arena with your roommate, begrudgingly wearing the hoodie with “Brisson” boldly stamped across your back. You are not enjoying yourself, because knowing what it feels like to wear Brendan’s sweatshirt and smell his cologne makes you all the more aware that this will never be your reality. Nevertheless, you force a smile on your face as you and your roommate sit down to watch warmups. You can feel the energy in the arena even now, before the game begins, as UMich is playing rival school Ohio State. 

Once warmups are over you and your roommate go to use the bathroom and get snacks. The line for the bathroom is so long you don’t think you’ll make it back to your seats before the game starts, but thankfully you get to them just a second before puck drop. The game gets off to a rough start, with Ohio State scoring twice early, but by the end of the first the guys have picked up their pace, and you hope that they’ll be able to tie it up in the second.

After intermission, the boys come out guns blazing. Brendan scores just 30 seconds in to the period off an offensive zone face-off win. As he cellies, he makes eye contact with you up in the stands. “He is so into you!” your roommate squeals when she notices.

“No he’s not, shut up,” you reply, turning your focus back to the game. The guys stay on the forecheck pretty much the whole period, and it finally pays off when Johnny scores with 5 minutes left to play in the second. When the period ends and the guys head back to the locker room, the game is tied 2-2.

The third period begins with an Ohio State faceoff win, and they quickly get off a shot attempt. Thankfully, the shot goes wide and play continues. The teams go back and forth all period getting good scoring chances, but neither team is able to capitalize. It looks like the game is going to go to overtime, but then Brendan scores again with just 43 seconds remaining. Once again, he makes eye contact with you and smiles as he cellies, and once again your roommate freaks out and says that he definitely likes you. You make her shut up and start to grab your stuff as the final seconds wind down. 

“Woah, slow down. Where are we going?” she asks.

“The guys told me to meet them outside the locker rooms,” you say, beginning to lead the way.

///

When you get to the hallway outside the locker room, you lean up against the wall and start scrolling through Insta as you wait for the guys to come out. Eventually the guys slowly begin trickling out of the locker room and heading over to their various girlfriends gathered in the hallway as all the single guys congregate around you, but you ignore them so you don’t get dragged into one of their arguments. 

Finally, you see Brendan come out of the locker room so you put your phone away and push your body away from the wall. He starts to make a beeline toward you and does a double take when he realizes you’re wearing one of his sweatshirts. The guys had been bugging him for weeks to ask you out and he had been thinking of maybe doing it tonight, but seeing you in his sweatshirt has finally given him the confidence to make a move. As he reaches you, you say, “Hey Briss.”

“Hey,” he replies, and then his lips are on yours, and you don’t know where this is coming from but you’ve been wanting it for a while now so of course you kiss back, and it just feels so right you don’t ever want to stop. When you finally break apart, all the guys are cheering and whistling and you hear a couple guys mutter “finally”.

As the guys quiet down, you ask Brendan, “What was that for?”

“Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t have done it,” he panics, thinking you were mad, even though you kissed back so you obviously weren’t.

“No, I liked it,” comes your reply. “It just kinda came out of nowhere.”

“Oh,” he calms down. “Well I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while now, but I was kinda nervous so I kept putting it off. But then you looked really hot in my hoodie, so I just went for it.”

“Yes,” you say.

“Yes, what?” he asks, looking confused.

“You said you wanted to ask me out. I said yes,” you explain.

“Ok, so do you want to go get Chipotle or something tomorrow then?” he asks.

“Yeah, of course,” you reply. “But for now let’s go out and celebrate with the other guys.” He wraps his arm around your shoulders as the two of you walk with the team, and you are finally content.

[hskrealm]

memories. (m)

pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre: angst, smut, a liiittle bit of fluff in some places

word count: 6.2k (it wasn’t supposed to be this LONG IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DRABBLE)

 warnings: eh where do i start... reader is VERY traumatized, she’s kinda crazy too (just a little) mentions of major character death, familial issues, this fic is just very dark for like the first 2k words lol, yoongi loves his fucking sword, commoner!yoongi, king!yoongi, criminal!reader, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, hair pulling, dom!yoongi, etc.

summary: “We can save the details for later. I accept your apology, and I really want to fucking kiss you.”

notes: inspired by @dontaskshhhhh and the daechwita mv. there’s probably many typos as usual y’all—

Even though you were a lowlife, you couldn’t stand being handled roughly.

It wasn’t your fault that you had an unfortunate upbringing. Your parents were very wealthy when you were born, but after the family business failed due to illegal scamming and falsifying of information, you were left to support yourself.

Literally. They didn’t give you a single thing to live off of after the age of five, which was fine. Your grandparents took after you, and once you were able to have a say in it, you decided to never set foot in the presence of your mother and father again if you could help it.

All was fine up for the next twelve years after that, until your grandparents bailed out on you too. Something about not having the funds to support all three of you financially, although they had several beach houses to their names, and enormous retirement checks to rely on.

You had gotten used to being given up on by this point, so you weren’t as emotionally devastated as you should’ve been when you’d come home from school one day, and your grandparents had all of your belongings packed up by the front door with a nice little note on top to let you know that you’d have to find somewhere else to lay your head.

They didn’t even have the decency to tell you to fuck off in person. You laugh sometimes thinking about it, since that’s all you could do now. The past was behind you, and you can’t change it. You didn’t really want to, either, because you learned quite a bit from your younger self.

For starters, you learned from your previous encounters to never lay your trust in anyone ever again, even if they were to offer you everything you needed and more. You’d made this mistake too many times to make it again. Besides, if you couldn’t trust your own parents, then you’d be setting yourself up for failure if you decided to seek assurance in a stranger... no matter the relationship you may have developed with them.

Although you knew you couldn’t trust anyone, you quickly learned that it was okay to take advantage of help when it was given to you.

That is how you got back on your feet, after all.

You met a good group of people.

Well, good to you, but not to the law, or outsiders.

You didn’t trust them, but you allowed them to take you in. They were just like you; lost and traumatized, but they confided in one another. They didn’t really have a choice, since they only had each other.

You had an amazing run with them. They made you laugh, cry, and they supported you. Just like family, you supposed. You never had a stable family to compare the kind of love they gave you to, but you figured it’d be something similar.

You never had an abundance of anything, but you had just enough, and that was okay. You were never the type of girl who desired to live lavishly anyway.

It was remarkably easy for you to pick up on their habits. You had become keen on cheating, lying, and stealing after only two months of being in their company. It came easily to you, and you used your newly developed skills to wiggle your way in and out of certain situations.

You couldn’t wiggle your way out of this one, though. The cuffs on your wrists wouldn’t allow for that.

You sucked in a breath as you were thrown to the ground, your knees scraping against the material of your jeans as you made impact.

“Be any fucking rougher, could you?” You hissed toward the guard over your shoulder, although you wiggled your fingers nervously behind your back.

He smirked at you, stifling a laugh as he carried his muscular frame toward the large double doors that you were forced through moments prior to being manhandled toward the ground.

“Enjoy your last few moments of life, honey.” He spit, his face falling expressionless afterward as he allowed the doors to slam shut behind himself, leaving you to your thoughts. You couldn’t see his face, but you were certain that he was sporting a shit eating grin. If you could, you’d slap it off of his face.

You couldn’t see a thing in the room that you were in, and you began to grow anxious as the anticipation began to eat away at you, your heartbeat thudding loudly in your chest.

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and held back a loud cry, your eyes watering as the realization finally settled upon you. You couldn’t keep up your tough girl exterior anymore, and you were going to die in this pitch black room at any moment.

What if this was part of the execution? What if the room was this dark purposefully? To add to the shock factor? That would be sure get someone shaken up, knowing they could be taken out by a gunshot, a quick slice of a sword, something hanging from the ceiling—

You paused, sniffing the tears away quickly. You knew your eyes would get puffy if you cried for any more than a few seconds, and you wanted to be remembered for being strong, not a wimp. News would spread quickly after your death, and you knew it would. It always did.

You evaluated your position for a moment. You were crying because you were afraid of death.

Seriously, you were afraid of something that was inevitable?

You choked back a laugh, a small smile cracking on your face before you burst out into a full on fit of giggles.

You wouldn’t be tortured to death, and you knew that for sure. That sort of punishment was only allowed for sexual crimes, acts of severe hatred, domestic abuse, or murder.

You’d be killed quickly, and you were crying because of that? You’d have lost all of your street credit if word got back to your little gang.

You looked like a lunatic. Knees pressed into the ground, hands behind your back, and laughing wildly as strands of your hair flew onto your face from the occasional draft that would flow through the room.

You knew it, too, but you picked up this tip from a certain black haired boy with a scar over his eye. He used to be involved with your group of criminals.

He told you to laugh in any situation where you were put under extreme pressure. You told him that he was crazy for giving you such shitty advice, but once you tried it after being taken into custody for the first crime, you realized that he may have given you some valuable information.

“You’ll either relax a bit and take some of the stress off, or they’ll think you’re crazy and let you go. Win win, right?”

You smiled as your laughter began to die out.

You’d always remember Yoongi, but he was dead to you now.

He was the only person in that group that you connected with. Still, you didn’t trust him, but you could rely on him to help you every now and then if you needed to.

He left without a word, something about wanting to better himself. He’d mentioned that a few times before he actually left, but you didn’t think he’d follow through.

That was the first time that you’d been physically hurt when someone important to you left.

You didn’t speak for a few weeks, laugh for months, or manage to take care of yourself properly for quite some time.

He was so important to you, and he knew it. He didn’t care though, because he still left. Why did you care then?

You didn’t.

You wouldn’t have to care about anything in a few more minutes.

You rolled your neck from side to side, shaking yourself free from any final thoughts as you waited patiently for your execution.

You considered begging for your life, but there was no reason to. You didn’t have anything to lose anymore.

You sat quietly for another minute or so.

Every muscle inside of your body tensed at the sound of leisurely paced footsteps striking against the ground. You felt like you were going to explode, but you managed to keep yourself together.

“Lift your head.”

You immediately obeyed the request, fearful that you’d be tortured immensely if you hadn’t.

You took a deep breath, stopping midway through it as you felt the cool metal of a sword press right under your chin.

The panic began to settle in again, and you began to fidget around like a fish out of water as the sword grazed the skin of your neck.

“Luckily for you, ________, stealing isn’t punishable by execution.” Your eyes ballooned out of your skull, and your mouth dried instantly as you fell into a coughing fit.

“You’d better hold your breath if you want to keep your life.” The person with the sword against your windpipe teased, and you shrieked in terror and disbelief as you confirmed that the voice belonged to who you thought was the rightful owner.

“YOONGI!” You screamed so loudly that your voice bounced off of the walls in the room and echoed back, possibly louder than the scream itself.

You weren’t sure if you screamed because he was the one threatening you with a weapon, or that there was still a very large sword pressed to your jugular even though he just said that stealing isn’t punishable by execution.

How would he know that, anyway?

The room began to lighten up at the same time the sword did against your neck. You were vaguely able to make out Yoongi’s figure in front of you.

You winced slightly as the lights brightened fully, and you came face to face with the sack of ass that left you to suffer years ago.

You checked your surroundings immediately afterward, confused to find that you were in the aisle of what you knew to be a temple.

Was this a fucking joke?

You weren’t sure of what to say. You had questions, obviously, but you also wanted to scream at him for being an asshat and playing such a dumb prank on you.

How are you supposed to start a conversation with someone that you hadn’t talked to in years, though?

Yoongi could read your confusion, a sadistic smile on his face as he walked toward you as if he had achieved something great.

He leaned down in front of you, a few pieces of his blonde hair brushing against your forehead. You thrashed around in the cuffs as he placed a light peck to your forehead, just as he did when the two of you were on good terms.

“Get the fuck off of me.” You threatened, and he hummed at your attitude.

“Still as gorgeous as ever, ________.” You bit down on the insides of your cheeks as he angled himself away from you.

He was as gorgeous as ever himself, the scar still perfectly etched into his skin as if it’d never heal, his face a bit more mature since the last time you saw him, and his hair a bright blonde instead of the shiny black it was a few years back.

You hated him.

“I hate you.” You voiced your thoughts, and Yoongi simply shrugged while taking a few steps backwards, maintaining his eye contact with you.

“You wouldn’t hate me if you knew what I’ve done for you.” He responded simply, his chocolate colored eyes squinted in distaste as he turned around on his heels, walking cooly to a chair that would’ve resembled a King’s throne.

It actually was a throne, but you didn’t understand why he was sitting on it. Min Yoongi was certainly no King. He was a rude and inconsiderate excuse of a friend.

Er, acquaintance, rather. You never really had friends, and you’d like to keep it that way.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, nose turned up in skepticism. Yoongi smiled a bit, licking his lips as he reminisced upon the events that happened a bit earlier today.

He saw you being dragged into the temple by one of his guards, struggling to keep your footsteps aligned due to the inability to control the pace of your walking.

He watched as the doors of the temple swung open and you were thrown to the ground harshly. He was hidden in the shadows as he observed the scene, immediately knowing that feisty voice of yours like the sword that he carried with him daily.

It was one of the things he loved most about you. After all, he was the one that practically made that part of you, and he didn’t regret it one bit.

It pained him to know that you were brought to him under terms of execution, but he assumed this would be the way you’d turn out if you continued to involve yourself with that group of people. That’s why he left you on your own.

Plus, the road to becoming King didn’t require the help of anyone else, and it certainly didn’t require yours. This was a task that he needed to complete on his own, and now that he had, his goal was simply to remain in power.

That’d be easy. People feared tyrants.

Yoongi was no tyrant, but he had tyrannical tendencies, one of them being participating in the execution of prisoners. Now, it was strictly prohibited for a King to execute a commoner, but he didn’t mind. Plus, he did sit back and watch most times as he was supposed to, so what was the harm?

He was the highest form of authority there was anyway, so who’d complain to him about what he could and couldn’t do?

He battled with himself to figure out a proper way to ease you out of this. He couldn’t outright call the execution off, and he knew that. No one would fear a King who spared the life of some measly village girl, and Yoongi craved the fear of his people.

Perhaps he could drag you elsewhere once the guard left. If he was to be questioned about it, he could mention something about needing to speak to you privately before your execution.

No, that’s dumb. Who’d believe that?

Maybe he could wait just until your execution was to take place, and halt it, saying that you were wrongly convicted of your crimes?

He couldn’t do that either. You’d been caught stealing multiple times before, and your criminal record was long enough to prove that you were the right person sentenced to death.

So, Yoongi lost about half of his dignity when he marched right up to the guard that dragged you inside, and asked him to let you be.

Of course, the guard agreed, but Yoongi’s ego had faltered momentarily.

He gained all of that dignity back, though, when he heard you scream his name while kneeling with your hands cuffed behind your back.

What a sight to see.

Yoongi glanced back down at you from his throne, a cocky smile on his face as he shifted his position in the gigantic chair, turning his body slightly sideways as he threw his legs over the side of it.

“Nothing, so I guess you’re right. I haven’t done a thing to help you.” He shrugged, bending over onto the ground to grab his scabbard. He slid the sword into it with practiced ease and dropped it to the ground.

The sound of the weapon scraping against the sides of the holder caused you to cringe, and you jumped as the sound of it hitting the floor bounced off of the walls a few times, just as your scream did earlier.

You gulped at the thought, wondering if he really would have killed you if he had gotten the chance.

“What’s your deal with them anyway?” Yoongi questioned after a few moments of thick silence. Your head snapped up to meet his eyes the moment he began to speak.

“I don’t have to answer anything you ask me, and it’s none of your business.” You responded, and Yoongi quirked an eyebrow.

“I would’ve assumed that you’d catch on a little earlier. You have always been a smart girl, but I suppose all of the thieving and lying caught up with you after a few years.” You said nothing, suddenly feeling overwhelming guilt.

“You do have to answer everything I ask you, actually. I can’t kill you for stealing, but I can kill you for treason.” You scoffed. There he was, playing the royalty card again.

“Treason? Yoongi, give it up. You can’t be executed for treason toward a commoner. Have you lost your mind?” He narrowed his eyes at you and stood up, taking the short walk toward you again.

“You are a commoner, ________. I am not.” You were tired of his dumb breakdowns.

“What are you supposed to be then?” You smirked, and Yoongi returned the smirk with a lick of his lips.

You watched with furrowed eyebrows as he shrugged the thick black jacket he was wearing off of his slim shoulders, and you inhaled a shaky breath as you vaguely made out the emblem of the kingdom on both of his shoulders in the dim lighting of the temple.

“Oh my fucking God.” Your voice cracked as you whispered, your bottom lip trembling in defeat as you realized your humongous fuck up.

You slowly lifted your head, immediately meeting Yoongi’s eye contact. He jutted his bottom lip out to mock you, before quickly twisting his lips into a sly smile.

“You know what to do.” You nodded, lowering your upper body to the ground slowly.

You weren’t low enough to the ground for his liking, so he grabbed his sword and retrieved it from its covering, and pressed the dull side of it against the back of your head to force you lower. Your forehead was touching the ground.

“Better.” He sighed, holding you there for a few seconds before placing the sword back at his side. When you no longer felt the pressure of it on your head, you deemed it okay to lift yourself up.

Your mind was pooling with questions.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He joked, placing the sword in front of him as he stacked both of his hands onto its handle.

“How?” You asked weakly, and he feigned confusion.

“How are you King? You can’t be King with that scar over your eye.” You wanted to find any plausible fault to the idea that he was King.

“Why can’t I?” He asked with a cock of his head. The question was meant to be unanswered, but you stupidly responded anyway.

“The scar symbolizes impuriti—“

“Then I must be pretty powerful, hm?” He laughed, swinging the sword off of the ground to rest on top of his shoulder. He gave you a pity glance as he took a few steps to land himself behind you.

“I’m not going to put you in prison.” He sighed heavily, as if the admittance of him allowing you freedom hurt his conscious dearly.

“Why not?” You asked eagerly, trying desperately not to show how excited you were as your fingers twitched behind your back.

“I’m not going to imprison you, but I need you to make me a promise.” He said, removing the sword from his shoulder as he slid it in the space between your back and the chain of the handcuffs.

You stood deathly still.

“Anything.” You responded instantaneously. You’d regret it later.

Or maybe you wouldn’t.

“Don’t let me see your face around here again.” What?

Around the temple? In the village? Where were you supposed to go?

“I—“ He placed his foot against your lower back, digging his shoe into your skin through the fabric as he tugged the sword forcefully toward himself, successfully breaking the chain of the cuffs and sending it flying backward.

You moaned at the feeling, bringing your wrists in front of you as you twisted each of them around a few times to rid yourself of any stiff muscles.

“Get out.”

•••

“You called me back here?” You sighed, leaning your head against the opened doors as Yoongi hummed with a small nod.

“Yes, I did. Come in, and close the doors behind you.” You raised an eyebrow, although you shut the temple doors and walked down the aisle that would lead you to Yoongi’s throne.

He stood up from his royal seat, walking halfway down the aisle to meet you. You took the time to notice his appearance. He was dressed just like he was when you saw him a few years ago before he completely vanished. Baggy clothes, low rise sneakers, and a few chains dangling from his neck.

You held an unimpressed expression as you stood face to face with him, but seeing him dressed like this gave you a small bit of satisfaction. Of course, you wouldn’t tell him that though.

Unknown to you, Yoongi chose to dress like this to keep you comfortable with him. He needed you to be a bit vulnerable if you are going to hear him out, and he knew this would be one step closer to achieving that vulnerability.

Plus, he was taking you out today. Yes, to explain everything that’s happened during the past couple of years while he wasn’t around, but also for his personal satisfaction.

He missed you just as much as you missed him.

“We’re going to that little spot a few minutes away from here. The one we always used to—“

“I know, Yoongi. I really don’t want to bring up the past anymore.” You stopped him, holding your hand up as you cut him off in the middle of his sentence. You didn’t mean to come off so harshly, but the years of emotional trauma didn’t make that easy for you.

Yoongi nodded once, although he felt a little pang in his chest in you basically admitting that you didn’t want to go to the special place the two of you created a few years back, and you probably didn’t even want to be with him right now.

“Sure, okay.” He sighed, clearing his throat as he walked toward a hidden back entrance that he used at times to leave the temple.

You watched as he took his first few steps, before turning over his shoulder to stare at you with annoyance written all over his features.

“Are you going to follow me, or are you just going to stand there and look stupid?” You rolled your eyes and began to follow after him, Yoongi turning back toward the front once you caught up with him.

He continued to walk, and you desperately tried to fight the smile that was tugging at your lips as bits and pieces of the Yoongi you knew were starting to shine through.

•••

The walk to the secluded spot by that small river that you remember so fondly was uncomfortable and stuffy.

Neither of you said a word, simply letting the leaves crunching under the both of your shoes fill the silence.

The sun was beginning to set, and the rays cast a beautiful shadow over the river. It looked just as it did the last time you were here.

That day… that day was the happiest you’d been in years.

That was also the day Yoongi got his scar.

“Where the fuck did you go?” Yoongi asked, laughing loudly as he stumbled over a few branches while searching for you behind the trees and shrubs near the river.

“I’m never playing hide and seek with you again. You’re an asshole for this.” You chuckled, immediately clasping your hand over your mouth as you hoped desperately that he hadn’t heard.

But, it was Yoongi. Of course he’d heard.

“Your cute little laugh is going to get you in trouble.” You ducked lower behind the shrub in front of you, peering out over the edge to see if you could see his shadow approaching.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion when you couldn’t see him anymore, squinting and leaning forward a bit to see if your eyes were playing tricks on you.

Yoongi snuck up behind you, cursing under his breath when you snapped your head in his direction.

You hadn’t fully processed that it was Yoongi when he finally came into view and attempted to scare you, so you pushed him backward roughly. This sent him tumbling over a rock, and his face smashed against the forest floor.

“Oh my God!” You screamed, running over to him, your black combat boots seeming to be too heavy at that moment.

He was breathing heavily and holding one side of his face, and when you rolled him onto his back, the sight of the blood creeping between his fingers was enough to make you pull him up to his feet, and you dragged him all the way back to the village within a handful of minutes.

You had ripped off a piece of your oversized shirt and wrapped it over his eyes sometime during this process.

The two of you were spotted by a group of people as you neared the village again, and they helped you pull Yoongi to the home of a medic who would sew his skin together.

He had the stitches for two months, and even after they removed, he still had the scar.

You felt terrible, but you never got the chance to apologize.

He left the day after his stitches were removed.

“________.”

You gnawed on your bottom lip.

“________!” Yoongi shouted, and you came to with a small jolt.

“I’m sorry.” The words tumbled from your lips effortlessly, and it felt so, so good after all these years.

You walked quickly to meet Yoongi as he sat near the edge of the river, the wind blowing lightly which made his hair a disheveled mess.

“I’m so sorry, Yoongi.” You repeated, clearly this time as you sat down next to him, keeping a few feet between the two of you because you weren’t sure where your emotions were at the moment, and you certainly weren’t sure what he was feeling.

There was an awkward silence.

“What?” He laughed, the confusion evident on his face.

“What are you talking about?” You scratched nervously at your arm as he scooted a bit closer to you.

A part of you wanted to condemn him, but a larger part of you wanted him to stay right next to you.

“I’m really sorry about the scar. You left before I could apologize, and it’s been making me feel so guilty for the past couple of years, but—“ Yoongi shook his head, taking your hand into his as he intertwined your fingers with his, just like he used to back then.

You let your hand flop loosely in his.

“Isn’t it a little obvious that I don’t mind it? If anything, I’m happy that you fucked my face up.” He joked, his gummy smile slowly fading as he looked from the river to your paling face.

“Why’d you leave?” You asked, the light mood falling. Yoongi took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. He knew he couldn’t avoid this question, but he hoped that you’d at least wait a bit before bringing up this topic.

“I told you, I need to better myself.” You let go of his hand.

“Bullshit!” You exclaimed, Yoongi simply turning his head to look at you as your face began to heat in anger.

“It had something to do with me, and I know it does. Why lie now? Why bring me to this special spot to lie, Yoongi?” He took a small gulp, looking away from you and out toward the landscape. He couldn’t utter these next few words while staring at your face.

“I wouldn’t have become King if I was in love with a criminal.” He stated nonchalantly. You froze.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You stood up, and Yoongi stood up as well, just in case you were planning to run away and get yourself into trouble as you usually did when you couldn’t handle your emotions.

“I had to let you go if I wanted to change, ________. You’re not good for me, and I’m not good for you.” His voice began to thin out the longer he spoke, fighting back a sob.

“Are you trying to say that I’m a bad influence?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Are you seriously trying to say that I am not good for you , when you’re the person that I got into the most trouble with in that entire fucking group?” You shook your head as you spoke, refusing to believe that he was saying you weren’t good for him.

“Why don’t you tell me the real reason that you left, hm? I can handle the truth, and I deserve to know after waiting for so long. Believe me, you won’t have to worry about seeing me again after this.” Yoongi was seething, his hands clenched into fists by his sides as he tried to steady his breathing.

He wasn’t going to get angry.

He was going to explain himself to you calmly.

“Did you not just hear me fucking say that I’m in love with you?” His voice dropped to a whisper, as he began to take slow strides toward you.

You’d seemed to have forgotten that in the midst of your yelling at him.

“I taught you a handful of things back then, but I’m fairly sure that knowing when to shut up was one of them.” You looked over your shoulder as you took a step backward whenever he took one forward, but if you continued like this then you’d end up with your back against a tree.

This was not some cliche love story, and you weren’t the main character.

You stepped to the side to avoid bumping into the tree.

Yoongi took a side step as well, standing still for a few seconds before he grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and pressed you up against the tree by his arm.

“You were going to hinder me from my goal, ________. There’s no way in hell I’d be able to focus while having you by my side.” His grip on you loosened as he continued to speak.

“I thought if I was away from you that I’d forget about everything, but that made it worse. There wasn’t a single day that came where you wouldn’t pass my mind.” You pressed your head backwards against the tree in exasperation.

“Why couldn’t you take me with you?” You asked, sadness evident in your voice. Yoongi’s heart clenched as he read you like his favorite book.

“I wanted you to be there for the result, not the work that it took to get there. I’d come back for you when I was better off, but I didn’t have to. You came to me.” Yoongi leaned in closer toward you.

“Well, you didn’t come to me, per say. I brought you to me.” You scoffed.

“You did what?” Dealing with him was an emotional roller coaster, but you still wanted the first seat on the ride.

“We can save the details for later. I accept your apology, and I really want to fucking kiss you.” You opened your mouth to respond, but Yoongi leaned in for this kiss anyway.

He molded his soft lips against yours with ease. You awkwardly left your eyes open, but upon seeing him with his closed as the passion radiated in the way he kissed you, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to slip into his embrace.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, the kiss quickly shifting from pure and energetic love to uncontrollable and messy lust for one another.

Yoongi broke the kiss first, and you chased his lips as he pulled away. You whimpered in defeat as he used his grip on your waist to turn you around, your hands pressed against the bark of the tree.

He roughly tugged your jeans down your legs, not having the patience to unbutton them fully. You flinched as you heard a twig snap somewhere in the distance, and you looked over your shoulder at Yoongi with fear etched onto your features.

“We’re going to get fucking caught.” You laughed, although you were deathly afraid of being found with the King’s dick buried snuggly inside of your pulsing cunt.

“I’m a King, baby. I’m the boss. I don’t give a fuck about someone stumbling back here.” He spoke, while working quickly at the zipper of his jeans.

“Besides, I’ll be quick.” He moaned out in satisfaction as he finally freed his cock from its confines. He tugged your panties to the side with one of his fingers, slapping his length against your throbbing clit a handful of times before lining himself up with your inviting warmth.

“Kind of difficult—oh shit,” He paused in the middle of his sentence as he slid his cock into you, a shiver running down your spine at the feeling of being so full after so, so long.

“Kind of difficult to wait for something that you’ve been wanting for a—for a while, especially when it’s right in front of you.” He huffed into your ear, gathering your hair up in one of his hands to force you to arch you back more.

“Fuck. You okay, baby girl? I know this is a tight fit, cause you’re squeezing the shit out of my dick.” Yoongi waited patiently for your okay, although that didn’t stop him from rocking his hips against you slowly to offer himself some sort of relief.

“‘m okay. Just fuck me, please.” You begged, and Yoongi hastily obliged. He kept his hand tangled between your locks, as he brought his free hand down to your hip.

He set a gut-destroying pace instantly, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass somehow louder than they’d be if the two of you were in a secluded room.

“You can consider this your punishment for giving me so much shit talk yesterday. Look at you now, huh? Can’t get a single fucking word out, can you?” You whined as he dug his fingernails into your hip, his thrusts so vigorous and powerful that you would scrape the skin of your thighs against the tree every now and then.

Your legs twitched as you neared your high, a noise sounding like somewhat of a feminine growl climbing its way out from the back of your throat as you held your breasts in your hands, flicking your nipples between your fingers to coax yourself closer to the edge.

“Good girl. Lose yourself on my cock.” Yoongi was near his climax as well, the way your pussy was sucking him in combined with his cock grazing the material of your panties every few thrusts enough to send him straight toward that euphoric feeling.

There was something so primal about him taking you up against a tree, where seemingly anyone could find the two of you. No strings attached (yet), just pure, sexual need.

“Cum with me. I want that.” Yoongi snarled into your ear, and you nodded eagerly as he slid his hand across your stomach and down toward your clit.

He only managed to rub a few quick circles against the sensitive nub before you began to thrash wildly underneath him.

“Stay still.” He warned you, and you tried desperately to obey him as hot bliss took over momentarily, and your muscles spasmed beneath Yoongi as he used your pussy to chase his high as well, pulling out to cum on your back.

He slid your pants back up, before turning you around to try and button them. You were shaking too much, though, and it was starting to frustrate him.

“________, stay st—SHIT!”

Yoongi yelled as he began to tumble backward, making sure to pull you with him this time.

Your intense shaking caused Yoongi to trip over himself and fall backward, causing the both of you to end up plummeting into the cold river water.

“Damnit!” You cursed, and Yoongi just laughed as he rubbed his eyes free of the water that managed to seep into them.

“You’re quite the klutz.” He commented, running his hand through his hair as he slyly noticed the way your shirt began to grow more and more sheer as it soaked in the water.

“You’re quite the asshole.” You playfully rolled your eyes, squealing when Yoongi snagged your shirt into his hands and pulled you into his hold once more.

“Accidents just seem to happen at this river, don’t they?” You asked, and Yoongi shrugged, wrapping his arms around your waist as he tucked your head underneath his chin.

“Yeah, but they’re also the best memories.” You tilted your head up to look at Yoongi’s face, and his eyes were closed.

Why do you always miss the memo?

Just as you were about to close your eyes, Yoongi splashed your face with a bit of water from the river.

You gasped and pulled away from him, mustering up the most threatening glare you could give.

“Why would you do that when I’m already wet?” He smirked.

“Hell yeah you are.”

“YOONGI!”

tag list! (let me know if you wanna be on it!)

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[himbeaux-on-ice]

Can I just say that Habs “fans” who act like Carey Price’s contract is somehow patient zero of all this team’s problems drive me absolutely fucking insane? Seriously. Buckle up. This is about to be a rant.

Now. First things first. Is it ideal that the $10 million goalie is currently uh, not doing very good? Fucking NO! I am disappointed as shit with that and I don’t like seeing him struggle. I know he can be better. He has to be better. Obviously.

However. That being said.

Do I think it’s an incredibly stupid look to spend several tweets complaining about all the issues Habs defence have been having, and then also griping that they haven’t started Jake Allen enough for how he’s performing, only to then for some inexplicable reason state that the FIRST THING, the first thing that needs to be dealt with after the new coaching staff have had ONE GAME (and zero practices) to work on things, is somehow “well, the ten million dollar man in net is weighing them down, that contract has gotta go!”?

Yes! That’s stupid!!

I think that’s a very ice cold small-brain take, and not just because Price is my favourite of favourites for as long as I’ve been a hockey fan! I have reasons, dammit!! I put THOUGHT into this!!

Here, dear ppl of Habs twitter who will never read this, are some reasons why this narrative you’re concocting is dumb, and why management/coaching are unlikely to think of trying to ditch Price mid-season to fix the current problems:

1: Time. It has been one (1) game under Ducharme. He has been able to run zero (0) full practices on off days with the team. We just changed up a major piece on the Habs chess board — why don’t you give it a minute to see what fresh eyes and minds can do with this roster before you decide we are fucked? This season is fast-moving, sure, but there is time for us to ride out some little bumps here and still make a playoff spot in this Canadian division. Have patience. Do you remember what patience is? Dom is a new head coach, not a wish-granting fairy godmother. Chill. Do you remember chill?

(rest of this under a cut because I actually LIKE Habs Tumblr, and I want to be nice to you all by not making you scroll past all of it if you don’t want to)

2: Jake Allen exists. There are a couple of things I like for what this means for the Habs. Firstly, for basically the first time in his NHL career, we are not in a situation where if Carey Price is in a slump, we have to go “Ah, shit, so now our options are let his stats tank while he tries to get the groove back in net, OR throw whoever the poor backup is out there to get murdered while we plummet through the standings.... 😬” We don’t have that problem right now, because the backup is... actually good? Oh my god, the backup is actually good! Thank fuck! We’re not doomed. If I’m Ducharme, I put Allen in net for a few consecutive starts to put a solid backstop behind all my fun experiments I’m probably planning with the skating roster (to catch their slip-ups, while also giving Carey lots of time and rest with which to work hard on sorting out whatever his issue is along with the goalie coaches).

2b: Jake Allen exists and is competition. Hell, if I’m Ducharme, maybe I even play a little hardball and say “Look, Carey, I don’t want you to be an expensive benchwarmer, but if things don’t pick up soon I am going to start whoever is doing best and you will have to compete for that net.” Related to my last point, when was the last time Carey Price had to push himself to compete for net time against anything other than his own injuries, and wasn’t simply always the default starter? Has that EVER been a thing? Honestly as much as I love the idea of him being The Goalie for the Habs, I also kinda like this idea a lot because I think it could really push him to a higher standard of performance. Maybe that kind of high-pressure situation (given how much he thrives in the pressure-cooker of the playoffs) could be what he NEEDS in order to Be Carey Price again. Worst comes to worst, he doesn’t respond to that challenge, and I am very sad but the Habs have a good goalie in net anyway, because Hallelujah, Jake Allen exists! God, isn’t it nice to have Jake Allen? Bless him.

3: Money. Guys, this league is so broke right now. Seriously. Seriously. Nobody has any fucking money. The Habs probably have more money than most teams, and that does not help when it comes to offloading large contracts. Trades are a NIGHTMARE both because of the flat cap but also because travel is complicated (especially cross-border) but also nobody wants to trade within their division if possible because all your games are against them. Who in the name of fuck do you think is jumping at the idea of taking the $10 million per through 20-lots-and-lots-of-years-from-now contract of a goalie who is currently struggling, impressive past record aside? What kind of astral plane of fantasy hockey are you on to think there’s a trade out there for that within this season. Shut up. And no, don’t bring up the expansion draft, this post is a rebuttal SPECIFICALLY to the people who think that Price and his contract are the biggest problem that needs to be dealt with RIGHT NOW and first on the list of ways to immediately remedy the team’s struggles.

4: Spite. Specifically to piss you off, bud. You personally.

5: Knowing how to troubleshoot properly. Fellas, if my computer is running slowly and freezing up a lot, do I immediately decide the first step to fixing it is to crack open the chassis, remove the hard drive, and try to sell that hard drive to someone to see if I can enough money back to somehow get a better hard drive for less? No, dipshit. That’s not how troubleshooting a complex system works works. It’s the same with hockey teams. Ah, my star goalie is not performing great. This situation is deeply less than ideal. If you’re actually good at troubleshooting, the first thing you do is not “WELL. I GUESS WE’LL HAVE TO THROW THE WHOLE GOALIE OUT. HE’S TOAST.” The first thing you do, if you’re a smart coach, is you say “Okay, what are my defence doing in front of him? What are they doing to reduce the amount and quality of our opponents’ scoring chances? Oh. Oh, they’re taking a lot of penalties, and... oh, uh, some of this is very not great. Yikes.” And then you start your work by trying to make the defence actually work instead of running the same Pairs That Everyone Is Very Much Over And Tired Of, because your goalie is actually supposed to be your Last Line of Defence. And maybe during that time you give more starts to Goalie Who Is Absolutely Slaying It, so that when you start trying new D-pairs and they inevitably have some mistakes, it doesn’t immediately turn into an Oh God Holy Fuck moment every time, because that last line of defence backstopping them is solid. The reason you need to deal with defense first is because a) You know you have a reliable goalie (Allen) in your pocket right now if you need him. What you don’t have is a whole-ass proven and tested and practiced Backup D-Core you can swap into the roster in front of your goalies to make their lives easier. Fix your defense and it WILL improve your goalies, even marginally. Defrag the hard drive before you ask why it’s not working. and b) If you need to go looking for any new D-men to solve the issues, those are WAY easier and cheaper to find than top-tier goalies, and you always want to start any troubleshooting process with trying the simplest solutions first to hopefully save time and money. The better that D-core is, the less it fucks your team over if the goalie isn’t feeling themselves, because the D is going to stop more of those pucks before they ever even become the goalie’s problem. FIX. DEFENCE. FIRST. Then try to train your goalie back into top form. THEN explore your other options.

6: The vicious cycle. Guys. We literally do this once every year or second year. EVERY time Carey Price has a slump, this fanbase gets into a tizzy like the Bell Centre is burning down and he was the one with the matches. And what ALWAYS happens literally within the year, every single time? He gets his mojo back like he did last summer in the bubble and goes on a heater and everybody goes “JESUS PRICE!!!! 🙌” and is ready to name their firstborn kid after him. Until eventually that performance becomes unsustainable, and he becomes mortal again, and suddenly he’s The Real Problem With This Franchise once again. I know he’s the guy they chose to build the team around instead of a superstar forward, but oh my god folks. You’d think he was the only player on the team. Guys, I feel like fucking Sisyphus pushing a blue blanc et rouge boulder up Mont Royal once a year with this shit. This man’s entire career has been a constant seesaw narrative between “Carey Price is our saviour!” and “Carey Price should be exiled to Nome!!!!” from parts of this fanbase, I swear. Look, slumps suck, but for once we are actually lucky enough to be in a position where this team, for the first time in YEARS, does not solelylive or die by the inscrutable magical cycles of Carey Price’s goalie powers — because when he has to step back and work to get back into his groove, there is FINALLY a SECOND GUY who is GREAT. Honestly, given that the state of this team for so long has been “they will go as far as Carey Price can take them” and he has put in a pretty fucking decent job of it despite all of the team’s other struggles, I feel like it is owed it to the guy to be like “Okay, well, we have somebody else solid to fill the net right now, and a chance to really figure out our defence and special teams with this new coach. Why don’t you take a step back and work your ass off at trying to get back into the form I know you can still perform at, and we’ll go from there?”

Anyway. Some parts of this fanbase have been waiting for a fresh excuse to claim Price is overrated, washed-up, and to blame for all of this team’s flaws and ills ever since he signed that contract, if not since the start of his NHL career. Just unreal how nasty some of this fanbase is willing to be about a player who is ON. YOUR. TEAM.

Am I saying he is beyond critique of his play and can do no wrong and his contract is perfect? No! I want this team to have the best goaltending it can get, and I want them to kick ass and take names. The difference is, I still believe Carey Price is a part of that winning formula, and I also think Twitter is overflowing with idiots who just repeat what everybody else says. He’s still a better goalie than your ass would be if I stuck you out there to stop shots from Mark Schieffle, for crap’s sake.

“The first thing that has to go is Carey Price’s contract 🤪”. Shut the fuck up. You are actively making other people stupider by talking. Go eat sand. Good day.

[fieryanmitsu]

Cream Pie Antidote | A3! NSFW Week 2020 – Day 3 (Itaru/Izumi) | 18+, NSFW

A late contribution to the A3! NSFW Week! I had the rough draft written out during that week, but work got crazy busy, so I just finished this up now!!

But, anyway, when I originally saw the prompts for Day 3 of the A3! NSFW Week, I laughed really hard because the “fuck or die” trope is so campy and hilarious to me. There’s so many crazy ways it can go and it’s mad entertaining. And the idea for this fic immediately jumped into my brain when I stared at the prompt. LITERALLY NO ONE ASKED FOR THIS, but here you go anyway! For your brain cells’ sake, don’t take this too seriously, haha!

CREAM PIE ANTIDOTE

PROMPTS: Masturbation / Fuck or die

CHARACTERS: Itaru Chigasaki, Izumi Tachibana

PAIRINGS: Itaru/Izumi

My fanfic masterpost: Here

AO3: Link in my Blog Menu

CONTENT WARNING: Rated 18+ (NSFW, contains smut/explicit sexual descriptions and situations)

“Annnnd, that’s a wrap,” Itaru said to himself as he finally finished editing his next ‘Let’s Play’ video.

Removing his headset, he pushed himself off his chair and stretched his neck, wincing as he heard a crack. He had needed to spend more time than usual editing the video, so he was exhausted. But, being tired was way better than getting his account reported because he didn’t censor things properly. He still couldn’t believe his viewers had somehow voted for him to play a recently released R18 visual novel. He had a suspicion that someone was trolling him, but he couldn’t let his viewers down… so, he had played through the prologue and first chapter of the ‘Cream Pie Antidote: The Cumplete Edition’.

All in all, the storyline was ridiculous (as expected). The story took place in the year 20XX, where Tokyo was suddenly plagued with a deadly virus that had a 69% mortality rate. However, said virus only affected women and the only known antidote was to inject semen into the infected person’s body, because it apparently neutralized the virus. Of course, the protagonist was an ordinary salaryman who was suddenly thrust—pun intended—into the position of having to help several of his infected female acquaintances.

The voice acting was only so-so, and the background music was appropriate, but uninspired. On the other hand, the sound effects and the graphics were top-notch. He had especially enjoyed the CGs of the protagonist’s next-door neighbour. It definitely wasn’t because she had long, straight, brown hair and bright eyes that suspiciously resembled a certain curry-obsessed director.

Stifling a yawn—it was nearly 4:00am—Itaru hauled himself onto his bed. He was glad he had washed up earlier, because he was beat. Even the titillating nature of the game wasn’t enough to keep his exhaustion at bay. Putting his phone and glasses to one side, he plopped himself down onto his pillow and immediately fell fast asleep.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Hnnng…” Itaru groaned, pulling his blanket over his face.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Ugh, who the fuck is that?” he swore to himself as the knocking continued. Everyone should know not to disturb him on a weekend when there was no Spring Troupe practice scheduled.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

With an annoyed sigh, Itaru slid down the ladder of his bed, stumbled over to the door and wrenched it open, ready to give the person on the other side a piece of his mind.

However, as soon as he opened the door, someone slammed right into him.

“I-Itaru—thank goodness!” Izumi gasped as she caught herself on his chest.

“Izumi? What are you—Hey, what’s wrong?! You’re sweating buckets!” he exclaimed as he realized the young woman leaning on him was drenched with sweat, her thin t-shirt clinging to every curve of her chest. Her face was flushed and her eyes looked glossy as well.

“I-I’m sorry, Itaru. I was trying to be careful so that I wouldn’t catch the virus, but… I-I think I must have picked it up somehow,” she said, panting slightly. “I-I could just barely reach your room… Y-You’re the only one who can help me.”

“H-Huh?” Itaru could only stare at Izumi with wide eyes. He was suddenly having déjà vu. This was exactly what the next-door neighbour had said to the protagonist in ‘Cream Pie Antidote’. He must be dreaming.

“Please help me, Itaru. Pl-Please fuck me and fill me with your cum,” Izumi gasped out, her hands grasping his shirt.

Definitely a dream. Or a hallucination. Maybe he should pinch himself. However, just as he made to lift his hand, his eyes met Izumi’s and he found that he couldn’t look away. Her wet lips were parted and trembling, and her eyes were teary and… full of lust. After all, one of the side effects of the virus was that the infected person became incredibly aroused. He was seriously going to need to examine his mental state when he woke up—he couldn’t believe that he was dreaming up something so disgustingly self-indulgent and wish-fulfilling.

But, well… if this is a dream anyway…

“Are you sure you want me to be the one to help you?” he asked, steadying Izumi with his hands.

“Y-Yes. If… If it comes down to this, I…I want it to be you, Itaru” she replied sweetly, wrapping her arms around his waist, her breasts pressing into him.

“Then, I’ll do whatever I can to save you,” he responded, throwing all sense of logic to the wind. May as well go big or go home.

Pulling Izumi further into his room, he slammed the door shut behind her before he reached out a hand to cup her face. Her skin was hot beneath his palm and fingers—she felt so real. Unable to resist any longer, he leaned down and kissed her fervently. She leaned into him and returned his kiss, pushing her tongue into his mouth. With a groan, he stumbled back and managed to catch himself in his computer chair.

“I-I heard that the most effective method is to make sure you both ingest semen and have it inserted into your vagina as well,” Izumi said as she pushed herself off his shoulders.

Before he could even respond, her hands were on the waistband of his sweatpants. With one smooth yank, she pulled off both his pants and his underwear.

“Wh-Whoa!” he yelped, nearly falling off his chair with the movement, grasping the armrests just in time. Then, Izumi’s hand was wrapped around his cock and stroking it up and down. “A-Ahh!”

“Does it feel good?” Izumi asked coyly, peeking up at him through her lashes as she continued to pump his member with long strokes.

“Y-Yeah,” he choked out. This was better than his imagination. He couldn’t help but close his eyes as he relished the feeling of her smooth hands. Then, he groaned as he suddenly felt a warm, wet sensation engulf him. He opened his eyes and glanced down, letting out a sigh of appreciation as he watched the back of Izumi’s head dip up and down below him.

His grip on his chair tightened as he tried to control his breathing, but Izumi was doing something with her tongue and teeth, and it was driving him crazy. Then, her hand started moving in rhythm with her mouth and he could feel his orgasm building.

“I-Izumi—I’m… I’m going to… come…” he gasped out as he bucked his hips into her mouth, desperate to obtain release. And then, it hit him, and he moaned as he felt his seed shoot out of him.

He heard Izumi’s muffled exclamation, but she didn’t let go of his cock until he stopped ejaculating. As his high died down, Izumi moved back and swallowed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Sorry, I don’t think I gave you enough warning,” he muttered, heart still pounding.

“It’s fine—I’m so glad you gave me such a big load. I’m already starting to feel better than earlier,” Izumi responded. Indeed, she appeared to have stopped sweating at least. “But… I still need you to take care of me… down there.”

Itaru’s eyes widened as Izumi suddenly stood up and stripped off her clothes. He couldn’t help but gape when she slowly removed her panties, because, when she did, he could see her juices drip out of her steadily and splatter to the floor.

“The virus won’t be neutralized fully until you fill me up with your cum… And… I-I’m so, so wet, Itaru… Please, won’t you put your big, juicy cock in me?”

His brain vaguely registered how he had laughed at that dialogue line during his playthrough—but, now, he would be lying if he said it wasn’t affecting him. He was a weak man.

“Get on the couch.”

Izumi immediately laid herself onto his couch and spread her legs, continuing to drip her fluids all over the cushion. He tentatively put one hand on her knee and slowly dragged his palm down her thigh, relishing in the feel of her smooth skin. Izumi moaned at the touch and, as he reached the apex of her thighs, he sighed at how absolutely slick she was under his fingers.

“I-Itaru, please!” she begged, panting hard as he pushed a finger into her. It was ridiculous how easy it was to slip inside her—there was absolutely no resistance. After a few pumps, he slid in a second digit and he could feel more fluids gush onto his hand. His cock was twitching—already erect again despite his recent orgasm.

“I-I need more. Please, Itaru—I want your cock to penetrate me.”

Biting back a groan, Itaru extracted his fingers, giving them a quick swipe with his tongue—delicious, of course. Then, he pushed her legs farther apart and lined himself up with her opening.

“All right, I’m going in now,” he announced. Seeing her nod beneath him, he pushed himself in slowly. He moaned as she enveloped him—she was so warm and tight, and how was it even possible for someone to be this wet?

Izumi moaned and he felt himself growing bigger. Her legs wrapped themselves around his waist and she arched her back, trying to push him deeper inside her. A shot of pleasure coursed through him as he sank further in.

After a moment of savouring the feeling of her pussy around him, he slowly began to pump in and out. With each movement, wet sounds lewdly echoed around them, punctuated by Izumi’s short cries every time he pushed into her.

“I-Itaru! M-More! Please, fuck me harder!” Izumi panted between parted lips. Her cheeks were rosy pink and her hair splayed around her in disarray.

Itaru could only nod as he hooked his hands under her knees and pressed her further into his couch, shoving her legs towards her chest so that he could leverage himself over her. He then thrusted into her, trying to reach deeper inside. Her inner walls were squeezing him, and he could feel the pressure building up inside of him again. He’s never felt this good before.

“I-Itaru, I-I’m coming!” Izumi gasped beneath him. And then, a moment later, she screamed and her walls clenched around his dick and he choked back a gasp. The feeling of her squeezing him was too much, and he knew he would come too. Just a few… more… thrusts.

“A-Ahhh!” he half-gasped, half-choked out as an intense orgasm ripped through him. He could feel his cum shoot out of him with his final push. But, even with the large load that he knew had blown out, he could still feel more. With a groan, he slammed himself into her again, shooting out more of his seed inside her. And then again. Finally, he felt that he had completely spent himself and he slowly pulled out.

“Wow, there’s so much cum, it’s leaking out of you,” he remarked as he extricated himself. His white seed was dripping out of her, as if there had been too much to contain inside. It was all over her pussy lips, mixing with her own fluids, and it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. He had never really caught on to the appeal of creampies, but he thinks he might be a changed man after this.

“I-I shouldn’t let it go to waste,” Izumi responded shyly, reaching a hand down between her legs. She scooped up the excess fluids with her fingers and slowly pushed them inside herself. “I-I want… every… last… drop… inside… me…”

Each of her words was punctuated by a shove of her fingers diving deep inside her, her hips thrusting up with each movement. And, just as Itaru could feel his cock growing hard again, his eyes snapped open.

“Holy shit,” he groaned as he came face-to-face with his ceiling.

After taking a very cold shower, Itaru made his way to the kitchen, hoping to find some leftovers from lunch. As he pushed the door open, a sweet and tantalizing smell wafted past him.

“Oh! Itaru, you’re awake!” Izumi exclaimed, turning around at the sound of the door opening. “There’s leftovers in the fridge—I’ll heat it up for you. Or—I know it’s not really a proper lunch, but I just finished baking something if you want to eat that fresh!”

Itaru’s heart pounded a little faster as he took in her appearance. She was slightly flushed—probably from working over the oven—and her hair was tossed up in a disheveled ponytail. An image of her spread out on his couch briefly flashed into his head.

“Oh? What did you bake?” he asked, distracting himself with the coffee-maker.

“Omi taught me the recipe the other day, so I made coconut cream pie!”

Itaru’s hand froze. A moment later, he resumed the motions of measuring out the coffee grinds.

“Heh. Sure, I’ll have some cream pie.”

“… You know what, I changed my mind. I don’t like that smirk on your face. You’re not allowed to have any.”

I apologize—my brain is only filled with garbage, hahahaha! This idea was just so funny to me, I couldn’t help but write it out. Hopefully you all enjoyed this ridiculous little story, because I had way too much fun writing it! 

I do have one more prompt that I want to fill from A3! NSFW Week, so will eventually post that as well!! As usual, feel free to leave a comment and reblogs are alwasy appreciated! Thanks again for reading!

-Anmitsu

[real-fanta-sea]

MICHAEL APPRECIATION WEEK Day 7: Free choice

For this day, I have prepared something special - this fic was laying around in my drafts for almost a year and I’m so happy to finish and publish it!

The name is The leap of faith and happens after Michael falls to his dead during ending B. It is rather heavy and lacks happy ending + there is a mention of attempted suicide and canon death. It is not graphic, but some of you might prefer not to read about it and I think it’s fair to warn you. Oh, and the pairing mentioned is Trikey. For those of you who prefer AO3, click here to get redirected to the work. For the rest of you guys, just click on “keep reading”. Hope you’ll like it! 😊

The thunder rumbles through the air, vibrating everything in a deep and untamed matter.

“Michael! Let’s just-” 

Michael looks up, trying his best to look tough while somewhere deep inside, he is scared shitless as the same thunder echoes through him. He’s holding desperately, palms sweaty, onto his life. Franklin, holding his forearm as hard as he can, let his mouth gape open in a shock. Finally, a true, fucking human emotion.

A few heavy, ice-cold raindrops dampen Michael’s forehead. This all feels too familiar, he thinks to himself. This time, though, he won’t wake up with a jerk, sweat pearling up on his back. This time, there won’t be anything else than a void, sucking him in. He won’t stare back at steel grey sky as it dissolves into his perfect white bedroom ceiling. Not this time.

Another lightning illuminates his final scenery. Michael peers at depth down below his feet and then back up to a familiar face. Franklin fights with himself - he can see it in his sharp sculpted face. The rain falls heavily now and drenches his cheeks, and the moist reflects red and white signal light high above their heads. How the hell did he end up this way? Here, up above his concrete grave? Up here, hanging down the chimney railing, with this snake of a friend being his last straw between life and death? And then, the sudden realisation washed over him like a cold tide. And then, without a blink or a second thought, he lets go. A pair of hazel eyes, troubled, terrified, torn and lost, sink down into darkness. “I won’t leave you, Mikey!” is a distant echo of a raspy, terrified voice in between the rain and thunder. “I won’t leave you, Mikey!” A fraction of a grin passes Michael’s lips “But hell was I more than ready to leave you…” is his last thought as he lets go and let the gravity pull him down.

“MICHAEL!”

The world slows down with the first agonizing beat of his heart. Raindrops around him freeze in place, fire red and shiny like a scattered bloody diamonds carrying his weight. A flash of lightning illuminates the terrified face above him, hand outstretched, desperately trying to reach for him but also knowing damn well it’s too late. Michael looks around him. Everything perfectly sharp and visible, tinted scarlet and blue, with every edge glowing wildly. The weightless eternity of his existence, just hanging above the ground in between his heartbeats.

Ba-dum

A flash of bright white light blinds him for a second before he realizes where he is. The smell of an old truck, speeding on a dirt road is something hard to forget, especially when the smell attacks his nostrils so violently through an open window. Michael looks around him. The insides of the truck are darkened against the painfully bright sun reflecting the crisp green and warm ochre outside. The fuel tank is almost empty, the gas pedal glued to the floor. A photo of a nameless naked girl printed on a car scent card, swaying in a breeze under the passenger seat. Plush dice furiously swinging from side to side on the rearview mirror. All of this is oddly familiar.

Michael dares a look in the rearview mirror. He stares into a pair of bright blue eyes, full of determination and perhaps a bit of fear. He could swear he knows them too. A strand of dark hair combed back neatly, falls down to them, making him blink and swing it right back. He looks at his hands and sees no ring, only a rim of the leather sleeve of his jacket. Inspecting it further, he sees a couple of sewn symbols as it hangs nonchalantly by the sides of his muscular torso. He grins stupidly as his eyes follow lines of muscles sticking up against a tight white fabric of his tank top. He continues to check himself as the engine roars and hot air breaks apart on his windshield. His jeans are as tight as his top, and sneakers just as worn out as they should be to still be called fashionable. “Wow, this can’t be me” he grins as he checks his face in the mirror again. No wrinkles. No worries. No assassins after his ass. Just a pair of bright, ocean blue eyes and a cocky smile of a kid who hardly knows what future lays ahead.

Michael laughs as he pushes the gas even further, stomping on it like a fucking maniac. The engine groans with pain but accelerates anyway. Suddenly, there is a horn ripping apart the perfect memory. Michael looks into a mirror curiously, frowning his perfect eyebrows, a faint wrinkle haunting his forehead. A second truck, with the same roar and even greater speed, emerges from the turn behind him and by the looks of it, the driver is furious with him.

“Oh shit, here we go again… Just perfect!” he swears below his breath and takes a sharp turn right just as the truck reaches the back of his own vehicle. There is a high pitched screech as the truck turn in top speed, trying it’s best not to fall oven, rolling on only one set of wheels before falling back on all six with an angry thud sound. “I must find the damn plane, it should be around here somewhere, fuck” Michael swears and feels a couple of sweats drops pearl on his forehead. He looks back into the mirror. The truck is behind him. Closing in. There is a familiar shine of a gun in the dark behind the windshield. “FUCK!”

Another turn. Another screech. Sweat. Curse. Heart racing. Heat. Engine roaring. Plane. Where is the fucking plane?

Michael literally flies over the top of a ditch as he desperately tries to land the truck on wheels and not on its side. There is a glimpse of shiny metal in the distance suddenly and his heart races. This is it. Just to get there before the jerk gets him. He bites his lip and stomps on the gas again, furiously, desperately. The metal of the plane shines again as he gets closer and he looks for a man he was supposed to meet. Somewhere down in his guts, there is a fear mixing with anticipation and stirring his insides like a bloody blender. He can’t wait to see him and be saved.

A pair of slender jeans-clad legs twitch impatiently in the shadow of the plane. There he is.

If it wasn’t for a fact he could destroy the plane, he would have never braked so hard and just circle around to get the look again and again forever. He could, in fact, do it - this is his memory so he could do whatever he fucking please - but everything feels too real, including the young man leaned back on the wing of the plane.

Something in his pose is so captivating Michael can not quite put his head around it. The man’s elbows are supporting him, placed on a grey painted wing. Leather aviation jacket with a maple leaf sewn on it, wrinkled on his shoulders which were as wide and strong as his chest showing below his a worn-out t-shirt, yet slender and elegant as the line of his body run down to a perfect waist, accented by a belt of his jeans. One hip slightly raised as he relaxed one of his long legs, probably to even the weight of his heavy boots. Michael inhales deeply and gulped down something that feels almost like… Well, he can’t name it, but the look is captivating. The man looks in direction of the other truck, so Michael has a couple of seconds to study his face. It is framed by a thick mane of brown hair, and aviator shades, too big and dark to see his eyes properly. His nose as sharp as his cheekbones and jawline, with a trace of baby fat still there, giving him a dangerously adorable look. Where Michael loses it are his lips - full and with cupid’s bow curved in a perfectly kissable way, almost unreal for a man to have. Compared to his thin line of a mouth, these lips are angelic. Something deep inside of him awakens with a roar and the feeling of warmth fills him up completely, as he looks at the young man’s face again.

“Trevor…” he hears himself whisper. “T…” as tender as the letter can be, escaping his lips all over again to numb the sharp pain in his chest. What exactly is this feeling? Did he always feel this way about Trevor? Is his dying mind playing tricks on him?

He loses himself in a plump curve of Trevor’s lips for a moment once again before he’s torn from this perfect world with a wild screech of brakes and violent blow of a horn.

“Come out right NOW!” A hoarse voice calls from the other truck as a middle-aged man does his best to get out of the driver’s seat. Michael caught the sight in the mirror. While he takes a deep breath he kicks the door open and jumps out of the truck. 

“What’s your problem, old fart?” he yells, as cocky as he possibly can to cover how fucking frightened he really is, puffing up his chest, putting up a toothy grin and holding onto his hips to appear larger. “Can’t get it up so you drive all the way here to beat my ass for fun?”. The old man clenches his fists, squaring up his shoulders and cracking his neck. Michael blinks a couple of times as he watches the familiar figure step out of the shadow of the truck. As the man moves closer, Michael’s cocky grin freezes and slowly twists into pure horror. The man raises his head and if there ever was a bit of doubt in who it was, it vanished right into a face of the impaling summer sun.

It’s the older version of him. De Santa part of his soul, peering right back at him through a familiar frown with all the self-hate and beast-like cruelty written all over his wrinkled face. Michael’s mouth opens and closes in a shock. Is this who he has become? He can still remember all the things he did in his life as if his old self got caught up in the young body. He remembers, gets glimpses of memories, but it’s not the same thing as to face who he inevitably grows to be. De Santa looks him in the eyes as if he knows exactly what he is thinking about with an evil grin. As fast as he can, without blinking, De Santa raises his gun and points it right at Trevor.

Michael gasps. “What the fuck are you doing, you prick?”

Trevor flinches and presses his back against the plane with a deep growl.

“Put that down or I’ll make a pudding out of your brain right fucking now!”, Trevor utters with the only gun he could retrieve from the plane in a second, which, to Michael’s eternal amusement, is a fucking flare gun. De Santa shows a couple of teeth as he grins at Trevor. “The only thing I want is a second to talk to my little friend here. Don’t be stupid, Trevor, and give me a chance to make things right for both of us” The man with a flare gun raises his eyebrows and lowers the gun a few millimetres before raising it again. “Fuck, I don’t know where you heard my name or who snitched it but I swear to god if you botch this job you won’t see the sun up tomorrow you cake filled fuck face!”

Michael chuckled as he heard Trevor give his older self familiar names. He really let himself go too far to be called fit and made a mental note not to waste his second chance in life to eat the hate away. De Santa seems pleased as well, a heartwarming smile crossing his lips before they are solid and serious again. “Michael, I know what you felt back then, and what you feel now. I know you are going to chase it until you lose interest and leave a broken shell. Wasn’t it your... our favourite pastime after every game? Get a girl, get the most of it for a week and then ditch her without a second thought?” Michael blinks and searches for rusty memories. With eyes wide and lips pursued, he nods. “You see Trevor there? He’s not a stupid cheerleader you can play like a fiddle. Even now, with this badass facade of his, he feels something for you.” Trevor fidgets uncomfortably and Michael catches with a corner of his eye how Trevor swallows and lets his lips part for a second. Fucking Bingo.

“And you feel it too. That is a serious business, Michael.” De Santa pauses to raise his gun again. “You know what happens in future, don’t you? Say a word and decide - should I kill him and let you forget, get a normal life with normal wife and normal kids, the one you’ve always wanted…” he pauses to turn to Michael now, who instinctively raises his hands and stumbles a couple of steps back with a gun pointed at him “or should I kill you both to get this Shakespearean shit over with before it even begins? We both know too well what he means to..to us.” Michael exhales and feels the world slow down once more as he watches a tear roll down De Santas expressionless cheek and turns to Trevor. The wind plays with Trevor’s hair and his hands shake as he throws down his shades. A pair of amber eyes, wide with awe, pierce him with the same question. Growing old with or without him? Can he bear living without his precious punk? Can he let all the memories slip right out of his mind and fill it in with a long line of one night stands and even longer lines of coke? Oh, and why does his chest clench so much? Could it be...love?

Michael inhales carefully and turns back to De Santa, with time raging in the normal speed now. “Kill me. You know too well I could never live without him by my side.” A hot blow of wind carries a sound of a trigger, sudden and unforgiving. Michael blinks and watches a flare screw into De Santa’s eye, as he pulls the trigger too. The bullet licks his ear and jams with a hiss into the truck behind him. A high, blood-chilling scream pierce his ears and adds to wild pounding in his ears. Right before his wide eyes, De Santa’s body is fighting inevitable, hands trying to pull the flare out, only to help it dig deeper. Burned flesh and skin shed dreadful black shreds onto the dirt below their feet. Deep grey smoke fills the air with sweet stench and cries right out of hell. And then, silence and a pair of terrified amber eyes, vanishing into another flash of light.

Ba-dum

Michael opens his eyes to see a mouldy ceiling of a random motel, illuminated with a mix of orange, pink and blue neon light splattered across the room. His body feels hot but exhausted at the same time, gradually allowing him to sink back to full consciousness. He looks around, blinking to get rid of heaviness on his eyelids. Stark naked, his skin shiny with sweat, brilliantly white, glowing with reflections of light as a perfect opposite of the damp dark sheets.

Michael turns to his side, instinctively looking for a pack of cigarettes. He has always had one ready on a nightstand wherever he went and remembers this too well. He has always smoked after sex, he realises with a smug smirk and almost makes it to the pack before a pair of tanned arms wrap around him. A deep “Mikey...don’t leave me” comes from behind him, half snore, half sleep talk. Michael freezes for a second before turning around to make sure the deep, smooth voice belongs to the man he thinks it does.

Just as he remembered, Trevor stretched his arms in his sleep, for once looking peaceful and even angelic in all his content and innocence. He looks like a child, curled up on his side, hair in his mouth, stuck to open lips with a string of saliva. Eyes shut, barely moving, eyelashes long and shaking to the rhythm of his own light snores. “Mikey” Trevor whimpers again and curls even more, clutching the blanket, brows knotting. “Shh… I am right here,T” Michael whispers, and as gently as he can, brushes the lock of hair out of Trevor’s mouth. Trevor smacks his lips and smiles sincerely from his sleep. “I love you, Mikey...”. Michael jolts a bit but tries his best not to wake his sleeping companion. Was this even the same memory, or is his dying mind making a damn fool of him? Has Trevor actually said that? He blinks a couple of times, supporting himself with his elbow on his side as he brushes Trevor’s cheek absentmindedly with his fingers. With wide, serious eyes, Michael observes the goosebumps on Trevor’s arm, showing with each end every careful stroke of his fingers. Trevor’s snores and low mumble gives him the strength to continue down his neck, fingers outstretched, tracing smooth skin below his fingertips. Trevor moans from his sleep when Michael’s fingers gently brushed past his nipple. “You always had a soft spot here, T” Michael whispers under his breath and let his aching heart rule him for once. All the uneasiness and tense are suddenly gone as his tongue circles around his lover’s chest. The skin below him is salty and hot, and the taste lingers on his tongue, driving him mad. His hand wanders down the outline of Trevor’s body, tracing down his abdomen to find what he is looking for. Trevor’s cock welcomes his hand with a jolly throb and fit into his palm much better than he would ever admit. “Mmm” Trevor moans and arches his back, biting his lower lip “so much for sleeping with a horny cupcake beside me, huh?” and greets Michael with a toothy grin “Ready for round two, pork chop?” Michael chuckles, stroking Trevor slowly but firmly “I was born ready, baby” and let himself be pulled into a kiss.

The room dissolves around them as Michael seals his lips with Trevors, and some kind of force pulls them both up, right into the star painted indigo sky. His lips desperately caress and sucks Trevor’s and his tongue explore and swirls with a hunger he has never felt before. Just the kiss, just the taste, just the sensation is enough for him to forget who he became, where he belongs and what he was about to do in a couple of years in this reality. It is just his lips and Trevor’s lips under the moonlight and everything feels right in the centre of this universe.

He pulls back eventually, gasping for air, licking his lips frantically not to waste a bit of the heavenly taste of his lover’s lips, fading back to the stained sheets. Trevor pants below him, lips curved into a toothy, genuine smile he has only seen once or twice before. Michael can not help but smile back, cupping Trevor’s cheek with one hand, running his thumb alongside Trevor’s lower lip. Trevor purrs deeply under his touch, staring right back to his eyes. Michael feels something building up around his heart - a heat that could only mean one thing. “I love you too, Trevor” he exhaled, voice deep with honesty. With a smile, he watches the change in Trevor’s expression, eyes dark and wide, mouth open in shock. “What did you just…” Trevor gulped, tears collecting in his eyes as he crawls away from Michael’s touch. Michael’s chest suddenly hurt as if someone squeezed it. “Shh, I mean it - trust me, Trevor. Just trust me, baby, ok?” Michael whispers with a smile still playing around corners of his mouth, but not as certain as it was a second ago. Trevor jerks and jumps of the bed, retrieving slowly towards the window.

“Why are you always like that, Michael? So fucking full of lies” His voice trembled as much as his knees. Michael’s eyes look his body up and down, and only welcoming part is his dick, twitching, helplessly calling for a fondling hand “Why do you do this to me?”

Michael blinks a couple of times, trying hard to remember what he did to earn this reaction. As far he knows, this was one of those nights they spent together, drinking or drugging, crawling on top of one or the other, riding the hell out of the high, bodies twisted into a hot, sweating mush. It won’t hurt to ask, right? 

“Trevor, calm down. What the hell happened to you?” his voice firm and certainly more annoyed than he had meant it to be. Trevor puffs up, clenching his fists. “What happened to me? WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO ME?” Michael stiffens as a shockwave of Trevor’s angered roar washes over him, leaving him speechless.

“Are you serious? You have a fucking audacity to ask me what happened with that knocked up tramp waiting for you at the altar now? What the fuck am I to you then, huh? Am I just a fun old cheap bitch you fuck after a score? A toy you toss away when it doesn't comfort your taste anymore? Or.. or a dumbass to do all the dirty work for you just for a meaningless fuck?” Trevor’s voice trembles again, but only to gather enough strength to rumble through paper-thin walls again. “I am not stupid, Michael. I can see the pattern. You get high, you tell me you love me, fuck me and then you sober up and get on with your oh so great denial only to do it again and again. You dance around in your pathetic suit pants, killing anyone calling you a faggot! Oh, and while you are at it, you knock up a hooker and marry her just to show everybody you are a good old boobs’n’snatch family guy. Do you want your American dream family with a coke-snorting bitch and a batch of white trash bastards? Well then be my guest and get the fuck out of here, Michael”

Trevor kicks the door open, spitting his name out with a sting of disgust that lingers in the air long after it is said. A familiar blue haze of Michael’s anger pierces right through him and floods his system. With clenched fists, he springs up. “Okay, whatever, dipshit. Just make sure you are not late tomorrow” is what escapes Michael’s lips, without him even noticing. Something constricts his chest as he pulls up his jeans and throws his t-shirt over his head, facing Trevor. There are wet trails on his cheeks for sure, but something dark creeps behind them. Michael looks up to see two broken mirrors of amber eyes, staring back at him. For once, he feels the urge to fight the memory and stay. Stay a little longer. Cup Trevor’s face in his hands and tell him he won’t ever leave his side. Tell him he means what he said and they should elope, riding scooters hand in hand to the sunset. Trevor’s sob brings him back to reality as he approaches him carefully. “Trevor, I’m sorry…” is the last thing he utters before the memory fades in the familiar explosion of white light.

 Ba-dum

Michael blinks as he opens his eyes, looking around. He hardly recognizes the surroundings - judging by the scattered tombstones, people hunched down dressed in black and a thick layer of snow, he is somewhere up north, and on a goddamn cemetery. With all the white around him and heavy snowflakes falling down from a steel-grey sky, he should have been frozen solid at least 15 minutes ago, but somehow, he feels fine. Weightless even. There is something odd in a way people pass him by, without noticing him standing there, walking right onto him “Hey, watch it!” he hisses as an old lady walks right through him, leaving but a swirl of air where an outline of his torso was a second ago. Her sniffs and crunches of fresh snow under her shoes fade out into a deepening silence. She didn’t even notice, did she?

Michael looks at his hands, terrified. They are... translucent? What the hell happened to him? Is he a ghost? Michael’s eyes widen and his mouth fall open. Did he die already or what? With a deep breath of crisp air, he once again raises his head and scrutinizes his surroundings. His head feels like it might explode with all the wild ideas and questions swirling inside it. Has he ever been here before? The place seems familiar. Why is he here? Is it somehow significant? Michael inspects the closest tombstone on his right and chuckles lowly. Of fucking course. This was his grave. Michael fucking Townley’s grave.

This is where the boy from the nameless Canadian airfield lays along with his dreams and ambitions, dressed in his old football gear. What’s left is a ghost, a memory, levitating in the air, thinking about what went wrong with his life to end up like this. Hated, hunted, betrayed by a man he considered his son, left by the one he called brother. 

A muffled sob from behind him makes him jump and turn around. A tall man in a stained thick coat looks right trough him and brushes his nose with a hand dressed in an old fingerless glove. Michael stares at him in awe - what the hell is Trevor doing here? If he is right in his assumption and the grave is still too fresh, the place would be swarming with FIB agents, waiting for those stupid enough to come his grave. Michael raises his hands to place them on Trevor’s shaking shoulders, but in his new form, his palms go right trough them only to fall back to each of his side. “GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, TREVOR!” He tries as a feeling of panic raises within him. The taller man not even flinch. “TREVOR!!!”

The only answer he gets is the sound of teardrop crash landing in the snow beneath his feet. It is the first time Michael notices the broken posture and his shaking chin, with a stream of tears flooding it. It is the first time he sees Trevor truly broken. It is the first time he sees what Trevor meant when he told him he loved him.

“I know you hate it when I’m crying Mikey, but I… I just can’t help it” Trevor uttered in a high, shaky voice. “I’m just so sorry!”. Michael instinctively jumped when Trevor fell to his knees where he would stay if he had a real body, not holding back anymore. “I’m so sorry Mikey! This is all my fault!”

Even in his current form, Michael’s chest tightened. He has never admitted he hated to see Trevor cry only because it hurts him a great deal, and now with his closest friend kneeling broken on his alleged grave, the pain comes uninvited and sits on his back as heavy as a fucking mountain. 

“If I… If I stayed... if I was the one who helped Brad you could…”

“No, Trevor. If you stayed, you would be dead. Don’t blame yourself for my fuck ups.”

“It’s funny, I can almost hear you now, you know?” 

Michael freezes on the spot. Could it be... “Trevor, T, can you hear me?”

A low chuckle escapes Trevor’s mouth before it is muffled by sobs once again.

“Yeah, I know, it’s bullshit. Of course, I cannot hear you. I am just imagining things, I guess... I just want to hear your voice once again. I want to hold you and kiss you one last time. Remember that time,” Trevor blows his nose and takes in a deep breath, finally getting a grip of his crying “Remember when we stopped by a lake in the middle of nowhere, and you wanted to go swimming? How we planned to stay for a night but ended up camping for a whole week? I’ve never told you how beautiful you are in the morning light - I just called you a fatso then and you smashed my head with a pan.” Corners of Trevor’s mouth twitch with a shy smile upon the memory. Michael just watches him, desperate to hold him close and never let him go. Of course, he remembers the summer of ‘89 and the glint in those amber eyes whenever they watched him. He remembers the bubbly laughter, flat beer and the smell of campfire in Trevor’s hair when they made love.

“Remember how we drank so much we started slow dancing at midnight and the sky reflected in your eyes? That was the first time I told you I love you. You laughed and shrugged it off. But I meant it then and I mean it forever.” Trevor’s tears easily tear down his weak self-control and make his fists hit the ground with crushing force. “You told me I had no idea what love is, but I do, Michael, I DO!” A sudden yell made a couple of other people increase their pace and turn around in fear. “AAAARGH, I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH MIKEY IT TEARS ME APART!! I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT YOU!”

Only now that Trevor hunched over the grave has Michael noticed a rope, resting stuffed into one of Trevor’s coat pockets. Oh no. Oh fuck. What is he going to do? Is he really going to… “TREVOR!”

The man in question just let tremors run through his body, hunched over the grave.

“TREVOR! DON’T TELL ME YOU WANT TO HANG YOURSELF!”

The only answer is the man slowly rising to his feet, chin pressed to his chest, dirty hair falling to his eyes.

���T, PLEASE, I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!”

Trevor turns his gaze from the tombstone to an oak and its bare branches, standing mortified in the far end of the cemetery.

“NO, T, DON’T DO IT! I AM RIGHT HERE, PLEASE T!”

Corners of Trevor’s mouth twitch in what could be a smile, but Michael knows deep down it is relief. With the love of his life dead and gone, the world turning its back on him, with no future whatsoever, Trevor wants to go down the path of the last resort, the path Michael dreads.

“T, PLEASE!! I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU PLEASE DON’T!”

An easy, tired smile settles on Trevor’s lips. 

“Today is different, Mikey. I think I really hear you now - it is as if you said you loved me and wanted me to stay. But we both know I can’t love a whisper in the wind. You are here now and in a second you are gone. As always.”

Trevor takes a few steps, crunching of the fresh snow piercing the darkening sky.

“I want to be there with you, to see you and feel you the way you let me when we were young and high.”

Snow under Trevor’s feet listens in fear of what is it about to witness. Michael reaches out but fails to get hold of his friend once more. Trevor’s shoulders tense for a second before relaxing once again with a heavy sigh.

“Please don’t try to stop me, Michael. I have nowhere else to go. I need you.”

Trevor’s steps grow frequent as he inevitably approaches the tree and halts right in front of it, his fingers brushing over the smooth cold bark.

“Goodbye, Mikey. For now. I’ll see you in a few.”

Michael’s panic rises to levels he didn’t think were possible. He knows he can’t help Trevor, he knows he can’t reason with him but fuck him if he does not try to save him.

His eyes frantically search for someone, anyone he could call and alarm. The cemetery is almost empty. The only sound is the soft swish of snowflakes and screeching of Trevor’s boots as he climbs the tree to fasten the noose. There must be someone here - Michael knows his grave is the perfect moth trap - and fuck him if he’s wrong but there is a familiar figure leaning against the metal fence. “Oh shit, it can’t be…”

Dave Norton has just returned from his afternoon break with a cup of steaming coffee and a fresh issue of Los Santos Times when a strange touch of ice-cold air on the scruff of his neck makes him shiver. It’s not like he’s not used to long hours in freezing temperatures, but this one is oddly different. He puts down his cup and traces the back of his neck with hot fingers, but the snowflake he is searching for is nowhere to be found. “Oh well, whatever. Just a wind.” He thinks as he grabs for a cup when is suddenly tumbles over and spills all the coffee into the snow. In many years he has been an agent, Dave learned not to be surprised by a lot of things. Tax evasions, sex scandals, terrorist threats. It all shaped him in a twisted way and let him harden enough to act cold and precise in any situation he happened to be in. But this shit, it surprised the fuck out of him. He didn’t even touch the cup! There is absolutely no logical explanation of why it would bounce up and spill like that except for something grabbing it and letting go. Suddenly, the cold sensation was back and made little hair on his neck stand up in fright. Turn around. Look behind you. Turn around and look now. Those words bounce inside his head as if it was a pinball board and someone stubbornly added more and more balls to it. His head throbs, fighting the intrusion to no avail. In one bright flash of white light, a simple sentence appears right before his eyes: Turn around PLEASE!!

Ok ok, he’s turning NOW and… oh shit…

Michael has never felt this spend and tired in his life. He can barely see the outline of his own ghostly body now as it slowly dissolves into the void. Even if he wanted, he would barely give a fuck with the scene right before his eyes.

Dave stands below Trevor, forcing him up and back onto the branch. Trevor’s reddened face is damp with tears and his voice is hoarse when he shouts at Dave and begs him to let go, kicking a couple of times. Dave grabs for his gun and cuts the rope with a couple of shots that echo through the dark and bounce from one grave to another. Trevor falls into the abused snow below him with a loud thud and curls up in a fit of pained cry that makes Michael feel like shit. It is all his fault. The dark purple ligature mark in place of Trevor’s future “cut here” tattoo screams at him accusingly what his own mind has offered him so many times he stopped counting.  He always put himself first and made people who cared about him miserable. If only he could lay beside him if only he could comfort him, if only he was given a chance to tell him how much he loved him, how much he cared, how sorry he was for things to come to this end. His final thought before he dissolves in the crisp air is of a pair of warm amber eyes looking up at him with so much love and care it makes him shiver. “Please forgive me, T.”

 Ba-dum

A flash of bright white light led him back to his body this time. A roar of thunder kick-started the time. The shining diamonds of the raindrops hit the ground with a final splash before glazing the concrete with a red light covered wet coat. Up above him, Franklin curses. What a nice kid. “I forgive you,” he thinks as he braces himself for the impact. “I have the death I deserve” When Michael feels the cold touch of death on his back and draws in his lasts breath, the pure white light shines back in time with his racing heart, each flash brighter than the one before. All the pictures of his life run before his eyes - the first time he saw Trevor, the first time they kissed, the birth of Tracey, her first laugh and first uncertain steps, Jimmy’s first words, years of denial, broken promises drowned in whiskey and his recent flashbacks. He is about to die with a regret, Michael notes with a bitter taste on his palate - and that would be to make all of this right. If only he was strong enough to see past his beliefs and just let things happen as they were meant to be. If only he could turn back time, hug Franklin and let him handle things the way he wanted, call Amanda and let her go figure out her own happiness, give his children enough money to go to college and live on their own and then run into the pair of arms he sorely missed. If only he could tell him how sorry he was and how much he truly meant to him. He would hold Trevor close right there, in his ramshackle, grim-soaked trailer, stroke the summer heat out of his hair and whisper his feelings right into those beautiful ears. Yet another strike of thunder reminds him of what happened in the cemetery and the last teardrop escapes his eye and slips down his cooling cheek only to join millions of its kin on the ground as he exhaled one last time.

I love you, M. “I love you, T.”

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Could you describe the relationships in the ploysquad? Separate and together?

OOOOH buckle up this is going to get long!  I’m sticking to the individual relationships just with Amy because otherwise this would be a 10 page essay lmao

(also none of this applies to the last chapter because they’re idiots)

(ps I’m sorry that this has taken literally forever to reply to lmao, I wrote most of this essay then saved it in my drafts then forgot to finish it!)

OT6: To start, there’s a reason that I refer to them as ride or die!  They’re extremely loyal to each other above anything else, and the phrase ‘ride or die’ is their way of reminding each other of that promise.   They’ve found a family with each other and they’re determined to protect that at all costs.  They very rarely separate — even their sleeping arrangements are usually “crash at whoever’s trailer is empty” or “crash in the jeep”, but the idea of one person crashing somewhere without the others is basically unheard of for them.  The sexual aspect of their relationship started out of some trauma and due to their inability to communicate, it’s not necessarily the healthiest, but none of them know that yet.  Amy’s abandonment issues do come into play as the others start dating outside of the group though.  They’ve always had an agreement that they can date outside of each other as long as at the end of the day they’re still coming home to each other, but those lines start to get blurred and Amy gets the shit end of that deal.

-

Amethyst & Sweet Pea: Soulmates, of course.  Amy and Sweet Pea are… complicated, tbh.  These are two chaotic dumbasses who have been in love for their entire lives but are both too scared of pushing the other away to say anything so they literally get married before they confess their feelings and that is an actual canonical fact.  They love each other more than anything in the world and would do absolutely anything for each other.  Sweet Pea was the first person to ever say “I love you” to Amy and the first person she ever said it too.  Anyone who sees them together for even half a second assumes they’re together because they’re just that close (literally and figuratively)

Also this is a conversation between Amy and Kevin in this coming chapter which describes their vibe!

“(…) You and Sweet Pea are different than you four as a group.”

“He’s my person,” Amy said softly.  “He was the first person to ever say he loved me, back when we were little.  He knew me first, he knows me best, we’re just… closer.  And he doesn’t mind that I’m super fucking needy, you know?”

-

Amethyst & Jughead: The smartest idiots you’ll ever meet.  Honestly I love the two of them so much but they are absolutely idiots when it it comes to their emotions.  When they work together they can probably take over the world in seven hours, but it would take seven centuries to talk about their feelings.  They’re my semi-enemies to friends to lovers ship tbh - the very first time comment Jughead makes about Amy in canon is “We’ve met.  Never ends well.” and the last thing he says in canon is (to amy) “as long as we stick together, we’ll be okay”.  They’ve known each other since they were kids because of FP being a father-figure to Amy and they really hated each other but within two days of meeting her properly Jughead is ready to throw hands with anyone for her and vice versa.  They’re honestly just really soft and I love them with my entire heart!

-

Amethyst & Fangs: angel chaos babies!  Fangs brings out a soft side of Amy that no one else really does – she tends to be softer with him than with anyone else and she also lets him be softer with her than anyone else is really allowed to be.  He’s the one (along with Joaquin) that she’s most open with about her emotions and the one she most trusts to keep a secret.  Fangs ended up joining their group later than the others and was extremely vulnerable at the time and it made Amy feel more comfortable being vulnerable around him than anyone else.  Overall they’re soft babies who also love to cause chaos and can usually be found being super soft and adorable or plotting world domination

-

Amethyst & Toni: Amy and Toni tend to be a bit messy tbh!  They love each other so much but they both have very strong opinions and zero chill so they’re also the most likely to end up in explosive arguments, and neither like to admit that they’re wrong.  Toni tends to be the best at reigning Amy in, particularly when she’s in manic mode, but is also the most likely to say the wrong thing and set Amy off (and vice versa).  They’re soft and supportive girlfriends who love each other more than anything they’re just also both opinionated and sometimes take things as an attack that aren’t because they’re both used to being shut down by a lot of the older Serpents

-

Amethyst & Joaquin: oooh okay this is actually one of my favourite dynamics!  Amy and Joaquin didn’t become friends until they were young teenagers, but their friendship started when Joaquin was the only Serpent who stood up for Amy when Tall Boy and some of the older men were being absolute creeps (note: FP was never there when those situations happened and Amy never tells him bc she’s terrified of him not believing her).  Their relationship started off as entirely a survival instinct but they became very close very quick, and they know thing about each other that they’d never tell anyone else.  They also get each other on a level that the others can’t, which stems primarily from the fact that they have both been made to feel like their entire worth is dependent on their sexual availability ever since they were young.  Unfortunately I haven’t been able to bring Joaquin back early because if he was there then half of the plot would disappear because he understands Amy and can actually get through to him.  They love each other and trust each other so much, and they even have real actual healthy communication skills!

[hallie-fics]

author spotlight - still_i_fall

He wants to forget how it felt to be hers for just one second.

- remember it’s all pretend @in-my-head-i-do-everything-right

one of the most prolific writers in the hallie fandom, @in-my-head-i-do-everything-right (still_i_fall) has graced us with classic after classic. i had an absolute blast talking with her, and hope you all enjoy the interview!

q&a

Hey! Thanks again for including me in this! Very excited to answer the questions. I love talking about myself. 

Favorite of your stories (and why)

I almost got stuck on this question. I really want to say remember it’s all pretend because I am so incredibly proud of that one. It was the first multi chapter fic that I ever properly finished and I feel like that really means something to me. I also really love that concept, and how it was able to fit in slowburn and enemies to friends to lovers and mutual pining plus a million other little tropes. And, most of all, it was really fun to write. It happened really easily. It’s something I’ll go back to sometimes if I’m ever in the mood to reread my own work. 

But I also love this new thing that I just wrote called i just wanna dance with you. I think if I can pull it off, it could be something really amazing. I was able to write the first chapter in about a week and had a ton of fun doing it. And I really love writing Harry’s pov and just switching things up a little. Ugh, I really love the idea of hallie meeting/knowing each other as little kids and I think that’s pretty apparent in these two fics. 

Easiest story to write

I’ll stop the world (and melt with you) happened really quickly which I guess qualifies it as easy to write. I thought it’d be more difficult just because so much of it is dependent on canon which is something I’m not entirely used to, but it ended up going to fast. I think somewhere I still have a page of notes on that Prom episode and everything that happens to Allie and Harry. I really wanted to include pieces of dialogue from the show. 

I also think it was because I used to do this thing when I was bored where I’d think about who I’d want to be trapped in a Groundhog day like loop with and what’d I’d do. It was just this recurring thought/ daydream I had when I was younger so it’s definitely a situation that I’ve thought through a little. 

Hardest story to write

The taste, the touch, the way we love has been a pain in the ass to write right from the start. Sometimes it’s really fun, but I think I’ve been sticking way too close to the outline I drew at the very start and have been avoiding writing it for too long. Sometimes I absolutely love to write it and have the time of my life, and other times I hate it. There’s not much of an in between. Still definitely want to finish it. Just waiting on that final bit of inspiration. 

Pre-writing process

I’m all about doing a full outline. Usually. With most longer fics (anything I think will be over 6,000 words), I do a full outline where I plan out the progression of the fic and specific scenes and pieces of dialogue. Usually, the plot hits me all at once and is usually the easiest part of the writing process for me. From that original outline, I usually have at least a few specific scenes fully planned out with pieces of dialogue and/or exposition. For example, for i’ll stop the world I started out the planning process with the introduction piece of the fic. That first paragraph is straight out of the note apps on my phone. A lot of the time it’ll end up being a bullet point list of main bits. I’ll use parentheses to specify the tone of a scene or little details and then use brackets for things that I want verbatim in the fic. 

But sometimes I end up with very little pre-planning. The skating au is kinda the only good example of this. I only had the roughest of outlines for that one (how i wanted the first chapter to start and end) and everything else just came together as I tried to get from point A to point B. 

What drew you to Hallie

The potential. They could have a really great story and I think that’s fun. There’s a lot of chemistry there and their dynamic is fun and, yeah, I think I’m a little too far in to get out now.

Favorite line (or lines)/ section you’re proud of

God, I have so many. Hope you don’t mind me going through them. It’s incredibly self indulgent but also gives me an excuse to go through my old works.

From the very first hallie fic I ever wrote, how you wish it would be all the time:

“And Harry's not perfect. He's not what she wanted before this all started or even really after, but everything's different now.”

Sometimes I forget about this fic, but I really shouldn’t cause there is a solid chance that this was my peak. And this line is really fun. 

From we kiss and we keep busy:

“The stars may have moved a little bit, but they’re still there, and they still look the same, and that’s good enough for her.”

I promise I’m not going through every hallie fic I’ve ever written but god I love this line. 

From i saved a picture where your hair was braided:

“It’s late nights and long talks and video games and cookie dough. It’s almost kisses, then definite kisses, and then not wanting to wake up anywhere but his bed. That’s how she starts to fall in love with Harry Bingham.”

Just that last part. That last line. The rest is just there for some fun context. Fun fact: this entire little mini fic was a desperate attempt to stave off writer's block and is based entirely around that single line in the song Donna by the lumineers. Still had a lot of fun with it, though.

From remember it’s all pretend:

“He wonders when she’ll realise that this hasn’t been pretend for him in years.    Probably never.    (He’d still run away with her.)”

“In the back of her mind, Allie wonders why she didn’t try harder to stay with Harry, why now she can only seem to fall in love in front of a camera where there’s the promise of pretend.”

“She likes to think that they’re still friends, that they’re just friends who don’t talk anymore, two people who drifted because one couldn’t handle the idea of change.”

This fic has a million little bits that I love. I could literally go on forever. It’s just full of that mutual pining angst that I live for. 

From but i close my eyes and i’m somewhere else:

“She did not mention this earlier because she was trying desperately hard to ignore it, but fuck, she’s really missed him calling her Pressman.”

“She wonders if Cassandra has any travel sized neck pillows.”

This fic is surprisingly good seeing as I don’t remember writing it at all. I was very much high on some sort of flu medication while writing this and I think that explains a lot about this fic. It’s fun, though. I really love the tone.

From the taste, the touch, the way we love:

“She starts to feel like she couldn’t avoid Harry if she wanted to (and somehow, as the days turn into weeks, she finds herself not wanting to more and more).”

“There’s saltwater in her eyes, hair, and mouth. Harry’s leaning back in it, floating. She is too. The water is blue, and warm, and the sky is clear. Sometimes his hand will grab hers just to pull her closer. When she thinks of calm, of happiness, and vacation, she’ll think of this moment.”

“They’re quiet for a moment. Maggie Rogers can be heard in the background, faded and slow. Harry’s tapping his fingers along to it on the wheel, eyes staring straight ahead. The road is lined with trees, and it all feels like home.”

“For a half a second, she thinks she loves him. She pushes that away and watches him throw wrapping paper behind him dramatically. She pushes it away and she smiles and she laughs and she tries not to think too hard about what all of this means.”

This fic definitely has its moments. I’m really excited to get the last part done and out, though. I just feel like I’ve spent too long on this fic. I want it done.

From i just wanna dance with you:

“Allie met Harry the same day Cassandra did. It was early in the morning and she was four and now, when she looks back, all she can remember from the moment is the vague outline of wild hair and a smile so bright and wide and carefree that it really can’t be anyone else’s.”

“She tries to remember that she likes skating with Will, that there’s no point in wondering what it’d be like if things were just a little bit different.”

“She lied earlier; gold, silver, bronze, doesn’t matter. Harry always looks good.”

“The first time he ever placed first in a competition, she was skating with him. He wonders how long he’ll associate the feeling of a gold medal around his neck with her hand in his. He hopes it’s not long. “

I’m so excited to finish this fic like you guys don’t even understand. It’s really fun and it feels easy to write (so far; knock on wood) and I love the concept. 

What type of Hallie stories do you like to write/read?

I only write au’s just because I think the rules are little different, everything’s just a little bit more relaxed. You’re allowed so much freedom when it’s a completely different universe and I really love that. I went through a phase recently where I was obsessed with canon divergence and this whole idea of a history of contingency. Just there being these points or moments where if one thing was just a little different, everything would’ve changed. I love that and I think that’s really apparent in my drafts/ unreleased wips. 

I’ll read anything, though. Especially with the Hallie ao3 page being so small. I do definitely have a preference still towards au’s, though.

How long have you been writing

For forever. As a kid, I’d fill up entire notebooks with story ideas. It was my favorite thing to do. When I was twelve, a teacher complimented my writing, and I think that really stuck with me. It’s just something I’ve always enjoyed doing. 

Do you ever worry about how your stories are received

Not really. A little bit with multi chapter stories just because I really want every chapter to be better than the last. I just really don’t want to disappoint anyone. 

What’s the hardest part of writing for you

The middle bits. I usually have a very clear idea of the beginning and end so it’s everything in between that I have trouble with. I think that’s why I’m so big on outlining.

Do you ever get writer's block and how do you deal with it

Oh my god all the fucking time! Right now, for example. Usually, I just try to work through it, especially if I have a project in progress. I also do a lot of reading to try to force some sort of inspiration. A lot of what I write is based on what I’m reading. I’ll also listen to music. And, recently, I’ve been making mood boards for my fics which has been so much fun. I really like looking at pretty pictures.

Biggest risk you’ve taken as a writer

Lol I don’t really take risks. I think the riskiest thing I do is post the first chapter of a story with none of the second chapter started. I do that a lot. 

Favorite Hallie trope

Reluctant friends to very good friends to lovers. Also, living together without establishing a clear relationship. I write that a lot. Mutual pining is always fun too. 

Favorite Hallie headcanon

That Harry calls Allie ‘Pressman’ which forces Allie to call him ‘Bingham’. I just think there’s something so fun about calling someone by their last name. Plus, then you get that moment when the first name is used and that gets to be significant. Oh, also that they both swear like sailors, but that’s mostly self-insert on my part.

This felt very self indulgent, but I hope it was at least somewhat enjoyable for someone. 

I am forever waiting to read whatever @in-my-head-i-do-everything-right writes next. It was great to see some of the behind the scenes and I would definitely recommend her latest release cities you’ll never see on screen.