#im holding back from writing handwritten letters here

[choidaisy]

where mingyu finds memories of his first girlfriend and decides to send her a message upon realizing she is nearby (part 1)

Part 2 here

words: 1,892 warnings: not many, just mingyu feeling nostalgic and regretful about past choices a/n: i think im a bit sad after writing this, i wish i could hug mingyu

Upon awakening at dawn, Mingyu felt an unexpected urge to revisit the past. The day promised to be busy with a looming show, but he decided to dedicate some time to organizing dusty relics that had rested for years in his closet.

As he pulled boxes from the dark hideaway, one of them caught his attention in a peculiar way. "I didn't even remember you were here," he chuckled, releasing a sigh of nostalgia. He sat on the floor, unraveling the treasures buried in layers of memories.

The lid of the box, when lifted, unleashed a specter from the past. Photographs, yellowed and blurred as if the previous decade had wrapped them in a nostalgic veil. Mingyu held one of them, observing with eyes that absorbed every detail. A smile, immortalized on paper, evoked long-dormant emotions.

Among the relics, a crumpled and aged letter captured his attention. The faded ink gave the words a melancholic tone, as if time itself had intertwined them with sadness. Unfolding it, Mingyu encountered handwritten messages, a distant voice echoing through the lines on paper.

Each item taken from the box told a story from ten years ago, a time when the world seemed simpler, and smiles came more easily. The room, once bathed in morning light, transformed into a theater of shadows and longing, where the silent echo of the past filled every corner.

Mingyu, sitting on the floor, embraced his memories as if holding a part of himself that had been left behind. The clock on the wall, like a silent witness, marked the present, but the open box cast a bridge to a persistent past.

Thus, he spent the morning immersed in the melancholy of recollections from a decade ago, a journey through time that left scars on the fabric of his soul, like indelible marks of a sad song echoing beyond the decades.

Mingyu's gaze lifted towards the ceiling as a specific photograph emerged from his memories. He closed his eyes, leaning against the wall. The image captured a moment of genuine laughter between him and Y/N, an instant immortalized where worries were forgotten in the face of her amusing words. A bittersweet smile illuminated his face, contrasting with the frozen joy in the photo.

Mingyu's mind traveled back in time, recalling how Y/N had the gift of eliciting laughter from him at every turn. Nostalgia enveloped him like a mist, and he found himself smiling in a different way than that depicted in that old picture.

"How must she be these days?" he questioned amidst the shadows of the past. He decided to explore the virtual world in the hope of finding traces of her life. He opened Instagram, typing her name in the search bar with a tentative expectation.

And there she was. Y/N's account, though not abundant in photos, revealed the path she had taken over the years. Mingyu scrolled through the images, witnessing fragments of a distant life. She had grown, distancing herself from the scene they once shared.

The photographs told silent stories of adventures and growth, of laughter that now echoed elsewhere. Mingyu, lost in the visual narrative, felt the distance that time had imposed between them. A sigh escaped, echoing in the quietness of the room as he absorbed the metamorphosis of the one who had once been the constant source of his joy.

He opened photo after photo, immersing himself in the visual narratives that composed Y/N's life. He read comment after comment, each word resonating like a melancholic melody that transported him to a time that no longer existed. "Damn, why am I doing this to myself?" he wondered, a storm of emotions churning within him. On impulse, he turned off his phone screen, trying to distance himself from those bittersweet memories.

He closed the virtual box that was her profile, and with a heavy sigh, he promised himself that it was time to close this chapter of the past. The day progressed slowly, each second feeling like an additional weight on his shoulders. Mingyu became entangled in the whirlwind of emotions, struggling to find a peace that seemed elusive.

When night settled and the show in Seoul finally came to an end, Mingyu remained backstage, the energy of the stage still pulsating in his veins. A persistent intuition whispered in his ear, urging him to reopen her profile. A mixture of curiosity and self-destruction led him to succumb to the silent call.

The screen lit up again, revealing Y/N's world in a way he couldn't avoid. The past resurfaced in digital colors, the photographs a window to a time he thought he had left behind. Mingyu found himself scrolling through the images, a roller coaster of emotions sweeping over him as the silent backstage of the show became the backdrop for a personal drama unfolding before the cold glow of the screen.

Y/N had posted a story, an update that hadn't existed before. Mingyu took a deep breath, feeling his heartbeat quicken as he embraced all the risks of being caught snooping on her social media. "What the fuck is this?" he exclaimed, the intensity of his voice echoing and surprising those around him.

"What's going on, Mingyu?" Wonwoo asked, showing surprise at the sudden reaction.

"Oh... sorry, guys," Mingyu stammered, distancing himself from the group still stunned by what he had just discovered.

Sitting on a bench, disbelief written on his face, Mingyu fixed his gaze on the phone. "Y/N, are you here? Were you watching our show?" he whispered to himself, as if uttering the words made the situation more tangible.

Without giving himself much time to think, Mingyu decided to respond to the story. "You here?" he added a shy emoji, a mix of surprise and anticipation that shone through the typed words.

The night stretched on, a tapestry of anticipation woven with threads of uncertainty. Mingyu, immersed in the anticipation of a response that felt surreal, watched the hours drag on. Before heading home, he joined the other band members, sharing a few glasses of beer in a ritual that would normally be synonymous with relaxation and laughter. However, his mind was elsewhere, more focused on his phone than the lively conversation permeating the table.

Even amid laughter and toasts, Mingyu was shrouded in a cloud of thoughts, lost in his own reflections. Tension hung over him as his eyes occasionally drifted to the device, eager for a notification that had yet to arrive.

It was then that Mingyu made an unusual decision. He was the first to say goodbye, breaking the tradition of staying until the end. The night continued for the others, but for him, the journey back home was marked by a heavy silence and an anticipation that stretched beyond the visible night horizon.

It was around six in the morning, and Mingyu was still tossing and turning in bed, desperately trying to fall asleep when a notification flashed on his phone. "Mingyu...?"

She had finally responded. Without thinking much, he initiated a voice call right there, in the Instagram direct messages chat.

"Oh... Mingyu. Is everything okay?" She answered with a cautious voice, a tone laden with surprise and concern.

"Hm, hey Y/N, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called, I just..."

"Did something happen?"

"I just... thought about you all day... I'm sorry." He scratched his head, words coming out in a thread, his voice choked with emotion, an echo of the restlessness consuming him.

"Are you drunk? Your voice sounds (pause) weird (pause) and it's like six in the morning..."

"No, I'm not drunk... I'm sorry, Y/N. I'll hang up, I shouldn't have done this." There was a tense pause, a contained sigh in his voice, echoing regret. The girl on the other end of the line sensed the vulnerability in every word, the complexity of what was unfolding in this unexpected conversation.

"No, Mingyu... Stay on the line, I'm just surprised... It's been so long since we last talked. I thought it might be an emergency or something."

"Yea, quite a while... Almost ten years?"

"Something like that... How are you? Did you have to wake up early today?"

"Oh... actually, I haven't been able to sleep yet..." A pause to take a deep breath. "And you, why are you up early?"

"I'm at the airport, heading back home..."

"Oh, so you didn't move back to Korea?" Sadness echoed in his voice as he verbalized the realization.

"No, just passing through..."

"Ah... I was really surprised when I saw you were watching my show."

"My niece is a big Seventeen fan," she explained.

"Daennie?" That's how he used to call little Shin Dae years ago. "God, she was a little kid... She's, like, twelve now?" The question arose gently, an attempt to map the years that had slipped away, even though distance had kept them apart.

"Yea" she laughed from the other side of the screen. "She's almost my height now."

"That's crazy..."

"Yea, time flew by... Mingyu, how did you find my Instagram?"

"Oh, about that... I stumbled upon a photo of us yesterday morning... I got curious about you and looked you up... Don't think I'm a stalker or anything."

She laughed on the other side of the screen, a gentle laugh hovering between nostalgia and the present.

"Y/N, I miss you, you have no idea how much..." he confessed. "You know, you'll always be my first girlfriend, my first love... I regret my decision so much."

"Mingyu, you didn't decide alone, it was the wisest choice. You know that."

"Honestly, I don't know if it was worth it."

"How not? You're living your biggest dream."

"But you're not here with me..." The last sentence slipped out like a sigh, heavy with a lament that echoed between the words, outlining a wound that time hadn't completely healed.

"Mingyu, don't do this." She heard him let out the sound of a sniffle. "Mingyu? Are you crying?"

"I'm sorry for saying these things, Y/N... I just wish I could go back in time and make different choices; I would have found a way to make both things work well."

"You would have regretted it, Mingyu. Look at how you're a star now."

"I regretted the same way."

"Mingyu, listen to me... We were very happy together, but our story happened at the wrong time. We were young, but we had an important choice. We did the right thing." She paused. "We grew up well."

"And will our story ever happen at the right time?"

"I don't have the answer to your question." Her response hung in the air, a sincere confession that floated between the uncertainty of the future and the certainty of the past. Silence became a delicate bridge between two hearts that, even at a distance, still shared an intertwined story.

"Y/N, I always thought I couldn't have you, that you're someone I should forget, but..." He was interrupted by the girl who spoke hastily.

"Mingyu, I need to hang up; I'm boarding now... we'll talk later."

"I wanted you to know that..." The call ended. "I still love you." Mingyu murmured to the silence of the phone, the words lingering in the void like an unspoken sigh, while the sound of farewell echoed in the distance between them.

Part 2 maybe? let me know :)

#svt fanfic #svt imagines #seventeen #svt #svt fluff #svt x reader #mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu x y/n #mingyu x you #mingyu fluff #mingyu scenarios #mingyu fic #mingyu imagines

[gogomatthew]

You’re mine

KINKTOBER DAY 2: Mutual masturbation

PAIRING: SPENCER REID X READER

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST HERE🎃💗

warnings: stalking • mutual masturbation • semi public sex • humiliation • phone sex • paranoia? • mentions of violence • let me know if I missed any •

A/N: sorry about the KTOBER delay.. this ones a little dark but ill make up with a sweet one next week! reminder english isnt my first language but feel to correct any grammar mistakes

summary: Spencer fears he is being stalked after receiving gifts from a secret admirer only to fall for her • MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI 18+

“Hey whats wrong?” Morgan stops Spencer as he rushes into the BAU frantic with an orange envelope at hand “Gather everyone in the conference room please” he gets out of morgans grip and makes his way there. “Whats this about?” Hotch walks in confused on the whole situation, raising a questioning eyebrow at Spencer “Ive been on edge the past month and yesterday I received this..” he hands the envelope to Hotch. Inside theres a handwritten letter with the words “I know you were thinking about me” and multiple photographs of Spencer jacking off in his room.

Truthfully he didn’t want to show anyone but this was getting out of hand. In the photograph his room was illuminated by warm toned lamp, his mouth hung open and anyone with half a brain could assume he was letting out sounds of pleasure, his head was thrown back and his eyes were shut tightly, while his hand wrapped around his leaking dick as he lazily sat on his desk chair with his trousers hanging around his ankles. Hotch’s eyes go wide for a second as he quickly puts the pictures away only making his subordinates blush grow a burning pink. The team share a few glances and connect the dots in an instant. “Morgan you have experience in obsession crimes.. what do you think this is?” Hotch asks after analyzing the letter he spoke up “Are these the only “gifts” you’ve gotten? any other notes we should know about?” morgan glances up at him making sure to put emphasis on the word “gifts”

“I-I mean theres always a lingering feeling im being watched and I got a bouquet of flowers last monday along with a letter every other day from a “secret admirer” but I didn’t think much of it.. I just assumed some neighborhood boy was playing a prank on me..” he says running his fingers through his silky brunette hair, clearly stressed out “looks like you’ve got a groupie” spencer looks back down to morgan “HUH?” morgan hands the letter back to spencer “The writing is clearly written by a female, its dainty and not aggressive.. almost as if to show her love and devotion to you instead of threatening you. That isnt to say she wont get violent later on.. it may trigger her to see you with another woman around her age maybe something set her off and decided to finally make her move.” hotch lets out a breath “Morgan, Reid, you stay here and find a motive, Prentiss and I will go to the scene and try to get more geographical information on how they even managed to take these photos.. wheels up in 30” and with that everyone’s getting to work.

They made a geographic profile, retraced steps, came up with a profile and even a plan on how to catch the unsub. “We think our unsub is a female in her mid 20s, if you were to cross her path shed blend right in, shes not very confident or careful but she is smart, if you bumped into her she’d apologize even if it wasnt her fault, she has an obsessive personality though she probably doesn’t even realize it odds are if she were to go through a psychotic break she would only go after Spencer or people close to him so we don’t have to worry about civilian safety” after notifying the local PD they develop a plan.. Emily was going to pretend to be Spencers girlfriend, holding hands on the subway, walking him home, spending time in his apartment ect, to get a rise out of the unsub, it was a long shot that youd even buy it if youve been stalking spencer but it was worth a try “you sure you got this?” she looks up at Hotch as he adjust her mic pack and silently nods as Spencer copies her movement.

That afternoon he and Emily walk out of the subway station hand in hand making their way to his apartment, god Spencer wasn’t lying.. Emily could feel eyes on her but couldn’t pin point where they came from but they managed to make goosebumps arise from her. That night there was no love letter at his door. This was either the start of a psychotic break or you backing down. Morgan was stationed at the location they assumed the photographs were taken, assuming you’d come back. Emily spent the night at spencers place and left during the early hours of the morning to make it all the more convincing. After she left Spencer did his morning routine like usual, a shower, setting the coffee pot, changing, grabbing his satchel and heading out but he was stopped by a piece of paper that was stuck between the front door and the frame, falling onto the ground. The note was different, it seemed messy and rushed. It read “Im still here” a shiver ran down his spine. His gut told him to just get on the subway and go to work and develop his highly intelligent team but his brain told him to take matters into his own hands. He stormed out of his building and made his way onto the sidewalk hoping to be able catch you before you got too far. He had the profile now all he needed to do was find you and he knew just how to do that. He stormed into the subway station proceeding to walk a little faster than usual. He felt eyes on him and immediately he turned around and met your eyes by sheer luck. He kept his eyes on you and you stayed frozen in place looking away from his gaze but not moving an inch.. could it be you? He knew morgan always trusted his gut and maybe it was time he did the same. As he started approaching you your eyes went wide and you sped walked away. You fit the profile, the only thing they didn’t mention was how attractive you were. He caught up to you quickly having the advantage of long legs “hey” he puts a hand on your shoulder giving you goosebumps “im meeting my girlfriend for coffee but I dont know which track to take.. do you think you could help me?” he give you a nice smile that you return but he notices your demeanor going cold at the word girlfriend.

“yeah totally! where are you meeting?” your fists are clenched at your sides, this was almost too easy “Virginia coffee house” he says simply “you’re gonna want to take the 53, it should get here in about 10 minutes.. that’s actually where im heading too” he smiles a little wider “I don’t suppose you mind waiting with me then?” you nod “not at all!…” you fidget with your fingers “actually im gonna go to the restroom” you turn to rush off with him hot on your heels, he wont forgive himself if he lets you get away.. he has to trust his gut when it’s screaming right at him he needs to know more. He follows you into the bathroom at the station which is thankfully empty and locks the door behind him “Spencer what are you doing?” you say and quickly realize your mistake as his expression falters “I never said my name was spencer..” your eyes widen as you start to back up into the sink “sorry I- my brains all scattered” you try to play it off with a laugh but hes not laughing. He starts to get closer and closer to you as you continue to step back “heres what I think and feel free to correct me if im wrong, but just know ill know if you’re lying, I study human behavior for living but of course you already knew that” your backed up completely into the sink and have nowhere to run as he continues to get closer until he finally towers over you face inches apart “I think you’re my little groupie.. I think you watched me get off and took pictures to touch yourself too.. I think you leave love letters at my door.. I think you’re jealous of my fake girlfriend and I think..” he whisper the next words right into your ear “you’re desperate for me” he hates to admit it but some animalistic part of him just wants to take you right there in the bathroom and make you scream his name to humiliate you just as you did to him. You’d proudfully admit that his accusations made your panties soaking wet, having to squeeze your thighs together for any friction.

Just then a loud knock at the door interrupts you both breaking away “whys the door locked?” you hear through the door “you’re right” you say before speeding off and disappearing into the crowd as soon as the lady at the door gets it open. Spencer rushes out ignoring the strange looks he gets but ultimately looses you. He lets out an exasperated sigh and with that hes on his way to work.

Coming back to an empty apartment was never fun but he couldn’t shake his head off with what happened just a few hours prior in that bathroom. He starts palming himself through his trousers and groans wishing it was you. He unbuttons his jeans and pull out his dick, stroking it as it fill the room with the wet sounds of his precum smearing all over his shaft “fuck” he sits at his desk and there he sees you. You’re on the balcony of the building across the street. The complex next to the one morgan was previously situated at the day prior. Camara leaning next to you, phone in one hand as your other hand starts to glide down your abdomen between your thighs successfully getting a whimper out of Spencer.. hes never been this exposed. He hears his phone ring and you mouth at him to answer it and he obeys. You let out breathy whines as you start to circle your clit matching the pace of the hand wrapped around his dick. His eyes are open staring straight at you, he dosent want to miss a single second of this. His own morality not even bothering him anymore, not when he feels this good and has this view. “Fuck” He stands up from his seat and walk closer to the window, he starts to glide his hand faster even teasing himself by running his finger through his slit “mmm” he knows you can hear him but he cant hold back his sounds god hes never felt this good under his own touch, he thinks it’s pathetic he has to imagine its your even though you’re only a few feet away. “faster” he demands. His ty is loosened but his shirt is still on and how you wish you could just see all of him, you insert 2 fingers into yourself struggling because theyre not long enough to give you as much pleasure as you need, you lean over the edge and hold on to the railing of the balcony giving spencer a better peek at your tits “you’re fucking c- crazy” he says with heavy pants inbetween every word “me? im not the one stroking my dick to my “stalker” god you hated that word but you heard him refer to you as that before, he lets out a deep growl “yeah well im not the stalker” the call is filled with whines and moans from both ends, you start nearing your climax “im gonna- hah-“ your words are cut off by your loud whimpers “aww cmon baby- you can write someone whos never even seen you heartfelt love letters but cant- ah finish- mm your own sentence” hes teasing but in reality hes in the same position as you “fuck- you” his open mouth turns into a smirk “bet youd like that” thats it, something in you snaps and your practically screaming and writhing in place as Spencer delivers his final pumps to his cock before he’s leaking cum onto his own chest with heavy whines as he tries to catch his breath with his eyes closed.

When he finally opens them to see you shock is evident in his face when you’re already gone and the line is left ringing. He buttons his pants and runs to his front door trying to catch you but instead his eyes land on another envelope. He opens it expecting it to be another love letter and pictures of him jacking it only to be met with photographs of YOU touching yourself, your mouth dropped open, hand on your pussy, only showing the bottom half of your face, the note attached reads “you have my phone number now.. id appreciate going on a date with you before you turn me in - your dearest Y/N” god this was going to be fun.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #dom spencer reid #sub!spencer reid #dark fanfiction #criminal minds

[doublekanble]

sibling

Lucifer-reader (gnc)

platonic

word count: 3.5k

the reason i dont write for women is because i would die doing so, anyway, im celebrating my first non-al fic with sleeping on time.

You have a brother. Not by blood. No. Never. You’re not Adam, nor are you or Lilith, with skin the tone of light ivory and body defined by the dust  of earth and dirt. You two are not bound by blood, nor are you bound by the particles that encapsulate the vast universe beyond the haven you both resides in. Not even to the vessels you were born into, or the similar structure of your souls, the basis for all angels. None of those means will ever be enough to define the bond you have.

(“Hey! Over here!” He laugh and called out your name, you laugh and follow his voice.)

Lucifer is a dreamer, an idealist and a mischievous soul. All in heaven knows of his name, and almost all of them have less than beautiful word about the tiny Archangel. Looked down and frowned upon, Lucifer’s jokes and games are less than entertainment to most. No matter how many duty he filled out by hands, they will never look at him as anything more than a simple trouble-maker (let alone the fact the duty itself is utterly useless in your eyes, but you digressed).

His voice too loud, too grating on one’s ears. His jokes too immature and too brazen to another. His handwritten letters crinkled at the corner, his smiles too bright and wide. His footstep too loud, his eating too messy, his stand too proud and his ideals too dangerous and downright blasphemous.

At some point, your brother’s face, molded, heated, sculpted and paint by Father’s hands himself, once so bright and perfect, one that supposed to never aged, aged.

(He pulls you by the wrist and guide you both from Heaven, down and down to the Garden itself. Lucifer is the fastest angel (Archangel) you know, but you also know he like flying by your side, so you pull yourself forward a bit and take your time despite your own circumstance.

“What are you trying to show me brother?” you smile, pretending to be exasperated by his antics. “We’ve already seen the four corners of this endless place. What ever is there to be excited about?”

“Oh-ho-ho. You’ll see when we get there~!” )

In everyone else’s eyes, your brother is nothing but a blight at worst, an annoyance at best. But to you, he’s your older brother, who took you by the hand and shows you magic tricks and sing silly songs to you when you first met; determined to distract you from your crooked left wing bleeding gold (that too, he fixed for you). Ever since then, the once-dutiful you spent your free days floating by his side, and before anyone can say anything about it, you two were inseparable.

If someone finds you by a tree somewhere, they would find you with a lyre in your lap, strumming away a tune you knew by heart while your brother sang a song with no rhythm. If they were to find him by a once-white wall, they’ll find that you’re right there with him holding paint and brushes in your hand as he drew crude and unrecognized shapes. He walks and you follow. Where you can find one, it’ll never be without the other.

Those songs, the makeshift pieces of art, your good papers that he kept stealing and his paint that always stained the corner of each and every single one of your robes. Those are the happiest days you have and will ever live in your eternal life.

-

“Is this the surprise...?” You look around the breathtaking space you’re standing in, trying to sound as casual as you can while Lucifer blanched and turns from one end to the other. Sunlight streaming through the leaves as distant chirps of birds reverberate. Heaven is beautiful, but Eden is perfect. If only you can spend more time here right now, but you need to be back by Sera’s side in thirty minutes, like it or not. “I mean, this is always a welcoming sight, but-“

“Wait please hold on! This was NOT supposed to play out like this, she should’ve been here- Imeanuhhhhh nothing um I was not supposed to say that-“ he groaned and run his free hand over his face. “Just- Lemme go look for her- you hold on right there I promised it won’t be long I’ll-”

Patting the hand that was still holding onto your wrist gently, you smile. “Luci, it’s no problem to me, really.” It is, but you’re not going to let him know, “Whatever it is you want to show me, it’ll be perfect. You just tripped a little, that’s-oof!”

He all but crushed you in his arms, six wings encasing you in a hug so tight, you feel like being wedged in between the crust of the earth and the sea. But you still try to pat his back before he pulls away and fly off with a quick “Just a sec!” and then you’re left alone, still processing whatever he was saying. Whoever this “she” can be, you trusted Lucifer, if only he could be a bit faster. You pull a watch from your right front pocket and flip its casing open.

He have twenty-five minutes, you sigh, whatever the new surprise maybe, it’s surely giving him a run for his life. Just then, a bird suddenly came into view, it’s beautiful long feathers dance in the air as it pranced over to you, graceful and poised.

“Hello there friend…What a delightful little thing like you doing here?” lowering onto your knees, you hastily shove your watch back into its place and open your arms to the bird. The thing settled in your embrace, right at home as you rock it back and forth and sing it’s praises. “Such a friendly thing…”

He have about eighteen minutes to show you whatever he wants to. You really hope you can go back soon. But as you’re recounting a story to the bird about a problem the Elders were fighting over, some silly dispute about making another human for one of the first, you hear a faraway voice calling your name. Quickly, he closed the distance.

“There you are!” looking beyond disheveled, your brother re-emerges behind a bush at the twelve-minute mark – smiles akin to the sun as he collected his breath, “Ok, so before we do this, you’ll need to promise me something first. You have to keep this a secret. For now. I think…” you raised an eyebrow as you swept his hair back into place, he sputtered “-It’s not anything bad! I swear! Butttt I’m pretty sure we’ll get intotroubleifanyoneelsefoundoutsoplease-“

“Brother, I promise.” You laugh, bouncing the bird a bit, you hope whoever it is, they’ll get along well. “Now, what was it you wanted to show me so badly you pulled me from lunch break and then came back to me looking like this?”

He hissed with a slightly embarrassed smile, but quickly recovered. As he straighten up, Lucifer waves his hand over the tree next to the bush he just came from, calling out to it in a tone you’ve never heard from him before, calling out to her. The bird suddenly stir in your arms as it fling itself to the sky and pulled your attention from them, your eyes following the bird in dismayed. And when you turn back, you feel the air leaving your lungs as you stare at the most beautiful person you’ll ever see.

“Ta-da! Surprise! Wha-za!” Lucifer struck several ridiculous poses as she laugh gently, covering her mouth. But her attention quickly turns back to you, who stand frozen like a new born fawn with mouth half open. When she smile at you, you immediately understand just why Lilith the human was so beloved by Father despite her rebellious attitude, and wondered if Adam also is as breath-taking as her.

“…”

“Um, Heaven to you? You there~?” He knows what’s going on in your head. You know he knows, so you hit his arm and almost growl at him for the first time.

“Hello there. You must be Lucifer’s sibling.” Her voice like the wind. Her eyes the color of light violet. You immediately recalled the beautiful Chrysanthemums you took from the garden some days back, petals just as lovely, if not less, than hers.

“…Hi…” you breathe, and then jolted back awake. “I mean- uh- greetings. Miss Lilith. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you face to face.”

Her expression change just a bit, and you kick yourself down for it. “Please don’t be so courteous. Lilith is fine!” She walks forward and held onto your hands; you feel faint. “Lucifer told me so much about you. I’m glad I finally get to put a face to the name.”

“I hoped I’m fitted to your expectations, miss-“ she glares at you, you’re convinced the beating of your own heart weakened your resolve. “Lilith. Lilith.”

At this, she gives you a pleasant smile. “That would take time for me to know, now wouldn’t it?”

Lilith was merciful enough to let go of your right hand as she calls to Lucifer, who was smiling with utter glee in his eyes. But you can’t properly register anything at the time, completely defenseless and left to the mercy of Lilith as your brother ignores your bewitched state. You wondered just why does people also look down on Lilith. Everything about her screams utter beauty and grace. That is, until you came to and realizing they were both grinning at each other.

Lilith expression, though still fair and utterly lovely, was foreign to you. Your brother’s, however, help you realizing there’s no way in Father’s name you can go back to Sera with the time you have left.

Only ever seeing her from afar, you now find yourself drawn to her in the same way your brother was. As beauty is to the beholder, you would be more than glad to say that Lilith is the pinnacle of beauty. No, not just that, she must be the definition.

“-I don’t know how long I can hold this-“

“You’ll be fine Luci~” he groaned as Lilith turns to you and whispered “How long did you say he can stay like that for?”

You know he can hear you both despite her effort, so you look at him in the eyes and pretend to ponders.

“Hm~ At least two hours is needed for me to made the paint-“ you can do it in seconds if you choose to, “and my hands are so unsteady…” you can draw a circle, not perfect, but you don’t need perfection in your work, until today that is, “So… my dearest, strongest, most wonderful and amazing brother can stay like that until we’re done.”

She pulls you into her arms, laughing and aggreging with you as Lucifer seethes and curse under his breath. It wouldn’t take as long as he dreaded, he gives up half way through and opted to show you two some trick he learned instead. But it certainly was enough for him to weaponized it for the next 6 days. Lilith distracted you two from your sibling rivalry all the while.

You would’ve love to gawk and hand-pick each and every trait she have to write songs and poems about, but were you to truly do that, you’ll have to pick all of dear Lilith apart. Father’s skills and love truly shines through her appearance in every way. And yet, so distinctly, she’s not the same as everything else Father made.

As you observed the way Lilith would dance with Lucifer, you realized just how similar their souls are, despite being made from different molds and materials. Lilith brough to Lucifer a certain charm, a place for him to hang about as he falls. Lucifer in turns, brought a wave of chaos to her, one that she handled with utter grace and would indulge in. Her towering figure holding onto him as she brings him from the river they fell into, her lyre playing the oddest of tunes that somehow compliments his terrible singing. The faces he painted on the rocks in the garden are followed right behind with her own piece of art, just as terrible as his and just as lovely. All a lovely and gentle and beloved kind of love, but one where you suddenly feels like the garden isn’t a place for you anymore, despite them always calling your name and laughing with you.

And in the midst of it, you soon realized you can’t find the trace of paint handmade by your brother on your robes anymore, and none of your good papers ever disappeared with a mischievous grin hiding behind it. But as always, you followed after him when he offers his hand. And then one day Sera gives you an off-handed praise about finally distancing yourself from Lucifer, and suddenly, it hit you that it’s been a month since he draped himself across your desk and pull you away to play some games he came up with that day. Time passes quickly for those who do not live, and it passed by even quicker for dreamers living in happy days.

Unbecoming of yourself, you would fallen ill for three days and two night, not the kind where you would lie in bed and barely move. It’s the kind where you move with a fervor, unable to think for anything except from tearing everything in your room open and breaking every other thing that can’t be torn. Immortal beings cannot handled the concept of non-eternal love. It hurts all the more that the two souls you want to direct this anger at is the two you will readily die for. You grappled with the possibility of feeling betrayed and abandoned by people who never leave in the first place by punching at the walls until your knuckles tore open to the bones. How do you mourn people who never die. You do not know. So for those three days and two nights, you learned how to.

But jealousy is an unsightly trait of an angel, and honestly is applauded. So afterward, you turn to Sera and asked her for guidance, seeking the inner peace and order she and the Elders have been preaching all this time before you can let yourself find out what happened to angels who let the unsightly takes them. So that you wouldn’t ever know what happened to angels who let the unsightly into their room, yours was cleaned of all the broken and torn.

But forever, your heart still turned towards your older brother and his new love. Every time you open your eyes after a restful sleep, your thoughts are filled with them. And despite Sera’s advices, you would still seek them out just to listen to their songs, and as they dance across the Garden, you learned and made peace with simply watching on. Soon, a small seed, like that of an apple tree was planted in your heart and it grows every time they smile, with or without you, and slowly you find in you a sense of tranquility. Because by Lilith side, your brother’s once tired visage soon grow a new life, one better than you can ever hope to give him. And by Lucifer side, she glows with something you can’t ever put a finger on, as if being born anew every moment. So one day, you held onto her hand while Lucifer flies off to catch a duck by the pond.

“Are you happy by Lucifer’s side?”

Her graceful and sharp expression broke with a smile, so bright and gentle, just like your brother.

“As happy as I can ever be.”

Your own face, reflecting in her light violet eyes, akin to beautiful blooming Chrysanthemums, is one filled to the brim with mirth. You would embrace her in your arms for the last time as you bid the two goodbye and leave. From then on, you forbid yourself from ever entering Eden, even as your brother would beg you at times. You only send Lilith gifts and letters you wrote by hand, afraid of encroaching onto their garden, it’s no longer a space that belongs to you.

Far until the day you woke up and wondering what you’ll have for dessert. It hits you that life have returns to its state of normalcy, one where you think about Lilith and Lucifer having fun and one where you hoped they're laughing as loud as they can; for Lucifer is your dearest older brother, and Lilith your beloved older sister, not bounded by blood, not tied by soul. You hope he can get Lilith and himself out of Heaven’s grasp one day. Such a rigid place can never be enough for them.

-

Their yelling was so, so loud. Half of you hope to be anywhere else at all, and the other half hope you can go back to being a speck of dust in the galaxy. But you’re standing in the court of the Elders as they fought over your life, unable to wish and pray yourself away from here (it’s unbecoming for an angel to wish) and unable to process a single word they’re saying as you poured over the details.

(“Surely it knows! You can’t see it by anyone else’s side except from him!” “You’re the closest to that vile snake! You must’ve plotted together with him?!”

“Throw it down too! We can’t risk another one!”)

Your eyes flitting across the documents and fucking transcripts that was made over the days of the event and what happened after. Although their every motion finally written in clear ink, you can’t help but focus on one thing.

They took from the apple tree and dare gave it to Eve, Adam’s new bride. More-or-less tricking her and causing the downfall of humanity, the papers all-but stated.

(“I begged of you, they surely do not. For all this time, they have been by my side! For the past week, they haven’t even saw him!”

“How are you so sure?!”

“Are you saying I’m blind, Elder?”

“How dare you talk back! You wretched-“

A hand reach out, silencing the court. A single Elder stand with their eyes watching your hunched form. You were a particularly hard-working angel, despite your association and your actions at time.)

It was unanimously agreed that Lucifer and Lilith will be cast down to Hell, a palace made of misery just for them. Their thought crimes might've turned to outright blasphemy, but there is mercy in the arms of Father. Eve’s fate however, remained unknown. They’ll have a court session about her tomorrow, to be entice or to let yourself be enticed, a rock and a hard place. There’s talk and whispers in the walls, of casting her to the same fate as your brother and his lover the moment her soul leave her newly-made body. Your grief is with Lucifer and Lilith, fully aware of the real punishment.

(“Then will you, Oh Honored Seraphim, swear with your eternal life that this one won’t fall like he did?”)

Being able to escaped Heaven and the judging eyes of others would’ve been a dream for them. Somewhere where white and black rules and golden rigid structures won’t tie down their dreams of freedom and love. What better ways to break them than to let them watch the consequences of their blasted dreams.

“…”

She held onto your hand, as you finally collapsed on the stand and weep openly for all to see. They turn and discussed amongst themselves as you feel your breath gets taken away all over again.

“Honored Seraphim?”

“I swear to our Father, and to my eternal life.”

Sera grips on you is strong and firm even as she leads you from the court and back to your room, all cozy and warm and so unlike your burning heart and freezing body. She sat on your bed and held onto your shivering form, wide-eye and as terrified as the day you were born.

“From now on, their eyes are on you.”

You catches the glimpse on her face, miserable and heavy, masked behind a tough front. You wondered whether she knew this would’ve happened. You wondered if she’s doubting herself for trusting you. Your life now tied to her hand.

“From now on, you have no brother. You must stay strong.”

From now on, you both have no sibling. As you cry yourself into the dark, you briefly remembers Lilith gentle hand holding onto yours when you doze off, Lucifer sing a lullaby you can’t recalled, his voice normal and lovely. Now so far away from them, you wondered if there’s any meaning at all to dreams.

-

You once had a brother and a sister, not by blood, if only you could be bound to them by blood. Unlike the blessed humans, your regrets and sorrow cannot end in a single night and nothing in the world can ever take your ghastly form away. Your soul is made by hand, plucked from the infinite of the world; body melts in mold, sculpted from stardust instead of dirt. If only you too, were made of dirt. Instead, you now watch over the misshapen sculpted clays and dirt that made it to the pearly gates and take care of them as best you could. Jealousy is unbecoming of an angel, but you no longer care about knowing what happened to the one that fell.

You once had a brother and a sister, once. And ever since you haven’t, you’ve been dutifully and restlessly waiting until they can come back home.

#hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #luficer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel #lilith morningstar #x reader #hazbin hotel oneshot #tumblr rlllly hates the banner on this one for some reason

[toujokaname]

HiMERU Idol Story 2

Author: Akira

Characters: HiMERU, Kohaku

"(Let's get properly involved with the world, "HiMERU".)"

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Season: Summer

Location: Seisoukan Common Room

HiMERU: ~...♪

Kohaku: Mm? O~i, HiMERU-han, what're ya doin' this late at night?

HiMERU: —Oh? HiMERU could say the same to you. Are you out on a walk at such a late hour... Oukawa?

Kohaku: Koh koh koh ♪ I'm jus' happy I'm able to walk 'round freely.

Also, when I was at home, I got used to stayin' up late, so sleep don't come to me easy at this time of night.

I keep thinkin' "I oughta go to bed early," but I can't.

That bein' said. If we both don't go to bed soon, it'll have an effect on tomorrow, 'cos human beings can only recover through sleep.

HiMERU: —Is that so. HiMERU's view differs from that, and Shiina, for example, would most certainly hold a different opinion.

Kohaku: Yeah. That moron's a special case in that he can't recover from anythin' that ain't food.

As we spend more and more time together, I've unavoidably learned that he's like a single-celled organism that'll put anythin' and everythin' in his mouth.

He's eatin' all the time. I lose my appetite jus' by lookin' at 'im.

HiMERU: —Fufu. Shiina would surely be unhappy about that, since he seems to love serving food to others.

Kohaku: For real. That guy's like, his whole life's centered 'round his stomach.

HiMERU: Fufu. To HiMERU, that is an enviable thing, to have something so irreplaceable—things like that.

Aah, what does the world look like to such a person?

—Anyhow. To answer your first question, as you can see... HiMERU is writing a reply to a fan letter he received.

Kohaku: Fan retaa[1]?

HiMERU: Yes. HiMERU takes pride in his long career history and is a popular idol in his own right.

Letters from fans arrive in boxes, and all of them are piled up here.

Kohaku: Oh? Really, all of these?

Haah... I can't help but sigh. I'm still unfamiliar with idol culture, so this's new to me, y'know?

It's real impressive that they're all handwritten, even in this age of the Internet, ain't it?

HiMERU: Yes. HiMERU is very grateful for it. Even then, these don't include those that were slanderous in nature. The agency censored and removed those.

Kohaku: Huhh~... And despite that, there's still these many left. HiMERU-han must be a real popular guy, huh?

HiMERU: Rather than it being a result of his popularity, HiMERU is one of the rare types of celebrities who reply to letters. His fans are likely to know this, and thus, they send him more and more.

Anyone would be happy to receive a reply to their letter, after all.

Kohaku: ...That's right. Communication's only possible when you speak or write and get a proper response.

To communicate with someone can be a pleasure hard to come by. Screamin' into the abyss will only hurt yer throat, and nothin' worthwhile's gonna come of it.

HiMERU: —Oh dear. Oukawa, you look a little hurt. Apologies, did HiMERU unknowingly tread on a sensitive topic for you?

Kohaku: Hm. It ain't good to be too sharp, HiMERU-han.

...No need to worry 'bout it, I'm fine. I was jus' thinkin' 'bout an old pen pal of mine.

Hm. Even though I thought I'd come to terms with it and forgotten 'bout it, the wounds in my heart'll remain unhealed and hurt forever.

Oh, well. Sorry I called out to ya while you were workin', HiMERU-han.

I'm goin' back to my room to rest. When it comes to yer letter writing... there ain't anything I can do to help ya, anyway.

HiMERU: Indeed. The senders of the letters, the fans, would most certainly want to receive a reply from their favorite idol written by the person in question.

HiMERU cannot ask someone to write on his behalf, so even if he gets tendonitis, he will have to write them all by himself.

Kohaku: Hmm, "the person in question", huh...?

HiMERU: —What is it?

Kohaku: Nothin'. If you've convinced yourself of that, then I've nothing to say. ...Jus' be careful not to break yer body or mind by overdoin' it, HiMERU-han.

HiMERU: —Yes. Thank you for your concern, Oukawa.

Goodnight, have a pleasant sleep ♪

Kohaku: Koh koh koh ♪ ...Though that surprise attack was meant to shake ya up, you didn't even tremble a lil while you were writin'. I gotta praise ya for that.

You've got a calm face and guts, I'm glad I can rely on ya as a unitmate.

Welp. For real now... G'night, HiMERU-han ♪

~...♪

HiMERU: (...Hm. It looks like he's gone. That made me break out in a bit of a cold sweat.)

(It's the same for you. You have a cute face, but I should never be too careless around you... Oukawa Kohaku.)

("Oukawa". I've heard rumors that they have a family history of single-handedly taking care of dirty work...)

(Sure enough, the more someone wants to hide something, the more likely it is for it to reach their ears.)

(But. Even if you heard about the secret that "I'm" carrying, you should've pretended to be unaware of it.)

(And yet, just now, you deliberately gave me a warning, as if to say, "I know"—why?)

(Maybe you were so sleepy that you slipped up, or maybe you didn't mean anything by it...)

(Was it a threat, or a sign of trust as a colleague? I don't know. There's not enough material to speculate, either.)

(Aah, it's really... interesting. Communication, that is.)

(That which is called life! Overflowing with pleasant discoveries and emotions, the most valuable treasure room in this world!)

HiMERU: (—So. "You". You can't keep averting your eyes and pretending you don't see it... Let's get properly involved with the world, "HiMERU".)

Kohaku repeats this in hiragana, indicating his unfamiliarity with the term.

In his inner monologue at the end, you can notice I didn't make HiMERU talk in third person. The reason why is that in most of his dialogue, he actually omits personal pronouns entirely. In those cases, translators default to making him speak in third person. However, given the context of what he's saying, I felt it appropriate to make him use first-person pronouns. In the Japanese script, he only uses "ore" once, where it's in quotation marks.

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#akira #idol story #himeru #kohaku

[grabmyboner]

27 please and thank you!

27. Do they have any ‘firsts’ in their new place?

Look i got extremely carried away with this im so sorry i dont even think it fits the ask game anymore??

Ps. There’s a surprise at the end

Ian has a thing about firsts. The first time they make a real dinner together, the first time they sleep in their own bed (that was theirs first), or the first time they watch the entire Star Wars original trilogy.

But something that really makes Ian breathless in the best way possible, is the first time Mickey writes him a note. A simple handwritten note on an old piece of paper.

He thinks back on the last eleven years together and can’t recall a single time Mickey ever wrote him anything.

The first note he finds simply says, ‘Gone to get bagels. M x’

He smiles because Mickey could have just texted him, or poked him awake to let him know – But instead, he writes a note and leaves it on Ian’s bedside table next to a fresh glass of water and his morning pills.

Ian keeps the note in the bottom drawer of his bedside table next to a photo of his mom and a ticket from his first white sox game (It wasn’t his ticket, he found it on the ground after he jumped the fence of the stadium with Lip).

It only happens a few times, on the rare occasions Ian is asleep while Mickey is awake.

His bedside drawer is now growing with notes, each their own little mundane message that makes his heart double in size.

‘Ran out of washing powder, getting some. Mick’

‘Breads fucking mouldy. M’

‘Ms Callaghan two floors up has a leaky sink, gone to check it out. Mickey x’

‘Out of smokes. M x’

One day Mickey is searching for a spare phone charger and opens the bottom drawer on Ian’s bedside table and sees the little collection of notes.

“You kept these things?” He’s holding them in his hand, fingering through them carefully.

“Yeah,” Ian shrugs self-consciously, “First time you ever hand-wrote me something, felt important.”

“Chh, soft bitch,” He’s got a fond smile as Ian grabs the notes and lays them on the mattress so he can grab at Mickey properly. He pulls his hips square against his own and leans down to press a delicate kiss to Mickey’s forehead.

“You love it.”

Mickey looks up at him with soft eyes and hums in agreement, “It isn’t though, y’know,”

“Isn’t what?”

“First time I hand-wrote you somethin’”

Ian gives him this confused puppy look, head tilted to the side slightly and eyebrows furrowed.

“Wrote you a letter ‘bout a week after I got to Mexico,” He looks nervous admitting it, eyes dropping down to the collar of Ian’s shirt. He reaches a hand up and fiddles with the fabric.

“What? I never got that.”

Mickey has a sad smile when he says “I never sent it.”

“Mick-”

“Think I still got it ‘round here somewhere.”

Ian frantically leans in, pressing a hard kiss to Mickey’s lips and bringing his hands up to hold his head firmly. He pulls away after a long minute and searches Mickey’s eyes.

“Can I read it?”

#click on the pic for better quality!!! #that letter took so long to make pls appreciate it 😫😫 #gallavich #gallavich fic #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich fanart #my fic #my edit #ask #ask game #mine #I’m so nervous to post this idk why :(((

[jarigui]

sincerely yours

synopsis: after a week of break up, you receive a handwritten letter from your ex boyfriend.

genre: heavy angst

pairing: oikawa tooru x reader

contains: oikawa being your ex, break up angst, mentions of naturalization

notes: i didn’t proof read this hehe maybe i’ll edit it tomorrow. the crossed out parts are intentional since it’s a handwritten letter.

how have yo it’s me you’ve always loved handwritten letters. i can still remember the day you told me that you like receiving letters, and i racked my head for an entire week trying to write you one. years have passed and now writing letters for you seemed as easy as breathing. words flow out of me naturally and i can bare myself to you without hesitation. if you’ll put this in your collection of my letters, it’ll be the only one with an unusual greeting. i usually start my letters by calling you ‘my love’ and ending it with ‘write me a reply soon.’ i’m sorry if i can’t call you that. it hurts too much and somehow, i would always remember all the other times i would call you that when we were together. i can’t bear the pai i’m also sorry i also won’t be ending it like my usual letters. this time, please don’t write me one back. it hurts writing this just as much as you reading it. i don’t think i can bear the pain of seeing your reply.

it’s summer now here. the heat is blazing and beach volleyball tournaments are coming up. i’ve also started filing the documents needed for my naturalization. the process is a bit slow and frustrating, but it’s bearable. i followed your advice by the way. coach is not that hard on me anymore since i already told him about my situation. i didn’t tell him the whole story but i did tell him the part where i recklessly booked a plane ticket back home to you just to win you back. he didn’t like that part but he said that he understands. he also asked me about my future plans. i told him since i’ll be stuck here for years when the naturalization process starts, i’ll just train harder to be better. it’s not like i can book another ticket back home to you, right?

your favorite, the ice cream shop near my apartment told me that they’ll be moving places soon. i‘ll feel homesick empty lonely sad when they move, but maybe it’s for the better. you’re all that i can remember whenever i go there. traces of us you you told me to not get stuck in the past and i’ll be following your advice again. i believe that you’ll be right again this time.

i’m itching to tell you all the selfish thoughts i have right now. i know you’ve always allowed me to fully bare myself to you but is that still applicable this time? im sorry for being selfish

i feel like i’m stalling here. you can burn this letter after reading it, if you want.

things still haven’t changed. i still want you back. i curse the world every night before i close my eyes. it’s an absurd thought but maybe i can push argentina closer to your place. maybe i can hold the world together so we can wake up next to each other and still achieve our dreams at the places we want. maybe i don’t have to be naturalized here. maybe i can practice and be here during the weekdays and come home to you every weekends. maybe i can fly home to you every night.

honestly, when i flew back to see you, i was scared of so many things. i was scared of you pushing me away. i was scared of the thought of you making me choose between you or my dream. i was so desperate that time. i feel like i might give up everything if you’d ask me to.

i hope you still keep the ring that i gave you. to you, it might seem like i proposed to you on a impulse but to me it wasn’t. i bought that ring on our second year anniversary. we were both still so young and i know we’re not yet ready for something as big as marriage. but i knew that you were the one. so i saved up and bought that ring. i promised myself i would give it to you when the time comes. i didn’t want to end our relationship with the regret of never giving you that ring. it’s not an engagement right anymore. please keep it as a proof of my love for you. the proof that i once had the opportunity of loving you, keeping you in my arms, and waking up next to you. i guess my only sorrow now is that opportunity slipping away from my grasp.

you can cut off any contact you have with me. you can burn this letter. you can do anything that will let you move on. you don’t have to feel guilty for moving on. after all, this isn’t a letter to win you back. but rather a letter of me showing you all of me. all of my imperfections, my selfish thoughts, and my regrets.

although, i do want to know what you’ve been up to or if you’re well, i’ll restrain myself. i’ll let you have your space. if you’re ready to talk again and be friends, i’ll be here waiting.

if we do meet in the future, please take care of yourself. i lo than sor

sincerely yours,

oikawa tooru

#haikyuu!! #hq boys #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu fic #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu angst #haikyuu oikawa #hq oikawa #oikawa torū #hq oikawa x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa angst #oikawa fic #oikawa imagine #oikawa scenarios #oikawa hcs #oikawa drabble #oikawa oneshot #sia!drabbles #jarigui

[handsomewrites]

a fist and not a plan ch.2

This is getting out of hand. Will probably have another fic coming after the four chapters of this.

part 1 | part 3 | part 4

read on ao3

Jayce stares at the note. Blinks. Looks up at Viktor, then down at the note again.

“Well?” Viktor is sitting across from him in the lab, one elbow resting on the handle of his cane. He’d gone back to his dorm to shower and change before returning here, like he always did, but this time with a mysterious note for his friend.

“And you’re sure this is from the woman who was with him?” Jayce still has a black eye from the prior week, but it’s progressed to just a vague bruise around the crest of his cheekbone.

“I’m sure, Jayce.” Really, if Viktor keeps rolling his eyes like that, they’ll get stuck one day. “What does it say?”

“You’re fucking with me. You wrote this yourself.”

“Jayce, what reason would I have to write a note to you claiming to be from some random man you pissed off a week ago?” Viktor snatches the note from his hand, but Jayce doesn’t put up any resistance.

“I dunno, Vik, but there’s no logical explanation for any of this!” Jayce stands up from his chair to start pacing back and forth as Viktor unfolds the note. It’s handwritten, in neat and succinct lettering.

Jayce Talis.

As much as I’d like to kick your ass right away,

let’s start with coffee.

The Last Drop, this Friday, 3pm.

Viktor’s eyebrows furrow. “How does he know your name?”

“How does he know my name!!” Jayce throws his hands up, letting them land on his head to card through his hair. He’s still pacing.

“I guess at least he’s straightforward, for a stalker.” Viktor shakes his head a bit, re-folding the paper and tossing it onto the table before grabbing his cane to stand. He walks over to the chalkboard where they’ve been working over equations and leans against the table, skimming the writing for a few moments before realizing Jayce hasn’t followed.

“...Jayce.” He’s still pacing, tugging on his hair a bit. “Jayce. It’s just a note.”

“But. He...” Jayce cuts himself off before he says knows my name again. “Asked me to coffee.”

“...Yes. And that’s completely insane.” Viktor waits a beat, then his frown deepens. “You’re not considering it, are you?”

Jayce’s shifty eyes and lack of verbal response is an answer on its own.

“Jayce.”

His face is turning red under Viktor’s glare. Viktor just sighs, shaking his head a bit before turning back to the chalkboard.

“Just leave me the key to your file cabinet so I can get to your notes after you get murdered.”

---

[Cait - Thurs 4:47]

JAYCE. HE ASKED YOU OUT???

[Jayce - Thurs 4:47]

I DON’T KNOW IF I WOULD SAY ‘ASKED ME OUT’ CAIT

[Jayce - Thurs 4:47]

THAT HAS... CONNOTATIONS

[Cait - Thurs 4:47]

ITS COFFEE, JAYCE

[Cait - Thurs 4:48]

IT COMES WITH CONNOTATIONS

[Jayce - Thurs 4:48]

Viktor thinks Im gonna get murdered

[Cait - Thurs 4:48]

YOURE GOING????????????

[Cait - Thurs 4:48]

viktor is right and he should say it

[Jayce - Thurs 4:48]

You two are bad influences on each other

[Jayce - Thurs 4:49]

I kicked his ass once I’ll do it again

[Cait - Thurs 4:49]

he gave you a black eye

[Jayce - Thurs 4:50]

Shut up

---

The Last Drop is a local coffee shop near the university, popular with college students and locals alike. It’s locally owned, and there are always rumors that it’s been sold to be replaced by a Starbucks, but it’s been around for longer than most of its patrons remember.

Jayce would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little nervous. He goes through the normal motions, though, exchanging a few pleasantries with the barista as he orders his usual. Large mocha latte with a double-shot of espresso, hold the whip. (Sometimes people roll their eyes at the long order, but he makes coffee runs for himself and Viktor during long days in the lab often enough that most of the baristas here know him. Plus, it’s hard to think his order is silly when Viktor gets the sugariest and silliest-named drink on the menu.)

He gets his drink and turns towards the seating area, scanning the tables. The man is already there, in the back corner. When they meet eyes, the man raises a hand in a little finger-wave, somehow making the gesture itself condescending. Jayce takes a deep breath, grits his teeth, and makes his way over.

“I admit, I wasn’t sure if you would show,” the man says, looking at Jayce over the rim of his coffee cup. He looks a lot more put together, this time -- hair slicked back, makeup covering the unnatural coloration of the scar under his eyepatch. He’s got a dramatic-looking coat hung over the back of his chair, and he’s wearing a dark red dress shirt under a charcoal button-up vest. The top buttons of the shirt are open, and Jayce can see the hint of a tattoo on his chest.

Not that he’s looking.

“I wasn’t either,” Jayce admits, pulling out the chair across from the man to sit. He almost feels underdressed, but jeans and a sweater is what a normal person wears to get coffee, and Viktor had teased him about wearing the muscle sweater that makes girls flirt with him so he figured it was probably a fine choice. “You’ve got a strange way of making friends.”

The man hums, sipping his coffee. “I can’t say it’s something I make a habit of.”

“...Right.” Jayce sets his cup on the table. “So, um. Why?”

He chuckles through his nose, good eye wandering as he speaks. “You’re an interesting man, Jayce Talis. Built like a blacksmith, blue-collar family, on a full ride to an Ivy League school after graduating early from high school. Face like a sunbeam and polite to a fault, but almost ejected from school for dubious experimentation with university resources! And easy to goad into a fight, to boot.”

“And, uh.” Jayce can feel his voice coming out a little higher than intended. “How, exactly, do you know my name, and all this about me?”

“Gym membership database,” the man says with a flip of his hand, like it’s obvious. “It’s almost alarmingly easy to hack. The rest is easily available on the internet. Though your ethics hearing went through the local rumor mill, so that bit I remembered once I got your name.”

Jayce blinks at him. This man is insane. He’s just calmly sipping his coffee, sea-green eye staring through him. Something about that vaguely reminds him that he also has coffee, so he takes a slow sip of his own.

“Well,” he starts eventually, “I didn’t hack the gym’s database, so...”

“Silco. The pleasure is all yours, I’m sure.”

“Just one name? Like Shakira?”

“That’s all you need, I think.” Silco rests his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand, somehow looking down at Jayce despite being on the same level. “Black eye looks good on you. Pity I couldn’t see it when it was darker.”

“You got a lucky shot,” Jayce grouses, leaning his own crossed arms on the table. “I wasn’t exactly expecting a fistifight with some random dude at the gym.”

“I’m an expert in defying expectations.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Jayce answers, uncrossing one arm to pick up his coffee again. “We’re not exactly on an even playing field, here, Silco.”

“Maybe you should spend less time picking up heavy things,” Silco points out with confidence and a finger pointed in Jayce’s direction, “and more time hacking databases.”

“...Sure. That’s it.”

“You’ve got to put some work in, Talis. Can’t have everything handed to you on a silver platter.”

Jayce feels the urge to roll his eyes. Is this how Viktor feels, talking to him? “And how do you propose I do that?”

“You’re the academic prodigy here, Jayce, I’m sure you can figure something out.” He sips his coffee haughtily, which is a verb and adverb combination Jayce didn’t think went together.

“You are an impressively punchable person, Silco, has anyone ever told you that?”

“On the regular, actually.” He seems proud of that.

The amount of time it takes Jayce to sip his coffee is just long enough for him to have the thought, but not quite long enough to think better of it. The guy has been trying to bait him for as long as they’ve known each other -- all five or so minutes of it. So why not give him what he wants?

“A fight, then. A fair fight, this time, where we both know what we’re getting into. If I win, you have to answer all my questions.”

Silco raises an eyebrow. “And when I win?”

“I dunno. What would you want?”

His fingers drum on the table, drawing Jayce’s eye. His hands are wide, chunky rings nestled on several of his long fingers, including on his pinky that looks like it might be a signet ring.

“I want to know more about your research,” he decides after a moment. “Not your current research. The last project.”

“That’s not...” Jayce hesitates. “The college said they didn’t want me talking about it.”

“I know.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “But that won’t be a problem, will it? If you’re so confident you’ll win. But if you’re not so sure you can take me...”

“Fine,” Jayce’s mouth says without explicit permission.

Silco smiles, like a cat who’s cornered a mouse. He reaches into his vest and pulls out a business card, tossing it onto his table as he stands.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Talis. Text me a time, and I’ll get a place.”

His hand lands roughly on Jayce’s shoulder as he passes. Jayce doesn’t watch him go, picking up the card instead -- it’s a simple black card, with just the name Silco in a tilted script and a phone number. What a weird guy.

By the time he looks up, Silco is gone, and Jayce is left alone to his thoughts. Something about that guy...He kept turning the conversation over in his head, trying to figure out the guy’s angle. Silco was like something stuck in his teeth -- he couldn’t just forget about the things he’d said, or the way he’d looked saying them. He wasn’t sure if he was being flirted with or mocked, talking to him. And now he’d agreed to meet up again, under the pretense of...

A fistfight.

What is he getting himself into, here?

#jailco #jayce x silco #bambi used the ship name #siljay #once and i also kind of like that #arcane

[domesticated-feral]

WIP Tag!

Thanks for the tag @nacreousgore

List all your wip titles, all meaning even the ones that make vague nonsensical ones

Tag as many people as there are wips (IM NOT DOING THIS)

AND you guys get to send an ask about whichever is intriguing to you and ill either ctrl c ctrl v a snippet from it or talk about it :D

Okay, so.. the last time i did this, back in october of last year, I had 81 wips. In the 18th of december i did a wip count and I have 166 total wips.

So I'm going to just name off to the wips that are on google docs only.

All the google doc wips under the cut because oh my god.

3-fucking-8 wips on google docs.

Tagging: @scribeoffate @shyawkwardwriter @astarshine @scilessweetheart @bisexualbuckaroo @blue-eyedbeta + anyone who wants to do this!

if you already have done this, apologies. and you dont have to do it if you dont want to :D

- “Hey! Yeah, it's me...guess what...I'm- I'm coming home,"

- “We’re here"

- Angsty feral stiles fic

- Being the son of a wealthy estate owner was not as laid-back as anyone would think

- Can you even hear me? A season 6 rewrite

- Claudia expected a Christmas letter to Santa

- Controller of the Void

- Draft oneshot heehee

- Five Nights at Freddy's x Teen Wolf

- Furballs of Chaos (and love, but mainly chaos)

- Happiness in your Arms

- I ordered for a new ot3 and I got peter x gwen x flash and im very much into it (not teen wolf, but the amazing spiderman)

- I'm bored as hell

- It's a jacksciles fic now

- Jackson Isaac Stiles hell yeah shitsticks lets goooooo

- Jackson Whittemore

- Look, when i find an angsty dialogue prompt and song (especially if it's by Panic! At The Disco and from their golden era) you know im defaulting to Stackson Second Person Smut + Angst mode in a heartbeat

- Matera, Italy

- Maybe Jackson pov demigod fic?

^ goes in hand with another wip below (highlighted with an *)

- Regency AU and Omegaverse go hand in hand right?

- Scackson ABO? Smut

- Sceo abandoned wip (not abandoned, just takes place in an abandoned warehouse setting)

- Sceo Thing - Ouija Board

- Sciles, angel!Scott, friends to lovers, angst

- Scott was home for winter break this semester

- SCRATCHED SCILES FIC FUCK

(this was abandoned for a while but not anymore but I have yet to change the title, but the title reeks of the pure frustration I felt when I abandoned it so I left it to remind me of that)

- SICARIUS BUT SLIGHTLY TO THE LEFT: AU OF AN AU: STACKSON ELECTRIC BOOGALOO 2

- Smutty Sterek pls send help

- STACKSON SUMMER GROWTH SHITSTICKS Y'ALL

- Sterek Thing

- Stiles and Scott, fresh college graduates decide to spend their summer on a road trip across the states (MURDEROUS ALIEN FARMER)

- That I Lie With

- The Makings of A Pack

- Three demigod bitches saving the world once again ***

- U BETTER FINISH THIS FUCKING SHIT OR...ICANTTHINKOFANYTHINGGOOD - Lougoshi post s2

- Wedding Sterek on hold

- Why'd you only call me when you're high?

- Yeah, I have a specific trope I wish to write.

ALSO Feel free to pick a number from 1-83 to pick a wip from my notes app <3 (I'm purposefully leaving the handwritten wips for my sanity)

#tag game #ask game

[swiss-cheeze]

Spencer Reid & Aaron Hotchner || ‘I love you’ ‘then perish’

REQUESTED: YES/NO

Gender: uh, they/them but there are mentions of the reader having their own kids; obviously there are single fathers so the reader 100% can be male or female or simply NB if that's what you prefer.

Warnings: child abductions/killings, normal CM crime talk, talk of trauma/abuse/drugs/drug abuse/the stuff Spencer has gone through, dismissal of trauma.

-------

Aaron Hotchner

10 children had been abducted, in less than 48 hours. We all know the statistics, which is why you didn't exactly understand why the hell you were still allowing children to go to school and out to the park. You brought it up to Hotch.

“Why is it exactly that we’re still allowing children to go out?” you questioned with crossed arms, the team looked at you skeptically but stayed silent.

“Because it’ll draw out our abductor that we can apprehend,” Hotch said, staring at the victim board. Every single photo was of a child or a family with children, this abductor didn't leave any trace evidence except for a handwritten note from the child saying how much they hated their home life, it had gone through forensic for prints and to make sure the writing was in fact done by a child; it was, each and every one of those letters was written by the kids.

“Why don't we lay low, say the FBI aren't doing their best, it'll drag the unsub out, or keep the kids home! He’ll get bored an-”

“And skip town for more children and probably leave the others behind to die (L/n)” Hotch cut in with a stern look, “I understand you have children of your own but-”

“Hotch this has nothing to do with that!” you exclaimed, the team is now filtering out of the door, “it has to do with the fact we’re trying to do our jobs the best and this isn't the best! The mayor and council are on our asses about everything and we’re still allowing more children to be taken!” you threw your arms around in an effort for Hotch to see what you’re saying, but he refused.

“(L/n) this conversation is now over,” the unit chief said harshly, “we are doing our best and our best is-”

“Agent Hotchner?” a voice called, an officer had walked into the room without realising, “more children have been kidnapped,” the officer handed you the evidence bag, or bags you should say, “four notes, four kids, but there’s um,” the officer took a breath and cleared his throat, “a body has just been discovered and the chief thinks its Ashley Leif,” and with that the officer left. You sighed as you looked down at the letters, feeling the weights in your hands, the tears, the markings, the- hold on. It's signed. You cocked an eyebrow as you placed the bag on the table.

“What is it (L/n)?” Hotch called, you didn't answer and instead took the evidence bags with you to the front of the building where the rest of your team stood waiting. Hotch could see you handing the letters to Reid, obviously to read through faster and determine if it was in fact written by a child, as your mouth moved at a million miles an hour, a lot of the team nodding along with you and talking. It felt cold without you in the room with Hotch. Maybe he should take your advice.

-------

Five kids dead, 8 still missing. Four days. You walked out of one of the offices as the wails of a child-less couple followed before you closed the door, the officers seemed to give you sympathetic looks as you stormed into the conference room yourself and the team were in.

“We have nothing,” you exclaimed as you slammed the door, causing J.J. and Emily to jump at your sudden outburst, “we have notes, we have a signed piece of paper that isn't a child name in the database for this town-” you flopped into one of the seats with your head in your hand as Emily came up and rubbed your shoulders.

“We’ll find him (Y/n)” the woman said softly, you didn't say anything as she left and the room went quiet again.

“How is he even getting these kids huh?” you asked, “they just suddenly up and leave in the middle of the...night…” it took you a second before you glanced at the crime scene photos of the child's bedroom; undisturbed. The team caught on as you quickly moved to the board and examined every photo, taking them all down and laying them out on the table in front of you as the team curled behind you.

“What is it (L/n)?” Rossi asked.

“It’s all undisturbed,” you muttered softly, you could feel the breath of your teammates against the back of your neck, “what...what if these kids aren't being taken?” you questioned, “what if they go out at the time, say a family dinner with a friend, they go home and that friend asks to stay the night, they take the kid and then-”

“The crime scene is undisturbed because the kids trust who it is; ‘come help me outside for a moment’ and they go” J.J. finished for you, you grinned as you phoned Garcia.

“Ready and waiting!” Garcia's voice came through the speakers, her fingers poised.

“Are there any friends from every family? People that overlap that are maybe mentioned in social media of most if not all the families?” you asked.

“Family friend, me likey” Garcia said happily as she started typing, “uhh, we have one; Emelia June, friends of all the families and- oh no” Garcia softened her voice.

“What? Garcia what is it?” you asked quickly.

“She's a director for a class the kids all went to for arts and crafts” Garcia said quickly, “her class roll is sent to your phones and tablets now!”

“Address Garcia?” you asked quickly as the team started putting on their vests, you included.

“Work and Address on your phones now, go get her my babies!”

“Rossi, Spencer, Emily go to the work address, the rest of us will go to her home and go from there, Emelia is dangerous and is most likely holding those kids in a separate location,” you said as Emily and Hotch started rounding up some officers and the rest of you ran to the cars.

------

Emelia was caught but had to be interrogated in order to find the kids, luckily they were all unharmed and had food and water, she was sentenced 25 to life.

“(Y/n), can i see you in my office please?” Hotch called as you started packing up your files to finish at home. You gave a slight side eye to your friends before wrapping your bag around yourself and walking to the office in question.

“Did i do something wrong?” you asked monotone as Hotch waited behind his desk.

“You took ahold of the investigation when apprehending Emelia,” Hotch said, “that isnt your job-”

“Neither was yours to let those fucking kids die” you said quickly as your arms crossed over your chest. Hotch sighed.

“I understand this is hard for the both of us with our relationship both work and romance but you need to trust me (Y/n)” Hotch sighed, this only made you angrier, “i know you find it hard to trust others and to be trusted but for this to work you have to understand i know what i'm doing and what i'm doing, including my job, is right” by now you where fuming, “i know this case was hard especially with you having kids of your own-”

“Fuck you,” you cut Hotch off, him looking at you surprised, “i have kids, you have a kid too Hotch. You had a wife and when you came to me seeking some sort of love and affection i was happy to give it to you when you needed it, i loved those dates, i loved everything but really? I'm getting too personal with that case because I care about young lives?” you asked with a scoff, “im sorry but if thats a problem for you then we have a pretty big fucking problem here” you motioned between yourself and Hotch on ‘here’.

“(Y/n)-”

“No, dont ‘(Y/n)’ me,” you said with a laugh, “you do this all the time! You dont allow me to do my own job-”

“Let me explain-” Hotch started once again, but you stopped him by walking out of the office.

“My resignation letters went in three weeks ago for Crimes Against Children, i go next week, i'll say goodbye to the team tomorrow” you said walking down the stairs and past your teammates who heard everything.

“You're leaving?” Derek asked, you could hear him but you didn't acknowledge him and kept walking, Hotch walked slightly faster and grabbed your arm, pulling you back to him.

“I love you (Y/n)” his voice was low and wavering, it was full of emotions but you couldn't care less.

“Then perish” you said finally, and with that.

It was all over.

You yanked your arm from Hotch, turned, and walked off without looking back.

Spencer Reid

Spencer was sick of it, he really was. He loved you, of course he did, but there was always something about you that just didn't sit right with him; you weren't too clingy, you weren't too protective, you were perfect. But you didn't believe he had all the trauma he constantly said he had. You jump scared him and of course his fist almost comes in contact with your nose, you scream his name and he comes in with his gun held just to see a photo of a dog, you always dismiss his trauma at the worst of times.

Anniversary of his abduction and drugging? ‘Lol no that doesn't happen to people like you, even back then’.

Anniversary of Maeve's death? ‘So you love a dead girl more than you do me? Oh thats rich Spence, thanks’ and youd walk out of the apartment and wait for SPENCER, to send a fucking apology.

Whenever he talks about his mum or her mental state? ‘Spencer you won't inherit whatever it is that she has, skitzy whatever’ you say with a laugh.

The team could see how much Spencer hated it, he was always on edge of everything. What he hated the most was when you decided to surprise him at work, everyone could then see how uncomfortable he was with you next to him, not how a couple was supposed to work.

So, he messaged you, asked for a chat over coffee. And here you are at the first coffee shop you both met, you giggling at a little baby blowing spit bubbles.

“(Y/n), can we focus on why i brought us here?” Spencer asked softly, he was trying, and hoping to some god that you would try as well.

“Yeah in a sec Spence,” you cooed at the little baby again.

“(Y/n) please,” Spencer was now desperate.

“Okay okay, Jesus Christ I can't do anything without you breathing down my neck can i?” you asked annoyed as you sat in your chair properly rather than directing your full body to the baby.

“Me? Breathing down your neck?” Spencer asked suddenly.

“Duh, you always do, i can't go anywhere or do anything without you there to ask every question in the book-”

“No (Y/n) that person is you,” Spencer cut you off angrily.

“Don't cut me off, Spencie” you reminded the boy, that was the last straw. Spencer slammed his hand on the table in rage causing a few people around to jump and stare, not good.

“No, you listen to me (Y/n)” Spencer started, “don't you dare call me that. Don't ever call me Spencie, you know why?”

“Because some girl from prison called you that” you mocked as you took a sip of your drink.

“Exactly, wanna know why i don't like people calling me that?” you shrugged, “it's called PTSD (Y/n), or PTSS. It’s real. That abduction I went through? That fucking happened, i was taken for two days and was drugged and tortured,” you sighed.

“Spence you know how i feel about that-”

“Yeah? And have you ever thought about what i feel? Huh? Ever think why I get so jumpy around you? Because i'm a federal fucking agent, i see worse shit than you could ever dream. And forgive me, but I try my best to keep you away from that stuff because I don't want to scare you with it but at this point I don't care anymore. Maeve? She's real, she was real. She was the most amazing girl in the world and you know what? I never saw her a single fucking time until the day she died. A murder suicide. I wept for weeks and weeks, wanna know who was there for me?” Spencer held up his hand and started counting off on his fingers, “my teammates, my supervisor, my mother, the people in my favourite coffee shop and bookstore. THEY WERE CONCERNED FOR ME WHEN I STOPPED COMING IN FOR TWO WEEKS” Spencers voice raised slightly, not enough to shout but enough to get through to you, “i have PTSD, i have trauma; and it's not right for you to dismiss it like its nothing. And that includes my mother” and with that Spencer was done. He grabbed his wallet from his pocket, shoved a $5 bill on the table and started walking off, you took a moment to catch up before walking after him.

“Spence, what- what?” your brain couldn't keep up as Spencer walked out of the shop with you in tow.

“We’re over. Go home” Spencer said without looking at you.

“But, I love you!” you exclaimed, disheartened, hoping that last bit would help you, but Spencer kept walking.

“Then perish” was all you heard as he continued walking away, confidence radiating over him as he left you to your thoughts.

And honestly? Thinking back on everything.

He was fucking right.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #derek morgan #david rossi #emily prentiss #jj #penelope garcia #Aaron hotchner #Spencer reid x reader #Aaron hotchner x reader #Reid x reader #Hotch x reader #head canon

[glycerineclown]

here’s a teaser of the “anvil’s a bdsm club and frank is the bouncer” au! this is still kind of rough (i literally started writing night before last) but please enjoy while i have more fun doing character research than i have in ages!

also, current total word count: 2182!!! on a fuckin’ roll! 

paging @selinaaas @fortysevenswrites @fiddledeedee85 @heidiamalia @letothegodemperor @scalesandredroses

--

The night air is bracing as Karen steps out of the cab. There’s an awning over the door to the brick building, and Karen ducks under it to get out of the rain as Dinah pays their driver.

There’s no knob. A neon sign’s lit up next to the door, outlining five capital letters—ANVIL—and an arrow pointing down toward a doorbell. The single window is covered.

She has goosebumps, and a nervous roiling in her gut.

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

Shutting the cab’s door behind them, Dinah joins her, straightening her coat and oversized handbag. She goes to press the button, but Karen tenses up.

“Wait, hang on, I—”

Dinah’s finger stops, hovering over the button. “What is it.”

“You’re sure I can just watch? That won’t be weird?”

The woman sighs, dropping her hand and squaring her shoulders toward Karen. “Yes, I promise. You told me yourself, you want—”

The door swings open before she can finish, though, and a figure steps out from the shadows. “The buzzer not work?”

“Buzzer’s fine, just cold feet,” Dinah says. “Got a first timer here, Frank.”

The man grunts. “Can I see some ID, ma’am?”

Karen tucks some of her hair behind one ear, and reaches into her bag to produce her driver’s license. “Here.” He shines a flashlight over her picture, and looks up at her face before handing it back.

“Welcome to Anvil. Come on in, we’ll get you set up.”

The heavy door slams behind them with a clang, and they step through velvet curtains, and into a small lobby. There’s a black tufted couch against one wall, and low lighting from sconces, a sign for the bathrooms. Dinah catches her fingers in Karen’s elbow, guiding her toward the small counter situated opposite, which the bouncer—Dinah called him Frank—has stepped behind.

“First night’s free, when you’re referred by one of our members,” he says, nodding to Dinah. “You decide to come back, there’s a subscription plan that includes our weekly events, and a workshop each month—Curtis teaches beginning and intermediate bondage on first Thursdays, can’t miss that.”

Karen can see the man better, now. His hair is shorn on the sides, five o’clock shadow, black sweatshirt with sleeves tugged to the elbows. Pink marks up his muscled forearms that could only be from rope.

“Got some forms for you to sign off on,” he says, ducking down to pull out a few pieces of paper. He tucks them onto a clipboard, and hands her a pen from a cup. “Cell phones are not allowed past the lobby. We have a coatroom that stays locked, if you want to leave a bag or anything else.”

Karen swallows, and looks down at the sheet on top as Frank continues his gravelly introduction—and on a dime, his tone switches from rehearsed to pointed.

“We take privacy and security very seriously,” he says, and Karen’s eyes dart up. “Please be aware that everyone you will meet has a day job, and they won’t want to talk about it, or give out too much personal info. Don’t touch anybody without asking.”

“Of course,” she says, with a quick nod, and turns to Dinah. “I, uh—I should sit down and read this.”

“All right,” Dinah says, stepping away from the counter and pointing a thumb toward the restrooms. “I’m going to change, I’ll meet you back here.”

Karen takes a seat on the edge of the couch, and reads through the fine print. Frank had covered the gist of it verbally, but there’s additional rules about nudity (accepted), safewords (required), alcohol consumption (closely monitored), as well as the meaning of different wristbands. On the third page is an event calendar, and a list of available classes. Someone named Elektra teaches kinbaku and impact play by appointment, and Micro offers group classes in communication and consent on the second Saturday of each month.

Frank teaches flogging and suspension safety to individuals and couples, also by appointment.

Karen signs her name at the bottom, and gets up, approaching the counter again. There are items for sale beneath the countertop, displayed behind glass, collars and restraints in black leather, silver buckles and chains gleaming under the inset lights. A handwritten sign reads, Genuine leather and vegan goods, crafted in-house! Support your local kinksters!

“You just a spectator tonight?”

It’s Frank. He’s talking to her, and holding his hand out for the clipboard.

Karen draws a blank for a moment, and scrambles to give him the forms. “How—I mean, yes, but—”

“You’re nervous, is all,” he says, glancing over her initials and final signature before opening a drawer behind the counter. He pulls out a wristband—it’s got yellow happy faces—and Karen extends her right hand. With practiced efficiency, hardly touching her skin, Frank secures it around her wrist. “This is designed to be a safe space. But if anybody don’t take no for an answer, or crosses any boundaries you’re not comfortable with, come talk to me. I’ll throw ‘em out on their ass.”

Karen chuckles. “Okay.”

A door behind them creaks, and Dinah steps out holding her coat and bag. She smiles at Karen and does a little twirl, showing off the black slip she’s changed into, the looser fall of her curls. Karen immediately feels out-of-place in the rather conservative cap-sleeve dress she’d worn to work—Dinah looks like she just walked out of 1994, in the best way.

She saunters up to the counter, and Frank reaches across for her things.

“Bill’s in a mood tonight,” he says. “Don’t let ‘im give you a hard time.”

Dinah scoffs at him. “Came here for a hard time, Frank.” Karen relinquishes her bag as well, and Dinah reaches for Karen’s hand. “Come on, sweet girl.”

A bit surprised at the gesture, but pleased all the same, Karen takes it, squeezing hard as they near the door. As if to distract herself from everything that could be behind it, Karen leans into Dinah’s ear and mutters, “He seems nice.”

Dinah’s face twists into a grin. “They call him The Punisher.”

#while the iron's hot #kastle #op

[pettyprocrastination]

Ok I have a major thing for handwriting idk so what do you think Ezra's handwriting looks like? (And on that topic, try not to think about love letters from Ezra when you're apart... Or do, I'd love to hear your thoughts bc I'm kinda dying here) I also feel like he's the kind of person to have just... a box of things you've written for him... Like literally anything. Shopping lists, letters, etc. and when he's away he takes them out and reads them :))

okay im feeling lonely and a little sad tonight so I immediately ran with this and uhhhhh this happened. (last bit is between him and reader from the thing “Stupid Man” that i posted earlier today. ) this ended up being a bit longer than expected sorry lmao

I’ve never written Ezra before please be gentle with me y’all

For this we're gonna say that Ezra is right-handed. 

I think Ezra had beautiful handwriting. Smooth, sloping neat lines ever since he was able to write. While other kids had to work on their penmanship, his was a natural gift. His handwriting was one that teachers would compliment in grade school, so distracted by the smooth strokes of his pencil that they hadn’t noticed the words used on his assignments weren’t even his, but that of the student sitting right next to him. The girls in his class would giggle and swoon at the albeit juvenile words of affections he’d write to them on secret notes passed back and forth between them, a habit he kept well into his adulthood. While he wasn’t proud of it, the harvester would leave notes of bittersweet goodbyes to lovers the morning after, remarking on how he would never forget the time spent working together on harvesting deposits as well as the intimate “and dare I say magical” nights they spent with one another. The women he laid with would be so enamored with his words and the rose tinted images his words painted, that by the time they would realize he’d taken off with their share of the harvest as well as his own, he’d be far enough into the stars all they could do was curse his name to the sky in anger. 

And then, one harvest in the Green, he had met a man named Damon and a brave little girl named Cee. 

These meetings, whether it was predestined or not, lead to him losing his right arm, and with it his beautiful handwriting. 

Learning to write again was frustrating, as a child it had come to him with ease, a natural gift. But as a grown man? Kevva alive it was enough to make him contemplate putting his fist through a wall. Until-

“Ez,” You poked your head into the den, eyes squinting and a blanket wrapped tight around your shoulders. “It’s three am, come to bed baby.”

You. 

You made it worth it. With every shy smile you wore each time he gave you a written proclamation of his love and dedication to you, no matter how messy his chicken scratch writing was you’d pepper his face with his kisses in gratitude. 

“My poet.” You’d coo in his ear. He’d feel that every moment of frustration was worth it, if he could see you like this every time. 

After losing his arm, Ezra became more appreciative of little written things. The notes you’d leave on the kitchen counter when you go to work, the way you doodle smiley faces and cartoon fruit on grocery lists, even the little slips of encouragement you sneak into his pocket when you thought he wouldn't notice. 

He did notice. He noticed every time actually. But he didn’t say anything out of fear that you would stop. 

Ezra had a little box of mementos about you, a ticket stub from the first movie you saw, an aurelac gem from your first dig together (one he swore to himself to never sell) and all the little notes, lists, and reminders you’d ever written. When one of you has to leave for a long period of time, whether it be work, or family or whatever reason. Each time he’ll open that box when he feels deepest in his lonesome, and his heart will lift just the tiniest bit. 

(next bit is just a little except with Ezra x Alien!Reader following this prompt)

Ezra must not have heard your key slide into the lock, or the door open at all. The washing machine was loud enough to drown it out, the damn thing was on its last life as it shook and trembled enough for you to send it a distasteful glare as if it were human. 

The wood creaked under your steps and yet, nothing. No thumping of excited feet to be met with a bruising kiss to your lips, mumbled “I missed you” against one another as you inevitably celebrated your return in bed with each other. 

You continued your trek to his bedroom as softly as you could. 

Maybe he was asleep?

He sat on the corner of his bed, his back to you and a box in his lap.

You found yourself staring at him with a smile, leaning against the door frame as you watched his sift through a box full of little notes and lists you’d written over your time together with a bittersweet smile. 

“Is this what you do whenever I leave?”

Ezra jumped, flinging the box from his lap and spilling all it’s contents onto the floor. A variety of emotions crossed over his face before one took over them all at the sight of you. 

Pure joy. 

He crossed to you in three quick strides. His hand found itself at the nape of your neck, pulling you to him for a heated kiss that you were all too grateful for due to your time apart. 

“Oh my darling warrior has returned.” He spoke between the feather-light kisses he laid all over your face, turning you into a fit of flustered giggles at the feeling of his scruff against your skin.

 “Were those diplomats as horrid and soulless as you claimed them to be?”

You pulled away and groaned. “Even worse. But that doesn’t matter now.”

“That it does not.” He agreed, his thumb rubbed comforting circles against your skin. “Not a day went by when I didn’t think of that shining smile or alluring voice, having you part from me is like robbing an addict of their temptation.”

You pressed your hand against his mouth. If he spoke any further you definitely wouldn’t be able to focus on anything other than taking off his clothes. “Enough of that smooth talker.” Your eyes went to the pile of notes across the floor. You spotted one, a tiny birthday card with a coffee stain on the corner, that was from the first time you celebrated his birthday together. It had been three months into your relationship. You stared up at him.

“You really kept them all?”

The look in his eyes, so soft and tender part of you was worried he’d break in your hands. But you knew better than that. 

“I’d be a fool if I didn’t, brave one.” He rested his forehead against yours, exhaling a shaky breath as he did. “I am afraid I’m not as strong as I first surmised I would be at your frequent departures-”

Guilt washed over you in a hot wave. “Ezra-”

“-but I am extremely grateful that you return to me each time.” He interrupted, a soft kiss pressed against your pulse-point to punctuate, your eyes fluttered shut and he smiled. 

“It is a blessing with no disguise that such a woman as yourself would go see the world and decide to return to the humble abode of a lowly, former harvester such as myself after each one. I do not need a reminder of that gift, but still, it helps the distance feel just a click smaller.”

You sniffed and bumped your forehead against his with a tear smile. “Stupid man.” You weakly scolded, your voice wavering and not holding its usual command of the room. 

Ezra smiled, oh how he loved to hear you call him that. Ever since you first found him years ago on your home planet, and witnessed him nearly get killed because of his lack of knowledge on the plant life there. You’d guided him throughout his dig, all while criticizing his stupidity, lack of preparation and “positively abhorrent attitude, you stupid man! Coming to a planet you know nothing of? Surely you want to die!”

Over time he learned that “stupid man” was your version of “I love you.”

“You know you’ll never be without me, Ezra.” You dipped your head down and pressed a kiss to his chest. “No matter how far I am, you will always have me with you. Please don’t ever forget that.”

His hand slid up to rest on your cheek, you didn’t miss the way his fingers trembled oh so slightly against your skin. 

“Oh gentle warrior.” He whispered with a warm smile. “I do not deserve you.”

You thought-no, you knew he deserved you and much more. But he hadn’t realized that yet. You believed that Ezra deserved the world. You couldn’t give him that, so you settled for your love, devotion and handwritten notes slipped into his back pocket when you thought he wouldn’t notice. 

He noticed every time.

#Ezra #ezra prospect #ezra x reader #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #prospect #anyways its the middle of the night and im in my feelings thank you for this ask sweet one <3 #i hope you liked it

[bsd-fyodor94]

Hi i just found your blog and im falling in love with your writing 😭👏🏻 can i request a school au scenario of dazai where he confess to s/o who is going to transfer to another school? And also thank you for creating such amazing works,i really love all of your story 💗

Slowness, Love, and Cheer

High School! Dazai

It was only the break of dawn when you received the letter from a shy lower class man, Atsushi. He left as quickly as he appeared, leaving you in confused thoughts and a letter in your hands.

An envelope sealed shut tightly with a little red heart sticker. Your name was written on the back in forcibly neat handwriting. The letter inside was handwritten, the penmanship not matching your name on the outside in neatness at all.

The contents, however, were sweet. The writer confessed their love for you through a series of short and sweet compliments. From your hair, to your eyes, all the way to the way you express yourself.

Signed at the bottom was an equally short and sweet name: ‘Dazai’. In the bottom right corner of the paper, in very small handwriting, was a simple sentence that will aid you in choosing your path. “Meet me in the chemistry room after school if you accept.”

As quickly as school began, it ended. The bell rang and students quickly left. You pushed against the crowd and towards the stairs that would lead you to the second floor–the floor with the chemistry room that Dazai should be waiting for you in.

Up the stairs and down the hallway, the only sound that echoed off the walls was the soft tap of your shoes and the occasional click from a clock’s minute hand.

The door was slightly ajar when you arrived. You walked in the classroom, lab tables lined up in the center and the teachers desk clean. Projects littered the tables from hours ago, left to sit for data to form.

Dazai sat on one of the two empty, clear lab tables. His hands wrapped around a small bouquet of flowers. He hopped down from his seat when he looked up to see you.

“I see you got my letter?” He asked, a smile played on his face. He held out the flowers for you to take.

You held them gently, never losing eye contact with the boy who confessed to you through a love letter. “I did. I accept, but there might be some complications.” You answered, seeing his smile turn to a frown. “You see, I’m moving pretty far–to Kyoto–in a month. I don’t know how well a long-distance relationship would work if you wanted one.”

“I don’t see what’s wrong with that. You’d just have me calling you every day to hear your pretty voice.” He laughed a little at his words.

You flushed red at the comment, his giggles getting louder when he saw your reaction. “Ok then. I suppose we’re a ‘thing’ now?” You both laughed at the situation that seemed to get awkward, but both enjoyed the moment.

A month had passed and you’d enjoyed your relationship as much as Dazai had. You two have gone on many dates, ate lunch together at school everyday, talked a lot more during classes, and even shared your first kiss together.

But at long last, the time to move has arrived. You sat on the sidewalk, a truck filled with multiple things from your home. Your father carried out another box to load into the back of the truck. “Did you get all your things packed, (First name)?” He asked.

You father knew your gloom, he could tell from the way you stared solemnly at the ground, holding your head in your hands. You didn’t want to leave. It could be a long time before you got to see Dazai in person again and we’re also still hesitant about the long distance relationship idea.

“Yeah.” You sighed. “Everything’s in my room, I’ll grab it soon.”

Your father sat down on the ground next to you, groaning about a bad spine as he did so. He rubbed comforting circles on your back. “Listen,” He wrung an arm around your shoulder, pulling him into you for a small embrace. “I know you don’t want to leave now that you got yourself someone, but you can visit Yokohama anytime you want once you graduate.”

You nodded, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. “I know, but…”

“I don’t suggest crying now.” You father wiped a stray tear from your cheek, smiling lightly. “I think your date’s here.” He pointed behind you.

Turning around, you almost immediately jumped up at the sight of Dazai. You wrapped your arms around him and he did the same to you. You both laughed, like you did most times you were together.

“I’ll be taking her out for lunch today, Mr. (Last name).” Dazai waves at your father while beginning to pull you to walk with him by the waist.

You father, before stepping back into the house to grab another box, called after Dazai. “Have them back by five, got it, boy!”

“Yes, sir!” Dazai yelled back.

The red chairs were comfortable, two straws peeking out of the large milkshake that sat in the center of the table. Dazai smiled at you while taking a sip from the milkshake, getting a smile in return.

Your hand laced with his and rest on the table. “So, you’re leaving tonight?” He asked. You nodded sadly. “I didn’t expect it to happen so soon. I could’ve swore it was only yesterday you accepted my confession.” He laughed lightly.

“Yeah… I don’t want to go.” You mumbled.

“It’ll all work out, alright? Remember what I said, I’m going to call you everyday.” He reaches across the table to brush away the hair that fell in your face. “Don’t worry. We only have a little longer until we’re done with (schooling) and we can see each other everyday.”

You couldn’t keep away the smile that curved onto your face. “Dazai, are you insinuating we move in together after school is over?” You playfully teased.

He put a hand dramatically on his hip, pouting a little. “What, would you be offended if I said yes?”

You both laughed, enjoying the moment like every other time you spent together. Soon enough, five o’clock rolled around and as Dazai had said, he had you back at home with one last kiss and a goodbye that wouldn’t last forever.

After finally settling in to your new room, decorating the walls with pictures and posters, your phone rang obnoxiously in your pocket. On the screen was none other than the boy you had back in Yokohama. You smiled and answered the phone, “Hey, Daz–”

“Hey~! How’s it going?” Dazai called through the speakers of the phone. It was late when you got to your new home and Dazai had insisted that you got sleep but promised to call you in the morning. To which he did go through with the promise.

“Good, how about you?” You giggled at the sound of him falling back onto his bed through the phone.

He laughed along with you, a habit that the two of you had obtained after being together. Laughing with each other over small things or nothing at all. “I’m doing good. Just helped Atsushi study for the math test in a few days.”

“Sounds interesting.” You trailed off, staring at a framed picture of you and Dazai while at a festival. An ice cream cone in your hand and Dazai leaning in to kiss your cheek. It was a picture taken by Atsushi, per Dazai’s request. “Hey, speaking of Atsushi… is there a reason he was the one to give me the love letter instead of you?” You teased.

Dazai gasped dramatically. “I asked him to because I had to speak with a teacher that morning.”

“Mhm… ok…” You toyed with him and he continued to defend himself, all while staring at the framed picture of you two that sat on your desk.

Hi there! Sorry it took me a while to get this to you, but I hope this fits your request! Have a wonderful day!

#dazai x reader #osamu dazai #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader

[theresa-of-liechtenstein]

3, 7, 19, 20 for the writer ask thing!

sure!! here you go <3

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

The incredibly cheesy ending scene to the epistolary novel I’ll never write (which I described here), which is the only scene that will be written in anything other than a text message, a handwritten note, or otherwise. i will not provide any context x but yes this is a coming-of-age story. it’s supposed to be a subversion of the usual archetypal american high school story tho

Seeing that her parents and Lucas’ were most likely gearing up to converse for the rest of Time itself, Lou decided to traipse around the field for the last time.

Excusing herself, she stepped away from the group. For a fleeting second, she watched Lucas in animated conversation with Martin. [nothing to do with cabin pressure martin, may i remark; it was just a conveniently two-syllable name] There would be time, at least in the next few months or so, for them to talk about what came next.

Tonight would not be that time.

Adjusting her mortarboard cap, she walked away, heading for the bleachers. She hadn’t spent time here for the last four years. As she climbed the metal steps and chose a seat high above the field, she realized just how far she’d come since then.

The thin yellow robe was no shield for the chill setting in. Gathering it about her as she sat, she sighed and propped her feet up on the metal seat in front of her.

Her thoughts flew over the past four years. Much had remained the same. She still saw herself in the mirror every day. Her integrity had never been compromised; for the most part, she was fundamentally the same.

But in others, she was not and never would be—and those changes would be difficult to quantify.

She sighed again.

“Thinking deep thoughts, Lou?”

Lou whipped her head up and gasped. “Otto Rhee!”

He stood next to her, silhouetted against the setting sun. He looked supremely awkward in an ill-fitting shirt and tie. Lou hadn’t seen him in about a year. To her great relief, her friend, had managed to stay just the same as before, as always. At least in appearance.

“Congratulations, Lou,” he said. “You’ve made it.” As he usually did, he sat next to her without asking. Lou made room for him on the bleacher, adjusting her voluminous outfit as she did so.

They looked out over the field in companionable silence, and somehow Lou knew that Otto—Otto who could have been a brother to her, Otto who was a brother to her in all the ways that mattered—was seeing the same things on that field. Four years of elongated snapshots, a moment stretched almost too long. UN conferences and dinners in fast-food joints, honors history class. Standing in the deserted road, where the weeds grew between the cracks, and screaming at the sky. And in every microcosm [it was literally midnight, i couldn’t be bothered to use that word properly] there they were. Always the three of them. Otto and Martin and Lou, racing down empty hallways, biking to Cassidy’s around the corner, scaring each other when they stayed too late at school, the lights gone out and everyone else gone. Significant looks, texts sent across the room.

The way all three of them—Otto to Lou to Martin and back around—when they had asked what they shared in common.

Lou looked sidelong and Otto, and Otto at her.

The spell broke, and they were sitting together again—just Lou and Otto, Otto and Lou.

They stared at each other once more before simultaneously saying, “Martin!”

And indeed, Martin was running up the bleachers towards them, his black robe billowing in the breeze. Lucas pounded up the steps, not far behind.

Lou and Otto rose to meet them, and they all smiled.

7. What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?

Detail-oriented. I have to describe everything or it just doesn’t work. “Show not tell” was always my least favorite rule (though I have always tried my best to follow it!) because I’m telling you a story, not making a movie! Oral storytelling made up a lot of my childhood, and I should hope it shows in my style.

also my dialogue feels kind of punchy sometimes, I rarely have people talk in drawn out sentences bc im the only person i know who talks that way unless it’s important they do so.

i’m not making it up, people have told me these things in some form or another (mostly in the form of getting penalized for telling rather than showing)

19. Is there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favourite verb, something you describe ‘too often’, trope you can’t get enough of?)

I have a habit of using fragments far too often. And em dashes. i also can never leave out the wind. if i don’t talk about the wind at some point, consider it a forgery /s

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

i wrote a novel about power as a little project earlier this year to distract myself >.< and it was a lot of practice at negative character development; I mean where the character ends up becoming worse at the end of the narrative instead of better, but I don’t know if there’s an actual word for that haha. it didn’t cross my mind until after I’d written it, though!

that novel was about the price of selling off your soul in order to obtain power. it was set in a political setting to push that point. the protag started off with a humble beginning. but spoiler alert, the protag gets the power she desires at the end of the novel. the clincher is that she does so at a steep cost. nobody respects her anymore; they only fear her. her best friend, sister, and younger brother distance themselves from her and she’s basically alone at the end of the novel, except for the people who have the same thirst for power as she does. the methods that she’s used to gain that power are also INCREDIBLY ethically questionable, and the only way she managed to wiggle free of those was her privilege (as my favorite character pointed out while submitting a resignation letter, which is one of the more satisfying scenes I’ve ever written)

it’s also a cautionary tale because the protag and her closest cronies check all the boxes for what people of a certain ideological bent would consider an “inclusivity win.” sure, she ends up in a really high position of power, but it’s not really a win after all because of all the heads she had to step on to get there. again, i really didn’t think hard about it until i had finished and started re-reading (and even now it sounds like the novel is much cooler than it really is: it was written over the course of three months and it shows!) and once i sent it off to some of the people who asked me to read it, it was immensely obvious how echo-chamber-y the discussion of representation and power can get. for example, one person immediately assumed i was holding the protag up as the very inclusivity win she is not (this person literally asked me, “Did you base Aileen’s leadership off of yours?” HELL to the NO! i was literally bout to SCREAM. as a person aileen is pretty decent and i could vibe with her, but as a politican aileen is morally bereft!!) but that could just be the weakness of my writing in retrospect

but i want to close with two extracts from robert bolt’s A Man for All Seasons, which I couldn’t put in the epigraph because it isn’t in the public domain and it also might be too long.

MORE: In matters of conscience, the loyal subject is more bounden to be loyal to his conscience than to any other thing.

CROMWELL: And so provide a noble motive for his frivolous self-conceit!

MORE: It is not so, Master Cromwell—very and pure necessity for respect of my own soul.

CROMWELL: Your own self, you mean!

MORE: Yes, a man’s soul is his self! ...

MORE (Looking into Rich’s face, with pain and amusement): [...] Why Richard, it profits a man nothing to give his soul for the whole world... but for Wales!

#em speaks #skatingthinandice #long post /

[khaleesiofalicante]

Shadowhunters S3E22 Thoughts

Okay let’s kill this crazy bitch covered in coal

Meliorn, you dumbass! That’s what happens when you scream during a sneak attack!!

That Lorenzo+Magnus magic move was cool!!! Also is Alec only shooting five arrows at a time now? Man has standards!!

YASSS IZZY!!!!! OH SHIT NOOOOO IZZY!!!!

Clary is serving runes like she is at a soup kitchen...

Shit they are all on fire!!!!

Yes yes get the fuck outta there!!!!!!

WE ARE COOOOOMING AFTEEEERRR YOUUUU. I will not skip the intro, Netflix! It’s the last episode, you insensitive asshole!!!

OMGGGGGGGGG SIZZY IS NOT WASTING ANY TIME HUH???

Clace is soooooo vanilla. Bless those two lil souls...

THAT HAIR TOUCHING WAS SO FUCKING SOFT IM GONNA LOOK AT IT FOREVER EVERYONE ELSE FUCK OFF

Simon went for the classic ‘It’s weird that this is not weird’. Nice...

Sure, babies!!! Do everything together :) <3 :)

Magnus’ handwriting tho!!! Dayuuum.

Man I love Alec’s I got laid last night face ;)

Alec Lightwood does not, never, ever, will pass up an opportunity to say FUCK YOU to the clave and other homophobes. I love my son!!

I Do LikE yOu iN aTuX OMG FUCKING KILL ME

Delivering handwritten wedding invites through fire messages? ICONIC!!

Did Jace just compare Clace to Malec? Jace is cracking me up in the eps!

In other news, Seelie Queen continues to be creepy...

OMG SHE JUST GOT INFINITY WAR-ED BY JONATHAN!!!

YES TO THIS PARABATAI CONTENT YES YES YES YES

CLIZZY PARABATAI????? I APPROVE!!!!

My man Underhill takes his job as Head of Security VERY seriously...

Miss the wedding? MISS THE WEDDING? I did not approve this?????

Jocelyn OMG WHAT THE FUCK 

Raziel needs to learn how to use Facetime or Facebook. Sending a girl’s dead mom as a messenger is not cool, bro!!

Okay true tho. Clary probably created to runes to get rid of dandruff...

OMG ALL THOSE CAKES ARE GORGEOUS AND GLITTERY!!!

I can watch Magnus eat cake forever tbh...

So Lorenzo gave back the loft? Why? How? When? Nevermind.

OMG MORE SELF-PORTRAITS OMG I CANNOT 

THAT BRO MOMENT BETWEEN MAGNUS + LORENZO WAS WELL DONE. YES TO SUPPORTIVE WARLOCKS YALL.

I just realised that Magnus photocopied the wedding invitations by magic. That’s a really cool trick....

OKAY MAGNUS BOUGHT MARYSE A DRESS FOR THE WEDDING I AM SOFT

I literally forgot about Robert’s existence...

LOS ANGELES BITCHES

How did Max grow so tall?????? What is your secret, child?? TELL ME!!!

Jonathan has gone full Blonde Badboy cool cool cool

SHIT ARE THE BLACKTHORNS OKAY?????

Damn it can we not have a wedding without all this drama????

Yall there was a random woman videoing Jonathan’s attack??? Wtf is wrong with people these days smh.

Yes clary please get your brother under control!!!

I do not feel bad for Jonathan for some reason. I also sense a pattern shit.

So Jonathan died? Just like that? Okaaaaaaaaay then.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH SHEEEEEEEEEEEEET ITS HAPPENING EVERYBODY CALM THE FUCK DOWN BREATHE WOMAN BREATHE

Yaaaaaas Madzie, you perfect flower girl you!!!!!

Okay I LOVE LOVE LOVE this fall/yellow theme <3 

Alec looks so handsome and I am already crying FUCK

Yasss Catarina is the best woman!!!!!

OMG all their friends and family are there this is too much yall

OH MY GOD MARYSE IS WALKING MAGNUS DOWN THE AISLE MY HEART IS SO FUCKING FULL RIGHT NOW I CANT BREATHE

OMG THOSE FUCKING VOWS KILLED ME MALEC FOREVER OMG

I AM AND WILL ALWAYS BE YOUR LOVING HUSBAND OKAY BABIES OKAY <3 <3 <3

MY CHILDREN REALLY GOT MARRIED HUH I AM LITERALLY MARYSE RN

OMG THEIR FIRST DANCE!!!! WHAT A WONDERFUL WORLD INDEED!!!!

Raphael, you beautiful goldfish!!!! I wish you all the best!!!!!! <3 <3 

Clary NO GOODBYES!!!

HALINE BITCH HALINE YES YES YES <3

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Andrew? Andrew? ANDREW? ANDREWWWWWWWWW??????

I CALLED THIS SHIP LIKE 12 YEARS AGO AND I AM STILL HERE FOR IT SUCKERZ

Omg they all know about Luke LAMO those two are apparently not subtle!

Okay Maryse is the best mom ever fight me

OMG they used that god damn ‘cell’ line from the books.. my heart :(

CLARY BABE NO YOU POOR THING TALK TO SOMEONE 

What is with these kids and leaving letters? Talk to someone goddamnit!!

ONE YEAR LATER WTF NOBODY TOLD ME ABOUT THIS????

Idris looks GOOOOOOOOD

OMG INQUISITOR ALEC LIGHTWOOD BITCH I AM HERE FOR THIS!!!

Luke x Maryse one year into the relationship and vacaying in Brazil? I need footage thank you!

OMG MAGNUS THAT LOOK WOW JUST WOW

HIGH WARLOCK OF ALICANTE MAGNUS BANE BITCH I AM HERE FOR THIS TOO!!!!

IS ANYONE ELSE SEEING HARRY’S BICEPS??? GOD DAMNNNNN

MY BEAUTIFUL BLUE PEACOCK WITH HIS BEAUTIFUL HUSBAND WOW

Yes to Young Entrepreneur Maia. 

OMG TAKIS BOOK STANS HOLD ME PLEASE

She named a burrata salad after Clary. I am very emo right now...

HEAD OF THE INSTITUTE IZZY BITCH I AM HERE FOR THIS THREE WHAT EVEN THANK YOU????????

Sizzy is all soft and sailing. My ship is safe!!!!! <3

Okay this Jimon training scene was well done. HOT DIGGITY DANG

BOOP BOOP OMG CUTIEEEEEEE

Jace, don’t let her gooooo

Clary! Hey!!! You look...different.

SHEEETTT SHE CAN SEE HIM!!!!!

OMG 01X01 PARALLELS BITCHES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay um, it’s over?????????

What am I supposed to do now??? (After I finish crying that is)

I just want the record to show that I actually enjoyed the last eps. The writers and actors did a great job <3

Thank you, shadowhunters and shadowfam.

I will miss writing stupid shit about my stupid show I stupidly love so much

That’s it I guess...

Oh and fuck Freeform bro.

#this is much #my heart is full #everything is good #shadowhunters #shadowhunters thoughts #malec #clace #sizzy #sh spoilers

[chocosweetbun]

ASOUE FIC 2.5K Words, Kitlafey

(I don’t write often, especially not fluff, so please forgive me =v=. Happy Valentine’s Day!!)

@huffleporg @madlovve and anyone else who enjoys this OT3!

(childhood friends/neighbors, there’s not enough au’s in this fandom that don’t follow canon, SLOW BURN god so slow- Theyre just friends for the first 2k words im so sorry)

Behind the school yard, a ways into the evergreen woods that stretch off into places no student ever dared to go, sits a strange sight. A patch a trees with branches low enough for the smallest of kids to climb, a clearing of light that cuts though tall soft grass and weeds, and a group of rocks that formed a throne fit for a forest king. No one ever saw it, no one ever went. It was the perfect spot for exactly 3 old friends to visit after years of absence, and yet they never did- at least, no one knew they did.

Kit Snicket was an adventurer. She fought off monsters under her bed, under her school desk, under- and over- teachers and other kids. You would think being 4’3 at age 10 would be a hindrance, but to her, and her wild red-brown hair that seemed to shift to blond in the sunlight, it was an advantage. She was popular to pick for every PE class, every recess, and every time someone needed defending on the playground. But that was only her at half power, for when she was with her two best friends, she was unstoppable. A wild-child in every sense of the word. Dewey Denouement didn’t exist. His brothers overshadowed him despite not meaning too and often the 11 year old was left in the back of the class to read whatever book he fancied that day. He wasn’t shy, but he had this quiet-politeness about him that made people think he faked his responses and conversations. Almost as though he just recited what he read somewhere. He just didn’t talk like a kid his age would, and it threw the others off. However, when he was with his two best friends his dazzling smile was present on his face no matter what. A calm boy who found where he belonged. Olaf (he dared tell no one his last name) was the kid everyone avoided. Due to unfortunate events and an odd placing birthday he was the oldest in his class at 13. Being 13 he had hit his “I hate everyone and everything” phase that all young teens go though, which meant he would often upset his younger classmates with harsh words and unpleasant actions passed off as pranks. His thin red-orange hair never seemed to be quite clean, his clothes were obviously expensive but never tidy, his fingers covered in small burns which he never would explain. The two classmates that would interact with him were the only reason he didn’t go insane being surrounded by people who refused to look his way. A strange teen who needed to let off smoke. Behind the school yard, a ways into the evergreen woods that stretched off into places no student ever dared to go, sat a strange sight. A patch a trees with branches low enough for the smallest of kids to climb, a clearing of light that cut though tall soft grass and weeds, and a group of rocks that formed a throne fit for a forest king. The group of friends found this when the schoolhouse’s kitchen caught fire and their class had to stand outside for the fire department to arrive. Olaf had snuck off, Kit behind him, and, when noticing his friends disappear into the trees, Dewey cocked a smile at the idea of a mini adventure and ran off to join them. “Holy shit- that’s a big snake-“ The eldest said, reaching out as though he was about to grab it. “What are you DOING?!” Kit pulled Olaf back with a surprising amount of strength. “It could kill you!” “Oh no it wouldn’t, I would kill it first before it even had the chance!” “Yeah right! Tell ‘em he would D I E Dewey!” “Ah-“ the middle child said, stuffing his book that he brought out to read in his backpack as the group walked further into the woods. ”That snake isn’t venomous so- He would probably be okay if it bit him-” “Dewey that didn’t help!” “Hey kit-kat mind letting go of me?” With that, Kit huffed as she pushed Olaf forward. “Fine but don’t go grabbing anything that Dewey doesn’t know the name of!” The child took hold of Dewey’s hand as she spoke- the innocent gesture was returned. “Fine fine- I won’t do anything pretty boy wouldn’t do.” And he continued the walk ahead. It wasn’t long before they found those trees, that clearing, and those rocks. They spent some time there playing- the faint sirens of firetrucks blaring in the distance telling them they were not missed- and as I’m sure you could imagine the three each found the best spot to be. Kit climbing the trees, Dewey lying in the grass, and Olaf perched on the rocks. They laughed, talked, threw leaves and grass, picked flowers (Dewey and Kit did- Olaf just watched) and overall had a good 30 minutes of time together before they heard the large red trucks drive away. “We should go back.” Dewey said. “Yeah, you’re right.” Kit replied, hopping down from a branch. Olaf came down from his throne and stood over the two, his face showing that he was deep in thought. “Are you guys doing anything after school tomorrow?” He said. ________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________ The next day, and the day after that, and the day after that, the group kept visiting the hidden place in the trees. August turned to September, then October, then November. When it got too cold to go walking the trio would visit Olaf’s empty house and attempt to build forts and bake holiday cookies. But on New Year’s Eve the three agreed to hop out of their bedroom windows, run though the snow with flashlights in their small hands, and meet in the forest where they would all climb up the biggest tree and watch the fireworks from the very top. They neglected to think about the ice on the branches, and after the 5th time Kit slipped and fell- they gave up. “I’m telling you I CAN DO IT-“ Kit struggled in the grasp of Olaf’s arms, who was desperately trying to keep her from breaking her own neck. “You’ll break your neck!” Dewey said, standing in front of the tree with his arms spread- as if that would block the young girl from wanting to climb. “When has Dew ever been wrong, huh? Gah- stop it!” “AHH-!” Kit shouted as Olaf tackled her to the ground. You may be thinking ‘That boy is double her size! Surely he hurt her-‘ and you would be completely wrong. Olaf was a thin, weak child, and Kit was more durable then one might think. He pinned her down in the snow, sitting with his legs across her stomach, as though she were a pillow under his knees. “Get off of me! Uuuugh!!!” And with that last sigh, she was defeated. Olaf then plopped back, legs still over Kit, to lie in the cold snow. Dewey soon joined them, using Olaf’s stomach as a headrest. As the sound of fireworks began on the horizon, the three were all thinking the very same thing. “I really could have got up that tree-“ “We can die if we stay in the snow-” “I’m happy you guys are here with me-“ Well, not exactly the same thing. “I’m happy too! I really love you guys!” Kit said, using her arms to make a torso-only snow angel. The snow was not nearly deep enough though, so her jacket got stained with mud. “I love you both too!” Dewey said, using a foot to kick around some dead twigs in the ground. “Like a couple of kids like you could know what love is.” Olaf scoffed, his teen drama act rearing its head. “I’m hardly a kid anymore! I’m 11 now!” “No, Kit, you’re still a kid.” “Well Dewey is almost 13 like you!” When the sound of the fireworks ended, the three prepared to part ways. Dewey brushed off the mud on Kit’s coat with his gloves and did his best to fix her hair while she bickered more with Olaf on how old someone must be to not be a ‘kid’ anymore. Kit says 11, Olaf says 13, and Dewey thinks to himself that whenever that age may be, they all would remain childish like this forever. ________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________ February 14th rushed though fast, and after school the three once again met up behind the schoolyard. Dewey brought handwritten letters detailing how important the other two were to him, Kit gave them handmade pottery that she had made in art class, and Olaf said “Happy Valentine’s Day” while giving them necklaces crudely made, the pendants being a small crow feather on each. He also wore one and said he had just happened to make extras. This evening was not spent separate, instead all three of them sat in the thawing grass, side by side by side. They were just finishing up a conversation on the best kind of chocolate when Dewey (who has been silently listening) asked a question. “What is it like to have a crush on someone?” “It means you want to get married, right?” Kit said, her childish innocence causing Olaf to snicker. “Nah, It means you want to make out with them.” Olaf leaned back on his hands, obviously trying to appear cool. “Ew-“ Kit scrunched up her nose “That’s gross, don’t people only do that on T.V.?” “No I don’t think so.” Dewey pulled his knees to his chest. “That’s just like…kissing and stuff- right?” “Yeah sure, basically.” “Have- you kissed anyone before Olaf?” Dewey asked with his usual soft tone, but a bit of nervousness peaked though his posture. On the other side of the taller boy, Kit’s eyes grew wide with curiosity. “Oh he probably has! Right? Was it gross?” Kit leaned in close to Olaf, pushing said boy closer to Dewey. The eldest stayed silent, opting to ignore his friend’s questions by standing straight up, causing Kit to crash into Dewey’s legs. “wal ha wahs meen” Which roughly translates too “Well that was mean” when said by a girl who is face first in a pair of knees. Olaf walked away as the other two were left sitting. “Was I too blunt…?” Dewey helped Kit lean back off his legs. “I think he’s just in one of his moods.” Rubbing her nose, she stood, reaching her hand out to help Dewey stand. He took hold without a second thought, and soon the both of them were caught up with Olaf. The three of them went back to talking as though nothing had ever even happened. The next day, in class, Olaf pulled Dewey aside. “Is it Kit?” The teen said. “Maybe, I’m not sure.” The short boy paused and tried for a moment to read Olaf’s expression. “Would you be upset if it was?” “Yes.” ________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________

When Dewey turned 13, Olaf 14, they shared a moment behind one of the rocks during a game of ‘Hide from Kit so she doesn’t make you stick fight with her’. “Why did you-“ “Because I wanted too.” In the moment neither was really sure who said what, or who kissed who. Kit found them, and all three were forced to avoid getting beat with a stick-sword for nearly an hour. ________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________ When Kit turned 12 she told Olaf that she was in love with him. He asked her why she thought so when she was obviously closer to Dewey. She couldn’t answer- and argued that she was equally close with them both. “So why DO you think you love me and not him then?” He had asked. She begun to cry in frustration and left with a “Whatever- Forget it. I guess I don’t know my own feelings.” Olaf thought to himself that she was beginning her ‘I hate everyone and everything’ phase a little sooner than he expected. ________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________ The kids were growing up, Dewey thought to himself, and he saw it in the way Kit hugged his arm whenever she was avoiding whatever harsh words Olaf said. He also saw it in how Olaf refused to let Dewey lean against him anymore. But as the three of them quietly walked to their normal place- he realized that they weren’t growing UP, but APART. The thought made him want to cry. That day Olaf told them that his parent’s were sending him to a boarding school, and that he was leaving right away. Dewey started crying, realizing that there was no way to salvage the relationship that was breaking- He started crying more when Kit let go of his arm, marched over to Olaf, and hugged him for the first time in a month of silence, arms linked around his neck. Dewey watched as Olaf hugged her in return, the image of her small form surrounded by his tall lanky one was out of place in the summer sky. “You can’t go-“ Dewey heard Kit say as he slowly walked over to the pair. “I can’t stay, I’ve tried-“ Dewey reached the couple and hesitated for a moment- watching the two of them embrace in their last ever meeting. He felt like he was intruding- but his urge to say goodbye to Olaf and comfort Kit was too overwhelming. He was not alone in this, for Kit and Olaf both pulled him into their hug before he had a chance to try and worm his way in himself. “I- I really love you guys-“ Kit’s words were laced with sorrow and the sound of cicadas.

“I love you both two-“ Dewey replied, dropping his book to the hard ground as he buried his face into Olaf’s chest and Kit’s hair. “I- I’m going to miss you.” Olaf said to them both. Neither of them brought up how that was the first nice thing Olaf had ever said to either of them in the years of knowing each other, unless you count the hundreds of tears that puddled up on the ground.

________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________ A decade later and some change later, a young woman with red-brown hair stepped into the sunny spot on the soft grass and weeds, the feather necklace being blown by the wind. A young man with a dazzling smile was holding her hand, adorned with a ring, and he, too, modeled a similar necklace. However it was tied around his wrist for he had grown out of it. They wave to a figure appearing from behind the too-small to climb trees, the feathered neck-piece lengthened to fit his adult form. No one ever saw them, no one ever will. It was the perfect spot for exactly 3 old friends to visit after years of absence and talk about never forgotten feelings, muddy coats, growing families, and how to spend the rest of Valentine’s day. They didn’t go though with their plans, and instead rested together in the thawing grass until dusk.

#i didnt edit this so please excuse mistakes #i had to cut out a LOT of the end because i couldnt write it the way i wanted it too #asoue #asoue fanfic #ot3 #kitlafey #kit x olaf x dewey #kit snicket #count olaf #dewey denouement

[nailriddenbat]

Road Trip | Series - More Like a Beauty Queen (1)

Requested by: Anonymous ; Yo! How about Steve and reader going a a road trip together for spring break and being cute and coupley?

Summary: It’s the summer of 1987. Another year of college is over for Steve Harrington and he is ready to hit the road for his drive back to Hawkins, but things change when he receives unexpected company.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader (SLOWBURN)

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: surprise ~ so this story is going to be slightly different from the request, but i hope do it justice. i’m very excited to share this with you and i really hope you all enjoy it. xoxo - k

Tags (PLEASE message me if you want to be added to the permanent tag list for any fic, especially if you already asked and I forgot!): @thegirlwhoisintoomanyfandoms @la-fille-en-aiguilles @jj-writes-shit @thebitterbookeater @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aioli @richletozler @royalwolfhard @just-smile-darling @w-ingardiumleviosa @buckysmaingir l @magic-and-timetravel  @jupiter-leo @ttrraasshh @somekryptonitewriting @dudee-what @tmalchow @hedabucky @wallacetdog @twelvedacrewoods @mikeygc3000 @stressedoutkylo  @istanuriss @anevenstrangerblog @scintillllating @dylanowhyyien  @daniimiss @xguardiangel  @me-a-hopeless-romantic @negroneon @sweetheartmendes @goimaginethiss  @madhatterweasley @cupcaitlyn96 @onlyalittleteenwolfobsessed @poets-are-sinners @harringtonhuddle @kingkenzieo @ssweet-empowerment @blackhawklove @harringtonwife @lola-winston-harrington @im-disgustingly-vain @alwaysmebeforeyou  @kinghairington @lilo-1398 @xanaphorax @ash-the-reader @heckin-harrington 

Parts:

More Like a Beauty Queen (1)

Don’t Masquerade (2)

Let’s Rock (3)

He Seemed Brokenhearted (4)

He Was With Me (5) ( Coming Soon)

Steve took a deep breath of that fresh California air, leaning his head back. The summer breeze hit him and tossed his hair back lightly and he slipped his hands into the pockets of his denim jeans. His dorm building stood tall behind him as its occupants fled for the summer break. They would be back in a few short months and so would he, and he would be ready to tackle his fourth and final year of college.

He pulled one hand out of his pocket and walked over to the payphones that were pressed against the exterior of the building. He pulled out the appropriate amount of change and listened as they hit the bottom before he reached for the phone and dialed the number. 

As he held the phone against his ear, Steve listened to the operator’s voice before he could hear the tone of a ringing phone. Seconds ticked by but soon he was grinning as a voice rang in his ear, “Steve! Did you hit the road yet?”

“Obviously not if I’m calling you right now, dipshit,” Steve chuckled.

Dustin Henderson had become the brother his parents could never be bothered to give him. He fit the description well. He was annoying, overbearing, and sure as hell never listened to a single thing that he was told. Dustin was also caring and compassionate and had a heart of gold, so he balanced himself out.  

“When the hell are you leaving? You have to get back here as soon as possible so we can start the next campaign!” Dustin shouted.

“How many times have I told you? I’m never going to understand that damn game,” he sighed into the phone but grinned the entire time.

“Never say never, Steve. Do you know how long it’ll take you to get back?” Dustin continued asking questions but Steve was unable to provide any answers.

“Dustin, relax for two seconds,” Steve had to cut him off abruptly. “I’m going to run out of time on this call but I’m going to fill the car up and I’ll be on the road after that.”

“Do you promise to call and check in at each stop so I know you weren’t kidnapped by some sort of psycho in the desert or some sort of truck driver? I’ve seen the movies, Steve. I know what happens,” Dustin continued to speak.

“Nothing is going to happen. I’ll call you when I can. Try to hold off on any trouble until I get there so I can keep an eye out on you losers,” Steve said his final goodbye before hanging up the phone, knowing that if he didn’t Dustin would just continue to speak.

With that being done, he was free to walk through the parking lot to where his car was parked. He swung the key loop around his finger before sitting down in the driver's seat. With the car started and the windows rolled down, Steve said farewell to the college campus as he made his way out onto the road.

Steve was comfortable with leaving the music off and listening to the sounds of California. He could hear snippets of conversations from people who were jogging by. He could hear clips of songs or the voices of local radio hosts coming from the cars around him. There were dogs barking and children laughing, and the breeze blew through the open windows. 

He would never admit it but there was something about California that had drawn him in from the second he stepped foot onto campus. He could remember the day that he made his college decision. 

Steve had been standing in an empty house. His parents were gone once again and the envelope bearing his name glared at him from its spot on the dining room table.  He could open it and face the harsh reality that he would be stuck in Hawkins forever. Or he could open it and sigh with relief that he would be getting a ticket out of there. When he decided to rip that envelope open, he nearly ripped the letter in half and dropped it on the floor. It fell facing upwards and from his standing position, Steve was able to read the life-changing words: “Dear Mr. Harrington, we are pleased to offer you our congratulations on being accepted...”

It wasn’t a decision that he made easily, but it was the best one for him. And so here he was, three years into his college career as he studied criminal justice. Steve had plans to come home and join forces with Hopper, but until then he would enjoy his time away from the crazy Hawkins, Indiana as best as he could.

Steve pulled into the gas station and parked next to the pump. As soon as he filled his tank up on gas and stopped for some snacks, he would be able to begin his peaceful road trip back home.

With his trusty wayfarers hanging on the tip of his nose, he perused the labels of chips and candy. Occasionally he would hold something up to look at it closely and it would either end up in his basket or back on the shelf. 

“How could you pass up a bag of Doritos? That’s heaven in a bag.”

Steve looked up and over to his right but turned to his left. You were leaning up against the display with your arms crossed over your chest and a red flannel tied around your waist. Your denim shorts were cut off and the edges were frayed. There was something about you that seemed so familiar. Was it the brightness of your eyes? Or was it the dimples that Steve could make out as you stared at him with a grin? Perhaps it was your sweet voice?

“It’s creepy to just stare at someone in response to a question,” you snickered.

“Sorry,” Steve cleared his throat and pulled his sunglasses off of his nose as they began to fall.

“You don’t have to ask,” you rolled your eyes with a heavy sigh. “Yes, we know each other. We go to the same school and we’ve shared a few classes. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you lingering around the quad.”

“I don’t...” Steve shook his head slowly. How the hell could he not remember you, he thought to himself?

“Ouch. I’m a little offended, Harrington. I can remember our entire first encounter and you can’t even remember my name!” you pushed yourself off of the display and wandered over to Steve. You reached forward and picked up the bag of Doritos that he had just put back and ripped open the bag.

“You can’t do that,” Steve gasped.

You shrugged and bit into the first chip with a grin, then held the bag out to him. 

“No, I don’t want any of those,” he looked around nervously, expecting an employee to storm over and kick them out.

You bit into the second chip and hummed as you chewed. “The longer you take to figure out who I am, the more chips I eat. Tick, tock, Steve,” you shrugged.

“I don’t remember who you are, okay?” he started to laugh nervously and ran his hand through his hair. “Stop eating the chips and just tell me.”

“Fine,” you sighed dramatically and ran your cheese covered fingers over your shorts. “We took that psych course in the fall semester. I was the girl who had all the questions about serial killers and kept throwing the professor off.”

Steve dropped his head forward. Yes, he thought. He remembered exactly who you were. The professor had been subjected to handing out copies of his handwritten notes because he was never able to get through a full lecture without you turning the conversation around. It had been amusing, but also very trying on his patience. “Y/N,” he said your name and you clapped your hands excitedly.

“Give him a round of applause for remembering me!” you began to shout.

“Okay, okay,” he waved his hand to get you to lower your voice.

“So now that you finally remembered who I am, you can tell me what you’re doing at this gas station and why you’re passing up valuable snacks,” you continued to eat the Doritos as you looked at him.

“Uh, road trip. Stocking up,” he explained briefly as he waved the basket around a bit. 

“Indiana, right?” you asked him.

“How did you...”

“I remembered you mentioning that in your class introduction. I’m from there too! Don’t exactly have a ride, though, so I’ll be hitchhiking my way back,” you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly.

“Hitchhiking?” Steve asked you. “You don’t have a car? Or a bus ticket? Couldn’t get home by plane?”

“Yes, no, no, and no,” you answered. You finished the bag of chips and crumbled it up, hiding it back on the shelves. You held your finger up to your lips and winked at him.

“That’s insane. It’ll take you ages to get back there,” he stuttered over his words.

“Do you have any other ideas, Harrington?” you turned to him and tightened the flannel around your waist. You lifted one leg so you could adjust the shoelaces of your shoes.

“Isn’t there anyone you know who could give you a ride?” he continued to ask questions. The thought of hitchhiking all the way to Indiana was absolute madness.

You walked by him and your arm brushed against his. You turned to look at him and grinned, “The only one I know who is heading to Indiana is you, Steve. You offering me a ride?”

Steve’s eyes went wide as he looked over at you. He mumbled incoherently and you grinned even more.

“I’ll go put my bags in your car, then! The BMW, right? Brownish, sort of reddish color? Indiana plates? You’re the best, Harrington!” you winked over at him and went to leave but turned back suddenly. “Might as well put Doritos in that basket.”

Before Steve could form a firm argument, you were skipping out of the store and over to where you had left your bags. As if he were under some sort of control, he scooped a few bags of Doritos into the basket before he rushed over to the counter to pay. He scrambled to grab the bags from the attendant and nearly tripped over his own two feet as you popped open his trunk and began to squeeze one of your bags in with his.

“Hey, hey! What the hell are you doing?” Steve asked you.

“Packing my bags up, what does it look like I’m doing?” you grunted as you squeezed the second bag into the trunk before closing it, moving to push the rest back into the back seat.

“I never said you could come along. I barely know you,” he started to ramble as he watched you pack up the car, but he couldn’t make any moves.

“You’ll get to know me on the trip, then!” you shouted out. You pulled back and closed the door, brushing your hands together. “I promise I’m not crazy. And think of it this way! I’ll be able to help with the driving and we can probably get back to Indiana ten times faster.”

Steve opened his mouth again, ready to present more arguing points but you reached forward and tugged the shopping bag out of his hand. “If you really don’t want me on this trip, say it. But I see Doritos in this bag which tells me that you’re okay with this.”

The two of you stared each other down as you stood next to the gas pump. Steve refused to let go of the bag so it dangled in between the two of you. After a minute or so, his hand dropped and he sighed, “You have to help with the driving and pitch in for gas and food. And do not open any other sort of snack without paying for it first.”

“You got it,” you winked and pulled the bag against your chest before sitting down in the passenger seat. 

Steve ran his hands over his face and whispered to himself, “What the fuck have I gotten myself into?”

Once he sat in the car and started it up, you reached forward to turn the radio on.

“I like the silence,” Steve groaned a bit.

“Fuck that, it’s the beginning of our road trip! We need good music!” you flipped through the channels but stopped when you heard the opening of one of your all-time favorite songs. “It’s Billie Jean! I love Michael Jackson!”

Steve tried to ignore you as he pulled out onto the road. You hummed along to the song as you reached into his glove compartment and pulled out the roadmap just in case it was needed. The song continued and you glanced over at Steve, unimpressed with his stoic impression. In that moment, you made it your goal to break that boy and get him to pull whatever stick had been stuck up his ass. 

“And mother always told me, be careful who you love,” you sang softly, pulling your eyes away from his.

He tried to hold in a sigh. You sang. Of course, you sang. 

“And be careful what you do, cause the lie becomes the truth...” you continued, raising your voice a little higher.

Steve gripped the steering wheel tighter and bit down on his tongue when he noticed you reach out to turn the music up even more just as the chorus began to play. He nearly pulled the car over sharply as you leaned over the center console to sing along loudly, “Billie Jean is not my lover, she’s just the girl who claims that I am the one but the kid is not my son!” You pulled yourself back dramatically, clutching your hands to your chest.

“Are you going to be like this the entire trip?” Steve shouted over the music.

You continued to sing but looked over at him, winking again. He caught your glance and suddenly felt his throat tighten. Steve looked away quickly, feeling as if there were something enchanting about your stare. As you went on with your singing performance in the passenger seat and as Steve focused on getting them onto the main road, he wondered if he had just made the best or the worst mistake of his life.

#stranger things #stranger things 2 #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington reader #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington you #steve harrington/you #joe keery #joe keery x reader #joe keery reader #joe keery/reader #joe keery x you #joe keery you #joe keery/you #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #fic #imagine #stranger things angst #stranger things fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff