#it’s not the trope itself that is bad is all I’m saying

[orchidego]

Miscommunication trope has become unfashionable to love but it’s easily my favorite. First of all. Mutual pining. Star-crossed morons. I can’t bear the alternative, really, which is an uneven amount of pining—I need them to be in equivalent headspaces, but narrative tension still needs to exist somehow. Second, this trope can be done extraordinarily well (how I know is I’ll usually have a bodily reaction—stomach swoop! reverberation in my chest!) which I suppose makes the badly done ones stand out.

Miscommunication or fear of communication happens all the time. It’s very true to life, even with people who are good communicators, but here the stakes are so high. This tension is where all that pleasure (for me, the reader) comes from.

Further, “just talk to each other” no. When the stakes are this high the communication deployed needs to be wielded like a scalpel. Delicate, precise, ….whatever. Or, an explosion. Something desperate. It’s not regular communication. It’s fraught with meaning. It matters more to them than it would to anyone outside the dynamic. The consequences of failure seem cataclysmic. Words fail. Words fail all the time. When you feel that much and you just can’t pin it down. See I’m already gearing up to pine. It’s that easy!!

[gghostwriter]

Camaraderie

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer and some unwanted guests catch you singing at a bad time Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.1k a/n: something short n’ sweet, get it? i know i said i was sick and I still am but i wanted to really write something based on this post so i did and since I’m still battling the flu, this isn’t my best work nor has this been edited but still posting it for the fun of it all! Hope you like it. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗

Spencer Reid was never one to forget. After all, his near perfect memory didn’t allow him to, which was a curse and a blessing on itself. So it came to everyone’s surprise when Morgan came strolling in the BAU office after hours to pick him and Luke up for a scheduled boys’ night out and the boy genius innocently asked what he was doing there.

“No way,” Morgan chuckled, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Pretty boy has forgotten something? It must be my lucky night ‘cause this only happens once in a lifetime.” 

“You really forgot?” Luke clarified as they all packed into Morgan’s four door vehicle. “Oh man, I thought you were pulling my leg a while ago when I brought it up and you made no comment.”

“It really slipped my mind!” Spencer’s voice going up in defense. 

The duo laughed. 

“Or maybe you’re getting old,” Morgan needled as the car came to a stop at a red light.

Spencer shook his head, wishing to drop the subject. “Hey, do you mind passing by the apartment for a bit? I didn’t tell her that I was going to be out late since it you know, slipped my mind—”

“Can’t you just text her for that?” Morgan argued back.

“—and I’ll drop off my dirty go bag.” 

“Oh got the missus doing the laundry?” Luke teased. 

“She’s not my wife yet,” he sighed dreamily. If he was going to be honest with himself, he was looking forward to it. He had half the mind to propose elopement when got down on one knee but the excitement you radiated off when discussing about themes, dinner placements, and the wedding gown was enough for him to dispose of that idea quickly. It didn’t matter how fancy or how long the planning would take, as long as at the end of it all, he got to call you his and you get to call him yours. Everything in between was just lavish wrapping to present the world Mr and Mrs Reid. 

The car came to a stop, bringing him out of his musings. 

“Thanks Morgan,” Spencer started to exit the passenger seat. “No need to go up, I’ll be quick.”

They both shook their heads, also stepping out—Morgan from the driver’s side and Luke from the side beside him.

“We’ll say hi to the future Mrs Reid,” he patted his back as the trio packed into the elevator up to his floor.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders in acceptance. With your busy work schedule and the upcoming nuptials, it was a rare occurrence for anyone from the team, expect for Garcia, to catch even a glimpse of you.

Echoing melody was the first thing that greeted them once they stepped out of the lifts. 

He laughed under his breath, already knowing that it was coming from the home you both shared. It had been a ritual for you, of sorts, as the only neighboring apartment was empty from tenants. There was really no one to scold you for making any ruckus at this acceptable 7pm time. Spencer, for one, wasn’t one to spoil your fun. He loved seeing you be free, dancing around in his clothing and singing the lyrics no matter how off key. 

Key slotted to the door, he let themselves in without any words exchanged—just looks and laughter under their breath.

—and I’m obsessed Are you free next week? I bet we’d have really good

Spencer admired your swaying form from behind. Wearing his Caltech tee that was three times too big for you, neckline slipping off to one shoulder. His very own personal sunshine chasing away all the darkness that had tainted his very being. 

Unaware of your audience, you belted out the next cheeky lyrics. “Come right on me, I mean camaraderie. Said you’re not in my—” 

Luke slapped his mouth to stop his chuckle from escaping while Morgan’s eyebrows raised at an all time high.

“Love,” Spencer urgently called out.

“—timezone, but you wanna be—eek!” You shrieked, turning to face the voice of your lover, only to find two more unaccounted for in the audience. 

“Hey pretty girl,” Morgan drawled out. “That’s some nice singing you’ve got there.” 

You felt your face flush with mortification. Out of all the people to have caught you, it had to be Morgan. The self titled big brother who liked to tease all he held dear to his heart. 

“W-what are you all doing here?”

Spencer reached out to give you chaste kiss on the lips. “We’re going out for a boys’ night out and I forgot all about it.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re all here exactly.”

“I was just going to drop off my dirty go bag and they wanted to say hi,” he smiled at the embarrassment he could clearly see written in your expressive face. 

But i bet we‘’d have really good bed chem How you pick me up, pull ‘em down, turn me ‘round Oh, it just makes sense How you talk so sweet when—

“Oh my god,” your feet pattering on the hardwood floor as you ran to stop the vinyl still playing in the background. “Not one word,” you threatened the duo with a finger raised up high.

They both raised their hands up in defense but mirth was clearly painted on their faces. This was definitely becoming a lethal ammo perfect for quips and teasing. 

“Okay, you three out,” you all but pushed them out to the lobby. “I need to bury myself in copious amount of wine and please, forget everything you saw, okay, and Spence—” you leaned in to give him a kiss goodbye and squeezed his hand that held yours. “—I’ll see you when you get back. Have fun!” 

The door slammed shut without another word uttered.

Morgan turned to Reid with a smirk on his lips. “So camaraderie, huh?”

“Shut up,” Spencer quipped back, giving him a slight shove towards the elevator.

But before he himself stepped into the awaiting lifts for a night of no doubt teasing and innuendos, Spencer sent a quick message back to his other half with cheeks red and a grin on his face.

Your wish is my command, love. Later. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[randomsufff]

You know what I really need in fanfics? More confession scenes where one person drops the confessions then runs, fast as fuck, in the other direction.

Like, obviously they’ll meet back up eventually and talk about it (which is hilarious in itself that they would have to sprint to catch up while yelling why they’re like this) , BUT THINK ABOUT IT!!! It 1) give the other person a chance to gather their thoughts so the person confessing doesn’t have to sit in anxious silence and 2) allows the confessor to get it over with quick and overcomes that anxiety over confessing. Also it’s just fucking hilarious.

Like imagine your fav paring or whatever, they get to that part where one (or both idk) realizes their feelings for the other but they’re just anxious to be vulnerable like that or they fear rejection, whatever. One of them suddenly goes, fuck it, and they turn to the other. (Maybe they’re on a sidewalk, maybe they’re in a park IDK endless possibilities here) and they go:

“ok I’m about to say something, it’s nothing bad (I hope) and I’m willing to talk about it after I say it. I’m 100% serious, this is really not a joke. But I’m going to say this and run to (relevant location). Ok? Ok…. Don’t freak out… iminlovewithyou” *Cue maniac SPRINTING as fast as humanly possible in the other direction* (Bro I’m cracking up just typing about this)

AND THEN!!! You get to chose how they react after a few stunned seconds. Do they sprint after them? Do they shout to bring their ass back over to them? Do they race like hell to beat the other at the determined location??? I don’t know, but it’s hilarious as fuck and can transition seamlessly into heartfelt feeling talk.

(Thinking about this with specific ships is funny as hell too)

Idk I think of more fics had this trope we could all have a grand ol silly time instead of accidentally speed reading through confession schemes because the stress is too much then having to go back and re-read it to fully process it, as one does. You know?

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

im curious, why do you like fiddlestan?

i like them in theory (all the pain potential, jeez!) but i feel like i'm missing something very obvious

Oh boy, you’re about to open pandoras box with this one -

I’ve liked fiddlestan for a LONG time, almost a decade now, (EXHIBIT A!!!), and honestly, I’ll admit that the ship is mostly based on speculation. So maybe you’re not missing something obvious, maybe I’m just delusional. I can’t speak for everyone, all I can do is explain why I like it: because it’s deeply rooted in several layers of irony. 

It’s ironic because fiddleford spent the better part of a YEAR dealing with fords nonsense. (And I KNOW, it’s not all bad, but really, especially if you read journal 3, that poor man was put through a LOT. He was definitely taken advantage of, at LEAST a little.) And after grappling with the acceptance that your longtime friend and unrequited love will never return your feelings, having lost the man to some crazy otherworldly nightmare machine, who shows up?? But his TWIN BROTHER who’s HUMBLE and KIND and TEN TIMES MORE DOWN TO EARTH?? It’s ironic, because they don’t know each other, yet they both have years of history with the same person who’s wronged them, and, they can make out about it!! THEY CAN FUCK TO SPITE HIM!! Stan stole his brothers name (and committed multiple crimes under said name), stole his house, and stole his research partner!! And… it's ironic because it’s Grunkle Stan and old man Mcgucket. That needs no elaboration.

(these are all my personal takes/headcanons! Like I said, this ship is based solely on interpretation, so I’m sure a lot of fiddlestanners like fiddauthor too. There’s like a billion different ways to interpret this ship.)

Also -

Their personalities are surprisingly similar when you stop and think about it!! You put those two in the same room, and they’d come up with some highly devilish scams together. They both have moral codes that are a little… ambiguous. And… I can’t believe I’m gonna pull this out as *canon fiddlestan documentation* but these are the kind of crumbs we’re working with here: MABELS DREAM IN THE SOCK OPERA CREDITS!!!! Although it’s not something that actually happened, and it’s just a reference to statler and waldorf, they are IN CHARACTER!! I think this is how they would actually act together if they were friends!! Just two old dudes, hanging out together watching tv, making fun of whatever they’re watching. If you’re in the room, you might get roasted too. Just a couple of old farts. It makes me so happy to think about. 

No fiddlestan rundown post would be complete without the fandoms EXTREME STRAW GRASP at Old Goldie and the Flame Retardant Raccoon. Soos calls mcgucket a “prospector guy,” amongst the other obvious comparisons you can make between fiddleford and goldie. Goldie is something stan used to like a long time ago, but he’s all old and fucked up now, best to throw him away and forget about it. BUT, as it turns out, there’s still good in that old thing after all. SO LETS GET MARRIED IN VEGAS!!!! It’s an extreme stretch, but… It’s a fiddlestan trope that they, at some point, have a crazy night of fun+romance in vegas together.  And I personally like to think that they return when they’re older+happy and tie the knot for reals. The raccoon speaks for itself - it’s one of the ways you can compare stan to a raccoon. And of course, mcgucket's raccoon wife. 

This is where it starts to get a little angsty, and if you “get all the pain potential” then you may have already given this some thought - but why does stan treat fiddleford the way he does if they used to love each other? The whole “UGH, this guy” comment in land before swine, looking all uncomfortable around him in fight fighters, choosing the spot furthest from where mcgucket lotions himself at the pool, and the “possum breath” comment in the last episode (and fiddleford actually has the mental clarity to look perturbed after he says it). Stan is hurt!!! He’s upset!! If they used to be a Thing after the portal incident, something must have happened between them for fiddlefords mental illness to get the better of him, and for him to choose to erase both stan and ford from his memories. I, personally, think that it was deep rooted internal homophobia (being raised in the south, that runs deep), and being scared for getting too close to stan. They were getting too comfortable, and that scared him. What about his family? And tate? His son can never meet stan. He can never let his wife know. And all the paranormal fuckery incidents leading up to this that already weakened his mental state, the portal incident, already having zapped his brain a few times, would have sent him over the edge. So I’m thinking they would have gotten into a fight of some kind, and fiddleford would have stormed off. Thus leaving stan having to live in a town with the person he USED to love, who doesn’t remember him at all!!! What!!!!! That sucks!!!! Only upside to fiddlefords memory erasure is that it makes it easier for stan to pretend nothing ever happened. But it’s still not easy. Also, if word ever got out that old man mcgucket used to be his boyfriend, he would never be able to live it down. So he compensates by being an ass towards him. Fuck. 

But then!! If fiddleford has the chance to heal!!! (say… maybe… when the twins are on the stan o war II) then stan would come back to gravity falls and see fiddleford looking like the person he knew thirty years ago!!!! WHAT!?!?! CAN’T RUN FROM YOUR PAST FOREVER, CAN YOU!?!?! And you KNOW fiddleford would remember what happened with stan. How long can stan keep himself in denial?? And now we’re opening up the can of worms: how the FUCK does this information reach ford?? That your brother used to canoodle with your research partner and might STILL BE?? That has so much potential too. 

Ok I wasn’t expecting to write those last two paragraphs but it’s A BIG PART OF WHY I LOVE FIDDLESTAN!!! It’s a crazy fucking rollercoaster ride!!! This thing has so many angles!!! And that’s just MY fiddlestan interpretation - I’ve seen a lot of different takes on the sort of story that would transpire between these two. But no matter what you’re cooking, It’s always a LOT. 

There’s probably so so much I didn’t touch on here. If anyone else wants to throw in their two cents as to why they like fiddlestan, please, add something!!!

[amourdyke]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ✷ 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄 𝐋𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐄

pjo fanfiction 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐚 𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✷ your father wouldn’t approve of how my mother raised me but i do i think i do, and you’re an all-american girl i guess i couldn’t help trying to be your best american girl ✷ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ooc clarisse, aphrodite’s daughter reader, fake dating, angst and pining

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

The words escaped her mouth before she could fully comprehend what was happening. Big bad Clarisse La Rue with a temper to mimic boiling water and the fight skills to ward off teasing has finally been a victim to it irredeemably as lies slipped past her lips spontaneously, unthinking.

“You had a girlfriend this whole time and none of us knew? Yeah, right, Clarisse, you’re full of shit”

“She used to date a Hephaestus chick, alright? Didn’t want anyone pointing out the whole history repeating itself trope of Aphrodite and Ares” A part of her is proud of her trope, a child of Apollo worthy storyline invented last minute, it seemed to not occur to her the way specifics would bite her in the ass until her sibling’s eyes sparkled mischievously, pointing towards the other end of the bonfire at a female figure she had not seen before, though apparently the only one who seemed to match characteristics.

“You mean to say you’re dating angel face over there?”

Your eyes caught hers for the first time in that moment, setting ablaze something at the pit of her stomach that had seemed to lay dormant far too long, hence the beginning of the relentless conversation she found herself in in the first place. “Yeah, that’s her, my girl��� she concurs, taking a sip of her drink and staring off into your figure like a predator.

You first met Tori before you were claimed. She would sneak into the Hermes cabin to give you midnight kisses and hide freshly made jewellery she forged instead of armour under your pillow for surprises, adorning your neck in both purple bruises and metal chains, her own special claim on you. Until your mother showed face. It burned you to remember how she spoke, as though not knowing you, like Aphrodite you must be your mother’s daughter. A cheater, she meant. You still dreamed that your only claim was Tori’s kisses and necklaces on days like these where you watched her by the bonfire avoid your every glimpse.

And then someone’s grip is on your arm.

“I wonder what could the most infamous child of Ares possibly want with me” She raises her eyebrows at the nickname from you, someone she had not acknowledged nor recognized before today though the opposite could clearly not be said, the beginning of a smirk ghosting over her features.

“Is that what I am?”

“Don’t play dumb, Clarisse, it’s not your best look, you know exactly what you are, it’s your charm, that is if you’re into the whole bully chic thing”

“I need a favour from you” She wastes no time and you scoff in response, your eyes still seeking out Tori, anxiously hoping she does not see any of this interaction as to not play out scenarios in her head. Clarisse takes none of it. She grabs you by the chin, in a firm yet surprisingly careful hold and forces you to face her, wide brown eyes with a beauty you hadn’t quite recollected before seeing its warm specks up close like firecrackers trapped behind her irises. You shake off the thought and cross your arms.

“Why would I do you any favours? I bet you don’t even know my name, hell, I bet you don’t even know who I am in general–”

“You’re my girlfriend”

“I beg your pardon?” You nearly choke and Clarisse laughs.

“I’ve been watching you. You’ve been staring at that raven haired Hephaestus girl for the last forty minutes uninterrupted while I can quite easily point out at least six girls who have been drooling to get your attention in the last sixty and you haven’t even spared them a pity glance, so I’m going to guess that’s your ex?”

“What does that have to do with anything besides the fact you’re apparently a fucking stalker?”

“Feisty, angel face” She snarks “I need a girlfriend to get some people off my back for awhile and you apparently want your ex back, so why don’t you use that tiny love focused brain of yours and think for two seconds what makes someone temporarily lose their senses and say, get back together with their ex?”

“You want me to use you to make Tori jealous?”

“Do you really have anything to lose?”

You watch her train, that’s your first date, and it starts off as uninteresting as you guessed it would be. Until she’s flexing a little too much, and you’re catching on, of course, but it’s working, because you’re suddenly focused, mouth agape as she lifts up her shirt exposing her perfectly sculpted abdomen to clean sweat off her forehead with the orange cloth.

“Having fun gawking?” She teases.

“Isn’t that what you brought me here for?”

Clarisse twists her spear around in the air and finally settles it behind her flexed arms, moving towards you as she looks around the training grounds for something, eyes sparkling at the sight of a similar weapon to hers “You know how to fight, angel face?”

“I’m a demigod, Clarisse” She feigns fright at your words before rolling her eyes and moves to throw the spare spear towards you, which you take in hands overwhelmed. She steps back and motions you forward which for whatever reason you comply, before you know it her breath is hot on your neck, a whisper: “Your little ex is watching”

She wasn’t entirely truthful. Tori was there, but she barely spared you a glance. Clarisse’s siblings however watched her every move, and she was preparing a spectacle. Positioning herself behind you, hands on your waist as to fix your stance, she dismissed the way her fingers seemed to physically burn at the sensation of your skin desperately seeking out to touch you more and focused on pointing your aim at the dummy before you. It strikes him right in the heart first try and falls backwards on itself. You’re beaming. Clarisse’s chest squeezes. She forgets to let go of your love handles until you turn around.

“You look pretty when you’re deadly” She casually lets out, a sigh.

“Did Tori see your hands on me?” You look around, an attempt at casually catching your exes eye. You miss the way Clarisse frowns when she agrees nonchalantly. One of her siblings winks, she thinks to herself this was too much trouble.

“Okay I think that’s enough performing for a day”

“You’ll hurt me this way, princess. Can’t stand me that much? I don’t get it, did I dunk one of your friends on the toilet or something?”

“I don’t understand”

“Playing dumb isn’t your look either” Clarisse mimics your first encounter as she stares daggers at you. She looks like she could see right through your soul and it sends shivers down your spine.

“You really don’t remember me, huh?” You scoff, and Clarisse is furrowing her brows and attempting to dive into her memory but you’re quicker to refresh it “My first year here I was like a lost and kicked puppy. And you were the girl who killed the monster who nearly killed me and actually killed my satyr protector. I guess it was just another day for you but it was my worst nightmare and you were a fucking knight in shining armor, I thought so anyways. I followed you around for months, and what does it say that you didn’t even know my name until two days ago? You are probably the one most self centered person I have ever met and I was a stupid little girl with a crush who thought you could save me while you actively terrorised everyone who was nice to you. Including me. And you don’t even remember taunting me, because it was just another fucking wednesday. So maybe I’m not enthusiastic about playing your girlfriend for longer than I have to”

It suddenly dawns on her, the memory of you. You looked different now, she guessed those were some perks of growing up as an Aphrodite kid but staring at your face, hurt expression, made the resemblance uncanny. To the one person she regretted hurting. She had just lost a fight and you had ran after her for comfort, but Ares had seen it. So there was nothing you could say. She wanted someone to hurt like she was hurting as though it would take her own pain away. She lost the fucking fight because she looked for you in the audience as she was winning. Affection made her weak. She made you pay for it.

“You called me a stupid girl who doesn’t know when to leave people alone and that’s why no one could stand me. Ring a bell?” You turned around to leave when Clarisse was silent. She surprised herself when she spoke up.

“Well let me teach you to hate me less!” She called out, running her hand through her curls frantically “We can’t do this if you don’t stand the sight of me, my siblings won’t buy it, your ex girlfriend who knows you certainly won’t either. Let’s go out and talk and maybe you’ll like something about me, I don’t know”

“Why does it matter so much to you that you have a girlfriend? Why do your siblings care? Answer me this and I might go with you”

“Fucking Gods, you’re insufferable” She mutters “Because I’m tired of being the one with no life, okay? All I have is training, and everyone knows that and I hate when they start worrying so I need anything to ward it off and I guess relationship maybe screams reason to live and not dying to be a war martyr so this is what I got, okay? It’s stupid, but it’s what I got”

“Alright”

“Alright?”

“I’ll try to like you, Clarisse”

She leads you to the forest in the middle of the night as to not alert anyone. The moon is full and it lights up her face in a way that softens her usually rough features. It is strange how your hands meet eachothers halfway in a hold until you reach your destination, a lake surrounded by flowers. You’re taking off your clothes, stripping into underwear before Clarisse could even fully process it, her eyes widening at the sight of your unbuttoning jeans reaching your calves, then the floor.

“Aren’t you coming?” You say as you stumble into the water. She watches you, the same way she had at the bonfire, and feels guilt pool at her throat for the way she gazed at your body. Clarisse wants to put a word to her feeling and all that comes to mind is hungry. She feels hungry. Like she could bite into your skin and tarnish its softness, like she needs to.

She takes off her clothes as well, skin still hot despite the cold air embracing her suddenly. You watch her too, she notices. Though she can’t pinpoint the look in your eye as she walks into the lake and heads towards you, stopping until your chests barely touch. There’s unusual heavy breathing from the both of you, hypnotised. You’re sure you won’t speak of it tomorrow.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m trying to find things to like about you, work with me here”

“I like red. Like blood”

“Like love” Clarisse doesn’t bother to reply to your argument, but it makes a part of her shake. War and romance unfortunately have too many things in common, she notes to herself.

“My turn. Why do you want your ex back?”

“Because she was good to me. She was kind and soft and she liked me. I miss feeling like someone cares like that”

“Aren’t you Aphrodite’s daughter? Doesn’t that sound a little like the bare minimum? She’s good to you? She’s kind? Didn’t she stop being those things when it ended?”

“You don’t know anything about relationships, Clarisse, you’ve never had one. I’m difficult, I’m a cheater’s kid, I’m–”

“You’re beautiful. Breathtaking, like your mom. Maybe that’s the only thing you got from her. You can aim. You’re strong. You’re apparently vengeful at least towards me which in my books is an attractive quality, you’re witty and you get little crinkles around your eyes when you laugh. I’m going to guess you didn’t cheat on that ex of yours so you’re not an asshole, for sure not a cheater. You give people chances when they don’t deserve it. I’m not quite following what could be so damn difficult about you”

You stay silent for awhile. Thinking. She hates herself for not knowing what it is that you think, and regrets saying so many things in your quietness. Then you whisper something she doesn’t catch and she asks you to say it again and in clear noise it sounds as shocking as it did when she first thought to have tricked her ears: “You never had a relationship, have you ever been kissed?”

Clarisse shakes her head no.

“Can I kiss you?” You correct yourself as you lean in, placing a curl behind her ear “Just in case we need to do this in front of your siblings or Tori, so we’re ready”

“Right” Clarisse mumbles as her hands snake her way around your waist pulling your body closer to fully press against hers “Just in case” she finishes whispering before her lips finds yours. There’s more desire than you both thought there would be. It’s desperate. Messy. Tongues clashing and chests heaving. She wants to taste you forever. She thinks she’s screwed.

[seobstarr]

Eternal Sunshine

pairing!: Non idol!Sunghoon x fem reader

genre!: angst, a little nostalgia, and a pinch of fluff that you’d have to use a magnifying glass to see it.

trope!: second chance

prompt!: After a bad argument that resulted in sunghoon angrily racing out of your apartment, he begins to worry about you when you don’t respond to any of his messages the following days after the fallout. When he figures out that you’ve decided to erase him from your mind forever, he makes it his mission to get to you before it’s too late.

warnings!: profanity, arugements, breakups, crying, descriptive writing panic attacks, mentions of disassociation

songs!: eternal sunshine- ariana grande, imperfect for you- ariana grande, talk- beabadoobee, saturn- SZA

Sunghoon hadn’t known how they had gotten to where they were.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows in the living room. The couple both stood on opposite sides of the room, their faces flushed with frustration and anger and the remnants of their latest argument hung in the air casting a palpable tension between them.

"This isn't working, Sunghoon!" Y/N exclaimed, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation, her heart aching with words unsaid; unable to say under the daunting cold stare of her longtime boyfriend

"We can't keep doing this. We can't keep hurting each other like this."

Sunghoon ran a hand through his brown hair, his eyes darkened with frustration. "And whose fault is that, Y/N? You're the one who always picks fights over every little thing. You’re insufferable!" Y/N knew that Sunghoon was sometimes like this. After a year of dating, of intimate moments and arguments like this she had known what Sunghoon had up his sleeve and in his books.

Sometimes unreasonable, like a rampaging ape, he would make no room for explanation or justice. Y/N flinched at his words, her eyes widening in hurt and discomfort. "Insufferable? Is that really what you think of me?"

Sunghoon threw his hands up in exasperation. "You never listen! Every time we have a problem, you just keep pushing and pushing until I can’t take it anymore. It's like you enjoy making things difficult. Like you get some sick pleasure out of seeing me frust"

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, her voice breaking up at the sound of sunghoons words. Her heart had filled itself with somewhat of a burning esaperated ache, sending signals to the waterline of her eyeballs "I push because I care, Sunghoon. I push because I want us to work, because I want us to be better. I push because I know you won’t and I know you’ll return to loving me like you didn’t do something that hurt me. But it feels like you’ve given up."

Sunghoon shook his head, his voice softer but no less intense. "I haven’t given up, Y/N. But I’m exhausted. I’m tired of feeling like nothing I do is ever enough for you." The words hung between them, the weight of them sinking in. Everything sunghoon did was enough for her. All the times he had cared for her, had sat beside her in silence; just for company reasons, the sick days they had spent together. Everything that Sunghoon does, even if it’s just standing in the middle of a room, was more than y/n couldve asked for.

After a long stale silence Y/N took a step back, crossing her arms as if to protect herself from the sting of his words. "So what are you saying? That you don't love me anymore?" Sunghoon's face softened, a flicker of regret in his eyes. "I do love you, Y/N. But sometimes, love isn't enough. Sometimes, we just aren’t good for each other." Y/N felt a tear slide down her cheek, her heart breaking at the realization of his words. "So this is it, then? This is how it ends?" Again there was a silence, the cars outside the open window on the busy street seemed to echo in the darkened apartment.

Sunghoon's shoulders slumped, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. After a breath to calm him down he began to speak "Y/N—”

Y/N swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. "Maybe you're right. Maybe... maybe we need to let go."

The silence that followed was deafening, both of them absorbing the finality of their choice as Y/N spoke with a firm halted voice; the lump of sobs in her throat beckoning to come out. Y/N felt a hollow ache in her chest, the pain of losing someone she once believed was her forever. Loosing someone who she had thought would be the last person she’d see when the light had left her eyes. Sunghoon took a step towards the door, hesitating for a moment. His hand laid on the handle and without saying another word he walked out unable to make sense of the situation. Y/N nodded to herself as she watched as Sunghoon leave, the door closing behind him with a quiet click that echoed throughout the empty room.

The sobs that had been threatening her came out distant, almost as if it had escaped her throat without permission. The weight of the moment hung heavy in the air, pressing down on her chest like a boulder, making it hard to breathe.

A numbness creeped into her limbs, spreading slowly, paralyzing her. Her mind raced, replaying every word of their conversation, every painful syllable that had led to this moment. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor, the cool wood pressing against her skin through the thin fabric of her pants. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold in the pieces that felt like they were falling apart, trying to desperately hold the remaining lingering touches he left on her in the previous days.

Her heart pounded erratically, each beat a painful reminder of what she had lost. She had never known that a heart could physically ache, but now as it did, she understood every clichéd song, every poem, every tear-stained line about heartbreak. She squeezed her eyes shut, but that only made the tears spill over, hot and relentless, carving paths down her cheeks. She tried to wipe them away, but they just kept coming, an endless stream of sorrow that she couldn’t stop. Her mind flitted back to the good times, the laughter, the shared secrets, the warmth of his touch, the whisperings of sweet nothings as they laid beneath the sunday morning sun. She remembered the way his eyes would light up when he saw her, the way his arms felt like home. Now, every happy moment seemed like a cruel joke, a setup for the devastating situation she was presented with.

The hours passed in a blur of tears and pain, the world outside moving on while hers stood still. Every sound seemed too loud, every shadow too dark, every breath too hard. She dragged herself to bed, curling up under the blankets that still smelled like him. and his softly fragrant cologne. She buried her face in his pillow and had shared her tears with the white satin cover. Her silent sobs continued until her body was exhausted and as she drifted into a restless sleep, the playful memories of Sunghoon and her faded in and out of her head.

Sunghoon had hated this distance. In the three weeks they had been apart, his body seemed to ache for her. His restless sleep seemed to take the form of the dark bags under his eyes and every night was a struggle, his mind replaying their last argument, the hurt in her eyes, the choked down shaker voice that she presented to him and the words he wished he could take back. The words he wished she had taken back. He had been stubborn, prideful, and now he was paying the price for it.

He wandered through his apartment, each corner filled with memories of her. The couch where they had spent countless evenings watching movies, her head resting on his shoulder. The kitchen, where they had danced to old songs while cooking dinner, laughing when they inevitably messed up the recipe. The bed they had shared, where they whispered secrets and dreams to each other in the quiet moments before sleep.

Sunghoon picked up his phone, scrolling through their old messages, his heart clenching with each sweet word and shared joke. He remembered their first date, the nervous excitement as they sat across from each other at a small café, sipping on coffee and talking for hours. He had been captivated by her smile, the way she lit up when she talked about her passions. They had walked along the river afterward, hands brushing until he finally gathered the courage to hold hers. It had felt like the beginning of something magical.

He closed his eyes, letting the memories wash over him. The weekend getaway to the mountains, where they hiked during the day and cuddled by the fire at night. The spontaneous road trip to the beach, where they played in the waves and collected seashells. Every moment had been perfect, every experience richer because she was by his side.

Sunghoon’s chest tightened as he thought about the night of their argument. He had been so frustrated, the stress from work boiling over into their conversation. He had said things he didn’t mean, his anger masking his love for her. He had seen the hurt in her eyes, the way she had tried to hold back tears. He wanted to reach out, to pull her into his arms and apologize, but his pride had held him back. Instead, he had walked away cowardly, the silence between them heavy and oppressive.

Now, he regretted every word, every moment of stubborn silence. He missed her laugh, the way her eyes sparkled when she was excited, the feeling of her hand in his. He missed the way she understood him, sometimes better than he understood himself. Without her, everything felt dull and lifeless. The world seemed less vibrant, the colors muted.

Sunghoon sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew he had to make things right. He couldn’t bear this distance any longer, couldn’t stand the thought of living without her. He grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. He knew she wouldn't dare be at her own apartment, that wasn’t like his lover he knew. He knew she had to be out, maybe working extra hours at the local library or even at the mall to distract her from the feelings that ached her at night. He would need to go talk to her two friends if he wanted an exact location.

As he walked, he thought about all the things he would say. He would tell her how much he missed her, how every moment without her felt like an eternity when he did find her.

The streets were quiet, the evening air cool against his skin. Sunghoon’s heart pounded in his chest, a mix of fear and hope. When he finally reached the rented building of her friends, he paused, taking a deep breath before knocking.

Jake answered, his expression immediately turning wary when he saw Sunghoon. “Sunghoon?”

“I need to talk to you guys about Y/N,” Sunghoon said, trying to keep his voice steady. Jake stepped aside reluctantly, allowing Sunghoon to enter. Isa was sitting on the couch, and she looked up with a frown as he walked in.

“Sunghoon, this isn’t a good time,” Isa said, her voice tinged with frustration.

“I know you’re not happy to see me,” Sunghoon began, “but I need to find her. It’s important.”

Jake crossed his arms, standing protectively by Isa. “She doesn’t want to see you, Sunghoon. You need to respect that.”

“I get that I messed up,” Sunghoon said, his frustration bubbling up. “But I need to talk to her, to make things right. Please, just tell me where she is.” Isa and Jake exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them then finally, Isa sighed and looked back at Sunghoon, her eyes filled with a mix of pity and anger.

“She’s trying to move on, Sunghoon,” Isa said firmly. “You need to let her go.” Sunghoon had saw the worried stare they had held between eachother and a strong uneasy feeling washed over him, his patience wearing thin. “You’re hiding something, i see it. I’m not here to play mind games, i’m here to figure out where my girlfriend is” He urged. Isa and Jake sighed before Isa had opened the little cabinet below the coffee table, pulling out an envelope and handing it to the taller in front of her.

“we got this in the mail yesterday," Jake said, breaking the awkward silence as Sunghoon examined the envelope. Sunghoon sat in disbelief as he stared at the envelope his friends had just handed him. It was plain and unassuming, yet Sunghoon had a sinking feeling that whatever was inside would change everything.

"What is this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He was frozen from fear, and the feeling of impending doom that washed over him, His hands tremble over the open slit that was already made by the two who sat in front of him. “I…I can’t open it.” It was getting harder to breathe. The tension in the room grew thicker. Isa’s face softened with sadness, and she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. Jake stepped forward, his expression grim.

“She’s…she’s erasing you, Sunghoon,” Jake said quietly. The words hit Sunghoon like a punch to the gut. “What do you mean, erasing me?” disbelief painted his mouth thickly, like oil paint. “She went to a clinic,” Jake explained, his voice heavy. “They specialize in erasing memories of someone the client wants gone. She’s trying to forget you, Sunghoon.” He finished and Sunghoons stomach twisted inward, his throat holding back the nausea he’d experience.

In almost a second his eyes dart down to the document that explained the procedure and the precautions necessary to find the shipping address below the signature “Sunghoon…” Isa tried to explain, maneuvering the blanket that covered her lap to stand up. But Sunghoon wasn’t listening, her words like fuzz bled into his ears. The surrounding areas around him had became almost uncannily non-existent and the envelope in his hand had became moist from the sweat his palms had produced. A piercing continuous beep had replaced the muffled voices of jake and isa and the tv that sat in front of the three for background noise, all he could think about was her.

About the procedure, about the feelings her would forget when it was said and done. Jakes hand had snapped him out of the reeling disassociation his mind had made him experience “Are you alright?” Jake had asked worryingly, but Sunghoon just replied in a cough and without another word, he bolted out of the apartment, his heart racing. He had to reach her before it was too late.

Sunghoon stood outside the clinic, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He had run the entire way, his mind racing with disbelief and desperation.

The clinic loomed in front of him, its sterile facade a stark contrast to the chaos inside his heart. He pushed through the double doors, his eyes scanning the waiting room frantically, barely taking in his surroundings as he made his way to the reception desk. “I’m looking for Y/N L/N” he said breathlessly. “Please, I need to see her.”

The receptionist looked up, her expression professional but slightly wary. Her hesitation became greatly known to Sunghoon fast. He knew he looked crazy, almost insane by the way the older womens eyes dialated with fear. His hair had been disheveled and the cold crisp air of winter had painted his nose a bright Rudolph red from all the running he did “I’m sorry, sir, but—”

“Please,” Sunghoon interrupted, his voice cracking. Something in his desperation must have reached her, because she nodded slowly. “She’s in Room 3” Sunghoon sprinted down the hall, his footsteps echoing loudly. He reached the first floor to where “room 3” was plastered in bold font on a hanging sleek sign and took another 4 big strides before throwing the door open, his eyes landing on Y/N, who was lying on a reclined chair, electrodes attached to her temples.

“Stop!” he shouted, rushing to her side. The technician operating the machine paused, startled by the sudden intrusion “You cannot be back here!” Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, confusion and sadness swirling in them as she looked at him. “Sunghoon?” He closed the distance between them without a second thought and in a few strides his chest was heaving. "I know what you're about to do. Please, don't go through with this."

Y/N’s gaze hardened, a protective shell forming around her vulnerability. "Why do you care, Sunghoon? You said it yourself—sometimes love isn’t enough." Sunghoon’s face contorts with regret. "I know what I said, and I was wrong. I was angry and frustrated, but that doesn’t mean i should’ve treated you like that. Please, let’s talk about this."

Y/N shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. "Talking isn’t going to fix this. We’re broken, Sunghoon. We hurt each other too much."

He reached out, his hand trembling as it cupped Y/N’s cheek. "We can try to fix it. We can learn from our mistakes. But erasing me, erasing us—it won’t solve anything. It’ll just leave us emptier than before."

Y/N closes her eyes, leaning into his touch despite the almost burning frustration she felt from doing so. "I can’t keep living with this pain. Every memory, every moment we shared, it’s like a sword had punctured my lung."

Sunghoon’s voice cracked, desperation seeping into his words. "If you do this, we’ll lose everything. The good memories, the laughter, the love. Please, Y/N, don’t let go of us this way." She took a deep breath, her voice trembling. "What if it’s too late? What if we can’t fix this? What if you can’t forgive me for doing this?"

Sunghoon shook his head, his grip on her hand tightening. "I would never hold this against you, you’re vulnerable Y/N, I would never take advantage of you like this. It’s never too late. We can start over, we can rebuild. But we need to do it together. Don’t, Y/N. Please.” Y/N looked between Sunghoon and the panicked doctor who was on the phone with security, wastefully debating between the comfort of forgetting and the pain of holding on.

Sunghoon's footsteps echoed softly on the deserted platform, the early morning mist curling around his ankles in a cooling breeze. He adjusted his scarf, trying to fend off the biting chill of the ghostly morning, and scanned the horizon for the first hint of dawn. He loved these quiet moments, when the world still asleep, it coddled him in a warm sense of possibilities. But today, an uneasy feeling gnawed at his usually calm demeanor, something the train platform rarely gave him.

Y/N stood at the other end of the platform, her breath forming small clouds in the frosty air as she tried to find comfort in the cold crisp air. She shoved her hands deeper into her coat pockets, seeking warmth and comfort. The train station felt like a ghost town, a stark contrast to the noisy chaos that usually accompanied her mornings.

Both of their eyes met across the platform, and for a split second, time seemed to freeze. There was something eerily familiar in Sunghoon's impatient colding gaze, something that tugged at the edges of Y/N's memory. But before she could dwell on it, the loudspeaker crackled to life, announcing the arrival of the next train.

Sunghoon hesitated, then took a step toward Y/N, meeting her in the middle of the trains inside "Hey," he said, his voice sounding strangely loud in the quiet almost empty train. "Do I know you?"

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. "I... I don't think so," she replied, though uncertainty laced her words. "But you seem familiar. Have we met before?"

Sunghoon frowned, searching his mind for any recollection but no memories had seemed to reenter his consciousness. "I don't think so. But... I have this weird feeling that we have. Maybe in another life or something."

Y/N chuckled, a soft, wistful sound. "Yeah, maybe. Or maybe we're just two strangers on the same train." She joked, earning a small laugh from the taller.

footnotes!.

keb notes!: HEYYYY SO LIKEE…I do not like this piece at all lolz 😆. I feel like it was rushed even though i spent 2 months on it, the formatting is off and most of all, i honestly just feel like i did an ASS job at writing this whole thing but i love ariana grande so i had to put this out there..also…MY ASS DID NOT GRAMMAR CHECK THIS SSORRRYYY😭😭

if you couldn’t tell this us based off of the 2004 movie “Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind” it’s honestly one of my favorite movies and when one of my favorite artists made a song referencing the movie in her music video i knew i had to write something ab it lol😭

This is also my first ever enhypen fic on tumblr!! I’ll be posting a jake fluff to compensate for this fic tho…

[cripplecharacters]

Hi, I’m concerned about whether there is anything regarding disability that are strictly off limits for abled author to write about. For example, I know it’s meaningless for an abled author to write about what it means to be disabled, or the disabled experience. Is there anything else that would be infringing on boundaries & risk speaking over actual disabled authors? I know including non-POV disabled characters who just happen to be disabled are fine with proper research. But I feel as if I might be treading some risky ground here because I have a POV character who is disabled. Regarding that, I want to know if some things are off limits if I am abled myself (such as their personal feelings regarding their disability - it’d be odd if I didn’t mention this at all since they’re a POV character, but I don’t know to what extent/if i should explore this at all, especially since it’s a result of injury).

Hi!

Outside of the examples you gave ("what it means/how it is to be disabled") I don't anything is strictly and always off limits for abled writers in general because disabled people will have such a wide range of opinions* on this that it'd be impossible to know what you can and can't do - it's better to just do it well and thoughtfully if you do decide to go for it.

*Examples: I know disabled people who don't want people without their disability to write characters with it at all, no exceptions. I really heavily dislike abled writers putting their disabled characters through nightmarish levels of ableism because it feels like torture porn or at least as exploitative. Someone else will be fine with abled writers doing literally anything. Some people see all non-OwnVoices representation as inspiration porn. Disabled people are too big and diverse of a group to come to a specific consensus.

There are areas where I think they should be more careful, like in stories where a character suddenly becomes disabled, as that can easily turn into a plotline that focuses on how disability is bad due to the missing nuances of such an experience. Even putting aside that there's a ton of room for factual errors on how recovery or just the medical side of things in general looks like, I feel like it can be difficult to write this kind of plotline in detail if you don't have experience in it. For this kind of things, I believe that sensitivity readers are a must if you want it to be a major part of the story. If it's a minor one then I think it can be okay, especially if you aren't going into the emotional nitty-gritty of the whole process much.

There's also the obvious topic of tropes that I think abled writers should avoid - but as you probably seen on our blog, there will always be exceptions to them. Example: I always say to not put your character with a facial difference in a mask - but in this post I said it was fine if XYZ happened. Nuance and all. But putting tropes in just to be "subversive" usually comes off as cheap, assuming that they actually are subversive in the first place (which they usually aren't).

Tropes are tools, and they can be used well if the writers put effort in, and especially if they ask the group that the trope itself affects. They are bad if they're done mindlessly and without care for actual disabled people, and at the end of the day it depends on how the writer decides to use them. Don't just assume that your case is "special" and "totally different" from all those people who do use them wrong - these two groups often end up as a perfectly circular Venn diagram. Check with disabled readers first.

Having a POV disabled character is completely fine in my opinion. It's not like we are a completely alien, unrelatable concept to abled people. It can be done well, but it does also require more thought and effort to be put in. Again, I think that sensitivity readers can be incredibly helpful in a case like this.

And I think that it is important for the writer to just look at the page and ask: do I know enough to write about the character experiencing X? Because sometimes the answer will be no, and that's fine. Not even stories written by disabled people will touch on every single aspect of the disabled experience because it's so incredibly wide that there would be no place left for actual plot.

We also don't just sit around and think about how we feel about our disabilities. Sure, deciding how your character feels about it in the vague sense is helpful for characterization, but there's a ton of disabled people who treat their disability as a complete non-event. People like us who mod a blog about disability representation are very much a minority. Your character could just be like "oh yeah I guess I do use crutches but it's been 10 years so I keep forgetting about it" and only actively think about that when the actual situation calls for it.

Your character could be 100% neutral about their disability and just think of their cane as something they carry around the same way they do with their house keys, or could be So Positive and make sure their cane compliments their outfit just right every time they leave the house. What I'd advise against is a character who dislikes their disability. Again, it probably could be done well if there was a lot of effort involved, but it's really not something I look forward to when we're talking about abled writers. Even if their intentions are good, or even if they want to show the diverse spectrum of disability (which again, is true! there are people who feel purely negatively about theirs), it feels weird. Like, why? I think that in 99% cases, those kinds of characters are better left off to disabled writers.

Last thing that I want to add: unless you're writing about ableism, or time-accurate historical fiction, don't use slurs. If you want to refer to some movements that use any of them (Cripplepunk) either shorten them (CPunk), beep the slur out, or at the very least acknowledge that they are slurs.

I hope that this helps!

mod Sasza

[zgvlt]

sending your crush a survey form hcs first years (and idia shroud) x reader (separate) *ortho's is platonic, with reader having a crush on idia instead

author's note: insp. by that youtube trend! i haven't seen another writer do this for twst, but regardless this will be my own rendition and take on the trope! even though the gen concept is the same, each character has a different twist with theirs

general tags: gender neutral reader, fluff + attempt at humor, sfw, time skip after NRC graduation, not beta read, mix of text and images (for images, image desc/text version available for screen readers and those who prefer to read text over image)

wc: approx. 6k+ total (around 1k per character)

character: ACE TRAPPOLA premise/trope: sending the survey form to Ace, who's already your signfinicant other

HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK

The initial reaction is nothing out of the norm for Ace. Sure he doesn't seenzone or ghost you, but his quick replies consist of him typing variations of "LMAO" and "ARE YOU FRFR", as well as laugh reacting the message itself.

He also asks you if you're planning on becoming an influencer or streamer or something along those lines, why else would you want to make and send him a form like that?

After a few minutes, though, he'll start trying to call you, mentioning/pinging you to make sure you answer. If you're able to ignore his calls, he's going to make sure your phone is unusable with the amount of notifications he sends your way. Hey, maybe you'll even click on it and answer the call on accident!

Ace, as your significant other, probably knows your schedule so he's fairly confident that you have nothing else better to do than to answer him (he wouldn't be spamming you otherwise), so he's smug and not surprised that you eventually answer him. The first thing he tells you on call is,

"You're so lame, we're literally dating?! By the way... did you actually send this to other people?"

Makes fun of you if you say he's the only one but he also thinks it's sweet, and he says as much in a tone that sort of comes off as mocking at first, but it's clear after the first few seconds that he does think it's cute.

He's mature enough if you say you've sent it to other people. Rather than jealous, he's smug at the fact that he's the last crush, he's the end game.

Tells you to stay on the call as he answers the form. You'll notice that even as he's making fun of you with each question, the things he says versus the things he types differ from one another.

(And even if it didn't, you've become an expert at figuring out how to read Ace Trappola)

HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS

Q: did you know that i liked you (don't lie) A: wtf did you downgrade me?? did i go from L O V E to L I K E...? damn 💔💔

Q: if yes, how did you find out A: because you were ALWAYS clinging onto me in our NRC days 🙄 like come on could you not leave me alone for a little bit damn you really had to spend every minute with me and then after graduation ur still all over me tsk tsk also you were all heart eyes whenever you looked at me I'm not dense!

Q: okay so did you ever like ME A: the way i know you’re asking this so you can get some new material to make fun of me with. who did you get that bad attitude from huh 🤔 anyway unfortunately i did, and because i know you’re going to try to punt me for that i’m jOKING we’re literally together of course i did and do

Q: what do you like about me A: [ticks the boxes: everything, about, me, other] wowww maybe i do hype you up too much what is this behavior

Q: how did we meet A: you were in trouble and i saved your butt no this is not historical revisionism

Q: most memorable moment(s) w/ me A: to get the sap out, every moment with you is memorable awwww im so sweet, anyway now that i said that - everytime we got in trouble w/ trein or crewel bc we kept passing notes - group bonding activity by making fun with deuce (with love!) - the time we got caught sneaking out by riddle, trey, AND cater like triple kill?? - i guessss our first date (see point three) (theyve NEVER let me forget it bruh)

Q: is there something you dont like abt me A: well if were being serious there are just like there are things you find annoying about me but weve talked about it before and were working through it anyway serious talk over!! if there are other replies to this let me know if i have to fight someone lol (or you can do it yourself and i can watch) (or just prank them or smth i support your rights AND your wrongs)

Q: answer this only if ur my s/o: ily A: why are you being so cute today should i be worried? KIDDING i love you too

Q: ty for answering any last words? A: its been a while since weve gone out, we should go on a date again tonight

AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM

Once Ace submits the form, he tells you to read his answers already, almost as if he's expecting you to speedrun through them.

You're totally free to make fun of him back for the things he typed out—he can try to complain or whine, even retaliate whatever you say, but the banter and playful arguing makes things more fun for him. He likes any and all of your attention, you know it as well as he does.

If you sent the form to anyone else, he asks if he can read their answers as well. He won't budge if you'd rather keep it private because the knowledge of him being the final choice bloats his head just fine, but wouldn't it be more fun to laugh at those who, to quote, "fumbled the bag" when it came to you?

(And, well, you can listen to him agree with the nice things they wrote about you, because he knows first hand just how lovable you really are and how lucky he really is to be with you)

When you get to the last question, he's grinning to himself—even without the camera turned on, you can just hear him smiling, like he knows that you're rolling your eyes.

Whatever, you can both share your sweet nothings in person, when the both of you get somewhere more comfortable to be more vulnerable with each other.

"So, you up for a date some time tonight? My treat!"

character: DEUCE SPADE premise/trope: Deuce getting the form from someone he's highly admired for years

HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK

He doesn't answer you for a few minutes, even though it's considered rude to just view your message. You can see that he's viewed your message, for sevens' sake! Still, you send one final message telling him to take his time with answering—Deuce was probably panicking or overreacting behind the screens.

He was. He gets the message while he's at work, and he has to try very hard to swallow his shout—it would be bad if he alarmed his co-workers, after all!

Tries to answer—both your message and your form—during his break, but decides that he needs far more time than his work break would allow, so he tries to focus on his job until he can go home.

His hands hover over the keyboard, and he reads the things he types out over and over again just to make sure he doesn't have any typos. If he's made you wait this long, he'll at least try to have good spelling!

DEUCE : are you sure you sent this to the right person?

Deuce has a bit of a hard time grasping that you could even have a crush on him—he's harbored a huge crush on you for YEARS, an admiration turned romantic affection that he's been, unfortunately, made fun of for his whole NRC career.

(His friends made fun of him for being such a coward, but confessing seemed so out of the question years ago! He had to focus on becoming an honor student, and you were just so...???)

When you reassure him that, yes, you did mean to send it to him, he replies that he'll answer it A.S.A.P! The sudden vigor gives you whiplash, and out of fear of formality you have to tell him that he can be as honest as possible.

It takes Deuce an hour at least to send in his answers, but when you look them over later you'll find that although he's trying to be polite and is clearly holding back (it's alright, you can have a proper talk about this some other time), his answers are genuine and his sweetness shines through.

HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS

Q: How do we know each other? A: We both went to NRC and we shared a few classes, then we became friends

Q: Before this, did you know I liked you? A: No?! Not at all?! I mean I knew you liked me as a friend, because we were friends, but like-like? Like as a crush? I mean Ace and a few other people teased me about you liking me back then but I always thought it was a joke because you know? You’re you???

Q: Did you ever like me back? A: I didn’t think I would say it this way but yes?! Of course? I would be blind not to!

Q: If yes, how long did the crush last? A: [ticks the boxes: 3+ years, other] Um am I supposed to answer 3+ if it's ongoing...?

Q: If you liked me, why didn't you tell me? A: There were two main reasons… first I never thought I could have a chance with you, I didn’t want to ruin anything, second is just that I wanted to grow first into a better student and person, so I didn’t think I was ready to date either.

Q: What do you like most about me? A: Do I say just one thing…? It’s kinda hard to choose, and this is super embarrassing, you know. I guess I like that you never look down on me for my past and the fact that I’m still… not very cool. Even though you tell me I am. I like that you try to help me in whatever way you can, and I like that you’re always one of the first people to defend me when a bunch of jerks feel like causing trouble. And when you ran into my mom that one time, you told her really nice things about me (she told me even though you told her not to, sorry!) and I ended up liking you even more… I just find you reliable and respectable and I’ve always wanted to catch up to you since you were (are?) so out of my league?

Q: Could you imagine yourself dating me? A: Absolutely

Q: Thank you for answering! Sorry if this is awkward. Anything else to add? A: Wait can you tell me how long you liked me for? And a few other things I kind of want an explanation :’) Should I send a form too or do I just DM you?

AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM

Aside from wanting some explanations (as much as you're willing to give), honestly, Deuce is a little distraught (okay, more than a little—the crush had never really disappeared even after graduation). He genuinely thinks he lost his chance with you. After all, the title was in the past tense!

No he didn't lose his chance, but he's gearing himself up to just accept that you saw something good in him to the point that you once liked him—that, in a way, gives him a sense of happiness.

Maybe you're a mind reader, or maybe you're just good at detecting Deuce's tone from his answers and later messages, because you let him know that you're very much still into him, and if he still is then maybe he's willing to give the both of you a shot...?

At that point Deuce is very much glad to be at home because he's grinning ear to ear, face flushed like the color of his alma mater dorm. He feels like those teenage girls from those movies he watched with his mom on occasion—the ones who got butterflies in their stomach.

It's the fastest he texts back yet, sending you a stream of messages that all form the answer of a resounding YES.

Yes, he does call his mom later that night and tells her that he has a date coming soon. His mom always did wonder if he'd ever find a significant other amidst his busy career.

(His mother teases him a bit, but as embarrassing as it is to be teased like he was still a high schooler, his happiness overthrows it)

DEUCE : HUH?? OF COURSE I WANT TO GO ON A DTEA WITH YOU?? DEUCE : *DATE sorry I got excited. obviously, duh.., wow i'm seriously still not very cool, huh DEUCE : so... no pressure but when are you free to meet up?

character: JACK HOWL premise/trope: two best friends with very obvious mutual pining but have never said a word about their feelings, and now they live far apart. you send the form to Jack for closure (or resolution)

HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK

He wants to ask if this is a joke (even though the form title said it was not a prank), but refrains from sending in what he initially typed out. If you were serious, and he thinks you are, then it wouldn't be right for him to doubt or question your feelings.

It's going to take him a while to actually fully process the form title and form description alone, but he lets you know that he's not ignoring you or anything, he just needs a hot minute

JACK : Don't worry, I'm not ignoring you, but I need a moment. By the way, do you really want me to answer the form? Or do you want to just... call.

For one reason or another, perhaps you wanting to gauge his own interest in you, or perhaps you needing some time before properly having that conversation with him, you request he answer the form first.

Jack doesn't exactly like it when people beat around the bush, but he knows it must have taken a lot of courage out of you to confess to him. Braver than him, really, who never had the strength to let you know what he felt for you, feelings that were apparently required all this time.

Later, Jack would laugh to himself (or with you) at how silly the both of you were, wallowing in angst over unrequited love that was never actually unrequited.

A part of Jack does wish he knew earlier, maybe the both of you could have been dating all this time, but perhaps this was the timing that was meant for him and you... not that Jack knew anything about destiny or fate.

His answers are serious, but not cold, not completely. Warmth lingers, mostly from you imagining him reading the words to you, imagining his expressions as he does so.

His answers are also quite honest, although you can picture him getting somewhat embarrassed over how vulnerable he's being. Maybe typing things out instead of immediately saying them verbally helps him be less shy and awkward about this, too.

And when you read them, you can easily identify his fondness and affection for you, the one he's always possessed. Really, it's a wonder that it took him spelling out his feelings for you to realize how much he adores you.

HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS

Q: did u ever realize i more than liked you? A: There were a few times where I really thought you might have liked me back, mostly by watching your body language, or the things my seniors (Leona and Ruggie) pointed out, but the “signs” felt so natural that I just pushed it aside.

Q: did u ever have feelings for me too? A: Let me say something first: why are you immediately assuming that I don’t have the same feelings for you? Like you’re expecting me to reject you? Really, you’re so… anyway. For the record, it’s not “did”, it’s “do”, I do have feelings for you, since we were students in NRC. That hasn’t changed even after we left and went our separate ways. And I don’t want to assume, and since I checked the other questions and you didn’t ask… I’ve probably liked you for just as long. Look, I know I’m actually a lot more dense than I thought I would be, but I didn’t think you would be, too.

Q: did you ever want to date me? A: I did, and I still do.

Q: if i said i still have feelings for you, and that i miss you, how would you feel? A: I would say I’m the same, and that I wish we lived nearer each other so I could see you right now, and tell you these things in person instead of a form.

Q: jack when’s ur next vacation/free day :( A: No vacation until next month, but I can free up my Sat-Sun if you want?

Q: what things do you like about me A: Everything? Is that bad to say? Even though I tried to push you aw[a]y at first, you still tried to be my friend, and then we got closer and closer. You appreciate my space, but you also keep me company. I’m used to being alone, but I’m glad that I wasn’t because you were always around. I think it would be easier to say what I don’t like about you, it’ll take less time.

Q: umm ive been asking so much, do u have any questions for me? A: A few, though I can ask the rest later 1) Is there a certain type of place you would want to visit any time soon? 2) Is there anything you want from my hometown? 3) Just making sure, you’re still single, right? 4) Do you really want to stop liking me?

Q: jackkk i really miss you :((( huhuhu A: i miss you too, more than i let you know. im sorry i rarely tell you that

Q: sorry im a mess, do u wanna add smth A: please call me when you’re done reading this (or when you can)

AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM

It's difficult for Jack to proceed with the rest of his day, especially when you tell him you're going to read his response, when you haven't called him yet.

Thankfully you don't make him wait for too long, although Jack was willing to wait if you had other urgent matters to attend to, or if you just needed more time to compose your thoughts.

Once in call, Jack takes the initiative to steer the conversation to the topic at hand—your feelings for him, his feelings for you, and what that meant for your relationship going forward.

The both of you lived quite a ways apart, and while that wasn't necessarily ideal (Jack desperately wanted to see you and hold you in his arms right now), he was sure he had the ability to make it work with you, as long as you were willing to do the same.

Weekend trips to see each other, perhaps moving closer to each other and moving in together in the future, those weren't out of the question.

There were certain topics that could always be decided on later, and he lets you know as much; he just needed to call you now so he could tell you what he's always wanted to for years.

"Hey, don't get over me just yet, not when I've been wanting to see you again."

character: EPEL FELMIER premise/trope: you have been flirting with Epel for years, even though the two of you are merely (unfortunately for you AND him) best friends. you send the form for fun, and get the retaliation you very well deserve

HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK

Seconds after sending the form, you're immediately laughing it off, launching excuses and reasons as to why you sent one (and made a form to begin with). In fact, even before you sent the link, you were already building it up to be "just another one of your flirtations" instead of what it really is

Epel loves you, really (and wow did it take him a while... and a whole bunch of people pointing out his feelings to actually realize it wasn't just the friendly kind of love), but he's very tired of... whatever was going on with the both of you

It's cute when you flirt with him to be honest, even though it's embarrassing and downright flustering more than half the time (probably the thing stopping him from ever trying to do the same unto you), but it always felt... nice. Even if he did lose his shit one too many times.

It'd feel even better if the both of you were actually dating, though

He doesn't think you've been flirting with him as a joke or anything, he'd definitely would've put a stop to it otherwise, but he still wants his feelings to be taken more seriously, and for you to consider that he is very capable of liking you back, and for you to actually give him a say

Well, this form would be a good chance for that, right?

His voice message is enough to make you nervous, the incoherent keyboard smash you sent right after is proof of it

"Hehe, just give me a few minutes, I'mma answer it properly!"

Epel tries to be smooth but his answers have some awkwardness to them, clearly attempting to emulate you and how you enjoy talking to him, but the attempts at flirting are not lost on you.

Still, you can just tell that it isn't just payback—he's very serious about the things he's writing, even with the quips and joking responses to your questions here and there.

It's his sheer honesty though, the way he writes like he just spills his feelings for you all over the keyboard without regard for any proper form, that ends up the most romantic and impactful.

HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS

Q: hypotheticallyyyy, would u like me back A: Why would you need hypotheticals when I DO like you back? (Also, didn't you say you "hypothetically" loved me? Why is it "like" now?)

Q: *shakes 8ball* would u date me if ever A: The following is ticked: - signs point to yes - it is decidedly so - without a doubt - yes - definitely - outlook good - most likely - other: My sources (my heart) says yes

Q: so, did u know ur the apple of my eye A: You're so silly why am I even into vou..? Right, it's because l'm apple-solutely a fool for you.

Q: epel why are u still here TT A: WellI, if you want me to answer this seriously, it's because I'm getting impatient. I like/love you, you feel the same, we kind of act like we're dating half the time… actually a lot of people already think we're meant to be, so why aren't we dating yet? it's driving me crazy honestly, sometimes i think i'll just kiss you to shut you up whenever you think up some lame pickup line or when you want to hold my hand

Q: when'd ya realize u LOVED me <3- delulu A: Vil pointed out that I didn't bite your head off when you called me cute

Q: whats ur favorite moment with me <3 A: When we went to my hometown w/ the rest of our schoolmates, and then we separated from our group so I could give you a personal tour of my home. You joked that you would get lost and that we were on a date so you needed me to hold your hand, maybe u did want to hold hands but I also knew your hands were cold be SOMEONE forgot their gloves. We held hands the whole tour, and be people recognize me everyone assumed we were dating… but you didn't care if people thought (realized) you loved me, as long I never found out.. and because I was dense, I didn't until I recalled that day again

Q: not to fish for compliments BUT i will. list EVERTHING you like about me <3 A: 1) everything ;) INCLUDING your flirting, believe it or not 2) the way you can tease me and poke fun at me w/o belittling me 3) when you call me "cute" it makes me feel the same as when u call me "cool" 4) the way u enable+join me in, as our friends would say, ; "being chaotic good"

Q: what do you hate about me hehehe A: i hate that ur single and not dating me yet

Q: why did you finish this form epel A: because i want to raise apple trees and make jam with you in the future

AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM

The both of you have always been the type to joke with one another. It's not that neither of you take to having serious conversations, but it's always been about things you wanted to vent about, or Epel's thoughts on his appearance and femininity, or a few other things the both of you felt like bringing up. Never a love life.

(You have asked him if he was in a relationship a few times since graduation, likely to see if you had to steer clear and fully give up on him. He's guilty to asking the same questions.)

For someone who flirted with him a lot, you never brought it up seriously before. Not since the incident with the ghost bride.

Of course, he knows he could have stepped up much earlier, that the both of you could have been dating even back in NRC, but perhaps he wanted to wait (until he eventually became impatient), or he needed reassurance or a sign.

Epel's not very sure, and he doesn't think there's one definite reason, but that's besides the point. He finally got to tell you his feelings, and even though you've more than hinted that you feel the same, he wants to hear it from you this time, without you taking it back or pushing it as a joke it never was.

He has his moments of insecurity, too many to count especially in the past, but when he rings you on the phone and you pick up immediately, he's full of confidence, grinning in anticipation of what's to come.

"So, if I said I loved you, too, what would'ya think about it?"

character: SEBEK ZIGVOLT premise/trope: pretending the form you're making him answer is a regular survey you need participants for

HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK

If asked, you pretended it was a requisite you desperately needed participants for because Sebek would definitely take some time off his ever busy schedule to help a friend out. He gets it, getting participants is difficult! And because he's such a good friend, obviously he'll take some time out of his day to answer your survey!

Asks if he should send the form to Malleus and Lilia too but you absolutely refuse. You cite that they've exceeded the maximum age range, an answer Sebek readily accepts. An age range, how diligent of you to put that into consideration!

You can expect him to answer your form as soon as he's able to, and he tells you as much!

SEBEK : What an odd research topic. I never knew this was one of your interests! Still, I applaud you for your dedication and for your interest in studying fae; I shall aid you in your study! And if you have anything more to ask, feel free to call me any time!

He is... more than confused when he goes over the questions. It's always important to read all the questions before answering a test, so he employs the same tactic when he looks at the survey. He's not sure if he regrets it, but his throat certainly hates him for it—choking on nothing but his own spit.

His instincts tell him to message you IMMEDIATELY, face flushed at the idea of you playing a joke, making a fool out of him, but then... he stops himself from doing so.

You're clearly teasing him, yes, but all the same he's curious about your motives, about how you would react to his answers, about the answers you want to get out of him... or anyone else. Did you send the form to anyone else? What if you were getting answers from other people?

Oddly enough, what motivates him to answer instead of interrogating you about the form is the idea of someone else sending in the form before him. He can't have that! He had to show that he was your most reliable friend, the one you could count on if you really needed help.

Most of his answers are predictably... Sebek, loud even in text, honest in his confusion and feelings. Well, in the ones you allow him to type anyway. Probably your fault with your choice of questions. Still, it's enough to reassure you of his feelings, that you weren't just delusional and seeing things.

HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS

Q: When you see a picture of me, what emotions are you likely to feel? A: The following is ticked: - Happy, Glad, Pleased - Shy, Nervous, Hesitant - Ecstatic, Excited, Motivated - Delighted, Charmed, Exhilarated - other: You don’t have a study at ALL, do you? How brave to fool me like this!

Q: What traits do you associate with me? A: The following is ticked: - charming - bewitching - endearing - lovable - good-looking - fascinating - other: If you’re going to list everything, why even give the option for other?

Q: With this vague scale, how would you rate your feelings for me? A: [Sebek selects the choice with the highest rank]

Q: How compatible do you think you are with me on a scale of… on a scale? A: [Sebek selects the choice with the highest rank]

Q: If I asked you on a date, how likely are you to say yes A: [Sebek selects the choice with the highest rank]

Q: How sure are you of the extent of your feelings for me A: [Sebek selects the choice with the highest rank]

[ SECTION BREAK / NOT A QUESTION ] Not a question but based on my pre-existing research, it seems our feelings are quite similar! Just sharing!

Q: Hi, I will finally allow you to rant away now :) Thanks for answering this! A: This was not only the most ridiculous test/survey I have taken in my LIFE, but also the most DIFFICULT. The way I’m not allowed to explain myself, well, expect that I will most CERTAINLY be explaining myself at a later date. It has to be on a later date because WHY DID YOU PUT A CHRACTER LIMIT ON THI

AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM

Are all humans so... odd and creative when it comes to expressing their feelings? Was this an expression of your feelings? Was this you wanting to court him, or perhaps asking him to court you?!

Sebek's thoughts are all over the place, but they bring out the feelings he thought had died down after graduation. Whatever charm you had placed on him had never worn off, remaining even when you weren't in his presence.

Before typing out his (very lengthy) paragraph of a text message, a paragraph more suited for an email, really, Sebek thinks of two things.

First, that Briar Valley needs better cell reception—a bunch of your text messages just came in, asking if he was answering the form, or if he was busy and got called on to do something, or if he was plain ignoring you.

(Well, by your texts, he at least knows he's the only one you've sent the form to. That gives him far too much pride than it should)

Second, that he wasn't in Briar Valley right now (the younger him never would have thought of thinking such a thing), or that you were in Briar Valley right now, so he could go up to see you and express his feelings most appropriately.

He supposes a text will do for now. A nicely worded text, if he can't send a letter (he could, but it would take too long). He can just... do something more romantic later.

SEBEK : DEAREST HUMAN! Even with our time apart, you are still as confounding and befuddling and CONFUSING as ever, you and your unusual ways of showing what I presume to be your affections for me, or at the very least signaling your interest, gathering information to analyze my own interest levels! Admittedly your attempt was, for the lack of a better way to phrase it, lacking good prose, unpoetic, and extremely weird, but nevertheless your feelings have reached me. Somehow, you have managed to render me speechless (for a few minutes), and you, in spite of your general lack of romanticism, continue to set my heart ablaze. With that said, even though I find your methods cowardly, I accept your advances, but I ask we hold off from pursuing anything until I can tell you in person. That is to say, I want for us to meet again.

[ BONUS ! ]

character: ORTHO SHROUD (& IDIA SHROUD) premise/trope: sending a form to your crush's younger brother, Ortho, mostly because you don't want to commit to confessing to Idia yet

HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK

He already knew you had feelings for his brother, but there's a different type of happiness in knowing you're willing to admit it (at least to him, if not yet Idia)

It's one thing to like his brother, and it's another thing to be able to say it. From his observations (of you, of others, and the games his brother played) and research (on online forums... and also the games his brother played), there was that probability that you would be ashamed of yourself for liking Idia, his wonderful but flawed brother. He's glad you don't seem to think that way.

That aside, he thinks you sending him the form is fun! He's more than willing to answer anything you want to know (whether it's just about him or if it's something to help you get closer to his brother)

Plus, he got called your BFF! :D

ORTHO : Your secret is safe with me! Don't worry q(≧▽≦q) My metaphorical lips are sealed!

When it comes to answering, he's straight to the point but cute, even when he says things that could come off as burns towards you or his brother. Most of all, it's very clear that he not only adores his brother, but that he cares for you, too.

HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS

Q: hi ortho! first of all, i missed youuu 💙 A: I missed you too! I haven’t seen you since graduation ＞︿＜

Q: so since i’m sure you know i like idia, when/how did you realize? A: I was walking with you to class one day when your heart rate increased! I was really scared that something had happened to you ::>_<:: I ran a few tests out of concern, even though you were confused about why I wanted to do that. Everything was normal when I checked it, but when I suggested my brother help investigate the anomaly your heart rate rose again!

Q: just making sure, do you think idia has a clue that i like him A: Oh, absolutely! He… just kidding! Not at all! I never told him, even though I wanted to sometimes, but even if I did I don’t think he would belive me! My brother is not dense, he gets flustered by you a lot, but I think he’s too in denial that it’s possible you like him!

Q: do you think idia likes me too A: That’s a secret! Please confess to my brother first, or wait for him to confess!

Q: its okay with u if i dated him, right? A: I approve! I like you very much o(^.^)o Me and Idia always have fun with you!

Q: serious question do you think idia would open to dating right now? A: Hmmm I think it’s better that you talk to him about it! I know the both of you can come to an agreement that you’ll both be happy with ( ˇ v ˇ )

Q: aside from the fact that you love your brother and that you like me, why do you think we’re good for one another? A: I have prepared multiple answers for this question! [ 1 ] Because you like him! [ 2 ] Because you like me, too! ヾ(•ω•`)o [ 3 ] Because you understand and accept Idia without forcing him to change. [ 4 ] Because you know when Idia wants space and when he wants to hang out with you. [ 5 ] Because you smile brightly around him and he smiles brightly around you. Idia is happier seeing you than seeing Gakemo live, or getting an SSR!

Q: do u have any tips for meee A: Just be yourself! ヾ(≧ ▽ ≦)ゝ

Q: if i get rejected by idia, are you still down to be my little brother? hihi A: I don’t want to tell you the probabilities of anything, but you should have more faith in yourself! And of course! o((>ω< ))o

AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM

The chances are, either he gives you enough assurance to confess to Idia in the coming days/weeks, or he convinces you to wait it out when the time is right—dating sims usually had confession scenes at very specific and special locations, right? Maybe you had to wait for a sign.

Either way, it's hard not to believe you have a chance when Ortho tells you—not because of his godly skills (seriously, what kind of genius is Idia?) in analyzing data and making predictions based on probabilities, but because Ortho's the one who knows him best, who's always going to be there when he needs it.

How can you not trust him when he implies (implies, only so he won't take the chance from his brother to confess to you properly) that his brother might just have a crush on you, too?

After a while, the conversation divulges from Idia to simply catching up with Ortho, asking him how he's been doing, setting up a day where the both of you could play a few online games together (with and without Idia), but his sweet messages remain in your head all day.

ORTHO : Even though I want you to date my brother as soon as possible (please I promise the probability of him liking you back is much higher than you think!), I promise I won't interfere, so take your time! ORTHO : Even without dating him, I already see you as my other big sibling anyway \^o^/

masterlist | end notes

[ 1 ] made this in 2 days because i was just really tired from school and wanted a break, but wanted something a little less taxing brain power wise than a one-shot. i've had this idea in my head for a few months now so i thought i would finally write it out!

[ 2 ] figuring out how someone would type is a struggle, so i had to make guesses based on how they write the valentine letters + voice lines, then take some liberties based on their relationship dynamic with the reader + the tone of the premise

[ 3 ] epel: "because I want to raise apple trees and make jam with you in the future", referencing one his suitor suit (the groom outfit, i forgot what it's called in EN) voice lines

[ 4 ] speaking of epel, i asked for ideas basically on what dynamics people liked with him. unfortunately i couldn't employ EVERY idea, i mostly went with @ / syl-lithy 's with a dash of everyone elses. ig ill just have to use the other dynamics in some other work for epel 😌

[nattikay]

“Furries are nasty perverts and fetishists!!”

“No they’re not, furries are actually the most sweetest wholesome loving generous fandom ever!!”

…both these statements are (partly) wrong actually, and share the same problem: generalization.

see, all the term “furry” means is that someone likes the concept of anthropomorphic animals. That can encompass an incredibly broad scope of genres, mediums, tropes, styles, fan expressions, etc. It does not have any bearing on the individual’s moral character.

It’s absolutely true that some furries really are sweet and kind and generous and wholesome etc.

But unfortunately, it’s also true that some furries really are perverts and creeps and bullies and drama queens etc.

Painting the whole fandom as perverts/fetishists/“all about sex”/etc. is unfair to the furries who are not into those things and just want to have fun drawing cartoon animals, or dressing up as them, or however else they want to channel their hobby; as a “clean furry” who wants nothing to do with sexual side of the fandom I completely understand the frustration with this generalization and the knee-jerk reaction to refute it.

But, painting the whole fandom as sweet innocent angels is wrong too, and only makes us look dishonest when non-furries see us claiming that all furries are all wholesome all the time, only to turn around and find Kero the Wolf or some other infamous case.

Of course I’m not saying we shouldn’t celebrate the good aspects of the fandom, nor that we need to make a disclaimer about bad eggs every time we do. I’m just saying that mass generalizations are a problem in both directions.

The truth is that furries are individuals. There are good ones, bad ones, and all levels of in-between (this is true of any fandom actually, or really probably any large social group at all). Being a “furry” (aka thinking talking animals are cool basically) in and of itself is morally neutral; it does not make someone automatically good nor automatically bad.

[nightlyrequiem]

Hello there requiemmm 💫💫💫

Ive got a new request for u bbg 😈 /p

okay, so, this ones short, but, i hope its descriptive enough?? Idk 😭

(excuse my grammar, english is not my first language)

Valeria X unfairly devoted Reader.

hear me out, -- Reader is a member of Valerias cartel, -- they're in the higher ranks (im talking, one of the very few people that actually know who El Sin Nombre is, type of 'higher rank')

Reader is an absolute devotee. They (platonically, mostly) worship Valeria, cater to her every need, do whatever she'd like, whenever she'd like, no questions asked. Reader doesnt do it out of fear, that much is obvious. They just do it out of both respect and the far lack of both disobedience and a backbone.

Valeria, naturally, appreciates them, -- keeps them close, enjoys their company (mostly, because it feeds her ego, and makes her feel superior, -- in control, and whatnot) so much so, that reader is nearly permanently stuck being, somewhat of a 'personal assistant'.

Reader, being forced to spend all day (and, sometimes night, if Valeria needs some help with something) decides 'eh, why the fuck not' and asks Valeria out on a little hangout, disguised as a small 'meeting' in a coffee shop, that, ultimately, actually goes well, and spirals into a date.

(Date, naturally, ends with beating someone senseless in a dark alley, after they listened in on Readers and Vals conversation, or, .. something. Reader is, most definitely, doing all the damage, being a guard dog of sorts, not wanting Valeria to 'get her hands dirty, from such a small, unimportant man'. Not manner, man.)

Etc etc, girlfriends, lesbianism, boom. Work your magic, im bad at describing genuinly falling inlove.

hope yar doing well!

--Jester

🃏🌀⭐️

Took me eight days but I finally got around to this. Sorry for the wait, Jester 😔 I am doing quite well as of wiritng this, thank you. I hope all is well with you!

This is very loosely connected to the headcanons I did for this idea. I said it once, and I'll say it again; I love the unfairly devoted trope. I’m not sure I captured it too well but 🙌

Tags/Warnings: Violence, WLW, Boss/Employee Relationship

Swans

Many species of birds mate for life. Penguins, corvids, vultures, and most famously: swans. Symbols of love, loyalty, and grace. They are creatures full of love. They're so sensitive that they can die from heartbreak. You stare at Valeria and understand how the swan feels. How it could hopelessly devote itself to another, even at the cost of it's life.

The quiet scratching of a pen fills in the silence. Valeria's brows are furrowed in concentration as she haunches over her desk. You want to remind her to straighten her back, so it doesn't hurt later. Your eyes greedily drink in her profile. The slope of her nose, the curve of her lips, her curtain of black hair slightly obscuring her cheek and eye.

She sighs.

"Get me a drink." She murmurs. You're to your feet immediately. Heading towards the small cabinet containing her alcohol. You've fixed her enough drinks to know what she wants. Your fingers wrap around the neck of a bottle with golden liquid. Pouring it into a small glass, then putting in exactly two small ice cubes.

You carry it over to her desk and set it down in the corner. You slink around behind her. Watching her take a sip. You can't see her face, but you know she's letting the liquid sit in her mouth to savour the taste. She does that with all of her drinks; savours the first sip.

You have no problem getting her drinks. Or doing her paperwork. Or taking a bullet for her. Valeria has been the one constant in your life. She's the only one who has ever noticed you, and you latched onto her like a leech. She fed you crumbs of kindness and that's all it took. It's obsessive and unhealthy but you're long past the stage of caring.

Valeria takes a second sip then goes back to working. Her shoulders look so tense. You want to rub that tension away, but you don't. It's late and you're feeling a little tired, but you'd never say so. You doubt Valeria cares and you don't want to distract her. Besides, she must be tired too. You'll go home when she does. For now, though, you wander back around the desk and sit down in one of the chairs off to the side.

You gaze at Valeria as she works. At some point without even realising it you fall asleep. Your body startles itself awake as that fact worms it's way into your subconscious. You aren't sure how long you've been dozing off for, but Valeria isn't in the room anymore. You sit up with urgency and look around, a small fleece blanket falls from your shoulders.

You furrow your brows, trying to remember if you put it on yourself. You know you didn't. You feel slightly giddy at the thought of Valeria doing it. As if just thinking her name summoned her, Valeria walks into the small office. Despite how tired she is her stride is still intense and confident.

She sits down with a grunt and glances at you.

"Good sleep?" She asks sarcastically.

"How long was I out for?" You murmur. Tugging the blanket into your lap. Valeria's hair is a little messy and you wish you could run your fingers through it. Or a brush. You just want to touch her hair.

"Fifteen minutes." Valeria replies. "You should go home and get some rest."

Fifteen minutes isn't that bad. You don't want to leave just yet though.

"No, I'm okay to stay for longer." You insist. "I could help you finish up the last of those reports."

Valeria shakes her head and when she speaks her voice sounds softer than usual. "You've been staying late for the past few weeks; I know you aren't getting the sleep you need. Go home."

You frown but concede. "Alright." As you're getting up an idea pops into your head. "Hey, could we meet at Ila's tomorrow? I just think I need some extra reminders about where all the trade routes are." You know every route and the exact location of them.

"Okay." Valeria agrees. "5PM."

The next day arrives and you're very impatient for 5PM. You finished all your tasks and went home early. It's not a date. Not to Valeria, but that doesn't mean you aren't going to treat it like one. You've picked out a nice, attractive outfit and touched up your makeup.

You arrived five minutes early and secured a table. Watching as patrons pass by. The smell of baked goods almost tempts you into buying something, but you don't want to eat before Valeria. Ever the punctual person, Valeria walks in through the glass doors at exactly 5PM. She looks very put together, hair brushed and glossy. She's even wearing different clothes.

Valeria sits down across from you and gives you a small smile that sends fireworks throughout your body. You want to trap that smile in a jar like a firefly. Valeria reaches into her bag and pulls out a folded, yellowed map and sets it up on a table. She begins to quietly and intently explain where each route is and where the shipments go.

You nod and hum, pretending to listen. You're much more focused on Valeria's hands as she points at places on the map. Her neatly trimmed pink nails and fingers. Ine of them is slightly crooked from having been broken one too many times. Her skin looks soft and if you try hard enough you can smell her lotion.

"-and this is when we split it into smaller batches to move it across the border."

You point to Mackey Hill.

"Here?" You ask. Already knowing the answer.

"Yes." She nods. You glance up behind her for a split second and watch some scruffy looking man quickly turn away. Immediately you straighten and stare at him. You don't like the vibes he's giving off.

Valeria furrows her brows at you.

"What's wrong?" She asks quietly. You lean closer and whisper back.

"I think that man is eavesdropping."

Valeria turns her head to look at the man, narrowing her eyes. You feel pleased that she trusts your word so strongly.

"Get rid of him." She commands.

You slip out of your spot and approach him. He startles as you lean down and murmur in his ear.

"Follow me. My boss has a proposition for you." You walk towards the doors and cast a look behind you. He's staring at you nervously but eventually rises.

You wait behind the brick wall and wait. Sure enough the man rounds the corner. Looking at you with a mixture of caution and curiosity.

"What was the-" He's cut off by Valeria hitting him in the back of the head. He grunts and falls to his knees. You strike him this time. Kneeing him in the face. He opens his mouth to scream but you cover it before he can.

You drag him deeper into the alley and fish out the small blade hidden in your boot. You make quick work of slitting his throat. He makes an awful gurgling sound before going still. Valeria helps you lift him into the nearby dumpster. Your fingers brush and you look at each other.

You've been loyal to her for years. Since before she even came into power. Through thick and thin you've stuck by her side. You've thrown yourself in harm's way to protect her without thought. You've spent countless hours staring at her intently but now your gaze is being returned tenfold. There's a new fire in those dark inky eyes. One you've only caught glimpses of. But here it is, in all it's blazing glory and it's directed at you. Scorching and all consuming.

His body thumps dully as he falls among the full trash bags but neither of you are paying attention to him anymore.

"Why don't we go get something to eat?" Valeria murmurs softly. "I'm sure you'll have an easier time getting the routes with a full stomach." Her hand creeps towards yours and your fingers tangle with hers. You've done more than feed her ego, you've carved out a place in her heart for yourself.

[borathae]

↳ Index [Snippet #41 - Protector]

“When Jungkook shows you why you can always count on him.”

Pairing: Jungkook x f.Reader

Warnings: harassment by a stranger, that stranger is really scary, violence in the form of Kook punching him, cursing, bruises, he is so protective over her, domestic fluff in the form of her taking care of his wounds, she is really vulnerable

Wordcount: 3.1k

a/n: sometimes i need to write about the trope of strong man protects you from danger. somehow i always wanna write that trope with kook. he gives me such “imma fight for you no matter what” vibes and ogc!kook is the epitome of that ngngn

You are so scared. All of your employees left for the day already and there are no other customers in the restaurant anymore. Except for one. A man. Drunk. Tall. Stronger than you. And with bad intentions in his eyes. 

You can’t get him to leave and you are so scared. He has started to attempt to get behind the counter. If he does, you won’t be able to go anywhere. 

He is telling you about how he thinks it fascinating when women scream. You are so scared, but keep nodding your head and smiling. You are scared that if you don’t, you would be the next one screaming for him. Not in a good way obviously. 

This never happened before. You don’t have creepy customers. Most of the drunkards staying past their curfews are sappy drunks or straight up sleepyheads. You know most of them by now and in some weird way, you see them as friends. You see most of your regulars as friends. It’s a small town and they are always welcome here. Some you even knew all your life. 

You don’t know this man. His dialect lets you know that he wasn’t from here. Probably from another province. 

He is inching closer to the bar entrance, lulling his words. 

“It’s also fascinating when women run. Their tits bounce. I like that.”

You nod and smile, but your fingers grasp the knife as tightly as possible. You used it to cut limes hours ago, but won’t hesitate to use it to cut a person. 

His eyes flit to your chest. 

“You have nice tits.”

Your hand places itself over your chest to hide away. He follows the movements of your fingers. He licks his lips.

“I’m married. Very happily.”

“So? Is a nice guy, such as myself, not allowed to compliment a nice pair of tits?”

“You know, it’s getting very late and we are actually in the middle of closing up”, you tell him, smiling the entire time, “my husband will come any second now.”

“Don’t throw me out yet, I don’t like to be denied”, he says coldly and inches closer to the entrance.

You bite down a sob. Where is your husband? Where is Jungkook? Or anyone for that matter? You are so scared. 

“It doesn’t do well with me to be denied”, the man says and places his hand on the edge of the little swing door. He pushes, opens it just enough that he can take a step inside. 

“Please no customers behind the bar”, you beg.

“I don’t like that”, he says with furrowed brows, “I don’t like that one bit.”

He steps closer and you flee. You were too scared to do anything else. You run with your body still turned to him.

He follows in big steps. Manages to get three steps and then gets tugged back so harshly he falls on his ass. 

“The fuck are you fucker doing?” Jungkook spits, placing himself between you and the criminal. He closed up shop next doors and was in the middle of getting to you so you could drive home together when he watched you get harassed through the window. He jumped into a sprint instantly with only one thought in mind. Save you. 

Your knees buckle in relief, you have to hold onto the counter because of it. You could cry. You are so relieved that it gets hard to focus. 

“Baby, is he bothering you?” Jungkook asks, staring at the man. The latter currently gets back up.  

“I’m not bothering her”, he says.

“Pumpkin pie, is he bothering you?” Jungkook insists.

“Yes”, you choke out, “pumpkin pie.”

You thought of the codeword a long time ago. You will call him pumpkin pie whenever you find yourself in a dangerous situation and he will know that it is serious. You agree that a silly nickname won’t call attention and keep you safe.

“Okay, Imma need you to leave this place”, Jungkook addresses the guy. He speaks darkly and with honest danger in his voice, “now.”

“I haven’t finished my drink.”

“And I don’t give a fuck, you’re gonna leave now.”

Jungkook steps closer to the guy in warning, intimidating him by making himself bigger.

It does work. Jungkook can be a really scary guy if he wants to. Obvious muscles, dark hair, black leather bike clothes and dark tattoos. Heavy boots and big rings on his hands and piercings on his face. Jungkook can be scary if he wants to and on many occasions it worked to get whatever danger was harassing you, off your ass. 

Tonight it only works a little. The man stumbles back to the customer zone but then gets so angry at being pushed away that he tries to attack Jungkook.

Which was a mistake, because Jungkook has been on attack mode the moment he saw you fleeing from the man. Jungkook doesn’t even give the man a chance to lift his hand for a punch and he has already landed one straight across his face. Hard and with his restraints entirely gone. The man stumbles back and falls, hitting his elbows as they cushion his fall. He groans in pain, looking disoriented for a few seconds.

One must know one thing about Jungkook. He knows how to fight. The days on the streets taught him how to act in a real fight. The years and years of daily training helped him perfect his techniques. He knows how to throw a punch, land a kick and dodge. So the punch he threw right now, landed right where it was supposed to land. With Jungkook’s entire strength and anger bundled into it.

“Leave this fucking place!” Jungkook screams so loudly his deep voice bounces off the walls. It is distorted in anger. He doesn’t sound like your dorky, sweet husband right now.

The man, bleeding from his cheek and with his eye already starting to swell, still gets up and tries to fight him. Broken pride is the initiator. Alcohol the motivator. 

Jungkook catches his hand and uses his strength against him by twirling him and pressing his arm against his back. The grip is painful. The kind police use on their victims. 

The man screams up in pain and Jungkook tightens the grip.

“You’re on thin fucking ice, Imma fuck you up if you keep trying shit. Hear me? Imma actually fucking fuck you up”, Jungkook spits as he pushes the man to the door. 

“You’re breaking my arm!”

“I’m gonna fucking break so much more than just your fucking arm. You motherfucker, I’m actually gonna fuck you up”, Jungkook barks, twisting his arm to the point where the criminal whimpers with buckling knees, “you think you can go around threatening my wife? I’m gonna fucking show you what this gets you, you shit low life fuck.”

“Please, it hurts you fucker!”

“Walk!”

Police is arriving outside. You called while they were busy fighting. They enter the restaurant and greet you loudly. Two take over for Jungkook. You know them well and they know you. They often times have lunch at your restaurant or if they don’t, they enjoy some burgers at Seokjin’s diner. They’re part of this town, as much as you and your friends are.  

“Fucking take him, Imma actually fucking curse. Take this fucker, he was threatening my wife, acting like a predator”, Jungkook spits, “fuck, I’m so angry how dare he-”

“You did a good job, Jungkook”, the police officer tells him and steps in between, “now please stay calm. We have it from here.”

“Make sure he never leaves his cell. I hope he rots in prison. This motherfucker. He threatened my ___.”

“Stay calm. Everything will be handled, but we still need to take your testimonies. He won’t leave his cell for the night, but we need you to calm down.”

Jungkook takes a step back, “fuck”, he presses out, lifting his arms, “I’m calm. Just do what you must.”

You don’t hold back any details, telling them about the scary things the man said and how he came at you when you tried to throw him out. And while you do, you are shaking while Jungkook was holding you and trembling in anger. 

They leave after making sure that the restaurant was safe. They offered to drive you home, but you told them that you can take the bike home. 

You ended up keeping it parked by the restaurant and driving home with Jungkook. You hugged him so tightly that it felt as if you wanted to merge with him. All you needed was a hug. You didn’t get a proper hug yet. You didn’t feel comfortable hugging like this in front of the police. 

The garage door closes behind you automatically. Jungkook is in the midst of taking off his helmet. You do the same. And while he is by the biking gear cupboard, you are still by his bike. It feels impossible to move. Jungkook places the helmet on its holder and turns to looks at you. Your eyes fill with tears instantly.

“Hey”, he is by your side immediately taking you into his arms, “I’m here, my love.”

You break. This was all it took. This one hug. His safe arms around you and his strong chest against your cheek. This is all it took to break your composure. 

You sob loudly and honestly and you do so with your fingers twisting his thick leather jacket while Jungkook sways your bodies from side to side soothingly and repeatedly kisses the crow of your head. 

“I’m here, I’m right here, let it all out, I’m here”, he keeps repeating over and over again. 

“I was, was so scared.”

“I know baby, god I know. Nothing can get you anymore, I’m keeping you safe.”

“Kookie…”

Jungkook holds you until you calm down. He takes off the bike gear for you and then carries you inside. He sits you down on the sofa and wraps you up in a blanket. And he does all of that whilst repeating that he was here for you over and over again. It really soothed you like nothing else.

“Can you check the windows, please?” you ask because you were scared. You know that the police were taking care of it, but you were still so scared. What if the guy flees and then tries to find you? The possibilities of that happening were next to zero, but you were still so scared.

“Of course”, and so Jungkook checked every single window and he rolled down the blinds for every single one and even turned on the lights in every room. He checked the locks twice and checks the garage door once more. You were safe and the outside world was locked out. 

Jungkook returns to you and squats down in front of you, taking your hands. 

“Nothing can get inside”, he assures you. 

Bam is by your sides, sniffling at you. His body language was tense. He must smell the anxiety. He will protect you as well if someone dares to break in. 

“Thank you for checking”, you whisper shakily. 

“Of course”, Jungkook straightens up and places his hand on the back of your head so he can pull you into a forehead kiss, “shit baby, I’m still so angry that I feel sick.”

“I’m so happy that you came when you did.”

“Me too, but fuck I should have come sooner.” 

“Don’t blame yourself please. I’m so happy that you’re here.”

“Me too. Fuck, if something had happened to you”, his face tightens in dark anger, “I would have hunted this asshole down and killed him.”

“But it didn’t”, you reach out to caress his cheeks, “thank you for keeping me safe.”

“I’ll always keep you safe.”

You feel so grateful for him. So, so grateful that you have to pull him into a kiss. Gentle and filled with eternal love. Jungkook kisses you back with just as much love and his hands cradling your face. You end it with a gentle nudge to his nose.

“Thank you, my love”, you whisper, “I still feel shaken up, but I know that I don’t have anything to worry about because you’re with me.”

“And I always will”, he assures you and seals the promise with a loving kiss. He kisses your cheek afterwards, caressing your skin with his thumb, “now stay, I’m making you some tea to calm the nerves.”

That night, Jungkook holds you as you fall asleep, running his fingers over your scalp until you find peace of mind and rest.

You wake again when you can hear Jungkook leave the bedroom. You check the clock. It’s been an hour since you went to bed. Feeling incredibly cold without his hug and just a little scared without his protection, you roll out of bed to follow him. You follow him all the way to the kitchen. 

The lights by the sink were on. Otherwise the room is dark. He is sitting on the counter and is pressing an ice pack to his knuckles.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” you ask into the silence.

Jungkook lifts his head. His messy hair hangs into his eyes.

“What are you doing up?” he gasps, “go back to bed, sweetheart.”

“I can’t sleep without you. Are you hurting?”

Jungkook removes the ice pack and shows off his bruised, swollen hand.

“I hit him with all my strength. The rings tug into my hand.”

“Holy fuck, it looks terrible. Sweetheart, we should go to the hospital”, you gasp, hurrying to him to take his hand and inspect it.

“It’s okay. It’s just bruised. I can still move my fingers, so nothing’s broken.”

“Kookie”, you press out and lean down to kiss his knuckles, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just didn’t wanna worry you.”

“God, no”, you choke out, “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“You got hurt because of me.”

“Hey. Stop that”, he says sternly and tugs you between his legs. He tilts your head up, staring deeply into your eyes. His bruised hand is the one cradling your cheek, “I’d take a fucking bullet for you, so don’t you ever apologise for this again. I’m happy I got these bruises because it means you were safe.”

You whimper and spill tears.

“Hey, my darling”, he speaks softly and pulls you against his chest. He hugs you safely, swaying you from side to side, “everything’s gonna be alright. I’m here now. Your hubby’s here.”

“Kookie, I love you”, you choke out, “I love you so much.”

“Well, I love you too my baby”, he says and kisses the crown of your head, “you should go to sleep, staying awake will only hurt you. I can see how it hurts you.”

“I can’t fall asleep without you.”

“Okay, I’ll just take care of my hand and then we can cuddle.”

“No”, you step back and take his bruised hand, “I wanna take care of it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No, no I want to”, you say in a tiny, sad voice, shaking your head vigorously.

Jungkook can see that you aren’t yourself right now, that you fell into this very vulnerable, almost child-like headspace. And that this was the result of a traumatic day, which has been dragging on for way too long. You got this way two times before. Once when you found out about your grandparents’ house burning down and the second time was when you dreamt of what happened in the alley years ago and he had to shake you awake. He was there for you on both occasions and he will make sure that he is there for you right now.

“Okay fine”, he gives in because he knows that this is what you need, “but let’s not do it here. Let’s go upstairs.”

“Yes, please.”

Jungkook sits down on the bathtub. Only the small mirror cabinet light is turned on, painting the walls of the bathroom in a faint golden shine. You hurry to your medicine cabinet and take out everything you need.

“Give me your hand”, you ask him quietly.

Jungkook offers it to you, running his thumb over your skin as you inspect him.

“It looks so painful”, you get out and choke down a whimper, “Googie.”

“It’ll heal, don’t worry.”

“Googie, please lets go to the hospital.”

“It’s not that bad, I promise”, he assures you and tilts your head up with two of his fingers holding your chin. His eyes are filled with adoration, “but I’ll go the doctors tomorrow, yeah? So we can be sure that it’s just bruised.”

“Yes, please go”, you pout, “it, it looks so painful.”

“It already hurts a little less because you’re taking care of it.”

A small smile curls at your lips. You lower your eyes and let out a shy giggle. Jungkook smiles upon hearing it, running his thumb over your cheek. He leans in and kisses whatever part of your head he can naturally reach.

“I’ll put cream on it now”, you say.

“Yes, do that. Thank you, sweetie. You’re taking such great care of me”, he speaks softly, guiding his hand from your face to your hip so he can massage it slowly. The touch feels really good to you, letting you know that he will always be there for you.

You make sure to be as careful as possible, spreading the healing cream with nothing more than a featherlight touch. The knuckle on his ring finger carries the smallest of cuts. It’s where he wore his heaviest ring. You look up at him and he gives you a reassuring smile.

“It doesn’t hurt”, he whispers, nodding his head, “keep going, you’re doing so well.”

“You, you really gotta let a doctor look at it tomorrow.”

“I will, baby. Promise. First thing I’ll do is drive to the doctors.”

“Yes. Good”, you say, now moving on to healing the knuckle of his pinky. It only carries a small bruise, “Googie, I wanna stay at home tomorrow. I’m scared to go back.”

“This is totally understandable. I think a day off sounds like a good plan. You deserve to have some rest. I’m sure that Steph can manage the place perfectly. I’ll talk to her after I went to the doctors, yeah?”

You nod your head, “thank you, Googie.”

“Of course baby, don’t mention it.”

You look up at him, “I finished the cream.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook gives your hand a gentle squeeze. It hurts a lot when he does, but he doesn’t let it show for your sake, “it already hurts so much less, thank you baby.”

“Was…was I able to help?”

“Yes baby, you helped a lot”, he assures you and pulls you into his arms. He kisses your cheek and seconds later, has you making yourself smaller so you can rest your head on his shoulder, “thank you so much, I couldn’t have done it any better.”

You snuggle into him, release a shaky breath of relief.

“Now”, he begins and squeezes your buttock, “let’s finally get back to bed and sleep the day off. Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m so tired.”

Ever since that day, Jungkook closes his shop one hour earlier just so he can stay with you until you close up. And if anyone was wondering, Jungkook kept his promise and went to the doctors. His hand was bruised, but will heal just fine.

[sharkneto]

what about five made him ur blorbo…

Man, what made Five my guy.

There’s the surface level stuff – he hits a lot of tropes I love. Asshole with a heart, competent in everything but people, an assassin who gets cool fights to good music, teleports, last man in the world, has a fucked up wife situation. He’s a fifty-eight-year-old man who looks thirteen, that concept right there has so much to work through, all by itself.

All of that is really fun stuff, but under all of that, I think I can sum up why Five hit so hard with just that he has heart. The show could have gone the route of comic!Five – unredeemable bastard of a tiny man. That would have been fun, I love comic!Five, but he works better on a comic book page, where things can be more 2D. The change the show made – maybe on accident – is that show!Five loves an incredible amount, and that’s what hooked me hard. Sure, some of this is fan interpretation, but I think it’s got moments in-show to back it up. One of his first moves he made, when stuck in the apocalypse, was to make Delores – he has her within a few days of landing there. She says so much about him the second we meet her in the show - shorthand to tell us just how bad the apocalypse was, and that, when faced with nothing, Five makes a person he has to take care of. With that, he survived four decades as the last person on earth in dystopian hell before he could get back to save the world – so he says, at least, but he has always prioritized his siblings. They're his world. He’s not great at saying it, but he’s a man of action and his actions speak very loudly.

With all that love, comes a lot of grief, which is actually what keeps me going with Five. I’m pretty open that I’ve had a lot of grief in my life. I’m doing better, it’s been a number of years now, but grief doesn’t go away, and Five is an incredible vehicle for playing with and processing grief. Experiencing it, growing from it, moving on with life around it. And Five has so many layers of grief to play with. There’s the grief for his family who he found dead when he was 13, grief for the world because it all ended, grief for the life he lost, grief for the life he had to live, grief for what he’s had to do, grief for his body and his situation. How do you keep going and move on after experiencing such loss? I find it both cathartic and motivating to think about and sit in that space.

He's a walking tragedy and I adore him for it. Character of all time.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: one bed

pairing: jameson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: you’re stuck with the cockiest man of all time and you need a place to stay… but things aren’t exactly idealistic

warnings: Jameson being a shameless flirt, you have to pretend you hate jameson… very difficult I KNOW

a/n: enemies to lovers?? Yes. One bed trope?? Yes. Jameson Hawthorne being outrageously hot for no good reason?? Absolutely.

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @stqrsbythepocketful @lxvebelle love you guys 🤍🤍

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” I say as the door swings open.

The room itself was okay, clean, tidy, welcoming but there was one giant problem situated in the middle. There was only one bed.

“I don’t think anyone is kidding this time, princess,” Jameson grins, looking far too happy with himself for your liking.

“Don’t call me that,” I scowl.

“Okay,” he smirks, “…princess.”

I want to punch that those pathetic upturned corners of his mouth to Mars but I restrain myself… for now.

“You’re on the floor,” I snap, cocking my head to where he would be sleeping. I was not about to share a bed with him, absolutely not. It was bad enough that I had to spend three days with the guy, I wasn’t about to jeopardise my sleep for him too.

“No I am not,” he yells, looking offended that I’d even suggested it,

“Be a gentleman,” I say mockingly, “sleep on the floor.”

“I’d rather die,” Jameson says flatly, his disgust evident.

“I will find a knife and make it happen,” I hiss, hoping he realises I might actually go through this threat.

His eyes brow fly to his forehead and his eyes widen, “what?”

��What?” I say quickly.

He shakes his head folds his arms and turns to me with a cocky smile, “I’m sleeping in the bed whether you like it or not.”

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” I reply, kicking his shin, hard.

He lets out a string of colourful words as he crumples to the floor holding his leg. Next time, I make myself a mental note that, I should aim for the groin.

“You are one piece of work,” he winced, standing up again, towering over me, “but you’re my piece of work, so it makes all of this worth it.”

“Your piece of work?” I scoff.

“Oh so you like being mine?” he quips, a grin safely situated on his eager lips.

“Possessiveness makes a man ugly,” I say flatly and bluntly, hoping he might shut his ever moving mouth for just a moment.

“So you thought I was pretty before?” Jameson asks, though it seems to be more of an assumption than a question.

“Shut your mouth,” I snap, viciousness rolling from the tip of tongue, the odd bitter taste still left in my mouth even after it’s closed.

“Can you shut it for me?” he pouts, mockingly, lolling his head to the side, “with a kiss perhaps?”

“In your wildest wet dreams Hawthorne,” I deadpan, my face robbed of all expression.

Silence. Never was there more bliss than this moment of absolute silen-

“I think you want to kiss me.”

His voice is like a never ending ringing in my ears, torturing me to the grave. Leave it to Jameson Hawthorne to ruin the mere seconds of peace I was beginning to enjoy. And his audacity made me want to run through a wall head first. Me? Want to kiss him? Well wouldn’t he be lucky.

“You have fun with that thought,” I sigh, beginning to walk away.

“No really, that’s why you’re so uptight all the time,” he says casually.

Done. I am done with this guy.

“Uptight!” I yell, “uptight! I’m uptight because I’m being forced to spend three days with the most insufferable person on this earth and now I have to share a bed you as well!”

“Breathe princess,” he replies calmly to get under my skin, “the world’s not ending.”

“No,” I laugh bitterly, “the world is not ending but I think I’d much rather face Armageddon than a night with you.”

“Oh c’mmon princess,” he shrugs, “it’s only a night, surely I’m not that bad.”

“You are, undoubtably, you are,” I grit through my teeth, “I’m asking to switch.”

“This is the only room left in this whole place,” he points out.

I knew he was right. I’d been there when the damn owner of the place had given us the last room key and had told us there would be no way to change the room if it was unsatisfactory as there were no more rooms to give. I didn’t think it’d be a problem…until now that is.

“I’d rather sleep outside,” I state.

“Then go, be my guest,” Jameson says, “I’m not the one making a fuss thought now I think I should be.”

I ignore his comment, “Aren’t you rich? Can’t you just pay them?”

“Are you asking me, a man of honourable intention, to bribe innocent people,” he gasps melodramatically, batting his eyelashes.

I think he thinks he’s being funny. I’m not laughing.

“Honourable is a bit too compliments to yourself in you ask me,” I snort.

“Well no one did, so that’s that one sorted,” he smiles, matter-of-factly.

“Oh would you just-“

If he hadn’t interrupted me there I would’ve spouted language that would’ve condemned me to an eternity of hell.

“It’s not that big of a deal anyway and I don’t know why you’re making it one,” he says, “we’re sleeping in a bed for a night… unless…”

“Unless what?” I ask curiously.

I didn’t like the sound of the smile creeping up in his voice. I didn’t like how confided he seemed or his natural relaxed demeanour.

“Unless you don’t want to because you’re afraid you’ll like it,” he says, biting his bottom lip slightly.

Like it? Like it? Just when I thought his head couldn’t get any further up his arse.

I bark out a laugh, “you’re mental.”

“I think I’m actually very smart,” says Mr.BigFatEgo.

“The last thing I’m scared of is liking you, I wouldn’t let my standards drop that low,” I tell him.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night princess, though tonight it might be me that helps you sleep better,” he winks.

I wished to slap him across the face right there and then. So hard, so loud and so painfully that he wouldn’t be able to sleep on that side for weeks, so it would sting for hours one end, so a red mark would stain to damned cheek I left it on. I fantasise even breaking a jaw but I chose to stand still and say nothing and just stare.

“What?” he teases, his voice changing as if he were talking to a small child, “Cat got your tongue?”

“I’m going for a shower,” I retort.

“Feeling saucy?” Jameson smirks.

I don’t bother to reply, too tired of his games and his stupid antics. I need a break, I need a shower and I need a second of quiet. So I turn swiftly on my heel and leave him stood there. I hope the smirk falls from his face.

***

Once the two of us had showered, we both cautiously crawled onto one side of the bed. You’d have thought there was an invisible force field keeping the two of us apart from the way we were sitting. There was no sound now. Not even background TV noise, just air thick with tension. All day I’d longed for silence and now it had finally arrived I wish more than anything for some noise.

“Are we going to sleep?” Jameson asks.

I look at him for the first time since my shower, making direct eye contact. Piercing green irises stare back at me, telling stories of many woods and forests. I’d never really looked at his eyes like this before.

“I don’t like this,” I blurt out, gesturing to the sleeping arrangement.

“Well you’re going to have to live with it aren’t you, princess?” he says, booping my nose.

“Touch my face again and I will bite you,” I threaten, my voice low and dangerous.

“Ooo feeling flirty are we? I could get down on some biting action,” he smirks, wiggling his eyebrows , “I look forward to it.”

“Are you proud of that one, aren’t you?” I say, my tone as blunt as my will to live at this point.

He doesn’t reply.

“That’s sad,” I hum.

“So are we sleeping or do you want to stay up all night discussing your troubles with me?” he asks turning to look at me.

“Sleeping,” I grumble, laying down with my back towards him.

“Goodnight princess,” he whispers, as he turns off the lamp.

“I hope you die in your sleep,” I murmur back.

He chuckles softly and I hear him roll over. I don’t remember anything after that.

***

When I wake up I’m immediately pissed off. It’s the morning and I still feel groggy and unrefreshed. The mattress feels a little different. I slowly open my eyes that seemed as though they’d been velcroed shut. That’s when I come to a horrible realisation.

I’m on his chest. I am laying on Jameson Hawthorne’s chest. And he has his arms around me. We are CUDDLING. I’m in the same bed, hugging a man I despise more than anyone on this planet. I want to die.

“Couldn’t keep your hands off me could you princess,” says a familiar, aggravating voice.

I scream, jumping away from him quickly. Why the hell were we positioned like that? How could that just have happened? Why did it have to happen? I curse myself for ever agreeing to sleeping in the stupid bed with that.

“Jesus woman it’s 7am, no need to bust my eardrums,” Jameson complains, caressing his ears.

In any normal circumstance is would’ve had a go at him for calling me ‘woman’ like that, but this circumstance was anything but I normal.

“What was that?” I pant, “why were you on me?”

“Actually princess, I think you’ll find it was the other way around,” he says coolly, “you were on me.”

“You did that on purpose,” I spit, my eyes pinned to him, glaring furiously.

“I most certainly did not,” he replies, his voice louder, more dominant, defensive. He looks slightly offended I would even suggest such a thing.

“Yes you did,” I tell him.

But he doesn’t care what I’m saying, his eyes are fixated on my head, “your hair is a little messed up princess,”

I groan, angry and embarrassed and all that’s in between. I comb a hand through the mass of knots, trying to tame them and failing.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he grins, cocking his head to one side.

“Piss off,” I growl, narrowing my eyes at him.

“Hey!” he exclaims, “we were cuddling a second ago.”

“No we weren’t, that never happened,” I say quickly.

“I’m pretty sure it did,” he grins.

“Jameson Hawthorne I swear to everything on this earth if you do not shut your mouth you will be sorry,” I murmur, threat etched in every decibel of my tone.

And he shut it. He actually shut it… for about two seconds

He leans back and the corners of his mouth turn upward, he’s suspiciously amused, “I’ll make you a wager.”

“I don’t want your wager,” I snap.

“Then I won’t shut up,” he shrugs.

“What’s the wager?” I respond almost immediately. Now he knows this is going to get to me he’ll use it against me. And I can’t have that. He can’t have the power.

“Kiss me and I won’t utter a word of what happened in this room to anyone,” he whispers, “not you, not my brothers, no one… our little secret?”

“I sincerely hope you’re joking,” I force a laugh.

“Just one little kiss and it all goes away,” Jameson murmurs, his voice alluring.

“No,” I shake my head. I will not agree, I will not fall down the slippery slope, I will not allow myself to be in this position.

“Okay fine,” he shrugs, smirking, “I suppose everyone shall know about your night spent with the infamous Jameson Hawthorne. Hey, it might make national news-“

I cut him off, pushing my lips onto his. Hard. I close my eyes. He kisses back, intensely, hungrily, passionately. And I can’t seem to stop either. All this anger, all this hate, all this built up fury is finally being let go. I want him to taste my hatred for him, I want him to feel my loathing, to ache when he gets a touch of my aggravation. He doesn’t to hold back and neither do I. His hands are snaking around my waist and mine are buried deep in his hair. I know I need to take a breath but my brain has somehow stopped functioning and all it wants is his lips pressed against my own. I can feel his hands making their way up my back, his touch more tentative than I’d ever imagined. Mine travel down to his next, where I cling to him, my nails digging into the delicate skin. Does he feel the pain? Does he care? If he does he doesn’t show it. His hands are now in my hair, tugging and ripping at every strand. But I don’t care. Because I know that this is his hate for me that I’m feeling and it’s giving me this buzz. This buzz of electrical passion and I don’t know why. He’s so rough with me and yet so gentle. The movement is so powerful and yet when we collide he treats my being like it’s a glass ballerina. Like I might break into a million shards and shatter onto the ground. And suddenly I’m pushing him away, my hands act on their own instinct. We both stand there, the only sound is our panting breaths, as we lock eyes.

“I upheld my end of the bargain, now you uphold yours,” I breathe heavily, my chest heaving up and down.

“You have my word,” Jameson whispers, smiling as he brings a soft and gentle finger to your lips.

a/n: I actually had the most fun writing this and I’m a actually quite proud of it… so hope you guys enjoyed as well. As always, requests are open and let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list :) thanks for reading 🤍🤍

TIG masterlist

[patheticpeoplesupreme]

Fic Title if I had one:

A little piece of me in every body

a one shot

The door opened gently on one of the days he’d preferred silence. Normally, the silence unnerves him, irritates him even, but he feels far too tired to entertain himself with meaningless tunes and jokes.

“Airplane?”

He hums, not looking up from his paperwork, there’s only one person who ever calls him that, and Shen Qingqiu was the one person he didn’t mind listening to on those types of days. He thinks it’s because it’s comforting to be around someone he hadn’t made up in his head. It makes him feel real.

He felt irritated by his king a few times he’d portaled into his office. Eventually, Shang Qinghua had started to make up a mood chart—thing, to which Mobei—Jun had taken note of and respected his boundaries.

Even his martial siblings had noticed which sort of surprised him, he had assumed that they didn’t really care.

He hears some shuffling from wood clinking along wood and soon, the sound of paper flipping every few minutes.

“I’ve noticed something from Binghe.” Shen Qingqiu murmured after a while of quiet.

Shang Qinghua continues reading.

“He’s… well, sensitive sometimes. And clingy and hyperactive.”

“Mn… well, the clingy part might be my fault,” He giggled slightly, “I did advise him to be sticky in order to face your love.”

A deep sigh makes itself known, he knows the man is doing it for dramatic purposes. So he snickers before retuning his focus.

. . .

“Did you project yourself onto him?”

“Don’t all authors do?” He replies genuinely. It earns him an agreeing snort.

“Most authors do,” Shen Qingqiu amended quietly, “but this entire world… feels more like a projection of you more than any other novel.”

Shang Qinghua stops in his tracks, lifting his brush away from the paper, making sure the ink doesn’t ruin the paper, still, he doesn’t say anything.

He hid his eyes under his bangs.

“In most novels, there’s a person of every archetype with each person having a wildly different backstory.”

“My novel has that.” Shang Qinghua muttered.

“I’m getting to that.” He retorted.

“Okay??”

“It’s just that… the backstories of your characters feels like it’s overlapping.”

“Are you critiquing my bad writing again?? I’m not in the mood..”He frowned.

Shen Qingqiu shot him a dry look, “That’s not what I meant. I just meant that there’s a lot story beats that just… looks like a pattern. Parts of the story are so incredibly specific that it makes me think that… this was a part of you that you believed in. Even if 50% of the book was based on popular tropes that is.”

“Okay. And?” He asked, unimpressed, his mood declining the more he spoke. Goodness he thought he could’ve had a break today. He guessed not.

Shen Qinghua looks up at the sound of the other standing up, a weird look present on his face.

“Most of your characters, the main ones at least, have a fear of being abandoned.” He comes closer to Shang Qinghua’s table. “Do you fear that too, Airplane shooting towards the sky?”

“I think that you’re trying to rile me up on purpose,” he growled lowly, trying not to show that he had been affected by what the other man had said. He didn’t really notice. It was kind of unintentional, but now that he’d given him a bit of evidence, he couldn’t stop his mind from whirling with thoughts.

“Yue Qingyuan,” Shen Qingqiu started after a long time of having a staring contest, “was terrified of losing Shen Jiu, to the point thatwhen the man had hated him, despised him and scorned him, he never defended himself because he thought he deserved it. And even if Shen Jiu had no love left for him, Yue Qingyuan was fine with it as long as Shen Jiu stayed.”

“Mm.”

“And as an opposite, Shen Jiu was so incredibly terrified of being abandoned again, he decides to make sure no one could get close to him so that he wouldn’t be abandoned. So that he wouldn’t feel that sinking disappointment and pain when a promise made by a loved one has been broken.”

He wishes he could say that it hadn’t sounded familiar. The longer Shen Qingqiu talked, the more he sank in his chair trying not to tear up.

He wanted to ask why. Why he was torturing Shang Qinghua with this information. He tried not to think of his parents. Of his highschool group mates.

“Mobei—jun with parents who neglected him, someone who would let you hit him so that you wouldn’t ever leave his side ever again. You said that he was so desperate—“

“Okay!? So what??” He finally snapped, getting tired of these questions, and on such a bad day too, he thought the two of their were close friends dammit.

“Airplane.” Shen Qingqiu hissed, “tell me the truth here.”

“What!?” He demanded.

“How much of this was intentional and how much was a reflection of your own life?”

“Why? So you can make fun of me!? Critique my oh so tragic backstory? Tell me, ‘wow he’s such a whiny ass bitch for—“

Shen Qingqiu squeezed his hand out of nowhere, startling him so hard that his mind went blank. “Because you’ve done a lot to help me, so I want to help you.”

“S—So it’s a debt now!?” He scowled, his defenses building itself up very quickly, (channeling his inner shenjiu amirite) trying to push Shen Qingqiu’s hand away, but to no avail, the man was firm in his hold.

“Because you’re one of my best friends and I love you like one of my family, idiot.”

Shang Qinghua sniffled “Evil, you are.”

“Mhm.” The bastard hummed disinterestedly.

Note: sqq’s been trying to approach him for weeks, that’s probably why SQH’s in a bad mood, cuz why is sqq trying to therapise him or something, it should be his job, listening to other people and then doing the work

“I guess— I guess we can start with Zhangmen—shixiong’s part.” He whispered hours later when they’re both on the couch, Shang Qinghua’s head laying on Shen Qingqiu’s lap.

Shen Qing—no, Shen Yuan nodded.

“Obviously I don’t have a super depressing backstory like he does,” He started with a dry laugh, his gaze heavy and sad.

“I’m just... a people pleaser like Zhangmen—shixiong. Unable to say no, especially when it comes to paperwork. I guess it started when my parents started fighting when I was younger. Elementary school, I think? It was subtle. Maybe. I—I don’t remember.”

“My mom was the more emotional one. Had a short temper for all of my childhood. And… my dad was calmer, but just as temperamental.”

He thinks about when he was writing an outline about Yue Qingyuan’s and Shen Jiu’s verbal fights with each other, Yue Qi’s guilt for not being able to do enough even though he had tried. Even though it wasn’t his fault that he’d been isolated for so long without proper encouragement.

Maybe this is where Airplane had split parts of him.

He remembers the time after writing the draft, writing out all of his pent up emotions into his characters, he remembers feeling exhausted. At the time, he had thought it was solely because of the word count. But maybe it’d been because he’d been losing his heart all along.

“Mama was passive aggressive and Baba couldn’t care less. When I turned 13, no one was happy. So I tried to be what they wanted to be, I guess.”

He remembers a few chapters where Lou Binghe had met the parents of some of his wives and how they’d hated his personality. How he’d switched up a more than a few times to make them happy, and for what? In the end, most of his wives had been unhappy anyway. Enraged at her parents that he had to fake his personality to gain their approval. Sometimes it ended badly, sometimes it ended good.

Decades after writing those plots, he thinks now that maybe it’s not just a trope anymore. He thinks he can place himself into the spot of the wife. Trying to please the unpleasable.

“Sometimes it worked and they were happy with me. Mama would buy me desserts I liked, lecture me fondly and gives me a big hug. Baba would actually come hang out with me for once, promise he’ll come back after the divorce and then leave.”

Shen Jiu’s tendency to hide behind a wall of barbed wire. The man was like a rose bush with the spikiest thorns. And Yue Qi was a gardener with no gloves. He’d been waiting for years. Desperately hoping that he hadn’t been abandoned.

“When I turned 20, I saw some picture on the internet. Baba had a new family and he didn’t even come to tell me.” Shang Qinghua finally let out a sob, the first time ever admitting it to anyone.

“It—it’s not like I had a bad life, but—but it sucked being the child stuck in between, so I just gave up.”

Shen Qingqiu lifted Shang Qinghua by the shoulders and wrapped him in a warm embrace.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Mm.” Shang Qinghua sniffled.

—

“For parts of Mobei—Jun’s story I guess I just knew a guy who lashed out a lot. I mean, I was never the type to physically mean, so.” He shrugged, “i don’t know what state I was when I was writing him.”

“My friend didn’t have good parents, had a shitty uncle, I felt bad for using his story. But… he was so quiet, he never told anyone what he was feeling and in the end, I was feeling rage for him. When I said he was created as my ideal romantic partner. I guess it was because I never really knew a healthy relationship up close to write about? That’s why a lot of the wives seemed flat, I guess. Haha, you— you were right about the projection.

“What happened to your friend?”

Shang Qinghua shrugged.

“Became an overseas student I think? I remember seeing his face on the news once so he probably got all popular and got forgot about me. Think he was studying law or accounting.”

—

“I based Liu Qingge and his sister over that friend too actually.”

Shen Qingqiu blinks in surprise when Shang Qinghua has appeared during his lunch break.

“Remember?”

“Ah, yeah, how so?”

—

“Though he hated their parents, him and his sister was super close, kept in close contact always. He was a good big brother. He told me stories about her a few times.”

“So the Xiao Liu…based off of your friends sister?”

“Vaguely.”

—

“How bout you?” Shang qinghua tilted his head.

Shen Qingqiu smiled sadly, “I had two sisters and an older brother.”

“I’m sorry. It must be lonely.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t trigger the choking hazard.”

Both of them laugh at the dark humour.

—

Funnily enough I don’t have any head canons about SY’s family. I guess I like thinking that his eldest bro has a little bit Shen Jiu’s snarky ness and mood temperaments. So he’s a little defensive and a little protective.

And the Youngest sister also loved stories just like him

Youngest sister wanted to be just like Shen yuan, all smart, sassy, and kind

[sweetkpopmusings]

long for you (act one) | h. hyunjin <3

a/n: hello and welcome to the first act of my hyunjin fic :,-) it is past my bedtime, so please ignore any typos lol. if you'd like to be added to the tag list, you can reply to this post or send me an ask ! pics not mine <3

♡ find all parts here ♡

content: fluff, romance, fake dating, angst, a happy ending | wc: 3.5k | warnings: none really! | pairing: nonbinary!painter!hyunjin x gn!writer!reader | requests: open

synopsis: y/n is a writer with a long-awaited, well-deserved career opportunity. despite the excitement, there’s one major problem: the publisher expects a modern love story, equally romcom-like and authentic, but y/n lacks the inspiration to write something worth reading. through a chance meeting with mutual friends, y/n and hyunjin bond over upcoming deadlines and creative blocks. before the conversation ends, they discover that the ridiculous plot of fake dating might just work to solve their inspirational dry spell.

act one: a modern love story

groaning, you push your laptop to the side and rest your head against your hands.

felix, from the other side of your dining table, holds back a laugh, “that bad, huh?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes despite them being closed, “worse, probably.”

you hear felix shift in his chair, and you know he’s resting his chin on his hands, his classic flower pose he uses whenever you need his smile to cheer up. letting the frustration hang over you, a few minutes pass before you look up to see the sweet boy across from you. when you do, you can’t help the small smile that breaks through your bitter face.

“hah! i knew you couldn’t resist me,” felix teases, leaning back in his seat but making no move to take his attention away from you.

knowing he’s going to ask you what’s wrong, you explain, “so, you know how earlier this week i booked that gig with the publishing company?”

“yeah, the ghostwriting job for Odd One Out, right?”

you nod, “exactly. this is supposed to be a great thing. arguably the best thing that could happen for my writing career, even if it’s a book my name can’t be on, since it’s at least a foot in the door. and i’m not saying i’m ungrateful–”

“but?”

“i’ve been trying all week to come up with even the smallest idea for the prompt they gave me, and it feels as though this is the worst writer’s block i’ve ever had and ever will experience.”

felix frowns, sympathetic, “do you think maybe the pressure of such a big opportunity is getting to you? i know all of us, at one point or another, have hit a wall because of imposter syndrome or just plain anxiety.”

you let his words bounce around your mind for a little. they don’t seem incorrect–surely such a monumental opportunity would leave you feeling a little apprehensive or stressed–but they don’t seem to capture the full picture. 

“i think…” you glance at felix, a little helplessly, but he just waits patiently until you find the right words, “that’s definitely part of it. if i’m being honest though, i think the biggest obstacle i’m facing is the subject itself.”

“which is?” felix cocks an eyebrow.

you drag your laptop back in front of you and open the window with the email the company sent you detailing your project, “you are tasked with writing a modern love story. one that swoons readers with classic tropes, one that pulls on their heartstrings with the right amount of angst, and, ultimately, one that makes us believe two imperfect people can find the perfect relationship together. we look forward to your first manuscript!”

“oh, i see…”

“yeah. they’ve asked me to write a story that i have practically nothing in my own experiences to draw from. i can’t exactly copy stories that are already out there when the whole point of this novel is that the characters are human and believable. they need me to write a story with heart, with messiness, and certainly with a happy ending. i’ve had the mess a few times, sure, but not for long enough to keep anybody’s attention if i turn the story into something more than a casual conversation piece over drinks.”

you push your laptop away, not wanting to look at the prompt or empty word document for another second. instead, you opt for a swig of your coffee, praying the caffeine would lift your spirits, if nothing else.

felix’s brow is furrowed as the gears in his head turn quickly. it’s hard not to laugh at his expression, cute and sincere simultaneously. you keep yourself quiet, smiling in appreciation of your friend’s genuine concern for your professional predicament.

“first, i’ll admit that this sucks. i can’t imagine how frustrating it’d be to feel almost…disconnected from an assignment you were so excited to receive. i can’t exactly offer help with my relationship history,” felix laughs, sharing your pain of bad luck in love, “but maybe if we combine our disappointments with jisung’s hopeless romantic outlook, you could come up with something?”

you sigh. it wouldn’t be out of the question to ask jisung for help. he’s a dear friend, just like felix, and he never struggles to write a love song for work. creative collaboration wouldn’t hurt, right? well, maybe it hurts your pride a little to go running to your brilliant music producer and songwriter best friend for advice on your first-ever real book deal. at this point, though, what other choice do you have?

“yeah, maybe you’re right.”

felix grins, “let’s go visit him at the studio then! we can bring him lunch in exchange for his assistance!”

“i mean…he is our best friend, so i don’t see why we have to pay him,” you tease, already packing up your things.

“i was going to pay for everyone’s food, but i guess we can all just fend for ourselves–”

“no! i’m being dumb and rude! buying lunch for jisung is a wonderful idea!”

felix laughs, texting jisung to alert him of your ETA and to get his order from your usual restaurant.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

jisung tosses his spoon into the nearly empty takeout container and claps his hands together, “okay! let’s get started!”

you sigh, stretching your arms and neck before pulling out your laptop. felix settles in the corner, ready to spend time on his phone while you and jisung work your magic.

“can i see the prompt they sent you?”

nodding, you hand jisung your laptop and explain, “i understand what they want. almost too well, probably. the issue is i have absolutely no inspiration for it.”

“yeah, i could’ve guessed that,” jisung teases, nervously laughing after the death glare you send him.

felix chimes in from his spot in the studio’s corner, “play nice, jisung! they’re practically baring their soul to you asking for help.”

“okay, let’s not be dramatic here,” you shake your hand to dissipate the idea that you’re being as vulnerable as you are right now.

“drama might help, actually,” felix suggests, not looking up from his phone.

you look over to jisung, waiting for him to weigh in. a bit to your dismay, jisung agrees with felix.

“so you’re saying my life is too boring for me to write this book?”

jisung shakes his head, “no! i’m saying your love life is too boring. i say that with peace and love, of course–”

“how can you–”

jisung continues before you fall down a rabbit hole of bickering, “i think the reason i can write so many love songs is because i put myself out there. sure, i fall too hard too fast and get my heart broken more often than i’d like to admit, but i am able to do what i do because i let my heart experience everything. i haven’t been in real, capital-L love many times; however, even the littlest of loves, the glimpses of a future with someone, those can be a bigger source of inspiration than you’d expect.”

“wow, jisung, that was…really deep.”

you chuckle at felix’s response, before looking at the very earnest jisung again, “it’s not like i haven’t loved someone before. you remember…”

your voice trails off, too afraid to say his name, too afraid to bring the memories of your first love into the room with you. jisung nods knowingly and speaks quickly enough to prevent you from searching for words to fill the empty space.

“i could never forget that, y/n. maybe that could be something you pull from. i’m more than happy to retell you some of my romantic mishaps–you know i’ve got plenty–but i think, for a story as heartfelt as the one they want you to write, for a story as real as the one you want to create, it needs to come from the perspective of you now, not you then.”

you sigh, finding it impossible to disagree with his advice. for as much as you and felix tease him for getting his hopes up with every person he feels the slightest bit of a connection to, you both would admit in a heartbeat that he is the most well-versed lover in the world. you wished, secretly, that you could muster up the courage he does without even blinking an eye. you just weren’t wired like that, especially after you got your heart broken a few years ago.

“so what? do i start dating now and hope that i get enough romance before the first draft is due in three months?”

“good luck with that,” felix scoffs, “there are way too many duds on dating apps these days.”

jisung shoots felix a frustrated look, but he just shrugs in reply. 

“cool, so no dating but i need to fall in love. do either of you happen to have cupid on speed dial?”

they laugh, and felix adds, “if only you could be in a fake dating fanfic or something. then you’d really have something to work with.”

all three of you burst into laughter at the idea, and, once you calm down, jisung says, “actually…there might be something to that.”

“you can’t be serious?” you raise an eyebrow skeptically.

jisung puts his hands up defensively, “hear me out! it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to fake date someone you know, if it’s for the sake of work. between the three of us, we could probably find someone!”

“no way am i sending out requests for a fake partner. that couldn’t work, and it would be so embarrassing.” 

you shiver at the idea. jisung doesn’t budge, though he admits that it’s a long shot for it to work. felix suggests that you three reminisce about jisung’s recent romantic pursuits, which you do for a couple of hours. when it’s time for you to pack your things, you’re barely farther than the starting line. jisung apologizes that he couldn’t be more help, and felix offers to bake you your favorite treat as consolation. you assure both of them that they shouldn’t feel bad–you accept felix’s baked goods, of course–but, try as you might, you can’t get rid of the slump in your shoulders. this book is supposed to be a big step towards your dream. this story is supposed to be your gateway to being the writer you were meant to be. you never expected it to go smoothly, but you have to admit that you wish something as easy as a fanfic trope would solve your problem.

as felix says goodnight, he smiles softly, “hey, y/n, don’t be too hard on yourself, okay? it’s frustrating, and it feels like there’s no way out, but you’re smart and capable and strong enough to see it through. plus, the universe will take care of it. someone will show up sooner rather than later, and you’ll have that story in no time!”

you smile, grateful for his neverending efforts to make you feel better, “thanks, sunshine. i’ll try to have the same kind of hope you have, despite everything.”

“despite everything,” he nods firmly before turning away to head back home himself.

you stare at the door, your place quiet, save the humming sound of your appliances, and you wonder how fate could have anything to offer you with such short notice.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

felix picks a few stray pieces of lint off your top and smiles proudly once your outfit is perfect. even though you’re feeling nervous, you can’t help but smile back at your friend’s beaming face.

“thank you again for coming with me to this, y/n. i don’t know if i could survive a whole company event without someone i like by my side.”

“don’t you have changbin? i’m sure he’d happily stay by your side all night.”

“i do,” felix agrees, “but he said he was bringing a plus-one, so i didn’t want to third wheel.”

“ah, how lovely it feels to be chosen as a preventative for third-wheeling,” you tease as felix opens the venue door for you.

“jisung isn’t the only one who can be romantic,” felix giggles and nudges your shoulder with his, helping to relax your nerves.

the venue is rather large, and there are more strangers here than you’d prefer. thankfully, you see changbin waving from a distance, so you know there won’t be any awkward small talk with felix’s other coworkers to get through. though they met through work, changbin and felix have been friends for years, thus making you a friend in changbin’s eyes. you take a couple of drinks from a waiter as changbin not-so-smoothly rushes his way towards you and felix, a tall person close behind him. as felix and changbin greet each other, you do a quick sweep over changbin’s plus-one. he’s well-dressed, probably the most fashionable one in the whole place, and frustratingly statuesque in appearance. his black hair frames his face and brushes his neck ever so slightly, and the only thing preventing him from looking dark and mysterious is the softness of his features, particularly his sweet brown eyes.

“y/n! this is hyunjin,” changbin grins, gesturing to the person beside him.

“hi y/n, it’s nice to meet you,” hyunjin smiles, voice lilting delicately.

you smile, unable to resist the naturally playful glint in his eye, “it’s nice to meet you too, hyunjin. how do you know changbin?”

“we met back in university,” hyunjin answers, “we lived together for the first two years.”

“best two years of my life!” changbin wraps an arm around hyunjin, and hyunjin laughs loudly.

“cute!” felix smiles, “so glad i get to finally meet you in person, hyunjin.”

“likewise,” hyunjin nods.

the conversation jumps around, mostly directed by changbin and felix telling anecdotes about the various coworkers that pass by. you and hyunjin laugh and ask questions, gasping at the drama and ridiculousness that pervades their workplace. eventually, felix asks what hyunjin does for work, and you’re surprised to learn that he’s a painter. or, rather, he works in design to pay the bills and paints in all of his free time, showing works wherever and whenever he can to build his reputation in the city.

“that’s so cool!” felix exclaims, and then points to you, “y/n is a writer. i’m sure you two could relate on a bunch of stuff since you’re both creative professionals.”

“what do you write?” hyunjin asks, looking at you intently as he takes a sip of his drink.

“fiction, mostly. i’ve taken plenty of different freelance gigs in the past that gave me experience writing all sorts of things, but i prefer writing short stories and novels.”

changbin lights up, “oh that’s right! congratulations are in order!”

you smile sheepishly, and explain, after hyunjin asks, that you just signed a ghostwriting book deal with a publishing company.

“that’s incredible! i know it couldn’t have been easy to secure that. i’d love to read some of your work since you’ve clearly got talent.”

“thank you, hyunjin, but i don’t know about that,” you laugh a little, “we’ll see if i have enough talent to write this book.”

hyunjin’s brow furrows, and felix responds, “they’re having some writer’s block. the prompt is a little…out of their wheelhouse. i have no doubt they’ll figure it out though!”

you pat felix’s shoulder lovingly, “yes, he believes that i’ll figure it out as soon as the universe sends me someone to fake date.”

changbin tilts his head in confusion, “is it a fake dating story?”

you swallow a sip of your drink and shake your head, “no, it’s supposed to be a ‘modern love story.’ full of angst and authenticity, and, most importantly, it’s supposed to be human enough to make us all believe it’s possible.”

hyunjin chuckles when you roll your eyes, which makes you blush a little as you realize he’s watching you so closely. 

“well, if you need someone to fake date,” changbin grins, “hyunjin would probably be a good fit.”

it’s time for you to tilt your head in confusion, “wait. hyunjin isn’t your boyfriend?”

hyunjin throws his head back and cackles while changbin giggles, “no, unfortunately we’re just friends. maybe one day i can break through, but five years down the line, i’m still getting rejected.”

“oh, stop pouting!” hyunjin smacks changbin’s shoulder, “you don’t actually want to date me.”

“and how would you know that?” changbin wiggles his eyebrows, “can’t a guy dream of dating someone like you?”

“it seems like you’re going to be dreaming for a long time, changbin. you might just not be their type,” felix teases.

their type? 

“anyway,” changbin says after his giggles die down, “hyunjin has been struggling with the theme for an exhibition they have coming up. maybe you two could help each other out!”

“what’s giving you writer’s–or, should i say, painter’s block?” you ask.

hyunjin chuckles, “the theme is ‘yearning.’ my friend, jeongin, is the gallery director and has been on a real angst kick these days after meeting someone special. not that i don’t have my fair share of yearning experiences, but i just can’t crack into something deep enough to create something that matters, you know?”

you sure did know, which is how you two spent almost the entire night discussing inspiration, love, heartache, creativity, longing, and everything else possible. eventually, felix and changbin leave you two alone to talk to their other coworkers, given that they couldn’t get a word in edge-wise with how passionately the two of you were talking. if you were honest, you hardly noticed they were gone. that’s just how captivating the conversation, and hyunjin, were. 

“ugh, it feels so good to talk to someone who gets it,” hyunjin sighs.

“i agree,” you smile, “it may not solve the problem, but it reduces the stress.”

“cheers to that!”

you and hyunjin clink your glasses together, and you reply, “also, sorry if i misgendered you when i assumed you were changbin’s boyfriend. totally my bad!”

hyunjin waves his hand in the air, “don’t worry about it! you weren’t exactly wrong. i use they/he pronouns, so technically i could be a boyfriend. just not changbin’s.”

you two laugh at this, and you’re relieved that you didn’t unintentionally get off on the wrong foot with someone who can relate to your current creative predicament so deeply.

“actually, speaking of boyfriends…” hyunjin trails off, waiting to get your full attention.

“what about them?”

“i’d be happy to be your fake one, if you really did want to try that out.”

“oh, you don’t have to do that,” you laugh a little, “that was an idea my friends brought up, but i didn’t take it seriously.”

hyunjin nods, “i see. well, even if it seems ridiculous, i think it could work. hell, i’d be down to try it too. i’m feeling pretty frustrated about this painting series, and maybe something out of pocket like a fanfic trope could do the trick.”

you observe them, trying to catch a sign that he’s joking, “really?”

“yeah,” they shrug, “what’s the harm? you’re a writer who needs inspiration, and i’m a painter who needs inspiration. instead of doing some dramatic spiritual artist retreat in the middle of nowhere, we take each other on some dates and explore the ideas of love and yearning together. sort of like a…group project!”

his eyes light up, and you can feel yourself getting won over already by their charm, “when do you have to finish your paintings?”

“i have to bring them to jeongin in three months.”

huh.

“that’s…well, that timing’s sort of perfect,” you admit, “my first manuscript is due in three months.”

hyunjin grins, “so it sounds like we might give this fake dating thing a try?”

you sigh, unsure of what you could be getting yourself into, “what would that even look like?”

hyunjin hums, putting their hand to their chin, deep in thought. you let a silence fall between you two, hoping one of you can come up with a good idea. your bet is on hyunjin, though, because you can’t begin to think through how a fake dating situation between two artists, two muses, should go.

hyunjin snaps his fingers, “i’ve got it! let’s say we just take each other on dates for the next three months. no expectations for the dates, no strict schedule, and no pressure to actually develop feelings or fall in love. we spend time together naturally, go through the experiences of getting to know someone, and we use that for our work. if, after a few weeks, it isn’t doing the trick, then we call it off. no harm, no foul. what do you say?”

maybe it was their enthusiasm. maybe you’re a sucker for a beautiful person with a creative mind. maybe you trust that someone who is good friends with sweetheart changbin could only have the best of intentions. maybe, just maybe, you trust what felix said the other day about the universe giving you what you need for this book to work out. whatever it is, something convinced you to stretch your hand out toward hyunjin.

hyunjin shakes your hand, and you smile, “no harm, no foul.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

tag list: @velvetmoonlght (<333 tysm)

[saintsenara]

Call for asks: I’ve noticed you’ve avoided saying anything about Jegulus for the last few asks so…. Jegulus 😈

anon please, i’m not avoiding saying anything about jegulus, i genuinely don’t know her.

but, fine, let’s imagine i do.

i don’t enjoy it as a pairing, not because i think it’s unfeasible [in my view, the joy of fanfiction is taking a completely implausible premise and making it work], but because i don’t like the way that the fandom which has built up around jegulus expects certain tropes and characterisations which turn the characters into just profoundly uninteresting people.

and this is the case for all the marauders and marauders-adjacent characters [i’m looking at you, fanon barty crouch jr.!], undoubtedly because the era has so little actual canon material that fanon becomes canon and authors run from there. and that’s great - anyone writing stories in a world hostile to hobbies and creativity is a triumph - but the standard way of writing jegulus which has coalesced around this fanon doesn’t appeal to me in the slightest.

there are many jegulus tropes i don’t love: how it always becomes a parallel wolfstar [james and peter would be the cultured choice if we have to do that]; how it’s just drarry but in the seventies [when the cultured choice for that is lucius malfoy/arthur weasley]; how james becomes a tediously good person when the evidence of canon is that he’s a bit of a dick; how it relies on an exaggerated portrayal of orion and walburga’s abusive parenting which misses the fact that regulus evidently colluded with them against sirius; how it assumes the marauders aren’t intensely codependent [sirius mentions-lily-once black is definitely going to let his brother hang around with them, sure]; how snape is sometimes there and always a knob. james and regulus are also so similar in terms of background, social position at school etc. that there’s no juicy spark [as in snack, for example]. and, of course, prongsfoot is canon.

and so on… 

but the biggest reason i can’t get into it? 

regulus is a death eater, and not by mistake.

now, we all love a fluffy no-voldemort au, but unless that is a jegulus author’s stated setting, they are going to have to deal with the fact that regulus fucking loves the dark lord. this is a teenage boy who has press clippings about voldemort’s terrorism taped above his bed. he knows exactly what he’s getting into and he likes it.

indeed, my reading of deathly hallows is that regulus’ decision to go and get the locket has absolutely nothing to do with a damascene conversion that conducting a campaign of sectarian violence against muggles and muggleborns is bad, but that learning of the existence of the horcrux - and also voldemort’s lack of respect towards his property, kreacher [after all, we see an attitude expressed canonically by wizards that other people have no right to interfere in how you treat your slaves] - makes clear to him that the dark lord’s aims are not oligarchy, with those from pureblood families ruling in happy condescension over a ministry which is fundamentally unchanged, but ruling in majesty as an immortal absolute monarch. his death is a repudiation of his beliefs, yes, but it is a repudiation of the fact that he believed voldemort was his champion, rather than that he believed voldemort was wrong.

and, actually, i don’t think this in and of itself makes jegulus insurmountable. james is a pureblood, and while there is absolutely no evidence in his few canon appearances that he harboured blood-supremacist views, the very fact of his background would allow a complacency which might let him overlook some of regulus’ opinions [think, for example, about ron’s attitude towards house elves]. equally, we have no evidence that regulus couldn’t completely disavow his former beliefs.

but, it requires the fact that regulus isn’t just a tiny baby who aspires to join a terror group by mistake to actually be dealt with, and i have never seen a single piece of jegulus which does so.