#I’ve been busy at work and have writers block outside of that so I’m struggling 🥴

[doodles-bi-tea]

Hey I’m 🌱🫖 Anon the one that asked for that detailed Brad Bakshi fic, and I wanted to ask if you are going to release it or if you don’t feel like writing it anymore (it’s totally fine either way) is mostly just to know.

Also I love how you have decorated your blog with a F1 theme. I’m a fellow F1 fan (since childhood) and I’m also Spanish so seeing that you have a Carlos profile picture always makes my day ☺️

-🌱🫖

crying lightning (unfinished/pt. 1)

Brad Bakshi was by no means a warm person. At least, not that you had thought until now.

pairing: brad bakshi x coworker reader [second person, no y/n]

warnings: a couple of cliches, fear of dark and thunderstorms, power outage, profanity, developing feelings. mostly fluff/comfort. brad is a little bit of an asshole, as expected (and now you’re caught up!), but not the whole time. one mention of c.w.

(unfinished) word count: 2.3k

a/n: based off of this request here! heyyyy 🌱🫖 anon, I really appreciated the request! hope you don’t mind I focused it more so on season one/two brad. sorry this took so long to post and I didn’t even get to finish it, I got caught up in the struggles of daily life smh 😔 but thank you so much for your patience, I might finish it if I get the motivation but at the moment I’m not sure… also yes I’m into f1 now!! I might write for some of the drivers if people really want that but I’m not sure since I’ve been very busy. let me know if you’d be interested in that!

Your keys clinked together as you locked the front door of your apartment. After that was done, you slipped them into your bag and began the ten-minute walk to work. The sounds of Los Angeles were blocked out by the headphones you wore, listening to music and podcasts as you crossed streets and walked along the pavement. People, although no more than faces and outfits, passed you every day on the same route you went to get to Mythic Quest headquarters. It felt like just another day.

“Fuuuuuuuck.” You groaned, slouching down and letting your head hit the desk with a thud. The rain was absolutely pouring outside, you could hear it.

Being on the writing team wasn’t as glamorous as you had hoped it would be. C.W., as much as you initially admired his works, was an incredibly lousy head writer. That was normal, but especially today, he or one of the other slightly psychotic department heads were extra adamant on making sure you couldn’t get any work done. Thus you’d needed to stay a little later than normal.

It was only an extra half hour to revise a rough draft and a couple storyboarding charts, you’d told yourself. That was before the rain started twenty minutes into those extra thirty minutes. If you had left on time, you would have been able to get home – and with time to spare! – without needing to get rained on. Since you’d waited, though, the rain started, and forced you to stay in the building until it dissipated. When you checked your phone that morning, the forecast was only clear and sunny. That was clearly not the case now. Locked in your workplace, you decided to continue working until you either finished or the rain stopped.

Back to the present moment, you had just finished the work you needed to do, but the rain hadn’t let up. It didn’t seem like it was going to any time soon, either. If anything, it sounded like it was getting worse. You sat up, leaning back into the rolling chair you had, and pressing your hands to your closed eyes in frustration.

“What are you still doing here?” It was almost like Brad could smell the despair emanating from your being.

Not expecting his sudden presence, you nearly jumped at the mere sound of his voice.

“Jesus Christ, Brad,” You abruptly pulled your hands away from your face and gripped the armrests of the chair. “Scared the shit out of me.”

He scoffed. “I try. But what are you doing here? Work ended an hour ago.”

“I could say the same for you.”

“Yeah, you could. But I asked first. And you still haven’t answered.”

You inhaled through your teeth before pursing your lips. “Okay, fine, I wanted to just finalize some stuff the writing team and I were working on today. Poppy and Ian wouldn’t leave me alone because they were having one of their little… piss fights and were bothering everyone to see who was ‘right.’ I wasn’t gonna stay for that long, but the rain clearly had other plans.” You halfheartedly gestured to the windows in the main room that showed the overcast sky and harsh rain happening outside.

Brad didn’t even bother looking behind him. “And, what? You don’t have a ride or something?”

You furrowed your brows at his response. “Dude. I literally walk to work every day. It’s easier because it’s not that far and I get to avoid the issues of traffic and having to park in the parking structure, you know? And the gas prices, have you seen that bullsh-”

“Yeah, yeah I get it, whatever. Just shut it. I didn’t come here to listen to you complain.” He waved a hand around aimlessly as he began to roll his eyes.

Neither of you said anything further for a moment, you just sat there watching as he studied the ground. If you hadn’t been looking at him, you wouldn’t have noticed the very subtle twitch of his eye and the little exasperated sigh he let out as he seemed to be weighing his options. He opened his mouth, but paused. Then he went on to speak.

“You don’t even have like a flimsy little umbrella or something? A raincoat? Nothing?” He hung his head slightly lower, talking with an air of disbelief.

“Does it look like it, Bakshi?” You held your hands up and swiveled around in the chair a little, glancing quickly around the room with furrowed brows. “If I had either of those I would have left already.”

“I don’t know what goes through your mind,” He scoffed again. “I’m not a lowly writer. I’m the HOMIE.”

You didn’t really have any words. You wanted to so desperately insult him but you knew he would easily be able to destroy you with less effort. Instead you opted for just biting your tongue.

“Whatever. I’ll probably just wait it out. Even if it means I have to sleep in my office.” You moved your chair closer to the desk and laid your forehead down, quietly groaning in defeat.

Although you couldn’t see him, you could tell Brad was fidgeting slightly from where he stood in the doorway. The rain pattered onto the pavement outside, but you could hear the slight rustle of whatever sweater he was wearing, the tapping of his shoe on the carpeted floor, the liquid he swirled around in his mug. Eventually he spoke.

“Did you…” He trailed off, clearly reluctant. “Did you need a ride?”

Your brows furrowed, again, against the cold desk. “Really?” You were in disbelief as you sat up in your chair. “The infamous Brad Bakshi, greedy, heartless bastard of MQ, offering to give a ‘lowly writer’ a ride? Is this real? Am I on a prank show? Where are the cameras?” You gave him an exaggerated gasp as you quickly whipped your head around the room and spun around in your chair.

“Do you want that car ride or not?” His blank expression said it all. Brad was not amused.

“Fine, fine, just let me get my stuff real quick.”

Brad walked briskly, not waiting for you to catch up as he practically sprinted through the staff parking structure. “Pick up the pace, writer.”

You grumbled little insults under your breath so he wouldn’t hear, and began walking faster to keep up. “Fine, ‘homie.’”

The two of you eventually got to his car. It was nothing too extravagant. Fairly generic, but sleek enough for his taste.

[I’m so sorry I don’t know or remember what car Brad drives/would drive – if anyone has an answer for this please hmu LMAO. I feel like it would be either silver, blue, or black (some of the most generic car colors but with somewhat deeper connection to him as a person/character).]

The inside smells faintly like an air freshener but more like something more comfortable and just there. Somewhat like dust, but not unpleasantly so. You get into the passenger seat as Brad gets into the driver’s. He hands you his phone, already open to a navigation app for you to put your address into. You begin doing so, but a weather advisory appears. At the same time, you can feel your own phone vibrate inside your bag, presumably giving you the same notice. “Harsh rain and possible storms in the general LA area. Staying home is recommended.” it read. Brad leans over a little, just to see the notification.

“Hm. Would have been nice to know before I left for work this morning.” You scoffed, a little weary but continuing to type your address before you gave him his phone back.

He took it and began the route, the two of you leaving the parking structure in silence. It was a little uncomfortable, you had to admit, but not for long.

“If you want music you can put something on. Just connect your phone with bluetooth.” Brad said softly.

It was unexpectedly quiet and gentle, a stark contrast to his normal brash demeanor.

“Oh, okay.”

You pressed some things on the dashboard, before connecting your phone and playing some of your favorite music. It didn’t seem like Brad had much of an opinion on it. Rain continued to patter on the windshield as the car was stagnant.

“Thanks, by the way.” You kind of blurted out, but it was genuine. “I forgot to say it earlier, but it means a lot.”

His response was brief. “It’s whatever.”

The temporary silence returned. Another buzz sounded from your phones. Rather than taking yours out, you just leaned over to look at Brad’s phone. Another notice, but this time a warning. “Expected storms within next twelve hours. Power outages in some areas of LA and southern California. It is advised to stay off the roads during this time frame.”

“Shit.” You murmured, clearly more worried now. “My apartment’s still another ten minutes away because of the traffic…”

“Yep.” Brad was still stoic.

“Hey, by the way, where do you live? Are you far away from here? ‘Cause I don’t want you to have to drive to my apartment and then all the way back if it’s like the opposite direction.”

“It’s like five minutes away from MQ.”

You were silent for a moment, out of disbelief. “What?”

“Yeah. I live five minutes away.”

“And you don’t just walk?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause.”

“God, Brad, you’re such a-”

“An environmentally apathetic asshole? Self-centered douchebag? Lazy bum? I’ve heard it all and I really couldn't care less.”

“Okay, but seriously, I don’t want you to, like, hydroplane and-or get into an accident on the way back to your place. You might as well just drop me off here and turn back now.”

Brad turned to you, an eyebrow raised and head cocked slightly to the side. “As ‘on-brand’ that would be for me, that’s an actual asshole move, and I don’t want your death to be on my hands if you get swept up and away by some random gust of wind.”

“Oh, wow, so he does have a heart.” You quipped.

Brad rolled his eyes again, looking out at the cars in front of you. “As much as I hate to admit it, yes, I do. All humans do, because it pumps blood throughout their fucking bodies. I thought you were smarter than this, writer.”

“You know what I mean. I’m not that much of a dumbass.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh, my god, just… shut up. Also are you not in any way worried about our current situation? We’re bound to get into an accident at this rate, we need to get to our places as soon as we possibly can.”

“Okay, well, the traffic to get to your apartment is still not clearing up, so if you’re so worried, I’ll drop you back off at MQ and then I’ll head to my house.”

You shook your head at the notion, groaning. “No, no, no, no, I can’t stay at MQ overnight…”

Brad turned back to look at you. A strange hint of a smile graced his lips as he scoffed.

“What happened to ‘I’ll wait the rain out even if it means I have to sleep at my desk?’”

You felt the heat of embarrassment rise up your neck and to your cheeks, turning away from him and facing the window to avoid eye contact. “I don’t know, I didn’t think I’d actually have to do it. Especially after you offered me a ride! And now we’re in the car, it seemed pretty unlikely that it would still be happening.”

For the first time in you ever knowing him (your two years at MQ), Brad Bakshi laughed. It wasn’t one of his sarcastic chuckles, nor a strained noise, but a genuine laugh. You had a puzzled look on your face, and whipped your head around to see him. His eyes were shut, he was slightly hunched over, and his smile was clear as day. He continued to laugh–presumably at you–but for once, you didn’t mind. The sight was a joy to see. Sure, Brad was an asshole, but he had his moments. A smile of your own crept its way onto your face as you watched him laugh for a few seconds longer. As his laughter wound down, a sudden crack of lightning flashed across the sky, a rumble of thunder following immediately after, startling the both of you.

“Shit!” You hissed, jumping in your seat. “Okay, okay, we really need to get to safety, like… now. This shit is actually dangerous, Brad. I don’t want you getting injured or worse because of my lack of preparation. If you really need to drop me off at the office on your way to your place, that’s… fine.”

Although unhappy that the start of your weekend would be ruined by having to sleep over in your office building, you figured it would be better than causing Brad to get stuck in the storm. You awaited his response, once again watching him as he thought for a moment.

Suddenly, he let out a quiet groan, tilting his head down, leaning his forehead lightly against the wheel. “I can’t believe I’m about to offer this to you, of all people, but if you’re so god damn worried about my safety… I have a guest room at my house.”

His sudden generosity confuses and delights you. It’s strange, that’s for sure, but it’s a welcome surprise.

“Really?”

“Why else would I have said it?” It was a question but it came out as more of a statement.

“I don’t know, it’s just… weird. Not to say that I don’t accept, but it’s oddly kind of you. Not something commonly associated with the image of Brad Bakshi.”

He shrugged. “I know. So do you accept or not?”

“I do, thank you so much.” You spoke quickly, hoping he wouldn’t rescind the offer. “I’m sorry to cause you so much inconvenience.”

“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry you’re so dumb that you didn’t prepare a way back home.”

“Oh, my god.”

#tea writes #🌱🫖 anon #brad bakshi x reader #brad bakshi #mythic quest #mq #apple tv #danny pudi #abed nadir #abed nadir x reader #sorry those last two are kind of clickbait but I need reach #x reader #mythic quest fanfiction #mythic quest x reader #mq x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #mythic quest fanfic

[three-drink-amy]

WIP WEEKEND

Thank you to @welcometololaland for creating such a fun game! And to @orchidscript @strandnreyes @inexplicablymine @alrightbuckaroo and @cricketnationrise for tagging me! I was busy all weekend, but I’m playing along now!

1. WIP List:

RWRB:

Cruise AU —Alex and Henry go on a cruise together. Fake dating ensues.

Bodyguard AU —Alex is Henry’s bodyguard.

Potential third installment of Boy, I Fancy You

Lone Star:

Finish Teachers (I’m getting closer!)

Delayed wedding AU —The wedding doesn’t happen directly after Gabriel dies. It takes a while longer.

PR Relationship AU—Carlos and TK are in the spotlight and enter a PR relationship, but what happens when they catch feelings?

2. Which of your WIPs is currently the longest?

Teachers, by a long shot, is the longest. Currently sitting at over 100k.

3. Which WIP do you expect will end up the longest?

Teachers or Bodyguard AU. Probably Teachers, but I have a lot of plans for Bodyguard.

4. Which WIP is your favourite to write/the most enjoyable to write? Why?

I only have 3 wips I have actual words written for. Teachers is very fun! Bodyguard has been trying to steal my attention for quite a while! It’s so fun to write Jonah, as well as the dynamic of TK, Carlos, and Jonah as a little family.

5. Which WIP do you find the most intimidating to write? Why?

Probably Bodyguard. I need the angst and the drama and the desperation to hit right.

6. Which WIP do you experience the most self-doubt about. Why?

Right now, probably the Cruise fic because I’m getting very self conscious about making it as fun as it should be.

7. Which of your WIPs will you seek out a beta/sensitivity reader for? Why?

I have my honorary beta reader/cheerleader all rolled into one with @rmd-writes. She worked her way into my docs ages ago and I can’t imagine not asking her to read it first.

8. Have any of your WIPs been struck by the curse of writer's block?

Yes. Bodyguard did. I started it in January or February of this year, struggled to plan the next chapter, started reading a ton of Lone Star fics, began writing Teachers, and it has sat there like a sad, ignored WIP for months. But I’m coming back to it!

9. Which WIP has your favourite OC? Tell us about them?

Jonah may not be an actual OC, but this version of him kind of is and I absolutely love him! He’s a tiny, loving, teacher’s pet and he is my child.

10. Which WIP is the sexiest?

Cruise or Bodyguard may end up being the sexiest. If I’ve done my job right 😂

11. Which WIP is the angstiest?

Bodyguard or Delayed Wedding will be the winners. Bodyguard for potential angst and bodily harm, Delayed Wedding for emotions.

12. Which WIP has the best characterisation (in your humble opinion)?

Well that is really hard. I am gonna say the cruise WIP because I get to really lean into oblivious Alex and I’m excited for it!

13. Which WIP has the best scene setting (in your humble opinion)?

Cruise fic. They’re on their way to Europe. I can’t wait to get to that part!

14. Which WIP have you worked the hardest on?

I guess Teachers, just for the sheer amount of time I have spent writing it. I started it in February. I would love to finish it by the end of 2023. Let’s hope. I looked back and for an unhinged week when I had Covid, I wrote an obscene amount of words. So, yeah, Teachers.

15. Which WIP do you have the highest expectations for? Why?

Bodyguard or PR Relationship. Both of them lean into tropes I love and so I want them to work.

16. Do you dream about any of your WIPs?

Not that I can remember. Day dream? All the time.

17. Do any of your WIPs have particular complexities that your other fics don't?

I guess Delayed Wedding might because I’ll have to rely a lot on canon. AUs I can be a bit more free.

18. Which WIP is the funniest or has the most humour?

Probably the Cruise fic. Or Teachers.

19. Do any of your WIPs contain outside POVs or a deep dive on a character other than the main ship? How are you finding that process?

Teachers had a decent dive into Jonah, though it’s still from Carlos or TK’s perspective.

20. Tell us one thing we don't know about one or more of your WIPs.

I’m excited to write more angst. And a few of these will be fulllll of angst. Teeheeheee.

I have no idea who has done this. If you have, ignore me! No pressure tagging: @clottedcreamfudge @indomitable-love @cha-melodius @dumbpeachjuice @liminalmemories21 and @lightningboltreader

#tag games #my wips #my writing

[ficsforyou]

Hey! First of all I'm in love with the way you write honey <3 and my request is Dano!Riddler and his psychiatrist smut (who treated him before he became the Riddler ) but my ideia is he goes to jail in Arkam like at the end of the movie, but Eddie starts sending her letters and when he manages to escape from arkam he goes after her because he is in love/obsessed with her. (sorry my english isn't that good.)

Stay still

A/n: thank you so much! I love this idea! It took a long time, cause I’ve been struggling with writers block. So I’m sorry about that, but here it is. Hope you like it x

Dano!riddler x afab!reader

Word count: 2,5k

Summary: You were just doing your job, never in a million years would you think that it would get you here. Spreading your legs for your patient.

Warnings: smut, language, dom!riddler, mentions of stalking, mentions of murder, dub-con ish?

You stepped into your flat. Feeling drained of energy from the many hours of work. The past few weeks had been exhausting. Ever since your former patient Mr. Nashton was imprisoned, your life had been a living hell. The police had been questioning you nonstop, and you had to testify in court. Something you hadn’t done before, considering you were fairly new to the therapy business. You still could feel the way he was looking at you during those testimonies. Almost like you betrayed him. Weirdly enough that wasn’t the worst part. Literally hundreds of reporters and journalists had been trying to reach you. Asking you anything and everything. Standing outside your apartment complex all day. Waiting for you like vultures. You had seen some pretty awful stuff been said about you as well. How you probably was in on it. That you knew, but didn’t tell anyone. Some people would even go as far to say that you had an affair with him. Something that wasn’t true. None of it was true.

You walked into the kitchen, pouring a glass of water and downing it at once. Feeling the thirst that had been itching your throat for hours, finally disappear.

“Rough night?”

Your sister walked up to you, leaning against the counter.

“That’s one way of putting it.”

It got quiet for some time as you put the glass away. Walking closer to her.

“Thank you for watching the dogs on such a short notice. I wasn’t planning on working overtime tonight.”

She nodded and patted you shoulder.

“No worries, I have to get going though. I’d like to say good night to the kids.”

You nodded and smiled, as she walked over to her jacket.

“Say good night from me as well.”

You said to her as she walked towards the door.

“I will!”

She slightly yelled back. You could hear the door opening.

“Oh, and for gods sake, start getting your mail! Your postbox was overflowing again!”

She added, as you heard the door close behind her. You looked over at the pile of envelopes laying on your kitchen counter. You sighed, as you sat down on the bar stool. Starting to open the mail. One by one. A few bills, some coupons you’ll never use, a weird handwritten note from Arkham. The usual. Wait. Handwritten note from Arkham? You grabbed the letter again. Looking at the horrible writing, that was frighteningly familiar. She started to read it slowly.

“Dear Y/n.

I figured I’d write you. I want to apologise for everything that has happened to you because of me. It was never my intention. I do find it funny how so many think we had a relationship… I do think about that myself as well. If the circumstances were different, my love I promise you I’d be standing outside. Patience is key. Wait.”

You dropped the paper in shock. It wasn’t signed, but you didn’t need that to know who sent you this. You calmed your breath. It was just a letter. There was nothing to worry about. Just ignore it, and he’ll forget about it. You told yourself, as you grabbed it and threw it in the bin. You already had enough on your mind, this was nothing to worry about.

A week goes by, and there’s no letter in your mailbox. You’re finally able to relax. It had been almost two months since Edward was imprisoned. You weren’t the hottest thing in town anymore, and the news had gone back to normal. You were relieved that you could focus on your job again. On Thursday you checked your mail as you came home from a walk with the dogs. Expecting anything, but still getting surprised when you saw the letter from Arkham. You looked around. Scanning the halls of your apartment complex. You didn’t know why, but this whole thing made you feel uneasy. You hurriedly walked into your flat, feeling your heart rate go up by the second. This time the writing was more intense.

“Y/n

Why are you not answering me? I’ve given you time, you have to give me time. Don’t ignore me. Wait for me. Just wait.”

He was getting angry. A million thoughts went through your head, as a knot formed in your stomach. What did he mean by wait? Wait for him? You could either let this letter slide as well, or call the police. You calmed yourself down, and laughed at your own thought. It’s literally just a letter. He can’t hurt you, he’s behind bars. You’re not in danger, so why would you even think about calling the police? He’s probably just bored. You knew he had a temper, but it was harmless. At least he always was harmless towards you. You rubbed your eyes, feeling tired. Him sending you letters wasn’t anything to worry about, you told yourself. It wasn’t until a week later you realised that it was taking a turn. Numerous letters with short messages started arriving almost every day.

“Answer me.”

“I need you.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can stay away from you.”

“I’m sorry.”

The short letters never failed to give you chills. He was usually so talkative. Only one sentence was rare from him.

It wasn’t until a Friday night that you understood how serious he was. Your hands were shaking as you read the three sentence letter over and over. Hoping that you’ve read something wrong. But you haven’t, it’s right there. In black and white.

“I know where you live, y/n. I’m coming. Just wait.”

This was starting to get out of hand, you decided. You didn’t want to call the police before. Just to not disturb them with a few creepy letters. But now, you felt as if your life was in danger. You grabbed your phone. Starting to dial the emergency number, but suddenly stopped. A knock at the door. You froze. Was it him? No, it couldn’t be. He’s in Arkham! You pulled yourself together. Still holding your phone close to you, as you stepped closer and closer to the door. You peaked out the peeping hole. No one. With a quick exhale you opened the door. Looking around for whoever knocked on your door at this time. You looked to the right, seeing no one. Before you got pushed back into your own flat. You let out a yelp, as the door slammed shut in front of you. And there he stood. His tall frame towering over you. This was the moment you’d been dreading for the last months. Meeting him again.

“Hello, y/n. Long time, no see.”

He said as he walked closer to you. His loose fitting orange and white clothes almost glowing in the dim lit apartment. You backed away from him, feeling your breath getting heavier.

“No, no. Baby, don’t back away from me.”

He sounded desperate. Like he needed you. You looked behind you. Seeing the wall getting closer and closer. Soon you would have to be near him.

“Stay away from me.”

You said calmly. He tutted, shaking his head slightly.

“Don’t say that. I know you don’t mean it.”

You reached the wall, now locked in a corner. His face turned into a smile. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted. Your phone received a message and lit up. You looked over at it, and shortly he did as well. Before he could turn back, you threw yourself down at the floor without thinking. Feeling despair and fright fill your body. Acting on your instincts only. You crawled over trying to reach the phone. But right before you could, a strong grip formed around your hair. Pulling you close to a firm body. You screamed in pain. His free arm slipped around your waist. Holding you in place. You tried your best to struggle against him.

“Stop it, y/n.”

He said strictly. You continued regardless, feeling his grip around your hair tightening even more. Now fighting to get away from him. The phone was irrelevant at that point. But you had to stop, afraid that he’d actually pull your hair out. Shivers went down your spine, as you heard him smiling behind you. He bowed down, engulfing his face in your hair. Slightly moaning at the scent.

“At last, we’re finally together.”

He whispered in your ear.

“Don’t hurt me.”

His hand left your hair, and hooked under your arm and over your shoulder. You quickly placed your hand over his forearm. Afraid that he would try to choke you.

“I could never hurt you, my love.”

You were trying your best to not cry.

“Edward, please. I don’t- I don’t understand.”

He sighed, letting go of you and getting up.

“Stay still.”

Too afraid to do anything else, you complied. He walked over to your phone, now with a broken screen. He looked at the message you had received.

“It’s just your sister.”

He asked, placing the phone in his pocket. You looked at him confused. How did he know that she was your sister? In your contacts she was just written down by her first name.

“How do you know?”

You asked shortly. He flashed a short smile.

“I know everything about you. I used to stalk you, you know.”

You were sitting on your knees, hands folded. Just like he’d always dreamt. You looked terrified though.

“I used to stand outside your window at night. Seeing you come home from work. All exhausted and worn out. But you still looked beautiful. So beautiful.”

You nodded, adverting your eyes to the floor. You were terrified. Imagining all the things he would’ve seen throughout the years. He stepped slowly over to you again.

“Look at me.”

You looked at his shoes instead. Studying them like they were a work of art.

“I said look.”

He grabbed your jaw harshly, forcing you to look up at him.

“This is the man you’ve created, y/n. You sent me to Arkham. You made me a criminal. Why would you testify against me? I thought we had a connection.”

His hand loosened up. Now caressing your cheeks, feeling your smooth skin.

“I thought it was you and I.”

“There was never a you and I. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You grew confidence out of the blue. Having a feeling that he actually wouldn’t harm you.

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t feel it.”

“I’m not pretending. I am a professional, it was my job to listen to you. It’s not my fault that you turned into a-“

You made the crucial mistake of raising your voice at him. And was suddenly met with a hard slap against your cheek. You looked away from him, still in shock. Tears prickled at the back of your eyelids. You had to step lightly.

“Look what you’ve done to me. Now I’m a woman beater as well!”

He screamed. Your heart was beating probably the fastest it ever had. You looked back to him.

“Let’s talk about this ok?”

You said in a calm voice. Your hand slid up his thigh. His chest started heaving at your touch.

“We can talk, just like we did before.”

He looked down at you with half open eyes. Asking, no, daring you to continue.

“Please Edward. We don’t need to solve things with harshness.”

Your hand was awfully close to his already visible bulge. And he let out a satisfied sigh as your hand went over it. The feeling he had been waiting for for years. You understood what you had to do, as you reached for the button of his trousers.

“Stop.”

He suddenly said. You looked concerned up at him. Scared of what he was going to say next. He squatted down to be at your level, grabbing your chin.

“As much as I love your beautiful mouth, I need to fuck something else. I need to feel you.”

You let out a shaky breath at his words. Never had you heard him say anything like that. A mental conflict appeared on your head. Why did you find it attractive? He’s a psychopath, a murderer. But still you could feel your body reacting to him. He grabbed your hand and helped you up from the floor. He pushed you over to the kitchen. Shoving away the stuff from the counter, making everything fall down with a loud bang. He pressed your face down onto the counter, and you immediately arched your back. Excited to see this part of him. He didn’t strike you as such a dominant man. He pressed himself against your ass, and leant over to whisper in your ear.

“Stay still.”

You nodded, and he went back up. Undressing you hastily. Once your entire lower half was uncovered, he started working on his own clothes. As fast as he could, desperate to finally be able to feel you. After so many years of lusting after you. He stroked himself a few times before pushing into you. Not giving you any time to adjust to his size, and starting a rapid, punishing speed. You moaned as he started hitting into you. Feeling your walls clench around him. You grabbed the counter, needing some sort of stability.

“Fuck- you’re so tight.”

He said as he grabbed your hips. So harshly that he was sure you’d get bruises.

“I’ve wanted you like this for such a long time.”

He continued to speak. You were unable to answer him, being fucked like no one ever had fucked you before. He suddenly slapped your ass.

“Spreading your legs for me like a whore.”

He moaned after that sentence, as you clenched around him again.

“You like that, huh?”

You nodded, feeling a tear slide down your chin. He grabbed your hair, pulling you close to his body. Still fucking into you like an animal.

“Use your words, baby. I wanna hear that pretty voice.”

He started kissing your neck from behind, still holding your hair in a tight knot.

“Yes, please-“

You could feel him smile against you.

“Please what?”

You weren’t able to form words again. The new position making him hit your spot over and over.

“Say it.”

He demanded. He reached down your body and started rubbing your clit. Another wave of pleasure flew through you.

“Please fuck me, Edward. Just like that.”

You answered. And it clearly pleased him, as he started going even faster.

“I’m going to fill this tight fucking pussy up, baby.”

You felt yourself getting closer and closer.

“I’m coming-“

You managed to say, before your entire body tensed up. As the orgasm hit you.

“Me too, baby”

He said as well, before releasing inside you. The two of you filled the room with moans and cries as you rode out your orgasms. Once finished he pulled out, tucking himself back in. You needed a few moments to recover, and fell back down onto the counter. He leaned over you again.

“You look beautiful like this.”

He said and brushed your hair away from your face. You gave him a short tired smile, and he kissed your forehead.

“I would love to stay the night, but I have places to be. They should be looking for me.”

He got off you and started walking away. You turned around.

“Wait, are you leaving?”

You asked, not sure why you were so opposed to the idea. He’s a criminal, the faster he gets out of your house, the better. But for some reason you wanted him there. He gave you a short smile, before walking over to the door.

“Just answer your mail please.”

#paul dano #dano!riddler #paul dano x reader #paul dano x you #the riddler #riddler #the batman 2022 #the riddler x reader #dano!riddler x reader #the riddler x you #dano!riddler x you #the riddler 2022 #edward nashton x reader #edward nigma x reader #edward nashton #edward nashton x you #paul dano the riddler #riddler x you #riddler x reader #dano riddler #riddler fanfic #request

[auspicious-manner]

Hi, could you write a bit angsty mike faist x reader where they are in relationship and reader thinks that she isn' enough pretty/fit for him, because he is a dancer and an actor? And mike comforts her about that?

i’m sorry for the slow updates, life has been so busy but i’m still around, just working at a slower pace!

this story was a hard one for me to write. not because i had writers block, but because i related deeply to some of the content in this one. i’ve struggled with body dysmorphia, overthinking, and anxiety before, and this story resonates with me and probably so many others as well. i wanted to approach it in a way that would make me feel comforted if i was actively struggling with these issues.

female reader x mike faist

warnings: anxiety, body dysmorphia, harassment from men, rude comments about body, panic attack

Perfect to Me

•

as humans, we have complex emotions and moods that sometimes seem to make zero sense whatsoever. sometimes they can be positive feelings, like love and joy. sometimes they can be negative, like jealousy and resentment. however bad or good, these emotions make us human, and are completely normal.

at least, that’s what Y/N told herself everyday. she hoped that if she kept repeating that mindset in her brain, it would start to become the truth. her mind was intricate, and her thoughts would sometimes spiral out of control. these thoughts only elevated when she met her boyfriend. all day every day, she was a conflicting mix of proud and in love, while also being down and disappointed.

Y/N couldn’t begin to find the words to describe her boyfriend, mike faist. he was everything to her. he had made a name for himself, and he was the epitome of a triple threat. she had met him shortly after he joined the cast of “dear evan hansen” on broadway, and they quickly became close. a year later, they began to date, and since they made it official two years ago, Y/N had an ongoing inner battle with herself.

mike was a star. he was the most talented person she knew. and Y/N? she didn’t think of herself as anything more than just a girl. every day, she questioned why mike chose her out of the millions of girls he could have had.

she lived with him in new york city, and worked as a paid intern at the headquarters of an up and coming fashion company. when her schedule allowed, she would visit him while on set or at a stage production of his.

one morning, she had to wake up early for a business meeting at the office, and the alarm on her smart watch woke her up at exactly six in the morning. Y/N’s eyes shot open, and she saw that mike was still fast asleep at her side. she slowly wriggled her way out of his grasp as to not wake him, stopping every few seconds to make sure he was still asleep. finally, her feet touched the cold wood below her and she peered outside her apartment window to see the sun rising above the city.

she went to the bathroom and glanced over her average features in the mirror. her once defined facial structures were starting to fall, her hips were wide, her stomach wasn’t completely flat, and her arms were looking extra big today. Y/N sighed, her feelings weighing heavily on her conscience.

she got dressed for work, putting on a tight skirt with a long sleeved blouse tucked in. she looked over herself, and saw that the fabric closely hugged her curves.

Y/N tried to sneak around mike who was still sleeping as best she could. however, when she dropped her phone on the ground in the bedroom resulting in the loudest thud possible, he shot up from bed.

“are you okay?” he asked groggily. “i heard something fall.”

Y/N frowned. “sorry mike, i just dropped my phone.”

“are you leaving?” mike asked, still squinting at her as his eyes adjusted to the morning light.

“yeah, but i’ll be back around four today.”

“okay, i’ll be home at about six. have a good day at work,” he said as Y/N walked over to the bed and leaned down to give mike a kiss.

“i’ll try. you have a good day too.”

“i love you, Y/N.”

“i love you too, mike,” she responded before leaving.

she walked out of the apartment complex and down the streets of new york to the office where she worked, which was only a few blocks away. she entered the building, being greeted by the smell of coffee, fabric, and paper. Y/N went straight to her boss’s office to collect her tasks for the day.

she knocked on his door gently before hearing a grisly “come in” from the other side. she opened it and saw her boss, named henry beauford.

beauford wasn’t known for being a kind boss. he often subjected his workers to unpaid overtime and overworking, and was unnecessarily harsh on those who worked every day to make his company grow. Y/N was afraid of him, considering one wrong move would have her blacklisted from any other fashion company in new york.

he had old, sunken eyes, and a taste for stylish suits. his hair was fading from a dull brown to a light grey, and his cheek bones remained chiseled despite his age.

beauford looked up from his desk and eyed Y/N. “good morning. i have to start our meeting in roughly…” he started, glancing at his watch. “ten minutes. go get me and anyone else here that wants coffee some coffee. i want my usual.”

Y/N nodded and quickly left the room, making her way to the coffee station on the second floor. on her way, she got four more orders to make.

she began pouring the hot coffee into cups, but was interrupted when she felt a tap on her shoulder. she turned around and saw a coworker of hers named jesse.

jesse was constantly talking to her and flirting, despite Y/N’s best attempts to shoo him away. she mentioned to him that she had a boyfriend multiple times, yet he still went after her. she was not in the mood to deal with the likes of him today.

“hey Y/N, how has your morning gone?” he asked smoothly.

“just fine, thanks jesse.”

he paused. “tomorrow night, i was going to go out to dinner with friends, but my date flaked on me. i need someone by my side for the dinner, want to come with me?” jesse asked with a smile.

“no thank you.”

“come on, i’ll pay,” he persisted.

“i said no,” Y/N said, harsher this time.

jesse’s smile fell. “i’m surprised your boyfriend hasn’t broken up with you, you aren’t necessarily all that beautiful. he could do much better, and you know it. but you’d be perfect for me. i don’t need a perfect girl.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. she knew jesse was right; mike could do so much better. however, hearing it aloud was a whole new feeling for her.

“i-i’m going to go deliver my coffees.”

she ran off, leaving jesse in the dust. she made her rounds in the office, taking her time delivering the coffees to the various employees. finally, on her last stop, she made it to beauford’s once again.

she knocked, and when the familiar “come in” sounded, Y/N entered to find beauford and jesse having a conversation. as soon as she stepped foot into the room, their eyes fell on her in a cold as ice way.

“i-is something wrong?” Y/N asked nervously, resting the cup on his desk.

beauford looked her up and down. “yes, actually. there is,” he started. jesse was smiling devilishly at the look on Y/N’s face.

“jesse brought to my attention that your outfit isn’t exactly… office appropriate,” beauford stated.

Y/N squinted her eyes. “what? this is perfectly within the dress code.”

“the clothes themselves are, but they hug your body a bit too tight. we can see all of your curves.”

Y/N looked down. she wasn’t big, but she definitely was not skinny. the curves on her stomach and hips were what she was most insecure about, and her clothes apparently highlighted the natural curvature of her body too much.

she wasn’t having any of it. “so if a skinny girl wore this outfit, it would be okay?”

“precisely. that’s why i’m going to send you home for a few days to hopefully get rid of a few of those curves.”

Y/N’s face fell from a look of anger to a look of pure horror and embarrassment. tears welled up in her eyes, and jesse sent her a sly smile. he was behind all of this because he was tired of being rejected.

at this point, her mind was completely torn on what to do. half of her wanted to fight it, give them a piece of her mind. then again, she wanted this job. it was her dream to design clothes, and this job could get her there.

Y/N gulped, trying to ignore the lump in her throat and the red on her cheeks. “okay, i’m sorry. see you in a few days.”

she turned around and walked out, holding back the tears that were trying so desperately to make an appearance.

as Y/N walked home, it felt like the streets of new york were spinning. her mind was dazed, and it felt like that until she unlocked the door to her and mike’s apartment and closed herself inside.

when she made it inside, she burst into tears. she had never felt so humiliated, torn down, and embarrassed. and the worst part was that she knew what they said was right.

Y/N ran to the bathroom and viewed herself in the mirror. her curves were very much present, and her puffy eyes added to the disillusion that she was anything less than beautiful. she continued sobbing and slid her back against the door.

her breathing was becoming irregular, and her tears slowed when she began to hyperventilate. she reached for her phone to call mike, but there was no reply.

“mike, please!” she yelled, trying it again. her heart rate quickened, and she continued gasping for air.

she tried and tried again, but stopped when she remembered that mike probably didn’t want anything to do with her. she was nothing, and he was something. he shouldn’t have to console Y/N in a moment like this.

she laid down on the floor, hoping to stop the pain in her chest and her headache. the panic attack made her feel like she needed to pass out. then, Y/N felt her body disassociate until everything went black, and she was out cold.

Y/N’s eyes slowly fluttered open, and she saw the ceiling above her. she felt the cold tile underneath her body, and she couldn’t remember why she was laying on the ground. however, she felt like she had a long, much needed nap.

she checked the time, which was five o’clock. she couldn’t believe she had slept for that long.

she knew that mike would be home in an hour. when Y/N saw a message from her boss about what day she would be coming back to work and missed calls from mike, all of what had happened in the morning came flooding back to her.

her lip quivered, and she gently cried once again. this cry wasn’t a panicked, heart-wrenching sob like her previous one was. this one was slower, more melancholic.

she sat her back against the wall and cried it out. she thought about how much she hated her appearance, and how much she felt like a disappointment compared to her boyfriend. she almost felt it’d be easier to break up with him before she got even more attached to someone she knew she shouldn’t have.

the time flew by, and before she knew it, the familiar sound of mike unlocking their apartment door came from outside the closed bathroom door. Y/N’s tears halted for a moment before continuing when she heard his footsteps.

“Y/N, i’m home,” mike announced, worry already present in his voice. Y/N tried to give a reply, but no words came out.

“Y/N? where are you? i received so many missed calls from you today.” he questioned.

finally, Y/N croaked a harsh “in here.”

the footsteps quickened, and there was a knock at the door before mike pulled open the door. he looked around and saw a hunched over Y/N pressed against the wall, still in her work clothes and eyes puffy from crying.

“oh my god Y/N, what happened?” mike asked, bending down in front of her. the concern in his voice made Y/N begin crying again. he placed his hands on her arms comfortingly.

Y/N sighed and stood up. mike stood up too, and she turned her back to him.

“what’s wrong? did i do something?” he asked, his voice getting more confused by the second.

she shook her head. “n-no. it’s not you, it’s me.”

mike frowned. “what-?”

“today at work, a male coworker of mine was fed up with me not giving him a chance. he went to my boss, and he made up a dress code rule and sent me home to lose a few pounds. all because my outfit hugged my curves too tight.”

mike turned red with anger, and his face scrunched up. “that’s it, those men can’t treat you like this. that’s ridiculous.”

mike’s face softened when he realized there was something deeper going on. “Y/N don’t let those men get to you. they don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“but the thing is they’re right,” she exclaimed, mike’s heart breaking with every word. she took a pause. “they’re right. i’m not as skinny as i could be, i’m not all that pretty, and i’m boring. and you? you’re amazing. you’re doing big things and i’m just kind of… there. you can do so much better, mike. so much better. you deserve someone good.”

mike stared back at her, and Y/N swore she saw a glimmer of tears in his eyes. he stepped closer to her. “is that really what you think?”

Y/N nodded and cried harder. “yes.”

mike wrapped her in a hug, but she didn’t hug back. she loved the feeling of being close to him, but the more distant she could be, the easier it would be to break things off.

mike pulled away, his arms lingering around her. he took his hands and wiped away her tears.

“mike, i don’t want to grow more attached than i already am. you need to go find someone else, i’m holding you back,” she pleaded.

mike pressed his hands against her cheeks and tilted her head up to make her look him in the eyes.

“i fell in love with you for a reason. do you know why?”

Y/N shook her head, and mike continued. “i fell in love with you because i didn’t like the idea of being with someone just like me. i like having a humble, regular girl. you aren’t flashy, you aren’t loud, you’re simply you. and that’s enough for me.” he removed a hand and gently used his other thumb to rub her cheek.

“but i-”

“let me finish,” mike interrupted. “you’re ambitious, brave, strong, cool, smart, and so much more. you complete me and ground me more than anyone. you keep me sane in the busiest of times. you help me so much more than you’d ever know. i need you, Y/N.”

“are you sure?” she asked innocently.

mike smiled. “i’ve always been sure. you’re perfect in my eyes, sweetheart, and i’ve always known you’re the one for me. you’re beautiful inside and out.”

“who told you i was perfect?” she asked, a small smile on her lips.

“no one had to tell me. you just are.”

Y/N leaned her head into his chest and cried some more. mike rested his hand behind her head, and wrapped the other one around her back.

she sniffled. “i’m sorry.”

“for what? you have nothing to apologize for,” mike consoled.

“i’m sorry for being obnoxious about this. today just sucked, really bad.”

“it’s my job as your boyfriend to keep you happy, safe, and comfortable. i would do this for you at any time,” he said quietly, trying not to cry in response to Y/N’s endless tears.

they stayed in their hug in the bathroom until Y/N calmed down. for her, she needed this love, and she couldn’t fathom the thought of breaking things off with him anymore. he was her rock.

#mike faist #mike faist imagine #mike faist x reader #mike faist fanfiction

[babyjamiebarnes]

Oh my gawdfddddddd i cant wait to see who steve thinks it is. I love your writing ❤❤❤❤❤❤

thank you!!! 🥺 I think it’ll be revealed in the last part so hold on a bit longer lol it looks like there will be two more parts and maybe an epilogue? and I’m hoping to get the next part posted tomorrow!!

#I’ve been busy at work and have writers block outside of that so I’m struggling 🥴 #I know what’s going to happen but I can’t make words #but tysm for reading 🥺 #scarletraine

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Reid My Lips - Spencer Reid x fem! Reader

A/N - on the twelth and FINAL day of shipmas fortheloveofcriminalminds gave to me…Spencer x Reader Fluff! Hope you guys enjoyed them, I had a lot of fun writing these! Find my Shipmas masterlist here. Find my full masterlist here.

My taglists are open for Spencer x Reader and all works so let me know if you want to be added. Requests are also open.

Requested: Yes l No l Kind of ?

Idea came from @andiebeaword as I was struggling to come up with something that wasn't either angsty or smutty! - "What about one where they're dating, but haven't kissed yet, and every time reader tries, for some bizarre reason, Spencer keeps dodging them. reader thinks he's trying a subtle way to say he doesn't want to kiss when in reality, he just doesn't want reader to think he's a bad kisser" - Set circa s15, some spoilers for the last 2 episodes.

CW: none that I can think of! Just lusting after Spencer's lips. Some talks of Spencer's insecurites and lack of experience.

Plot: In which all the reader wants in the world is to feel Spencer's lips on hers.

WC: 2.4K

—————————————————————

Spencer Reid’s lips were the kind they would have written poetry about.

They were plump, sinfully so, the first time you’d met him several years ago when you joined the team it was the first thing you’d noticed about him. How it didn’t seem fair for him have had lips such as these bestowed upon him. He had the most kissable lips you’d ever seen in your life.

If you were a writer and not a profiler, you may well have tried to write a poem about them. But alas, a wordsmith you were not. So you had to make do with just staring at them every available opportunity you got.

When he’d finally plucked up the courage to ask you on a date after six years of working together you were thrilled to say the least. Finally, after all that time imaging what those lips would feel like, you might actually get to see for yourself.

For your first date Spencer took for you dinner at a fancy restaurant. Despite the fact you had known each other so long, the date was awkward.

Usually, you never struggled to find things to talk to Spencer about. Most of the time while the rest of the team were sleeping on the jet the two of you stayed up chatting aimlessly between you.

But somehow when the word date was used, it made everything uncomfortable between the two of you.

The night started as a long, drawn out silence but thankfully you both eased into it and by the time your main courses came you were able to chat a little more freely.

You’d had dinner together countless times over the years. But that was just as friends. Not as two people who were clearly attracted to one another even though deep down that’s what you’d always been.

Spencer walked you home after dinner. It was a mild night and you didn’t live too far from the restaurant so you thought the walk would be nice.

The first few blocks you fell back into that uncomfortable silence but thankfully you found your voices again.

Despite everything, you’d had a great time and you’d hoped Spencer had too.

As you stood awkwardly on the sidewalk outside your apartment you were desperate for him to kiss you. He wasn’t quite so shy and dorky as he had been when you first met so you’d thought he might make the first move.

He did not.

“Goodnight Y/N. I’ll see you Monday.” He offered you one of his shy waves.

No, this would not do. You’d been dreaming about those lips too long. It was time to do something about it.

You moved in close, your eyes closing as you neared his lips.

But what met your lips wasn’t his own. You felt prickly skin and your eyes shot open to see her had turned his head and your lips had landed on his stubble grazed face.

“Uhm…” you stepped back feeling incredibly uncomfortable. “Goodnight then I guess.”

You chalked it up to shyness. You guessed thirty plus years of insecurities couldn’t be washed away in a three month prison stint.

***

The next time an opportunity presented itself to steal a kiss from Spencer was a few weeks later.

You were out of town on a case and he’d invited you to his room to watch Doctor Who. You’d thought or maybe hoped it was just an excuse to get you alone in his room. You were surprised to say the least when he actually wanted to watch Doctor Who.

You sat side by side on his bed watching the small hotel TV. You dared to shuffle your hand closer until your fingers brushed and eventually you’d taken the plunge and entwined your fingers.

He didn’t seem to mind, he just gave your hand a firm squeeze as he held it.

About half way through the episode you decided to go for the kiss. You were desperate to feel those lips on yours and you hoped whatever awkwardness he felt on your date had since washed away.

You turned to face him, momentarily breathless at how beautiful he was.

“Spence,” you whispered prompting him to turn and face you.

He had a dopey half smile on those lips as he looked at you. You moved quickly, closing the space ready to feel those lips.

But once again you were met with his stubbly cheek.

You tried to tell yourself he was shy. That’s all it was. It’s not that he didn’t want to kiss you. It couldn’t be, right?

***

You’d started to think maybe Spencer had changed his mind about the two of you dating. It had been several weeks since your first date and although you’d been busy with back to back cases there had been time if he’d really wanted to take you out again.

It was nearly a month after your first date he finally asked you on a second. You’d jumped at the opportunity.

Spencer took you to the Smithsonian, you’d walked around hand in hand with Spencer telling you all kinds of facts and statistics the institution didn’t share.

You hung off his every word, mesmerised by the way his lips moved as he talked and wanting to feel them on yours with a white hot passion.

He took you for coffee after and you fell into comfortable conversation. But you couldn’t keep your eyes off those goddamn lips of his.

As you stepped out of the coffee shop hand in hand you made a quick move to place a chaste kiss on his lips as he was in the middle of telling you a story about his mom. You thought if you were fast enough he wouldn’t even see it coming and you could just get this awkward air out of the way.

You leant in fast, and as your lips were about to collide Spencer side stepped, turning to face the window of the coffee shop.

You stumbled, correcting yourself before you fell face first on the sidewalk.

“I didn’t know they had donuts! Now I want a donut.” He chuckled and suddenly he was heading back inside.

“Goddamnit Spencer.” You groaned under your breath.

By now you were starting to think he just didn’t like you. Why else would he keep dodging your attempts at kissing him?

You felt downtrodden. You felt insecure. Why on Earth had he asked you out if he didn’t want to kiss you?

***

Six dates in and all you’d done still was hold hands. You really didn’t get him. He kept asking you out but never seemed interested in doing anything other than hand holding.

You liked Spencer, a lot, but you were not willing to be in a relationship where there was no kind of intimacy.

But that was all pushed to the back of your mind when you and JJ found Spencer passed out in his apartment.

He’d been involved in an explosion thanks to the psychopath Everett Lynch. He was late for work the following day which was really unlike Spencer so you and JJ went to check on him. That’s when you’d found him.

While the rest of the team worked on finding Lynch, you stayed vigil at his bedside.

When he’d finally woken up tears streamed down your face and you’d be up like a shot.

“Oh my god Spence,” you sobbed. “I thought I was going to lose you.” You leant in to kiss his chapped lips.

He rolled his head to the side on the pillow, once again your lips meeting stubbly skin.

“I’m really thirsty.” He croaked, seemingly ignoring your actions.

You swallowed your pride with a sigh.

“I’ll get you some water Spence.” And with your tail between your legs you left the room in search of hydration.

***

After that you’d decided no more. You were fed up feeling a fool every time you tried to make a move on him only to be shot down.

So you decided you wouldn’t bother anymore.

Since he left hospital the two of you still hung out but it was less frequent as usual and the word date was never used again.

One night, it came to a head.

You were in Spencer’s apartment watching some foreign film which you were struggling to comprehend despite the subtitles.

Your mind was whirring, lost down a rabbit hole of thoughts of you and Spencer. You were so preoccupied in your own head you didn’t even notice when Spencer scooted closer to you or put his arm around your shoulders.

“Y/N?” He whispered your name, snapping you out of the abyss.

“Hmm?” You turned to face him.

His tongue glided over his bottom lip and his eyes were trained on your lips.

The next few seconds happened in slow motion. Spencer started edging closer to you, his eyes fluttering closed and his lips pursed.

And you turned your head to face the TV, allowing his lips to hit your cheek the way yours had to him so many times.

He made a strange noise that sounded halfway between a sigh and a groan. You tried to pretend you were focused on the TV. You felt his eyes on the side of your face and you tried to ignore it.

After a few minutes Spencer paused the film, the room falling silent. You swallowed a lump in your throat and slowly turned to face him.

“Why’d you stop the film?” you hoped your voice didn’t sound as shaky as you thought it did.

“I think we need to talk.” Spencer chewed his lip. “I think I need to explain why I’ve been so...weird.”

“Spencer, trust me when I say you being weird is not an unusual thing.” you tried to lighten the mood.

“Weirder than usual then.” he was fidgeting in his seat, wringing his hands together in his lap.

“I hadn’t noticed.” you lied.

“Yes you have.” he told you.

“Look Spence,” you sighed. “If you don’t want to kiss me I get it. But why would you ask me out if that’s not what you wanted?” the words spilled out of your mouth.

He nodded his understanding at your words, running one hand through his messy locks.

“I do want to kiss you Y/N.” his cheeks stained red with embarrassment. “I’ve always wanted to kiss you, since the first time I met you. Jeez, kissing is just the tip of the iceberg of things I want to do with you.” his blush deepened.

Your chest tightened at his words, a twinge passing between your legs.

“You uhm...you have a funny way of showing it.” your voice was breathy. You didn’t mean it to be.

“I know.” he nodded, gnawing his bottom lip. “I freaked myself out. I got in my head and I panicked and I didn’t know how to deal with that. So I dealt with it really, really badly and I’m sorry.”

“What were you freaking out about Spence?”

He sighed heavily, the blush still straining his cheeks.

“It took me six years to finally work up the courage to ask you out.” he laughed shyly. “But when I finally did, I was terrified I wouldn’t be good enough.”

Your face dropped, sadness in your eyes.

“Spencer,” you reached for him and took hold of his hand. It was sweating and shaking.

He shook his head sadly, telling you not to try and convince him otherwise.

“Y/N, I am not...not so great with women in case you’d never picked up on that.” he chuckled again, but again it was a shy sound. “I don’t ha-have...so much ex-experience.” he swallowed hard. “There have only been...a few...women. Not enough to make me an...ex-expert in any sense.” he swallowed again. “I just wanted to be...good...for you.”

“Oh Spencer,” you felt tears in your eyes. You had no idea he’d been going through this mental turmoil. “Spencer I don’t care. I’ve wanted you for six years. Trust me, there is no way in hell you will not be good enough. I am crazy about you Spence, and all I want in the whole right now is to kiss you. I have waited too long to know what those lips would-”

He cut you off when his lips suddenly crashed against yours.

You let out a small whimper as those plump lips of his finally kissed you. They felt better than your wildest imagination.

The whimper allowed Spencer to slide his tongue in your mouth. He held your face in his large hands, exploring your mouth with fervor.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

It was without a doubt the single most magical experience of your life. Nothing could have prepared you for how good his kiss would be.

It sent goosebumps flaring across your skin, making your chest tighten with lust.

It made you wet between your legs.

Maybe you should take a writing class because these lips, this kiss, definitely deserved poems written about them.

Your whole body felt as though it were on fire, every nerve ending in your body tingling with desire.

When the kiss ended you both gasped for air, trying to satiate your now empty lungs.

Spencer’s cheeks stained red again as he waited for your reaction shyly.

“I hope that was o-ok.” He stuttered a little.

You couldn’t help the large smile that broke out across your face.

“Spencer Reid, that was more than ok. It was perfect.”

His blush deepened and he looked away from you briefly before finding your eyes once more.

“Good.” He swallowed. “Because there’s a lot more I want to do with you Y/N.”

His words made you shudder.

“Now?” You swallowed, feeling oddly nervous.

“Right now.” He nodded before taking your face in his hands and kissing you again.

He was going to show exactly what his lips could do. And those poems practically wrote themselves between the sheets.

—————————————————————

Taglist -

@muffin-cup

@andiebeaword

@mggsprettygirl

@measure-in-pain

@ptrs-prkrs

#12 days of shipmas #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair 

Chapter 27: Fraser Publishing Part 2

Summary: Claire and Jamie finish out their day at work

Read on AO3

Read chp 27 on tumblr below the cut

Previous, master list, next

a/n: A huge thank you to my friend @isthisclever (/isthiscleverr on twitter ;) ) for being an amazing beta for this chapter and also dealing with my writer's block/overall overthinking <3. Go check out her story "The Other Side," which one of my favs and is almost completed, ahh! While you're at it, maybe just stalk her whole AO3 page.

Thank you so much for your patience, lovely readers. I managed to get past the writer's block, and this 5k if what just sorta happened after a month of not writing. Hope you like it!!

*

Chapter 27: Fraser Publishing Part 2

The air felt heavy despite the fresh scents and slight breeze. Hand in hand with Claire, Jamie walked slowly around the trail that wound its way in a meandering circle around the park. If he was being honest, he was stalling, trying to give them both time to gather themselves before going back to Fraser Publishing. Jamie couldn't ignore the grief tugging at his insides, but he forced it down deep, praying that Claire couldn’t feel it from where she held onto his hand like it was her lifeline. 

Oh Christ, if she could feel how his grief was eating him up inside...

A cloud hung over them for a long while, but Jamie was trying his best to reassure Claire with comforting touches and sweet words.Gradually, her face began to lift, and he caught sight of the spark of his faerie beneath the sheen of guilt and lost potential blanketing her face. It was still clearly on her mind, though, and Jamie couldn’t shake the discomfort that he was trying to shove itself forward from the pit of his stomach and the back of his mind. 

It was well past lunchtime and when he should have taken her back, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to force her to go inside when she still seemed so… off.

Apparently that was the right decision because at one random moment, Claire stopped him and abruptly pulled him into a hug. 

“What was that for, my wee faerie?” Jamie asked, brushing a few stray curls away from her forehead after holding her for a long moment. 

“I love you,” she said simply. 

There clearly was more on her mind. In that moment, he didn’t know whether to push her or to leave her be. He tilted his head down, catching her gaze, praying silently that he was making the right decision. 

“What’s botherin’ ye, a leannan?” he asked. He slipped his fingers under her chin and lifted her face higher so he could press a soft kiss to her lips. 

“I just..” she started, but cut herself off to take a deep breath. “I just… I don’t know how to tell you how I’m feeling, Jamie. I’m sad. But also I’m so, so happy. I want to be with you, be happy with you—” she tugged on his hand which was still gripping hers “—forever. I just… want it to last, I suppose?” 

“It will, Sassenach,” he assured in an exhale. “It will, lass. 

“I,” her eyes filled with unshed tears, and Jamie wished he could take them all in the palm of his hand and keep them from spilling from her eyes. She didn’t cry, though, just blinked watery eyes up at him. “I know we haven’t talked much about… the rest of our lives… but— talking about not having babies today just made me think. Maybe... maybe I’m not meant to be forever for you?” 

Jamie’s heart dropped below his toes, sinking down through the grass beneath his feet and likely down into the very core of the earth. He could barely force the words out through his suddenly raw throat when he asked shakily, “Do… do you no’ want that, Claire?” 

She shook her head so violently that the curls swished back and forth over her face. The expression of horror at the question eased Jamie considerably, and her answer fully assuaged the rest of the rising panic. 

“I do want that, Jamie. From the second I ran to you from that hill I knew it was forever. I love you more than the life that was mine. I just… if that’s not what’s best for you, I wouldn’t take the rest of your life from you. Your dreams.” It was her turn to raise a hand to his face, cupping his cheek with oceans of tender, selfless concern swimming in her eyes. 

“It’s always been forever for me, Sassenach,” he told her firmly, voice low. He believed it with every bone in his body. “And I told you before, I have no life but you, Claire.” 

She blinked, and he could tell she was trying very hard not to break down into tears. 

If he could have, he would have gotten down on one knee and proposed to her then and there. He knew it was forever, and he wanted desperately to share that with her, but there were conversations that needed to be had and preparations to be made before he could.

He let go of her hand and raised both to her face. He held her between his hands, cradling his whole entire world between his palms. Beseeching her to listen, he held her gaze for a long moment. 

“I dinna have to be an empath like you to ken that ye’re still feelin’ guilty, mo ghraidh,” he said. “Please, listen to me. I wouldna tell ye this if it werena true.” He took a breath. “If you could gi’ up yer old life, yer people, yer home… for me... it is nothin’ for me to no’ be able to have biological children. I would trade everything I have to keep ye. Everything. And I wouldna think twice. I want ye forever, Sassenach, whatever that means.” 

Her cheek was so soft under his fingers, and he was startled to find wetness there. He glanced up to her eyes to find that she’d finally lost her control and tears were escaping to roll down her face. 

“Please, dinna cry anymore,” he pleaded, “I canna bear for ye to be in pain.” 

“I’m not crying because I’m sad, Jamie,” she whispered. “I’m crying because I love you.” 

***

Walking back inside Fraser’s Publishing some time later, Claire seemed much more at peace. She no longer visibly waged war inside herself, and Jamie felt like he could finally breathe. The heartache they’d shared was far from over, but at least its troubles for that day could be left outside in the park. 

As they came inside, they were greeted by Mrs. Crook, who immediately beckoned them over to her desk with an eager wave. 

“Claire, darling! I have some homemade cookies I thought ye might like to try…” 

“That’s verra kind, but she has food allergies, Mrs. Crook. She doesna accept food from anyone,” Jamie quickly cut in. 

“Oh, well,” Mrs. Crook looked back toward Claire again. “I saw ye wi’ the Murray weans earlier, dear. Maybe ye would be interested in seein’ some photographs of my darling grandbairns?” 

The woman was clearly desperate to bond with Claire, and Jamie couldn’t help but feel proud to see how much of an impression his lass had made. Claire shot him a quick smile, giving him a nod and a look that said “I’ll be alright.” 

“I’ll meet ye back in my office,” Jamie said, leaning down to press a quick kiss to the top of her curls. 

Before she could even reply to him, Mrs. Crook had snagged her arm and was herding her over to her desk, Claire good-naturedly following while blowing Jamie a kiss. 

Leaving the ladies in peace, Jamie started toward his office. Before he’d even made it out of the reception area, however, he found himself face-to-face with Geneva Dunsany, forcing him to grind to a halt. 

Geneva was one of the lower level staff members in marketing and a relatively new hire. Jamie usually only hired people he knew personally, but John had insisted on her as a favor to her father, a longtime family friend. Jamie didn’t know much about her other than that she was competent enough at her job that he never had to interact much. 

But here in front of him stood the dark-haired lass, her face caked in makeup that was a shade too dark and her fake lashes blinking up at him. 

“I wondered if I might have a moment,” she asked. 

Jamie spared a glance behind him, checking that Claire was alright. Upon seeing her chatting away with Mrs. Crook over a picture on the reception desk (and hopefully not in immediate danger of revealing her secret), he turned back to Geneva. 

“Of course. What can I do for ye?” 

“I had a question about… Well, I thought I might ask you to have a look over some quarterly reports I’ve completed.”

As she was speaking, Jamie shot another look over his shoulder. He couldn’t help but worry about Claire when she wasn’t by his side, and he was impatient to get her tucked safely away in his office so he could finally get some real work done. 

Geneva was clearly displeased by his less than courteous behavior. 

“Mr. Fraser,” she sighed. 

He turned back toward her, reminding himself of his dedication to his company— as distracted as he was, an employee didn’t deserve to be treated like this. 

Geneva was already speaking again. “I was wondering if perhaps later today you could come by my office? Or I could come to yours?” 

“Ms. Dunsany, I’m afraid I’m verra busy at the moment and I’ve lost a fair bit of time already… Perhaps ye could take it up wi’ John instead?” 

“But…” her response faded from his attention as a familiar wee hand suddenly wrapped itself around his bicep and a body pressed flush against his side. 

At Claire’s sudden appearance, Geneva cut herself off mid sentence, her painted mouth falling open into a disgruntled “o.” 

“Hi, my love,” Claire all but purred to Jamie, giving his arm a squeeze. She tugged him slightly downward, enough so that she could stand on her tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek. 

Jamie was left bewildered as one of her hands snaked over to plant itself firmly on the center of his chest and rub back and forth. 

“Hi, mo ghraidh, ehm—” he struggled to find words as Claire gave him another kiss, this time to his shoulder. He could barely focus his mind as it seemed her hands were everywhere at once: stroking his chest, rubbing his arm. What the devil had gotten into her? 

He finally remembered what he was trying to do, and managed out a weak, “This is Geneva, our…” her job title flew out the window as Claire’s hand went from his chest to hook into one of his belt loops on the opposite side, effectively stopping his heart and his brain in one simple motion. 

“Geneva, this is Claire,” the words burst out in a rush with zero brain cells behind them as he desperately tried to fulfill his social duties in the face of his girlfriend’s advances. 

He lowered his head to try to catch a glance at Claire’s face, to make eye contact and glean some sort of clue about what had gotten into her, but he found she wasn’t even looking at him. Instead, her eyes were fixed straight ahead, right on Geneva. 

“Hello,” Geneva said, a hint of disapproval in her voice. She took a step back from them as her eyes flicked up and down. 

“Hello,” Claire replied, but her tone made Jamie start. Never before had he heard his faerie— his joyful, bubbly, loves-everyone-without-discrimination faerie— sound so cold. Her voice was low and steady, without even a hint of smile. 

Jamie’s brain went on high alert as Geneva reached a hand out for a handshake. They had rehearsed this in the car (not that Claire’d had a chance to use it yet with all the hugs she’d been giving out), but Jamie was worried that all the training had gone from her mind when she had apparently lost her marbles. 

However, Claire removed her right hand from where it had been placed over Jamie’s stomach to reach out and clasp Geneva’s while keeping herself firmly glued to Jamie’s side. 

He could feel her stiffen against him the moment the two lasses made contact, and then, as if a rubber band had been snapped, Claire withdrew her hand and turned to Jamie with a jerk.  

“I need something from your… room, darling,” she said forcefully, clearly forgetting the word for office. 

“Of course, a leannan, what do ye—”

Before he could finish getting out his question, Claire was stepping in front of him to drag him away. He allowed himself to be tugged off by his faerie, leaving behind a nonplussed and rather displeased looking Geneva. 

When they got down the hall to his office, Claire all but shoved him inside. Jamie stumbled through as Claire shut the door behind them. He was just beginning to ask, “What the devil has gotten into ye—?” when Claire was suddenly on top of him, her lips claiming his so insistently that it was almost an attack rather than a kiss.

His words were muffled by her lips, and he found himself getting shoved up against a wall as she took his mouth. All protestations died in his throat and her strange behavior was wiped from his mind as her kiss clouded his senses, filling him so entirely. He let her tangle her fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him down to her, and he didn’t resist even as she tugged hard and her tongue swiped into his mouth. 

He was fairly certain that she would be the death of him, but he was more than willing to die of asphyxiation if it meant that her lips wouldn’t leave his. Her mouth pressed hot against his, demanding and consuming. Still, as his lungs screamed for air, and he urgently squeezed her waist where his hands were resting. 

She tore her lips away, gasping for breath, and then stood there, panting. She was quite a sight. Her hair was mussed, lips puffy, and her eyes held a hard look, darker than he’d ever seen them before. 

What the hell?

“What— what was that?” Jamie gasped, barely able to find his breath. Claire had clearly stolen it from him during that heated kiss, right along with his wits and perhaps even his free will.  

“You’re mine,” Claire said hotly, drawing closer again so her body could press against his as she said it. Her eyes blazed as they locked with Jamie, as if daring him to disagree. 

“Of course I’m yours, mo nighean donn, but what brought this on?” 

Claire had been in the process of leaning in to trail a line of kisses down his neck when he spoke, and she halted on her second kiss to draw back with a huff. 

Clearly bothered, she looked almost dangerous as she said in a low voice, “Geneva. She wants you.” 

“What?” it was almost a laugh as Jamie reacted to her claim. 

Claire took a tiny step back so she could properly meet his eyes, and then said, very resolutely, “She does, Jamie. I touched her, I know. I could tell even before I felt it that she wanted you.” 

Jamie’s mouth fell open at this revelation. He knew better than to protest, and upon hearing her confirmation, he realized that Geneva had been rather forward lately, but that didn’t mean she… 

Looking at Claire’s heated expression, it clearly did. His lass was inflamed. Her cheeks were flushed, pupils dilated, and her jaw clenched tightly. 

Jamie couldn’t help it as a smirk began to turn up the corner of his lips and a warm feeling of something akin to satisfaction spread in his chest. 

“So ye’re tellin’ me… that whole scene outside, and then you all but attackin’ me in here… was because ye were jealous?” 

“Well,” Claire shifted on her feet slightly, for the first time in several minutes breaking free from her severe look, “yes. You’re mine, and she—”

“Aye, I’m yers, mo ghraidh, no doubt about it,” he confirmed without hesitation, making sure she knew it was the absolute truth of his heart, “jes’ as ye’re mine.” 

He couldn’t help but smile though as the pieces all fell into place. She’d seen him from across the room and gotten jealous, so she had marched on over to stake her claim on him before demonstrating her power by stealing him away, only to kiss the living daylights out of him. It all made sense now. Her behavior wasn’t random. It was possessive. 

“You’re enjoying this!” Claire exclaimed, looking up at him with an open mouth. She was trying to sound appalled, but he could see the smile she was trying to smother turning up the corners of her lips. 

The laughter bubbled up from his chest, and he grabbed her around the waist to pull her against him as he chuckled. “Ye’re too much, mo nighean donn. And it only makes me love ye more and more.” 

Despite herself, she started laughing too, grabbing his shoulders as he hauled her against him. 

“I suppose it was rather… petty,” she admitted, biting her lip. 

“Mmmm, the way ye kissed me, though. I think I wish more lassies would take a fancy to me jes’ to get that reaction from ye again…”

She smacked him lightly on the chest, but she was still smiling as he leaned down to peck her on the lips. 

“You don’t need silly girls to want you in order to get me to kiss you like that…” Claire teased, standing on her tiptoes so she could hover her lips over his. 

“Oh, is that so? What must I do, then?” 

“Absolutely nothing,” she breathed. 

And then her lips were on his again, and she showed him exactly how little he had to do. 

*

Jamie lost another solid twenty minutes of work time due to the makeout session with Claire that ended up with him pressed against his desk and Claire doing her darndest to make him lose every ounce of self control he’d ever possessed. He’d never been more grateful in his life that his office window had blinds and a locking door. 

As nice as it was to have the very enjoyable attentions of his love, he had wasted so much of the day away already, and there was work to be done. He reluctantly detached his faerie, pulling her away by the waist while she murmured a protest. 

Jamie swiped a thumb over her puffy lips as she pouted at him, resisting the urge to laugh. 

How he loved her with his whole heart. 

“Sorry, Sassenach, I really hafta finish up some work before everyone leaves for the day, and at this rate, I willna ever be able to stop kissin’ ye.” 

She caught his fingers in a quick kiss before she frowned. “I don’t understand why all of you are so caught up with ‘work’,” she commented with distaste. 

“I’m beginnin’ to agree wi’ ye, Sassenach,” Jamie snorted. The temptation to throw everything out the window and pay attention to absolutely nothing save this alluring creature in front of him was nearly enough to drive him mad. But Jamie loved his work, cared about his business, and he had to have some self control— what few scraps remained. 

“Why dinna ye look through some of my books on the shelves while I work? I ken ye canna read the words, but there are some verra beautiful illustrations— uh, pictures, drawings— in some of them.” 

Jamie cursed himself for not bringing adequate entertainment for her. Although, beyond Adso, the space heater, and the garden— well, and him, of course— Jamie wasn’t sure what exactly entertained Claire. 

She agreed with only a brief pout, and Jamie could finally let out the breath he’d been holding when she was safely across the room, browsing the bookshelf. Feeling his heart rate finally descend (was it safe for it to be that elevated for that long?) he settled down in front of his computer. 

He managed to get a good chunk of work done while Claire busied herself with flipping through nearly every book he owned. It turned out that it was an excellent idea, as she seemed well entertained. Every once in a while, Jamie would hear a gasp and have to look up to see the adorable expression of wonder on Claire’s face as she discovered another illustration. It was mainly the kids books, he noticed, that really wowed her. Likely because she could follow the story based on the pictures, and she grew absorbed. Before long, there was a semi-circle of opened books surrounding her on the floor. It warmed him to notice that she never closed them— always leaving them open when she found an illustration she particularly liked, as if she wanted to go back and see it again. 

Despite her fascination and apparent entertainment, it was what felt like a short time later when Jamie was interrupted from deep concentration by a hand sliding up his arm to rest on his shoulder. 

“Claire, what are ye—?” he started, but was cut off when both of her hands smoothed over his shoulders. 

“You’re so tense,” came her smooth voice startlingly close to his ear. 

“Aye,”  he said, rolling his shoulders, “I tend tae carry my stress there when I’m workin.” 

“I don’t want you to be tense.” Her breath tickled his ear, and a shiver rolled down his spine. Warm hands began kneading into his shoulders, digging into the soreness of the muscles. Her touch was the perfect mix of gentle and strong, pulling the tension from his body. He couldn’t help the sigh that fell from his lips. 

Her hands didn’t let up their work, but she sometimes paused to smooth over his shoulders in broad strokes. Without meaning to, his hands fell away from the keyboard and his head tilted back. His eyes were closed in relaxation… when had he closed his eyes? 

He realized distantly that Claire was murmuring soothing words above him. 

“Does that feel good? Let out the tension, darling. There. I’ve got you.”

She hit a particularly tense knot, but the magic of her fingers had it loosening after only a second. 

“Oh Lord,” he breathed, feeling like he was in a trance. “Ye’re so good at this. I—”

His eyes suddenly popped open and he bolted up in his chair, “Christ, lass. Ye’re doin’ yer best tae distract me from my work, are ye no’?” 

“Shhh, don’t worry about it, just relax, my love,” she murmured into his ear, pressing down on his shoulders to get him to sit back in his chair again. 

He was onto her game now, though, and reached up to grab her hand and still her. 

“I have tae work, lass.” 

“I’m not stopping you,” she replied. 

The hand he hadn’t seized stroked over his shoulder. Feeling unequipped to the task of arguing with her, Jamie simply let go and brought his hands back to the keyboard. 

Alright, Fraser. This is a simple game. If you stop giving her attention, she’ll get bored and leave ye be. 

He focused all this attention on the computer screen, ignoring her as she continued her ministrations. It wasn’t the best job, but he managed to type out a few sentences before suddenly there were soft lips tracing the shell of his ear. 

Another shiver ran down his spine, and there was a slight tug of teeth on his earlobe before she kissed it again, soothing the spot with a flutter of breath. 

“Sassenach,” he said in a warning tone. 

“What? I’m not stopping you,” she replied innocently before stooping lower to brush her lips— just barely— down his throat. 

“Ye ken verra well that ye are,” he sighed, the sound turning from frustration to pleasure as she hit a particular spot that made his stomach twist. 

Her fingers were tracing just barely under his shirt, tucking themselves inside the collar. She didn’t seem to be listening, or maybe it was just that she didn’t care, because she refused to respond to the protestation. Instead, she breathed out, “Do you know you have beautiful collarbones?” 

“I didna ken, and I thank ye for the observation. May I return to my work now?” Jamie asked, trying to keep the pleading from his tone. 

She hummed to herself, “I’m not standing in your way.” 

Okay. So maybe he wasn’t quite strong enough to ignore it. And she was in no mood to free him from her clutches on her own accord. 

Swivelling so abruptly in his chair that Claire nearly fell over backward in surprise, he faced her. He took her hands in his and brushed his thumbs over the back of her knuckles. 

“Listen, lass. There’s no way I’ll get anythin’ done while ye’re toyin’ wi’ me, and I still have much to do. So let me make ye a deal. Gi’ me one hour wi’out interruptions, and I’ll… well…” Jamie found himself at a loss for bargaining chips. Ifrinn. The lass had him so well in the palm of her hand that he already gave her whatever she wanted. He decided to flip it and open it up to her. “What do ye want? In return?” 

Her eyes flashed with excitement and a twinkle of mischief. Jamie braced himself for some devious declaration or demand for a game that would prove tortuous for his self control, but instead of anything like that, Claire surprised him by smugly requesting, “I want one hour in front of the heater.” 

Jamie nearly laughed out loud. He’d come to realize that the lass thought that the space heater was a precious, exhaustible commodity, not some piece of junk hooked up to electricity. He hadn’t wanted to disavow her of that notion for fear that she’d spend every waking second in front of it instead of with him, and it seemed now it was going to play the situation to his advantage. 

“I think I may be able tae make that happen,” he said slowly, keeping his cards close to his chest. 

“With you!” she added quickly, narrowing her eyes, “for the full hour.” 

“Do we have a deal then?” he asked, putting on his best business face. 

“We have a deal,” Claire nodded primly. 

Rather than a handshake, Jamie opted for a quick peck of lips. As Claire drew away and made to head back toward the bookshelf on the opposite corner of the room, she looked like a cat that got the cream.

Better luck next time, lass. If you wanna bargain, better come knowing what’s of value. 

Feeling smug in his own right, Jamie returned to his work. This time, it wasn’t his girlfriend’s hands on him distracting his mind. Rather, it was the unshakable feeling of fondness that filled his stomach and warmed him to his toes. 

***

“Hey, Jamie?” Claire asked, breaking the silence about 45 minutes into the agreed hour. 

“What is it, a leannan?” 

He tore his gaze from his computer to find Claire looking up at him from where she sat on the floor at the foot of the bookshelf. Her arms were wrapped around her middle, and she looked so wee curled up in the corner, shooting him a troubled gaze with eyes that were round as a doe’s. 

“I’m cold.”

Brows furrowing, he abandoned his work— in the middle of a sentence no less— and went to her. She was shivering, despite it being rather balmy in his office. 

His wee faerie, typical. 

“Here, lass.” Jamie stripped off his suit jacket to wrap around her shoulders. She took it gratefully, her hands brushing Jamie’s at the edges. That bit of contact jolted through him, shattering any notions of him returning to his work straight away, and he fell to his knees beside her so he could wrap her in a hug. 

She melted instantly into his arms, laying her head on his shoulder. He smoothed his hands up and down her back, and it was at that moment that he felt her shivering. 

“Christ, lass, ye really are cold,” he burst out in concern. 

“It’s cold,” she repeated, shifting herself within his arms to burrow closer. 

“It’s no’ this cold,” he breathed. 

She didn’t say anything, just trembled against him. She withdrew her hands from around his middle and instead tucked them against his chest between where their bodies were pressed together. 

Jamie bit his bottom lip and repositioned himself to get comfortable. It seemed he was in for a longer break from his work than expected. His heart was beginning to beat faster as anxiety for his love rose in his chest. 

“This is more than temperature, a ghraidh,” he said softly. 

She shook her head where it laid on his shoulder but made no move to raise it and look at him. 

“Ye were fine all mornin’,” he noted quietly as his brain began working in earnest. 

“I’m fine now,” Claire insisted, her voice muffled from where her mouth pressed against Jamie’s shoulder. 

“I dinna think ye are,” Jamie finally said out loud, admitting the fear that had been rattling around inside of him for days now. He’d watched the little things add up, even worried over them, but every time he managed to convince himself it was nothing. Even just this morning he’d thought perhaps everything was in his head. Now, however, it was just another item to add to the growing list that was too long to be coincidence. 

“I told you, Jamie. It’s nothing,” Claire said, her voice gaining an edge to it. “I can feel you worrying.” 

Jamie swallowed thickly. A rush of guilt washed over him, and he wondered whether she could feel that too. Gah! It was impossible not to feel things, especially when it came to her. It was terrifying to know she could read them, and that what he was feeling could make things worse for her. 

“This isna nothin’ Sassenach, but I dinna ken—”

Claire sat up abruptly, pushing herself away from him with two hands planted firmly on his chest until she had gained her distance. Irritation was rising in her as warm spots on her cheeks, and her eyes flashed a darker shade of gold. 

“Don’t tell me about me like you know better than I do,” she said, brows drawing together in frustration. 

“I’m no’, I just—” 

Jamie reached for her, but she batted his hands away. 

“I’m telling you, it’s nothing. If you were tired of trying to warm me up, you could have just said something.” 

She was moving backward now, attempting to put more distance between them, but Jamie reached out to grasp her upper arm, holding her still. Her head whipped toward him, eyes hard and ready to lash out, but Jamie spoke before she could. 

“Please, dinna go,” was all he could think to say. 

It wasn’t like she was actually going to storm out of his office— at least he hoped not— but it still hurt for her to tear herself away like that. He didn’t want to fight.  

Something— perhaps it was his pleading tone, the look on his face, or maybe she could actually feel his distress— made her freeze and give him her attention. 

“I’m sorry if I made ye feel like ye werena my priority, mo ghraidh, because ye are. Always. I would abandon work entirely jes’ tae hold ye in my arms, for however long ye wanted. I’m jes’ worried, lass, I dinna mean to presume I ken more than you do about yer own body. I’m sorry. Please, lass, come here to me?” 

Claire’s eyes filled with tears. She remained stock still, her eyes locked with Jamie’s. There was a long moment where he watched the moisture gather in her eyes and the gears turn in her head as she fought within herself, and then she broke the stillness. She did come to him then, scrambling up into his lap and throwing her arms around him. A wet face pressed into the crook of his neck, and Jamie quickly brought his arms up to hold her, pressing her face into him and feeling relief course through him. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I don’t know why I lashed out at you, Jamie. I didn’t mean that.”

“Hush, hush, it’s okay, a leannan,” Jamie soothed, carding his fingers through her curls and rocking her back and forth. “Ye’ve had a long day. Ye’ve felt yer share of heartache, met so many new people and seen so many new things, and ye’re tired. Why dinna we head home now, aye?” 

She drew back, blinking tears away from her eyelashes. “Maybe just in a moment?” 

“Of course, Sassenach.” Jamie didn’t need to be an empath to know that she needed a second to gather herself together before she could face the task of exiting the building and encountering whatever people went along with that. 

“Hey, I love you,” Jamie added softly, petting her hair, pulling it back away from her neck over and over. He stretched his thumb so he could smooth over the long muscle of her neck, feeling the soft skin and wishing he were at an angle that he could press a kiss there. 

“I love you, too,” came her quiet response.

***

a/n: Important Update:

Hey friends! So I may be going off the grid a bit later in June, not 100% sure yet. There probably will end up being a brief hiatus for this story, and I wish I could tell you exactly what it will look like, but I don't know yet. I will keep you posted here. Thank you so much for your flexibility and investment in the story, and I'll do my best not to leave you at cliffhangers. While I still have time left, be prepared that updates may get a bit more frequent.

I don’t remember if I’ve announced it on here yet, but I also want to officially say that an Arc III is in the works! I’ve already started writing a bit on it because I’m so excited about it. So don’t worry, even if there is a brief hiatus, there is lots of story left. Thank you for sticking with me!!!

Next

#wooohooo finally managed to write it!!! #all that was fair #claire x jamie #outlander fanfiction #update #fae claire

[lovelycheollie]

Back Home

“I believe that all of our lives we’re looking for home and if we’re really lucky, we find it in someone’s loving arms. I think that’ what life is-coming home.”  –Anita Krizzan

Words: 2512

Hi there! It’s been years, and I’ve been attracted to embrace my Carat side again! I hope everyone’s doing fine, despite of the pandemic we’re experiencing right now. I decided to create a Vernon fic for the reason that I missed my mutuals, especially @chillihansol ((she’s still a Vernon stan how constant I am jelly!)) I hope you guys enjoy this read! My ask is always open for requests 

 “This is ridiculous,” you mumbled to yourself, staring at the white cyber abyss in front of you. The laptop screen showed nothing but a blank document, a pile of notebooks unevenly stacked to your right. Your chin rested on the top of your palm while you tried your best to think of something that may make you start on your assignment. So much on learning online, you could only rely on yourself and on the urge of just simply finishing and passing whatever needs to be submitted.

It was early in the morning, and supposedly you were to have a hearty breakfast while thinking of ways to somehow cope with the academic stress you were feeling. Even if you were stuck inside your room, you at least knew how to have fun despite being by yourself, may it be simply listening to your favorite song, or cook something easy. While you strolled towards the kitchen, you heard your phone ring and you were being summoned to an online meeting with your classmates. Your to-do checklist was filled again with some assignments meant to be passed on the next day. Staring at the list alone removed the motivation in you to work on your pancakes, and the weather outside could only join you in your tired state.

So there you were, sitting on the office chair and struggling to find the single word that will push you forward to work on your assignment. No word you’ve thought is good enough for the first sentence. Oh how much you’ve hated going through a writer’s block. Deep inside, you just wanted to cram on the homework and sleep your troubles away, but then again, you just really wanted to get rid of everything and just relax without worrying.

As you decided to brew another cup of coffee, someone knocked on your door, which almost caused you to drop your favorite mug onto the floor. You dragged your feet towards the doorway, eyebrows knitted together and eyes ready to glare on whoever was brave enough to bother you early in the morning. But as soon as you saw Vernon flashing a toothy grin, the eyebrows separated, the glare turned into a loving pair of eyes, and your feelings were everywhere. After months of not seeing each other, Vernon was in the flesh, and was already making your morning better.

“’Sup Y/N,” he said, placing his face mask in his bag and removing his white sneakers. You took the time to gawk at his pink sweater and jeans, while still being mentally at awe at his sudden presence. You heard him chuckle a bit as he welcomed himself in the room. “What’s the mug for?”

You rose the mug near to your face, stepping away from the door. “Ah, well, I was brewing coffee. I wasn’t really expecting a visitor, let alone your face.”

“Kind of mean, but I understand.” He lifted the messenger bag and showed you the contents. He had store-bought meat buns, bottled coffee and milk tea, some chips and biscuits stacked inside the bag. Vernon showed another smile which made your heart throb a bit. “I figured you would be stressed today, so I brought the good stuff.”

“How did you even ‘figure out’?”

“You tweeted last night, and you know me. If practice is over then I do the second best thing.”

“Which is?”

“I check your tweets because I’m such a great friend,” he replied to you as he found himself sitting on a bean bag. Vernon placed the goods on the coffee table and stood up again, joining you in the kitchen to get some glasses and plates. He was always like this in your room; he felt like he was at home, especially when he was with you.

Placing the plates on the table, he proceeded to fill the glasses with the coffee and tea, then looked at you and patted the bean bag next to him. You could only roll your eyes while removing the ice tray from the fridge. As you sat beside him, he dug his teeth on the meat buns and let out a satisfactory hum. He found himself at peace, with you alone, and with some convenience store goods. But before you could even copy him, you remembered you had an assignment to start on. The pain of standing up again to grab your laptop was bothersome, and the temptation to relax has strengthened itself.

While chewing on a hearty bite, Vernon took a short glance on the empty online document, then to your struggling fingers, then back to the screen again. He could tell that you were just not having it, the motivation in you to study was missing.  Remembering on how he welcomed himself inside, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty. “I can see you’re pretty busy. Did I come at the wrong time?”

“What? Oh no, it’s okay! You actually came at a good time,” you tucked your hair behind your ear, his sight fixated on your fingertips. A sigh escaped your lips as you finally typed some words on the keyboard. “I just needed a small push to start on this one.”

“How many assignments do you have?”

“I got two, plus this one, so three,” you stopped and looked at him, seeing a bit of sauce on the side of his lips. With your motherly instinct, you wiped the sauce off with your thumb and then wiped it on a tissue paper. Before it could even sink in your thoughts as you continued to type, Vernon was flabbergasted. Yes, he knew you were a bit motherly to your friends, but he wasn’t aware that you had the gull to touch someone else’s face. He could feel the blood rush to his cheeks, and he was just trying his best not to let you know how your simple gesture made him feel giddy. The troubles of having a crush on a friend was very much real for this man.

Despite being busy on working as an idol, Vernon would always find time to be with you, as the two of you were close friends. He despised the thought of only being friends with you until the two of you reached adulthood, and he was so sure that he wouldn’t let the two of you stay as friends. But then, even if he finds himself in the perfect situation, the courage to muster up the feelings and confess to you was still a hard mission for him to do. Simply put, he was just crushing on you so badly.

And so, the feelings were put in the lyrics he would sing. They would be seen in the steps he would do onstage. You weren’t that naïve; you can feel that Vernon was signaling something to you. However, you didn’t want to simply assume that this charismatic friend of yours was trying to be more than friends. Hence, you and Vernon are still friends, up to this day.

“Do you want me to help you?” he stammered while trying to act as normal as he can, which you could see, was failing. Seeing him like that, you were starting to feel jittery as well. Your fingers kept pressing backspace from the typing mistakes. The two of you were now facing the same dilemma: how to act properly beside the person you’ve been liking for months.

You cleared your throat and sipped from your glass. Opening the packet of biscuits, you munched on a piece and continued on your homework. “No, I’m okay. I know you’ve been busy, so you should just relax and let me do my own thing.”

“Are you sure Y/N? You know I could help you.”

“Yes, I��m definitely sure. And what you should be doing is resting because I know you’d be pretty busy by tomorrow.”

  Then it became silent, with only the rustling of the plastic bags and your fingers typing making the noise. Vernon continued to slip a glance on your work from time to time, and you just did whatever you were doing, despite feeling the heavy weight of his glare. Sometimes, you would catch him looking at you, and he would just give you a goofy grin, and that would be enough for you to punch him lightly on his arms.

 As you were reaching the final paragraph of your paper, you felt the urge of chewing something. The last piece of biscuit was across the table, and sadly, you couldn’t rely on your own to reach it. Luckily, beside you was Vernon who had long, slender arms, who busied himself with his mobile games. It was time for you to have him do something.

 “Hey Vernon?” you said, eyes glued once again to the monitor.

Vernon paused his game and turned his head to you. “Yeah?”

“Can you pass me the last biscuit? I can’t reach it,” you spoke charmingly, giggling in your head. You were expecting that the biscuit would be placed nearer to you, but your friend wanted revenge to what you did earlier.

Vernon opened the packet and positioned the biscuit in front of your lips. For him, he was doing it simply to lessen your troubles, but to you, it was making you crazy.

“Here you go Y/N,” he spoke, placing the thin, chocolate-flavored biscuit on your lips and licking the rest of the crumbs on his thumb. You were staring with wide eyes as he did so, and when he noticed your surprised look, the thought of his actions hit him on the face. Right now, the two of you were a blushing mess. Panicking for your life, you hurried into finishing the last paragraph of your assignment. There were less mistakes this time as you typed, which felt as an accomplishment to you. You couldn’t dare to look at Vernon with your reddened state, which made you to focus more on your paper.

“Hey Y/N,” he finally spoke as you saved the file. Vernon was simply waiting for your response, sitting beside you while you swallowed your feelings and shut your laptop off. He sat on his knees, eyes staring at you which took you aback. Vernon was serious, and you felt a pang of nervousness to whatever he was thinking. You settled the laptop on the table, and just sat there, thinking of what to say to ease the atmosphere somehow.

“Yes? What is it?”

“Why are we so awkward?” he mumbled, and you made a small laughter as soon as you heard him. Your laughter was music to his ears, and it quickly perked him back to his normal self again.

“I don’t know about you, all I wanted was for you to reach the biscuit, not feed it to me, you dork!”

“You did it first! You wiped the sauce from the corner of my lips!”

You could only blush more while making up words for your rebuttal. “It was my motherly instinct! You did not have to take your revenge on me!”

And while you continued on, Vernon was simply looking at you, adoring your flushed cheeks in the morning light. In his head, you were pretty, even if your face was red, even if you were chatty and embarrassed. His heart was full of you, he knew that he likes you that much. A tiny smirk grew on his lips, which turned into a large smile. Surrendering in defeat, you turned to the other side, bit your lips into one straight line and planted the thought of him smiling at you in the center of your mind.

“Why did you have to be so charming?” you whispered to yourself, making sure that you were the only one who could hear it. You were mistaken though, as Vernon heard it, and kept the butterflies in his stomach.

Vernon’s ringtone broke the silence, and with quaking hands, he answered the call. While he was talking with the caller, you took a piece of paper and wrote something simple on it. Quietly, you sneaked the paper inside his bag, and laughed at yourself. You imagine a laughing Vernon in the middle of the street, with the paper in between his fingers.

“Y/N, our manager called. He said he wanted to meet us all in the dorm,” he told you while fixing his bag and checking his belongings inside. He had a gloomy look imprinted on his face, and you were affected by the sudden news as well. Vernon was going to leave so soon, and it will take a while again to see him and bond with him. “He wants to meet us right now. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, you’re an idol! You’ll be busy at times and it’s okay! I understand!” you showed a sad smile, which made Vernon ache for a hug with you.

“Don’t you worry! After the meeting, I’ll come back immediately! Lunch will be my treat!” Vernon replied with another grin, lifting his arms to pat you on the head. The two of you walked to the door, and you can’t help but become a little bit greedy to him. Deep inside, you wished that he didn’t have to leave, and that you would spend the whole day with him.

After putting the mask on, he stood up, looking at you once more and poking your head. “Hey, don’t be sad. I’ll be back soon enough!”

You braved yourself to hug him, which startled him a bit. He then hugged you back, his warmth seeping on his clothes to your skin, and his arms tightly wrapped around you. The moment was short-lived, as you backed away from him and returned the smile he’s been giving you. “You better take care of yourself Vernon!”

He opened the door and stayed outside, still holding on to your warmth. Head turning, you were there behind him, in your favorite loungewear, waiting for him to continue ahead. To him, you were the epitome of a home, and he knows that no matter what would happen, he would always come back to you. In the busiest day, or in the darkest night, he would always think of you. You are his home.

While walking along the street, Vernon checked the contents of his bag. He would often check the insides of his bag when he was already outside, a perk he does to secure that he has everything with him. At the bottom corner of the bag, there was a folded paper. He knew the note was yours, as he remembered that you had a small habit of leaving memos in your friend’s belongings. As he opened the note, he found himself running back to your home, knocking on your door and locking you in his arms, embracing you with all of his heart. Vernon thanked his stars, and this stressful morning, as he realized his worries were answered with your sincerity and with your own feelings as well.

“Vernon, even if you run away, always come back home. I love you.”

#seventeen #svt #sebeuntin #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenario fluff #vernon #hansol vernon chwe #chwe hansol #seventeen vernon #vernon imagines #vernon scenarios #seventeen vernon imagines #seventeen vernon scenarios #seventeen vernon fluff #vernon fluff #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt fluff

[darkhymns-fic]

Blossoms in Flight

Estelle is having trouble working on her next book, so a visit from Rita was more than welcome - and possibly give her a solution to her writer's block.

Fandom: Tales of Vesperia Characters/Pairing: Estelle/Rita Mordio Rating: G Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: So here’s a 3 month late bday gift for @taco-night-frenzy​ ! Please forgive. :) Enjoy some lesbians trying to fly together and it (mostly) turns out okay!

--

Inspiration just wasn’t striking.

Estelle put her pen down, heaving a sigh that traveled from the very pit of her lungs until it left her mouth. She had been at this for a solid twenty minutes, having cleared her schedule to give her some well-needed writing time. And yet, as the blank piece of parchment before her told her…the words wouldn’t come.

She just couldn’t understand it! She had all the essentials down for a productive writing session; a recently cleaned-up desk where a simmering teacup was set next to her right, flowers placed on the windowsill to give her room a pleasant fragrance, a locked door so that no well-meaning knight (Flynn) could come in and ask if she needed anything, and she had even put up some nice pictures on her wall, a few paintings depicting landscapes and wildlife. Many of them were so pretty that she found herself staring at them for quite a while… or was she just finding an excuse to not do the task at hand?

Estelle shook her head, even tapping her temples with her fingers. “Focus now! You can do this!” She had the habit now of talking to herself when she tried to get into a creative mood, though always making sure her door was locked before she did. “You’ve written one book, now it’s time to write another! So…let’s get started!”

Another breath, taking back the quill pen in her hand. She could hear the children from town playing outside, but she had made sure to lock the window to minimize outside distractions. It was the best way for her to concentrate! Although even just thinking about the outside got her curious to maybe leave her room for a break… Wait, no! This was the problem!

“Focus…” Estelle whispered, taking another deep breath, staring daggers at the page as if to will her words into existence. “Focus…”

The children outside were being quite loud though – sounding as if they were just at her room, knocking their hands against the wall! But she was on the second floor, so that was clearly impossible. It must have been just wishful thinking anyway… She liked to ta her walks outside and read her latest book to the group of children. In some ways, that had been her own source of inspiration as well-

“ -elle! Estelle!”

Oh, sometimes they’d shout her name like that too, especially when she was lost in thought, looking over the great tree of Halure, with its pink petals that floated over them all. She had only moved to this town a few months earlier, along with a few trusted knights, including Flynn, for protection. But she had never felt safer. Never, except when with-

“Estelle!! Open the window already!!”

A sharp gasp left her throat, prompting her to stand up. Her chair was knocked on its side from the motion. “What? Who’s- who’s there?” Was it that ghost that the children sometimes spoke of again…?

“I’m right here!!! Hello?!”

Oh, wait, someone was actually at her window. And going by that voice…

A smile lifted her face as she turned. “Rita? Is that you?”

Her home in Halure wasn’t too tall, but with her room on the second floor, only birds and the like would make it to her window. Often she would open it to the see the town outside, along with the pink petals that floated on the warm breeze, sometimes catching onto her hair. (And with her hair the same pink shade, she would rarely notice the petals until someone such as Flynn helpfully pointed them out). But instead of the town, she saw a sight that was even more heartwarming and exciting.  

Rushing to the window that she nearly stumbled, her hands pressed against the glass to push it open – and nearly Rita along with it.

“Agh! Careful!” Rita flailed a bit but latched her fingers onto the windowsill, her brown hair a bit frazzled. She struggled with the action, especially as she seemed to be carrying a sort of mechanical contraption on her back.

Estelle stared for a moment before she realized to grab onto Rita’s hands to keep her steady. “I had no idea you were here! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, don’t have to worry that much.” Rita sighed, gripping back Estelle’s hands. But she didn’t move to go through the window, at least not completely. The window was tall, enough to take in Rita’s entire height, so she deftly placed her feet on the windowsill, looking down at Estelle. “I was just out here knocking on your window for the past ten minutes…”

Estelle gasped. “Oh no, I’m so sorry. I was just so busy trying to… well, focus for a while.” She shook her head, pushing away such worries. “But, I didn’t know you’d visit me!”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Rita frowned at that. “I told you I’d see ya again, just after I finished my latest project.” With that announcement, she jutted a thumb to the machine strapped to her back. “In fact, I used this to go and visit you!”

Estelle’s eyes widened with awe. “Wow… is that a new backpack?”

“It- It’s more than just a backpack! See the fan blades here?” She gestured to the things, currently very still, numbering about four blades altogether, seeming to stick out from Rita’s back like metal wings. “It’s my new flying machine. I told you that I’d show it to you.”

A memory jogged within Estelle. “Ah, that’s right! You did tell me that. I apologize. It seemed to have slipped my mind…” Still, she looked at the flying machine, how compact it was, fashioned from metal. “And all without any blastia?” Always she was impressed by the girl’s genius.

“Of course! It’s utilizing the law of physics anyway. Aerodynamics and such, so you just need to determine the lift, the weight, the drag and the thrust. Though mine works a little differently because of the shape of this, but I still have to calculate how the force of gravity affects it, and if enough thrust from the propellers can lift me up…”

Estelle nodded very slowly. She was impressed! Even with all the information making little sense to her.

Rita noticed. She blinked, cleared her throat, then crossed her arms. “Anyway… I was just in town… wondering if we could get tea together, you know…”

“Oh, that would be wonderful! I know how busy you are with research.” Estelle clasped her hands. “And I have plenty of honey this time!”

“Well, good! Tea is only good with honey, so you should always have plenty!” Rita was really quite adamant about this, which Estelle well-remembered. And if honey made Rita came by for tea more often, she would always make sure to have enough on hand.

The girl remained standing up on the windowsill though, occasionally adjusting the straps wrapped around her torso (perhaps trying to get it off?). Sometimes a rotor blade hit the sides, but Estelle didn’t mind the noise of it. In fact, she found herself a little in awe of the sight, Rita’s silhouette against the backdrop of the sky, where the stray petals of cherry blossoms floated in the breeze. They fluttered all around Rita, who didn’t seem to notice them in the slightest, too preoccupied with her machine.

Estelle must have been staring for far, far too long. “Uh, what is it?” Rita asked with a raised eyebrow. “I-I almost have this done so just get the tea ready!”

Estelle flushed just then. “Oh, Rita it’s not that! It’s just, um…” Recently, the words always seemed to escape her, not just from her pen, but just through speaking. It was as if anything significant thoughts she had just seemed to flitter away from her mind, like frightened birds. But Rita was right in front of her, so at the very least, she could keep track of what she wanted to say… “It’s just, you look really heroic standing up there right now!”

It was clear right away that Rita had no idea what she meant. “Huh?” Although her face also seemed a bit red. Flying must have taken a lot of energy and exertion, which made sense as to why she wanted tea so much. “I don’t…well… I mean if you think so…”

But the longer Estelle looked at Rita, the more she believed the image before her to be true. “Yes! Especially with the cherry blossoms falling around you. Like something out of a novel…” At that, she paused, blinked, then clapped her hands. “Oh, that’s it! The new protagonist should be someone like you!”

Rita seemed to get even redder, and Estelle wondered if maybe the heat of the day was getting to her. “W-what? Estelle, can you make sense please?”

Ah, that’s right. She hadn’t explained it at all to Rita. That was rude of her.

“Sorry. Actually… you caught me at a weird time.” She finally decided to move, going over to a side table in her room where a teapot and some cups were placed. Luckily, the water inside was still hot, and she carefully arranged a chosen tea bag for Rita’s own cup. “You see, I’ve been trying to start my new book for the past hour, but nothing’s coming to mind. It feels like I’ve hit a roadblock, so to speak.” She sighed, pouring the water into the cup. Oh, and of course added in some honey from a small dispenser nearby. “My first one came to me so easily, I just don’t understand what the problem is…”

“…Huh. Can’t say I relate much to that.” But once she turned to Rita with filled teacup in hand, she saw the girl scratch her head, looking at the floor. “Sorry. That was thoughtless to say.”

“Oh no! That’s alright.” Estelle shrugged, once again looking up at Rita against the window. She still looked so heroic, and also just so very cool. She wondered if it was possible to have a painting like this… It was just too bad Estelle couldn’t draw very well. “Maybe I just need to do something a bit differently… I’ve already tried so many different tea brews already.”

“…You really think the kind of tea you’ve been drinking is the issue here?”

“Well, this one time I accidentally switched out my chamomile tea with the ginger one, and it had me up all night!”

“Hmm…”

For a while, Rita seemed to have not heard her, preoccupied with thinking, which happened sometimes. Estelle would usually just let her go through it before interrupting her with anything else. But whatever her musing was, it didn’t last long.

Rita turned her head just over her right shoulder, looking out into the sky. The sun was just beginning to set, casting hues of orange light against Rita’s hair. The petals continued to float around, doing so in such intricate patterns, it seemed that they danced about her. Even the wind picked up, gently rustling Rita’s clothes, including the yellow ribbon wrapped around her arm.

Once again, Estelle could do nothing but stare.

“Well, if you need more inspiration for your book…” Rita said, before fully turning back to her with a smile, one that was full of confidence. “I think I know a way to help with just that.”

Estelle still held onto her teacup, blinking occasionally. “Really?”

“Yeah! The thing is, you’re going about this all wrong.” Rita then finally jumped from the windowsill onto the hardwood floors of Estelle’s room. She did so without any thought to what she still wore on her back, which must have been lighter than it looked. “Just sitting around waiting for inspiration isn’t gonna cut it. You have to go out and look for it! If I waited for inspiration to go and continue my research, I’d just get nothing done. And if something still isn’t working out, I move onto something else. It’s as simple as that.”

Estelle nodded along, fascinated as Rita paced about her room, spilling out advice that was truly so inspiring. “But then… where can I find my inspiration?” she asked with a bit of reservation. “I’ve tried taking walks around Halure, speaking with the children… but I keep having trouble just writing down a few words at most.”

“That’s routine, Estelle. And while routine is nice, it gets boring and expected.” Rita stopped her pacing, facing Estelle with crossed arms. “I only write for academic research instead of any creative writing, but it sounds like you need a new perspective.”

Maybe here was where Estelle got a little confused. She tilted her head. “A new perspective?” How could she do that?

Rita apparently read her mind then. She asked her question so matter-of-factly. “Ever saw Halure from above?”

--

This was the only time Estelle ever felt just a bit unsure around the genius researcher that was so dear to her.

“Are you sure this is the best way?”

“I told you that it’s fine! You don’t think I’m strong enough, is that it?”

“Oh no! I just worry I’ll hurt you if we’re not careful…”

But as Estelle looked up at Rita from above, she saw the determination in her eyes, the way she pouted cutely like so when she was being, perhaps, just a little bit stubborn.

The reason she was above was because Rita had instructed her to lay down, so that way it would be ‘easier.’ Estelle didn’t question it, and so she complied, using the bed in her room as the best place for her to lay down straight. Rita stood by her bedside, eyes hard, arms crossed.

“…Am I laying down wrong?” Estelle questioned. Sometimes she didn’t always understand directions very well…

“No no, it’s alright! Just… thinking how to do this right.” Rita took a deep breath, then uncrossed her arms to stretch them out. Her face was still a bit red, and Estelle wished she had served her the tea a bit earlier. But Rita had declined, determined to help her find her inspiration, as she had said.

With the flying machine still strapped onto her back, Rita stretched out her arms, then nodded. “Okay! Just be sure to hang onto me once I got you up.”

Estelle, slightly nervous, nodded. “Got it!” Still, she worried. Rita was a bit shorter than she was…

Could she really carry her that easily?

Rita had sounded excited at the idea she herself proposed, and Estelle couldn’t help but be caught up in that same excitement. But, now that the prospect was happening, a few doubts popped in her head – mostly concerning herself. For one thing, her dress was probably not the easiest thing to deal with for the person who would carry her…

But before she could voice any more concerns, Rita brought down the goggles she always wore on her head, placing them over her eyes, effectively hiding them away. Then she was bending down, arms slipping underneath the other girl’s back and legs. “And… okay, just, gotta use my knees…” Rita paused, her face a bit near Estelle’s, the heat from her cheeks a bit apparent. “Uh…”

“Are you alright?” Estelle asked, feeling ashamed. “We don’t have to do this if you changed your mind-”

“I didn’t! Don’t assume that!” And with a pout, Rita slipped her hands further so that she got a better grip on Estelle. “I’m just preparing! Okay… one, two…three!”

She lifted Estelle up so quickly that she almost tripped.

“AAAH I-I mean! I have this, don’t worry!” Rita re-balanced herself, holding up Estelle much more securely. She stood up straight, legs trembling slightly, taking deep breaths every so often. “Hurry and…hold onto me…”

“Oh, right!” Estelle wrapped her arms around Rita’s neck, head leaning into her shoulder. “This good?”

“Y-yeah…” Rita turned to look at her, mouth half-open as if to say something. It was hard to see her expression with those goggles on… But then she turned away again. “Anyway, let’s get going.”

Estelle nodded. “Okay!” Still, she hoped she wasn’t too heavy for her…

But she knew better now to make any mention of it. So, she stayed cradled in Rita’s arms as the girl marched over to the open window, careful to keep her back straight, all while muttering, “All in the knees… Just like Karol said, all in the knees…”

Estelle’s lower half of the dress practically engulfed Rita’s arms, at least from what she could tell from her angle. Maybe I should say something… But the thing was, she liked being carried this way.

Rita then hopped back onto the windowsill. The suddenness of the motion made Estelle squeak. Rita’s arms shook, but only for a bit. And then it seemed as if she ran straight off the edge out into the sky. “Keep your eyes open!”

Because Rita told her so, that was exactly what she did.

It wasn’t the first time she had been up in the sky – far from it in fact. Back when she traveled with everyone, they would ride on Ba’ul and the ship he carried, over towns and cities, over the sprawling grasslands, the oceans that seemed to lead forever into the horizon. She’d feel the wind in her hair, raise her head up to the stars, drawn to the brightest one.

But it was different now.

Held close to Rita’s chest, and hearing the whirr of the rotor blades of her flying machine above them both, Estelle felt something much more different now. Her legs dangled in the air, the petals flying close to her face, bringing with her the scent of the cherry blossoms… and she couldn’t help but keep her gaze on Rita’s face, the goggles covering her eyes to protect her from the wind.

Rita seemed to notice, and though she couldn’t see her eyes, she had a feeling the girl had been caught off-guard. “I-I didn’t mean keep your eyes open on me!”

“Oh?” Estelle half-shouted, the wind carrying away both of their voices.

“At Halure! Look at Halure! Y-you can look at me later!”

Estelle did worry excessively that she had done something wrong then, but with Rita’s insistence, she finally did so, following the petals that drifted around them, to the houses that lined the pathways of the roads, to the trees themselves that extended so high above the town and into the sky. Rita flew around the branches, moved along with the wind currents, all as children shouted excitedly from below.

“Told you I could carry you easy,” Rita announced, eyes straight ahead, the rotor blades continually whirring behind her. “Now you got a new view! Is it helping?”

And though Estelle did look all around her, in awe at the height they were at, at how even with Rita’s arms, there was always that faint sense of precariousness, one that sparked something wonderful in her heart. It was exciting and wonderful, and with the setting sun, the town had never looked so beautiful just now.

But even with all of that, her eyes kept going back to Rita, who had always been so, so inspiring to her.

She had to let her know. “Rita!”

A little shake, Rita turning to Estelle in surprise. “Huh?! Don’t just scream in my ear!”

Estelle was too happy, wrapping her arms around Rita’s neck even tighter, hugging her close. “You just look so very cool right now!”

“Estelle, wait! I’m gonna lose control of my flying-!”

Too late. A brief tilt in the air, messing up the already uneasy momentum that they had, and soon enough, were flying right for that same tree, pink petals flooding both of their sights.

When the great tree had been dying, its leaves wilted and its branches drooping low to the ground, so many had lost hope for it. Estelle had felt a desperate wish in her then, one that she could barely bury down, and didn’t want to. Even as monstrous blood infused with the roots, she had begged, she had pleaded, and that alone had been enough to bring it back.

If only she could do such a thing for her very own self so easily, with just a wish. I want to feel like I can do something again. But sometimes, she realized, one had to look outside of one’s own self to find that inspiration.

As Rita and Estelle flew haphazardly, they landed against one of the branches, with a blanket of blossoms cushioning their fall. Rita flailed, Estelle now effectively on top of it. “Agh! I got cherry blossoms in my throat!”

Still, Estelle couldn’t let go of her. She nuzzled her head against the others, feeling so giddy. “You’re just… so great, Rita…”

“You could have hugged me at any other time!”

Her smile hadn’t left, even as the rotor blades now whirred a little less effectively, their mechanisms a bit clogged from all the petals that went into its crevices. If this solved her creator’s block, she wasn’t sure just yet – but she wouldn’t trade this experience for anything else.

#tales of vesperia #rita mordio #estellise sidos heurassein #ristelle #fanfiction #oneshot

[hotpinkhoshi]

kiss it better | three

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: angst, smut, brother’s best friend au (sort of)

warnings: age gap (nine years), cursing, explicit sex, slow burn

summary: you were off limits for more reasons than mark could count. but everything changed for him the day you walked into his tattoo shop with those big innocent eyes and a laugh like his favorite song. he couldn’t. he wouldn’t. and yet…

a/n: hi everyone! thank you for being so patient with me for this chapter! if you follow me i’ve mentioned a few times that i’m struggling with writer’s block these days, but i’m pushing through it. i hope you guys like this chapter and if you have any questions or feelings pls don’t hesitate to let me know! 

✩ index here ✩

In his thirty years and some odd months of life, Mark had learned one unquestionable thing about himself.

He liked to be alone - in all senses of the word. 

In his experience, nothing good could come from allowing anyone past your emotional walls. If he was alone, he was safe. No one could hurt him without his permission. But he’d be lying if he said that having you around wasn’t like a sliver of sunshine peeking over those walls he’d built brick by brick. 

Milo loved you, and another thing he’d learned in all of his wise years was that if his dog liked you, then you were alright. The moment you walked through the door that first morning, Milo had been at your heels, sniffing and licking your shins affectionately. So, one point in your favor.

Mark slept in most mornings since he wasn’t needed at the shop until eleven, so by the time he woke up you’d been up for hours. You took it upon yourself to clean, organize, and revive the dullness of Mark’s apartment. Another point for you. 

You spent most evenings at the dingy diner you worked at until nearly midnight. When you came home, Mark’s usual spot was on the couch, with Milo on his chest and a de-stressing round of Overwatch on the TV. 

For the first few nights, you all but scurried past him to the bedroom to quickly change for bed and then he didn’t see you at all for the rest of the night. He could tell you were doing everything you could to practically be invisible - so different from the fiery girl that had rolled her eyes at him and called him an old man. 

“Y/N,” he called to you the next night when you arrived home from work. He caught you just before you went down the hallway. 

“Yeah?” you said meekly, turning on your heels to face him. 

Mark sat up further, arms holding Milo on his lap. Even your body language seemed like you wanted to disappear. Your arms were behind your back as you stood straight, hands clasped like a servant. 

“You know you don’t have to hide, right? You live here. You can watch TV or have a friend over, or whatever you want.” 

He could see the hesitation in your eyes, like you didn’t quite believe him. He just wanted you to feel at home; something unfortunate had clearly happened before you moved to Seoul. It wasn’t his place to pry or ask questions, but he wanted you to feel comfortable. 

“I… it’s okay, really.” You chewed at your lip, eyes on the floor. 

Mark sighed. “Y/N, just come sit and watch TV with me. No excuses.”

“I should really-”

Milo barked, high pitched and sudden. He was looking at you expectantly as if he was also joining in on the debate. 

“See?” Mark asked. “Milo wants you to hang out with us.”

Mark watched as your features softened bit by bit until you caved. “Okay. I just need to go shower and change, though.” You tugged at your plain black polo that you were forced to wear for work, a little baggy around your figure which made him wonder if the shirt was too big or if you’d lost weight. 

It wasn’t his business, not really, but he still felt this pull to you, towards taking care of you like your parents had done for him. They had saved his life and he’d always been so sure he would never be able to repay them - until now. 

Half an hour later, Mark looked up to find you coming out of your room, no longer in your stuffy uniform but in something more comfortable. Quite comfortable. A pair of shorts and a tank top that was loose on your shoulders, revealing your collarbone and smooth shoulders still glistening from your shower. 

“Hey, can you look at this?” you asked as you sat down next to him on the couch, angling your body so that he could see your tattoo. You slid the strap off your shoulder and pulled your damp hair to the side, revealing the intricate purple flower to him. 

Mark found his throat going a bit dry for some reason, seeing your bare skin like this, smelling the scent of your coconut shampoo. In his defense, it had been a long time since he’d seen this much skin in the flesh outside of the tattoo shop - female skin, to be specific. It was a shock to his system, that’s all. 

“It really itches. Is that normal? I can’t get a good look at it,” you told him, tucking your chin over your shoulder to look back at him. “I’ve been good with the ointment, I swear.”

Staring down at his own design, Mark brought a tentative hand up to your shoulder, tracing his index finger over the lines he’d created. It hadn’t healed completely yet, and it was beginning to shed the top layer, so he could still feel the ridges under the pad of his finger. 

“The itching is normal,” he said, after clearing his throat. “As the tissue heals, it’s trying to repair itself and prevent infection. So that causes itching, kind of like when you get a scab. If it continues for a few more days or starts to hurt, just tell me. It looks like it’s healing well, though.”

You nodded. Mark noticed you didn’t turn away yet, not until his eyes flicked up to meet yours. He had never been this close to you. Had you always had that freckle above your lip? And he’d never noticed the little scar above your eyebrow either, just a little nick that was probably from a tumble you’d taken as a child. 

And he realized with a start that you had been a child not so long ago. It may have been ten years ago, but he still vividly remembered your gangly limbs and braces from when you were twelve. You were Taehyung’s kid sister, and there was no good reason for him to be tracing over your shoulder and going dizzy from the smell of your shampoo. 

Milo saved the day, wedging himself between your bodies until he settled upon your lap, curling into a tiny fur ball. Mark laughed, grateful for the break in the tension. You giggled and sat back against the couch, cradling Milo in your arms. 

“So, what are we watching?”

— — —

And thus began a new routine. 

In the morning, you still woke up earlier than he did. You still made breakfast, except now you waited until just before Mark woke up so that he could start his day with the scent of eggs and bacon as it sizzled in the frying pan. And instead of leaving it on a plate to warm in the oven, you actually sat with him to eat. 

He learned a lot about you. There were still many blanks and question marks but slowly, you revealed little bits of yourself that almost made him feel like he knew you. Not kid you, real you. The woman you’d grown to be in the last several years. 

You were timid, as a whole, but he could see that part of you was slowly beginning to melt away. Once you warmed up to him, he found that you actually had a lot to say. 

Mostly about the food he ate. 

“Mark, that is not a lunch.”

You stood with your hands on your hips, watching with a frown as he grabbed a granola bar out of the pantry and tucked it under his arm along with the flimsy sandwich that he’d thrown together. He wasn’t picky, he just had simple tastes. When you grew up lucky to get two meals in your belly in a day, it made you realize food was just something to keep your body moving. 

“Huh? This is fine. It has nuts in it,” he told you, holding up the granola bar. “Nuts are healthy.”

By the way your lips pursed together, he could tell that you weren’t appeased by that. “At least take an apple with you, they’re fresh.”

Mark humored you at least, grabbing an apple before he was on his way. As he was grabbing his wallet and keys, he had to press his lips together to hide the half smile fighting its way onto his lips. 

— — —

You tried not to think about it. Really, you did. 

It was your day off, so after Mark left, you tackled your first load of laundry since moving in. It had been piling up ever since you were staying in the hostel, where half the laundry machines were almost always taken and the other half were out of order. 

Once you had thrown your clothes into the washer, you tidied up your room. It was a small room, one you suspected was actually meant for a child when the apartment was built - but it was enough for you. More than enough. 

It didn’t take long for you to clean up the room, putting away any clothes you hadn’t folded and put into your drawers just yet. It was silent in the apartment, leaving you only with your thoughts. 

You wondered what Mark was doing. It was nearing noon by now, and he’d mentioned he had two back to back appointments. It didn’t leave him with much time for a meal… not that he’d brought one with him, anyway. 

It wasn’t like you were doing anything. It wouldn’t hurt to throw something together for him quick, and run it down to the shop, would it? Honestly, it was the least you could do. He was allowing you to live in his apartment, rent free, not asking for a single thing in return. 

You found yourself in the kitchen, rifling through the cabinets to see what exactly he had on hand. Not much, you realized. From what you could tell, he lived mostly on take out and the occasional instant meal. Luckily, you found some vegetable broth and enough spices to scrounge together a stew. You’d bought some short ribs the other night, planning on making something delicious over the weekend as a thank you to Mark. 

You’d always loved cooking. Ever since you were a child, it was the one thing you could share with your mother. She wasn’t a cold woman, but she wasn’t one for many words. You never laid your head on her lap and confessed your worries while she played with your hair, or cried in her arms when you were upset. Instead, you cooked. 

If you came home from school, eyes wet with tears, your mother wouldn’t say a word - she would simply fire up the stove and list the ingredients for you to gather from the refrigerator. The only sound while you cooked besides that of the sizzling pans and bubbling broth was the humming - a soft, wordless tune that even now, you could hear in the back of your mind. 

You moved quickly, more confident in your steps than you had been in months. For just a moment, it felt like you were home again. 

— — —

Clutching the paper bag in your hands, you looked up when you heard the ‘ding’ of the bell above your head, signaling your entrance into the tattoo shop. It was noticeably more lively than it had been during your first visit - three young boys were sitting on the couch, flipping through a binder of tattoo designs and exclaiming over each one. 

In the back, you could hear the metallic buzz of a tattoo gun. Dahyun was at the counter with another customer, a girl your age deciding between several types of facial piercings. The former looked up as you entered, offering you a smile when she recognized you. 

“Ah, Y/N!” 

You returned her smile and gave a polite nod. “Hello,” you replied, unable to help but glance around, looking for Mark. It was as if he sensed your presence - no less than five seconds later, he was emerging from one of the rooms down the hallway and coming towards you. 

“Y/N?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed. 

Mark ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face. He was in the same outfit you’d seen him in earlier, a black top and jeans with a blue flannel. Except now he’d taken the flannel off, revealing the toned, tattooed skin of his biceps underneath. 

You tore your eyes away from his muscular arms and stared up at him, swallowing the dryness from your mouth. “Hi.” 

“What’s that?” he asked, jutting his chin towards the bag in your hand. 

You had to glance down to remember what you’d brought with you. Sticking your arms out towards him, you pressed the bag into Mark’s chest. 

“Food,” you answered simply.

Mark rolled his eyes, though you noticed the smile tugging at his lips. “Ah, you really didn’t have to. I told you, I’m alright.” 

You huffed. “It’s real food, not granola or whatever greasy meal you were planning on ordering. Short rib soup. And rice.” 

Mark took the bag, unfolding the top to investigate its contents. He blinked a few times before looking up at you, an unfamiliar expression on his face. Almost like he was touched, but you couldn’t quite understand why. It was just food. 

“I was going to make it anyway, this weekend-” you started. 

“Thank you,” Mark told you, voice surprisingly sincere. It made you feel as if there was something in between the lines, something you couldn’t put your finger on. “Is it… your mom’s recipe?” 

He asked the question slowly, carefully. Mark was a smart man, you knew he’d picked up on the tension between yourself and your family, yet he never pushed. He avoided the topic, and never pried when you mentioned them off hand. 

You swallowed thickly, then nodded. “Yeah.” 

Mark’s face softened as he looked at you. Just as he took a step closer, Dahyun’s voice broke the bubble that had apparently been surrounding the two of you for the last few minutes. 

“Hey, what are you doing tonight?” 

Dahyun was looking between the two of you with a very interested stare, a knowing smirk on her lips as she ignored the customer she’d been helping. 

“Nothing, why?” you asked, a bit hesitant. You were off work, and Yerin was pulling an extra shift at the restaurant tonight. She was your only friend, so it left your night wide open. 

“Well,” Dahyun said, leaning her chin upon her hand. “We were going to go bowling tonight with a couple of other people, and we need an even number. If you came, it’d be perfect. Yugyeom’s girlfriend bailed, something lame about a massive nursing exam tomorrow.” 

Mark sighed. “You really don’t have to - it’s fine.” 

“I’m really bad at bowling…” you said, already preparing your polite rejection. 

“So is everyone else,” Dahyun replied. “I mean, Mark’s good. And Jackson pretends he is. But mostly we just get drunk and make fun of ourselves.” 

Your instincts were telling you to say no. Your social circle, even at home, had been very small. Large group settings weren’t your thing, especially with strangers. But you’d decided as soon as you moved to the city that you would try every new thing you could. 

“You should come,” Mark offered. When you looked at him, he was chewing at his lip, but he offered you an encouraging smile nonetheless. “If only for the entertainment of watching Jackson lose his mind every time he bowls a gutter ball.” 

This was what you’d come here for. You’d left your life behind, everything you knew, so that you could live. You couldn’t do that if you refused to step outside of your comfort zone any time an opportunity presented itself. 

Besides, if you could get a tattoo, surely you could handle a little drunk bowling. 

“Okay,” you finally agreed. “I’ll be there.” 

#writing #kibfic #mark tuan #mark tuan fanfic #mark tuan angst #mark tuan smut #mark tuan fic #mark tuan imagine #got7 fanfic #got7 angst #got7 imagine #got7 reaction #got7 scenario #got7 fic

[scarletwinterxx]

Timeless Finale - Doyoung AU

First of all, I’m so sorry it took a while to finish this series. To be honest I struggled with writer’s block during this whole story, but those moments when ideas pop in my head I rush to my computer and get as much work done as possible so I hope you like it! Second, Resonance pt. 2 !! this whole era gave us so many memories, it’s a bit sad to think that it might take a while before we see all of the boys work together again but for now let’s enjoy and appreciate all of their efforts and hardwork 💚💚 

How about you lovelies, which track has been your favorite for this whole NCT 2020 era? Deja Vu is definitely up there for me. okay okay moving on. hope you enjoy this last chapter!!

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2020 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART TWO.5 || PART THREE || PART FOUR || PART FIVE || PART SIX || FINALE

“Doie, you’re going to be late”

The early morning sun peeking between the blinds, It’s probably a good time to get up but the bed is all warm and cozy it’s a literal struggle to get up. That and this whole human being currently laying on top of me

“Five more minutes” he answered, the same one he’s said about three times now. Then I felt a kiss on my nose, my cheeks, my forehead, and just about every part of me he could reach. After that he just nuzzled his face on the crook of my neck, my arms automatically hugging him closer to me 

I don’t have it in me to tell him to stop when he’s being this adorable, who knew the Kim Doyoung could be this adorable? I wanted nothing more than keep him here with me but I remembered he has a few important meetings to attend so the next kiss he was supposed to give me was blocked by my hand

“Yah, what are you doing?” He asked, swatting my hand away so now we’re face to face again. I smiled at the sight, he had this little pout on that makes him look like a cute little bunny

“I’d love to stay with you here all day, but you have meetings to go to”

“I’m the boss, I can cancel it” he said then went in for another kiss but this time I pushed him off me

“I’m sure you can but you won’t, we’re going to be responsible adults. We don’t want your dad thinking it’s a bad decision handing the company over to you”

“Maybe after this he won’t call me in, I can just spend the whole day in bed with you” he said, his arm pulling me to him so this time I was the one on top of him

“And what about your work?”

“You can just provide for me” I rolled my eyes at his answer knowing full well he’s just joking

“Come on, we can cuddle more later” I said then kissed him on the chin before pushing myself of him

“Cuddle and more later?” 

“You won’t find out unless we get on with our day” I called back to him as I make my way to the bathroom. 

That’s how our mornings usually starts. 

After everything that had happened and after getting back with Doyoung, we can finally say we’re on the same page. No more doubts, no more walls in between us, no more hidden glances and secrets. I can truly say that we’re happier this time. 

Of course we’ve talked about what happened: my reasons for running away, what I did in the past year, what he did in the past year. And now we’re here, a couple of months after I returned. 

We both feel more at ease after finally admitting our feelings, we decided not to jump back to being engaged. Like Doyoung said, it didn’t feel like a real relationship. Now we do things as we want, at our own pace.

“You’re all smiley this morning” I hear Doyoung say, looking up to see him leaning by the doorway

“Just thinking, you’re still making dinner for tonight right?”

“Mhm, don’t forget Jeno’s visiting this weekend” he told me while walking to where I was, picking up his own toothbrush from the shelf

“I didn’t forget, and that was one time”

“You forgot that your brother was visiting?”

“I was busy moving!” it was around the time I moved in my new apartment, which is pretty pointless now. I mostly stay over at Doyoung’s nowadays. Like last night when I said was going back at my place but he kept on insisting it was too late and I should just spend the night. 

He knows I can’t say no to him when he shows me the occasional cute pout, the one he’s reserved for times like that.  

After getting ready for the day we went our separate ways to work, It went as it normally would. I was happy with my decision of moving back here. I talked to my parents and they were just glad I was fine and happy. I couldn’t be more thankful of how supportive they are of me. 

Slowly but surely things were going back to normal, this time I know there’s no running away. 

“What do you mean I was the embarrassing sister? who said I couldn’t cheer you on your first basketball game?” I asked Jeno who was sheepishly smiling at me, his adorable eye smile on full display making him look all innocent

“It was a kid’s game. You almost fought another kid when they nudge me a bit too hard” he chuckled, meanwhile Doyoung was just looking back and forth between us with a fond smile on his face “You feel on the floor, he’s lucky he’s seven”

“Only you would fight a kid” Doyoung said making Jeno laugh

“I wasn’t going to let him do that to my baby brother!” 

“Noona” Jeno dragged on, he always cringes whenever I call him a baby.  It doesn’t matter if my little brother’s in college now, in my eyes he’s still my little baby

“You should hear about that time she went to my debate competition” Doyoung said with a little smirk on, the memory suddenly resurfaced making my cheeks turn red

“You didn’t say it was a debate! You just said you were competing in something so I showed up with a banner and all that” I justified, this time the two boys laughed at my reasoning

“I remember when you had a big crush on Doyoung hyung you would purposefully wake up early to get on the same bus as him” Jeno said, at this revelation Doyoung looked over at me. It was a story unknown to him, the look on my face said it all.

“Did she now?” “Don’t ask questions, you weren’t suppose to know about that. And you, eat your dinner” I said giving both of them pointed looks. 

For the rest of the night we just shared more stories, it’s always been a comforting sight to see Doyoung and Jeno when they’re together. Some would even think they’re actual siblings. I’m happy they get along well. 

It was pretty late so instead of going back to his place, Doyoung decided to stay over. More like I couldn’t stop the two from playing games so I let them hang out while I relax in the bedroom. Around midnight I finally hear the tv shut off, I hear the door of the guest room open and close before my bedroom door opened to show a sleepy looking bunny

“Tired?” I asked him 

“Not really, just a bit sleepy. We didn’t see the time” he said while walking towards the bed, throwing himself on his usual side of the bed. Immediately he hold his arms out for me making me chuckle at his cuteness

“You two looked like you were having fun” I mumbled as I rolled over to his side, laying my head on his chest. Immediately his arms wrap around me and mine rest across his chest. 

“It was a good day, wasn’t it?” I mumbled, my eyes already closing as I feel his fingers draw patterns on my hip underneath his hoodie I was currently wearing

“It was, mind telling me more stories about the time you had a crush on me?”

I just smiled at his question because I know he was just teasing me, “Maybe one day”

“You know what  I’ve realized that you were there for most of my days and, holy shit, do I love it. I missed you so much when you weren’t there I was just too big of a coward to admit it” I hear him say, his words a bit muffled since his lips are pressed against my forehead

“It’s okay, we’re here now. I’m not going anywhere” “I know, I won’t let you go anyways” I feel a kiss on top of my head, then just like that we were both drifting off to sleep. The steady beat of his heart and his warmth lulling me into sleep like my favorite lullaby. 

Usually on the weekends, Doyoung and I try to avoid doing any work and spend some time together. From going to trips outside the city to the most mundane things like doing the grocery, watching shows and just relaxing. 

Sometimes we go out for date nights but I told him I prefer it when we’re just at home, the two of us with some good home cooked meal. After that it became a tradition. 

“I don’t think we need that much cookie dough” Doyoung said as he sees walking back from the freezer aisle to get some stuff, “Wrong, too much cookie isn’t a thing. Not in my household” I said then threw the bags on the cart

“Just don’t eat all of it in one sitting” he reminded me making me roll my eye at him “it was one time” I mumble, feeling his hand hold mine then pull me along with him as we continue with grocery shopping

“Can we get some apple juice?” I asked so we went to the drinks aisle next, while he picked the drinks up I look over at the family on the other end of the aisle. They looked like they were doing grocery errands to, the guy holding a tiny baby while the lady push the car. The smile on their faces got me smiling too

I didn’t notice that Doyoung is now ooking at me looking at them, making him look over where my attention was

“What are you smiling at?” He asked, 

“Them, they look so happy. And look, that baby looks so cute” I  cooed before looking over at him, his gaze already on me

“You want one?” 

“Want one?”

“A baby?” I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not so I pinched his side making him yelp

“I was just asking, no need to be mean” he said then took my hand in his, probably to stop me from pinching him again. I look over at him, imagining a tiny version of him running around. His tiny cute bunny smile on a little boy.

After paying for our groceries we went back to his car to drive back to his place, I was still about lost in thought. A little Doyoung not sounding bad at all.

“You’re in a good mood, you keep smiling” I hear him say,

“I’m just thinking about a tiny version of you and how cute he would be, just imagine our little boy in cute bunny pajamas” I said, it took me a quick second before realizing what I just said. When I did my eyes were as big as saucers. 

It’s not that we haven’t talked about having kids, we’ve discussed about the topic briefly. We both said we wanted kids, and we’re lucky enough to be financially stable to be able to support our future kids when that eventually happens. 

“So you do want one” he chuckled, “Only if they look like you” I answered, I can see the slight pink tint on his cheeks. Not being to help my self I leaned over to give his cheek a kiss,

“You’re so cute, Doie” I said making him laugh and jokingly push me away, taking my hand on his before giving my hand a peck

“We’d have to get married first, don’t you think?”

“I mean sure, we almost did that so we’re kind of experienced in that area” I joked “You’d have to propose first though”

“and I will, when you don’t expect it” I smile at his answer. 

I already know that with Doyoung there’s no need to rush. We already know we’ll spend the rest of our lives together, even if we’re not married yet. We both know that’s a stop along the way, there’s no need to rush this time. 

“Doie” I called out

“Mhm?”

“I can’t wait to spend the rest all of my days with you, I’m so excited to live more days like this. Talk about our future and be able to live it. I want to be happy and feel love like this for as long as we can” 

I can see the smile he had on, his hand giving mine a squeeze

“Me too, don’t worry we’ll take those steps together. I’ll hold your hand every step of the way”

“You can’t hold my hand when I walk down the aisle” I rebutted, I couldn’t help but joke around making him roll his eye. I just laughed before bringing our intertwined hands closer to me. Giving the back of his hand a kiss. 

“Okay apart from that time then”

“I’m just joking, I love you”

“I love you, and this will be the cheesiest thing I will ever say but you should know I love more than yesterday but less than tomorrow. Up to this day I honestly don’t know how you manage to make me fall in love with you more and more but you do” his revelation now got tears in my eyes

As we drive down the road I see the journey we still have yet to take, holding his hand in mine I know I wouldn’t mind how long it would take as long as I have him. 

#tags #story tags #series #kim doyoung #kim dongyoung #doyoung #nct doyoung #nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct 2020 #doyoung imagine #doyoung series #doyoung au #doyoung scenario #doyoung boyfriend #doyoung fluff #nct imagine #nct scenario #nct au #nct 127 imagine #nct 127 scenario #nct 127 fluff #nct fluff #nct doyoung imagine

[spadesinglasses]

Korean BLs (Series)

Under the see more is a compilation of all of my thoughts for the korean bls that came out in 2020 and in the start of 2021 so namely, the BLs that will be mentioned here are; Where Your Eyes Linger, Mr. Heart, To My Star, Color Rush, and Wish You : Your Melody From My Heart.

As a TLDR this is how I would rank these five.

To My Star

Wish You : Your Melody From My Heart

Where Your Eyes Linger

Mr. Heart

Color Rush

Let’s do this in order. 

Wish You : Your Melody From My Heart

I ADORE THIS BL SO MUCH.

It was such a light series. The conflict was not heavy and it was resolved very quickly. I think it would’ve been more dramatic if the series was longer, but since its very short, they fortunately decided to resolve it as soon as possible, and because of that no time was wasted between the leads. And the actually got a happy ending.

Kang In Soo and Yoon Sang Yi are both precious ;A;.

Sang Yi’s thirst was so strong and palpable it was a miracle that In Soo didn’t realize it, specially when homeboy was staring hard hard at his hard body lololol.

I get lowkey annoyed whenever I see reviews about this series and then putting a mark on the story as like 6 out of 10 or something, because most of the time the thing they are criticizing it for, and the reason why its so low is because of the length. They really went flexible who?

Personally yes the story or conflict was easy and light, but if you’re going to critic it base on how long the entire series it, it was pretty smart to do so. The conflict was not just the father blocking his son’s debut, It was ongoing from start to finish, from even the series started. 

WE SEE in the first episode at how much In Soo struggled on the streets busking, getting his music out there one way or another. The Problem was not created at the time his father did what he did, it goes way before it.

The issue wasn’t also farfetched. We all know in real life that parents can be fucking assholes. So also claiming the story was out of the blue or nowhere is fucking dumb.

LET’S TALK ABOUT THE MUSIC. Honestly I’m no wise dude regarding music. I listen to a song and I base whether I like it or not, on how the song or music makes me feel. And honestly, the music in the series were beautiful I truly love it.

The supporting characters are also dope! I forgot the person who basically pushed Sang Yi to In Soo, but in this house we stan her so much!

Where Your Eyes Linger

I was hesitant on starting this one. I don’t like violence specially around homosexuality. It just stirs so much bad emotion in me. So when I saw that scene of Han Tae Joo’s father beating Kang Gook, i cannot make myself see more of the show.

But I gave in and watched it. It was adorable and actually heavy. I think its the heaviest out of these five examples and I’ll tell you why. (because I just know you’re wondering why this is heavier than Color Rush.)

The story revolved around multiple tropes or relationship marks. First is the servant and master trope, then it went to unrequited love to a friend, then to a master, and then after that it went to jealousy with a new love interest, and then it ended with them not realizing their own feelings until it’s already too late.

Now before I watched this series, I’ve already heard about the opinion of this series being a fanfic plot brought to life, and honestly yes. 

the Servant Master trope and then falling in love with one another is a very popular trope in fanfics, and the way the dealt with it is very reminiscent to how a fanfic writer would usually go about it. 

Other than that, the story actually help quite strongly despite the tropes they used. 

Kang Gook’s fears and uncertainties were actually reasonable. I wished we got more of their backstories, but its logical to see Kang Gook struggle that much with how he feels for Tae Joo. 

Han Tae Joo’s realization after Kang Gook started spending time with the girl was similar to the feeling of “only realizing what they have after they already lost them” feeling and it was such a heart breaking moment. It was a bit annoying to see him struggle that much to put a name in the feeling he was feeling as if homosexuality was just created right before his eyes, but he eventually got there i guess.

Tae Joo’s father was annoying. What he did was a typical parent move, hence annoying.

The ending was satisfying, but also questionable.

I found Kang Gook’s sudden ... change in how he dress and move completely out of the blue. I don’t know if it was just to signify that he was finally not working for Tae Joo’s father and now he’s not restricted to some hyper masculine facade or if it’s a way of the director show what being gay and accepting homosexuality looks like. But whatevs, I’m not gonna dissect that one because I’m sure it’s gonna be a blood bath when I do it.

Mr. Heart

This show was confusing at first then it made sense. Let me explain.

The series started with the two already chummy. 

Go Sang Ha is already open about what he feels for Jin Won. While Jin Won was the typical ass with repressed feelings. Their main conflict was the constant miscommunication between the two.

They show love in two different ways. Act of service, and gifts and money. It’s one of the reasons why the two didn’t get together in the first place in my opinion. They both have issues that both are running away from. 

Aside from that there was also the minor conflict with Sang Ha and his debt. The debt people were of two extremes, being very chummy with Sang Ha or downright horrible, e.g. the scene where he beats Sang Ha up.

There is not much to say about this series. It’s very straight forward, and Jin Won actually straight up called out Sang Ha for running away during the time they actually do need to communicate to one another.

ALTHOUGH I SHOULD SAY JIN WON PUNCHING SANG HA WAS UNNECESSARY AND OUT OF PLACE. That was stupid of him to do and I was very annoyed at him during that time. If you want to put Sang Ha out of his spiral, you could’ve just shout, or shake him. But no, you punched him, IN THE GODDAMN FACE.

That was stupid honestly. 

To My Star

I LOOOOOVE THIS ONE.

The start of the series was confusing because I literally kid you not, i was confused who the guy with the motor helmet on is. Like I genuinely thought he was a different person and not Kang Seo Joon.

The characters are phenomenal. They portray and embrace the opposite attracts trope but also found a compromise, or stable footing for each differing personality to meet the other.

It was lovely to see mr hot, and mr. cold be in the kitchen. Seo Joon’s personality was so bubbly and light that I was surprised to what really happened in that restaurant. (Altho to be fair he did keep it a secret mostly because of his issue and not just because he doesn’t want his friend to have bad press lol I really thought it was because someone was being homophobic while they were on a date lolol)

I RELATE SOOOO HARD TO JI WOO. I myself loves not disrupting my peace bubble. I would literally do everything I can as to not have any form of conflict with another person. It’s very problematic and destructive to my own being in the long term, but for short term comfort, I would take it lol.

So to see Ji Woo express what he was thinking while he was rejecting Seo Joon’s advances, made me cry so much. Because I see myself doing that. I see myself saying no to someone because I’m so scared. Add to the fact that homosexuality is still judged in public spaces, I WANNA LOVE A GUY THAT I CAN HOLD HANDS OUTSIDE WITHOUT FEAR.

SO I do get it, I do get Ji Woo and it was so heart breaking to see him suffer because people are fucking assholes. 

Seo Joon’s lines about loving people who have high walls because they look so strong and sturdy is a mood because that is so relatable. I wanna be surround by people who looks sturdy, and will be there for me. Seo Joon hiding this side of him with bubbliness and bursts of joy was so sad.

I tweeted this on twitter but let me repeat it here.

I LOVE THE FACT THAT SEO JOON WAS STILL THE ONE WHO CAME BACK TO JI WOO.

People might disagree with me and say that it’s better to see Ji Woo be the one who takes the initiative this time to get Seo Joon back, because it shows character development BUT HONEY.

Big changes like that are not a thing in real life! PEOPLE CAN’T JUST CHANGE THEMSELVES INSTANTLY LIKE THAT. Yes they can do stuff out of a sudden burst of emotions but its not a common thing.

 So to see Seo Joon come back, and see Ji Woo so heart broken was so fucking good I love it so much.

Seo Joon pushed for the last time, and you can just see Ji Woo just tired of fighting inside him. He probably has a monologue inside him shouting, “please come back, please come back” when Seo Joon left. And to see him just deflate when Seo Joon did came back was soooo satisfying.

THIS IS NOT AN EXCUSE TO NOT KNOW WHAT A NO IS. You’re not Seo Joon and you situation is not like theirs, so shut up.

lol.

OH DON’T GET ME STARTED WITH THE ANTAGONISTS OF THIS SERIES. Let’s talk about the actor from Seo Joon’s side. The bitch ass really took Seo Joon’s decision and ran away with it like nobody’s business. He really deluded himself and justified in his head all that shit. AND THE AUDACITY to ask Seo Joon to take the fall more was fucking hilarious. He deserves the hate bitch ass shit.

NOW FOR THE FUCKER THAT IS JI WOO’S FRIEND. BITCH KNOWS JI WOO FOR SUCH A LONG TIME NOW, and he has the audacity to pull that shit up in front of him?

Like bruh you know your friend, do you really think he’s the type of guy to do something like that? HILARIOUS.

I think his friend secretly likes him, so when he saw Seo Joon getting chummy around Ji Woo, and seeing Ji Woo show sides because of him, he got extremely jealous.

SO YOU KNOW WHAT ITS A GOOD THING THE REPORT WOMAN ALSO LEFT HIM BECAUSE FUCKING THAT DUDE.

The US reporter woman was funny tho. xD She really went to arms and defended Seo Joon and Ji Woo to him. The bit with the other employee was funny too. He deserves all the misfortune in his life lmao. That’s what you get from outing a gay guy.

WOOPS THIS GOT TOO LONG. I JUST LOVE IT SO MUCH.

Color Rush

OKAY.

So Color Rush has the most interesting premise of all of them. That I have to admit.

Other than that the series was lacking.

There are two main plots happening, one is the killings of the mono or probe? I forgot, and the plot of whatever is happening between Choi Yeon Woo and Go Yoo Han.

The series was too short for these two plots. The plot behind the killing was completely disregarded. While the relationship between Yeon Woo and Yoo Han were emphasized.

The ending also confused me. Everyone just forgot that Yeon Woo and Yoo Han ran away? and that Yoo Yan’s family basically threatened to claim Yeon Woo kidnapped his probe? REALLY?

Specially with all of them being in high positions of power? That’s dumb. I really think that they were wrong as to what plot they should emphasize. If the series focused on Yeon Woo and his aunt Yoo Yi Rang solving the case of the killed probes while Yoo Han secretly helps them out with his connections, it would’ve been a much more interesting series. 

The ending of Yeon Woo and Yoo Han would also be more acceptable because now they all know that someone else was behind the killings and its not just the monos going crazy.

Aside from the cute very seldom scenes between the two, and how awkward some of them are. The series really lacked for me.

If you like Color Rush good for you.

This might be unnecessary to add but, something about the actor of Yoo Han makes me uncomfortable. His recent or at least post series statements really unnerves me. If you have no problem with it, cool.

That is all! I think there’s a new incoming korean BL from the same director or at least same universe/line as Where your eyes linger, mr heart, and To my star, called You Make Me Dance? That will be something to anticipate about :D.

FINAL REMARKS

Despite being new to the game of BL, korean BLs were really so good. The plots are not as problematic, or toxic as the other bls from other countries were and honestly I’m very impressed.

They seem to have a much more knowledgeable grasp of what a BL should be by avoiding toxic behaviors and just annoying ass plots. Not naming any names but ya know.

Any who, these five were a nice thing to watch.

I ENTHUSIASTICALLY ADVOCATE AND SUGGEST FOR Y’ALL TO WATCH TO MY STAR AND WISH YOU YOUR MELODY FROM MY HEART IF Y’ALL WANT TO BE HAPPY.

#where your eyes linger #to my star #wish you your melody from my heart #mr. heart #color rush #korean bl #kbls #glass thoughts

[orionsangel86]

How are y'all puzzled by the end and how TPTB, Dabb and Singer seemingly got the wrong message about fandom, when I've seen countless of Destiel shippers being "pro-ship". Advocating to treat incest, pedo*lia and best*ality the same as queer ships, and how it's totally ok. How often "meta crew" called me terf, fascist for saying it shouldn't be accepted into our queer spaces. It got Bobo to write a char for superwiki. They prob thought we're all just thirsty women who want to see two dudes b*ng

I have no idea what you are talking about.

I’m not puzzled. I know some fuckery went down. I’ve stated my opinions countless times now over the past few months over on Twitter and since coming back to Tumblr properly on my conspiracies post:

TPTB are all business, and they made a last minute business decision based on backing the Walker horse and not wanting Destiel to distract from Jared/Sam, whilst being fearful of the gAY scaring away the CisHet Male audience that they so desperately wanted to cling on to for Walker.

Singer has always been a bronly. Has always seen any queer subtext purely as homoeroticism and is definitely the kind of person who would queerbait fans to get views.

Dabb was weak. He backed down and let his script get butchered.

I don’t know what you mean by destiel shippers advocating those things? Unless you mean supporting AO3 not being censored and regulated of course? Because if you are one of these people that thinks that AO3 needs censoring then you are part of the problem. Believe me, no one in Destiel fandom that I know of is normalising incest, pedophilia or bestiality. No one thinks those things are part of queer spaces.

Some people multiship though. So long as they respect tagging systems and don’t force other people to have to see nasty stuff like what you’ve mentioned, then let people be into what they’re into. I might personally find it gross, and a bit strange, but people are always gonna wanna explore fucked up topics for all manner of reasons. We ain’t purity police here.

Also something I feel I need to be very clear on, which I haven’t mentioned before but um “meta crew”. Which meta crew would that be? There are many many meta writers in spn fandom. We are not a hive mind. Some are some of the nicest people I have ever met, some I don’t interact with much but write some really beautiful stuff and seem to be good people, but there are others who call themselves meta writers who are just bullies, who mock and harass anyone who disagrees with their opinion. Do NOT lump us all into the same boat.

Why any meta writers would call you a terf or a fascist without a good reason is beyond me. I don’t have context here do i? Could you look back over what you said and consider if it sounded terfy? Or fascist? I dunno man I don’t have a say in this, if people have called you out for something you’ve said, maybe look back over what you said and try to see it from their angle? Especially if it was transphobic.

A general rule of thumb for interacting with any fandom:

Ship and let Ship - in other words, don’t judge people on the pairings they like, even if they are problematic, so long as those pairings are well tagged and labelled so people can block as necessary.

Your kink is not my kink - Don’t kink shame people. If people wanna write really fucked up shit, that’s their right. Again, so long as it is all tagged and clearly labelled with content warnings, then there shouldn’t be a problem. It’s not on you to psychoanalyse people for their reasons for being into twisted things. Some people may genuinely be abuse survivors who are using it as a coping mechanism. You don’t know.

The Archive is a fandom holy place - it is protected. It is adored. Do not attack it or you will feel the wrath of 100 different fandoms coming at you. The archive is free from censorship, free from corporate manipulation, free from outside sources trying to mess with it. The archive belongs to US.

Just generally don’t be an asshole. Fandoms tend to attract people who are different from the general norms of society. We were the nerds and losers in school, the queer kids, the ones struggling with MHI. We all have a lot of shit and are all just trying to navigate our way through life via our passions. Don’t shit on peoples passions. You’ll come across a load of people who disagree with you, and occassionally you might be unfortunate enough to come across actual bullies. But most of the time, it won’t take much to rub someone the wrong way because everyone in these spaces tends to be at least kind of emotional, and attached to their passions. So you really do have to be polite. I can’t even tell you how many people in this fandom hate me - some to the point of obsession and slander. I’ve got a block list a mile long and continue to add people to it. There are posts out there with my name and screenshots from my SM spreading lies and hate about me, encouraging people to laugh at me and accusing me of doing things that I have never had the time or the energy to do. Shit happens. Don’t be those people, and you’re golden.

Superwiki is well known by SPN writers for being a bible of information for the show. The writers have previously confirmed that they refer to the SuperWiki when wanting quick research for their episodes. Yes, Bobo named a character after the person who runs the wiki, but I doubt Bobo is aware of how problematic that person is. The name was just in honour of someone who put a lot of work into building the wiki, hell, even I use the wiki! But I certainly don’t support any of Jules personal views. Don’t read into things like that. It never means what you think.

The thirsty women part I would have agreed with back 6 years ago. But they have adapted with us now. We are no longer Becky in season 4. We became Charlie remember? And after that we became intelligent teenagers wanted to tell an exciting story. If they thought destiel shippers were all about the hot guys banging, they certainly wouldn’t have made the love story canon, and they did that. Remember? Cas confessed his love for Dean, and it was the most beautiful, touching, heartfelt moment in the entire series. They did that. Not because they wanted us to objectify the actors, but because they knew how much that love story meant to us. Unfortunately, the network had other ideas for the actual finale. But that doesn’t take away the writers intentions up to that point. So please don’t erase what they worked for.

Ultimately I’m not sure what point you were trying to make with this ask, but this post is I suppose my very long way of saying you are wrong.

#spn conspiracy theories #anti spn finale #destiel #fandom wank #asks #anon #Anonymous

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

i havent been here in a hot second is there a reason for the makoto hate specifically? like the rants go back to p5's writing issues but the spite for makoto seems very specific did she kill someones dog in one of the spinoffs or what?

You're all good. So here's the thing, she did kill my dog-I'm joking.

When I say “I’m the residential #1 Makoto Hater” it’s a joke, partially cause it probs looks that way (and probs cause it might be true, who knows if you could quantify hate then maybe I’m at the top of the leaderboards 8U but you can’t so we’ll never know). But I’m saying it at as a joke, to own myself and everyone here that knows what I think of her, rather than wear it as a badge of honor or some silliness. It’s just a “oh haha yeah there goes Silly, dunking on Makoto again! She’s basically Makoto’s #1 hater haha oh she’s so silly.” (so please don’t look too deep into it, I just want to have fun).

Anyway, me hating Makoto isn’t new, but I do hold a similar ire towards Futaba, Goro (tho I have camaraderie with his fans, I relate to their struggle in terms of my own brown hair and red eye fav and Atlus screwing them over u_u I may hate your fave but I respect you and will be in your corner), and Yukari (as well as Chloe from LiS if you want a non-Persona example). Makoto might be talked about more because 1) She hits my buttons that much faster (Futaba/Goro are more like a festering wound, and when I talk about them it’s hard to pick a starting point), 2) Her fans tendency (early on in the fandom) bringing her up frequently.....was a bad combo with #1 (overexposure+pushing all my buttons really fast=disaster). Obvie not blaming her fans, but it was hard to curate how I was able to curate my content online (esp with gaming news websites calling her “best girl” when showing off a figure announcement or some BS when I just want to know what new games have been announced >.> I can do without you trying to start a waifu war in the comments Siliconera -_-)

Anyway, I think I’ve made my reasons for hating her very clear (you just have to search her name on my blog and you’ll get a ton of essays I’m sure, too many to count). And a lot of it is the failure of P5′s writing. “So it’s just the writing you hate, not the character.” No. Because that doesn’t make sense. Except under certain circumstances (which I’ll provide examples of below with Luke Skywalker), you can’t separate the writing from the character. The character IS the writing, the writing IS the character. If you can’t hate/dislike the char because “of the writing” then you also can’t love/like them either. The character and the writing/writing choices for that character are connected. The writing embodies that character. They are the same.

Now I said there was an exception, and that’s....”different writer/director,” tho it’s not ALWAYS the case (sometimes the new writer really gets the original writing, like Saito for MM.....they are very good at emulating the clusterfuck of P5′s writing). P5′s writing is the original basis for Makoto’s character, that’s her. You can’t separate it from her. Same thing with say....Luke Skywalker from the OG trilogy, that’s him. But then we get to the sequel/Disney trilogy, new writer/director....and yeah that’s a mess (from what I understand OG trilogy=Hopeful and tries to see the best in people, 2nd Disney=Cynic and tried to kill a child, 3rd Disney=Hopeful again for some reason). There’s character development, then there’s just straight up changing the character just cause you need them to be this now. 

*writes how this can apply to Persona spinoffs but deletes because I was getting too off track* Look at me exercising control. It’s probs best I save that for a meta after I’ve replayed all the spinoffs again.

But....if you want me to boil down my issues with Makoto, I hate the message we get from her. I hate the lesson we learn from her. What is supposed to happen vs what happens.  It’s supposed to be about a girl who is blindly following authority and becomes disillusioned with it after being burned by it, on top of “immense pressure” she has as well, and then comes to our side (we know this because Atlus told us). We don’t get that (we know this because we saw the execution). We get two adults, yes TWO ADULTS, one of which is her sister and wants her to do well in school (but isn’t like.....a tiger mom about it, because Sae can’t be TOO horrible because we need to like her later), who in retrospect seems very busy with her job (which gives Makoto freedom), but also feels burdened by her younger sister (in which she has one shitty slip with her and then NEVER again). And the other is a dumbass principal who asks a really strange and stupid task for Makoto that snowballs into bullshit. That’s IT! THAT’S IT! That’s all we get from Makoto and “authority.” Strawmen. We don’t really get much of her personality either (I’m not saying that cause “she’s cardboard” I legit just.....don’t get her? Like I don’t get enough of her to get a solid foundation, you get me?) Like as the player, what we see of her is she’s just studying in the library (Kamo arc), then the principal calls her in, she mentions the rumors about Kamo, he asks her to look into the PT in exchange for a recommendation (to which she’s surprised and says thanks, not no, she looks like she’ll accept JUST BASED ON THAT) but before she can even say Yes (OR NO) he threatens Makoto with her sister, to which Makoto hardens and then agrees. Then she acts like an asshole and yadda yadda stuff happens.

But if she’s supposed to blindly follow authority, she’d say yes, but then they don’t let the character breathe so she can make the “wrong” choice because the Principal goes STRAIGHT to threatening her.......so now the message is muddled, or really it’s non existent. The whole Sae thing is a nothing bag too, it’s just family drama. Her sister is, no HAS to be absent a lot for her work, just so Makoto can have the freedom to be a PT....which means....it hurts her lack of freedom and other stuff associated with Sae being a big pressure on Makoto’s life. You know, I’ve said before they’ve squandered Sae, and that Makoto’s presence really harmed Sae (iirc it was this post). But at the same time, how they handled Sae really screws up Makoto’s character. Neither are allowed to breathe. Neither are allowed to make a true, horrible choice...and then learn from it. They aren’t allowed to have an actual arc. Altus played it safe, took choice away from them, didn’t want to take risks with either character and have meaning. Instead we just have this nothing contradiction thing dicking around until they join our team. 

What really sucks about that....is we got that with the Kamo arc. With Anne, Ryuji, even Yuki and Shiho. Kamo was manipulative, and his manipulation caused people to make....not the best choices, all out of a means to survive. Ryuji physically acted against Kamo, and he got his leg broken, team disbanded, and outcasted. Anne was trying to protect Shiho’s position on the team, which lead to her almost getting harmed by Kamo, Shiho getting harmed, her not seeing the truth about what was going on around her, and she didn’t tell Shiho (because she didn’t want Shiho to think she didn’t get on the team for her own merits), and so on. Shiho didn’t tell Anne what was going on because she wanted to protect Anne from Kamo (and was afraid Anne would, very much blame herself), and her and Yuki and the rest of the teams helped keep quiet about Kamo so they wouldn’t be next on the physical chopping block. This isn’t me blaming them, this is me showing their choices, their attempts to fix their (hopeless) situation, to help themselves or others, and the dramatic irony being it just made everything worse. BUT, even tho Kamo was the real one to blame, each character is aware of the actions that were made, and the consequences of each action (esp Anne/Ryuji/Shiho). And in their CoOps, they identify this, and take strides to learn from it so it doesn’t happen again. That’s an arc. That’s character development. They were allowed to make errors, mistakes, decisions that negatively impacted themselves/other’s. We see a solid foundation of their character from the get go, and how it changes over that small time. We don’t get that with Makoto. The group is like solid concrete to Makoto who is like shifting sand. 

Sorry got a bit off topic, anyway, I hate her message of boasting about her fighting ability but she only harms her friends (outside of shadows, but that’s not special) WHILE ALSO being a damsel that needs someone else to rescue her! I hate how when she gets called out, she wants to drop it, and gives gaslighty apologies, even tho she really ROYALLY screwed lot of people very badly. I hate how she demands us to help, only to literally be a detriment to our investigation. I hate how she gets to fly off the handle without repercussions (despite needing to be cool calm and collected for her job, especially since she miraculously can do that when needed so what the hell????). I hate how the text has her be shitty, say shitty things, be bad at her job, but will turn around and reward her time and time again. 

Sure she doesn’t break the lore like Futaba, or unravel P5′s plot like Goro. But as a character with a message attached to her, even ones that the creators surely overlooked (I’m sure they didn’t intend for her to only hit her friends), it’s simple but very annoying. Fast and easy to see, doesn’t require me to think of P5′s lore as well as the grander Persona lore. Doesn’t require me to dig through text for Goro bread crumbs and then unravel the entire basis of the P5 plot thanks to him. Makoto is easier to get into, it’s smaller scale and more personal I guess. 

#silly asks #silly answers #makoto salt #the thing with Kamo's arc is that when you ask 'why' to why a character or a situation is the way it is you can give a decent 'because' #when you ask 'why' with kane's arc.....you don't get that #you get a 'because' but then you keep asking 'why' #why does makoto have to stalk the PT? Because the principal is making her do it #But why is he making her do it? Because the conspiracy is breathing down his neck. #1) WHY her tho? seems a bit contrived and might not work 2) WHY do they care about some principal? #Because......um...... For 2 because he's part of the conspiracy. #Why is he part of the Conspiracy then? Um....they put him there? #BUT WHY did they put him there? Cause....it's prestigious? #BUT the game said Kamo fixed the school's bad rep so it wasn't always that...and he hired kamo.....SO WHY does he owe them getting a job at- #-a shitty school? WHY did he need help getting a job there? WHY is Haru there if- #you see? kane's arc unravels a good portion of what P5 (a least school) is based off of #vs Anne #Why won't Shiho tell Anne about the abuse? She's afraid anne might think it's her (anne's) fault and she loves her friend and wants to- #protect her. why doens't anne tell shiho? Anne doesn't want shiho to think it's shiho's fault and wants to protect shiho #kamo's arc is full of dramatic irony and people making wrong choices (which they might not realize in hindsight) #why doesn't anne know shiho is being abused? Anne thinks shiho is upset about her position on the team also Kamo won't let anyone watch #the practices so we just take the team's words at face value also the teams are protecting kamo to keep from getting hurt- #also shiho won't tell anne anything and so anne just assumes it's a rough practice and that shiho is afraid of losing her spot ALSO #ALSO anne isn't psychic also anne is outcasted from the rest of the school so she doesn't interact with them so she doesn't know what's up- #with other people and- #you can go on they have their bases covered in kamo's arc they have reasons #kamo's arc is also a bit more grounded (kane being ungrounded because of the stupid princpal and his bs0 #sorry for the side rant just....... #you don't have to agree with decisions in the kamo arc...but at least they GAVE us reasonings (and the chars are aware #in hindsight that their decisions weren't great and chose to learn from them)

[theheartsmistakes]

The Last Night Part XII

(Author’s Notes: Sup guys! I hope you had a fantastic Fourth of July (for the American readers) and celebrated safely. If you are not American, I hope you had a fantastic weekend! Thank you for your patience while I worked through some writer’s block. I think I’m getting back into a swing though. I started reading a book that is set in the Edwardian period and it has helped me find the dialect and voice that I started with. I’ve been reading a lot of contemporary literature as of late and I think it’s influenced my writing a little, which is fine, but I’m fighting to remain consistent. I’m working on a novel of my own and it’s also based in the Edwardian period, but in a fantasy world, and I’ve been struggling to stay in the same dialect with that too. Anyhoo... I’m rambling... here is part 12. I hope that you enjoy it. Please hit the like, reblog, leave me a comment to cry happily over, and follow along for updates. Be safe! Be kind! Stay healthy.)

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Here is Part VIII

Here is Part IX

Here is Part X

Here is Part XI

Part XII

The following morning, James was settled in a wing chair in the game room, nominally enthralled by a short collection of poetry by Keats. It’d been a comfort to read Keats’ poetry when he would be feeling out of sorts. Perhaps because his father insisted on reading it to him as a child before bed. It seemed even in his adolescent and young adulthood, after weeks of sleepless nights cramming for examinations, going through drills during the day, and shivering through countless patrols in the chilly streets of London, he always enjoyed dozing in the warmth of a well-made fire, with Keats’ heart bleeding through the pages of his collection.

This naturally led to his considering what Keats would do in a situation like his. As his mind wandered into his thoughts, he was aware of the scent of late-blooming climbing rose coming in the window on a puff of air and he noted that the scent might have prompted the thought and he wondered whether Matthew would still be Matthew if he smelled of diesel and boot polish instead of bay rum, and what Cordelia, who smelled of roses and lime blossom to him, would be doing at this time of the day if she weren’t lying in her sick bed.

A swift clatter of boots on the stairs heralded Matthew’s arrival, and he closed the book, without the relief he’d been searching for, for even Keats couldn’t keep his mind from wandering.

“The Silent Brothers have gone,” said Matthew, his tone composed with his usual preferred demeanor of bored indifference.

“Gone where?” asked James.

“Back to the Citadel, I’m assuming,” said Matthew. He tugged at his starched shirt collar, and James could see he was warm with sweat about the neck, as if he had run all the way here. “Brother Zachariah remains and another, but I cannot recall his name, they all look the same to me.”

“Any word on Cordelia or Alastair?”

“Unfortunately not and the adults want a word with us in the dining room post haste. I assume they want a detailed description of our knowledge concerning the events of the night.” Matthew slumped in the other wing chair and covered his face with his arm. “

“Well, that’s certainly a blow to my afternoon plans,” said James, keeping his tone light in the hope that he could convince his parents and friends that he was calm enough to stand outside the bedroom that Cordelia had been moved into. They moved her in the night while he slept and no one would tell him the location due to his sudden outbursts. “If the other Brothers have left, that’s surely a good sign that Cordelia and Alastair are healing and are no longer in need of their attention.”

“It’s possible,” said Matthew from under his sleeve. “My parents are here, as are Kit’s and Thomas’s.” He groaned and added, “Charles insisted on coming as well. My life is over.”

James cursed. “What does he want?”

“‘To get to the bottom of this most unfortunate disaster’,” said Matthew, “his words, not mine. He’ll insist on lecturing us about how insubordinate we’ve all been, and how, seeing as we are underage, we have no business going out after the Carstairs siblings without briefing the adults with the situation first. He’ll make me file his paperwork for a month.”

“You’re being a bit dramatic,” said James.

Even as James spoke he felt the hypocrisy of offering comfort instead of truth. But what truth could he speak to his parabatai? Remembering the whispered conversations between his own parents after James had returned from near death by demon poisoning, James knew with a sinking feeling that his own investigation towards his grandfather would need to be done in absolute secrecy.

“Charles has been wanting to get me behind a desk since we were children,” said Matthew. “My mother will surely not object now that Shadowhunters are being plucked from their carriages in the streets.”

“Well, lucky for Charles, you’ve the best penmanship of all of us,” said James.

“So glad to hear that your humor has returned,”groaned Matthew, hanging his head so that his face was hidden beneath the fall of his hair. “Even if it is at my expense.”

“Pull yourself together, Math,” said James. He stood and tugged the edges of his jacket down as if to reinforce his words. “It will not serve to allow the entire household to hear such agitation. We have faced our parent’s fury before, this will be no different, I’m sure.” There was a pause, and James gazed out the window to allow Matthew a moment to compose himself. While he envied Matthew’s free and easy, passionate nature, his capacity for intense friendships, he always felt squeamish in the face of Matthew’s occasional display of emotion. He was accustomed to his own emotional outburst and Matthew insisting on James to calm down.

“You are right, of course,” said Matthew at last. He pulled a large silk handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his forehead. “Good to see you back to your more rational nature.”

“Thank you,” said James, fully aware that Matthew did not altogether mean it as a compliment. It was hardly fair that Matthew should provoke him into a purse-lipped rigidity and then insult him for it, but James’s first concern was to protect his friend from his own self-indulgence. “Now why don’t we make a suitable plan?” he added. “I’ve learned long ago that it’s best to just nod in the presence of angered adults.”

Matthew nodded as if to show his ability to follow direction. “Perhaps we should share what we know about Belial.”

“I think not,” said James. “My parent’s have already made it quite clear that they don’t want us involved in the investigation any further. We will have to continue it without their knowing.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” said Matthew. “He nearly possessed you and tried to kill Cordelia twice.”

“Which is why we must continue the investigation on how to properly kill him because it can be sure that he will not stop until he has what he wants,” said James. “There has to be a way to kill him properly.”

“I hope it’s something obvious,” said Matthew, “like spritzing him with water or feeding him chocolate.”

A sound of voices in the hallway outside the game room was followed by a light knocking on the door and Thomas’s voice saying, “Of course I’ve forgotten the secret knock, it was far too complex to begin with.”

“They’re here to fetch us,” said Matthew urgently. James noticed that he did have a strange, pale look about his face, but perhaps, he thought, this was the properly deserved effect of too much rough cider.

“By the angel, it’s only Christopher and Thomas,” he said. “You and Thomas can look pale and interesting together. Of course, he’s only just lost his sister. Perhaps his situation will help your sense of perspective.”

“Your sarcasm lacks the delicacy that would render it amusing,” said Matthew. “But thank you for your reason. Your permanent frown always brings me to my senses.”

“I do not have a permanent frown,” said James. He took a brief look into the mirror over the mantle and consciously adjusted his features to a half smile, which only seemed to make him look as if he were in pain.

“Hello gentleman,” said Matthew,  “do come in. It’s mercifully clear of authority in here.”

Christopher and Thomas came through the door, and James found himself slightly relieved that they were alone. Both of them were neatly dressed in tweed trousers, buttoned up shirts with suspenders. Christophers glasses rested on the end of his nose while Thomas' shirt strained heavily around the illustrious girth of his arms. Neither of them seemed to wear any hint of the previous night’s grievances.

“Welcome,” he said. “Is it time then?”

“Just about,” said Thomas and folded his arms across his chest. “I’ve only just arrived with mum and dad and only convinced Christopher’s parents to allow him to leave their side by promising that we were only going as far as to fetch the two of you.”

“It’s already begun,” Matthew blurted out. “Behold men, your last minutes of freedom.”

“What’s he on about?” asked Thomas.

“Pay him no mind,” said James. “He’s consumed with the notion that due to the events of the last few nights our parents are going to handcuff us to desks until we come of age.”

“My mother suggested it,” said Christopher, “but I think my father has made progress against the idea.”

“See,” said James, gesturing to Christopher. “If my aunt Cecily can be brought to sense then so will your parents. Let’s just do what they ask of us and resume our investigation without their knowledge.”

“So not much different from what we’ve been doing for the past seventeen years?” said Matthew, shooting James a look. James could only roll his eyes as Christopher and Thomas drifted to the two wing chairs, where they sat and continued, for some minutes, to turn over the circumstances of the secret Belial investigation in a low and urgent manner.

“Any word on Cordelia and Alastair?” asked James.

Thomas nose flared as he met James’s gaze with an expression of frankness. “No,” he said. “Not that I’ve heard.”

James leaned against the wall and felt an echo of the agony that he had felt the night before and had to quell an urge to run out of the room and demand that someone give him information on the state of his fiance, seeing as far as everyone knew they were still engaged.

“I overheard our mother’s talking,” said Christopher to Matthew. “Alastair woke for a moment last night and was able to communicate with the Silent Brothers, but he is instructed to rest without visitors so that the injuries to his brain can continue to heal.” Matthew grumbled something under his breath. “Cordelia has been placed into an induced coma that she is unable to wake up from on her own. When her injuries have had some time to heal they’ll attempt to wake her up. The good news however is that the cure for her demon poisoning has allowed the runes to take a more immediate effect so she is healing.”

Christopher offered James a reassuring smile, which he appreciated more than he could properly express.

“Forget being tied to a desk,” muttered Matthew. “My mother will probably request having me put into an induced coma instead.”

Tessa Gray sat in the plush velvet couch in the front drawing room with her legs crossed at the ankles and her husband’s hand gently pressed against her shoulder while he sipped brandy from a glass tumbler in his free hand. Aunt Cecily was seated in a wing chair beside the fire with her husband Gabriel a respectful six feet away from Will. Aunt Sophie sat at the other end of the couch with Tessa, her hand held softly in the clutches of Gideon, both of them still carrying the misery of the loss of their eldest daughter Barbara. Charlotte Fairchild stood behind her husband’s wheelchair and beside her eldest son Charles. James knocked on the door and went in followed by Matthew, Christopher, and Thomas.

“Gentlemen,” said Will. “I hope that you all slept well and are prepared for punishment and ridicule.”

“William,” warned Tessa. “We simply want you to recount your details from the night the Carstair’s were attacked.

Matthew shifted beside James.

It had only just occurred to him that he hadn’t seen Lucie since they arrived at the Institute with Cordelia and she wasn’t in the room now. “Where is Lucie? She would have more to tell than any of us would.”

“Lucie has already recounted her experience,” said Tessa, one eyebrow raised. “She’s resting now. It’s the four of you that we wish to speak to now.”

“We are enacting an investigation on this prince of hell Belial,” said Charles, as he moved forward into the center of the room. “If we’re to be successful in locating him and effectively killing him then we need all of the information that you have concerning him.”

“I’ve already told my parents everything that I know about Belial,” said James. Both Will and Tessa turned him a look. James exhaled and began his recount of his experiences with Belial.

“And you believe Belial to be the one to have taken Miss Carstairs?” asked Charles when James was finished.

“I never saw him myself,” said James. “That would be a question for Lucie.”

“She claimed not to have seen him either,” said Charles, removing a pocket watch and checking the time before slipping it back into his trousers. “She said that she found Cordelia in the fog badly injured. She said that she lost you, but once the fog rolled away, you appeared again. Is this not the truth?”

James wasn’t sure what would compel his sister to lie about the events of Cordelia’s rescue, but he had to assume that there was a good reason and one that he would explore later when he could speak to his sister himself.

“It’s the truth,” said James. “As I told you before Lucie disappeared into the fog and I ran after her. We lost each other for some time, and when the fog moved off, she was there again with Cordelia.”

Charles stroked his chin. “It’s been unanimously agreed upon that the four of you, including Lucie and Anna, will be restricted to local patrols during daylight hours and are to report in detail any and all demon activity. If you so choose to break your restrictions then your punishment will be as sever as I see warranted.”

“What exactly would you see warranted?” asked James.

“You’ll be sent to Alicante,” said Charles, his eyes marked on Matthew, “where you’ll remain until you come of age and if you continue to disobey direct orders then the punishment will be as severe as stripping you of your marks.”

“Charles,” Charlotte hissed from beside her husband. “We never mentioned—“

“It is for their own safety, mother,” said Charles, squaring his shoulders. “I do hope it doesn’t come to such extremes, but in this case, the safety of one is the safety of them all. I do hope this will encourage them to keep each other accountable.”

Though it pained James that these new founded restrictions would limit his personal research on finding a way to kill Belial, it did not discourage him in the least. In fact, he was even more excited about the prospect of an opportunity to infuriate Charles. If one of them were to be sent to Alicante, he was sure the rest would follow, and he couldn’t strip them all of their marks. What with Shadowhunters being down in numbers as it were. Charles tactics were classic: infiltrate fear into the army without ever enacting punishment. Not that Charles would ever find out if they were going against him. Charles was too busy building his castle out of sand to see what goes on around him.

“I think Charles has allowed power to go to his head,” said Will, under his breath. He’d been in something of high spirits since Jem had arrived at the Institute and been ordered to stay to help the Carstairs siblings mend. “Don’t fret, Jamie boy, if you are stripped of your marks, Coleridge lived a life of poverty and had to be sustained by charitable friends and he turned out fine.”

“William,” Tessa hissed. “Do be serious for a moment. Jamie, as much as we regret taking away your personal freedoms, it is of the utmost importance that you heed the restrictions put in place for you. Even if he is being a power hungry, conniving, son of a--”

“What your mother is trying to convey,” said Will, moving in front of her, “is that you should be careful and mindful of your action.”

“I could always become a postman like Trollope?” said James. “I’ll begin to work on my beard.”

Will bellowed and clapped James on the shoulder just as the doors to the drawing room were opened by the footman and in walked Brother Zachariah with Sona beside him. Her graying hair has come loose and spilled down her back in an array of perfect waves that mirrored the texture of her daughters. Her expression was somber; deep circles sat under her eyes and her lips were impossibly dry.

Her arm was entwined with Jem’s as they shuffled into the room.

James, followed by Tessa and Will, hurried across the room to meet them.

“Mrs. Carstairs is in need of some rest,” said Brother Zachariah. “She would like to request that James remain with Miss Cordelia while she is away.”

James took her free hand and offered it a reassuring squeeze.

“She is lost in there,” said Sona, her voice rough and weathered. “I can feel it. It helps if you read to her. Let her hear the sound of your voice so she has something to walk towards in all of that darkness.”

“I can show you to a room,” said Tessa, a note of emotion in her voice that she quickly cleared away.

“That would be lovely thank you,” said Sona and removed her arm from Jem’s for Tessa’s.

“Perhaps some light broth,” said Brother Zachariah. “She hasn’t eaten much and I worry for the child.”

Tessa nodded and led Sona from the room.

Brother Zachariah turned his attention to James. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better after some sleep,” said James. “I can go to Cordelia now if you wish.”

“She is having a bath,” said Jem, “but in the next hour. Prepare to make yourself comfortable, perhaps bring some literature. As Sona said before, it is of the utmost importance that you continue to speak to her, give her something to walk towards, or the Cordelia that you know can become lost in her thoughts forever.”

James' voice became bitter. “Why is she in a coma if it means she could become lost inside of her mind? Can’t you wake her up?”

“The injuries that she has sustained would be too terrible to be conscious during,” said Jem. “The body is able to heal much quicker if the mind is asleep to the pain.”

James drew himself into as stiff of a column as he could and clamped his teeth down on a small quiver of his jaw. He resolved himself in that moment to give Cordelia whatever she needed; if he had to read to her for days, weeks, even months then that was what he would do.

(Next update is going to be Sunday 7/12... maybe)

#the shadowhunter chronicles #fanfiction #thelastnight #jordelia fanfiction #jordelia #james herondale #Cordelia Carstairs #the last hours #chain of gold #Chain of Iron #cassandra clare #edwardian #Matthew Fairchild #Matthew Fairchild being dramatic #thomas lightwood #christopher lightwood #will herondale #tessa gray #jem carstairs #Brother Zachariah #Brother Zacharide-him-like-a-bad-pony #Brother Sixpackariah #Charles forever alone Fairchild

[harrysgoldrush]

and they were roommates {h.s.} i

masterlist

one of the perks of being roommates with harry is that he’s an honest audience.

you’re both writers, with him being the successful musician he is and you being a best-selling romance novelist which works out perfectly for the two of you when writer’s block takes over.

it there’s a chapter or moment you’re unsure of, he’s always eager to help even if he seems busy. you’ve always done the same for him when he can’t find the right word or turn of phrase to carry his latest tune, you’re quick to set aside your laptop to help. 

still, anyone who knows you two knows that you’re the two most competitive people in the world.

every bit of advice comes with its own witty comment.

harry never fails to find your weaker moments, suggesting that the youthful confession of love in chapter four should be shyer and that your main characters should struggle more when nervous to tell the other how they feel.

you’re quick as a whip to point out any misspellings or made-up words, or as he likes to call it ‘harryisms’ and advise a shift of words to make the flow of lyrics fit better when he has too many syllables.

its all good-natured, you’re both stubborn perfectionists in the end and highly supportive of the others.

but that doesn’t stop you from sneaking into his bathroom early in the mornings to bring harry asperin, having learned early on that he has a nasty habit of falling asleep in the bathtub with his typewriter when he needs a late-night change of scenery when struggling with finalizing a song.

its become a habit for harry to get you an espresso every morning in the weeks leading up to a deadline when sleep is chased away by nerves and procrastination. he hates to hear you fell asleep at another meeting with your publisher. 

still, the loving jabs at each other just serve as distractions.

he’ll loudly barge into your room at 2am to tell you your typing is keeping him up late as he slowly picks up the latest printed chapter of your book, tucking into his ridiculously fluffy yellow robe as he tells himself its just a much needed late-night read.

you simply scoff at him, not looking away from your laptop as you tell him you’ll stop as soon as he stops singing so loudly in the morning when he makes breakfast, carefully pausing your harry styles radio on spotify and hoping he couldn’t hear his music blasting through your earbuds.

it’s never been a secret you two admire each other’s work, there isn’t an unsupportive bone in either of your bodies.

and its been that way since the two of you met in a rushed coffee meeting in between business meetings in between work. he needed a ‘flatmate’ and you needed an apartment closer to your publishing house.

a friend of a friend had mentioned you at some point during a fashion show two years ago and harry was happy to reach out and ask to meet.

harry sat hunched over his warm coffee mug, his olive green jacket collar popped up to keep him warm as he watched you carefully sip your pomegranate tea, unbothered by the wind as you sat outside the fairly empty cafe.

his hair was longer back then, being relentlessly pushed into his cheery face with every gust of wind until you had graciously offered him a dark yellow hair tie. the two of you had instantly begun chatting like old friends.

“it’s freezing out here,” he exclaimed, his teeth chattering and his eyes wide as he held his mug close under his chin, ducking down to feel the steam on his face. after another particularly strong gust of wind, harry set his mug down and reached down to zip up his jacket. his brows furrowed and his face grew comically annoyed, making you stifle a laugh, before he shifted back in his seat and began to tug at the thin material of his white shirt which had somehow gotten caught in the teeth of his zipper. Once he successfully freed his shirt and fully zipped up his jacket, he smiled widely and grabbed his mug again, squeezing it between his hands.

his nails were a deep blue, his neat manicure both impressed you and caused you to curl your hands up to hide you last minute and very messy attempt to paint you nails red before rushing here to meet him. his ripped jeans and designer boots put your leggings and worn trainers to shame. 

but something in his kind eyes told you it didn’t matter to harry. he had seemed ecstatic to see you, practically leaping onto you once he took in your faded fleetwood mac shirt you definitely stole from your mom before going off to college, crushing you in a surprisingly comforting hug.

“sorry. i guess i’m stuck in the habit of sitting outside, i’ve only gone in to order.”

“you don't have to apologize, ‘sides, it has a nice view of the park.”

“exactly. perfect to people watch.”

he had laughed at that, nodding as you casually checked the time on your phone.

“sorry, what time is it?”

“one thirty two.”

“don’t you have that meeting at two?”

“oh,” blinking, it dawned on you that you did indeed have a meeting you were scared shitless for. “it’s okay, i can reschedule.”

“no, no its fine. we can wrap this up.” finishing up his coffee, he set his mug down and rubbed his hands together quickly. “jeremy hatcher said you were still looking for a flatmate in the city. my flat is far too big for just me and it’d be nice to not come home to an empty house; i haven’t been adjusting well to living alone. i don’ t have anything planned for the next few months but normally, i travel for wo--”

“i know who you are, harry,” you laughed. when he looked at you surprised, you added, “the whole world does, your band has been the focus of every tabloid for weeks since you decided to go on hiatus.”

seeing him grimace made you realize that you never wanted to see him frown again. 

“i am so, so sorry that was uncalled for.”

“maybe a bit.”

“you should make plans.”

“what?”

“just because you don’t have a band anymore doesn’t mean you can’t keep doing what you love. i’m sure everyone tells you this but its a blessing in disguise,”  sighing, you rubbed your neck, unsure of why you were opening up so quickly to a practical stranger you wanted to live with. “i got laid off from my last job where i was cowriting mystery novels with eight other writers. i have a draft due in twenty minutes that i’m terrified to deliver because i’ve never published a book that didn’t have my name in tiny print. i’m scared people read my books because of the other seven authors but i’m also happy because this is my work. its what i want to write and if no one reads it, so be it because i know i’ll read it. maybe my parents will too. but i’ll have said what i want to have said.”

harry’s smile from earlier grew tenfold and he quickly stood up, startling you. “You shouldn’t be nervous about that meeting. i think you’ll be fine. and i’ll be happy to read it once you move in.”

“what?” you asked in shock, watching as harry dug through his jacket pockets before awkwardly shoving a hand down the tight pocket of his skinny jeans, pulling out a few crumpled dollars which he set on the table, placing his mug ontop of them to protect them from the breeze. “you hardly know me! you can’t just ask me to live with you after half an hour. i could be a murderer. don’”t ask me to be your roommate yet!”

stepping back, harry chuckled and shrugged, his hands moving up to grab at the drawstrings of his hood. “i’d like to think i know you well. besides, that’s the best part, we can’t rush getting to know each other.”

“you can’t just leave!” you exclaimed as he pulled his hood up and began to walk away.

“yes i can,” harry spun on his heel to take one last glance before frantically tapping at his bare wrist, “and you have a meeting to get to!” 

“harry!”

“i know you’ll do great roommate!”

#harry styles tpwk #harry styles blurb #harry styles blog #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry #harry edward styles #harry styles #romance movies #romance novels #romance #styles #roommates #friends to lovers #harry styles x y/n