#like im done writing for the day im halfway through all the pages

[inkedintothepaper]

teacher: start reading chapter 10, we'll have a quiz on it wednesday

class: has only talked about 10:1 and not 10:2 or 10:3 so far and its almost wednesday

me: ?????

[mokkkki]

been following your works since your AJA series and love your choice of allusions, references, metaphors, similes, and motifs - your intertextuality is so layered and insane and established so right off the bat (no pun intended). how do you do it?

hey gorgeous! okay, wow, this is a very big question and i will try to do my very best to answer, though i might miss some things just because of the ginormous nature of this ask.

read. the most important thing a writer can do is read. i love fic as much as the next person, but it's important to delve into works that have been professionally published. when people say this they dont understand that reading is only the first level (and ofc, the most important level) of this step. read fiction, non-fiction, comics, or whatever you want to write one day, and after you're done with that, read things that you would never, ever write. don't stick to a genre. don't even stick to a format! go to podcasts, video games, movies. all of these are based on scripts. it is so so important to be able to recognize those universal elements of good media. there are so many components to this: reading will give you more general knowledge that might work its way into your writing one day, it allows you to meet a vast variety of povs, it develops your critical thinking skills, and ofc, it can even provide a roadmap for your later projects. writing has no rules, but if it had one, id have to say this: a good writer knows good writing, and the fastest way to that is reading a lot.

research. this ties into the fact that reading a lot will give you more general knowledge, and i think that general knowledge is an important factor in being able to write well! you asked specifically about my intertextuality, and most of my intertextuality is historical or religious in nature. i chose to intertwine my characters with historical and religious figures because i like them and the information i have built in! "research" doesn't have to be some crazy note-taking adventure (though it certainly can be if you want it to), it can quite literally be reading a wikipedia article on the toilet. some fascinating aspects of history i personally enjoy reading about is the ancient world, which ties directly into mythology, and eventually flows into abrahamic religions. religious intertextuality is so built-in and inherent, just because of its universally applicable themes (death and rebirth) that apply to every story told. i think its a great place to start if you are trying to add intertextuality to something you've written! i also recommend looking at non-western history, because it tends to be overshadowed, and there is truly so many fascinating things contained within it.

write. like. duh! and im afraid this might sound a little discouraging, but i think that if its your first time writing (and your goal is to be a good writer, rather than a cute hobby on the side), you also have to know that on some level, your first draft/project will suck compared to published novels, just a little bit. but you can't let that discourage you! you just have to keep going. its still something you've created, and even if that thing is ten pages of a bathing grandpa's stream of consciousness, it is valuable and important. i literally mean that with all my heart. i think that writing is a really tough discipline sometimes, just because it's a solitary activity where you type out what is, for all intents and purposes, an extended daydream you are having, and its for that reason that people tend to just run out of steam halfway through a project. you have to be able to motivate and push yourself. write like the wind! write poems and short stories and scripts and fanfic and novellas and epics, experiment with different styles, and above all, know that the content you are creating has value, simply because it came from you.

okay, i think that's everything! thank you so much for trusting me to answer such an important question, and if there is anything that seems unclear to you, please don't hesitate to leave another ask or even send a draft over <3 lots of love!

[royaltrios]

2024 writing retrospective

i wrote some fics this year, as i always do. i want to talk about it for entirely self-absorbed naval-gazing reasons

this year, unlike last's which was a lot of dgs, was 90% genshin impact fanfiction. this is slightly embarrassing to look back on as i dont fuck with genshin (or gacha) anymore. despite that, the characters stayed with me (and maybe still do a bit, in my own way) for the better part of 3 years, so i felt like they were the only thing i could write as nothing else i partook in this year ever really got to the "i can and want to write gay fanfiction for this" territory.

so genshin. or; three characters from genshin. ive always liked genshins world despite stopping playing it for good halfway through this year. i liked the chiscara i wrote for it, i think just by blind passion and confidence that comes from spending time with the characters alone the fics ive done for it are some of the best and most fun ive written. photosynethesia, my nahida+scara retrospective that i finally finished in summer of this year (after starting last april!) is my favorite fic ive ever done. i keep going back to it (despite my ever-present battle with past and present tense) and going, yeah, this was really good. i find whenever i focus and write stuff with no sex to lead up to, i feel good about it. probably because im doing something different than what i always do.

i started this year with a fic about being cold, which i wrote whilst visiting my very good friend up in minnesota. one night we walked from their apartment to a gay bar in minus eleven farenheight wind chill. i wrote a lot of that fic in little cafes and sitting on their sofa bed. i loved their warm apartment (they've since moved), talking about storytelling with them over borscht (i miss borscht so bad, i keep telling myself im going to finally learn how to make it, but i dont totally know where to find beets here, and japanese sour cream sucks)

i didnt write for all of my spring semester. i graduated, finally. i took a ferry an hour to meet my internet friends and live in a house with them for a few days. i felt out of place for about 24 hours and then i didnt anymore. i love being around people who are all unhealthily into the same fictional people. the friend who picked me up and drove me talked about my fanfiction and how much they liked it to my face. like quoted instances from it. that was something completely new to me, and im still shocked that people out there read and think about my stuff at all, despite my daily ao3 email telling me that they do. everyday.

after photosynesthesia, my favorite is probably the aforementioned last year's snow. the good memories of writing it, and i honestly think it turned out pretty well. im a fan of their characterization there. then i had a lot of fun with bloodflow, as i allowed myself to be looser and funnier with some of childe's narration, because, well, hes childe. i liked all the chiscara i wrote this year, as most of it was written in a like frantic obsession driven one and a half month spiral before i moved.

there was a final chiscara fic i wanted to complete to round off my series, but ive marked the ao3 collection as complete for now. i dont want to really think about genshin anymore, and id much rather put it as a whole, behind me. still, i wrote good for it. im glad about that. maybe one day ill write that last fic, but probably not.

recently i read a manga that rewired my brain chemistry, as things are known to do to me from time to time, and so ive been writing for that. it feels really fun to get out of genshin fantasy world and write things i know, like being in undergrad, and modern day tokyo. plus theres age gap and guilt, two of my favorite things to talk about ever!

i started on some dgs fics this year, which id like to go back to eventually when this onslaught of wayama yama manga lets me go (im considering writing fic for two characters in a 30ish page oneshot, how crazy is that? they dont even have character tags on ao3). and regardless i miss writing about barok pining, asoryuu doing nothing and saying nothing and it meaning everything. i miss being able to write in my bastardized victorian fiction style!

though i got close to writing rgg fic this year, i didnt ever get there (i dont like writing before i know the full story, and rgg is, unfortunately (?), almost ten games long. i did, however, discover bible's rgg/judgment fics while on vacation in california in may, and theyre some of the hottest porn ive ever read. really, theyre great. i love how detailed they are. i think about them practically every day. they judgment ones are literally like, tied to the actual game to me.

other than really good yakuza porn (i still think about the keihin-tohoku line every time i pass the keihin-tohoku line in tokyo station-- ive even ridden on it a couple times!), ive also been revisiting the canon series by endles and miko, which still staggers me with its length and attention to detail. goals, honestly. gtsk's insane nahida+scara stuff is some of the best poetry ive read period. i can't believe how good it is. i wish all of genshin was just their fics. mango's fics i still read every single time i get the notification in my email, and even if i know basically nothing about honkai star rail, singularity is one of the fics that gives me a feeling most like 'home' that ive ever read.

ive been more into the idea of getting into a characters viewpoint when im writing them, even though i write 3rd person exclusively. i feel like the words they use and observations they have, even the tone and length of sentences should be filtered through that character's viewpoint before anything else. if a character is simple and quick, then their pov even in third person should reflect that: shorter sentences, slightly simpler turns of phrase. the same goes for the opposite. id like to keep that in mind going forward.

i moved across the world earlier this year. it snows a lot here, more than where i was before. im still writing. ive even started reading again, which i didnt do much of in my final semester. the first month in my hot, empty apartment i finally finished all of svsss, a series that is extraordinarily dear to me for how goofy it is. i think its by far mxtx's best and most earnest. nowadays, im riding out the end of the year by mostly sitting at my kotatsu and writing, or laying under my kotatsu and reading. god i love books, indie publishing, kinky weird fanfiction. i love words. ive been reading words in other languages and i love those, too!

i mentioned i started the year writing about being cold. the fic ive got going now is also about being (slightly less, but still) cold. maybe im just a cold guy. but its nice to write while the snow falls out my balcony window, in a place i only recently began calling home.

here's to more words in 2025, and more ill-advised fanfiction too.

[forsakenmissives]

I know nothing about football but I'd still like to hear about the au :3

see bc i complain and then i don't even know where to start LOL

ok so ig i'll start with the title From the Sidelines and a little description i have, to pique interest heh

Arthur is Camelot FC's star striker and captain. Merlin is the kitman. Life is hardly ever fair.

anyway . i suppose that's. a little misleading. that being said i think this grew into something waaaaay larger than i originally planned @.@ like it was supposed to be a fun little addition to the surprisingly small amt of footballer arthur fics we have but now this fic has double daddy issues (balinor my beloved...), coming out, sports injuries, shitty coaches (aredick die by my sword) and never making the national team. HUH??? i just wanted merthur to fuck on the pitch... (joke) (just in time for fuck him on the field friday)

also there's side stories. like one is when the players get handcuffed tgt for 24hrs but they've got an uneven amt for it and merlin gets roped in

and then there's the valentine's day arwen special that i somehow accidentally made into a statement about arthur's attitude toward his sexuality?? and feelings for merlin??? through his anxiety about his date with gwen????

“All good?” Merlin asks. “Never better,” Arthur replies, then pivots and walks directly into his closet. He stares at his barren shoe rack before he feels hands on his shoulders, and Merlin is turning him around and guiding him back out. “Wrong way,” he hears him say. “Right.” This time, Arthur marches out his room then down the hall to the front door. “I’ll be back.”

i'm allowed to give this info bc i don't know if i'll ever actually post the extras. i dont' even know when i'm gonna finish the main story sjkdfhgjkf

oh yeah another side story takes place in 2007 (that might be the title for it idk) and it's about uther buying camelot fc for arthur's tenth birthday LOL dont question the legaltiy of arthur playing for his father's club. i dont know and i dont care. this is fiction SIMILARLY dont say shit abt arthur being a striker and captain. it's happened before. it's literally fine. dont even worry about it

there's like. ik i rly only talked about the side stories but u have to realize just how much has already gone into this fic and i wouldn't even say i'm halfway done. i don't think i've written out a single match which is also funny bc i've been keeping up with the prem and actually think i can do it now. i just keep dragging my feet abt it lol

i think the hardest part for me is when im gonna have to seriously injure arthur. i didnt want to but i think it's an important way for his and merlin's relationship to progress and also would explain merlin's attitude toward him in january. its less abt injuring him and more abt him having to sit out of games not for like. lineup stats/compatibility reasons

oh my god typing this all out made me realize we haven't met like. half of the guys on the team yet. i was sitting here like "i need to rewatch eps with all the knights bc i dont trust myself to write percy and elyan accurately" but now i just realized i dont even know if mordred is on the like. squad yet or if he's still with the u18s (after a brief check with my info page he is. i'm gonna be sick)

like i said there is a LOT of info on this . sorry this was so long i just needed to ramble a bit and it also made me realize some info i still need to include so yayyy :3 thank you nonny if u have anything u wanna know in specific like fr anything PLEASE ask. i'd love it so much if u asked. u saved my life <3

[yostresswritinggirl]

@butterfly-mochi​ Rewrote this freaking thing thrice because it keeps getting deleted wth tumblr agjvahkfajkvk- I enjoyed writing it a lot tho and since I’m too weak to the characters I ended up writing for all of them (except for Sucrose, im sorry bb huhu, I ran out of brain power). This is my first time writing for so many of them in one go so please excuse me for any mistakes or blandness ywy thank you for letting me write for my baby Ganyu too hhhhh

Universe Reversal 2

Genshin Impact Character Reader and Modern Players with Zhongli, Childe & Ganyu (how they simp for you) (event masterlist / Part 1 / Part 3)

Zhongli the F2P

The most relatable out of the bunch because this man is still broke and can only rely on the primogems he can farm. And he had a LOT. The one thing he doesn’t have a lot on, however, is his luck.

So how did he manage to pull you?: Well after exhausting all his primogem on your banner with nothing but weapons and other characters, he has lost his resolve. But by some weird luck, there was a character bug that was fixed and in his email was the almighty consolation primogem. Enough for ONE pull. And by the Gods he FINALLY got you.

He’d nonchalantly post his screenshot of pulling you using a single acquaint fate in his friend group without any words and everyone else just loses their shit. “You got them in one pull?!” “Yeah” A riot.

This was partnered with the fact that not only is Zhongli an F2P player, but also barely has any five star characters.

He looks calm and apathetic over the news, but behind the screen he’s exhausted and relieved, silently livid.

He has no primogems left to squeeze for a constellation so you’re instead pampered with the best weapon suitable for you (because that’s all he keeps getting).

Zhongles spends most of his time farming for materials to quickly level you up, unlocking all your stories and voiceline, but he fucked up on your build (his artifacts are messy).

He follows communities, forums and videos regarding your character to know all the things he needs to perfect your build. You can barely make a dent against normal mobs, so he knew he was doing something VERY wrong.

Is the type of person to keep refreshing the page for new content, very updated.

Ask him a question about your character and he’s gonna bring you the word vomit that is his research. He’s not gonna stop- probably accidentally developed a copypasta for you.

Also follows your VA in both Tiktok and Twitter to indulge in every bit of content. He also has that screenshot of his pull saved and locked.

On his birthday, a friend of his gifted him a chibi plushie of you and he has treasured it ever since, treating and handling it like its a figurine.

“It is merely pure luck and grace from the gacha gods that I got this character, and I will make sure that they know I am very grateful for this fortune.”

Favorite Voiceline: Birthday Message

Childe The Whaler

This lucky wealthy bastard with no remorse for his money whales for EVERY character. He’s making a collection, which is to get all the characters, especially the five stars. So when your banner finally popped up, he’s gonna square up and trigger a whole ass meteor shower.

How he pulled you: Money. His luck with this games are actually not the best so he always compensates with money, he got you halfway through the first failed pity, almost giving him a heart attack that he might actually break the bank just to get you.

And then he pulls more to raise your constellation lol.

The first thing he does is look over your character info and read through it all; constellation infos, your base stats, artifact compatibility.

At the end when he’s maximized everything, he would then focus on playing around with your character *coughs climbing noises coughs*

He thought you’d just be another part of his collection but playing with your character was very enjoyable and in-line with his playstyle- oops 100 screenshots with the Kamera-

Any and all merchandise that he fancies would be his, and he’s definitely flexing it to the other sweetie nerds who call themselves simps. He’s fighting for the simping title, and he’s currently neck and neck with this fanartist in Pixiv.

Speaking of that fanartist, he definitely commissioned an expensive and detailed portrait of you, full rights and everything. No one else was allowed to use it but him.

Was also the first one with the audacity to call out your VA to create an account on Tiktok to create more content with your voice. He was successful.

His obssession also comes in the form of self-indulgent contents, and had been keeping track of the ship wars happening. During conventions, he cosplays as the character shipped with you the most (or the character he thinks should end up with you).

Silently scrutinizing those who cosplay you, only ever taking pictures with/of the best looking one, sorry haha

Definitely flaunts that you are his waifu/husbando and will fight for best girl/best boy during debates or polls. Has mobilized the community to vote for you once. He’s very persuasive.

“Hm? Why I’m just the best collector in the game, and I am more than happy to let everyone know that I am their number one fan haha, everyone who claims otherwise is definitely wrong!”

Favorite Voiceline: More About (Y/N) I-IV, (Y/N)’s Hobbies...

Ganyu the Employed

Ganyu, our dearest overworker, is one of the players in the older stage who actually has a job but still plays Genshin for their past times. The gorgeous sceneries and the music is her main focus in playing the game, not much of a try-hard but still decent in the combat mechanics.

How she pulled you: You came home within 50 pulls! And you appeared again after another 10 pull! Ganyu was so SHOOKT and so distressed because oh goodness, what does she do? She doesn’t know anything much about you!

Will rewatch your three trailers to try and understand your skills better, ended up saving the soundtracks from them because that was such a nice trailer music! Tnbee gains a new follower!

Ganyu will take a while before she can properly play or build you up because she’s so busy with work, she only ever plays when she feels fully done with her work.

During her break she plays with your character while multi-tasking on eating, earphones plugged in and sight on the phone as she farms materials and artifacts for you.

The moment she gets more help from her player friends tho, holy shit, you just ended up being so OP. She had so many good artifacts and weapons for you because she didn’t know what they were for before.

She loves how you’re so easy to use and can easily solo the enemies and even the boss fights. A huge breather, because now Ganyu can cheese the battles that takes a while, to give her more time to focus on the storyline and lores.

Since Ganyu plays for the story and aesthetic, she’ll find you almost always in her team. Still very proud of her pull, she makes the best screenshots of your fights or in the best angle through exploration.

Treasures you so much she starts talking to her phone- “Ah, no, please don’t fall.” “There’s violetgrass up there, let’s try and get it”

Blushes everytime you produce a sound when climbing, doesn’t change you anyways tho

Hums to your trailer music while working, and if permitted, would have the song on repeat while she buries herself in work. She finds it really refreshing and the time she spends in work miraculously flies by fast when she gets lost in the sound.

At one point, when she was given a day-off or if the convention was on her free time, she attends to look for cosplayers of you and take a picture. No one rejects her because she’s so adorable and cute when asking shyly.

Had brought a decent amount of merchandise, preferably the functional/practical ones like a phone cover, mug or keychain. Also has an earphones clamp with your little chibi self as the holder.

When asked, she would shyly announce that she likes your character the most.

“Their character theme and music really soothes me during work, it feels nice to have them, and I have not once regretted ever pulling for them. They are the best.”

Favorite Voicelines: Good Night/Afternoon..., About Us, Something To Share..., Interesting Things...

so enjoyable...

@moaa @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @dandelion-dreams @snackgod @rxsalinee

[spacedikut]

the very insecure dr reid ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: “Could you write another fic about early Spence where he’s all insecure” combined with another request :) 5730 words

a/n: title taken from s1e5!! i wrote this months ago aka before i decided to try to make my fics gender neutral and i tried to make the appropriate changes but im also a dumbass so! yeah! 

masterlist

Spencer is a man of science, if you didn’t already know.

This means he doesn’t spend his time fretting over what isn’t there, what doesn’t have facts and evidence to back it up. Of course, he dabbles in reading conspiracy theories and enjoys learning about various religions and things of that sort, but these are to expand his already infinite knowledge, not because he particularly believes in them.

The first time he believed there was some kind of God was when you kissed him.

It was after the case where both Elle and Spencer were trapped on a train with a paranoid schizophrenic – he still remembers how you reacted when he agreed to being sent in, how you tried to keep it light-hearted but pulled him aside to solemnly tell him you didn’t think you’d be able to live without him (if you do something rash and stupid, Spencer, I swear to God-). You threatened to nipple cripple him if he did die, and it was weirdly motivating.

After he was checked over, and teased Elle about saving her life, you came crashing into him with an audible oof and a whisper of, “God you smell so good I’m so glad you’re okay don’t ever do that again.” It was probably the adrenaline, the near-death experience high, but instead of gently pushing you away like he’d do with anyone else, he discovers your waist has a wonderful dip that his arms fit perfectly into as he tugs you close.

He’s hugged people before, obviously, but it’s always different with you.

You must think so, too, because when you pull away just enough that you’re still in his arms but can clearly see his face, you take a minuscule intake of breath that Spencer wouldn’t notice if he wasn’t, you know, Spencer.

A strand of Spencer’s hair falls from where it was tucked, falling into his line of sight. Without hesitation you’re pushing it back, fingertips brushing against Spencer’s cheek as you fold the hair back behind his ear. Your eyes meet when there’s no obstruction, electricity crackling in Spencer’s ears when he realises there’s nothing between you, nothing stopping you, and there’s something about the lack of space between you and how he holds you that just makes you ask-

“Would it be weird if I kissed you right now?”

Immediately, Spencer thinks yes. Not because he doesn’t want you to (he couldn’t think of anything better to do, to be honest), or because of where you are (although, knowing the whole team is not far away does make him feel a little funny), it’s because he’s him. Gangly, awkward, with very sweaty hands that feel at home on your body, and you don’t want to kiss that. You can’t want to.

Yet, he shakes his head, and finds himself copying you when you lean in and close your eyes.

It’s short, sweet, and somewhat weird. He thinks he blacks out, loses himself in your lips despite it happening so quickly.

When you pull back, Spencer’s eyes remain closed for a good few seconds before he’s brought back to Earth. And he doesn’t know what to say - pretty people don’t just… kiss him. They certainly don’t ask if they can kiss him, then follow through, and… stare at him like that.

“Has anyone seen Reid? Y/L/N?”

Whatever was supposed to happen after, whether it was good or bad, you’ll never know. Hotch’s footsteps are thundering towards you and, despite your daze, you step away from Spencer just as he spots you.

The second time he believed there was a God, he asked you on a date. And you said yes.

Neither of you mention the kiss. In your defence, he supposes, it happened merely an hour ago – everyone’s rushing to get back to Quantico so no one’s had time to make any kind of small talk, let alone have the talk after a kiss.

Elle gives Spencer a look of confusion when she slides past him, moving into the jet as he hovers in the entryway. He’s obviously waiting for someone, passing out tight lipped smiles to the team when they all squeeze past. Spencer isn’t a big guy, but it’s bizarre for him to be standing there like that, swaying like the palm tree he is – he’s usually setting up for yet another game of chess with Gideon at this moment.

Then you shuffle on, faltering when you catch him waiting for you but smile nonetheless. He straightens, hands remaining in his pockets when his mouth opens to speak. You interrupt him (before he can make a fool of himself, thank God).

“Wanna sit together?” You ask, eyes never leaving his. He nods and follows you like the lost puppy he is.

The second you invite him to sit next to you instead of opposite he wants to pull you tight into his side, but that seems like too much. He’s not Derek, for Heaven’s sake, and you’re not Garcia – all you’ve done is kiss once and really, when he thinks about it, you were probably on an adrenaline high too, so it might’ve been a heat of the moment thing. It happens, Spencer’s read about it, and although it would break his heart that it meant nothing, it’s likely. Oh, it’s so likely.

Spencer might be the first one on the team to cry on the BAU jet.

Halfway home, the team is lost in their own pass-times to notice when you bookmark your page and place your book on the table.

“Spence,” You whisper, testing if he’s awake.

He is. He hasn’t been able to catch a wink of sleep, no matter how hard he tries. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry if what I did earlier- you know-“ You gesture vaguely in the air, completely oblivious to the fact Spencer is very familiar with what happened earlier because he can’t stop replaying it, “-If that made you uncomfortable. Or if I forced you, or-“

“Would it be weird if I asked you on a date when we land?”

The grin you send him shoots straight to his heart, eyes crinkling with laughter at his echo of the words you used earlier. If you notice you don’t mention it, but his hands can’t stop fidgeting under the table, slick with sweat.

“It’d only be weird if you don’t kiss me after.” You say.

His brows furrow, a small incredulous laugh leaving him. “What? Why?”

“We’ve already had our first kiss, so it’s out of the way.”

“Are you saying… You want to kiss me again?”

You thought that was obvious from when you kissed him earlier, but you’re happy to remind him. “Yes. I would like that very much.”

“Okay,” He says, bashfully, with a lick of his lips. “I can- I can arrange that.”

This time, when you turn back to your book, your head finds his shoulder and Spencer thinks his it has turned to gold, blessed by being touched by you. Would it be too much if, the second you get back to base, he writes about this moment in great detail to his mother?

+++

All of that leads to now, where The Date is in three days.

He plans to take you to his favourite book café, a place you’ve always wanted to go but never had the chance to, and he was so, so excited. Any time he gets to spend with you is cherished and means more to him than it does to you, because to him it’s an excuse for you to give him more reasons to fall in love with you. And he does - fall in love - every single day.

Was is the important word here. He’s not excited anymore.

It’s terrifying how quick the tides can change.

Just this morning, he was glancing with child-like excitement at the outfit he’s already chosen for the date. You brought him some coffee, whispering an endearing, “Three days!” as you did, and, according to Derek, Spencer’s love eyes (what the hell does that mean) were so big even Derek fell in love with you for a second.

Now, Spencer’s not territorial, but that comment stuck with him. Maybe that’s why he’s here now.

He has to cancel the date.

It pains him – God, does it pain him – but he has to. He can’t go on that date with you. He can’t… put you through that. Make you spend time with him and have to let him down gently, slowly, like you’re talking down a temper tantrum. He can’t then pretend everything’s okay in front of the team. He won’t be able to pretend, because he’s liked you for months.

He won’t force you to go on that date with him. You deserve better than that, and better than him.

That’s what it comes down to: you deserve better than him.

It started that morning with Derek, as previously mentioned. Then the team was whisked away on a case, and the detectives were all over you. JJ, too, but they were too intimidated by Elle and Morgan, who just laughed at their attempts to impress you. It was borderline inappropriate, but you were too concerned with the victims and finding a serial killer to pay some officers and detectives you’ll never see again any attention.

Spencer noticed, though. And he couldn’t concentrate.

The detectives are dressed too well – by that, he means the suits and the Rolex watches are way above their paygrade – and they keep emphasising how good looking you and JJ are and how lucky the BAU is to have such dolls working on the team. What is this, the 40s? Who calls anyone doll anymore? And, yes, the team is very lucky to have you and JJ, but because you’re both great minds and wildly intelligent people that, yes, are also very gorgeous, but your looks aren’t all you have to offer, thank you very much.

There’s a detective approaching you, again, as you stand by the water cooler.

Spencer frantically looks around, trying to find a member of the team. “Morgan!” He weakly calls, because Spencer won’t scare him off. Maybe Morgan can chase them away like they’re stray cats, with his big muscles and scary eyebrows. Or Elle, who earlier merely lifted an eyebrow and the officers scattered like cockroaches.

All he catches of the conversation between you and the model/detective at the cooler is, “I appreciate it, but no thank you,” and that’s all he needs to hear.

He should’ve known someone would eventually make a move. You’ve said no, clearly, and Spencer doesn’t understand why. I mean, yes, he knows why – you have a prior engagement – but the detective… As much as he’s kind of a dick, he complements you better than Spencer does. Physically.

And there starts the spiral.

There must be something in the water, because every officer and detective and everyone in between is in peak physical condition with dashing looks to boot. They’re all straight out of a magazine, as if the popular kids from Spencer’s high school graduated and followed him here to remind him he is incredibly unworthy of you.

Spencer is lanky, unlike the broad men and curvaceous women here, and slicks his hair to the side rather than up like the others. He wears sweater vests, not blazers, and he’s so skinny that his trousers always look like hand-me-downs – nothing is fitted, like so many outfits are here.

They’re all everything Spencer is not. And Spencer is realising, quite quickly, that they’re the better ones – and that’s what you deserve. Better. The best.

It gets worse when they deliver the profile.

He finds his spot next to you, gives you a tight lipped smile, then looks at the outfits of his team compared to his own. Both Hotch and Morgan wear dark suits, well-proportioned and sophisticated in a way that Spencer is sure isn’t even in his calibre. Elle wears a deep green t-shirt, tucked into her tight black pants, and looks wonderfully intimidating with her double gun holster wrapped around her shoulders.

And you. You.

You wear a white shirt tucked into nicely tailored trousers, hair effortlessly styled with a pen tucked behind your ear. You all look like FBI agents. Intimidating. Prepared. Put-together.

Spencer… looks like he’s still in high school. He threatens no one, intimidates no one, and definitely does not make anyone feel inferior with his masculinity. He’s not an alpha male, is what he’s trying to say, and for each person he encounters in this wretched police department he feels himself shrinking.

So when they give the profile, he tries to say as little as possible. Tries to attract as little attention as possible, so when Hotch says his usual, “Thank you.” He can slip away unnoticed and hide from the superior beings.

It works, given everyone is too busy trying to save lives. Except you notice, and Spencer has to pretend he’s okay when you find him at the evidence board and tell him you’re excited for the date. He wants to believe you, truly does, but no matter how hard he digs into his brain to find a part of him that can fathom you see him as a better option than literally anyone else, it doesn’t exist.

You don’t seem to notice. He tells himself he’s glad, but there’s no denying the disappointment.

+++

Hotch calls it a night when the clock nears midnight. He says the team should get as much rest as possible and come in with fresh eyes tomorrow – despite this, the team knows most if not all of them will get little to no sleep, given that they’ll all be going over everything they’ve got so far in their hotel rooms.

You slink up to Spencer, a pep in your step even though you’re running on pure caffeine and nothing else. It’s then Spencer realises he has to do it now, because if he does it in the police department then he’ll be called unprofessional, but if he waits any longer than that he’ll be cutting too close and that’s a bad look.

“Y/N,” He says, coming to a stop before the elevators, allowing the rest of the team to head up. “I need to say something.”

You nod with a smile, covering a cute yawn when he takes a couple seconds to gather his thoughts.

You’re not sure what he’s gonna say, but you assume it’ll be to do with the date. Maybe a change of time, or a change of venue – he did mention the library café can get super busy on weekends – or, worst case scenario, the date will have to be postponed for whatever reason. And none are particularly bad, because you’re excited and just want to be with Spencer – it doesn’t matter if it’s not when he originally planned or where he originally planned.

But Spencer has always unwittingly been full of surprises.

“We can’t go on that date.”

Instantly you ask, “Why not?”

“Well-“ He seems caught off guard, like he wasn’t expecting you to question the sudden change of heart, “It’s complicated-“

“I’ve got time.”

“We should go to sleep-“

“Is it your mother?”

“No. No, it’s not.” Of course you look empathetic when you consider his mother might need him – a stab to the start. Add in the flicker of concern in your eyes – two stabs to the heart. “It’s not her. It’s- it’s nothing. Just, can we cancel?”

“And reschedule?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

The disappointment is clear on your face and makes Spencer feel so guilty, but not guilty enough to take it back. You’re not disappointed that you’re missing out on dating him, you’re frustrated that you’ve been building up to having plans on the weekend and they’ve suddenly been cancelled without reason. By Spencer, of all people. In a couple months’ time you’ll thank him, when you’re dating some bodybuilder who can grow a mean beard. You’ll thank him for not making you go on that date with him and forcing you to tell him you’re just not my type, Spence, and making everything awkward.

He can’t look at you. Maybe that’s why he misses the genuine sadness, the sudden glassiness of your eyes that humiliates you enough to make you angry. His words have ignited a fire in your chest that burns through your body like you’re made of gasoline, and you wish you could turn your thoughts off so you don’t start questioning how long he’s been wanting to reject you, if he even wanted to date you in the first place, how embarrassing it is to have been so openly eager when, apparently, he was very much not.

“I’m sorry.” He says, like it’ll do anything. He still can’t look at you and he feels like a coward.

“Yeah.” You sniffle.

He decides to take the stairs. You head for the bar, just for one drink.

+++

The following day, when an officer tries to talk to you, you blatantly ignore him. You tell him that unless it’s work-related, you’re really not interested, and word spreads quick that your pleasantries have died out and you’re not in the mood to tolerate creepy compliments.

There’s a permanent frown on your face that haunts Spencer the entire day. He knows exactly what’s going on – it’s his fault, after all – and he finds himself simultaneously avoiding you whilst witnessing your downcast mood.

Morgan starts investigating not long after you barely react to his terrible joke. He makes them for you, because you either choke on laughter or throw your pen at him, but this time it was like you weren’t even in the room. When Morgan poked you and asked if you heard him, your lacklustre reply was, “Hm? Yeah, good one.”

Morgan perches on the desk Spencer’s using. “You got any idea what’s going on with Y/N?”

“They’re mad at me.”

“You’re the reason they’re like this?”

Spencer doesn’t physically react, just says, as casually as possible, “Unless another person asked them on a date then cancelled without reason, then yes. It’s my fault.”

There’s no point in lying. Especially to Derek. Spencer doesn’t know how you’ll go about explaining your sudden poor mood, if you’ll curse his very existence or lie about it, but Spencer’s never been a good liar and the sooner everyone knows it’s his fault and he sucks, the better.

Morgan leans forward, attempting to make eye contact with the doctor who very much does not want to. “There’s a story there.”

“Obviously.”

“…You wanna go ahead and explain it?”

“Not really.”

“Alright,” Derek shrugs, “You stir in your sadness and continue being a sourpuss, I’ll go check up on Y/N and find out what really happened.”

Derek’s barely moved off the table when Spencer stops him, voice small like a child, “Wait, Morgan, I-“

You walk past then, too focused on a suspect list faxed in by Garcia to pay attention to anyone else. Spencer’s eyes follow you the whole time, and the look in Spencer’s twinkling eyes make Morgan slump back onto the table in realisation.

“Why’d you cancel, Reid?”

“I had to.”

“You had other plans?”

Spencer chews his bottom lip. “No. But I… I couldn’t take them on a date.”

Derek waits for him to elaborate.

“Have you seen the kind of guys hitting on them?” Spencer asks, scooting his chair closer so no one can eavesdrop. “They’re all… They’re- they’re like you, Morgan. All cool and put-together and actually look their age, for one, and I’m not that. I could never be that – and that’s what Y/N wants-“

“Have you asked them that?”

“No. But I’m a profiler, in case you forgot, and I think it makes sense that these big-shouldered, super muscly guys are all over-“

“But you haven’t actually asked them what they want.”

“No.” Spencer sighs, leaning back in his chair.

“That’s your first, and most vital, mistake, my man.”

Spencer purses his lips, catching you watching him over Derek’s shoulder. You immediately look away, shooting off to the evidence room as an escape, and Spencer’s cheeks burn with guilt and embarrassment.

He can’t believe he thought he had a chance with you.

“I feel like this should be obvious, Genius, but Y/N said yes to a date with you, then turned down every offer that came from someone that wasn’t you-“

“That’s because they already made plans with me and they’d feel terrible if they had to cancel for another, better offer. I made it easier for them.”

Derek gives him such an incredulous look Spencer wonders if he should burn his PhDs. “Are you serious?”

The crestfallen expression on Spencer’s face is enough of an answer.

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“C’mon,” Derek tugs Spencer up from his chair. “I need to show your dumb ass something.”

All that’s missing is classic spy music when Derek and Spencer sneak into the conference room the BAU is using. Only Hotch is in there, scribbling something down, barely glancing up when the two agents creep in like they’re on a mission.

Spencer doesn’t say anything until Derek reaches for your bag. “Whoa- Morgan-“

“Relax.”

Spencer just stares, brows halfway down his face, and watches silently.

“That’s they’re journal, Morgan, you can’t just read it-“

“It’s not, pretty boy.”

Hotch watches the interaction, mildly confused, then nods to himself when he realises what Morgan’s holding.

Morgan splays the journal on the table in front of them, flipping through pages with precision like it’s his notebook and not yours. When he lands on his desired page, it’s slid towards Spencer.

He reads it.

The Doctor Spencer Reid cheat sheet. (Because I do not have an eidetic memory and feel bad whenever I forget something he tells me)

He’s too stumped by the words cheat sheet to look further, so Derek does it for him, flipping to the next page where very basic information about Spencer sits – full name, date of birth, hometown. As he looks to the page next to it, he realises it’s full of his favourite things – favourite coffee, favourite candy (which has multiple answers, by the way), even favourite pair of socks. Like a switch has been flipped, Spencer comes to life, frantically switching between pages that are overflowing with facts and tidbits about him, from his favourite monologue from his favourite film to his favourite shelf in his apartment. All things he’s told you either in passing or when he’s confided in you at random times, you’ve taken note. You’ve listened, and for some reason you’ve written it all down so you’d never forget.

“What…What is this?”

“It’s everything there is to know about you, Reid.” Derek watches as Spencer slips through the rest of the book, filled with random to-do lists and phone numbers of various people, looking for the same information about the rest of the team. “There’s only one for you, you know. And if you ask me it’s a little creepy, but it’s saved our asses when it’s come to buying gifts for you a good few times.” He slaps a hand on his friend’s shoulder, smirking at how Spencer’s awe-filled eyes never leave the pages before him. “They care about you a lot, Reid. More than you think. So…”

“I need to talk to them.”

“Yes, idiot, you do.”

+++

That night, Elle and Derek invite you to join them for some drinks at the bar, promising they won’t let it escalate to arm wrestling and childish bets like they always do. Even though they make a compelling argument, add on that you’re stressed and upset and really, really want to forget emotions exist more than anything else, you’re half tempted to accept and lose yourself in some cocktails.

Then you spot Spencer talking in hushed tones with Gideon and everything comes flooding back. So you tell Elle to have a drink for you, please don’t make a ruckus when she gets back to your shared room, and bid them adieu.

In your room, you distract yourself by renting one of your favourite movies. It’s overpriced, and a part of you wants to look over the case files again, but being sad and burnt out won’t lead to any good outcomes.

It’s a futile attempt at switching your brain off so you don’t have to think about how excited you were for the date. You’ve had twenty-four hours to get over it, but every time you see him you’re thrown back into the bitterness you feel – bitter that you fooled yourself into thinking it’d work out, bitter that your hopes were so high, bitter that you let your feelings for Spencer become such a big part of your life.

You’re lying on your scratchy hotel bed, thinking about Spencer and how he’s going to be complaining to Morgan about said scratchy beds, when there’s a knock at your door.

Naturally, you assume its Elle. She reminds you so much of your older sister who used to slide you some money so you’d stay up late into the night and quietly let her back into the house after she’s sneaked off to go to a party – except Elle is probably swaying outside your hotel room after losing her keycard rather than swaying on your doorstep.

So when you open the door, teasing quip ready, you legitimately choke when you’re faced with a fidgety Spencer Reid.

He tries to ignore how the way your face drops when you realise it’s him feels like a punch to the gut.

“Hey-“

“No.”

“Oh.”

“You-what-“ He’s never seen you so flustered. “Are you lost?”

Just in case, Spencer leans back to check the number beside your door is in fact 208. It is, and he turns back to you, “Please don’t slam the door in my face.”

It slips out. “I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise your pretty face.”

You’re humiliated that he has this effect on you, the ability to obliterate all your filters and common sense just by existing. But the look on his face alleviates the want to jump out of the window – his mouth opens, twitching into the smallest, most bashful smile before it falls and morphs back into disbelief. You just… You just called his face pretty, a word that makes some feel emasculated but no, never with you. You compliment people and mean it, which makes Spencer’s guilt worsen and the urge to tell you he loves you with his entire heart more intense.

You speak at the same time.

“Why are you-“

“I wanted to-“

You roll your lips together, holding back a smile, and nod for him to go on. He does the same, so you shake your head with a, “I was just asking why you’re here.”

He holds up a finger, signalling one moment, and opens his satchel to start rummaging in it. “I know this is a complete invasion of privacy, and theft, really, but Morgan showed me it and I just- Why do you have this?”

You gasp.

In his hand is the journal you’ve been working on since a month into your employment at the BAU. The gifted notebook was initially used to jot down any bits of advice your superiors gave you (on your first day, Elle gave you a list she lovingly titled “If I wasn’t an FBI agent I’d sock these people in the mouths”) but, before you knew it, it had an entirely different purpose.

It started when you witnessed Derek stumble when asked Spencer’s favourite colour, to which he said no one remembers stuff like that! Aptly followed by Spencer reeling off everyone’s preferred colours (even delving into second favourites and favoured colour schemes) and you realised then that… Spencer’s whole life, he’s remembered so much about the people around him and very rarely have they returned the favour. So, in an attempt to build friendship and because you had the fattest crush on him already, you started the Spencer Reid cheat sheet.

You didn’t think he’d ever see it, even if it’s always used by the team on various occasions. It was the team’s little secret, bar Spencer, that assisted in nearly every decision made on Spencer’s behalf – what to order from restaurants, drinks, birthday and holiday gifts, how to comfort him when he’s stressed or upset.

The responses vary. Derek thinks it’s weird, as did Elle at first, but JJ and Garcia insist its sweet and, really, no matter what they think they’ve all come running to you when time has called for it.

“How… Did you steal it?”

“Yes,” He tells you, guiltily, “I had to read it – it’s incredibly accurate, by the way.”

You don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.

“So… Why?”

“I don’t know,” You say, a bold-faced lie and Spencer can tell, but he lets you continue, “You remember everything about everyone else, so I wanted to… do the same for you, I guess.”

“I have an eidetic memory.”

You airily laugh – does he think you forgot that? “I know that. Doesn’t it get tiring recalling all this information about your friends and not having it reciprocated?”

He clicks his tongue at that, eyes falling back to the notebook in his hands that he fiddles with while he thinks. It is tiring, he supposes, but that’s how it’s always been. He remembers everything, the people around him just… don’t. He realised at a young age that he’ll often have to remind himself that friendship isn’t measured by what they remember, but by other ways – like this. You, with your unassuming journal that is full of things Spencer assumed no one would ever care to remember.

You, with your tensed jaw and fluttering eyes because you’re embarrassed.

You, who’s done quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for him, and it’s been happening for years right under his nose.

You, who he cancelled a date with because he was so sure you were dating him out of pity, out of obligation after he asked and you felt forced to say yes, but now he realises you care about him just as much as he cares for you.

Touched feels like an understatement.

“Y/N…”

“If you find it weird, I’ll burn it the second we get home. Pretend it never happened, we can… discuss a restraining order if we must-“

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Oh.”

He smiles at you, hands tight on the book in his hands, smiles so big that his eyes crinkle and his teeth show and he looks gorgeous. It tugs directly on your heart strings and just for a second you forget that he cancelled your date, forget that you’ve been pining for years, and bask in the warmth that radiates from him.

“This is… Insane, really.” He laughs, “But also so… so cool. I don’t deserve this, at all, and to think we could’ve gone on a date but I chickened out-“

“What?”

He shrugs with faux-nonchalance. “The-um- the reason I took back the date was because I think you deserve so much better than me. In a, you deserve someone like all the police officers down at the PD, kind of way. I don’t want a pity date-“

You scoff, then with an indignant, “Come in here,” You grab Spencer’s satchel and tug him into your hotel room, closing the door with a forceful push as he turns to face you.

With your hands on your hips, you stare him down with furrowed brows and a look that screams really? “Is that really what you think, Spence? It was a pity date?”

“Well, yeah,” He tells you. The conviction in his voice is so strong that, if you weren’t this riled up, you’d probably tear up at how sure he sounds.

You give another scoff. “Not only am I offended you think I’d do that to anyone, but I’m also mad that you don’t see how I look at you! Spencer, I’ve been into you since I started working here-“ His mouth falls open. You’re exasperated. “-and the notes were a way to get to know you, yes, but they were also because I couldn’t stop watching you and had to play it off like I was doing it for a reason. You’re my favourite, Spencer.”

His heart aches a little, full of such a tenderness he’s never quite felt before. He feels loved, and so, so touched that someone would put so much effort into getting to know him and… years. Literal years you’ve liked him, and he’s been blind to it.

“I like you a lot.” You’re breathless after your little speech, “And if you still don’t want that date, that’s okay. But I like you, Spence, I really like you.”

Your gaze never wavers. Spencer wants to scoop you up and place kisses all over. For the first time in a while, he feels worthy. Like what you’re saying isn’t being said for the sake of it, because you’re his friend and you have to support him, but because it’s what you genuinely think and feel and Spencer might be in love.

He swallows deeply before speaking.

“I really like you, too, Y/N. And I’m-I’m sorry that I cancelled the date and- I should’ve talked to you, maybe, before doing it, but… We’re here now, right?”

“You want to have a date right now?”

Thumbing through the book, he says, “Actually, there’s some blanks in here I’d like to fill, if you’re not busy…”

You’re very clearly on board with the suggestion, basically skipping to your bed, plopping down and patting the space beside you with a grin. “I’m not busy at all, Doctor Reid. Tell me everything I don’t already know.”

So he does, thigh pressed against yours and blush on his cheeks when you let your head fall onto his shoulder.

The night is spent giggling over the most random information you’ve gathered, correcting only one mistake (his favourite socks change every week, not your fault), and adding onto the already plentiful fact file.

And the date that weekend happens, ending in a sweet kiss on your doorstep that leaves you both with shy smiles and thundering hearts.

It’s the first date of many, followed by the creation of a new journal full of all there is to know about your and Spencer’s relationship.

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @bitchyreids @roses-and-grasses @ta-ka-shi-ma @chiffonchronicles @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @jasongideonapologist @gublertoon @averyhotchner

[alicee1]

Unsure

Technoblade x GN! Reader

Warnings: bit of angst, self doubt (from Techno’s side), I think thats it? Please tell me if I missed something.

Word count: 1K

Requested: no

Synopsis: after a rough day in the nether doubts crawl into Techno’s mind, as his doubts, aided by the voices, force their way into his mind, you help him shut them up. Comfort fluff with a bit of angst.

A/n: I swear I also write for other characters! So far Techno has just been the easiest to write for and the quickest. I’m working on a bunch of other ideas but i can’t decide which to do first to im working on all of them at the same time. Also college has been really busy and i really wanted to upload something now that that stress period is finished so it may be a bit short with 1K but please enjoy!

Rules, Masterlist

As you sat down beside him, leaning into his form in front of the comfortable heat of the fire as the blizzard raged on outside the walls of your cabin, you could feel his form stiffen beside you.

He held a book in his hand and you couldn't help but notice the subtle clench of his hand as the corner of the page slightly crumpled under the pressure. The action made you pull away from his form, Techno struggling to keep the growl that arose in his chest at loss of your warmth against him contained.

"Tech? Are you alright?" Techno turned to you as he closed the book in his lap, his finger in between the pages to bookmark it. You assumed it was lingering adrenaline in his veins, after having spent most of the day gathering resources in the nether it was understandable if he was still on edge from the hostile enviorment. He had returned halfway through the evening, blood staining his clothes and armour, although it wasn't his own.

His hand twitched in his lap as he wanted to reach out to you, to hold you and pull you close.  Your eyes found his, worry evident within.

"I'm alright." he spoke, although you knew there was more to it. After all the time you had spent with the male, you could read him like a book.

Your hand reached out, cupping his cheek and his jaw in the cup of your hand, he couldn't help but melt into the feeling. 

To Techno, you made up his entire universe, he would hand the entire SMP to you if you so desired, conquering the land until you'd be satisfied or he'd die trying.

 Although you had never once asked him for anything, you had always been so perfectly understanding and caring to him, he was sure he didn't deserve it. The voices plaguing his mind echoed over each other as they pointed out each flaw there was.

His hands were covered in the blood of many, humans and creatures alike, people hunted for him and were out to destroy anything he cared for. You moved in with him so he could stay by your side, so he could make sure you wouldn't get hurt because of him.

Techno refused to believe that you could love him, after all of the things he had done. At times the demons in his mind crawled from the depths he banished them to and combined with the voices in his head it would overwhelm him, unable to block them out as he usually would. 

How could someone as perfect as you love him, a monster to everyone that inhabited the lands.

Your eyes softened as you looked at him, having no trouble to see the struggle that continued in his mind. After a rough or eventful day you knew of the struggles that formed in his head on occasion, noticing the subtle distance he tried to put between the two of you.

Gently your hands grabbed the book from his lap and placed it on the small table beside the couch, knowing Techno was too distracted to read. A frown etched onto his features as his zoned out gaze was focussed on your eyes, lost within the swirls of colour as the thoughts and voices distracted his mind.

"Can I hold you, my Love?" your voice was so bittersweet to him, he could listen to it for days on end without it ever losing its soft melody to him. Oh how hopelessly he had fallen for you, responding in a nod as he seemed to return from the depths of his mind.

You shuffled onto his lap, wrapping your arms around him and burying your hand in his soft pink locks, hands gently messaging the back of his scalp. It was a feeling you knew put him at ease, as you shuffled slightly so you could pull the male's head against your chest, reassuring him that you'd never leave him.

Inhaling your scent calmed him as your presence surrounded him, allowing him to close his eyes in relaxation. His hands shook lightly as he wrapped them around your waist, hesitating for a second before allowing his hands to trace of your clothes.

A satisfied hum rumbled from his chest as he relaxed in your arms, focussing on your touch to drown the intrusive voices out. You buried your nose in his hair as you inhaled his scent, as much as this helped Techno, holding him close like this made you relax into his touch as well.

Techno could feel the soft beating of your heart from his position on your chest, it calmed him, knowing you were still by his side safe and sound. His mind started to quiet down as he squeezed you closer to him softly. 

In that moment even the blizzard that raged outside of the small cabin and made the wood creak couldn't bother the two of you.

Your voice barely came out as more than a whisper, although with the minimal distance between the two of you if was more than enough, "There is nothing that could take me away from you Techno." The reassuring words made him hum softly, gentle vibrations coming from his chest at the action.

He pulled away slightly, pulling you face level on his lap as he unwrapped one of his arms from your waist, cupping your cheek softly without any shake or hesitation,

"I'll love you to the end of time, my dearest"

[aries-writes-shit]

The book of you and i

Pairing:  c!Twin! sapnap x Reader

Request/Prompt: The alec benjamin song "The book of you and i"

A/N: I kinda made this angsty ig

Well, it all began in the back of her car

I was just 16, but I fell so hard

Well, the years went by, and she held my heart

But her love ran dry, and we fell apart

you were a bright shining light on the smp. The people loved you and yet, that would be your downfall, You could tell your fairytale wouldn´t have a happy ending

I felt her growing distant

I knew her love was shifting

And all that I could say was-

Ever since you were a small child, you kept a small book you would write in about things you had done that were signifigant to you, and your brother Sapnap, would jokingly pick fun at you for it.

When your brother saw you on the other side of the battlefeild during the War for independance, his heart broke for his twin sister, was fighting against him

Don't tell me that it's over, the book of you and I

Now you've scribbled out my name, and you've erased my favorite lines

There were so many chapters that we never got to write

Like "Cereal for Dinner" and "Staying Up All Night"

You lost your life that day. Your twin brothers best friend, george, had been the one to take the future you had planned away from you. Your twin was devistated, but he knew he couldnt do a thing about it. He, along with your two fathers, Would mourn over your tombstone, Which they had placed in the badlands, that was until they saw a grey figure sitting on your tombstone, in the same outfit you wore on the day you died.

I remember where we started, I remember how you looked

But now I'm missing bits and pieces from the pages that you took

You didn't give a reason, I'll forever wonder why

We never got to finish the book of you and I

You sat on your tombstone, your tailcoat swaying in the slight breeze. Bad and Skeppy exchanged a look, before they cautiously walked up to your seethrough form.

¨Y/N?¨ Bad asked, his voice slightly cracking up as you turned your head to look at the two ¨Dad!¨ you exclaimed slightly, your voice sounding almost hollow. Your skin was littered in wounds, while the blow that ended your life, stained through the white blouse you wore under your jacket. ¨I came to see you, Im helped start a country¨ you exclaimed, waving your hands around as you twirled. Neither two men had the guts to tell you that the country had gained independance already and was going on without you. ¨I know that things are going well there¨ You placed your hand on the side of your scarred face ¨ i came to ask if you knew where sapnap is, i think he took my book again¨ Wthout any further word from neither you, nor your fathers, you floated off into the hills, leavng the two men to wonder if it was just a hallucination

Well, I bought a pen, and I turned the page

Then I wrote about how I wish you'd stayed

I said all the things that I never got to say

Maybe when it's done, I will feel okay

Your brother held your book in his hands as he flipped through the pages, reading through your writing, from around age nine to twenty. he felt tears roll down his cheeks as he got to your final entry about halfway through your book, There was a picture with you, and the other l´manburgians. he let out a small sniffle as he picked up his pen, writing one final entry for you, This one was a letter to you about how he wished he could have protected you and how if he could change anything, it would be sacrificing his life for your own. 

¨ You did everything sappy¨ Your hollow voice whispered, causing your twin to look over to where your ghost form stood. ¨ please keep writing in my book for me Sappy, i know it will be in good hands¨ A ghost of a smile formed on your face as you began to fade back into the void, causing your brother to cry out for you, just wanting to see you for a second longer.

That she had grown so distant

And that her love had shifted

I wish she felt the same

Don't tell me that it's over, the book of you and I

Just like he had been asked, he continued your book for you. He would write about things you would have loved to see, things that if you were still there, would love to do. He even wrote about Wilbur and tommy´s exile. He could swear he could see you out of the corner of his eye when something big was happening, it was almost as if you were there with him in those moments. 

Now you've scribbled out my name, and you've erased my favorite lines

There were so many chapters that we never got to write

Like "Cereal for Dinner" and "Staying Up All Night"

When the festival came along, he left the seat beside him empty, because he knew you were there, even if not visible. and when he heard your panicked whispers in the wind, he got up and left, because he knew when you spoke up for once, it was important.

it was the next day he learned of the destruction of l´manburg, as well as the death of wilbur and shlatt. Like always, he wrote down what he knew and then closed the book with a sigh. the book only had a few pages left to fill. but he wondered what he would do when he ran out of space, MAybe he would get a new book, and continue your legacy. 

I remember where we started, I remember how you looked

But now I'm missing bits and pieces from the pages that you took

You never gave a reason, I'll forever wonder why

We never got to finish the book of you and I

it was about a year since the festival and sapnap now had a small bookshelf filled with new books for him to write in when he would run out of room. He had been contemplating something for a while, yet he didnt know if it would be best for you. HE knew dream had a revive book and he wanted to ask him to revive you, even if it was only for a day.

Don't tell me, tell me that you're leaving

My belly hurts, and my heart is hardly beating right

I hate to beg, but I'll try one last time

Don't tell me that it's over, the book of you and I

¨Dream, please revive her¨ he said through broken sobs ¨ i would do anything¨ those words caused dream to smirk, ¨Either you help me escape, or destroy the books¨ he said, his back against the crying obsidian. Sapnap paused, he knew helping dream escape was a bad idea that would probably get him killed< and dream knew that those books were important to you and sapnap. ¨fine, i´ll destroy the books¨

Now you've scribbled out my name, and you've erased my favorite lines

There were so many chapters that we never got to write

Like "Cereal for Dinner" and "Staying Up All Night"

when sapnap visted a week later, he brought the books with him to prove he would destroy them. Dream watched with exitement as sap threw them into the lava. Like promised, dream used the book and revived you. You had the same look as you did that day, you were in your war uniform still and you were confused, just a second ago, Wilbur and shlatt were telling you stories about the great nation you had helped form. ¨Sappy¨ you whispered, looking up at him from the floor you were now crouched on. Without a word, you were engulfed in a hug, your brother shouted for Sam, asking for you two to be let out. You were very confused, yet you were happy to be able to hug your twin once more. Sam led you two back out while your brother explained everything to you.

I remember where we started, I remember how you looked

But now I'm missing bits and pieces from the pages that you took

You never gave a reason, I'll forever wonder why

We never got to finish the book of you and I

you sat in your new garden, Your hair up i a loose braid as you hummed a tune while weeding. You wondered how your friends were doing in the afterlife, did they miss you? ¨hey (y/n)¨ your brother asked, poking his head out of the house you two built ¨Wanna go visit Dad?¨

[jadedxrealityw]

-Stress- Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

   ♡~🐍~♡

  Request: Hello. Can you do a draco x reader oneshot where she always overworks herself when she's stressed and one day she faints (I really fainted bc of stress no joke, so I would like to read something I can relate to but I don't have a draco in my life so yk lol) and he takes care of her and just a lot of fluff pls. Thankyou. I love reading your work :)

   Kody- Honestly can relate to this one a bit. I also recommend that if your reading this on a laptop to install InteractiveFics, it will replace any place with Y/n to whatever name you want. No, i’m not sponsored im just weird

   Warning: Mentions of stress and fainting. 

   House: Ravenclaw. Why not? I don’t do a lot of Ravenclaw.

   ♡~🐍~♡

   you had always been the person to put an unhealthy amount of work on yourself. Whether it was helping someone or school work in general you would pile more than you could handle, never really knowing when to stop. You thought you were invincible until last year when you passed out from stress.

   your parents had warned you on taking on to much work, but it honestly went in one ear and out the other. You promised them you would try and pace yourself, but you knew deep down it wouldn’t happen. You just couldn’t change, without the needed push of course. 

   exams were coming up in a week and you had been studying all day and night for five days straight, with little to no sleep.You were a complete mess and running on fumes at this point. As you sat down at the table, Luna was eating a bowl of pudding in front of you.

   “Y/n, are you not hungry?” the blond girl asked in her usual soft spoken way while licking her spoon clean. You only glance at her for a second before going back to reading your textbook. “No i ate earlier” you say, knowing full well you didn’t even eat breakfast.

   Luna tilts her head to the side and studies you for a moment “you know, you don’t have to study so hard. Your already passing all your classes so you’ll most likely do well in the exams” she nods, giving you a sweet smile. You sigh deeply and run a hand through your H/L H/C hair. 

“I’m just barely passing and i’ve only read half the potions textbook and- i just need to finish this Luna” You say quickly and begin to read again. Luna smiles half-heartedly and nods slowly, going back to her pudding.

   ♡~🐍~♡

   sitting on your desk, you continued to write down various notes on transfiguration. You had just finished page five of your notes and looked at the textbook, you weren’t even halfway done with the book. As you go to dip your quill in more ink, a knock interrupts you.

  you groan and slam the quill down on your desk and push back the chair. Standing up from the seat with frustration as you open the door. Only to be met with the warm smile of your Slytherin boyfriend. “Hey love” he says. You let out a soft sigh “Draco”

   he nods slowly and pushes past you into your room “I’m kind of busy at the moment-” “with studying yeah. Luna told me. When is the last time you know- didn’t?” he questions. You look down at the ground for the moment “I’ve been taking breaks” you say, not looking at him.

   the Slytherin crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at you. He gazes at your desk to see your stack of notes. His mouth gapes as he walks over, picking up the pile in his hands “Love, your practically writing a whole new textbook with these!” he exclaims and places them back down. 

   “i think Luna was write. You clearly are taking on to much then you can handle” Draco shakes his head. Your head snaps to look at him and you scoff “I’m fine. I just have to finish Transfiguration and the rest of potions. Then start on charms- and” you had just realized how much you had to do.

   Draco raises a brow, his stern expression softening “Love?” you opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. All the days of no sleep seem to hit you like a truck and your vision became spotty. Then you were instantly enveloped in darkness. The pale boy watched as you began to fall to the ground.

   he quickly rushes over and wraps his arms around you “Y/n!?” he shouts. He leans your head back and looks at your pale sweaty face. What had you done to yourself?

   ♡~🐍~♡

   your eyes flutter open and you feel something warm and wet on your forehead. Reaching up you feel a hand towel. What? You go to sit up and look around the room. Your room was clean and your textbooks were put away neatly along with your notes.

   “Oh merlin, i’ve died and gone to heaven” you gasp, throwing the wet towel. “Now how did you come up with that conclusion darling?” someone laughs from the other side of your dorm. You see Draco holding a plate of food and water. 

   Your face twisted in one of fear “Oh no! You died to!” you shout. Draco shakes his head and places the plate of food on the foot of your bed “We are not dead, but you were getting there” his face turns into a serious expression. Oh no. Now you wished you were actually dead.

   “Y/n, you fainted from all the stress of overworking yourself. This is serious. What would have happened if i wasn’t here and you hit your head on something sharp or hard and i lost you Y/n?” He asked, grabbing your hand with the both of his. You frown in shame.

   he notices your expression and uses one of his hands to lift your chin “I’m not coming down on you to be mean. It’s only because i love you with everything i had. Your the only one who understands me and i couldn’t imagine my life without you” his face softens as he leans forward.

   he presses a short, chaste kiss to your lips. “Now i brought you some food and water. You are going to eat every last bit and you need to drink a full glass every hour” He picks up the plate and hands it to you. You smile and nod, grabbing a fork and taking a bite.

   he stood up and walked over to the desk, grabbing a piece of parchment “Now, i’ve wrote a schedule for you which has a detailed plan of when you will study, for how long, and includes many breaks so we don’t have this incident again” he walks over and hands it to you. 

   it had cut down your usual chaotic, unhealthy schedule by almost a half. Your face twists slightly “But i-” “No, Y/n you have to understand that overworking yourself is going to hurt you. J- Just please give it try. For me?” he says, a pleading look in his grey eyes.

   you sigh deeply and nod. Willing to give it a try for your boyfriend “Okay, i’ll try” he gives you a questioning look still “Promise?” “Promise” you repeat and take another bite of food. He smiles warmly and hands you the cup of water. You place your fork down and grab it from his hands.

   taking a sip, you see Draco adoring your features from the corner of your eye. You drink about half the cup and hand it back to him. He nods and places it on your nightstand. “Good” he says simply. You look up at him “Thank you so much Draco, for being here and helping me”

   he gives you a confused look and tilts his head “Where else would i possibly be?”

♡~🐍~♡

   Kody- I enjoyed this. I have been feeling stressed over doing requests, because i feel they aren’t good enough, but you guys seem to enjoy them. Anyways, peace.

[monitorchakas]

You know I gotta ask abt ya boi for the character ask thing. Any version of him Chakas or Spark.

Send Me a Character

You might have made a mistake I can't shut up about my boi, but im still glad you asked!!!!

Im going to indicate a tl:dr version in blue for each section

And I will tell you my:

First impression

So surprisingly even before Spark's backstory/redemption ark, I liked him. I like robots, loved Hal 9000, obsessed with Portal 1 and 2. As much as I love his new story that gives him more depth and emotions I actually loved the simple minded protocol following boi we first met.

Child me actually had a dream shortly after playing the library that I found a broken little spark he was split in those two circle pieces. I swear this happened which is weird because any normal person just has flood nightmares.

I legit would wear a Spark necklace to class 90% of people thought it was Wheatley. I definitely stalked his halopedia page for new content

Impression now

So lets start from Primordium. I already loved Chakas from Cryptum (I kept joking around with the line "Chakas when the walls fell" because was obsessed with tng at the time). I remember reading the preview first chapters while on vacation at my grandma's house because I couldn't wait for Jan 3 (which is 3 days before my bday btw). I remember being pissed that my boy was a monitor right at the beginning...

Halfway through the book I started suspecting Spark and Chakas had to be connected, specifically because Spark sounded a bit too much like Chakas when talking about the librarian in the halo cea terminals. I think its crazy well done how those two pieces of media are connected, and that halo 3 the ark cutscene "compartmentalization" connection to primordium is just very cool! Especially since bungie definitely never intended this, but because Spark's memories were compartmentalized for flood reasons, it works!

My obsession only has gotten worse with the more recent lore. I think Spark looks really cool! Especially in the newest book cover. I love who he's grown to become and I love the awesome new friends hes made despite of losing his past friends (him losing Riser(and vice versa)... must have hurt, those too were so close)

Favorite moment

Oh theres more than a few of these but Ill try to limit myself

This part made me laugh:

My favorite Chakas moments:

Riser Bornstellar and him together adventuring on Cryptum before all the horrors began.

Also his time with Vinnevra and Gamelpar, again before the horrors started....

My favorite Guilty Spark moments:

Sesa Refummees edification

Chief and Spark working together in Halo 3 especially in the Ark

My favorite Spark moments:

when they were on Myers Moon and Spark finally stopped brooding and sat on a rock trying to find the perfect moment to shoot the fish out of the water.

Spark training Little Bit 💕

Point of Lights ending scene 😭❤

Theres definitely more favorite parts...

Idea for a story

I think Spark and Motoko Kusanagi (ghost in the shell) should sit down and have a drink together, itd benefit Spark to meet a fellow ghost in the shell

Motoko: "oh you're a ghost too? Interesting body choice"

Spark: "not really my choice its the best I could find!!"

Motoko: "oh wow you lived as a human for quite a long time I was cyberized when I was 5"...

(Im not good at writing fan fiction, but yeah something like that)

Unpopular opinion

Spark/Chakas should be in Infinite

I know they removed him from the story but like why does known asshole Forthencho get a terminal and my boy Chakas doesn't? P l e a s e

Favorite relationship

Chakas and Vinnevra were very cute together shout out to both of them for blushing and denying when my boy Riser called them out

Speaking of which Chakas, Bornstellar, and Riser really were the three amigos

Guilty Spark's only relationship was his ring and thats ok!!

Im glad Spark became such good friends with the ace of spades crew. Specially with Rion.. When Rion and him held hands to confort each other

Favorite headcanon

Spark totally has a halo ring floatie for Myer's Moon 🤭

Anyway... thanks for the ask @hotdoghowitzer 💕💕💕💕💕💕

[mintmatcha]

9 months, 28 days

Chapter 3 of 10 Months

CW: discussions of death

A/N: this is the end of the beginning! im not sure exactly how long this stories going to be but yolo

The cafe is almost empty, just like always. That’s why they loved this place so much as kids. No one they knew was ever here, sitting in the mothball scented booths- only the occasional elderly couple who didn’t give a fuck that the place hadn’t updated it’s decor since 1995. Clouds rolled in overnight, painting the town a somber grey. Mattsun feels like it should match his mood, but it doesn’t. He’s not sad, he just… is. There’s this weird, turbulent void in his chest where his despair should lie.

Hanamaki’s in the corner when he arrives, nestled into the booth with a mug. He watches the rain trickle down the window, tracing the paths of the drops with his finger tips. It’s very ‘white girl protagonist’ Mattsun decides. Like he’s the star of a Hallmark movie. The void in his chest pulses and he swears, just for a flash, it was warm.

“Hanamaki.” Mattsun slides in across from him.

“Well, lookie here at the big boy in his big boy suit.” Hanamaki taps his nails against the glass, not even looking at his friend. “Did your mom help you pick that out?”

“This is technically a business meeting, so I had to wear something nice.” he explains. “Or else my boss is going to think I’m just screwing around.”

That’s what it feels like. It feels like work. He’s just putting all of this into his little box, so he can file it away in the storage files of his mind. He’ll process it later, when the moment’s right.

Or never.

Makki tents his fingers together, like he’s some sort of super villain. He’s always had this casual, uncaring air about him, but it seems to have developed further into a chaotic mess. “Ah, so you’ve decided to plan my fun-eral.”

The black haired man sighs. “Only if you stop calling it that.”

The waitress wanders up, expecting orders in her typical, unfriendly way. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume it was the same woman from years ago, still equally sick of her job.

Neither of the men look at the menu. Mattsun orders a cheeseburger omelette and a coffee with six sugars, the same horrible thing he’s been getting since high school. ‘The American Experience’, they called it. Makki orders plain toast, notably not the same thing he’s been getting since high school.

“You should eat more,” Mattsun says, “You’re too thin.”

“Who are you? My mom?” he takes a long swip from his mug,

“If I was, I wouldn’t be-” Mattsun stops himself, much to Makki’s delight.

“Oh, please make a dead mom joke. Please.” Makki’s on the edge of his seat, leaning halfway across the table, “My mom would have loved you making a joke about her.”

Mattsun slinks down so far that his knees pump against the booth across from him. “That’s… yeah, you’re right. She would have loved it.”

Mattsun wants to say he misses her, but it doesn't seem fair. To miss Hanamaki Hana would be to miss Hanamaki Takahiro, and he certainly wasn’t allowed to miss Hiro.

Makki looks exactly like his father. He's there in the too thin nose, the gap between his canines and molars, and the clubbed way their fingernails grew.

but his mom's in his idiosyncrasies. She's in the laughter, the winks, the tiny things that make Takahiro himself. Truly a mama's boy, Makki taps his cup against his front teeth the same way she did. It's their thinking face.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Mattsun regains control. His notebook and reading materials jut out against his stomach from their spot in his coat.

“Are you really sick?” It surprises both of them. Maybe it was the thought sitting at the top of his head, maybe he meant to say it. All of this just feels too sudden, too random, Mattsun just can’t quiet his doubts.

This is why the time apart was good; Makki made him do stupid things, made his brain stop working.

“I- uh. Yeah.” Makki's face doesn't change, but his shoulders fall. The tension in his body deflates as he goes back to looking out the window. "You're such a dick."

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You really think I’d lie about all of this?” he laughs, but it's flat, "To do what? To crawl back into your life?"

"That's not what-"

"Newsflash, asshole- I've been doing great without you.” the mug slams against the table, “I've been really, truly, wonderfully happy since-"

The other man picks up one of the pieces of toast and examines it, before carefully ripping the crust off. It’s a delicate procedure, carefully peeling off the edge on one, long piece. Makki opens his mouth to continue, then closes it with a low, thoughtful hum as he rolls the crust into a little ball.

"Makki." Mattsun holds up a finger, pausing the conversation for a moment as the waitress approaches. They sit in silence, mumbling only a quiet thank you as she

drops off the plates. She doesn't seem to notice the tension in the air or if she does, she doesn't care. She pours the coffee carefully, counts out the sugar packets like she's rationing them. As soon as she turns, he sighs and curls his hand into a tight fist, holding it in the air for a second before letting it fall. "Continue."

“This was a dumb idea. Forget I even asked you to do this.” he tosses the bread ball into his mouth and chews, “I’m just gonna go.” Standing suddenly, he grabs his coat from the booth beside him.

This would be the third time he let Makki leave and, according to the time left, the last. Life is fickle, an unpredictable lace pattern made by the people in your life coming and going. Mattsun was used to dealing with the final goodbyes and usually found comfort in it. No more chapters to write, all secrets buried and forgotten- truly, nothing left but what you can see in rose colored glasses.

And yet some part of him- the stupid part, the crazy part, the self loathing part- panics at the thought of seeing this end.

"I know you're better without me." Mattsun sighs, "But I want to help you, if you'll still let me."

“Stop.” Mattsun’s heart pounds so hard, dancing across his skin, that he can barely recognize he’s touching Makki, holding his wrist down against the table. “Sit. Eat."

Makki just raises a brow.

Reluctantly, he complies, but not before he tugs his hand out of his friend's grasp, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a sneer. A boundary has been set- no touching.

"I'll let you." he turns his attention back to the mangled food on his plate, "But only because I want to finish my toast."

"We good?" They are not, but Mattsun prays for a lie.

"For now. But watch yourself." It's a win, albeit a half hearted one. Mattsun pulls a tiny notebook from an inner pocket of his coat and flips through the pages until he reaches the last page; it's the farthest out thing he's planning, of course. It’s marked ‘The Hanamaki Service.’

They let the silence sit between them as they pick at what’s in front of them. The terrain of this relationship is uneven, constantly changing. It’s like hiking a mountain in the winter, Mattsun decides, one wrong move, one noise too loud, and the whole thing will come crashing down,

Why does he even care?

Makki’s happy without him, he’s fine without Makki.

He shouldn’t care, and yet he stays.

The black haired man stabs a hunk of egg and watches the half melted cheese try to stretch. “So, to put it all simply: what our home does for you is the basics: Legal procurement, transportation, preparation, and disposition- you don't have to worry about any of it. We also offer a location for interment and service, depending on the type of service you require, of course."

"Location?"

Mattsun takes a bite. "For the service and for you to, um, rest."

"You mean rot."

Maybe eating wasn’t the right choice for this conversation. The texture of egg now feels wrong in his mouth.

"Don't say it like that." The preservatives slow that down, so the rot won't happen for a long time, he brain reminds him. It doesn't help.

"I already have those places picked out though." Mattsun waits for a joke to follow, but he’s surprised when his friend says, "Bury me near my mom and hold the service here."

"Here?" Mattsun asks, “There’s nicer places.”

"Save a dying business with a dead guy. It's irony."

"Okay, well. That's-" he sighs and scribbles into his notebook. This wasn’t going to be a traditional job, was it? "At least the catering is done then."

"Perfect." Makki pushes away his empty plate, "I'm a natural at this. You should hire me.”

"Long term positions only, sorry." It slips out before Mattsun can censor himself, but Makki just snorts into his tea.

It’s frustrating that they click together so well, especially because nothing’s been resolved between them. One minute everything threatens to break, the next they can sit here and joke with each other. The issues sit there, waiting in the corner of the room, cocked and ready to fire. If they just didn’t look, maybe it wouldn’t hurt when it finally attacked.

If they didn’t look, maybe they can pretend nothing happened.

Mattsun reminds himself that he doesn’t care. There's still that blank space inside him.

“Next step would be flowers.”

It’s not. They should discuss embalming versus cremation, but the words stick to his throat. He’s asked so many times before, stared forward as loved ones debated what to do without a care in the world. This time shouldn’t be different.

“I’ll think about it. Can’t say I know too many flowers off the top of my head.” Makki digs his phone from his front pocket and scrolls, looking through everything before tapping out a quick question. There's a twitch of his brow, barely furrow, but it's gone in a flash. Before Mattsun can even ask, Makki's gathered his coat in his hands. “Gotta go.”

“What? We just started-” The whiplash is what hurts. Just as Mattsun feels like he's found his footing, it's gone again, slipping out from under him. This must be some level of hell

"Something came up." he shrugs, "Don't worry about it."

"I won't."

"You're such an asshole." he says, "You're supposed to at least pretend to care."

Yeah, he knows. That's how life works. But he can't just pretend; it's a gateway to actually feeling.

"I'll try." Mattsun offers, "It was nice to see you."

Makki rolls his left shoulder over and over again, like he's trying to work out a kink. "Was it? Was it really?"

"Kind of."

"Thanks," there's a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "We'll do this again."

And like that, with no formal goodbye, he just starts to leave. Mattsun wants to protest, but he’s grateful. He hadn’t realized how tense he had been, how hard he'd been digging his fingers into his thigh. The void in his stomach somehow feels smaller and larger all at once. He kind of wishes it would just swallow him up and this would all be done with.

It's so easy not to care.

“Oh, and Mattsun?” Makki pauses by the door and picks out a familiar black umbrella that was leaning against the doorframe. He twirls in in his fingers like a baton before pressing the button and letting it unfold. It's bad luck to open an umbrella inside. “Thanks for breakfast.”

Mattsun just looks down at the table. His food is barely touched but he doesn't plan to eat anymore. With his heart in his throat for no good reason, he feels nauseous. Despite himself, he wonders if Makki still smells like cedar aftershave and the discount brand laundry detergent.

“That fucker didn’t pay.”

[whosaskingwrites]

Forever Is A Long Time (Akaashi x Reader)

A/N: I'm alive. And finally starting my soulmate one-shots. 😔 sorry if you've been waiting for these i wanted to get the angst ones done first. Also im almost at 100 followers which means ill be having a follower special soon! So be ready for that. Anyway have a good day!

Date: Tuesday, November 24th, 2020

Details: 6.3 pages 2,308 words

Theme: Red String- There is a red string tied around your ring finger that connects you to your soulmate. It becomes visible when you are close to each other. You can also tug on the string so your soulmate feels it. When far you only see it as a red ring around your finger.

Warnings: cursing. Barely implied sexual stuff its just one sentence and its nothing explicit.

Soulmate masterlist

For as long as I could remember I had a pale red ring around my finger. I never asked questions about it since I knew what it was. My soulmate was out there somewhere but I was never curious about them.

I would have been but my mom stressed to me that I needed to be successful. Not worrying about some silly soulmate so I did. Every thought about my soulmate was pushed to the back of my mind and I slowly forgot about them. My friend Hinata always tried to get me to find them but I denied.

I ended up becoming the manager for the MSBY Black Jackals. I considered it the perfect job I wasn't as successful as my mom wanted me to be but I was happy with what I was doing.

I was always busy so my soulmate had never crossed my mind. My days were spent corraling Bokuto and Hinata while keeping Atsumu away from Sakusa's stuff. The rest of the team members like Meian and Barnes didn't need watching but they also never helped me.

Today was no different of course. Well unless you counted the fact that it was the Black Jackals versus the Schweiden Adlers. Hinata was bouncing around in excitement and Bokuto wasn't much better. Currently I was helping Sakusa fix his knee pads deciding to let Hinata be excited this once.

"Y/N!" I jumped throwing a hand over my heart as I stood up. I looked at Bokuto who was staring at me eyes wide. "Don't do that Bo!" I yelled smacking him on the back of the head. "Owww sorry it's just your hand!" I looked down at my hand and looked back up raising an eyebrow.

"What?" I asked in confusion Bokuto sighed reaching forward and raising my other hand. There around my ring finger was a thin red string. "Y/n's soulmate is here!?" Hinata yelled rushing over to see the string. "Oh cool I guess," I took my hand from Bokuto's grasp bringing it back down with a shrug.

"You're not excited about it?" Atsumu asked "Not really? Mom raised me to not worry about my soulmate so," I trailed off before I felt a strong tug on my hand. Looking down I noticed Hinata pulling on the string before someone pulled back.

I smacked his hand as he went to tug it again "quit doing that," I said moving to pick up my clipboard. "But thats how you find them! The stronger the tug the closer they are!" He shouted while I shook my head. "Hinata I'm not worried about my soulmate. The game is in 10 minutes so let's get you guys to the court," I stated looking at them.

"I don't get it how the hell are you Omi and Samu not interested in your soulmates!" Atsumu shouted as we left the changing room. "I'm just not big on the soulmate thing," I said with another shrug "I don’t really care if I find them or not," Sakusa added on with his own shrug.

"You guys are so boring! Y/n you're the first outta of the five of us to be close to your soulmate and you don't wanna meet them!?" Bokuto shouted in exasperation. "I dont see what the big idea is. I'm not interested in meeting my soulmate right now. Now go warm-up," I gently pushed the boys towards the court while I went to the bench. 

I shook my head as Hinata mouthed "Find them," at me. I sighed as I watched them feeling a gentle tug against my finger my eyes drifted to the red string before I cautiously tugged back. It brought an odd sense of comfort to feel every tug on the thread and it almost seemed like a habit for them to nervously tug the string.

My eyes shifted back to the court as the game started. My hand made notes that occasionally got messed up when a tug shook my hand. I quietly hummed when I realized they were trying to find me.

Halfway through the game the tugs had become annoying. They started hindering my writing the closer they got and the boys had most definitely noticed my annoyed state. They had come over for water and towel during a short timeout while I was finishing a note for Bokuto when my hand was suddenly tugged sharply to the side scratching a mark across the sentence id just written.

"Son of a bitch!" I quietly cursed though it was loud enough that the four boys heard me. "You alright Y/n?" Atsumu asked and I glared at him. The boys froze at the icy gaze.

"No I'm not okay. Everytime I try writing these damn notes my soulmate tugs on the fucking string and ruins it. I'm fed up with it and quite frankly I really don't want to meet them at this point," I stated angrily. "Come on Y/n its just notes-" my glare shifted to Hinata as he spoke causing him to shiver.

"Just notes? It is my job to write notes. If the notes are unreadable I have failed at my job and you know what these notes are?" I held up my clip board before slamming it back down on the bench. "Unreadable!"   I yelled before taking a breath. "Now finish your game boys and if you lose. Ill kill you," I sent them a threatening smile before they ran off to the court in fear.

___________________________________________

"I just don't get it man! How is she not excited!" I paused as I entered the shop. Hearing Bokuto yell as soon as I walked in. "I mean I get it. If my soulmate kept me from making Onigiri correctly I'd be mad," Osamu supplied waving to me as I walked in.

"Whats going on?" I asked looking at the guys Kuroo rubbed his forehead while Bokuto looked at me. "Please don't get him started on his damn manager again," Kuroo mumbled while Bokuto spoke up. "Hey Akaashi what's your idea of a soulmate?" I blinked at the sudden question "Someone who will be with you forever I guess," I said after I thought about it. 

"Our manager doesn't care about meeting her soulmate!" Atsumu yelled out throwing his hands up while Kuroo groaned. I came over and sat down across from Bokuto. "You guys are making a huge deal out of it," Sakusa said rolling his eyes.

"Well she should care! I can't believe she went home instead of celebrating just to fix her notes," Hinata stated with a huff. "What happened?" I asked my eyes flickering to Osamu when he placed a tray of onigiri down in front of me.

"Y/n's soulmate was at today's game! They even kept tugging on the string but she said she didn't care!" I paused as I processed Bokuto's words. I had been at the game when my string appeared. I tugged on it whenever I got nervous during the game.

I had eventually followed it during break only to discover it led me to the doors on court and suddenly it all made sense. "Oh," I said when I realized. "What?" Hinata questioned and I shook my head. "Nothing just...my string also showed up during the game," I stated looking back at Hinata. "Oh," he said but then his face lit up "oh!" He stood up suddenly and Bokuto joined him.

"Oh my god! You think-?" Bokuto trailed off excitedly looking at me. "You guys saying he's her soulmate?" Atsumu also stood up in excitement. While Kuroo sent me a look that screamed 'What have you done?' "Guys there was a lot of people at the game," Osamu said rolling his eyes.

"Yeah doesn't mean Y/n is his soulmate," Sakusa also said with an agitated sigh. Bokuto snapped his head over to me with a wide excited smile. "Did you follow the string?" He asked bouncing in his spot. "A little bit during break yes," I said as I automatically started playing with my fingers.

"And?" Hinata drawled out leaning towards me. "...It lead me to the doors leading on court," there was a brief moment of silence before the three boys started screaming. "Someone get her over here right now!" Atsumu shouted while Hinata pulled out his phone.

It went dead silent as he called the boys seemed to freeze in place staring at the phone that was on speaker. "What the hell do you want?" All four boys flinched at the angry tone and Kuroo shivered at it. "We think we found him Y/n!" Hinata excitedly yelled.

"Found who?" She asked in confusion causing Atsumu to sigh in irritation. "Your soulmate Y/n!" He yelled in exasperation. "Fascinating. I don't care," She had responded back in annoyance. "Y/n come on! Just come to Onigiri Miya please!" Bokuto begged his eyes got big as he stared at the phone.

"No. And don't throw puppy eyes at the phone I know you're doing it," Bokuto sighed when it didn't work frowning as he tried to figure out what to do. "Please Y/n! Five minutes! I'll do anything you want!" Hinata joined in with a frown. 

"I already said no. Now leave me alone or I block you," She stated before hanging up the phone. The three boys turned their gazes to me after staring blankly at the phone. I looked back at them slowly "...what?" I asked nervously before Atsumu smirked at me. 'Oh boy' I thought worriedly.

___________________________________________

'How the hell did I get here?' I thought as I stood infront of an apartment door. I assumed it was Y/n's since Bokuto had shoved me here and rang the bell. I was still getting my bearings when the door swung open revealing a girl with h/c hair and shiny e/c eyes.

She was wearing a black jackals hoodie and a pair of leggings. I noticed the red string trailed from her hand to mine confirming she was my soulmate. "Can I help you?" She asked with a sigh.

Her voice snapped me out of my reprieve and I gave her a shaky smile. "Hi um I think your my soulmate?" What I said came off as more of a question as she blinked at me. "Who are you?" She didn't check the string before she asked. Establishing that she wasn't lying on the phone she really didn't care. "Im Akaashi Keiji," I said holding out my hand.

She hummed as she took it shaking my hand as her eyes finally traced the string. "So. You're Bokuto's elusive friend and the one who made me ruin my notes," I flinched as she let go of my hand immediately going to play with my fingers.

"Sorry about that. I tugged on it whenever the game made me nervous," she was watching my hands before she suddenly reached out and took one. I froze at the unexpected move as she held my hand. "Sorry you were distracting me. Continue?" She asked as she laced her fingers with mine.

"I..um," I had lost my train of thought looking at the pale pink flush that had appeared on her cheeks. "A-anyway why are you against soulmates?" She shook her head at my question. "Im not it's just...my mom raised me to put finding my soulmate on the backburner and focus on my career so I did,"

She continued after a brief pause "She focused on her soulmate and ended up working as a waitress as her career. She wanted me to be successful and that meant no room for a soulmate," She shrugged like it was the most casual thing in the world to not care about a soulmate.

"So...Where does that leave me?" I questioned quietly while she hummed. "Depends...are you gonna ruin my notes again?" She asked with a small smile. I smiled back when I realized what she was implying. "Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on the day," She laughed as I spoke her eyes drifted to the side sparkling in mischief as she spotted something.

She leaned forward to whisper in my ear "Seems the three musketeers stayed to keep watch," She mumbled tilting her head as she pulled back. I turned my head slightly seeing Bokuto, Atsumu, and Hinata hiding around the corner. They were excitedly holding on to eachother and I shook my head looking back at her.

"Unfortunately," I supplied while she giggled. "Im sure you already know but my name is L/n Y/n," She said and I nodded confirming I did already know. Her eyes still held mischief as she leaned forward again. "I think we should give them something to watch," she whispered lowly.

My face flushed at the implication of what she said. "Y/n-," She cut me off with a kiss. They were soft and fit against mine perfectly much like her hand did. My eyes slipped closed as I kissed her back. I vaguely heard the screaming of the three guys.

She slid something into my free hand before pulling away. She smirked at me letting go of my other hand "Have fun with that," she threw a vague hand gesture to the boys before going inside and closing the door.

Looking down at my hand she had left a small white business card in my hand. Her number was stretched across the front and I pocketed it before walking away. As I got closer to the three guys I was suddenly tugged backwards and fell.

I looked at my hand to the string following it to see Y/n holding the string with a smile on her face. She winked at me before disappearing while I quietly chuckled.

'This was gonna be an adventure'

————————————————————————

TAGLIST: @wonhomarshmallow

[jemej3m]

objection

because im now a law/crim student, this is all im gonna fuckin write about 

anyway here’s andrew as neil’s defence attorney (totally inspired by @aymmidumps‘ amazing andrew here)

gruesome crime descriptions but neil’s not a butcher in this one

*

“Wesninki’s applying for an appeal,” was all Andrew heard from the minute he’d stepped into the office. It was all anyone could - and would - talk about. 

Reasonably so, Andrew presumed. Nathaniel Wesninski had been locked up since his nineteenth birthday, when he slit his father’s throat. Andrew reckons he should’ve never been charged with murder, especially when considering his father was the Butcher of Baltimore, but Andrew had been just an undergraduate student at the time. There was nothing he could’ve done. 

Now, though. 

Now Andrew was just over thirty and steadily climbing the ranks. He hadn’t intended on becoming a defense attorney, but it just so happened that he was damn good at keep kids out of jail. The juvenile detention system was just a cog in the wheel of dysfunction, after all: he knew that first hand. 

Survivors of violent assault who had killed their attackers were also common clients of Andrew’s. Those with mental illnesses and drug addictions found their way into his stack of case files, too. He’d always thought he’d be on the right side of the law, throwing shitty people in jail and fixing the system one day at a time. 

This was alright too, he supposed. 

“Hey, Minyard,” Boyd leaned against the door-frame of Andrew’s office. He had his own private space, unlike the others, who often shared offices with two or three of their colleagues. Andrew was just lucky. Or favoured. 

“Let me guess,” Andrew said, without looking up from his file on a thirteen-year-old being charged with battery and theft. “Dan’s pissy because I didn’t turn up to dinner on Friday, there’s free coffee in the break room, Wesninski’s applying for appeal and Wymack wants me?” 

“Uh,” Matt squinted. “Yes? How the hell did you guess?” 

Andrew gave Matt a bored look. “You talk too loud. The walls are thin, you know.” 

The man huffed, conflicted between being impressed and disgruntled at Andrew’s usual bitchiness. He simply threw his hands up and vanished from Andrew’s doorway, most likely to groan to his wife about how incorrigible Andrew seemed to be. 

He threw his file onto his desk, locked his office door behind him and swung past the break room to dump three packets of sugar into a free latte. By the time he arrived at Wymack’s door, the man was already stood up, most definitely unimpressed by Andrew’s tardiness. And his lack of tie. 

He did wear a tie to court. Most of the time. 

“Nice of you to finally show up,” the old man grunted, tugging on the cuffs of his casual blazer. Andrew fucking hated blazers. They were always too tight around his shoulders. “I suppose you already know what this is all about?” 

“Seeing as Allison, Robin and Renee have all tried to talk my ear off about it, yes. I’m aware Wesninski is trying for appeal.” 

Wymack wasn’t impressed. “What you don’t know is that he’s come to us to represent him.” 

Andrew paused. Now that was interesting. Nathaniel Wesninski was halfway between New York and Baltimore. Why the fuck would he recruit from seedy South Carolina? There was no viable reason, unless - 

“Kevin,” he deduced. “How do they know each other?”

“Moriyamas and Wesninskis ran in the same circles, before it all got shut down.” Wymack arched a brow. “Wesninski figures that Kevin is the only person he can trust.” 

“Kevin won’t do it,” Andrew shook his head. “He doesn’t touch anything Moriyama related with a ten-foot pole.”

“Wesninski knows that. Which is why he’s asked for you: Kevin passed him on.” 

Andrew closed his eyes, very, very briefly, as he cocked his head at his boss. “You want me to get the most notorious gangster’s son out of jail.” 

“At least have him commuted to manslaughter,” Wymack suggested. 

At least, Andrew thought. He remembered looking over the Wesninski case in his third year. Nathaniel Wesninski had laughed, incredulous, as the FBI lead him away in handcuffs, nearly losing his fingers in an effort to cling onto the knife that he’d used to end Nathan Wesninski’s life. 

That wasn’t manslaughter. That was homicide of the first degree, plastered over the front page of every newspaper the next day. 

"You’ll owe me,” Andrew warned. 

“I’ll cover your bar tab at the Foxhole for the rest of the year,” Wymack conceded. 

Andrew huffed. “It’s February.” 

Wymack arched an eyebrow. 

Andrew had a feeling he’d regret this. He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his slacks and rocked back on his heels, looking to the ceiling. “Fine.”

“It was an order, not a request,” Wymack grunted. “Get out of my office and get a visitation permit.” 

Andrew, already fed up with a case he’d only just been assigned, turned on his heel and dutifully marched off. 

*

The drive was nine and a half hours. Andrew could’ve made it a single-day round trip on a plane, but he refused to fly somewhere he could drive instead. He booked a half-hour slot with Wesninski on Saturday afternoon: if he found the man interesting enough, he’d bribe a guard to let him back in Sunday morning. Then he’d drive home, midday Sunday. 

At least Wymack was letting him stay in a nice hotel in Philadelphia. It almost made the journey worth it, but he wouldn’t jump the gun. It would only be a worthwhile trip if he figured that Wesninski wasn’t hopeless. The man was just 29. It was nearly 10 years since he’d been locked up. Andrew’s chances were - practically slim to none. 

Half-way through the drive Nicky called. 

“Heard you’re going to see Wesninski,” he said, the phone somewhat masking Nicky’s obvious curiosity.

Andrew sighed. “Aaron needs to shut his mouth.” 

“Aaron comes to family dinners,” Nicky objected. “He has every right to tell me whatever he wants. Speaking of - if I promise you a whole loaf of garlic bread, will you come to the next one?” 

Andrew huffed. “I’m busy.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you hate socialising, you’ll tolerate dealing with Aaron at work but nowhere else, blah blah. What about me? Your dear, old cousin?” 

“Fine,” Andrew grunted. “Now, leave me alone.” 

“Yes!” Nicky crowed, but whatever response he had after that was cut off. Andrew dropped his phone back in the passenger seat, turning the radio back up and relaxing into his chair. 

It was a further five hours after that disturbance till his arrival at SCI Phoenix, Philadelphia. Andrew would always despise how depressing prison complexes looked. Chain link fences and brick boxes, splayed out like a progression of architectural failures. The parking lot was enormous and empty. Andrew parked far enough away that his nice car wasn’t in direct sight from the prison’s visiting entrance, fixing up his suit and tie and slinging the strap of his briefcase over his shoulder. 

The guard by the door snapped his fingers for identification. Andrew flicked his license towards him, gaze deadened by boredom. The guard almost winced when Andrew sighed, looking to the clock. Once he was finally granted access, he took the lanyard and shoved his way through the doors. 

Visitation was close to shutting up when Andrew arrived, miserable loved ones reaching for final hugs and brief kisses. Andrew was lead by the duty guard to a private room, waiting by the barred door. 

Wesninski was already waiting for him inside. His hands were cuffed to the table, fiddling with a blunt key. His red curls were overgrown and messy, the grey jumpsuit hanging off his small frame. 

When the door clanged shut, Wesninski looked up. His eyes were the most spectacular blue Andrew had ever seen, his face marred by horrific scars and the stitches used to hold him together. He looked ridiculously unimpressed. Andrew, meanwhile, smothered any flickers of emotion as intrigue sparked in his chest. 

Damn, he thought.

“Unlock him,” Andrew said, to the guard. 

The guard arched an eyebrow. “You sure?” 

“Obviously,” Andrew said, rolling his eyes. He didn’t have knives on his person - they’d set off the metal detector - but he was never vulnerable. He made a promise that he’d never be taken advantage of again. 

Wesninski flexed his wrists when the guard unlocked them, giving Andrew a thinly veiled look of appraisal. The guard immediately skittered off to stand outside the door, holding the interrogation room’s keys in tightly clenched fists. 

“So,” Wesninski said, holding out a hand. “You’re the famous Andrew Minyard.” 

"And you are the infamous Nathaniel Wesninski,” Andrew returned, ignoring the warmth of his skin as they shook hands. He sat down: the shitty metal chair creaked. “We both seem to have names and reputations that precede us.” 

Nathaniel’s eye twitched slightly. “I prefer Neil.”

Andrew leant back in his chair, leg crossed at the ankle. “You seriously think they’re going to let you out?” 

“Well,” Neil admitted. “Probably not. But I figured I’d give it a shot. It should be safer out there now.”

“You’ve been hiding in here? Who from, your father’s ghost?” 

Neil was not impressed. “His bosses, actually. But since Kengo’s second son was shot between the eyes and his first son locked up for it, I should be fine.”

“Riko and Ichirou,” Andrew deduced. “Kevin’s mentioned them once or twice.”

Neil just glared. “I can’t believe that coward won’t help me.” 

Andrew narrowed his eyes. “He owes you, does he? What for? Helping him escape the Moriyamas? Wait - that was me. What about coping with his trauma and reestablishing his career? Nevermind - that was me, too. Goodness, you haven’t been around much, have you? Right, right,” Andrew leaned over the table, resting his chin on his laced fingers. “You’ve been in jail for ten years.”

“You are not funny,” Neil snapped, gripping onto his blunt key.

“I don’t know if it’s worth my time, Mr Wesninski,” Neil flinched again. “Convince me.” 

“Other than it’s what is just?” Andrew arched an eyebrow. Neil huffed. “Fine. I’ll pay you. Double your normal fee.” 

“Prison pays well, does it?” 

“Blood money,” Neil had the audacity to wink. Dammit, Andrew thought again. “I already know you’re quite happy to spend dirty cash, Minyard. A G6, right? Bit of an upgrade from your mother’s car.” 

He should not know that. “You’re not exactly winning me over, here.” 

Neil leaned back in his chair, fiddling with the stupid little key. He must have spent the last decade tracing it down to its current blunt status. Andrew wondered what it used to unlock. 

Okay - he was intrigued by Neil. And yes, his narrative fit Andrew’s bill. And some spare cash wouldn’t hurt: he could sent Nicky and Erik over to Christmas for the summer. 

“What’s something you’ve never given anyone?” Andrew inquired. 

Neil looked up from under his ruby-tinted lashes. “What?” 

“I want something that no one else has.” Andrew leaned further forward, leaning in close. “What do you have to offer me, Wesninski?”

For a moment, Neil simply stared. His fingers stilled. He definitely had a few tattoos and scars, from what Andrew could glean at the little slice of a sharp collarbone, exposed by the jumpsuit. 

It was silent - almost electric. Andrew watched as something behind Neil’s eyes crumbled, the exhaustion settling in, the loneliness of a man who had known nothing but pain and suffering and isolation. 

“Everyone knows Nathaniel Wesninski,” Neil said. “No one knows Neil.” 

Andrew felt the remnants of a smirk tug at the corner of his lips. 

“I’ll tell you the truth,” Neil offered, glaring at the table like it offended him. “I’ve never told the truth before.” 

Andrew stood up, offering his hand. Neil followed suit, grip hesitant where he clasped Andrew’s hand.

“I’ll get you out of here,” Andrew said. 

“You’ll try,” Neil corrected him. 

“Here’s something you should know about me, Neil,” Andrew tugged on his suit jacket, fixing his cuffs. “I never fail a promise.” 

Andrew felt Neil’s gaze, watching him as he left. As Andrew filtered past the guard, he snuck a two hundred into the guard’s pocket. 

“Nine o’clock, tomorrow morning,” he said. “Bring him here.” 

The guard, moon-eyed, just nodded. 

Andrew glanced over his shoulder for one last assessment of his newest client. Neil was leant against the table they had spoken at, arms crossed as he glared in Andrew’s direction. His hair flopped forward, masking one eye. Like this, with his tattooed forearms and shoulders and hell-fire hair, he looked dangerous. 

In his right hand, he played with his key. 

Andrew spun on his heel and left. He knew he’d made the right decision. 

Neil Wesninski would get out of jail, if it was the last thing Andrew did. 

*

[justoneday-namjoonii]

jk!mafia drabble #2 | it burns, doesn’t it?

⇁ [anon request]: Im a sucker for the petty angsttt, can you write more about JK & Jiyoon 👀 like, Y/N finds out more stuff about them. 👀👀 its all up to you, anything you write is a masterpiece💜

series: 18/? - It burns, doesn’t it? pairing: Jungkook x reader author’s note: this is a mess but enjoy! thank u for requesting, I got a little creative, I think my recent Taehyung obsession is showing 👀 lol warnings: idk what this is tbh lol, major manipulator themes, slut-shaming (idk kind of not sure if it qualifies but I thought I’d warn you anyway), speculated infidelity, might be triggering to some proceed with caution

*

*

*

*

You sit across from him at the diner booth, eyes are narrowed at the scrambled eggs greasy bacon. You don't want it.

"Eat a little," Jungkook takes a bite of his bacon, "it's not bad."

"I'm good," You shake your head, insistent on satisfying yourself with the small bowl of grapes. He glances out of the window, not wanting to upset you today, he wants to start the day off right. He offered to take you out of the house for breakfast and you were fine with it. Maybe you two can finally go back to hw things used to be, when the love was young and sweet on the tongue. It’s still sweet, but it’s grown far more complex than what was initially expected. These days, trust is something you have to remind yourself that you need in order to make this work. It’s tough, but you’re trying.

What Taehyung said keeps coming to your mind. 

He is a lot of things, but he's not a liar.

***

You were in the garage trying to take the guns apart and put them back together. Jungkook showed you about five times before he left and made sure to take the bullets out so you could practice. You were laser-focused so you paid little attention to the person entering the garage.

"The slide is loose," The gun is lifted from your grasp swiftly, "and the barrel should be placed like this," 

Taehyung promptly puts your attempt to assemble the weapon to shame. When he places the gun on the table in front of you, it's apparent how much practice he's had doing this.

"If you tried to shoot that thing, it would blow your fucking face off." 

You lower your head, shy hands picking up the firearm to dismantle it again.

"So, you convinced your daddy to let you play with his toys," He mocks, plundering through the drawers on the walls, "you're moving up, Y/n."

"Piss off," You grimace, resisting the urge to throw something at him, "it's not like that."

"It's just you and me here, everyone else went out for the night, but they should be back soon," He pulls up a chair to your little table and your stomach turns at the proximity.

"Then why are you here? Where's Hoseok?" You remain focused, taking the gun apart with calculated movements. "Why aren’t you with him..."

"I had to come back to get this," He shows you a box but not the contents inside, "didn't think you were still here, Jungkook said you were gonna go with him."

You stare down at the dismantled gun and then up at him. He recently changed his hair, it's out of his face and lighter, making his appearance less ominous than before. But you know better, his looks can't change who he is or what he's done to you. Yet, you sit across from him, choosing not to judge him for his sins. You've killed before, out of defense but you still did it. You don't deserve to be here but grace precedes you somehow—you're grateful.

"Somehow we keep getting the house to ourselves," He sighs, taking out his phone to tap on it mindlessly, "gives me time to get to know you."

"You already know enough about me," You turn the gun on the table, trying to put it back together with the last few steps, "I don't know much about you though."

"You want to?" He crooks a brow.

"Why not? Might as well," You shrug, it couldn't hurt to hear more about who he is. Maybe you'll better understand why he is the way he is, "for one, how did you get into torture?"

He sighs, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I like to think of it as hands-on interrogation. I'm fascinated by the mind, how it can be manipulated to work against itself. I think it’s interesting to break someone down, to hear what I want to hear. If I do it right, they end up forming an attachment to me- Well, not me but to the persona that I choose to subdue them with, like you."

"I'm not attached to you," You frown, "you're mistaking be me being traumatized for submission..."

"It's the same to me, I get the result I want either way."

You are about halfway through assembling the gun but Taehyung suddenly takes it again, stirring frustration in your chest. You try to grab it back but he holds it out of your reach, "Give it back!-" 

"Ah, ah," He waits for you to sit back, "I know something that you don't know about Jungkook," He says that like a child, "do you want to know what it is?"

"What're you talking about?" 

"He and Jiyoon had a little run-in when you were gone, that night he was going through it. You've probably never seen him like that but it is a sight, I'll tell you that."

* * *

He moves his foot against yours, a grin on his lips that speak pages of what he’s thinking. 

"So, I wanted to talk to you, about something," You swallow, dropping the grape back in the bowl.

"About something," He repeats in a cute little mocking tone, "about what beautiful?"

"Did you ever, I don't know...Blackout when we were separated?" You know that sounded pretty vague but he knows what you mean.

"Blackout?" He tilts his head, mentally he rakes through the countless lonely nights. "I might have had too much to drink on some nights, maybe...Why?"

"Because that's the only reason you would touch Jiyoon again...You wouldn't actually do that if you were conscious. I heard you were seen with her..."

"Why are you talking about her?" He frowns, sitting back in the booth.

"Taehyung told me you were on a downward spiral one night and you didn't come back until the next morning, were you with her?..."

* * *

"You have to admit, you're not what anyone would have thought he'd end up with. Jiyoon literally sleeps around as apart-time job, she's good at it so I don't know how you could compete with that and win."

You feel like you're decreasing the more he talks. 

"He may not act like it now, but he was crazy about her years ago. I mean, she's beautiful, she worked for his lifestyle and they had a mutual understanding. When you came around, they had broken up with each other about a year prior, he got over her fast though."

“I know that..." You knew Jiyoon and Jungkook had a lot of history, but you made peace with it and you know he loves you. 

"I ran into her after that night, she said he acted like you two weren't together anymore. He let her have it like he used to," He looks up at you, waiting for you to look him in the eye but you seem to diminish in size while avoiding eye contact, "that's what she claims."

"What do you mean?" You press your lips in a flat line.

"You know what I mean," He jeers, swiping a tongue over his bottom lip. "unless you really are that innocent, which I don’t think you are."

"He wouldn’t do that..."  

"Well, it would make sense," He stands to his feet suddenly, gun still in hand as he paces around the table, "what did you expect? You were fucking with Jimin, it’s what you get."

"It wasn't like that!” You surprise yourself when your hear your raised tone of voice, “Jimin is a friend, that’s it, I wo"

"Maybe you were mad at Jungkook, and you might have just subconsciously tried to replace him. If you would lay down with Jimin, well I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted a piece of the others, that would be interesting," He is just being mean now, he knows that would never happen, not even if you wanted it, "or even me. You seem to drop everything for men who can protect you,"

"Shut up, you’re disgusting...I don’t want any of you like that. And even if I did, that part of my life is none of your fucking business.” You hiss, fists clenched tightly. “I wouldn’t do something like that/”

“Of course you haven’t done anything too crazy, what would Jungkook think about? If he still wanted you, he would probably take you in front of anyone he wanted just to prove a point-” 

You sling your hand across his face with enough force to leave it burning. His cheek is bright red and you’re fuming. You look him dead in the eyes, "Fuck you."

“Shit, Y/n,” He genuinely laughs, setting the gun on the table so he can hold his burning cheek. "Jungkook can go off and do whatever the hell he wants but you? You don't have that luxury, he leaves you here for me to play with, and this is how you treat me? isn’t that just sad?"

"Shut up!" You pick up the gun and before you know it you're throwing it and it misses his face by a centimetre. "I'm in a twisted situation and you make it a hundred times worse. You torment me knowing Jungkook cares about me, you want me to hate him. You want him to hate me. The same crap you tell me, you probably tell to him too." 

He takes a moment to think over his response before walking up to you slowly. Instinctively, you take a step back and stand firm.

"Ask him." He dares. "Ask Jungkook if he remembers what happened that night."

"I don't have to, I trust him." You want to disappear. You don’t believe what’s coming out of his mouth or yours.

"Okay, just know that I don’t blame you for wanting any other man...You were both lonely, Jungkook had his fair share fun while you were away too." 

He’s messing with your head, that’s all he’s ever done to you. 

Right?

[peakatseven]

MICHAAAA CONGRATULATIONS

🌕 broke a finger knocking on your bedroom door I got splinters in my knuckles crawling across the floor

andddd

🎸 haunted

this bitch really came for me asking for a story AND a cover of such a hard song to sing. okay thanks i guess.

nah im just kidding babe i had so much fun writing this! i feel like it’s the first time in years that i’m posting proper fanfiction? kind of? idk i was trying to find another name for the mc but i kept picturing frat boy harry so here we go:

Concentration is impossible when the silence is loud and the work is important. The worst part is when one starts thinking about the need of being concentrated, rather than the actual work that needs to be done. As a university student, Harry was no different than most: his anxiety about school and his future co-existed with the emotional backlash of relationships and the need to "experience the best years of your life". There were few people with whom he wouldn't worry about meeting some kind of expectation. But she had been silent with him for the better part of a year. Images of Caro kept coming back to him, a trauma he couldn't let go off. Granted, it was the one painful brake up he'd experienced, one that was never truly over. Even now, uncountable names in between him and her, he still couldn't get her blue eyes off of his mind. The thought of her porcelain skin over his sun-kissed body came to him every single one of his one-night-stands. And at that moment, sitting on his desk, trying to get his homework done, the memory of her laughter drowned every sentence he tried to compose. He forced everything out with a loud grunt, grabbing his head with both hands and pulling on his hair. "The results show that 73.3% of patients responded positively to the treatment." He voiced out loud, trying to silence Caro's laughter in his mind. "No, that's bullshit." After a few moments staring at the cursor beeping at the end of his last sentence, he finally shut the laptop down. On an impulse, he unlocked his phone and opened a conversation from three days prior. He should've answered it when he got the text, but he wasn't in the mood at the time. "Hey, babe, wanna go for a beer rn?" He wasn't even done changing when the phone buzzed on the table. Two happy emojis popped up, and then a "Meet you there in 10". He kept the speed up as he rode off campus, through a park and then into the city. He was glad for the chill air against his face, numbing it to the point where it was the only thing he was able to think about. Finally some peace of mind. It wasn't dark yet when he got to the bar, but the sun had already set behind the buildings. There was one single tree, barely taller than him but strong enough to hold his bike. As he secured it, a red leaf fell to his knee. It was autumn when he got to kiss Caro for the first time, and it was also autumn when he kissed her last. "Nope. Something else, think of something else." he thought to himself. Incapable of coming up with anything, he brought out a cigarette and inhaled deeply. Somewhere inside him, there was a bit of guilt about what he was trying to do. But it'd been so long since he started that it no longer bothered him. His new game was called Darren. The younger guy looked like a model, straight silver hair and pale skin that Harry couldn't wait to leave marks on. All he could think about when Darren was around was the things he wanted to do to him. It was purely sensual, and that was pretty clear from the start. Or at least that's what he told himself. That Darren was on the same page as him- no strings attached, just fun and games. But the way his phone had been buzzing ever since he got on the bike, there was clearly more interest from one side. But instead of doing the right thing, and not stringing him along, Harry was about to sleep with him again and leave with a lame excuse to not spend the night. And then it was back to emotionless texts, conversations on the verge of ghosting him just in case he'd be in the mood again. But it was okay, Darren was playing the same game. He had the same dynamic with a lot of people lately. None knew of each other. They didn't have to, and they didn't ask either. He was no monster, though. Harry would tell that to himself constantly. That because no one had explicitly asked for exclusivity, it was implied they weren't obliged to it. The only one who did, what was her name again? Odella... no, that's not right... Ornella, maybe? He laughed dryly at himself. He'd become one of those guys that didn't even remember the names of all of his

partners. But he was no dougebag, when Ornella asked to be exclusive, he straight up told her no and then never bothered her again. They weren't on the same page anymore, so no more games. He wondered if that would ever happen with Darren too. There was not much time to think about this, because he was soon greeting the guy with a half hug and a gentle kiss just beside his lips. "You smell nice." Darren said, hands in his pockets and scarf almost over his mouth. "You just like the smell of tabacco." Harry smirked and put the unfinished cigarette down. "Let's get in, you're freezing." The night went exactly how Harry planned it. All his jokes were welcomed by Darren, and he let the young boy win at pull- he was cute when he bragged about his skills. But the best feeling was whenever Harry would approach Darren. A stroke of the lower back, a smirk from the other side of the table, a kiss when no one was near... Darren accepted any and everything Harry was willing to give him. The power high that it gave him to have someone be so devoted to him was indescribable. But the night was fully set and he was growing impatient. "Let's get out of here." He whispered to Darren's ear right before his turn. Darren had already started pulling Harry's bike for him when the phone on his pocket buzzed again. Harry walked alongside his date, though his eyes were on his phone. He had a lost call that he hadn't noticed while inside. The number wasn't saved to his phone anymore, but he hadn't managed to erase it from his own memory yet. "Oh, shit." He whispered. "I... Sorry, man, I have to go. There's a- um, it's a family thing." Harry was on his bike before his date could answer. He didn't even look at Darren's eyes before leaving. There was a sting of guilt building up, and maybe he'd feel disgusted by himself if it wasn't for the sheer adrenaline running through his veins. Maybe the alcohol had a bit to do with it too. This had only happened a few times before, and the outcome was always the same. Still, Harry couldn't keep himself from falling to his knees when it came to her. As he rode his bike as fast as he could go, a cynical smile crept on his lips. How ironic. Darren was probably feeling the same way about Harry just a few hours prior. Whenever Caro was in town, she stayed at her best friend's apartment- all the way on the other side of the city. So it was past midnight already when he got to the building. There was a party on the roof, maybe they could sneak in for more drinks. She had some catching up to do, as Harry was already tipsy. Still, he didn't have to check the phone to know which floor to go to and which door to knock. Just like everything else about Caro, he had it indefinitely memorized. 409, the doorknocker was a silver seagull. A very heavy, silver seagull. At first, Harry didn't feel it when his finger got caught in between the door and the seagull, but by the third time he knocked, it started changing colour. "Hm." He said to himself as he examined the swollen-red finger. He put it in his mouth and kept on knocking to the beat of the music coming from above. Why did they have the music so loud? Harry could barely hear his own thoughts, so the neighbours had to be furious about this noise. Carolina was probably waiting for Harry, who was already late due to how far he was when she texted him. "Fuck!" He said, taking his phone out of his pocket again. He hadn't answered. Dumb ass. "im herre" He sent the text before reading the ones Caro had sent before. One was a laughing emoji and the other was a voice note. There were people laughing on the background, and someone turned the music down a bit for Caro to speak into her phone. "I'm so sorry, ignore that, it was a dare." She half said, half laughed. Harry didn't understand, so he played it again. Again. Again. And again one more time. Was she talking about the lost call? or was it about her being in town? Had he really fallen for such a stupid trap? Harry fell to the floor, phone glued to his ear as the voice note played over and over again. His chest was about to

explode, face red and throat dry. He knocked on the door again, now with his fist. The inevitable tear fell down his cheek, though it was impossible to know if it was sadness or anger that caused it. "Oh, god." Someone said behind him. But when he turned around, the stairs were empty and someone on hills was running up the stairs. He got up and ran after them, but he was too intoxicated to keep up. He fell halfway up the stairs, having to crawl for a few steps before getting up. On the rooftop, there were too many people in heels to know which one had seen him. "Great." He sight. Might as well look around. He walked around the place, inhaling the cold air of the night and trying to calm down, make sense of what had just happened. He was about to light up his last cigarette when someone took it from him. She had long purple nails and her skin glowed under the moonlight. She smirked as the cigarette reached her mouth. He lit it up for her. "I didn't think you'd actually come." She said. Her smirk turned into a sincere smile. "You told me to." "Yes, but I also said you should ignore that." "Well I didn't." He took the cigarette from her fingers and smoked himself before speaking again. "Should I go?" He wanted to seem as cool with the situation as she appeared to be, hide the fact that he had just been played like a puppet for a fucking drinking game dare. "What happened to you finger?" She shouted, stepping closer to him. "I- I don't remember." Harry lied. There was still a bit of dignity to be salvaged. And there it was, but this time it was real. Her laugh, once again, drowned every thought on his mind. There was no music and no people around them anymore, it was just him and her, together again, laughing in the middle of the night. "You know I meant to call you, right?" Caro said, a hand tenderly rubbing his arm. She knew exactly what she was doing, and he knew it too. "I'm sure you did." He said. "I did!" She pushed him a little, both cracking a knowing smile. "I promise I did, it's just that-" "Shut the fuck up." He felt more stable now that he'd taken some air and the alcohol effect had cooled down. "It's okay, Caro. Let's just have fun tonight and see what happens." "Sounds fun." She leaned in and kissed him on his cheek, the kiss lingering just a second too long. He instinctively put a hand on her hip, but she walked away swiftly after the kiss. The pain on his chest came back, and the little composure he had gained crumbled. She wasn't coming back to him. This time it was definitive, and it had been for a while now. But the worst realization that came to him that night, was how much power she had over him. How much hope, urge, love, anger and pain she could cause in just a matter of hours. She had him at her mercy, like a puppet she could toy with however she wanted. They were both the same kind of wicked, using others for validation, feasting on their adoration. But as much pain as it caused him to know he was at the other end of his own game, it also sparked joy to know he could provide that for her.

[purplepalmdelight]

why life is still okay (rambling fic rec pt. 1)

firstly: shout out to @trulyalpha for apparently owning my entire bookmarks page on ao3 (bc i only realised all my favourite fics were written by the same person,,, yesterday. bc im really smart like that) anyway breakdown of why she’s a stoncy saving grace thanks!!!

you ease my mind, you make everything feel fine.

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/13842039)

yes this fic is from 2018. yes i read it every other week. it’s good for the SOUL. jonathan getting taken care of is always just such a good and sweet concept (maybe it’s my intense, undying love of him, but he deserves to be taken care okay) and. okay i’ll admit, sometimes i forget how fucking FUNNY this fic is, but it’s genuinely hilarious, okay? you gotta trust me on this. it makes me cackle at inappropriate times absurdly often. ("Hi." "Hi." "I want you, you fuck." is a top line. i laugh so hard every TIME.) all three of them are so incredibly in character, and somehow this NAILS the fact that they’re all massive disasters pretending to be confident. and i’m not someone that reads ~smut~ often (though it’s more mentioned than described, very non-explicit) but this didn’t make me even the least bit uncomfortable. it felt very natural and in character and made me laugh as much as the rest of the story. all in all, i always come away a little more in love with the characters, and that’s a really precious feeling.

you could be the one to make me feel something

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/14269476/chapters/32912745)

i take back everything i’ve ever claimed. this IS the funniest piece of writing i’ve ever read, and it WILL remain so, probably until the day i die. i honestly... barely have words. my expectations were high when i started it, but in retrospect, they were LEAGUES below what i got. the characterisation, the progression, the dialogue, the story; from the overarching aspects to the tiny details, it’s impeccable. i genuinely read this twice in one day, and then again the next. every single part of it is so good, but in terms of FAVOURITES... the christmas section. hilarious. down to its bones, well crafted and heart felt. it hits me right in the chest every time. the story, from the beginning, has me just as in love with nancy and steve as jonathan is, and as everything grows more intense, so does my investment. it pulls me in and doesn’t let me go until it’s good and ready to see me leave. again, the sexy aspects are so in character and natural that it’s uncomfortable or weird to read and instead just leave me grinning like an idiot. also ( “It did frustrate me, in more ways than one. It’s also a weird plan, like … did you expect me to be so overwhelmed by the power of a boner that I’d just admit my feelings?” is SUCH a funny line, i think about it literally every day. literally. every. day.) the characters are afraid to be messy, to make mistakes, and they all feel so ALIVE that when i leave the story, i feel like i’m leaving a friend. it’s honestly beautiful and honestly breathtaking. this story is better than a lot of published books, honestly, and i’m so grateful for it. so thank you.

i crash my car ‘cause i wanna get carried away!

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/17131202)

...you really wanted to make me cry, huh? i cried out of grief, yeah, out of the depth of nancy’s guilt and the pure rawness of her mourning, but i also cried out of catharsis as she came to terms, and out of laughter a few times. the bit about total eclipse of the heart as a motif was... that was so well done. i hate drawing comparisons, so please understand that this is criticism of a concept and not a particular story, but in so many stories then nancy’s grief feels... trivialised? that’s not quite the right word. romanticised, maybe. as someone who has lost a friend in the past, it’s just... it doesn’t feel realistic? and that’s okay, because it’s hard to nail something you haven’t experienced, and i wouldn’t wish the experience on anyone. it’s just that stories like this, where i can really resonate with nancy and follow the journey of her recovery WITH her are so rare. this story is a gem, it really is. i don’t love it for all the same reasons as the others, but i love it fiercely all the same.

there’s nothing magic going on, and then along came you

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/14994137)

sure, you could be the one is the funniest fic i’ll probably ever read, but nothing magic is such a close second. it’s laugh-out-loud, get-tears-in-your-eyes, fall-out-of-your-chair, and it’s also so goddamn SWEET i can hardly stand it. of the several fics i generally group together in my head (nothing magic, you could be the one + its sequels (might have to make an individual post about this series), laugh until we think we’ll die, and got nothing for you; all very similar, yet incredibly unique) nothing magic is the shortest, but that doesn’t mean it compromises on quality, oh no. it just means i can read it quicker, and therefore more often! when it’s late and i’m tired and i need a laugh to calm down before i sleep, i generally go search this fic up. remember when i mentioned the whole “being just as in love with nancy and steve as jonathan is” thing? it’s like that except... almost funnier. in you could be the one, it’s just that the story naturally tugs you into adoring these two messy, silly, sweet, amazing young adults, because how could you not? how else could you possibly feel? but here, they are genuinely just... that funny. they are actually just so funny that you as a reader click with them and find yourself grinning like an IDIOT because oh my god you’re disasters. maybe it’s the inherent relatability of a tired highschooler trying to make it through the summer and hating his job along the way, but this fic hits right in the heart every damn time.

got nothing for you other than love

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/17596658)

"You trust me," she says.

They both know it's a fact, not question, but he still says, "Of course."

and

By then, his shell wasn't something he could step out of. It was part of him. But that was okay. He didn't need more. What he had was enough.

He always did have trouble with wanting more.

and

"Hey, babe?" Nancy turns her head to look at Steve, touching his shoulder. "Can you buy me a drink?"

"Sure thing. What d'ya want?"

"Surprise me. Not like that time we were here and you snuck out the store, went to a smoothie stand, and came back with a mango smoothie."

Steve grins. "But I did surprise you."

and

"Do you have food in the backseat?"

"The sandwich has only been there for like, two weeks—"

and

"Ugh. Too much cheese. I'm lactose-intolerant, remember?"

"False, you're not intolerant of anyone except people over the age of fifteen with bowl cuts and guys who wear shorts in the winter."

and

"Where are you off to? I'm your only friend," Kali says, frowning.

and

"You good, man?"

"Yeah," he says, his throat dry, "I'm great."

"Yeah, you are," Nancy says, and he is. He is.

and i can’t continue because that’s, like, barely halfway into the fic and i’ve already skipped so many of my favourite lines and i would have to skip so many more. you see what i mean about sathana being funny as hell? and like all the others, it’s not just the humour here. i mean... it is, because it’s SO FUCKING FUNNY I LITERALLY CANNOT SAY THAT ENOUGH but the reason it’s so funny is because it’s so candid. it’s so smooth. the whole thing flows. you’re not left feeling that you’ve missed a piece or that anything was sacrificed; you just feel like you’ve read something incredible. this fic is an experience of its own that i honestly have never experienced before. it’s sweet, and it’s gentle, and it’s just so overwhelmingly good that i don’t think i’ll ever quite get over it. in short? it’s a blessing. my expectations were high, but holy fuck did you blow them to bits.

one more favourite line:

Things are ending, things are starting, and everything looks bright. It won't always be that way. The sun's got to set at some point. But, gazing up at the sky, at the pink bleeding into orange, Jonathan figures it'll have to rise again. No matter what happens, these two things are constant.

"Hey, you look awfully lonely," Nancy calls out, walking towards him, reaching out to him with the hand not in Steve's.

Well. Maybe not just those two things.

that scene, in general, is beautiful, and it wraps the story up on such a genuine note. it feels like a film with how clearly i can picture it. it feels like no fic i’ve ever really read before. it feels... good. i guess i don’t really have the words. it just feels so good.

as an overall statement on why i call her my favourite author... it’s the realism. maybe that’s surprising, considering how many times i said “funny” or “hilarious” in here, but in the end, i wouldn’t be so attached to her work if it didn’t feel so real. i can open a tab and instantly get transported to a home i’ve never lived in. it’s comfortable. it’s sweet. and the dialogue/banter is always perfectly crafted. there’s just never really a downside to her fics, honestly. even if i wanted to search, i don’t think i’d find one. not even one of those “their only problem is that there’s not more to enjoy” kind of comments, because every single one feels perfectly crafted in its own right. it doesn’t need more or less. it stands for itself and it’s goddamn good at it.

i didn’t anticipate having to do multiple parts on this post, but- surprise surprise- i haven’t even gotten to my favourite one yet! so yeah, pt. 2 will be written after i finish the history essay trying to murder me, god knows when that is. in the meantime, please go give her some love and adoration. she deserves it.