#wait the ending being like him reading a letter / diary you wrote ):

[sadembryhours]

got a request for josh washington nd the angstiest thought :

w*ndigo!josh being self-aware of what hes doing, even when the love of his life is standing in front of him (:

inspired by strangers by ethel cain

[writingroom21]

Letters To Your Lover

Pairing: rafe x reader

Summary: After moving into a new place together, Rafe finds your old middle school diary. Along with it the thousands of love letters to your middle school crush.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up), orgasim denial, Rafe being an idiot, let me know if I missed any

Wc: 1K

“What the hell is this?”

 Rafe burst into the living room holding a little bound notebook. The two of you just moved in together after dating for a year and a half. You were in the middle of unpacking the kitchen boxes as he was in the bedroom going through both of your boxes. That's when he found the little book at the bottom of one of your boxes. 

Curiosity got the best of him and he had to take a look. At first everything was fine. Some notes from when you were in middle school. Then as he kept going he noticed a shift, it started to become a diary a few pages in. Stories of your days painted on the page for him to take a glimpse of your childhood.

His smile faded when he found the first letter. A little note to your crush that seemed to be never ending. Letter after letter gushing about some kid you were obsessed with. Realistically he knows that this was middle school you, the two of you weren't even friends until Junior year of highschool.

There’s no logical reason for him to be so upset about some old crush you had. Then he thinks about the fact you kept them. He looks at the pages, imprinting the letters to memory. He can’t shake the feeling that this is who you really want, there’s no other explanation as to why you would still have these.

Dear pretty boy,

Today you smiled at me in the hall and it made the butterflies in my stomach flutter. I wish you would fully notice me. I would do anything for you to actually feel the same way about me. But it’s okay, I can wait.

Hey pretty boy,

Your eyes are so pretty, they have become my favorite color. The way you smile is so bright and I wish I could make you that happy. Everyday I wake up hoping this will be the day you notice me. Maybe tomorrow will be the day, maybe not. All I know is that deep down we are meant for each other.

The list goes on, note after note. It disgusts him to think that you even call him that. That’s your special nickname for him and here it is used for another guy. His anger gets the best of him and now he’s standing in front of you. Holding the book in your face as you give him a confused look.

“Umm a diary?” He scoffs and throws it on the counter behind you. “Yeah, one filled with love letters.” It clicked in your head that he read it and saw all the cringy letters you wrote. “Oh god you read all of those? I'm so embarrassed right now.” You have got to be kidding him. You’re embarrassed because he read them and not over the fact you kept something for another person.

“God I knew you liked being a slut but really keeping this shit is something else. Just thought I wouldn’t find this.” What is he even going on about? It’s something you did as a child. “Rafe.” He does let you continue your sentence. “Get on your knees right now.” He’s unbuckling his belt as you sink to the floor. 

Whipping out his dick, he starts to stroke it as you open your mouth for him. This isn’t the first time he’s punished you like this. He finds it amusing to watch the tears pool up in your eyes as you try not to choke on him. Without much care he shoves himself into your waiting mouth, touching the back of your throat before retreating. The cycle continues, he brutally face fucks you in the middle of the kitchen.

The sounds of your choked moans and gags fill up the room. Tears are falling down your cheeks only fueling him. “Maybe next time you’ll think about not writing to someone else. Fucking dumbass catching your attention.” Wait, is this what it’s all about? The letters being to someone else? God this man could be dumb.

Just before he’s about to cum he pulls out and grips your hair to tug you up. “Come on, bend over. I’m only cumming in your pussy.” He manhandles you over the counter and pulls your shorts along with your panties down. You are already soaked from sucking him off so he easily slid right in. “Wuch a wet fucking pussy. You just love when you suck me off don’t you sweetie. My little cock drunk whore.” You moan loudly at his words.

His pace gets faster if that’s even possible, thrusting hard into you. “Who do you belong to?” Rafe has always been possessive but never in the bedroom. Something about reading your silly crush letters just set him off. He knows you liked other people but in his brain he was the only one you ever wanted. Seeing it aimed at someone else is like torture, even if it was from years ago. 

His thrust gets more intense, ready to cum any minute. “Come on, tell me.” he delivers a hard smack to the globe of your ass. “You baby. Always going to be you.” Being satisfied with hearing you agree that you did it for him. Like an automatic response he was cumming right after your sentence ended.

The two of you stay there for a second, not really moving. Reluctantly he pulls out and slides your pants back up. Here’s the part of your punishment that you hate, orgasm denial. It’s known that anything he gives you is taken like a champ, finding pleasure in the pain. But this, he figured out how much you hate being denied an orgasm early on. That’s his favorite form of punishment.

“You know those letters were about you right?” You are still bent over the counter, forehead rested on it. He tenses behind you. “What?” You turn around and look at him, smiling at the dumbstruck look on him. “Those corny letters were about you dumbass. Had this huge crush on you back then.”

With no words he gives you a kiss and throws you over his shoulder. “What are you doing?” you giggle as he walks towards the bedroom. “We have a new bed to break in and it seems like I owe you a few orgasm’s as an apology” How could you argue with that? The rest of the night was spent wrapped in each other's arms, forgetting about the pile of boxes scattered around.

[vickyvicarious]

i'm catching up on my dracula daily and... wtf is up with that letter from Whitby Lucy wrote saying how much better she is doing? is she just lying to mina to not concern her during her honeymoon? because it goes against her last journal entry (where she says she's still feeling bad) and against arthur's letter from the following day asking for jack's help. like, what's up with that bit? do you think this entry was misplaced somewhere along the editing process?

Yeah, you've found the same thing that's had all the Daily readers scratching their heads. I've debated about it myself in the past, but I've landed pretty firmly on my interpretation. Short answer: it's probably just a timeline error on Stoker's part.

Long answer: As you say, it contradicts both Lucy's diary entry, and Arthur's letter on either side of this entry. For this to be the correct timing of the letter, she would have to be lying to Mina very blatantly and deliberately. While hiding her own distress so as not to worry others is very characteristic of Lucy, such blatant and extreme lying (sleeping super well! big appetite! and all those sports!) is not. It would be more typical of her to just not mention much about her own health, if it had worsened again.

Characterization aside, the letter being a lie goes against the theme throughout the book of the characters being emotionally honest with one another in the writing they share. Sure, they keep secrets and communication problems are a big theme as well (as we've already seen) but the documents themselves being trustworthy is a major element. I won't get into spoilers, but think about what we've already seen with Jonathan: he himself is uncertain about whether he was mad or not, but his journal holds the truth. Both we the audience, and the characters believe that. Jonathan tells Mina that "The secret is here, and I do not want to know it." Mina seals it shut because she chooses not to know with him on his request. But if she were to read it, she would know. Because his diary is true. As are all the other documents. They might not show a whole picture individually, but they aren't lies. That would go against the themes of the novel.

A final reason I don't think Lucy is lying here is logistical. The letter is postmarked from Whitby. But both her journal entry before it and Arthur's letter after it are from London (she's writing from her family home, Hillingham, and his letter is from Albemarle hotel in Piccadilly). So, in order for this to work, she would have to engage in much more intentional/difficult subterfuge. She'd have to either a) have someone take the letter to Whitby and mail it from there (unlikely; she doesn't seem to trust her vulnerabilities to her servants, and she doesn't like to make big asks, for just two reasons) b) write that it's from Whitby inside the letter and then send it from London and possibly expose the lie or bring up questions of why she waited until she left Whitby to send this letter without at least adding a postscript to that effect, or c) go to London, get ill, go back to Whitby, lie about being fine, then go back to London again the next day and continue being ill. Obviously that's massively unlikely. And there's no reason to even pretend to be in Whitby instead of London in the first place. Their trip wasn't ended because of Lucy's health (in fact, Dracula left Whitby on the 17th of August, and she was already doing better by the 18th/19th). It probably was the time they had planned to come back all along, and if she were lying to Mina she could just as easily lie about being happy and healthy in London as elsewhere.

I've seen it suggested that Lucy wrote the letter in Whitby but just held onto it and didn't send it until later, but that doesn't resolve the postmark. Also, her letter is a response to Mina's, with direct references to things like Mina and Jonathan being married now, and Jonathan being ill. I suppose one could argue that she was just anticipating they would be married/Jonathan would need to recover based on things Mina said before leaving Whitby, but it still feels odd.

So, with all of those reasons why Lucy can't be lying... I've got to conclude it's a simple timeline error, much like Seward's missing week (and/or three days) between 19/20 August. In fact, both of these errors being near the end of August suggests that Stoker may have had an idea of a more extended timeline around these events at first, and some lines/dates just never got edited to match the more condensed timeline we see in the book.

Lucy's letter appears as a response to Mina's (it's placed right after her wedding letter in the original book format) and while the experience in Dracula Daily is a stinging ominous contrast of Mina's joy and Lucy's alarming first diary entry which is very reminiscent to the early experience of Jonathan suffering/the ladies happily talking about summer plans... I don't think it's intended to be so direct a contrast in this case. Rather, we should be getting the brief lull on both fronts. Jonathan is alive! Mina has happily married him! Lucy is all better! Arthur has rejoined her! We get a brief moment of reunion and happiness for both couples, a small moment of relief before the pain comes rushing back in. But both of these come right after Seward's entry which ends with Renfield warning "It is coming—coming—coming!" so we know that the reprieve will be short. It's just slightly different pacing than what the daily format gives us.

(Also, the letter being true means Lucy and Arthur get to be happy together for a while before being separated again. Lucy gets to be healthy for a while before her 'mystery illness' returns. And I'm happy to let her have those things.)

In fact, speaking of original layout... Chapter 8 ends with Seward's August 19 entry. Then Chapter 9 begins like this: Mina's letter (August 24), Lucy's letter (August 30), Seward's diary (August 20), Lucy's diary (August 24), Arthur's letter (August 31). Once again we have some timeline confusion, and while the book as a whole is much less linear with the events it shows us, and definitely jumps back and forth a few days on more than one occasion, that still looks odd to me. My book has a footnote which suggests that Lucy's letter was meant to be send on the 20th instead, but of course that would mean she was writing before the letter she's ostensibly replying to. This could cause a minor cascade of other adjustments needing to be made. I've also seen it suggested here on tumblr (in this post by @thegoatsongs) that maybe Lucy's letter was received on the 30th, not sent. Her first letter (the one sent in emails on May 11) isn't actually dated, so this wouldn't be the first time dating oddness happened around her letters.

So... yeah, those are pretty much the reasons why Lucy probably is telling the truth, and Stoker/an editor who should've caught this kind of thing just messed up!

[heniareth]

13, 15 and 18 for the ship memeeeee? 🥰

Helloo Lilou!!!!!! Here are some answers for ya (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

13. How do they keep in contact when they’re apart? Do they write letters, talk on the phone, or simply wait out the time?

Given that this is Thedas and modern means of communication haven't been invented yet: letters. Letters, letters, so many letters. Although you bet that as soon as Dorian starts producing and selling his sending crystals, Astala is getting some. There's no way anybody can intercept their messages that way, too!

Especially during the time Zevran is in Antiva, they have to be very cautious about what they write in their letters, lest the Crows intercept their correspondence and either of them comes to harm. It's endlessly frustrating to Astala and very, very scary for Zevran because he knows exactly how capable the Crows are and therefore overthinks every little detail. He also writes way less letters due to the nature of his work. Astala writes them almost like they're a diary and then sends them off in a neat bundle (with some kind of protection to make sure nobody else opens them. She has the resources to do that as arlessa). She also sends pressed flowers, little doodles and small trinkets to Zevran. Zevran's letters are comparatively sparse, but they make up for it by being chock-full of sentiment. He is way better at words than Astala. Astala tries to let him know how much she loves and misses him, but she also doesn't want to distract him from work or add to his unhappiness over their separation, so you end up having to read between the lines of her day's report to get what she really means.

15. What songs remind you of their relationship?

Hoooooo boy oh boy oh boy!!!! Songs!!!!! I love those, I'm planning to listen to all those you put up for Revka and Zevran 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

For Zev and Astala, I have:

Dust to Dust by The Civil Wars: this is SO Astala and Zevran over the course of the Blight. The first verse is about Zevran, the second is about Astala, it's perfect.

Bulería by David Bisbal: I wrote the first version of Zevran's ambush on the Wardens to this song. It's dramatic, it's over the top, it's delightful. It's also a song that could fit Zevran's relationship to Rinna very well. I really don't want to pit Astala against Rinna, but both have a similar effect on Zev, and... well. The female LI dies in the music video. Like Rinna dies. And like Astala (almost) dies. If it fits, it sits

Alone by Heart: this is for a potential modern AU where Astala is recently widowed with a little kid and works shitty jobs and Zevran is an assassin on the run

18. How do they care for each other when one of them is wounded/sick?

Astala has experience caring for sick family, so she has very good bedside manner. Apart from care, she offers conversation and a distraction if Zevran wants it. She'll smile at his groaning and makes sure he takes whatever medicine he has to take, drinks and eats enough, has fresh bedsheets and clothing, all of those little things that make being sick or wounded a bit more manageable.

That said, if Zevran is in real, immediate danger, all that composure and her cool head falls away. With wounds she'll be tight-lipped and grim, but still help and do so well. If it's a very bad cough, however, if Zevran has spent days sick, unresponsive, and shows o signs of getting better, she gradually loses her nerves and patience. In these situations she needs somebody close who helps her take care of him, because the fear of losing him will gradually make her more scattered, have her freeze up, and generally impede her to function. She basically shuts down under the helplessness. All of this harks back to the time after Adaia's bed when her dad and Shianni got very sick with some kind of cough and she had to manage the household and take care of them. If Zevran gets something similar and gets it bad, it takes her right back to that time.

Zevran, on the other hand, has a terrible patient to manage. Astala will insist on getting up and wandering around when she shouldn't, so a lot of his efforts go towards keeping her in bed. Where the doctor said she should stay. He bears it with good humor whenever he can, makes sure there are plums or other fruit around the house for when Astala feels better, and is not above sitting on her if it will keep her down (he has a very stubborn wife). Apart from that, he'll attempt to lighten the situation with jokes and humor as much as he can. He will also read her letters she gets and pen down answers if she can't be convinced to not work.

The more serious things get, the less light Zevran will be able to make of the situation. He will still try, for Astala's sake, but most of his energies will be focused on getting help, getting medicine, making food, all of that. He is, arguably, better at keeping the work up when things get dire; he's able to set his feelings of helplessness aside and keep going. He can break if worst comes to worst and Astala dies, but right now she needs him functional.

-

And these have been the answers to these questions!! Thank you so much for indulging me, it's been fun to rotate these two in my brain XD XD XD Have a lovely day!!

[myfanfictiongarden]

The Words Spoken, The Mind Healed- Dracula (1897)

Because we were left out of the evening of 25th of September

----

Mina Harker´s Journal

26th of September- Early morning. The clock had just stuck half past eight as Jonathan went out of doors to bring over the good professor from his hotel to breakfast at our place. Because I will have a few minutes before they arrive, I shall put down what went on yesterday evening, my head full of thoughts and impressions that are so convoluted and entangled, that it seems like I carrie the Gordian knot itself and desperately need Alexander's sword to make end of it. To think that all is true…

After professor Van Helsing left to read the manuscripts at his room in the hotel, I was left again with Mary alone in this big house and decided to finish bookkeeping that needed to be done, but had a hard time concentrating. Yet, I was thankful for the distraction, for while concentrating on figures and numbers my mind stayed clear for a while of other thoughts that might have distressed me if dwelled on too long without rest. After I was finished with the calculations of expanses for the next week it was time to think of supper. A letter came from Van Helsing that lifted a heavy weight from my mind yet brought dark dread upon me as well. Jonathan was sane, my dear beloved the brave man I always thought him to be- but his captor was then real as well, as were the other beings of his kind, and he in London. While I sat down to compose an answer, a telegram arrived just at that moment from Jonathan, telling he would be back with the last train at 10:15, so Mary and I agreed on the meal, which I was to have earlier and later on then only tea and some biscuits as to keep him company while he sups. Night came and the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind St. Peter, the hours passing by too slowly. By 10 o’clock I had abandoned both the novel I had attempted to read, the printed letters morphing into bats and beasts and wolfs, as well as the needle work that hanged limply in my hands, and so kept watching through the window for his form to arrive and bring me peace. 

Finally the knock on the door and a moment later I there to open it. Seeing his face, if even in the dim light of the hallway lamp, made my heart easy and some tears of joy about to sprung, so I drew my arms around him in embrace last he should see them.

“I am so glad you are back home.”

“Me too. I missed you, even if it was only one day.”

“Did you have a pleasant journey? Wait, let me help you. Mary has left some cold lamb and vegetables so you can eat right away.” With his coat and hat sat off I began to hasten to make the dining room ready, but he insisted late supper in the kitchen would do just as well.

“You are too humble for a lawyer.” I told him while he took the first bite after having set up the table by himself, like if he were still a simple clerk and not the master of a nice house.

“You are right. From tomorrow on I´ll set up the household as that we should live like the Tsars in the Winter Palace.” I knew he was jesting and loved him the more for it.

While he ate I asked him more about how his trip to Launceston went and if his client was satisfied, and he told me as much of his work as he could, continuing later to describe the picturesque town and landscape he saw from the train.

“How was your day?” He asked.

“I had a visitor today. You know the gentleman that wrote me concerning Lucy’s passing? He was her doctor and is the mentor of one of Mr. Holmwood´s friends. Wishing to learn more about her illness he received permission to read her letters and diary, and so came upon my name and wanted to meet me as to ask about our stay in Whitby.”

“I'm sorry that you should have such a distracting visit, she was such a dear friend of yours.” He said and placed his hand on mine in a gesture of comfort. I went on-

“He also asked me about you.”

“About me?”

“Yes, in the letters to Lucy, and my diary kept in Whitby, there was much mention of you. He asked me about your business trip and your health, and feeling bold in his presence I gave him your journal to read. He says- he says its all true.” My voice went to a whisper at the last part and the words hung now in the air, silence following them. He moved his hand from mine, his eyes widening for a moment, before his look settles on his half empty plate and stays there, long heartbeats without movement.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please don’t be angry with me! You gave me your journal to keep and I promised you, upon my soul, that I shall have it safe, to only read if duty commands it, and I have kept my promise, for when that episode caught hold of you in London it became necessary to learn the cause of it, the cause of it all to save you from further distress!”

“It is all true, so I am sane.” He whispers finally, and before I know what’s happening he has moved his chair to mine and taken hold of both my hands in his, bringing them to his lips and kissing feverishly. 

“My Mina, my darling Mina, most beloved in the world! What a blessed husband I am in you! But you, you had read it all, and must know now that I would battle all these demons again, imaginary or real, just to make it to you. It pains me, pains me so that you had to witness that horrors even if only in writing, yet part of me is glad to have a confidante in your collected mind.” We kissed, and tears streamed down both our faces. 

It was getting late so we decided to move upstairs to our room, leaving the kitchen for Mary to clean in the morning. It was simply by going through the motions that I dressed for the night, glad when finally under the covers and Jonathan sitting by my side. The bells were toiling midnight through the silence of the night as we both waited for our mouths to form a coherent word.

“Tell me.” I said at last, and so he did. It was only a shorter account of his journey and his stay at the Count's castle, but hearing it from his own lips made it even more horrifying. He would stop at times, as if battling with himself and his memory to distinguish what had really happened and what might have been imagined, at times worried he might shock me too much, but he did not need to say everything in order for me to understand.

“And when I thought it all had just been an awful dream brought upon me by fever, and sure I had passed the worst, I saw him there across the street, in London, walking among people like he were a man too. And while he didn’t see me, I could see his eyes, forever burned into my mind as their were, so blazing red, like- like…”

“Red like the blood red setting sun.” I said as a memory washed over me.

“How do you now?” He asked, noticing my expression change as frightful realisation finally settled upon me.

“Because he was there that night with Lucy.” I told him finally the whole story of my stay by the sea, and that awful night that I had found her lying on our bench up by the old churchyard. He listened patently as I told of all her instances of sleepwalking that followed, of her ebbing spirits and the rattle of wings at night at our window.

“What ever illness she acquired there, he must have brought it with him. To think her sweet nature in his presence…”

“It truly is an illness that consumes body and soul. Don’t cry my darling, for what ever misplaced guilt you may feel- yes, I say misplaced for I know you already blame yourself for not having protected her better- it matters little when he sets his mind, believe me, I know from being in his presence and in the one of these frightful women, although that word is unfit to describe them just a he is little a man himself. I know not what he is, or what they are, nor what any of it means, but if this professor Van Helsing has as much wisdom as you say- and he seems to know a deal more than us poor people from Exeter- he will bring light into this terrible darkness and peace to our minds. There may be yet a way to fight this evil, and I am ready to take up my sword like St. George did when facing the dragon.” His voice was even and strong, and I could see a change in him, his old strength of mind returned. 

Full of gratitude for seeing him not doubting his mind  anymore, I leaned closer and kissed him gently.

“What ever we will have to face, we'll face it together. “

[tooruluv]

Katsuki Bakugou x F!Reader ( part 1 )

❝ ...and then there’s you. ❞

description: you and bakugou have hated each other since childhood. through the constant bickering, fighting, and actual fist fights... you had no idea that you had been writing to him.

genre: angst, soulmate au where you have a notebook that you can write to your soulmate in

word count: 3.8k

warnings/notes: strong language, lots of angst, aged up characters, bakugou being bakugou, reader has an air manipulation quirk created as part 1 of 3 for my winner of my tooruluv2kparty contest @katsulovee​ <33

teaser | part 2

| masterlist

“ ‘cause when the sun goes down, someone’s talking back ” - talking to the moon, bruno mars

┏━━━━━⋇⋆⋆⋇❦⋇⋆⋆⋇━━━━━┓

The storm only escalated, casting the sky in deep blues and greys. Loud rain clattered against the roof of your apartment building, the ceiling of your top floor apartment being the only thing that separated you from the pour. 

The rain may be cold, but you were on fire.

You had been livid all day, positively outraged by the man who seemed to always be in your way. He was the most arrogant, most opinionated, and most… loud-mouthed person you ever met. You were screaming from the inside out, burning with rage.

Groaning, you sprawled out on your bed.

Katsuki Bakugou was the biggest fucking issue on the planet. His absurd need to be the best at everything he did, his cold demeanor and venom that spews from his mouth -- you wanted nothing more than to punch him directly in the throat. 

With a deep breath, you flipped open your Soulmate Journal. 

The world was such a strange place, full of quirks and criminals and heroes and villains. To add on top of that, when you turn thirteen a journal just… appears. And whoever is your soulmate can read everything you write. Once they read it, they can reply or talk to you that way and the ink disappears. There are plenty of rules that go along with it, like if you turn thirteen before your soulmate does, the ink is red until they receive their own journal. Or how the journal itself is indestructible. Or the biggest rule: you cannot write any given name. 

When you’re thirteen, your life is full of hope and wishful thinking. Almost everyone at that age is excited to start writing to their Person, the one who they were supposed to be created to be with. You were surprised when you opened yours to find nothing written.

You assumed that you were a bit older than your soulmate, but that was quickly shut down as you wrote in black ink. Your soulmate hadn’t written anything. 

It took two months for him to write back. Two months of your excessive writing and nearly diary-like entries. Two months of you wondering if they would ever write back. Until he did.

Today sucked.

That was all you wrote, your past two months of writing still ever present and glaring at you with smudges and hinted annoyance. The ink started to fade like Harry talking to Tom Riddle, reappearing with new handwriting.

It was scrawled across the page with terrible handwriting, very much one of a middle school boy. 

Life sucks. Deal with it.

You were now twenty two, an adult and that once hope and love has turned into pessimism and indifference. And life still sucked. 

You were pretty famous, your air manipulation quirk one that catches a lot of attention. That, alongside your rivalry with the second most famous hero Bakugou, brought an abundance of recognition. Bakugou completely steals your thunder every chance he has, stealing your light and victories. 

You hated him. With the utmost disrespect, you hated him. Since your days in the hero academy, the two of you were at each other’s throats. He would even stop in the middle of antagonizing Deku to make some horrendous comment towards you instead. 

You ended up scribbling along the Soulmate Pages, heated rage boiling with each word.

Hey Honey! I need to vent if that’s okay.

Of course.

You would not believe the shit I have to endure in real life. I wish I could describe the hatred I have for this man I work with, he’s a real piece of shit. Anyway, how was your day?

My day was about the same as yours, living with the idiots of real life. If we could write names I would because there’s this bitch I work with that I fucking hate.

Maybe we need new jobs (insert laughing face even though I’m livid right now)

Yeah. Maybe. But we’ll get through it.

It took years for your soulmate to warm up to you. The first interactions were hesitant, slow, and barely considered conversations. But now you can discuss your day as if you were texting a friend, talk about your likes and dislikes. 

He was your soulmate after all.

You learned that he was a boy and an only kid, he had a strong quirk, and that he liked ramen. He was a rule follower and his handwriting always used proper punctuation. You told him all about your life and how you wanted to travel away from everything.

You wanted to know who he was, more than anything. 

You wished you could tell him your name and quirk, where you lived and who you were. You wished he could do the same. 

You’ve tried, of course, to write out your name and location. But the second the words were written onto the page, they turned into a random assortment of letters. Gibberish. Never to be written, never to be known.

“Dude, fucking relax!” You rubbed your temple at your desk, voice spitting venom against Bakugou’s loud vocals. “Not everything is about you, just sit down and wait to be sent on a mission.”

“What did you say to me?”

Katsuki Bakugou had been going on and on about how Deku got assigned to a mission in upper Japan, sent to work with a separate force for a bit to expand his horizon. He was outraged, yelling and standing tall and broad to pretend to be bigger than he was. 

You were doing paperwork, trying to concentrate despite his yelling and complaining and bitching. You were hovering above your seat with your legs crossed, papers scattered (it was a habit of yours, to just kind of hover a couple of inches off the surface of things; air manipulation and all that). 

“I said,” You turned to look into his ablaze eyes. “Sit down and wait. Not everything is about you.”

You only threw fuel into his fire, you could hear the sparking between his fingers. You turned back to your paperwork. 

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, you’re not even in the top five heroes.” Bakugou barked in your direction. You could feel his heat as he approached your desk. “You can sit and do your own paperwork all you want! I need to be put on serious cases, just like stupid Deku is always placed on.”

“You can argue with me all you want.” You moved to continue your work, pretending to be unbothered. You could feel the anger boil in your chest. “But you still are and will always be measly little number two. Now shut the fuck up, you’re interrupting those who are actually working.”

He was going to hit you, you knew he was. You two ended up fist fighting all the time, oxygen and explosions ending in destruction. Before he could, your boss walked in with a bellowing, “Bakugou! Get over here, I have something for your loud ass!”

You decided to give him a bored middle finger as he walked away.

They say that words are the way of life. You could say an infinite amount of words and sentences in your lifespan, you could say a word and only ever say it one time. Each assortment of words are different each time, something new every day. 

You figured that’s why you hated the soulmate thing. 

Finding your soulmate should be one of chance, of pure coincidence and meeting of strangers. With the journal, you are starting something you only hope to find. You could go your whole life without finding your soulmate.

And that is terrifying.

There are horror stories of writing to an endless notebook, sad movies created where the lettering turns back to red before they’ve found each other. You wanted nothing more than to meet and just… be with the man you’ve been writing to since you were thirteen.

It seemed to be some sick joke, a tease in the palm of your hands.

When you were young, you attended UA High. It was meant to be the best school for heroes, grooming them into the best of the best. Both of your parents had been heroes themselves, your mom with a cloud quirk and your dad with wings. You took after a bit of both, no wings and no clouds but could create air currents and manipulate the air surrounding you within a certain radius. It has something to do with your breath and lungs, but you never looked too much into the actual DNA aspect. 

When you arrived in the hero program, you passed the tests with ease. You tried to focus mainly on yourself and gaining your own points, alongside a couple of students with the same idea. 

You were pissed when you were placed in 1-B instead of 1-A. It was the start of your rivalry with the explosion boy. 

Luckily, you quickly gained friends. You actually seemed to have a soft spot for Hitoshi Shinsou, and you and Itsuka Kendou seemed to be the only two with brains (this led to many conversations resulting in shit talking and giggling). So in the end, you weren’t too upset to be placed in the second best class. 

And you did get to fight with Bakugou a lot more without punishment, your professor wanting to be number one as much as anyone else. 

One particular day that you remember to this day, one that really labeled your hatred for Bakuogu, was just a normal day at first. You were finished with your normal morning classes and just beginning the hero portion of the day, the training and fighting. 

Your class was working with Class 1-A for the day, teaming up with one of their students and seeing how your quirks would act both against and with each other.

You were, of course, teamed with Bakugou.

The fucker was already set in his ways, loud and in need of attention at all times. You were well aware of his… loud personality… at that point, being beside Shinsou when he called your class “extras”. He was already someone you wanted nothing to do with. 

“Good luck.” Kendou muttered to you when your names were announced as partners. “See ya.”

The second you headed to him, you could feel his apprehension. He wanted nothing to do with you. And you wanted nothing to do with him. In fact, you were hoping for Uraraka as your partner, wanting to see how your air manipulation would work with her gravity. 

Apparently the professors wanted to see the oxygen working with the burst of flames. Which, honestly, is cool yes — but it was the person behind the explosions that you did not want to be a part of.

Bakugou was not one to mumble under his breath. 

“Why am I paired with you?” He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. “I could at least be with someone interesting like Mind Control over there.”

You already wanted to punch him. “You’ve obviously never seen my quirk.”

“Clearly it hasn’t been interesting enough to be worth my attention.”

“Say that again when I remove the oxygen straight from your lungs.” You threatened, knowing damn well you didn’t know how to do that yet. “Let’s just get this over with.”

He let out a long exhale, moving into position. You were already flying by the time he let off his first explosion.

His utter disrespect for you and your quirk not only irritated you, but only was the start of a long term competition on Who Can Be Better Than Who that lasted the rest of your time at UA.

Through the constant loud arguments, the yelling in the cafeteria and the comments just loud enough for the other to hear, the fist fights and the swearing that was reserved only for each other, you found comfort in talking to your soulmate. It was relaxing after a long day of pure annoyance and shit talking to finally just get to have normal conversations with someone you enjoy. 

Are we allowed to ask about school in this thing?

I don’t think so.

I’m sighing. Pretend that you could hear my sigh.

Wow, that was a loud sigh.

YOU’RE FUNNY! Anyway, I really want to know if we go to school together :(((

I don’t even think we can talk about JRTPD or BO::SOMD. See, they turn into gibberish.

 I mean… we can say school. So we can ask ABOUT school just not… specific schools. 

That’s true. I go to a special school and am the best in my class. You’re getting lucky by having me as a soulmate.

Well I would only hope so. Need a smart soulmate for fun facts.

Fun fact: you’re pretty cool. I guess.

Ah, the admission of your love for me.

Not love. I don’t hate talking to you if that does anything for you.

The one person you don’t hate. I’ll take it, Soulmate.

Don’t push it.

We should give each other nicknames. Since we can’t call each other by our real names.

Does the book allow it?

My parents did it before they found each other.

Okay. Like what?

I can call you Hot Head, because you’re hot and because you are always writing about how mad you are.

No.

I can always go with something cute like Honey.

This is gross. I was thinking like gamer tag nicknames.

Okay, Honey.

I take back what I said, asshole.

Honey and Asshole. The perfect pair. We could solve crimes!

I’m going to bed now.

Goodnight Honey ♡ I know that you aren’t reading these but you will in the morning. Dork.

“Do you know who your soulmate is?” You asked.

You were hanging out with Kendou, Monoma, and Shinsou in Kendou’s bedroom. The dorm rooms were all set up the exact same way, but for some reason Kendou’s always seemed to be bigger. 

“No idea.” Monoma shrugged. “I don’t think I want to know until I’m older, we’re too young and I want to focus on graduating first.”

“He’s right.” Kendou twisted in her position on her bed. “Why? Do you want to know who yours is?”

“I want to know more than anything.” You sighed. Your head was laid across Shinsou’s lap on the floor. “We get along so well and I try to talk to him every day.”

“How do you know it’s a he?”

“He told me.” You laughed. “We tried really hard to narrow it down as much as possible.”

“It sounds like he wants to know you too.” Kendou said. She giggled. “I should ask my soulmate their gender.”

“What about you, Shinsou?”

“I barely write to mine.” He shrugged, making your head tilt a little. “I’m sure they understand.”

“I’m sure they do, they were made to be yours.” You looked up at him with a smile. “Of everyone, I thought you would write the most.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because most people are scared to talk to you in real life.”

He flicked your forehead. “You aren’t scared to talk to me.”

“I’m not scared to talk to anyone.”

“I’ve noticed.”

You sighed and closed your Soulmate Journal, the rain now casting a dark shadow across the entirety of the sky. Your face was flushed in red, hair disheveled and you were still in your hero uniform, dirty and kind of burnt. 

Katsuki Bakugou had not only interrupted your victory, but he had claimed it as his own. His desperation to be the number one hero hadn’t stopped. It’s been years, you’ve grown past his stupid desire and he simply… hasn’t.

You fought the villain yourself, using your quirk to it’s full capabilities and trapping them in a circle of air. You fought for over an hour by yourself, taking up the mission while out and witnessing it first hand. Your freshly bought coffee was long forgotten as you raced after the thief.

The second you landed the thief, the ball of air dissipating as you grew tired, Bakugou arrived in a fiery feat and handcuffed the villain. Of course, the main photos were of him with the handcuffs, standing proud as if he hadn’t stolen your fight. 

His argument was that he did help. Yeah, he did ‒ for three seconds.

Katsuki Bakugou was a piss stain upon himself, truly the worst of the worst who’s own personal interest outweighs anything else in his life. He will never be anything but second best because he never thinks of anyone but himself. 

If only he could read thoughts instead of turning his sweat to ignition. Then you wouldn’t have to put your harsh thoughts into tone.

Your Soulmate was one of two people you genuinely enjoyed talking to, he always seemed to be on the same page as you. The other is Shinsou, from your high school. He was the only one you really kept in contact with.

Sometimes you like to convince yourself that Shinsou is your soulmate, since he hasn’t found his either. But you compared the handwriting and it didn’t match at all. Shinsou’s handwriting was much smaller and neater than the man you would eventually call yours.

“This is so fucking stupid!” You screamed, your rage reaching its max.

You threw your journal across your bedroom, the storm masking the sound of it banging against the wall by your bed. You were pissed, you wanted nothing more than to see Bakugou’s downfall. It’s been years. You were over it.

You were over it all. You were over him, you were over not knowing your soulmate, you were over being alone in your stupid apartment. It all reached it’s apex. Maybe you needed a shower, or maybe you needed to move from your job.

Your fit was interrupted by a loud crash on the roof of your apartment building. You nearly jumped at the sound, the sound not even close to the crashes of thunder. 

You rushed to the roof, your hero senses kicking in more than your regular carefulness. Once you were outside, you were almost instantly drenched in the rain. Only a couple of yards ahead of you was a man crumbled to the ground; they must’ve hit the roof harder than you thought.

When they turned, clutching their side, you knew instantly who it was.

“Deku?” You rushed towards him. “I thought you were in Hirosaki for some serious villain.”

He moved to stand, much taller and broad than he was back in high school. Yet still with the fluffy green hair and bright eyes with hope always seemingly sewed in. 

“I was. I just… I need your help.”

“Why do you need my help?” You helped him stand fully, taking his hand from his side to check for an injury. He wasn’t bleeding. “Doesn’t Uraraka live around here?”

“I don’t… want to involve her in this.” He stood straight. His healing must’ve started. “I… this is something I need you for.”

“Okay…” You crossed your arms. “What do you need?”

“I know what you’re going to say.” Deku started, and you didn’t move. “But it’s Bakugou.”

“No.”

“C’mon, Aero, I know that you two…”

“No.”

“Please, I…”

“Deku, you know more than anyone how and who he is. Whatever it is, he can deal with it himself.” You started back towards the stairs. “I appreciate you coming to me, for whatever reason, but this is something that you have to find someone else for.”

“Don’t think of this as us doing something for him.” Deku rushed to stand in front of you. “Think of it as a favor for me. You owe me one.”

“Don’t do this now.” 

“I’m officially cashing in my favor.”

You sighed, “Fine. Can you at least tell me what we need to do for the asshole?”

“I’ll tell you on the way.” He nearly jumped in joy. “But you cannot tell anyone. Not Shinsou, not the police, and not our boss. This is under the radar.”

“Oh, shit.” You followed him as you flew next to him. “What are you getting me into?”

tag list: @katsulovee @paradisebabey @seaofemptygold @zhaixiaowen @daylghits @haikyuusimp91 @darknessyournewfriend @samwise-though @liaxxx109

[screwthat]

Dear Barbara,     It’s been a while since I wrote to you. I think about you all the time, so sometimes I still make up letters in my head, and I guess, to me, that feels good enough. It’s not like you’ll read these; they’re diary entries, anyway. And you’re dead. But it felt like a good idea to write today. Do something tangible. I’ve been thinking about your grave, recently. I think because we got this massive surge of rain last week, and I saw this, like, sort of miniature mud slide on the side of the road when I was driving to school. And I was wondering, how heavy would that rain have to be to dig down into your grave and bring you back up. Would you float out from the cemetery, end up in a coffin-boat right outside the general store on Main?

Probably not, obviously. But it’s been on my mind, just how to take care of you. And when I’m not there, who is? Are there flowers at your grave? Has anyone stopped by lately? To make sure you aren’t lonely. Or just to say hello, even just in passing. God, you should’ve seen Jason. He was so... angry, about Chrissy. I couldn’t help but remember spotting him laughing at some dumb joke about the “chemical spill” that everyone still thinks killed you. I know he didn’t realize I saw him, or that I heard. No one ever does. For a while they were mean, like, genuinely, actually cruel. But they stopped after we held your funeral. I always thought that was funny. They stopped making jokes in front of me, stopped asking me out on fake dates and talking about that stupid marquee. But they didn’t care, not really. It was just how they were supposed to act. How they were meant to be.

I’m sorry I haven’t been by lately. With the “earthquake”, with everything... I saw something, a while ago. I haven’t really talked about it too much, because, you know, it just feels like, with everything going on, it feels sort of stupid. It didn’t happen. But I saw it, and it felt real. It was like my old nightmares, the visceral kinds, but more... real, somehow. It’s brought them back, in part, but instead of just being of you, it’s everything. It’s Mike. Mom. Holly. Jon. I almost tried praying the other night, which felt dumb, you know? I used to cry when I prayed, every night. I’d wait until the last moment to go to bed, knowing I’d see you. Knowing you wouldn’t say anything. Knowing how I’d wake up again. And you wouldn’t. 

I had this enormous sense of guilt about surviving, and I still do. But I think I’ve changed some perspective, at least in part. I take the guilt and I let it sort of just build up like some sort of tension, like mentos in soda or something. And I use it differently. That’s helpful, now. It works in crisis, you know, but not really in, like, day to day. I’ve tried to fix it, or bury it, because I mean, what’s the possibility of actually avoiding that feeling? Realistically. I still see you in everything. Everywhere. And that triggers the guilt, and that turns into something else, like, this weird... twisting, gnawing sort of feeling.

I couldn’t tell you if that was smart, or good, or better than whatever it was I used to be. But I’m not sad, anymore. I’ve stopped crying. I don’t dread seeing you in my dreams, or even in my nightmares. They’ve become kind of... easy. That’s not the right word, I guess, but I suppose I’ve just become numb to that sort of fear. That paranoia used to be overwhelming. I still have that coffee machine under my bed, I guess just as a precaution now. Might need it soon again, all things considered. But I don’t want you to freak, you know. Things changed. I used to feel powerless, like the people I loved being taken, being hurt, being killed, like that was all inevitable. But I don’t think like that anymore. 

I hate the person I am now, but I think, since I lived, since I did survive, I had to become this girl. I’m not scared, Barb. I’m not powerless. I’m not a coward. Not anymore. These days, I’m angry.

Always yours, N.R.W.

[spencersmagic]

a knife twists at the thought - SR

Prompt: a knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark - Arctic Monkeys

Summary: Spencer is new to this, and the poor boy is terrified

Couple: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid (i picture season 2/3 Spencer but y’all do you)

Category: angst

Word count: 3086 words

Warnings: general criminal minds stuff, mentions and descriptions of torture, descriptions of loss, HAPPY ENDING!!, my 3am writing, tooth rotting love, uhmm spoilers for Orwell’s 1984 (if anybody hasn’t read it), humiliation, Spencer crying and breaking my heart (lmk if you need anything warned or trigger tagged).

A/N This is very loosely based on 2x15 (VERY LOOSELY). I’m quite proud of this one :)

masterlist // 505 series taglist

*****

They say you never see it coming.

When a tragedy occurs, and someone’s life is turned upside down forever, they never see it coming. It just... hits them. Like an oncoming car ramming into a bystander who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No one has time to prepare. In our time-starved lives, there is no place for such a warning.

One day, you just wake up. And they’re not next to you. They’ve disappeared, leaving the stickiest, most unforgettable parts of themselves behind for others to grieve to: the smell of their shampoo in the pillows they used to share, the seconds just as you wake when you still feel like you have them - only to gain full consciousness and realise they left you behind - even the fucking jars, which never seem to be open because he’s just not there to do it.

And you feel your heart breaking all over again as your soul sticks to the parts that couldn’t be erased with the rest of him as he left. Because you needed him, you had him, and now he’s gone. No warning, no letter, no signs which could’ve helped you foresee such a tragedy, because how could he? He didn’t disappear on purpose.

She doesn’t understand why he's so absent. So unequivocally missing. And the person she would turn to to ask these riddled questions isn’t there to answer. Because he’s gone.

But they’re not there yet.

And she feels so close to that feeling - the helplessness, the pain, the empty cups next to her bed because he always carried them to the sink when she was finished with her tea the mornings of those rare days they got to sleep in. Those days when they had time. She can practically touch, with the tip of her fingertips, the waves of pain that would surge over her if he was gone for one more fucking minute.

She has to remind herself, over and over again, like a mantra. He’s not gone yet.

The “yet” at the end of her mantra just breaks her all over again.

She was always the one to tell Spencer “if you worry before something happens, in case it goes wrong, and then it does, you’ve managed to suffer twice through something painful for absolutely no reason”. It usually worked. Needless to say, she felt like a hypocrite right about now.

Because Spencer is gone. And she doesn’t know how to bring him back.

She knows only to watch the monitor, never once blinking, taking in everything that happened in that damned livestream - every word, every sound, every reference. She can only try to hear anything over the whimpers and sobs her love was letting out as he’s tortured by that man. She can only hear the cracks of his knuckles against Spencers soft skin, the same soft skin she had kissed mere hours ago before telling him to “be careful”. Her own way of saying the three little words the couple was too young to hear. She can only see his lips parting, sobs rumbling out of his body as the unsub abuses his frame over and over again - same lips which had kissed her forehead before telling her “i always am”.

Then again, she isn’t sure if its his voice which is filling her head with painful sounds or if her mind is playing tricks on her, memorising the horrifying vibrations coming from his chest for her to ever consider anything else. She hasn’t stopped hearing him since she turned on that damned computer.

She isn’t sure she’ll ever stop hearing it.

**

As a man of great intellect, Spencer always recurred to knowledge to understand difficult occurrences in his life. Burying himself in textbooks, novels, poems, and even music to understand pain, and himself having a life filled with it, he was an incredibly knowledgeable man.

He knew much. But right now, he only knew one thing.

In Orwells’ 1984, as Winston was being tortured (much like Spencer is right now), Orwell described the following:

“Never, for any reason on earth, could you wish for an increase of pain. Of pain you could only wish one thing: that it should stop. Nothing in the world was so bad as physical pain. In the face of pain there are no heroes, no heroes”.

And, as a man who had acquired most of his intellect by immersing himself in trivial content in the face of pain, he found himself doing the same thing as the unsub hurt him over and over again, each blow seemingly more painful than the last. As his skin bruised, a causality of his abusers torment, he analysed the seemingly logical quote.

It must depend on the person, he was sure. In fact, a number of factors must be taken into consideration at this statement. For starters, Winston lives in a society incapable of any human feelings. There is only dominance, and those who attempt, in vain, to challenge it. Surely, if he had felt happiness, like the one you feel when the first day of spring rolls around, or like the one that creeps up on you as you look into the eyes of your loved one, surely, he would understand that some things can outweigh pain.

Love.

If Spencer’s mind could make sense of what he was feeling right now, he would understand, something he would figure of were he to leave this damned place, that he was thankful to the Gods, were there any, for having the unsub kidnap him and not Y/N.

Winston hadn’t understood emotional pain because emotions weren’t dealt with regularly. They were discouraged. That’s why he believed that there are no heroes in the face of pain. Because he doesn’t understand emotional pain.

He knew he was suffering. He also knew that Y/N was at the other side of the blinking camera suffering more than he could ever imagine.

**

They say emotional pain lasts 12 minutes. Anything one feels after this would be the aftermath of the cause of the pain in question. Pure emotional pain, the one you practically feel in your chest, the one that says “i can’t think, feel or be. not until this feeling dissipates”.

She had learned this from Spencer.

And she wished it were true. As she watched that damned monitor, she wished that all the venom the unsub was spewing at Spencer, all the verbal abuse, was long forgotten. She wished he could only feel the physical pain. Because the mind is incredibly stronger than the body - it could keep him awake, alive, for just enough time for the team to rescue him.

The entire team had huddled around the monitor around her. She was painfully aware that other people were seeing this. Which meant it wasn’t her imagination. It wasn’t another one of those damned dreams she would have when she slept a little too far away from Spencer’s touch.

They had only been together for two months, but his touch was all that could get her to fall asleep.

She jolted as the unsub landed another slap on Spencer’s cheek, swiftly grabbing his hair for him to look into the camera. He had a cut above his right cheek, just where she would kiss him in the mornings, and bruises all over his neck, jaw and left eye.

“Say hi to your team!” he mocked Spencer, chuckling darkly as he moved his almost lifeless body around for the team to watch in horror. Spencer let out a heartbreaking sob, feeling so vulnerable.

“Why don’t we make this interesting?” he jumped, as if he had gotten an idea. The unsub reached behind himself to grab a pistol, clicking off the magazine safety to put one bullet in one of the eight slots, leaving the other seven free. He pointed it at Spencer’s temple.

Her entire body shook the thought of seeing Spencer’s lifeless body, held up only by the ropes and that sick man’s grip around his curls. The same curls she grabbed as she kissed his face when she wanted his attention.

“I’m going to ask you some questions...” he said, voice dripping with sickening sweetness as he turned the roulette, “and if i don’t like your answer i’ll pull the trigger! Let God decide what I do with you. Sounds good?”. He wanted to humiliate Spencer.

However, Spencer made the mistake of not answering him. He was quickly reminded as the barrel of the gun pointed right between his eyes, pulling the trigger, a loud bang! sound expanding through the barn.

“I asked you a question!” he suddenly yelled into Spencer’s face.

“Y-yes, Sir” he whimpered, shaking at the ease at which the man pulled the trigger.

“Good, you’re learning”.

**

She experienced it by bits. Hotch’s hoarse voice. “Talk to me Garcia”. “We’ve got coordinates”. Everybody rushing to the SUVs. Tripping over her own feet on the way to the car. Morgan’s voice. The iPad, which still carried Spencer’s whimpers and the man mocking tone.

“I’ve got your diary, Spence” his sing-song voice didn’t match the disgusting man she was looking at. Nothing made sense.

“And I wanna know why...” he drew out the ‘y’ as he looked for something between the worn pages between his hands.

Of course she knew Spencer owned a diary. But she was mature enough to keep her hands to herself and her eyes on her own pages as he wrote on his, eyebrows creasing as he recalled all which he had experienced during the day. His face would twitch slightly at the memories, both good and bad, as he basically described his day word by word.

“...why did you wait until you were 24 to lose your virginity?” he asked in a clear attempt to humiliate and ridicule Spencer in front of his team.

“I-I didn't-” he could barely finish a word before a sob wrecking through his body at the humiliation, chest rumbling and voice wavering. “I didn’t want to lose it before, i w-wasn’t in a hurry” he rushed out. The man brought the pistol to his own chin, tapping it as he thought. “Hmm... I’m satisfied with your answer. Let’s dig deeper, shall we?” he asked as he went back into the pages.

“ooh! This one is new” that sick bastard was having fun with this, completely unaware that the team was less than 5 minutes away from their location.

“Care to read what you wrote three days ago? Right here” he turned the pages so Spencer could read them, though he was painfully aware of that entry he was talking about. His body shook violently. “P-please. D-don’t ma-make me do t-this” he whimpered, body feeling defeated.

“Wrong answer” the unsub said before pointing a gun at him and pulling the trigger.

A shriek was heard from the iPad. The SUV went silent.

“He’s alive” she whispered, unable to speak up. “He-” she swallowed. “He’s alive. We’re not there, yet” her mantra became a reminder that she hadn’t been quick enough to help him. She had the tools to save him. Every second she had the knowledge to save him and didn’t was another second she remained impotent at the risk of losing the love of her life.

Spencer’s voice spoke from the iPad.

“C-can you at-at leas-st turn off t-the ca-amera?” he said between sobs.

And it hit her.

What hurt him the most wasn’t the memories he had to relieve, but the fact that the rest of the team would have to hear his most intimate thoughts. His deepest secrets.

He could bare the pain. The humiliation? That broke him.

“Aww” the unsub chuckled mockingly, “are you embarrassed?” he said, slouching down to look into his eyes. “Well too fucking bad!” he screamed into his face, spitting with every word he spewed at him. Spencer’s sobs got louder.

“O-okay okay!” Spencer caved, accepting the journal that got shoved into his face.

“Read, pretty boy” the unsub sang. That son of a bitch was having fun.

“We’re two minutes away, Y/N” Hotch said. Maybe it was he sobs, which were barely audible to herself, having accepted them as second nature after all the heartbreak she was experiencing, but Hotch needed her to be okay.

His own heart thumped into his chest, feeling as helpless as he’d ever felt. Seeing a member of his team - someone he was supposed to take care of, someone he was supposed to keep safe - was sobbing as he was physically and emotionally tortured. But he was painfully aware of the feelings Y/N was experiencing. The sheer fear that was running down her veins at the idea of them running out of time.

After a few sobs, Spencer started reading, interrupting himself occasionally with his whimpers:

“It’s been three months. Today, three months, seven hours and forty-six minutes ago, she did what I didn’t have the courage to do. She asked me out. “I’ve been wanting to ask you pretty much since the day i met you” she had said. Those words keep ringing in my head like a beautifully written symphony, intrinsically designed to make me face my deepest fears. Opening my scars one by one, dissecting them and reaching the simple conclusion that i was a coward.

She didn’t say it, but what she meant was “i’ve been waiting for you to do it, but you never did, so i had to”. We wasted time - a time so precious and sacred - because i was a coward.

I’ve never felt like this before. I never understood a love so deep as to move something so stubborn as the human spirit. I’ve read textbook after textbook, and novel after novel, and still I’ve never learned more than with her. But I was a coward. And i wasted her time. I fear that I still am.

A knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark. It’s impossible for me to ever be enough for her”.

Her heart broke at this confession. Even worse at the thought that he wouldn’t’ve told her, instead inhaling fear and exhaling rejection at every breath he took next to her.

“We’re here” she heard Hotch, looking at her. She grabbed a bottle of water and dropped the iPad, not hearing the teams objections at the lack of vest and preparation and ran into the barn.

She isn’t sure if she’ll ever stop hearing his whimpers. As she runs closer, she hears them louder and louder, decorated with sobs and cries, and small, meaningless replies to his abusers’ mocking words.

She kicked the door down, the loud bang booming across the room, only helping in raising Spencer’s sobs as he feared the sound had been the result of a certain trigger being pulled. As she looks at him, she realises just how much pain he’s been put through.

She remembers Orwells words, much like how Spencer had remembered them mere hours ago. And disagrees, wishing over and over, praying to the Gods that she would be the victim of such atrocious abuse. She wished she could take his pain. Morgan joined her at her side mere seconds later, yelling. “FBI! Put the gun down!”.

Spencer used the last bit of energy to lunge forward, hitting the unsubs stomach with his head, successfully getting him on the floor for Morgan to apprehend. Y/N rushed to Spencer’s side, untying him, as his now nonexistent sobs grew louder and louder, not only at the prospect of getting out of that horrible place alive, but also at the knowledge that Y/N had heard what he had so dreadfully recited.

Spencer collapsed into her arms, crying into her in the same way she was crying into him, and she wondered just how to take away all his pain. So they cried into each other, desperately grasping each others hair, skin, clothes, anything that would make them feel like they wouldn’t have to spend another damned second without the company of each other.

Spencer was the first to break the silence.

“I need-” he stopped, coughing. She reached for the bottle of water she had brought with her because she knew he would need it. She always knew what he needed.

He chugged it desperately, stray drops falling down his chin at his eagerness. He took a deep breath trying to steady his lungs.

“I need to get out of here” he choked out.

She grabbed him under the shoulders, careful not to hurt him - not being successful, realising that there wasn’t much of him the man hadn’t hurt. Y/N pulled him out, sitting down on the grass with him. Their legs intertwined, pulling each other impossibly closer. They kissed, over and over again. Not as an act of any sexual relevance, but as a reminder that they had each other in any way, shape or form. That they weren’t out of time.

The team was certain they would stay there, never letting each other go for another minute.

After what felt like seconds in their time-starved little world, she broke the silence, which had only been filled with their own cries and occasional sobs.

“Spence” she grabbed his chin to look into his eyes. They were dull, red and hooded. He was exhausted. “Mhmm?” he let out, looking into hers. She was his solace.

“How could you ever think you were anything but completely and unequivocally enough?” she whispered the words he dreaded.

But as Spencer looked into her eyes he knew, better than he had ever known anything, that he was enough. And she was enough. He realised that which she had known for the past three months (possibly longer). They fit like two marvellous puzzle pieces.

Her hands grabbed his cheeks slowly, as to not hurt or startle him, pulling his forehead into hers. “Baby, I can’t imagine anybody else waking up to me every morning. You’re so much more than enough”, she planted a small kiss on his forehead before resuming her position. “I’ll remind you every day of the rest of my life if that’s what it takes for you to believe it”.

And with their eyes closed, foreheads and noses pressed together and legs tangled between each other, pulling each other close, closer - around grass and voices and his abuser pressed into the hood of a police car, they only felt each other. With their shaky breaths, even shakier voices, fearing any words that would leave them in case they triggered a cascade of tears down their oh so vulnerable cheeks, they were more than enough.

***

I hope y’all liked it!! Feel free to let me know by liking, reblogging, or sending me a message :) 

super cool kid taglist: @lady-anon-x​ @spencerreid-mgg​​ @eoupe​ @inlovewithbabygirl​ @galaxydefenderjulia​ @username2002​

[puredramione]

My 2020 Reading List - Dramione

This year, I’ve read way more dramione than I’ve ever read, and I’ve been reading it for 7 years now. I even read things, tropes, I had never bothered with before. 2020 may not have been a kind year, but in the dramione community it has been a wonderful year of reading for me. Please be aware I may spoil some plot lines to dramione fanfictions you haven’t read yet. I have tried not to as best as I can. But anyway below is 20 fics I’ve read this year that have been there for me when I needed them. No particular order. Just a lot of love for these fics.

Wait and Hope - by @mightbewriting - memory loss is one of my favourite tropes but this story. I have never cried over a couch before. But this story. From the moment she first awakes in St Mungo’s to that beautiful ending, I was hooked. I loved how the story left me with not really a care about whether or not Hermione got her memories back. Those bloody text messages 💔 a journey I’ll never forget.

The Unofficial Diary of an Omega - MrsRen - my first time reading anything omegaverse. It still isn’t my favourite trope. I much prefer Veela for some reason 🤷🏻‍♀️ but overall it was a good story, just not my thing.

Apple Pies and Other Amends by ToEatAPeach - I actually gave up on this story the first time I read it. Unsure as to why because the story as a whole is just amazing. Baking and dramione? Yes please! Also dealing with their psychological trauma after the war? Heck yes! The relationship in this story develops at a lovely pace. There were moments I was on edge, others I was smiling ear to ear whilst reading this. Definitely one of my favourites now.

In Search Of Sunrise - @indreamsink - actually just reread this and I still get that warm feeling in my chest. So turns out my break up hasn’t made me lose the ability to enjoy dramione falling for each other. Anyway, the story was so heartwarming, like if I were to describe it as anything I would describe it as a hug. The best non-date fic there is.

Sex and Occlumency - Graendoll - this was the start of my slippery slope into reading smut stories. Like I had read smut before, obviously but I didn’t pay it much attention, normally just swiped past 😂 but this one was a completely different story.

Manacled - @senlinyu - this is truly the most beautifully haunting story I’ve ever read. I remember when I first started reading it, I thought to myself, how the hell could I ever ship dramione in this world? Then those flashbacks. Fuck those flashback chapters were a punch in the gut. The way everything links and connects. I love it’s realistic ending. I often think of this story in the shower cause I had to force myself to go shower whilst I read this cause I honestly couldn’t put it down. And SPOILER, but I laughed so hard at a certain characters death even though I probably shouldn’t have but she was such a bitch. I get flashbacks myself of this story. I’ll be in the shower and I’ll remember a certain sentence, a certain scene in my head as if I truly walked with Hermione on this heart wrenching journey. But fuck manacled Harry, I hate that boy.

He Becomes by @abromaposts - I needed this story. This was the first thing I read after Manacled. Draco Malfoy looking after rabbits with the sole reason being to get close to Hermione, yes please. Rabbits are my favourite animals. It’s just so much fluff. And after Manacled I was grateful.

The Right Thing To Do - @lovesbitca8 - this was the bookshop, slow burn, fluffiness I needed in the summer. The start of a truly wonderful universe. Idiots in love, I’ve never went through so much second hand embarrassment. Every interaction between Hermione and Lucius was fantastic. Especially the final one! Every character was written to a way that I loved them so much. Plus this story makes you think (like the rest of the series) it doesn’t spoon fed you information.

All The Wrong Things - @lovesbitca8 - I never thought I’d be into first person POV. The last thing I read like that was The Hunger Games back in school, many years ago. But I truly felt as if Draco were telling me the story. I love how it filled in things we never seen in the first story. I love Draco’s characterisation. Unlike TRTTD, this feels more lighthearted. Could just be the horny Draco though and his dramatics?

The Auction - @lovesbitca8 - this story. where do I start? When I started reading this story I was in a completely different life. This story has seen me through a terrible time in my life. Honestly the last few chapters before the final chapter were a blur and I had to go and reread them cause my head was all over the place but the story. This story, on it’s own, I would say is better than any fiction I’ve ever read 🤷🏻‍♀️ it grips you, pulls you in. Every question you ask, you get answered with a ribbon and bow. I cannot express my love, for this story and for the hard work that has went into it. The characters in this world so vastly different yet similar to the ones we already learned to love. I could write a love letter to this story.

Hindsight by @floorcoaster - if you haven’t been following this year long, monthly updated story, then you’ve really missed out. Each chapter is a month of the year. The story starts with Hermione planning to trim down her calendar for the year ahead. Although it’s fiction it gave me a sense of hope for my future. I had started this year on a different note than Hermione, and I’m now ending it on a different note as well. I think this story does a good job of capturing the passage of time and just how quickly things can change. I also really love these adorable idiots in this story.

Bring Him To His Knees by @willhavetheirtrinkets (WIP) - the best co-worker, friends to lovers, fake relationship story I’ve read. No question. I sent @magicaltraveler3 a tearful voice memo after that last chapter that was posted (chapter 20). It isn’t the first time I’ve cried at a fanfic, but it is the first time that I predicted something bad would happen, but I didn’t expect the bad thing to be what it was. I can’t wait to see where this story goes. At this point I have completely forgot about the murder plot. I know it exists, and we’ll get back to the murder but I’d honestly read the characters in this story eating breakfast.

The Flat In Bath by @adaprix (WIP) - this was the first story I got into that ada has wrote. Instantly I was fascinated with the use of “flat” over “apartment”. Being Scottish I knew this was someone British. Anyway, a very interesting story and I can’t wait to see how the rest of it plays out.

Good by @lovesbitca8 - I am dying for the update of this story. As so many are, it is 🔥🔥🔥 all I can say. I can’t wait for the update!

The Erised Effect by @adaprix - When ada first told me she was thinking about writing a story about Pansy and Hermione working in a sex shop together. Telling me about having the idea of them meeting in the pub and how she “needed to get some filthy smut out of your system”. I didn’t think it would be my thing. Boy, did she prove me wrong!

The Cell by WrathOfMacy - I don’t know how I came to read this one. But damn, this was a good one (who am I kidding they’re all good ones). I’m still reading through it though. It’s a warfic in which Dramione end up locked in a cell together. The relationship builds nicely. I cannot wait to read more of it.

The Melody Of Touch by @magicaltraveler3 - I never knew I needed a dramione story like this story. I love that there is so much musical imagery incorporated into it. I haven’t read anything like it before. The story, the smut, the taxi and the freaking art work. It is everything!

Every Day, a Little Death by @lovesbitca8 - I’ll be honest with this one. I read the first chapter and the last chapter 🙈 BUT only cause everyone scared me so much. I plan to revisit. SPOILER. I may not care too much that Hermione cheated. Just me? Like yeah I hate cheating and she shouldn’t have done it, but like she admitted to it, and was very regretful for it. Anyway, the chapters I read were very interesting I look forward to revisiting it sometime.

Away by @indreamsink - written for the romcom fest and I got to say I think this one may be my favourite from the fest. Not only do you get dramione but you get the amazing side pairing of Harry/Pansy, which this year has really became my favourite side pairing. It’s like reading two love stories at once, I was interested in the dramione plot line obviously, but I was equally interested in the hansy/potts&pans plot line.

The Path Unexpected by @magicaltraveler3 - this story is a cute little domestic dramione fanfic. And I lived for it. It shows dramione going through the process of having a child and honestly, they’re so damn cute in this fic. The fanart is next level also!

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Gestures | Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Requested by anon / Summary: Elijah confesses his love for you in multiple ways, but you don’t believe it until he finally says those three words. 

A/N: I am so sorry it’s took so long to get this out! I’m slowly working through my requests I have, so I apologize if you are still waiting for yours!  I hope you enjoy xx 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

Confessing your love for someone is not always the three spoken words of I love you. There are simple gestures that can show that person you love them. However, sometimes the message gets lost in translation and that person only sees you as being kind, sweet, thoughtful. 

Elijah stood at the stove, an apron around his hips and a towel thrown over his shoulder, cooking your favorite meal. He’d remembered a conversation you two had a long time ago and you’d told him your favorite meal, so he decided to surprise you when you came back from shopping with Rebekah. 

The two of you’d met in the French Quarter and hit it off as friends. You’d come to meet Rebekah and became a good friend to her as well. They both enjoyed your company, but Elijah’s fondness for you grew. He began to see you more than a friend, but as someone he could love. He’d never been good with his words and decided actions were the best confession. So, he made himself a list of the things he could do to show his love for you. First was cooking your favorite meal. 

“Something smells delicious!” You comment as you enter the kitchen, arms full of shopping bags. Rebekah follows you with the same amount of bags. Setting them down in the floor you come to Elijah’s side, “Is that my favorite?” You ask with a smile. 

“I thought you’d enjoy it after a day of shopping with my dear sister.” He gathers a small amount on the spoon, making sure to blow on it first to cool it down, “Careful darling, it might be hot.”

You hum in content as you taste it, “Elijah, this tastes amazing! Just like how my family made it.” 

He’d never tell his secret, but he’d called your family and took detailed notes on how to cook it perfectly like they do. “Good, i’m glad. It should be ready any minute now.” 

You and Rebekah decide to freshen up before dinner and on your way up the stairs you ask her, “Did you tell him about my favorite dinner?” 

“I didn’t even know what your favorite dinner was.” She laughs. 

You frown and continue up the stairs. You hadn’t mentioned that it was your favorite recently.. You wrack your brain wondering when you would have told him and then it hits you. You told him the very first day the two of you met almost a year ago and he’d remembered. 

~ 

The second thing on his list was show interest in your interests such as your favorite music. It wasn’t his cup of tea, but he listened to it. The two of you were currently in the car on your way into town for a late lunch. 

“Shall we play some music?” He asks as he turns on the radio. 

You groan, “Please Elijah, none of that stuff you listen too.” 

He chuckles, “None of that today...” He hits play and your favorite artist fills the speakers. 

“Oh my god! This is my favorite artist!” 

He smiles at your excitement, “it’s actually not that bad.” 

You gently hit his arm, “I told you just to give them a chance!” You’d been telling him for weeks to just listen to some of their songs and that he’d like them. 

The two of you sang, well more Elijah watched you with adoration as you belted out the lyrics. He almost told you he loved you then, but he wasn’t great with his words. 

~ 

The third thing on his list was writing love letters among other gifts. However, his love letters weren’t love letters at all. He woke up every Monday morning before you left for work to grab your favorite flowers and would write a small note attached, Good morning beautiful. Have a great day at work. xo -E 

He’d leave the flowers on your doorstep so when you’d leave for work they’d be there waiting for you. Monday’s were always the worst, but when you’d find those flowers on your doorstep it made your Monday’s even better. It left you looking forward to Monday’s. He almost wrote that he loved you on the note one morning but decided in person would be better. 

~ 

Elijah turned on the record player and soft music filled the living room. “Care to dance?” He asks as he holds his hand out to you. 

You laughed, giving a small curtsy, “Why I would love too.” You took his hand in yours and he pulled you into his chest. 

The two of you swayed softly to the music.

“y/n..” 

You pulled away from his chest to look up at him and your stomach filled with butterflies. This was it, the moment you’ve been waiting for. You weren’t blind, you knew now that these small gestures were his way of confessing his love. At least you hoped that was what they were. Would friends really buy flowers and leave a note every Monday morning just because they know you hate Monday’s? 

But you wanted to hear those words from him. 

“Yes?” You breath out. 

“I..I-” He gulps, the words are stuck in his throat. He shakes his head and clears his throat, “Nothing.. It’s just late. I know you have work tomorrow.” 

To say you were disappointed was an understatement. He wanted to tell you and he almost did, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. You felt yourself become frustrated, “yeah you’re probably right.” You harshly pull away from him and snatch up your things from the couch. 

“Is something wrong? Did I say something to upset you?” He frowns at your change of attitude and turns off the music. 

“It’s what you won’t say.” You can’t help the tears that fill your eyes. You wanted him to say it. You’d learned from the past that when a girl says I love you first, it scares the boy off or it turns out you read into it wrong and it wasn’t love, so you’re left in embarrassment. Your eyes meet his and then you rush out the door only to be greeted with a downpour of rain. 

Elijah uses his vampire speed to run to you, stopping you in your tracks, “Y/n please.”

“Just let me leave Elijah.” You try to put your bag over your head to shield you from the rain, but it’s no use, you’re already soaked so you let your bag drop back at your sides. 

“I’m not very good at my words. I thought the gestures.. I thought they would be enough!” 

“Well, they aren’t! I know you feel it when we are together. Tell me I’m not imagining things, that i’m not hallucinating that you love me!” 

“I-I..” Again the words are caught in his throat. 

You shake your head and push passed him. He knows it’s now or never. He must confess or he may lose you. 

“I love you!” He yells out after you, finally able to get the words out. 

You stop and slowly turn around to face him as the rain continues to drench everything around you. 

“I love you,” He breaths out once more, “I could never get the words out. I was a coward and thought the gestures would be enough to show you that I love you,” he shakes his head, “You deserve much better than me, better than what I can give you.”

“Elijah, you’re more than what I deserve. You’re everything I’ve always wanted in a man.” You take a few steps closer to him and you’re standing within touching distance. Your hand reaches out to cup his cheek, “I love you, too.” 

One hand covers yours and he uses the other to wrap around your waist, pulling you to him, capturing your lips with his.

Your arms move up around his neck and he moves his other hand to your hair, leaving the other on your lower back. There’s not an inch of space between the two of you as he whispers, “I love you,” against your lips. 

The two of you stand in the downpour of the rain kissing as if there is no tomorrow. There was nothing left standing in his way of getting you and the happiness he deserved. He finally had confessed those three words and now there was no stopping him from continuing to say them any moment he got. 

Comments, reblogs, and likes are greatly appreciated! <3

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[theji]

Things Yizhan Made Me Do

It's BXG Day today! 🐢💛

To commemorate the occasion, I thought of making a list of 13 out-of-character things that I've done since falling into the fandom. (OK I'm a bit late I meant to do this sooner, the day is ending soon in a couple of hours).

1. Start a blog

And a public one, no less. I had a blog when I was in my teens but that was private, like a personal diary. My day job already involves writing so off-work I would usually like to indulge in mindless activities. Now, here I am, maintaining a Yizhan blog. I have not even used Tumblr prior to this but I'm enjoying it now, rambling about our fav boys. Writing is not a chore if it's about them.

2. Join a fandom

I joined a boy band fan club once upon a time, some 15 years ago, but I was never as invested in it as I am now with Yizhan. Back then it was just buying some merch, attending their concert/autograph sessions, listening to their songs. Apart from work, dog mum duties, personal relationships, other hobbies like kombucha brewing, most of my free time is now spent on the fandom. My Netflix account is crying. There is just so much to do and catch up on (I'm not complaining). I also enjoy interacting with and learning from other bloggers here. Antis are no fun and some industry news/developments/hate messages are upsetting but ultimately, you curate your own fandom experience. And I choose positivity and rationality.

3. Indulge in RPS

I don't ever 'ship'. What is 'ship'? 😆 I was always a dutiful audience, just enjoying whatever drama series and moving on after that. I started with CQL like most people and I didn't even notice/like GGDD until much later. Didn't even set out to 'ship' anyone but now I'm a self-professed turtle. SZD is SZD, and anyone can see something special between them if you keep an open mind. I wrote about my SZD reasons here previously. That said, GG & DD are individuals, each with their own successful careers. They come first, the ship comes second. That I'm very clear of.

4. Use Chinese apps

Gosh, my phone and tablet are now full of Chinese apps. I used to have only WeChat cos I needed it for work but now I have Weibo, Oasis, Douyin, WeTV, MangoTV, Youku, etc. Some of them are not even available in the app store so I had to find alternative sources to download them. haha..I even have paid membership for some of these apps. And now, browsing Weibo daily becomes a routine. If you wish, you can just get stuck browsing Weibo for a long long time. It's entertaining.

5. Read fan fic

I only started about 6 months ago but now I'm hooked and fics are largely the only thing I read these days, apart from news. But I only read Yizhan or WangXian fics (p.s. calling for fic recs of other pairings!) I know some might have different feelings about fan fics but to me, I really just see them as fiction, with characters (and sometimes traits) bearing similarities to GGDD. Similarly, I separate the platform from the incident so I have no problems going to A03 despite GG's incident. I just enjoy seeing the characters named XZ/WYB having happy endings in many different timelines and universes. While most of the fics I read are explicit (by design), I don't use them as tools to play out certain fantasies or to think of GGDD in a sexual manner. In fact, I really hate fics that have little substance and just go into the explicit parts without plot development. I like those with interesting premises too, like one I read recently where XZ is a serial killer and WYB is a police officer investigating the case but also in love with him. I do have plans to share my list of fav fan fics some time down the road so keep an eye out for it!

6. Willingly read Chinese

Yes, Chinese may be my mother tongue but I don't use it much in daily living unless I have to. I also find it tedious to read Chinese cos the characters are just so squashed together. If I have a choice, I will always pick English. But now, I read so much Chinese from my daily weibo browsing. I even read fan fics in Chinese! Who am I? On the plus side, I think my Chinese comprehension and translation skills improved. I also picked up some internet lingo used by Chinese netizens, which are pretty interesting like doi, 🐮🍺, 🖍. My all-time fav is yyds.

7. Act like a cougar

In real life, I have always maintained that younger men are childish. At least those I have encountered. But look at me now, fangirling over two younger men (I am closer in age to GG, but still..). I even jokingly call them my 'China Boyfriends'. I look at them very respectfully most of the time.

8. Buy merch

Seriously, once you start, you can't stop. At least that was what happened to me, although I'm still quite selective when it comes to supporting their endorsements. I usually go for consumables like food, cosmetics vs collectibles cos I'm more practical. Also, GG says to support their merch within reasonable means so that's what I'm doing. Just buying things that I'm interested to try and not because it has their faces or names slapped on it. In a way, this suits me cos I like trying new brands and stuff anyway.

9. Keeping a Yizhan archive

Photos, weblinks, videos, songs, fan fics list..my phone is full of these things now. I think my Yizhan photo gallery is only second to the folder with my dogs' pictures. But how can you resist when we are blessed with new pics of them almost every week?

10. Camp for livestreams

I'm lucky I live in the same time zone as the boys so I don't have to wake up in the wee hours of the morning just to watch something. But that's the thing, being in the same time zone sometimes make me feel like I HAVE to watch that thing live because, why not? Why wait? Not shy to admit that I once watched a live programme in the middle of work but I made sure I finished what needed to be done. I think so long as we don't let these livestream schedules run our lives, there's no harm in camping for them.

11. Watch c entertainment

I am one of those who used to pass over Chinese productions, simply because it's a Chinese production. Not in a scoffing manner but I'm just genuinely not interested in them nor the celebs. I was more of a US/UK production kind of person, occasionally Korean/Japanese. Now, I'm learning to enjoy them although I just watch those with GGDD in them. No energy to follow other Chinese celebs anyway. The other programme I'm contemplating watching even if it doesn't have them in it is Who's the Murderer (GG was only in one of the cases) cos I like the premise. On the flip side, now my sis and partner keep making fun of me cos to them, all I do now is "watch China shows". That is so not true. Or is it?

12. Write fan mail

I wrote a letter to GG once. A long-ass letter. I hope he read it. That's all I'm gonna say. 🙈 hahahahaha

13. Desire to visit China

China was never on my list of to-visit places. Just wasn't interested. I have been to Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou a few times in the past for work but even then, I never felt the urge to revisit for leisure. Now, I wanna visit GG and DD's home town, visit Chongqing to see the graffiti wall with Bobii Zanbii on it, eat mala hotpot and try out their sauce recipe, attend BXG events, dine at the CQL restaurant... Watching TTXS also made me realise that there are many beautiful places in China with natural landscapes and all that. I used to be clouded by my disdain for the regime and some behaviour of its citizens but now, I recognise that the country is separate from the regime or a smaller group of poorly behaved citizens. China is a beautiful country and I would love to visit some day. I will fly over immediately on my own if someone gives me tix to ADLAD!!

Well, I hope some of these things resonate with you. Feel free to share the OOC things that Yizhan made you do.

Once again, Happy BXG Day! 🐢💛🐆🐇🐷🌶🦁🍑🐶🍍🛹🎋

[missdawnandherdusk]

Little Things

Draco X Reader

Request: @deanwswinchester79 But I thought of an idea that maybe the readers parents never write to her while she’s at Hogwarts, Draco notices and eventually gets her a simple gift so she doesn’t feel so lonely. She doesn’t react quite so well but over time it started to become a little tradition of theirs because they’ve come to like each other.

A/n: Thank you for such a wonderful request!! Sorry this took so long, I had most of it written with no idea how to end it, but I figured that out! think I’m gonna make the reader a Slytherin just for the proximity and convenience. Let me know what y’all think as always~ (Also it seems that my posts haven’t been circulating in the explore page... so more than ever, please if y’all love my work reblog it. Tumblr sucks and I’d hate to have to leave...)

Being pure bloods and Slytherin, it’s not uncommon that you and Draco are near each other a lot, even before Hogwarts.

Unlike his own parents who would give him anything at the mere mention, your parents never batted an eyelash at you

They spent their wealth on themselves and expected you to sit still and look pretty. The perfect compliant child.

Sure you had everything you needed, and asked for... but you had to bluntly ask for it... there was never anything thoughtful or decent

So, you never get letters from your parents while you’re at Hogwarts

Or gifts, or packages... you write letters and send them off, but never get a response. You don’t even know if your parents get them.

So... maybe it’s a few years before Draco notices and cares.

It’s only because he happened to be sitting next to you one morning as mail came in, a flurry of owls, letters and parcels. And you don’t even bother to look up. Your eyes are trained on your breakfast, your face stoic

“Here,” Draco shoves a covered tin of treacle tarts your way. “My parents sent me these. I don’t even like them,” he scoffs, trying to play off what he’s doing.

You eye him, in disbelief and stand abruptly. “Be grateful they send you things,” you snarl and storm out of the Hall, spending the rest of the day in your room, writing a letter you never send.

Maybe after writing the letter you never send about how you feel makes you realize you were a bit rude to Draco

So you apologize when you see him next.

It’s later that night when you two are the only third years left in the Common Room. Maybe you were a bit of a coward and waited until he was alone

He reaches into his bag and offers you the same tin. “I meant it. I really don’t like sweets,”

You can’t help but laugh as you accept his small gift.

Sitting beside him on the couch, you stare at the tin in your hands.

“You can eat them,” he teased. “They’re not poisoned.” He says it so earnestly, you laugh again.

You mumble another thanks before you stand abruptly and head back to your room, leaving Draco a bit confused. He shrugs and goes back to his potions homework.

“Mother, Draco gave me some treacle tarts today. They’re from his parents. I think he noticed that you never write back. Of course it’s been three years. But at least someone noticed. If that’s what this was...”

It’s a few days later during breakfast that you get a letter. You’re shocked because it’s the first time it’s ever happened and your owl is fluttering happily on your shoulder.

It’s not signed, and you have no idea who it’s from, but it holds kind words and encouragement. It’s such delicate and immaculate script, you’ve got no idea where to start looking for the author.

So maybe you don’t. But you keep the letter and write a response. Again, it’s never sent, but it makes you smile and not feel depressed afterwards. Which is new.

Draco would never forget the innocent smile on your face as you opened the letter he had sent anonymously. You didn’t seem to notice his stare, so entraputed in the bit of parchment.

He sent you a letter maybe a few times a months. It was the most mundane things. How he liked the weather. His worries for the next exam. How you handled yourself well in Transfiguration.

He never knew you reponded to each one. And kept those letters in a fabric box under your bed. Or how every night when you were feeling depressed you’d take them out and read them. And that they made you feel better.

You knew your secret author went to school with you, and was in close proximity but that was about all you knew. Sometimes you wondered who it was writing to you. Sometimes you were just content with having a letter to hold.

“I don’t really know who you are, but I’d like to know I think. At least to thank you for making me happy, even for a short while with your letters,”

You leave that letter on your desk, not thinking to tuck it back into its box. Which is your first mistake

Your owl, seeing the letter on your desk, delivers it, knowing who your secret author is.

Draco grips the letter so tightly that the paper almost tears. Your owl preens herself on his sill. “You know,” he accuses. “Did you tell her?” Like he expects a response from the bird.

It’s Christmas, and your mystery writer sends you a parcel this time with a note: “haven’t you figured it out?” In the parcel is a tin of treacle tarts.

You freeze before your gaze turns to Draco, who’s watching you intently.

You run through a lot of emotions. Anger, confusion, gratitude, hesitation, joy... it’s all so overwhelming that tears sting your eyes and you practically run from the Great Hall, leaning against a random hallway wall and start to cry at the absolute ridiculousness of it all

Draco Malfoy was sending you letters

Really sweet letters that were thoughtful and kind and honest and nothing like you’d ever seen from him before

The there was the tin of sweets sitting in your lap. Looking at them made you cry all over again

Draco, on the other hand is very confused and rushes after you against his better judgment.

“Look I’m sorry if—” he starts but you cut him off by laughing.

“Merlin, don’t apologize,” you sniffle, standing. “Thank you,” you throw your arms around him, and pull him close, showing your gratitude. He eventually figures out that it’s a hug and hugs you back.

“You really don’t mind?” He asked, hesitant. “Because I... I know it’s stupid. But you never get anything and I know what it like to be ignored by your parents and I just thought—”

“Draco,” you call his attention, finding it sweet that he rambles when he’s nervous. “I don’t mind in the slightest. And it’s not stupid. It’s the kindest thing anyone has done for me,”

Draco fidgets and blushes slightly, looking at the ground.

“I will admit, I’m surprised it’s you,” you mused softly, catching Dracos attention and the hurt on his face. “Only because you’re... I don’t know.” You smile and shrug. “I feel like no one knows that—this part of you,”

“And what part of me is that?” He scoffs, trying to play it off.

“The sweet caring one,” you smile. “Who doesn’t mind sharing his sweets with a girl even though she knows he’s the first to eat dessert every meal,” you raise an eyebrow at him.

Draco goes a deeper shade of red because you’ve caught him in his lie. He starts to apologize again, but you stop him

Later that night you look at all of the letters he wrote you and that you wrote back. And the night before Christmas when everyone else was asleep, you spent the entire night working the letters into a book with magic

You give it to Draco Christmas morning, and though it’s lost in the pile of gifts from his parents, you’re happy (even if your parents didn’t bother to send you anything. You had a few gifts from your friends and you were okay with that)

Draco doesn’t pay much mind to the book until later that night, when he’s alone and can go through it in private. He’s surprised to see that you answered every letter you’ve written him. And he’s sort of in awe. He never knew that they meant that much to you

He thinks of you and your smile and how you’ve poured your heart out into these letters the same way he has and he never thought anyone would open up to him like that

Slytherins had a reputation to uphold—you both knew that, so the fact that both of you had this little secret made things a bit better

You see each other the next day and he thanks you for the gift and it’s a bit awkward, but in a nice way

Draco still sends you letters but now he signs them and they get a bit ridiculous that they make you laugh

“Did you see how Snape tripped over his robes today?” “You’ll never guess what Blaise did today...” “Greg actually asked me if the sky was blue because it’s not blue at night,”

They’re so endearing and making you giggle to yourself. You always catch Draco’s eye from across the hall and he raises an eyebrow at you, daring you to say something

Your friends of course want to know who’s making you laugh with their letters and you try so hard to not let your secret slip because you don’t think Draco would want anyone to know

And you’re afraid if others do know, he’ll stop writing to you. Letting his pride and ego get the better of him.

Draco wonders if you’re embarrassed to be talking to him so he never reveals your secret either but your both a bit frustrated at the other because of this dance you’re going through

He still writes to you over the summer and they’re more diary entries than they are letters but you still love them and respond when you can your parents might get suspicious and you don’t want to lose your penpal

You totally sneak into his families box during the Quidditch World Cup and your parents didn’t notice because they never do and you have the best time with Draco, both rooting for different teams

“You just like them because of Krum,” Draco accuses.

“Do not!” You argue back. “And besides he’s a great player anyway!”

Draco grumbles “I could do better,” and you have to laugh at him and he smiles at you

He grabs your hand and you both run as the Dark Mark is sent out over the match and Draco pulls you out of the chaos to where it was safe and you wait out the attack. He holds you protectively as you shake with fear against your will

Neither of you mention it. But at night you remember the feel of his arms and he remembers your warmth as you both curl around pillows wishing it was the other

Fourth year means the Durmstang students are rooming with the Slytherins and you get to share some of your classes with Krum and you might just explode with awe

Draco is jealous and hell hath no fury

Now Draco starts to send you ridiculous little gifts and notes almost weekly

Your friends (and most of the school) are now interested in this secret admirer of yours and you huff and you’re more annoyed at Draco than anything because he was being well, ridiculous

You grab Draco one day and confront him because he just sent you a bouquet of sunflowers

“What the hell?” You demand. “You said you liked sunflowers in Herbology,” Draco shrugged. You growl and storm away.

Now he’s sending you notes in class when you’re with Victor who doesn’t even sit next to you

At that point the secret is out on who your secret admirer is and now Victor won’t even talk to you because of Draco’s behavior.

You’re livid to say the least.

You stop talking to Draco altogether and become indifferent. You almost tell him to stop sending you things because you don’t want them, but you don’t.

It’s not that you don’t want the gifts and the kind gestures you just know it’s coming from the wrong place and it doesn’t sit right with you.

“What is wrong with you?” Draco demands one day.

“Wrong with me!?” You snap back. “What is wrong with you!? Seriously Draco! I’m not some shiny toy you can show off!! I’m not something you can claim either! So stop trying!”

“Who said that I was—”

You give him a sharp dangerous look and he shuts up.

You storm away again, tears in your eyes because it’s not how you wanted things to go.

It felt like you were walking away from your best friend and you knew you couldn’t fix it. And maybe that’s what it was like.

You almost run into Krum and fall down, but he catches you. Concern grows when he sees you crying. His concern for you just makes you cry more as your run back to your dorm room, not caring about the whispers around you as you lock your door and sob.

There’s a knock on your door and you have a good idea of who it is, but you don’t really want to talk to him right now

And Draco knows that. Sure, it took you to confront him about what he was doing, but you were right, you weren’t some toy to fight over

He sat against the other side of the door, mimicking your curled up position

“...I’m sorry,” You hear through the door. “You’re right. I... you’re not... I’m sorry...” 

When you finally have the courage to open the door, he’s gone

You close the door again and flop on your bed, screaming into a pillow

You may or may not fall asleep there... 

in the morning there’s a letter sitting on your window sill

Knowing who it’s from, you curl up in your covers with the letter and open it

Draco had spent about two hours thinking of how to make things right again, to prove how sorry he was... and so he poured out his entire heart to you in a letter

it was messy, scratched out, sappy, and heart felt, and apologetic and vulnerable and a beautiful mess that you couldn’t help but read again, and again, and again until you let a few tears slip out

You quickly get dressed for the day and rush into the Great Hall, seeing Draco sulking at the breakfast table, until he sees you, then his eyes go wide with panic and fear

It takes everything in you to remain composed and not run down the line of tables, but you manage

He stands to meet you and you smile, grabbing his robe and pulling him close, pressing your lips to his

“But... I... and you...” Draco fumbles, pulling away. 

“I might not want to be owned,” You grin, pulling out his letter, “But I’ll belong to this Draco any day,” 

“Deal,” He grins, and cups your face, kissing you again

.

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[admiringlove]

IX: aparecium; an incantation to always remember.

— you finally read all the other pages of his diary.

+pairing: miya atsumu x reader.

+genre: crossover(hq x hp); fluff; angst; frenemies to lovers.

+word count: 2.9k.

+warnings: FLUFF!! pls, if i don’t put fluff, some of my moots would cry(*cough* ray).

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+author’s notes: this is the last chapter(im def not sad) BUT i will be writing bonus parts!!

+navigation: previous, masterlist,.

You stand in front of your apartment, sighing as you close your eyes, making your way inside your bedroom and begin to pick up the cardboard boxes with the help of your wand, moving them outside into the living room for someone(who is quite late, yet again) to take to your new home.

You tie your hair up, fixing your overcoat a little as you sigh, making your way to the smallest box, placed in the corner of the room. Just by looking at the stamp on top of it, you smile. 

The memories of your time at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

You carefully sit on your knees, your plaid skirt riding up just a smidge, as you open the carton in front of you. 

To say that it was filled up completely was an understatement because right now, a few books and photographs fell out onto your lap, making you chuckle. You picked up the photographs, settling with your back against the wall and your legs stretching out, as you looked through them one by one. 

The first one—one of your graduation ceremony, standing next to Shimizu Kiyoko(the current owner of the most popular Quidditch shop in London) who was beaming vividly at the camera with you, holding up your wands as a gesture that you had finally done it. Something that seemed almost insurmountable when you first started school, and now? You all were content, happy with your lives. 

The second photograph was one from the third year, your first time in Hogsmeade. You were in The Three Broomsticks, and a mustache of the froth from the butterbeer had formed atop your lips. Behind you, a certain fox pointed and laughed his guts out. 

The next picture was from the Shrieking Shack—where all of your friends had ditched the second last day of school and spent the whole day drinking and reminiscing the past seven years of nostalgic happiness. A boy held your hand with the fondest look in his carob orbs, and you returned it. 

You gingerly took the three photos, storing them in the photo album that had also fallen out of the box in the process of you opening it. Smiling, you took out some more mementos. 

Your broomstick, the Nimbus 2001, sat at the bottom, but you excitedly removed it and placed it on the ground, saying, "Up!"

It almost made it to your hand but fell down upon grazing your fingertips. You pouted, blaming the number of years it had passed since you had played Quidditch. Peering into the box as you placed the broomstick aside, you found something even funnier. 

Cheap, piss colored hair-dye that was almost ten-years-old. 

You chuckled, looking at it playfully as you opened the top of the bottle. The disgusting odor that came from it made you grunt as you immediately placed the cap back on top, never desiring to touch that thing ever again. And once more, you placed the item in your hand to the side, looking into the box to find more things that reminded you of your happiest years. 

You couldn't believe your eyes at what sat at the bottom of the carton. 

An empty notebook with a soft leather cover, with a grey quill by its side, sitting there and ridiculing you. 

You blinked twice, making sure what you were seeing was real. Hell, you even rubbed your eyes until you could see mindless patterns in the dark. You opened your eyes, the patterns making themselves sort of visible in plain sight, disappearing after a few milliseconds when you grabbed the brown book in front of you and whispered with your wand in hand, "Aparecium."

September 2, 20**.

I don’t know what I’m doing at this point. It’s been 3 years since I started loving her.  When I saw her walk into the train today, umm, yesterday cause it’s past 2 AM now… I felt so happy?? I mean, I know I tease her and all, she’s quite amazing. She’s got the brains for it all and insults me back even when I say something stupid.  I really dunno. 3 years and I’ve made 0 progress. I seriously need to re-think my decision about my love for this girl 'cause 'Samu says there’s no chance she loves me back. Dunno if I’ll be able to stop my feelings, though. I’ve liked her since my second year. Damn me, for being such a lovesick puppy.  And to think I colored my hair for her too. [Y/N] called it piss-colored. Out of all things, why the fuck would ya compare somebody’s hair to piss? That’s utterly disgusting. I wonder where [L/N] gets these dumb ideas. Damn her, that slug. Anyways, I have class in a couple hours. G'night. 

'Tsumu. 

You immediately let out a hearty laugh, flipping to the next page when you remembered a certain encounter with the boy who wrote the diary. The day he told you he loved you, by the infamous Black Lake, he spoke of this particular page. He said that he addressed the nightly trips around Hogwarts, about how much he longs to be yours, about his happiness when he sees you, and your snarky comments that are just as, if not more, witty than his. 

September 4, 20**

Today was the third day of school. Also my first trip around Hogwarts with [Y/N] under my invisibility cloak. We snuck into the kitchens and got ourselves steak pies and treacle tarts, and then went to the Astronomy Tower where we ate them while laughing about nothing in particular. I love these little trips. They make me all warm and fuzzy inside. Dunno how to put it into words, but I really like spending time with her alone. It makes me really really really happy. I wish that someday, maybe when I'm all grown up and play for a known Quidditch Team and she's a DADA professor, we are still like this. Going around to aimless places, eating food, and laughing about the old times(or anything really, I just want to be with her even when I'm older). And just like always, she doesn't fail to throw dumb comebacks at me. I can't help but chuckle at them, because sometimes they really are offensive. Well, looks like it's time to hit the hay now, so g'night. 

'Tsumu.

You gasp as the page comes to an end, a hand on your mouth. He wasn't wrong when he said he wrote about you. You smile as a tear runs down your cheek as you flip to a random page this time, and you realize that it's written in his sixth year of Hogwarts. 

December 23, 20**

I stayed back for Christmas break this year and my dorm is all empty. So is hers, because she says she didn't want to go back home at all until the summer. I feel bad for her gran, that woman must feel lonely. 

You giggled at the line, grinning because you remember your grandma sending you a Howler, which yelled at you in the empty dorm-room for not coming home for the holidays. She said she missed you, and that your grandfather's health was deteriorating. She had also said that she knew why you didn't come back, and that it was okay, because she understood that you couldn't see another loved one go. The Howler ended on a sorrowful note, but everything eased back into its place because you remember the writer of the diary in your hands being there to comfort you when a dreaded letter came in after the holidays. You continued reading where you left off, wiping away the new wave of tears that had emerged from the memories.

Yesterday, me and [Y/N] went around the castle under the invisibility cloak I gave her. It was fun because I always get to see this little smile on her face that only shows up during these trips. We also went to the forbidden section of the library just because we wanted to look at a few spells that are probably illegal. I did accidentally kill a rat practicing the second unforgivable curse, and [Y/N] helped me hide all the evidence by feeding the dead rat to the Hippogriff she had found in the Forbidden Forest. I swear, if someone saw the way I did the spell and couldn't stop until [Y/N] threw Expelliarmus at me, they would throw me in the deepest pin in Azkaban and I'd probably never be able to see [Y/N] again. Anyway, I have to go back out for dinner now. G'night.

'Tsumu.

You, again, laughed at the man's childishness. You recollect distinctly how scared he was, that he had almost pissed his pants in the Courtyard that night. You had assured him that nothing would go wrong and that your lips were completely sealed, because he was your friend of course, so you had quickly formulated a plan to help him. And yet again, you flip to a new page, one from the fifth year this time. 

July 15, 20**

 I hate this part every year. Ever since my third year, it sickens me to come back home for summer. I can't see her because she lives in Lambeth while I'm in Westminster with my posh family. It makes me a little angry sometimes that my family is well-known in the wizarding world because this means my summers are filled with whatever my parents want me to do. The train ride back home was definitely not quiet. It was so chaotic(mostly because of the constant bickering between me and [Y/N]) and Kita-san yelled at us at the end. That was the first time I've ever seen him get angry, so he was either really fed up or we were being too dumb. Anyway, I'm gonna miss Hogwarts a lot for the next month or so, because after that I get to see her again. Honestly? Can't wait for the sixth year. I hope she grows taller, because right now, she's quite the midget. I'll write her a letter or two, but I probably won't send all of them. G'night for now. 

'Tsumu.

You continue reading it all. Page by page, parchment by parchment, word by word, letter by letter until you finally get to the last page. The one he wrote on the graduation day, where he says that he wants to marry you someday. But you don't get to read it just yet, because he walks into the room with his booming voice and boyish grin.

"[Y/N]! Sorry I'm late, sweetheart! I apparated back home as fast as I could 'cause Coach saw me slack off a lil-"

"So ya actually read it all, huh?" he smirks, walking up to you and crouching down next to you, "Ah, the last page, have ya read it yet?"

"Not the last one," you smile, "—if only I'd read these sooner, we wouldn't have gone through all that mindless drama in seventh year, right?"

"Eh, 'twas kinda worth it in the end," he shrugs, sitting down next to you and placing his thumb on your chin, "Love, you've been crying?"

You shook your head lightly, letting out a small chuckle which to him sounded like the sweetest melody on the face on the planet, "Tears of joy, 'Tsumu. You were a cute teenager in love."

He smiles with his teeth on display, his fading blonde hair falling on his face with perfection as he whispers, "Only for you, darling."

"I'm glad," you mutter, closing in and placing a ghost of a kiss on his lips when you realize, "Wait, shit! We have to take all of this to the House! I'm supposed to leave for Hogwarts tonight!"

"Kiss me first, then we'll talk."

"'Tsumu, you really didn't have to come all the way to Hogwarts to drop me off," you giggle, as the yellow-haired man intertwines his fingers with yours quietly, giggling along with you as he says, "Hey, now yer students get to see yer hot boyfriend that you've been with for the past eight years."

"My stupid boyfriend that did a lot of illegal things in school. You're not exactly a good influence, you know," you mumble, earning a little offended open-mouth Atsumu walking alongside you to your quarters. He continues faking the vexed expression, a hand on his heart as he says, "How could ya wound me like this, baby?" 

"I love you though, so it's justified," you say, opening the door and placing your trunk by the bed. He closes the door, leaning on it with his arms crossed over his chest as you set up your things in the room. When you turned around, you saw Atsumu looking at you with the most enamored look in his clove-infused eyes. You sighed, your shoulders immediately relaxing when your orbs land on him by the door. You step towards him, your beige trench coat trailing behind as you wrap your arms around his very muscular figure(now that he's a part of Nottingham Jackals as a Beater). 

"You're going to leave, aren't you?" you mumble against his chest softly, as he chuckles out, "Yer lucky ya get to stay in Hogwarts when I'm gone. Everything's gonna remind ya of me."

Before you open your mouth to retort, your boyfriend says, "Don't worry, slug. I'll send ya letters everyday. And I'll come to meet ya twice a month. Maybe you can even let me meet yer students."

"'Tsumu, no-"

"Imagine! Children and teenagers, all of 'em love me to death. They'll love yer class, even more, when you make me meet 'em!" he exclaims, his eyes filled with curiosity, "Also, also! What about the third years? I wanna be there when the boggart lesson goes on-"

"'Tsumu, no. The school won't allow it. Although, my students do come and ask about you a lot because they like your Quidditch playing skills. They're not idiots like me, they won't fall in love with your stupid personality," you chuckle, pulling away from the hug, but still holding his arms with yours. He pouts, pulling you into a soft kiss, but immediately pulling away and winking at you, "I'm gonna see ya in a few weeks. Maybe I'll take ya on a date to Hogsmeade again, we can sneak into the Shrieking Shack again under that invisibility cloak."

"'Tsumu, I'm a teacher, not a student!" you laugh, but he simply says, "If anything, that gives us an excuse!"

Miya Atsumu never expected you to be agitatedly running around in your green-room, trying to find things for your hair and make-up. He chuckles lightly because all the other people in the room can do is shake their heads and sigh at your frantic state. Your maid-of-honor, Kiyoko, tried to calm you down about half an hour ago, but it was to no avail. 

Atsumu sent Kiyoko a knowing glance, to which she and all the other bridesmaids stepped outside for just a minute. 

"[Y/N]," he says, his voice low but still soothing. You stop in your tracks, turning around and gasping as you looked at him—clad in sweatpants and a white shirt—and widened your eyes. 

"Dummy, you aren't supposed to see me just yet! Go away and wait at the altar!" you yell, walking over to him and attempting to shove him outside the room. 

Emphasis on the word, 'attempting'. 

"You look exactly like what you are right now, a slug. So listen to me, love. I need to give ya something before you start stressin' out all over again," Atsumu murmurs, placing his hands on your shoulders tenderly as he pulls out a book with a leather cover and hands it to you. 

You sigh, picking it up as you sit down by the vanity. Atsumu looms behind you, crouching down to whisper next to your ears, "Love, open the last page, will ya?"

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, turning your head to look at him with exasperation. He places a peck to your cheek, humming indulgently as an indicator for you to continue as he instructed. You sigh again, shoulders drooping low as you turn over the book and open it, and muttering, "Aparecium."

July 2, 20**.

I want to marry [L/N] [Y/N] someday. 

Miya Atsumu. 

From the last day of the seventh year, and Atsumu continues to explain to you that during the train ride back home when all of you were sleeping, was when he wrote the last entry of his diary, and never opened it again. Because he knew, that he meant every word scribbled on every page. 

You sat there, listening to the man with the messy faded blonde hair, losing yourself in his perfect brown eyes all over again. You felt as if you were diving deep into an ocean of pure chocolate, the sweetness and the slight bitterness getting the best of you as you drown—but voluntarily, because drowning was your intention. 

"I love you, Atsumu," you say out of nowhere, cutting him off. He stops abruptly, his eyes growing wide and his mouth forming into a pout. His lips form into the brightest smile ever, as if the rays of a thousand suns meeting at one point. His boyish grin melts your heart, as he presses his lips to your forehead and says, "I love you more, darling. Now, take a breather, will ya?"

"Oh, and before I go. Don't disappoint me today, slug. I've been waiting to do this for the past eleven years."

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

i’m not crying. yes. 

[justathoughtfulangel]

Day 4383 (AU Kai Parker Love Story)

Hello! This is part eight of my AU Kai Parker series. If you are new to the series, please read the details regarding the universe I’ve created here.

These chapters are not meant to be read as stand-alone pieces. Please read the last few chapters if you haven’t yet:

Day 1 ~ Day 222 ~ Day 318 ~ Day 1095 ~ Days 1374, 1955, and 2062 ~ Day 2682 ~ Day 3875

Word count: 455

*not my gif

Story begins after the break :)

Day 4383: May 10th, 2006

Even though Malachai was trying to find a way out of his prison, he couldn’t bring himself to stray too far from home. Every morning, he eagerly awaited a new letter. Some days, he was sorely disappointed. On others, he had a whole new stack waiting for him. Hearing about her life made him so much happier. 

He could see her do all she was doing. He could visualize her friends. Every night before he slept, Kai could almost hear her whisper “I love you.” He was alone, but he was in bliss. 

Kai should’ve known bliss doesn’t last long in his life. 

The day after his 34th birthday was the one that stole his dream from him. Kai made his coffee and eagerly sat to read her letter. He was not prepared for what lay inside.

May 9th, 2006:

My dearest Malachai,

I suppose your birthday isn’t a good day to tell you this, but I’m afraid this is the last letter I will be writing to you. I love you, and I will always love you. This just isn’t healthy for me. Writing a diary in the form of letters to my ex isn’t exactly a commendable coping mechanism (and I would know, wouldn’t I? Being a fancy-schmancy psychologist and all). 

Kai tried to laugh at the humor she wrote for herself, ignoring the wetness in his eyes as he continued reading.

If by some twist of fate these letters reach you, I need you to know that you will forever have a great piece of my heart. I will never be able to care for you any more than I already do. Just as you needed mine and I needed yours, we need love to survive. I need love, Malachai. I need to feel hopeful. My family is gone, and it is time I start anew. 

If you ever return, please come find me. Josette will help you. I must end this letter now, or I’ll keep writing until my fingers break. 

Goodbye. I love you.

The abrupt ending took the air from his lungs. That was it? She was… just gone?

No. She wasn’t gone, not in the true sense of the word. Kai distinctly remembered the horror of her death. She was alive and well; she’d be making a new life for herself. He was happy for her. This is what Kai wanted. 

He knew he was lying to himself, of course, but the lies would be easier to live with. 

Suddenly, Kai’s coffee was tasteless. The treehouse did not bring his soul peace, not like it used to. For the first time in years, he felt the gravity of his loneliness weigh him down…

~~~

This concludes part eight of my AU Kai Parker series! Part nine is now posted! Read it here.

In the meantime, feel free to check out my other Kai Parker stories from my masterlist.

As always, feel free to message me with your thoughts, comments, constructive criticisms, story ideas, or anything under the sun!

Lots of love, JustAThoughtfulAngel <3

[fbfh]

miss missing you - percy x reader

 1.1k words

 pls listen to miss missing you by fob and conspiracy and where the lines overlap by paramore

The end of the summer could pretty miserable for a lot of reasons

But you always tried your hardest not to focus on that

Communicating with other demigods was pretty hard sometimes

You couldn’t really call or text, and writing letters was hard unless it was in greek, but that could seem pretty suspicious

But love can make you pretty creative

Over your years of being together, you and Percy have worked out a pretty good system

You managed to get your hands on old fashioned camcorders, dvd players, and blank dvds among other things

You film little video diaries every day, burn them onto a dvd, and mail them to each other

You’ve also gotten into the habit of filming during your time at camp half blood, too

The only consistency you have nine months out of the year is getting a big orange envelope from percy with a dvd of his face, polaroids of him and his mom, and little notes in greek

The singing thing started when he had a particularly rough week

He was behind in school, drama had erupted with the few friends he had managed to make, and his mom had the flu

He missed you so much it physically hurt

All he wanted was to feel your touch

Maybe hear your voice in person instead of through shitty dvd player speakers that stopped being made in 2006

He kept thinking back to being at camp with you

Those moments when you smelled like chlorine and your hair was warm from the sun

He missed the taste of your lip balm, the strawberry one with spf you only used in summer

When you would hug him and the knot from your tied up camp shirt would poke his stomach, the way your laugh blended seamlessly with the crackle of the bonfire

And now it was abysmally icy outside, and his seasonal depression was in full swing

“I just miss you… miss your voice. I can’t catch up on my homework because every time I try to, that song conspiracy by paramore won’t stop playing in my head even though I haven’t listened to it since middle school, so… I dunno what’s going on up here,” 

He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck, but you could tell he was really struggling

The next video you sent included a clip of you singing and dancing along to conspiracy in your kitchen, followed by your step parent asking what you’re doing up this late

It ended with you in your room, bidding him good night

You included a polaroid of  you kissing the teddy bear he got you for your birthday, and written on the back in greek,

“Remember ‘where the lines overlap’? What a banger ♥️”

You went back and forth for weeks, sending clips of you singing old songs you listened to in middle school among your other videos

You’d talk about school and camp, you’d dream about the future together, talk about getting a little apartment together after you graduate

Every time Percy came home and saw his mom holding an envelope with that specific look on her face, he knew something from you had arrived

That was the main thing that got him through each semester

Any time there was a school break, you tried to meet up with him

What felt like half an eternity later, you were both cramming for graduation

He had gotten into a college close to where he lived on a swimming scholarship 

The minute you got home from graduation, you ran into your room to pack for camp

You were coming early this year and nothing could stop you

You even risked an iris message to Percy while you got ready

You had no idea if you would be able to pull off the surprise you’d been working on, but you were going to do everything possible to make it happen

After you hung up, you finished the smaller surprise for his birthday

That summer was among the best you’d ever had

As august drew nearer, you started to get nervous again

Chiron had dropped by a few days before Percy’s birthday to give you a letter in person

“It seems important”

It was

You were beyond elated, things were finally falling into place

Once it was finally Percy’s birthday, you had pulled him aside to have a quiet moment together to give him his present

He unwrapped it, and gave you a confused look, a smile already unstoppable on his face

“All of our songs,” you said, “in chronological order.” 

And there it was

All of the songs you’ve sung and danced to numbered in blue fine tip sharpie

He pulled you in for a tight hug

You savored it for a moment, his hugs are always amazing

They’re so enveloping and warm

After a minute you mutter, “There is another surprise,”

“I was going to wait until the end of camp, but I can’t hold out on you anymore.” 

You pull the letter out of your pocket and hand it to him

You explain the plan you’ve been working on for months

You used the gifts from your godly parent to get an internship at a great company in manhattan

“I’ll need to do some training, complete some coursework, but…” 

He stared at you in disbelief

“I’m staying in New York”

He pulled you into another hug, this one tighter than before, and kissed you so warmly you thought you’d melt

After you finally pull apart, you grab the cd case and slip in a piece of paper you’d written the title of the mix tape on

He reads the title you wrote out in greek

‘Songs to dance to in our kitchen’

Our kitchen

He laughed in disbelief

“So no more mailing videos?”

You shake your head

“No more mailing videos,” 

He realized this really was the end of an era

But the beginning of a new one

Once he realized you weren’t going to be separated any more, he suddenly felt strangely nostalgic for all those times you got through together

He mentioned this, and you joked, “Oh, I can move back in with my parents if you want to keep doing that,”

“No way,” he laughed, pulling you into a hug, “I’ll miss missing you, you know, now and then... but I’d much rather have the real thing.” 

“So would I,” 

And you both got what you wanted 

Dancing in the kitchen together to songs you used to cry to

But this time everything felt alright

[hellotherekenobi]

─── a letter to you.

summary: the one thing you’re good at, aside from being a jedi, is writing. in fact, it helps you say the things that you can never say aloud; like how you’re in love with obi-wan kenobi. the one thing you’re bad at, though, is keeping your writing hidden, and one letter gets found.

requested by: @iamfrulcrum

ONESHOT. ⟶ 2,521 WORDS.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It was one of those things. Something you do to help quiet the voices in your head, to collect your thoughts into one big bundle instead of scattered scribbles on the pages of your mind. It was calming. It was your way of coping. It was writing.

When everything became too much, you knew the one thing that would always help is to write things down. With a pen or a pencil in your hand, the world goes quiet. It was also a way to express your secrets without ever really telling anybody— secrets you kept for the very reason that if anyone found out, you would be in deep waters. Why? Because you’re in love with a Jedi. And you have no idea what to do about it.

You’ve been friends with Obi-Wan ever since you were knighted a Jedi alongside him, and although you two were on less and less missions together as the years passed, your feelings for him never faulted. Whenever he greeted you with a toothy smile or ran a hand through his hair or looked at you with those dazzling blue eyes, you felt every sort of butterfly erupt in your stomach; completely head-over-heels for a man who could never love you back, or love at all for that matter.

So, writing was the best option for you. It was that or harboring your entire existence around him, which was almost becoming the norm for you with how much you think about him. But no more. To get the thoughts out of your head, you know you need to put them to paper. Then you can scrunch it up into a little ball and burn it and hope for the best.

However, the hopeful moment was split in two when a finger tapped your shoulder and you flinched; turning around in your chair quickly to see those beautiful, sparkling cerulean eyes that you were all too familiar with— the very pair that made you melt down into a puddle, feeling all gooey inside— so you can’t help but instantly relax at noticing that it’s him and smiling like, what you are sure looks to be, a complete and utter goofball.

“Hi, darling,” he smiles, a soft chuckle flowing past his lips as he settles himself into the chair beside you— and you feel as if your smile has grown even wider with just those two words and the very way he said them— “do you mind if I sit here for a while? I’m on the run at the moment.”

“On the run?” You laugh and he leans in close to shush you.

“Yes, from Madame Kandria. I’ve become her errand boy for the day and I have had it. I need a break.”

You nod at him, placing your chin in your palm, “Hmm, very good choice then here, the library.”

“It was the most obvious choice, yes—” he nudges your arm— “besides, when I saw you sitting here all by yourself, I had to join you.” He smiles brightly, as if he should be receiving a golden sticker on his robes for such a charming compliment, “What are you writing?”

“Just thoughts,” you offer, sliding him a piece of paper you had been scribbling at for the past few minutes, fortunately nothing about him... yet.

He takes the paper with gentleness; using one finger to spin it to face himself and taking his time to read each word with the utmost attentiveness— you almost scoff at how he looks, all he needs is a pair of reading glasses and the picture would be set; something adorable to frame inside your mind, as opposed to all the other moments you’ve captured that now reside where you can always look at them. After a moment, Obi-Wan hums and flashes you another, but quick, dazzling smile.

“You have a way with words,” he says and you drag the paper back to you, rolling your eyes and shaking your head as if it were a twitch, but Obi-Wan is quick to reach for the paper; placing his hand on top of yours, “I mean it!”

“Thank you.” You nod at him, focusing much more on the feeling of his soft but calloused hand rather than his sincere words.

“When are you going to write me something?” He asks suddenly, and you’re looking at him with such genuine surprise that he chuckles, “I’m asking.”

“You’re asking?”

He makes such an adorable sound when he nods at you that you almost cave and tell him well, I have written about you before, plenty of times, so take your pick! but just as his tap on the shoulder to you interrupted your thoughts before, so does the shout of his name from the doorway does now; Obi-Wan springing up, his hand squeezing yours, and stammering out a, “M-Madame Kandria!”

She looks furious, the poor woman; standing with her back so straight that she might as well have been a statue, the lines under her eyes showing more than just age but stress too, “I’ve been calling for you.”

“My apologies, I was helping my frien—”

“Come with me.”

She doesn’t say another word, just simply spins on her heel and walks right back out of the door. Obi-Wan turns around to you with a mocking yet tired smile on his face and you’re about to burst into laughter right then and there with how much annoyance you can feel seeping from him, until he leans over to press a kiss to your forehead, his hand that was on yours now at the back of your head to move you toward him gently, and then he’s dashing out of the room to follow Kandria before she can shout at him again.

And you sit there. And you blink. And you write.

─────── ⋯ ───────

Obi-Wan rarely sees you that week, with him at Madame Kandria’s beck-and-call and you with your duties around the temple, that whenever you two do happen to see each other, it’s when you’re leaving the library and he’s entering it. He keeps trying, however, to time those quick encounters better so that he can actually talk to you but it turns out that when he tries, he ends up missing you altogether. Like now, with him finding the only evidence that you were even in the library to begin with being the papers scattered on one of the desks.

It brings a soft smile to his face, though, to see all the mess you’ve left behind— you have always been a bit of a scattered bookworm and besides, this gives him the best excuse to find you and return these as if he hasn’t been chasing you around the Jedi Temple for days. As he goes to collect them all, he can’t help but skim his eyes down the pages and read what he can, because he doesn’t want to pry, really he doesn’t, but he has always hoped that you would write about him one of these days, even if it were to make fun of him or—

Soft, cerulean eyes and auburn hair. He’s beautiful without realizing it.

Was that... his eyes that you had written about? His hair? Do you think that he’s... beautiful? Now he can’t help the jolt of curiosity that suddenly rushes through him, and he sits down on the chair to properly read what’s on the page.

Write about me, he says. As if I haven’t done so a hundred times before. A letter to you, then. I’m consumed by you. You touch my hand and I light up. You kiss my forehead and I melt. I doubt you even know how I feel about you. Sometimes I think that you may feel the same. I wish you had kissed me on the lips instead.

Obi-Wan’s whole world has been turned upside down. The words he’s read are swirling around in his head, spinning faster and faster like a tide-pool, until he feels as if he’s going to topple over. All these years... all this time when he thought he was chasing daydreams, and you’ve felt the same way. Why couldn’t you be here? Why can’t you be next to him so that he can pull you to him and kiss you like you had wished that he would? How could he even tell you that he’s loved you ever since you were young? If only he had an outlet like you, where he could express himself and confess to his feelings— wait.

He looks down at the paper, and he looks at all the others, and he finds one that’s barely been written on. And he grabs the pencil you had left on the table. And he writes.

─────── ⋯ ───────

You turn around the corner with a smile on your face, looking as positively cheerful as you can muster, before noticing that the desk is empty and you’ve missed Obi-Wan in the library again, and the smile wipes itself off of your face almost about as fast as Obi-Wan had ran out of the library at the start of the week. It was becoming increasingly tiresome to constantly miss Obi-Wan by a couple of minutes or only see him down the hallway when you’re heading in the opposite direction. You just wanted to talk to him. Aside from writing, he was the only other thing— the only other person— that helped you relax. And the very fact that the last exchange between the two of you was him kissing your forehead is about driving you mad. That spot has been burning ever since and you’ve found yourself swiping your fingers along it without prompt on more than one occasion.

You need to write. You need to get these thoughts out of you before you bubble over, or boil over for that matter (it does seem the most appropriate with everything that’s been going on.) With you is your stack of papers, all crumpled up between each other; the ones that were left by your door by who you’re sure was Obi-Wan. You hadn’t meant to leave a mess behind you in the library that day but you were in a hurry, and you’re thankful that no one else found them... like Master Mace Windu. You shiver just at the thought of him reading anything of yours. What if he read something private? Like the one time you wrote in agonizing detail the embarrassing encounter you had with the Gungans who had been invited to one Senate meeting and you had... no, that’s better left unsaid.

Flicking through your papers, you look for a spare one that you can write on, but you don’t seem to find any empty space, which is odd seeing as you always make sure you have at least one blank piece of paper with you. There’s your diary entry of sorts about yesterday, the messy notes you took in the meeting which was only supposed to be quick but it went on for much longer than that, the dream you had, the note you had written about Obi-Wan— maker, what if he had seen that?— and the paper about someone’s eyes. Wait. You don’t remember writing that. Wait. That isn’t your handwriting.

The most beautiful eyes I’ve ever gazed into. You’re beautiful in everything you do and you don’t seem to realize it.

You re-read those words as if your life depends on them. One more time. Two more times. It sounds just like what you wrote about Obi-Wan the other day, and you quickly flick through to compare the two letters. It’s as if someone has replied to what you wrote. And when this thought registers in your mind, you read the rest of it.

I’ve never been too good at words like you are, as much as you may think that I am. Instead I will list all the ways that I love you. In the way I touch your hand, in the way I kiss your forehead, in the way I smile when we talk. I love you in every way that I can. I wish I had kissed your lips as well.

It’s as if someone just drove their hand deep into your chest and gave your heart a handshake. There’s no feeling in your fingertips for a moment as you sit there and hold the letter, glance at the words, and fight the urge to scream— because if what you read wasn’t any indication on who wrote this, then it was the scribbled ‘sincerely, the errand boy’ on the bottom of the page that gave it away. It was Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan wrote you this letter. Obi-Wan read the letter you had written him. And Obi-Wan told you that he loves you.

Now you really do bubble over (and, yes, this is the most appropriate with the excitement you feel) at the thought of Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Jedi knight, the boy, you had fallen in love with all those years ago who loves you back. It seems too good to be true, as if you’re going to smile so wide that you’ll wake yourself up from this dream and go back to only ever being able to love him in words. But the weight of everything sinks in when you flip the page over and read ‘I’m in the training room’, and you leap out of the chair like you’ve never moved so fast before— taking care to not leave anything behind this time— and practically run to the training room. He needn’t have to tell you which one; you can feel him as you get closer— he’s nervous.

When you step through the doorway, Obi-Wan is sitting at the other end of the room and he stands almost as fast as you had done only minutes before in the library. There’s a moment where neither of you two move, where the air goes quiet and you can only hear the hammering of your heart, and then in a soft, whispered press of the Force to your mind you hear him speak, ‘you’re here’ and you nod at him, a smile forming at the corner of your mouth, and speak aloud, “I’m here.”

He takes the first step toward you, then you take one, then he takes two more, and so you two play this game of who will reach the other first. As you near him, you can see the way he fiddles with his hands. Chuckling, you reach out to him, your hand gently brushing along the top of his until you can feel him relax under your touch, and you both have stepped so close that you’re breathing the same air together, and he takes one more tentative step to gently rest his forehead on yours. You close your eyes and you breathe this moment in; you let yourself remember what this smells like, you let yourself cherish the quiet that you spend with him like this.

And then ever so quietly, with the sweetest tone of his voice, he speaks, “Can I kiss you this time?”

tags: @thedevilwearsbeskar @goldenkenobi @aemorr-5885 @katsav17 @badedum-badaboom @solaena @lexylovesfandoms